#not one but TWO memory altering spells probably have something to do with it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grippingbeskar · 2 years

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First off CONGRATS ON YOUR MILESTONE!!!!! You deserve it!!!!!!

Secondly I literally want you to write every single prompt and trying to narrow it down was so so difficult but! I hereby request:

💃 6 or 13, for javi you can choose!

🥂 1 I am BEGGING (also for javi because I am a whore!)

— god. i fucking love javi so much. thank you for requesting this wow. and thank you for ur kind words 🖤 hope you enjoy!! also i don’t speak spanish (as much as i have tried) so please feel free to correct my spelling if i fuck up. i tried to figure out where the accents go but i am an idiot. pls forgive me.

— prompts:

💃 13. there it is. there’s that smile

🥂 1. what? does that feel good?

-warnings: explicit content 18+ (semi public, hand stuff oop.) swearing, mention of death, canon typical violence.

[grippingbeskar’s 2k night out celebration!]

“Rough day, princesa?” Javi comes up behind you, his voice snapping you back to reality. You were deep into your fourth drink of the night, trying to wash away the memories of the past twenty four hours.

“You know it was, Javier.” He leans one arm on the bar, facing you, and signals to the bartender for two more drinks.

“Javier? Am I in trouble?” Rolling your eyes, you finish off the rest of your whiskey as a new glass arrives in front of you.

“I’m not really in the mood.” You go to get up, but his hand catches your arm gently. You sigh and slide back into the bar stool, depressed with how easily you just gave up. Only a testament to how weak this place has made you. If today was any indication, a slight breeze would of knocked you on your ass.

“I was kidding. Tell me about it.” His voice was as intoxicating and warm as your whiskey, and you gulped the next mouthful down to try and drown any little remains of feeling that threatened to spill over.

It had never really happened: you and Javi. It was too close quarters in Bogotá, and you couldn’t risk your position. The last thing you needed was people saying you slept your way to the top around here. Being a woman was bad enough.

One drunken kiss was all it took, though, to have your life alter its gravitational pull. He’d leaned over the bar, one he jumped after everyone else had gone home, swearing he could make the best ‘Sex on the Beach’ you’d ever had, and just kissed you. Ever since then, you hadn’t taken your eyes off him. You couldn’t do anything about it, of course, and he probably didn’t want to.

He fucked anything with a pulse, so you put all the flirty comments and longing stares to the back of your mind as best you could. If Javi was anything, though, he was impossible to ignore. Especially if there was something he wanted.

“Come on. Tell me about your day.” He looks at you over his glass as he leans closer. A mixture of cigarettes, whiskey and his aftershave makes your head feel fuzzy, and you want to dive head first into it. Have him take over all your senses, like he did with that one, stupid, life altering kiss.

“You’re mocking me.” You try your best to keep your face blank when he laughs, smiling down at you. Shit— he was so close.

“Never, princesa. God knows I’ve had my fair share of bad days out here. This place will suck you dry if you let it.” There’s a tone in his voice, one of sincerity that you so often don’t get to hear. Your face gets warmer, and you take another sip from your glass.

“Everything just— went to shit, basically. No one followed the plans, a bomb went off in the east building and scattered everyone, La Quica got out without so much as a scratch, and all we came home with was a brick of second-grade coke.” You take a deep breath. You were over it. Over being second guessed, over being seen as a liability. You should be a priority— today just proved it. If everyone had just listened to you…

“Let me guess Your plan would have avoided the east building all together?” You nod, shoulders slumped. “And La Quica was on the top floor, so you could of cut him off if you’d had the numbers.”

“I haven’t even written the report. How’d you know?” He shrugs, finishing off his glass.

“It’s what I would have done.” You nearly slam the glass down. “What?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. East side of that entire suburb is a shit hole. The back door practically opens into Escobars front yard. I would of steered clear of it entirely.”

“Exactly! There was too many variables, and you could get the entire squad in undetected—“

“If you went around back, because they don’t have stairs. You’d have to scale the building.”

“God, where were you this morning?!” You laugh, smiling up at him now that he’s stood up straight. You knew you were right— the best agent in the DEA just confirmed it, even if your superiors didn’t listen. That didn’t matter, for some reason Javi’s validation was more than enough.

You couldn’t wipe the smug smile off your face, even when Javi’s finger hooked under you chin, tilting your head up even more.

“There it is. There’s that smile.” You can’t look away, and there’s a moment where everything else disappears. Everyone in the bar goes quiet, the lights dim, it’s like some kind of dream overtakes you and all you can do it let it happen. “I thought I’d lost you for a second there.”

“I’m not that easy, Javi.”

“I know.” He shakes his head, and lets his hand drop away. The way he says it makes you think he’s not just talking about losing your smile. “You’re too good to be out here.”

“I’m good, and it’s why I’m here. If my superiors don’t want to admit it, I’ll just have to wait them out.” Javi laughs next to you, looking at you out the side of his eye as he leans both forearms on the bar. “If today was just the start, they’ll get their heads blown off before I ever need to get promoted.”

“This country has made you so brutal. Is that what you think of me when you stare at me across your office?” You exhale quickly, and you speak before your inebriated brain can stop you.

“You’re too pretty to lose your head, Javi.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you wish you could swallow them back up.

He was the flirt. He was the one always coming on to you. You were supposed to deflect, and now you had practically kicked the door down. You tried to blame it on the drink, but two years in this country has given you a much stronger stomach— at least, strong enough to handle a few half glasses of whiskey without losing your mind.

Javi hasn’t replied, but he has moved. Instead of leaning forward on the bar, he turns back to you. Sliding a little closer, his hand trails lightly, fingers grazing your arm. You can’t help but shiver in your seat, no matter how hot the alcohol is making you feel.

“What’d you just say?” Your eyes squeeze shut and shake your head, but he hums, his hand once again finding a place under your chin. You have no where to look but his face. His eyes, dark and blown out, sucking you in. “Don’t worry. I think you’re very pretty too.”

“I’m sorry Jav, I… Clearly, I’m drunker than I thought.” You fake a laugh, trying to play it off.

“I’ve seen you drink twice as much and win a handstand competition with three of our strongest agents.” You want to kick yourself for that stupid contest. All it’s done is bite you in the ass, even if it was one of your proudest achievements. “You’re not drunk.”

“No, I’m not.” He turns the seat of your bar stool toward him, and slips in between your slightly parted legs. “Javi.”

“Don’t ‘Javi’ me, princesa. We both know you wouldn’t let me get this close if you didn’t want this just as badly as I do.” You swallow hard, and he smiles. He’s not mocking you like he usually does. He’s right, too. You’ve taken down men for doing less.

No— this… you wanted this. Even with every rational bone in your body screaming at you to push him off, to get out of the bar and go home. Sleep these feelings off, handle them with your own hand like you usually do. But he was so close, and he was… fuck. He was really hard. You could feel it pressing against your thigh, and your breath shuddered when he stepped even closer.

“You feel what you do to me? Huh?” He was still holding your face, making you look at him, admit it to him after months of denying it yourself. You nod, just once. “If you want me to go, you need to tell me now. I won’t be able to stop myself like last time.”

Last time. Shit… that kiss. He was getting closer, and your resolve was slipping every inch he closed off.

“But what about… what about everyone else.”

“Fuck everyone else. There’s only you and me here.” It certainly felt like it, but you knew that wasn’t the reality.

“P-people already think I don’t deserve this position. I can’t…” One of his large hands fanned out, sliding down your spine to your lower back and pulling you closer to him. A small hint of a moan slips past your lips.

“I can keep quiet, cariño.” Your eyes flutter closed as he lowers his mouth to your ear, the faintest kiss pressed under your jaw. “Question is, how quiet can I keep you?”

The hand on your back snakes around, and slides up your bare thigh, disappearing under your skirt. He doesn’t waste any time, shuffling you around so that no one in the rest of the bar could see you, and then kisses you hard. At the same time, two fingers circle your clit, and even through the thin fabric of your underwear, it feels good. Too good for you to be in public— oh—

“Fuck, Javi.” He smiles as you moan his name into his mouth, and you can feel him get a little faster. You have to dig your fingers into his hair to stay grounded.

“What? Does that feel good?” His voice flows smooth like honey over your shoulder, and all the tension in your body redirects to the pleasure erupting low in your stomach. You are grateful that you always pick the smallest corner of the bar to sit in, so no one can bare witness to how you roll your hips into every movement Javi makes with his hands.

“Fucking perfect. God— I think…”

“It’s alright, let go for me. I’ll take you home and fuck you properly if you cum for me right now.” His head leans back so he can watch you, and everything goes still for just one moment. Everything except his hand, that never stops— christ, you hope he never, ever stops…

You muffle the loud moan of your release into his shoulder, and you can faintly hear Javi telling you how sweet you sound, a few words you don’t recognise slipping into your blissed out brain. It doesn’t matter what he’s saying because he sounds so good doing it that it’s all the encouragement you need to ride out your high. The dullness the whiskey hung on your body shatters as pleasure racks through you, and when it begins to subside, your legs were shaking on the chair when Javi pulled you back to him.

“Fuck, cariño. Such a good girl for me.” Fingers still twisted in his hair, you pull him back to your mouth, kissing him slowly. When you pull away, you feel that same dream like haze wash over you, and you start to think maybe it wasn’t the kiss… maybe it was just him that made you feel like that.

“Javi…”

“Let me take you home. Stay with me.” His eyebrows were furrowed in something like worry. Worry you would do what you did last time. Run, leave him here alone again. You kissed the crease in his forehead, and it disappeared.

Your legs were still shaking as you stood, and Javi held you by the waist as he walked you outside and down the road to his place. To anyone else, you would of looked like two drunks stumbling home after a long night, and it felt a little like that too.

Only you weren’t drunk— this was something you knew you couldn’t blame on alcohol. The stutter in your heart every time he looked up at you from his desk, the way you felt when he kissed you… it couldn’t really be explained by anything else, but for now you were content to let him guide you home, and stay in this bubble for as long as you could.

#grippingbeskarsnightout #javi peña x reader #javier peña x you #javi pena x you #javi pena x reader #javi pena x y/n #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña x fem!reader #javi pena smut

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dungeonmalcontent · 1 year

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Uncommon spell uses: Modify Memory

While this is primarily about the spell in 5e d&d, most of these can be done with any similar effect.

1) The Hangover: this is fairly complicated but it's a great way to get someone on your side. Step one is to, long before you even approach your target to cast the spell, select a stage. This could be a room at a luxury hotel, an unused warehouse, or on a ship--the only real restriction is that it must be within 1 minute of easy travel from where you will be enchanting your target and be somewhere where you probably won't be interrupted. Step two is to set the stage, maybe plant a dead body there (real or fake), break some things to make it look like something bad happened, leave evidence that the enchanter and the target were tied up but managed to break free. And step three is to, once everything else is in position, approach the target.

Regardless of the target's opinion towards you (the enchanter) they must be a relatively law abiding citizen in order for this to work. Anyone above the law or beyond the reach of public perception probably won't work.

You approach your target and covertly cast the spell on them. You only have a 10 minute window of memory you can modify and it must have happened during that day (at base level), so there is some wiggle room if the spell doesn't work the first time. But you begin the memory as them accepting, begrudgingly, a drink with you. You begin to tell them about a plot against their life, and then their memory becomes fuzzy and grows blank. They vaguely recall both of you passing out. Their memory then comes too as they wake up an indeterminate amount of time later to see you standing over whatever destruction you have prepared, and that is where you drop the spell.

The trick is that while you are casting the spell, you lead the dazed target to the actual scene you've prepared. Bonus points if you can change their clothes during this time. So while their mind fills in the gap of that remembered unconsciousness as perhaps being any amount of time, they are lead to believe that they were drugged and abducted alongside the enchanter and brought to a discrete location to be interrogated or transported. And that is when you broke both of them free and saved their lives... For now. After a successful memory alteration, you can potentially rope the target into whatever short term goal you have lined up, like maybe killing a prominent figure or infiltrating a secure location.

Works great on politicians, mages (non-enchantment specialists), and knights or high ranking military folk.

2) Scarred for life: this is somewhat evil, but works great as a GM. It's also significantly easier to do than the previous use.

You place a character in an incredibly stressful and traumatic situation. You cast the spell on them, forcing them to have perfect recall of what happens over the next minute. And then you break them. Kill a loved one, burn a city, or maybe in an alternative setting you do something impressive like save their life.

Regardless, because you force the memory to have perfect recall, you can force the character to live through it again and again whenever you want just by mentioning part of it.

Bonus points if you can get them to do something awful through the use of dominate person while forcing them to have perfect recall of the action.

3) Neurolyzer

Very men in black. And pretty simple. If you want to manipulate people, you don't necessarily have to plant some new ideas in their head. Just erase the last 10 minutes of their existence. Makes for great getaways and cover ups. I can even work as a more long term version of gift of gab. And while their minds can try to fill in the blanks, this option in particular works best if you want the target dazed and confused.

#d&d #dnd #dungeons and dragons #spell #modify memory #fun uses for spells #ttrpg #magic

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peterjakes · 1 year

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Theon x Sansa - 'I thought I saw the devil this morning'

Theon Greyjoy is not Theon Greyjoy, but Reek. Reek. Reek. He will always be Reek. He is contented with that. That is until Sansa Stark arrives back in Winterfell. She is here and she will find him. She won't find Reek, but Theon.

set during s5 when Sansa and theon meet at winterfell

split pov bc I'm quite enjoying that way of writing

thought it would be interesting to look at some of the moments we see in the show when Sansa and theon meet again

thanks as ever for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/45895981

Theon had seen her before she had seen him. He had gotten use to hiding in the shadows, cowering down to his master, being the obedient dog that he would always be. Something that his master wouldn’t be too please about was how well Theon had finessed his overhearing skills. He knew Sansa was coming to Winterfell before he saw her. Theon wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that. How should he feel? Guilty, perhaps? Theon had lost track of time; he wasn’t sure how long he had been Reek, how long he had been under his master’s spell, how much time has passed since then.

Theon hadn’t seen a Stark since he took Winterfell, since he lost Bran and Rickon, and killed those two farm boys in their place. Robb and Lady Stark had been killed. Arya was missing. Ned Stark was still dead. Jon was at the Wall. Bran and Rickon were probably dead. Sansa was the only one left. Theon’s mind wandered to memories of Sansa, memories of Winterfell, of their childhood. So many of those had been blocked out, washed away, or altered. Who was this Theon Greyjoy who would spend time following Robb Stark around? Flirting with girls. Teasing Jon. Who was this Theon who had once wondered if Lord Stark would marry him to Sansa? He would have been part of them all, a real Stark. What a stupid thing to think. Theon Greyjoy thought this once.

But this Theon didn’t exist. It was Reek. Reek, Reek. Reek. But Reek didn’t know Sansa. Reek didn’t have something shared, something connected with Sansa. So why was he feeling this way? Why was he scared of her finding him? Why did he secretly want her to find him? It was Theon who knew Sansa. Theon who felt so much regret and guilt about what he had done to her family. Theon had known Sansa was coming. He knew he would have to face her eventually. Face what he had done to her family.

It was in the courtyard. Where Theon Greyjoy would practice his archery, where he would spar with Robb and Jon, where he would chase servant girls for a kiss. Where Theon Greyjoy had beheaded Ser Rodrick, where he had displayed the tiny burnt bodies for all to see, where Theon Greyjoy was no longer himself. Sansa looked different. Her usual kissed-by-fire auburn hair had been replaced with something dark. She was no longer a young girl; she had grown up. She had walked by with her face full of confusion. Sansa hadn’t noticed him; she hadn’t even looked in his direction. A sense of relief waved through Theon, but he had to know it wouldn’t last. It would happen eventually and nothing Theon could do would prepare him for that. For once, he would have to face it. But that wasn’t what he did. That wasn’t Reek. Not without his master’s say so. Reek would hide, that is what Reek would do. Hide, hide away until it all stopped. Reek, reek it rhymes with meak. Weak. Meak. Meak Reek. Weak Reek. Not Theon. But it wasn’t Reek who knew Sansa, but Theon. Theon. Theon Greyjoy. Theon.

And so, he did. He hid, he waited. He took his place where he belonged, in the kennels. It wasn’t until later that he was disturbed. Theon could sense something was coming, someone. The dogs had started to howl, started to growl, they were riled up. They were hungry. Theon knew only too well what happened when these starving beasts were let out on a hunt. It couldn’t be Master, no, he was the only one the dogs obeyed. They were too loud for Master. Theon didn’t need to play a game of guessing; it could only be one person. Theon knew she would find him eventually. Maybe it was the Master, playing one of his tricks. Maybe he had forced her down here, wanting her to find him. Maybe it was punishment for listening in, for watching her from across the courtyard. Why, why?

Sansa couldn’t have heard what had happened to him, not by the look on her face. But most of Westeros must have known. They must have known how Balon Greyjoy’s last living son was a laughingstock to all of the Iron Islands. How he had tried and failed to take Winterfell, how he had handed it over to the Bolton’s and got Robb killed, the King in the North. His King. How he had betrayed his so-called captors, betrayed the people he knew best. How he had allowed his sister, Yara, and her soldiers to rescue him, only for Theon to refuse, only for him to stay Ramsey’s prisoner, to stay as Reek.

Theon grew up believing his was prisoner of the Starks, and maybe he was. But he was far more than that. He was the Starks children’s friend. He was Robb’s brother. He was part of their family. Maybe not in the way he had wished, the way he had secretly wanted. But as he had once said, his real father died in King’s Landing. The Starks were more of a family than the Greyjoy’s ever were. And he betrayed them. He could never make up for that. He would live as Reek for all of his days, serving his Master, feeling that guilt forever.

“Theon.” Sansa’s voice was relatively unchanged. Theon knew that voice. He had heard it many times. But the tone, that was different. Sansa didn’t see someone she knew. She didn’t see her brother’s friend. She saw a traitor. Theon wanted to curl up in that moment, get as far away as he could. If only Master would come. He would stop it. He might even get angry at Theon, yes, he would be angry. Would he end it all there? No, he would not. He didn’t want to die in that moment, he couldn’t. But the Godswood, that was different. He had sneanked away once, not so long ago. He had asked, he had prayed, he had even begged, to die as Theon, not as Reek. Never as Reek. But Master had found out. He has been angry. Master had done things…things he hadn’t before. He had punished Theon. No, Reek. Reek.

There she was, glaring down at him. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her breath shaky, her hands gripping tightly onto her dress. Theon had some idea what she was thinking, what she was feeling. Here sat the one person who had ruined everything, destroyed everything, anything that Sansa held dear was gone because of him. Sansa couldn’t have known who she would have found in the kennels. Who would have thought it, Theon Greyjoy, the once heir to the Iron Islands, would be a weak, prisoner? Would be Reek. Would no longer be himself.

Avoiding her eye, Theon could only shake his head. He couldn’t manage any words. What would he say? It was not Theon but Reek. Reek, Reek, it rhymes with weak. She had found Reek huddling in the corner, not Theon. Reek, Reek. Reek the freak. He couldn’t help her. He couldn’t defend what he had done. Not even Theon could do that. He couldn’t do anything.

Sansa’s gaze stayed on Theon, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. As if she couldn’t look away. She needed to know whether this was real, whether Theon was truly sitting below her, looking like that. Her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her, surely not. Theon was there. Theon. Not Reek to her, Sansa didn’t even know who Reek was.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Theon gulped; his eyes glazed over. Sansa shouldn’t have come down to the kennels, it wasn’t right. But Sansa shouldn’t be in Winterfell. A Stark should always be at Winterfell. But it had changed. This was not the place Sansa had once known. Not the place she had dreamt her dreams. Argued with her sister. Learnt to sew. Sansa couldn’t be here, no, no, no. Not with the Master, she couldn’t. What would he do to her? No, no, no. He didn’t want to think about that, that couldn’t happen. Not to Sansa. She needed to be as far away as possible. She couldn’t. Theon couldn’t let that happen. But Reek? Would Reek? Could he?

This only seemed to anger Sansa more, she let her hand drop from the gate, edging closer to him. No, no, no. Master wouldn’t like it, her getting so close. Would she strike him? She’d have every right. The slumped body down below quickly scattered closer to the edge of the cell, trying to get as far away from her as possible. She stopped in her tracks, looking him up and down. How pathetic did he look in this moment? How was this Theon Greyjoy?

Theon had been beaten, mutilated, stripped away. Theon Greyjoy, the Theon that Sansa knew, the Theon that grew up in Winterfell with the Starks, the Theon that betrayed them, no longer existed. Master had made sure of that. He’d taken him away, cast him aside, thrown him in the snow. But Sansa…Eddard Stark’s oldest daughter. Sansa Stark. Lady Sansa. This couldn’t be her end. She didn’t deserve it.

She would always be Sansa, she had to be. What had happened to Theon Greyjoy, it couldn’t happen to her. What the master had done to Theon Greyjoy, the cutting, the pulling, the knifing, the stripping, the pulling – all of it, that wasn’t going to happen to Sansa. Theon couldn’t let it. He wouldn’t.

Winterfell was Sansa’s home. That was what she would tell Myranda. She was a Stark, this was where she belonged. It just didn’t feel like it. She was surrounded by strangers, Bolton soldiers, northerners who had betrayed her family. And him, someone she hadn’t thought of for many years. Theon Greyjoy. A once valued member of Winterfell. Her father’s ward. Her brother’s friend. Maybe even her friend. She hadn’t expected to find him here. She wasn’t sure what she had expected. The last time she was at Winterfell, it felt like a different world. Sansa had no idea what horrors would visit her family. She knew of Theon’s betrayal. How the Frey’s had killed her brother and mother. How the Bolton’s had taken over her family home. But she had heard no word of Theon Greyjoy. It seemed Theon Greyjoy didn’t exist.

That was until she saw him, cowering them in the kennels. Sansa felt an intense wave of anger when she saw him. Followed by some confusion and even sadness. There sat the person who had ruined so much. Who had killed her two baby brothers, innocents. Why was he here? What was he doing?

The family was eating, and Sansa supposed she was included in that now. A relatively boring affair until Ramsey called out for some more wine. Sansa’s eyes flicked towards the door as this figure slowly walked into the room. It wasn’t the swagger she remembered when she was a child. He would often flounce around Winterfell’s grounds, as if he was so much better than everyone else. For a time, Sansa could see why he thought that. He was rather handsome. But now, he was anything but. She could see him more clearly now, than she had in the darkness of the kennels. Those once chestnut curls were now matted, his face was barely visible with the dirt and dust and the smell. Well, the smell was riper now. It was clear he hadn’t had a wash in a long time. What was Ramsey doing with him? The rags he was wearing engulfed him, as if they had always been too big.

The figure had avoided Sansa’s eye, as he had earlier. It was as if she wasn’t even in the room. It was clearly intended, to not look at her. This only angered Sansa more. How could he be here at Winterfell, to know she was here and just plainly ignore her? It seemed as if an eternity had passed before he arrived at the table, pouring Ramsey’s portion of wine first. Sansa assumed it was mainly due to what injury he had. His body seemed so small in comparison to the one she had seen practising archery and sparring with her brothers. He was hunched over, making no attempt to rise his head. The way he walked, that was different too. He was hobbling, as if he couldn’t walk straight.

“I heard you two had been reunited. A fitting place for it. I like to imagine that the last time you spoke was in this very room.” Sansa imagined Myranda, that girl, had told him. Reunited, she could have laughed if she wasn’t so angry.

Theon had stopped before pouring Sansa’s wine. It was only for a moment, a second, but Sansa had noticed. Sansa couldn’t help but move herself away from him as he poured. Not only was the smell almost unbearable, but she also didn’t want him to come any closer. Theon still hadn’t made an attempt to look at her, but Sansa made sure to watch him as he slowly walked around the table, pouring wine into the last remaining glasses.

Ramsey had started speaking, but Sansa wasn’t listening. All her energy, all her focus, all her anger was on one person. He had turned around now, focusing on something far away. But Sansa wouldn’t let herself turn. She couldn’t. There was a mention of punishment. Ramsey had punished Theon. Yes, that was evidently clear to Sansa. She didn’t need to know the details, but she could tell, it was not Theon standing there. He had been changed. Theon was looking at the ground, he seemed so intent on not looking at any of them. Even Ramsey. What had he done to him? How had he changed him? The Theon Greyjoy Sansa remembered, the one who had sworn loyalty to House Stark, to her brother Robb, he was not here. He was hidden. He was gone, perhaps.

But that was it, wasn’t it? He wasn’t Theon Greyjoy anymore. That was clear to Sansa. Ramsey began to explain himself, using that bizarre name. Reek. Theon turned around quickly at the call of his so-called new name. He looked at Ramsey now, the first time had had focused his eyes on anyone in the room. He looked at only his master.

“Yes, Master.” This was the first time Sansa had heard him speak, properly speak. That voice, it sounded so strange. Sansa wasn’t familiar with it. She didn’t like it. How it scraped across her ears.

Reek. Reek. Ramsey kept using this new name. And Theon responded to that. She had called him Theon when she first saw him again. But no, it wasn’t Theon but Reek. Reek. Gods, it even sounded revolting. Ramsey knew what he was doing, by using this name. But Sansa didn’t understand. What was Ramsey doing? What was he trying to achieve? It was clear that it wasn’t just Sansa who was feeling uncomfortable. The atmosphere before this awful conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant, but Sansa didn’t care. She had gotten used to ignoring things, only listening to what was important. But now, it was too strange.

Frowning, Sansa spoke up. “Why are you doing this?” It was unlikely that she would receive a proper answer from Ramsey. Or at least a truthful one. She was used to being lied to. Being tricked.

Ramsey smiled, stating Reek had something to say. What could he say to make this any better? His eyes flickered around the room, not staying in one place. He didn’t move, not until he was forced to follow Ramsey’s finger, turning to face his master. Limping along, he only look at Ramsey in that moment. His eyes were not focused, as if he was transported somewhere else.

Ramsey was losing his patience with his servant, that was clear to Sansa. Asking for an apology. She didn’t want him to apologise. She didn’t want him to be here. She didn’t want anything from him. But it seemed Ramsey Bolton always got what he wanted. He wanted to kill Theon Greyjoy, and clearly, he had. Theon wasn’t there. His mouth moved ever so slightly, but no words appeared. A quiver, and then he managed a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Look at her, Reek. An apology doesn’t mean anything if you’re not looking the person in the eye.” He still only looked at Ramsey. He couldn’t even look at her. He was forced to look at her, but he knew she was there. He knew she was looking at him with so much feeling. Sansa took a deep breath, her eyes still focused on him, trying to gauge what he was going to do.

“I’m sorry.” Theon didn’t whisper this time. His voiced echoed the room. But this still wasn’t Theon’s voice, but Reek’s. Theon had finally looked at her. It didn’t give Sansa the satisfaction she had wanted, only made her feel worse.

And what was he sorry for? Ramsey didn’t miss a beat, as if he had planned this. For killing her brothers, yes, Theon. But that wasn’t all Theon had done. Ser Rodrik. Bran. Rickon. Maester Luwin. Robb. Her mother. Betraying her father. Winterfell. The North.

He had stopped looking at her now and Sansa in turn broke her gaze with him, feeling Ramsey’s eyes on her. Did he want a reaction from Sansa? Did he want her to shout out? That wasn’t going to happen. No matter how angry Sansa was, how broken she was even just thinking about her family, she wouldn’t give anyone that satisfaction. Not now. Not after everything. Theon’s breathing became sharp, and he had resumed his previous position of avoiding her eye.

Ramsey laughed, like it was all just a game. Sansa didn’t like games. She’d had enough experience of games in the capitol. But this was different. The games Cersei, Joffrey, even Tyrion would play, they were not the same as Ramsey Bolton’s games. Not one bit. Ramsey was speaking again, Sansa only caught so much of what he was saying. The figure had this back turned once again, but Sansa was still looking at him. It was as if she couldn’t stop looking at him. She wanted him to feel her eyes on him, the hairs on his neck to raise.

But Ramsey had not finished. Theon, or rather, Reek, was the closest thing Sansa had to family. Family? Her family was dead. Her brothers, dead. Her father, dead. Her mother, dead. Her sister, probably dead. She had no one. Not even Littlefinger. Theon was not here, but Reek. And Reek would give Sansa away.

There was a part of Sansa who looked at Theon as he was now and felt validation. He deserved this, he deserved all of this. For what he did to her, to her family, her home. But that part of Sansa was angry, she was angry at her father, at his death, at the Lannisters, and now the Boltons. She almost felt sorry for him, almost. She felt sorry for the person she had once known. Sorry for the Theon Greyjoy, who had grown up with the Stark children. Theon Greyjoy, who had laughed at Robb’s bad jokes. Theon Greyjoy, who was always a part of their life growing up. But then he destroyed it all.

Theon should have died. He should have died with Robb. But he didn’t. He was here with Sansa at Winterfell. He was the last connection she had to her childhood. As Ramsey had put it, the closest thing she had to living kin. How sad that was. Or maybe he should have died for his crimes. A traitor of the North. Beheaded, as her father once was. Felt the pain, as she had. The sadness, as the North had. But he didn’t do any of that. Whatever had happened to Theon, he was here at Winterfell, with Sansa.

Theon didn’t look like Theon. He didn’t walk like Theon, talk like Theon. It was if he was someone else completely. Reek, as Ramsey had said. His name was now Reek. Sansa didn’t entirely understand Ramsey at first. He was…odd. He said and did strange things. And that devilish smile, Sansa did not believe any good would come for her here. After that conversation, Sansa seemed to have an idea about what Ramsey was like, but not fully. She would not realise what kind of man Ramsey Bolton was until her wedding night.

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writing-plurals · 2 years

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Heya! Singlet here with plenty of plural friends (so feel free to use any terms, I will be familiar with them), and I’ve got a DnD campaign I need a character for. Been thinking about it and I’d really like to try playing a plural character, or a plural-coded character, but I’m not sure how the mechanics of switching would work!

Maybe I roll a dice upon my character waking up and the number corresponds to which headmate is at the front? That’s the only thing I can think of, and beyond that, what are some things that I should do or think about to make this more accurate?

I’m hoping to introduce my party to the concept of plurality through this—since it is an interest of mine that I like to talk about! Obviously no “evil alter” trope or anything like that, but what are some other things I should avoid for sure? Thanks in advance for any help you can provide!

Hi! DnD nerd, and plural who has attempted this here!!

A) This is one hundred percent something you'll wanna finetune with your DM. Ultimately, some tables are more suited for certain kinds of narratives, and levels of complexity like this. Make sure if you're bringing something of this caliber to the table, that's something everyone is okay with, basically. And that no one is gonna feel overshadowed by it. It's one hell of a background to play with, not to mention how much work you're gonna have to be putting in to pull it off, (but done right, it can be totally worth it!!!!)

B) Once you know everyone's okay with this kinda dealio, though, I'd really start with a small system, think, like, 2-4 people. If it's two 0r three people, you can just roll a d6 (odds and evens or 1/2 3/4,5/6), and see if it lands on even or odd in the morning, if dice are how you choose the fronter that day. A d4 if you have four in the system, but I really wouldn't push it beyond that.

C) The meat of all this is how you and your DM decide to balance what it means to have several people in one adventurer. Do you have everyone under the same subclass, different stats, aka, different character sheet, functionally? Or is your DM open to some flexibility with what each person does with a class? How does any spell casting work? If one can spell cast, does that mean all of them have access to a kind of magic too, or do they all have the same spell list to use, kinda like muscle memory?

D) What is probably gonna be the most fun, though, (depending on how much you love dealing with mechanics and such), and you've ironed out what is and isn't OP for your table and your DM, have fun with it. I know that's the obvious part, but seriously, have so much fun with it. Lean as much into it as your party narrative allows, and lean into there being more than one people in this adventurer that's dealing with whatever your party is thrown into, and how those personalities interact with it.

If you can get this sort of thing going in your game, PLEASE send an update, because I've never been able to finalize a character like that, and it sounds like so much fun!!!

-Mod Tick Tock (and dnd enthusiast)

#Mod Tick Tock #writing plural characters #actuallyplural #plural gang #plural system #plural representation #plural pride

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youchangedmedestiel · 9 months

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Dean needs Cas and wants him to stay

Maybe someone has already done that, probably, but I needed to do it, because I started to think about how Dean doesn’t want Cas to leave starting from season 8 because one, there is no bunker, no real home before this season, except maybe at Bobby’s. Two, in season 4 and 5 Dean and Cas are not that close, their bond is only being developed slowly in season 5 since Cas is not being brainwashed anymore and most of the time he is searching for God. Three, in season 6 Cas works behind Dean’s back to fight Heaven’s war and Dean isn’t happy about it because Cas doesn’t tell them much about what his plan is, and they spent a year apart before that. Four, in season 7 Cas is supposedly dead, then Emmanuel and then not himself and Dean is still mad at him for the betrayal. Meg keeps them posted on Cas’s evolution anyway.

Finally, in season 8, Purgatory happened, their first hug happened and Dean did say he needed Cas. I mean DUH. So let’s see how much he needs him and wants him to stay. Let's hurt together.

Season 8: Cas crushing Dean’s heart repeatedly by leaving

Dean feels guilty for failing Cas and not being able to get him out, he alters the reality of his memory, not being able to accept the fact Cas gave up and left him, especially after he said he need him. But when Cas comes back from Purgatory, he leaves Dean multiple times. First, after killing Samandriel, Dean tells him to wait before he vanishes and even says his name once he is gone (8x10). Sam and Dean actually finds the bunker only in episode 8x13. Later, Cas lies about searching the other half of the demon tablet and Dean says “Without us?” And then, Cas grabs the angel tablet leaving Dean alone and emotionally hurt in the crypt (8x17). Dean put his heart out and Cas just crushed it, so he has a hard time forgiving him for that, but despite being mad he hopes he will come back to him as Naomi highlights it wisely (8x19). When he comes back, Dean is really mad at him for not trusting him and leaving (8x22).

Season 9: Dean has to ask human!Cas to leave the bunker, their hearts are crushed

As soon as Dean knows angels are searching for Cas and that Cas is human he tells him to go in the bunker immediately. When they reunite, Dean’s reaction to Cas’s death is really something, the shaking voice as he says his name, realizing Cas is gone, and the soft “Yeah” as Cas calls him when he wakes up. This season Cas doesn’t leave Dean, Dean is the one asking him to go because he doesn’t have any other choice and it hurts Cas (9x03). But Dean is hurt too since he tells Sam "Hey, look, nobody wants him here more than I do, okay?" (9x04). Dean does go check on him as soon as Cas called him about a case (9x06). Dean has to send him away a second time because of Gadreel (9x09). He apologizes later to Cas for that, now that he is back to help him (9x10). Then, Dean starts to feel the effect of the Mark of Cain starting from episode 11, so he is not really himself, especially after killing Abaddon (9x21). He knows that Cas is away searching for a way to bring the angels back to Heaven and stop Metatron, Cas updates them. But when he doesn’t answer his phone and seems to be missing, Dean orders Sam to go find him while he takes care of Gadreel (9x18).

Season 10: Dean is affected by the Mark of Cain and Cas searches for a cure

Dean is really affected by the Mark of Cain, so not really himself. However, he tells Cas “I’m glad you’re here, man” after he helped Sam cure him (10x03). Then, Cas is away most of the time to help Claire (10x09, 10x10 and 10x20) and to find a cure to save Dean. They help him with Claire a little bit. Mostly, this season Cas works with Sam to find a way to remove the Mark of Cain.

Season 11: Dean wants to save Cas and Cas’s body

Dean wants to go find Cas after Cas called him when he was affected by the attack dog spell (11x01). Then, he doesn’t want to call Cas to disturb him in his binge-watching at the bunker, because he had a rough go (11x04 and 11x05). Sam tells Dean they might need help from Cas to find Amara and Dean knows it, but he doesn’t want to ask him that, saying he had a rough go lately. Sam highlights that they all did. Dean looks away, makes dimples of discontent, and finally agrees to call him, but he doesn’t really want to. He prefers Cas staying safe at the bunker (11x06). Dean is the one searching for Cas (actually Casifer) when they are back at the bunker after killing the banshee (11x12) and discovers that he is gone, telling Sam he was weird when he saw him earlier. When Dean discovers that Cas said yes to Lucifer, he doesn’t want to believe that he doesn’t want to be saved and wants to save him anyway (11x14 until 11x18). He even faces Amara, putting himself at risk, to allow Sam to go save Casifer (11x21). He worries about him again when Casifer is going to fight against Amara one on one (11x22).

Season 12: Dean tries to prevent Cas from being killed

Dean wants to go with Cas that found a lead on Lucifer but Cas refuses (12x03). Dean just wants to go home when Cas almost dies (12x12). Through this season, after searching for Lucifer, Cas is searching for Kelly Kline, updating them/Dean regularly on his findings (12x04, 12x13 and 12x15), that’s how Dean notices Cas sounding weird as he goes in Heaven. And when Cas doesn’t call Dean for days, he is worried and searches for him even before Sam suggests it (12x18). He finally comes back and Dean is mad because they were, well mostly HE WAS, worried. But then, Cas leaves him again, stealing the Colt from under his pillow. Later, once again, he runs away with Kelly. And another last time, he forces them to fall asleep and leaves (12x19). At last, Cas dies and Dean falls on his knees next to his dead body after screaming “nooo” to try to stop him to go after Lucifer in Apocalypse world (12x23). Dean’s worst fear has come true, he definitely loses Cas.

Season 13: Dean is grieving, then terrified to lose Cas again

Dean grieves Cas really hard for 5 episodes. When Cas comes back he is so happy again and he doesn’t want him to go alone again to find Jack and wants to go with him, but Cas stops him, as a last resort Dean tells Cas “don’t do anything stupid” (13x07). Cas ends up kidnapped by Asmodeus. The knight of Hell calls Sam to give update about Jack (13x08 and 13x09). Dean apologizes for not being able to notice Cas was kidnapped, saying they would have search for him if they knew (13x13). Cas wants to try to find help from angels but Dean isn’t happy about it, doesn’t agree at first and finally says “just don’t get dead again”, as a last resort again (13x19). Dean is just too scared to lose him again.

Season 14: Dean is having his family in the bunker all together

Most of the time Cas is gone with Jack to work a case, when he is not in the bunker with them, which is not a problem for Dean because this means Cas will come back with Jack at the bunker. Actually, he is almost always here, at least “for a few weeks”, because Dean tells Sam he saw Cas going out of the bunker early in the morning to stretch his legs and that he understands why he needs it (14x16).

Season 15: Dean is mad and finally asks Cas to stay in his own words

The first eight episodes Dean is mad at Cas, he is mad at everything actually. Even mad and after saying awful things, he asks Cas where he is going when Cas decides to leave (15x03). He doesn’t want him to break all contact when he says that Cas should check the messages Sam sent him (15x06). Dean comes back after hearing Cas’s messages saying that Sam was hurt. It’s the first time they see each other after Cas left the bunker. They stand in the war room and Cas leaves after saying Sam is ok and Dean is not happy about it. He probably wanted to talk but he couldn’t himself and Cas either (15x07). Dean is still mad at Cas for leaving as he says “Maybe if you didn't just up and leave us.” But finally, in his prayer to Cas, scared as hell to lose him again, he admits that he should have stopped him, that he forgives him “of course” and that he is sorry (15x09). When Cas leaves the bunker in the middle of the night to find another way to stop Chuck and save Jack, Dean asks him twice where he is going (15x15). And finally, Dean asks him one last time not to leave him, telling him “Don’t do this, Cas”, when Cas is sacrificing himself to summon the Empty and save Dean.

To summarize:

As soon as they had a real home, being the bunker, Dean wanted Cas to stay with them. He never told him clearly, probably thinking Cas doesn't want to stay, but he showed it so many times. Despite all his effort, he loses him countless times. The last time he loses him, Dean does say “Don’t do this, Cas” trying to stop him, he asked him to stay in his own words but Cas just left anyway, to save him. (Shit, I need to end this on a positive note). But Dean finally is able to reunite with him again in Heaven, where he can’t lose him anymore. (Alright, that’s better).

#spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #dean needs cas #dean wants cas to stay #dean is afraid to lose cas #spn meta #It's my first meta #so please be nice #I just like thinking about those two idiots #and I just wanted to share my thoughts #maybe I missed some #feel free to add other things I might have missed #i hurt myself writing that #why did I do that?#but it's fine they reunite in Heaven anyway #my random thoughts about destiel

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

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you may not use me as your factory

Title taken from the poem Right to Life by Marge Piercy.

Prompt: Something Unexpected

TMNT IDW.

Based on Ibenholt's amazing Rule 63!Leonardo series, This coincidence has been carefully planned - Lavinia/Shredder. Also inspired by certain Supreme Court Justices I would like to set on fire right now.

(warnings for past underage noncon, past brainwashing, teen pregnancy, discussion of abortions, unexpected pregnancy, suicidal thoughts, self-harm)

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

There's a spider crawling up the wall.

She just makes it out in the lab's crisp light, pushing its determined self higher and higher. They'll probably need to get it out of here before it ends up in the mutagen Donnie's been talking about experimenting with or something equally gruesome.

"Nia?"

They could take it outside, maybe. Or she could just crush it now. It wouldn't make much difference in the end.

"Nia?"

She has vague memories of being that small, that narrowed down to her own little world, in a lab much like this one. She still can't decide if that was better; she didn't have any control of her life, sure, but it's not like that stopped being an issue when she mutated.

"Nia!"

"Hmm?" Lavinia peels her gaze from the spider, shifting slightly and feeling the exam table crinkle under her. When did they get an exam table? Did they set it up when she was here, or did it come while she was...elsewhere?

"Just...say something. I need to know that you're processing this."

Because that's a question they actually have to ask, these days. She could have led the mission to get this exam table for all she knows, what with the Swiss cheese she's got in place of a brain.

"Nia, can you look at me? Please?"

Okay, she can do that. She can look at her brother, her Donnie, who loves her. She can look at him, and from there she can look at the tangle of wires and gizmos he's cobbled together, all leading to the same glowing screen. Lights flickering in the darkness and it's a such a hopeful fucking image, really, unless you're ninja and the light in the dark can kill you.

She has a wild thought that if she'd just kept quiet about the nausea, the cravings, the dizzy spells, the headaches, the constant bathroom breaks, all the shit that's been cropping up recently, then she'd never have to acknowledge the existence of those lights. Eventually it would go away on its own, but now, now she's made it real.

There are three of them. Three little bombs living in her guts, ready to tear her apart--already tearing her apart, because no matter what happens the truth is she will never be able to undo this moment. As with all of the other ways Oroku Saki has violated her, there is no going back.

"How," her breath hitches and she swallows, clears her throat. When she speaks again her voice is dead calm. "How far along am--" No, that's not it; Nia doesn't want to frame this as a journey she's taking. "How developed are they?"

"It's hard to say." He turns to look at the screen, biting his lip. “Turtles usually lay eggs three to six weeks after conception but with your altered biology we should be considering a different timeframe. It’s been almost two months since–since we got you back, so…”

One month, three weeks, four days, and winding into the twentieth hour. But who’s counting?

“And they’re…viable?” she says carefully. Alive doesn’t fit these blurry little lumps, these insignificant clusters of cells, even if there are some humans who’ve convinced themselves otherwise.

Donnie glances at his computer, taps some keys. “I think so. It’s hard to tell–”

“What with the father being a recently resurrected homicidal maniac, and from another species to boot?” She’s shocked by how cold her voice is, how dry. Shouldn’t she be screaming or crying or something right now?

Her brother goes still, staring at his computer. He knows, of course he knows, they all know, she saw her bruises and bite marks, they’ve heard her wake up screaming for her husband. But they’ve never talked about it so bluntly before. She hasn’t dared.

Right now, though, she doesn’t feel daring. She doesn’t feel much of anything, really. There’s an emptiness growing inside her, like Saki’s last little bundle of surprises have started nibbling away at her guts.

Donnie sits up and looks at her. “Nia,” he says quietly, and pauses, mouth working as he tries to work out what to say about this fresh hell. “Nia,” he tries again.

And suddenly Nia can’t look at him, can’t face his pity and shame and barely suppressed horror. “I’m going for a run,” she announces, sliding off the table.

Donnie doesn’t stop her as she strides across the room and grabs her swords, sliding them into place on her shell. The familiar weight is almost comforting.

“Saki,” she moans playfully as he wraps his fingers around her shoulder straps and tugs her back against him. He chuckles, fingers passing idly over her stomach.

Almost.

Her other brothers are out tonight and there's no sign of Splinter, thank God. Hey, Sensei, you're going to be a grandpa, and the father is our mortal enemy who brainwashed and raped me to show how much he loved me! She’s already running by the time she reaches the entrance into the sewers.

Nia doesn't pace herself, just runs, feet slapping on unforgiving stone as her mask tails snap in her own breeze. Running, running, running through the tunnels that are so dark even her brothers hesitate to enter, but they haven't lived with the absolute darkness the way Nia has, haven't learned how to let it into the deepest corners of their hearts and minds.

Once, Saki was the only one who could keep up with her on a dead run through pitch dark, the one who'd sprint at her side without so much as a whisper of hesitation. Fearless, he'd called her, and she's had to train herself not to flinch when Raph uses the nickname now.

Had Saki considered this possibility? Or had he been like her, stupidly believing that it was impossible for a (mostly) human man to knock up a freakish turtle woman, as if her very existence wasn't an impossibility already.

Could he have wanted this? Did his batshit delusions include a baby makes three scenario, a little monster to take over his bloodstained kingdom? She doesn't fucking know, and that feels like one of the most terrifying parts of it all.

Nia thinks, wildly, of climbing to the surface and finding a decent-sized height to jump from, but she's been hurling herself from quite a few places since she left Saki, and none of that got rid of her little 'problem' before she had to find out about it.

Or you could jump from somewhere higher and not worry about sticking the landing, whispers a voice that sounds a bit like Kitsune and a bit like her own. Or you could go the simple way and use your swords. Or you could find a nice deep river and open your mouth--

She can't, she won't, she won't do that to her brothers, her father. You don't think they'd be relieved, deep down? They wouldn't have to worry about keeping what's left of you together or bear the shame of your little parasite. They'd be better off, they'd all be--

Nia crashes to a halt, banging her hands against the wall so hard she feels blood running down her palms. Her knees quiver and she sinks to the ground in a sweaty, shaking tangle, hugging herself.

"Fuck," she rasps into the dark, voice trembling. And then, louder. "Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!"

Look at that, Fearless finally learned how to swear, Raph cracks in her head, because her skull is a fucking party these days, why not? Nia laughs hysterically and slams her fist into the wall.

She screams as she does it--not because it hurts, although it does sting like a motherfucker--but because she has to get the noise building in her head out somehow before it rips her apart from the inside out. So she screams, the sound echoing through the dark, and hits and screams and hits and screams and screams.

More blood spills as her scales rip off, as her flesh tears. Bones shudder and crack in her fingers. But she doesn't stop hitting and she doesn't stop screaming until the screams start to turn into deep, body-shaking sobs, until she's crying so hard, she can't even throw a punch anymore. Useless. So fucking useless.

She collapses in on herself, still crying, and keeps it up until the darkness slips through her eyelids and carries her away.

And then she's standing in a familiar garden, a brook trickling gently at her feet while the wind rustles gently over her scales. The scents of flowers she hasn't seen since her first life hang in the air, sweet and heavy.

"Daughter."

Nia turns to find Tang Shen standing beside her, hair hanging loose, eyes world-weary and sorrowful. She holds out her arms and Nia stumbles into them, letting fresh tears spill down her cheeks.

"I can't, Mama," she whispers. "I can't do it--I won't."

She doesn't want children, isn't sure if she'll ever want them. And she certainly doesn't want them now, like this, from him.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, holding on for dear life. If she's rejected in the next moment, she can take it. She'll have to, because she won't go back on this, not for this.

But her mother's voice is gentle, fingers soft as they run down the back of Nia's shell. "It's all right, love. None of this is your fault." She plants a soft kiss on the top of Nia's head. "Be ashamed of nothing, do you understand?"

"It's--it's hard," Nia forces out. "It's so

hard,

Mama."

"I know, my sweet, brave girl." Shen whispers. She lowers them to the bank, the flowers rustling gently under their bodies. "But you'll make it, darling. I know you will." She sounds so certain Nia almost manages to believe her.

"I love you no matter what you choose," Shen murmurs into her ear. "Anyone who deserves you will, my beautiful--"

"Nia!"

Her eyes snap open with a gasp, and she squints up into a painfully bright lamp. Donnie kneels over her, eyes wide as he pulls her upright.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," Nia mumbles, and winces at the flare of pain in her raw, aching throat "How...?"

"Tracking chip, remember?" Donnie throws her arm around his neck and staggers to his feet with a grunt. Right, she'd had them all chipped after she got back from Saki, unable to stand the idea of losing one of them again. "But it took ages for the signal to go through down here...you scared the shit out of me, Nia."

"'M sorry," she mumbles, glancing at her feet as they shamble out of the tunnel. "I got angry, and then I got tired." She snorts. "Dunno how Raph does it."

"A steady diet of Red Bull and emo music, no doubt," Donnie mutters dryly, like Nia can't feel how tightly he's squeezing her.

"Donnie?" she asks.

A beat. "Yeah?"

"I can't keep it. I...I don't know if there's something you can do, or if we'll have to break--break the eggs, but I can't keep it."

He doesn't hesitate. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Of course okay, Nia. I'll have to do some research, a bit of practice, but I think I can figure something out. I'll get Fugitoid to help me with extranormal biology if I need to--without sharing details," he adds, as Nia tenses. "No one has to know who doesn't need to."

Raph. Mikey. Will she tell them? She's not sure of the answer, or even whether she'll have much of a choice. But Splinter...

"Father can't know," she whispers. Nia doesn't know how he'd react to all this, but something tells her she doesn't want to find out.

"He won't," Donnie says firmly, hoisting her a little higher and clicking off his lamp as they draw towards a lighter section of the sewers." But even if he does, there's nothing he can make you do, understand?"

"Yeah," Nia says, clinging on a little tighter, letting her brother help her hold herself together. And step by step, they make their way into the light.

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thesunicarusfellfor · 3 years

Text

Mortal of Gold - Part 3

(Yandere!C!Techno x GN!Shy!Reader x Yandere!C!Philza)

Anyone want my list of the characters as gods? There were a few characters that I couldn't think of like Ponk, so I just left them out. ANYWAY. Hi, how's it going? ALSO I CANT EDIT THIS DAMN POST AND THE SPELLING ERRORS ARE SO IRRITATING

Part 1 Part 2 TW: Mention of amnesia, memories being altered Send me a message via inbox if you wanna be added to a general or series tag list. Make sure to turn off anon, please. ------- “They weren’t born… A mortal?”

A light wind brushed over your features, causing you to give a small sigh and roll over onto your side in an attempt to block the light from hitting your lidded eyes. It was nice and quiet for once… “(Y/n)?” A distorted voice echoed softly, causing you to flinch a bit. You opened your eyes slightly to see a silky blackbird sitting on the sheets beside you, a few golden trinkets laying beside it. Upon seeing your eyes slide open, the creature hopped up onto its legs and began making soft cooing noises, “(Y/n)! (Y/n), you’re awake!” Glancing around at the surroundings you had been placed in, racking your mind for any sort of familiarity but failing to come up with anything at all, even who you were. You sat up, slowly brushing your fingers along your ombre silk clothing before putting your hands on the sheets below your body, frowning as you didn’t recognize the bed as yours. “Hello…” You murmured softly, reaching your hand out to the crow who eagerly jumped forward to nuzzle your hand. The feathers of the bird felt… Odd. They felt more like grabbing at misty fog, but with a light staticky cotton texture that caused a buzzing sensation on your fingertips, “I’m sorry, my memory… Seems to be a tad faulty… Could you tell me your name?” “I’m Chat, Dadza- er… Philza’s familiar! I was a gift from Mumza, oops... Kristen, the Goddess of Void and Death.” It chirped, its voice having multiple layers in your head, causing you to shake your head a slight bit, “No, they’re not married, only parental figures to the souls that pass on to the afterlife or those they saved sometime before they passed on… I believe they have more of a co-worker relationship.” You nodded slightly, pursing your lips at how the creature’s voice sounded in your mind. It was unsettling and caused shivers to crawl up and down your back, but at the same time, it was incredibly calming and had a soothing aura. How that worked, you had no clue whatsoever. Brushing off the unsettling voice of the bird, you decided to focus on the name that caused a light to go off in your head, “Alright… Philza… I think I remember that name…” “Yeah! Dadza- Eck… Sorry. Phil, he’s the God of Survival and Crows! He controls not only every crow in the mortal land, but he also controls whether or not someone will survive a situation. If there is no way that the mortal can survive, he will send a crow down and have them guide the soul of the mortal to him! Then he escorts them to Kristen! He has gained the name Angel of Death because he works for Mumza!” You decided not to question why the crow called Philza and Kristen Mumza and Dadza, knowing that you’d probably find out later, but by the sound of it Chat seemed to be multiple children, “Okay… Makes sense…” You mumbled slowly, nodding your head up and down. With a sigh you slowly brought your legs over to the side of the bed, only now becoming aware of how large the soft mattress was. Lowlands! (Hell) You could probably fit six people who were ten feet tall in it with room to roam! Pushing yourself off the bed, you also realized how high the beautiful bed was off the floor, Gods, whoever lived here was tall! Behind you, you heard a small chirp, and you saw Chat watching you curiously. With a small shrug, you decided to pick the familiar up and hold it in your cupped hands as you walked out the door, “Oooh! Dadza never carries us like this, and Technoblade does only when he’s about to yeet us out a window!” “Yeet?” You scowled in confusion as you walked through the arched doorway, your bare feet padding silently on the quartz flooring, “I'm scared to ask. Technoblade? Is he also a god of some things? He sounds familiar as well…” “That’s its word for throwing something. Well, it yells the word when they throw something or get thrown, so I assume it’s yelling in excitement,” A deep voice spoke from in front of you, causing you to gasp and lift your head from the crow. The telepathic chirping and squeaks from Chat in your mind quickly formed the name Technoblade, so… You had a feeling that your answer was on its way past his

lips, “I’m Technoblade, or Techno, the God of Blood and War. It’s… nice to see you finally awake…” He shifted awkwardly on his feet as you curiously studied him. His appearance could certainly be described as godly if anyone asked you. His long pink hair was mostly twisted and tied into a braid with bits of golden chain and a polished golden crown adorned with rubies, garnets and diamonds. Upon his pale skin, dozens of scars of varying sizes decorated his skin in different areas, but they were displayed in an almost proud manner. Almost. When he spoke, his dark pink eyes hidden behind cracked glasses searched your form for any sort of injury, “I’m… (Y/n)... I think. I don’t know if this bird is exactly trustworthy in its information… Do you know where I am?” Techno snorted as Chat gave an offended squawk at your statement, “That’s very fair, to be honest. You’re in the Tundra of the Upperlands, and this is my palace. No there is no snow, I believe the person who named this place has never looked into the name or word Tundra, but it’s been like this for too long to change it-” He paused for a moment as he noticed you looking extremely confused, “Ah. Right. Desert. Don’t worry about it.” “Oh… Okay…” You frowned at the tusked male for a moment before shaking your head, deciding not to question it much, “Now, uh… How did I get here, and why don’t I remember anything about myself? Or, about you and this Philza guy, I was told about.” You lifted Chat slightly toward Techno as a silent indication that Chat was the one who told you about Phil. “That’s uh… Phil’s field of expertise.” He rubbed the back of his head with his black-tipped fingers before adjusting his crown, “I don’t understand much of what happened, and Phil will tell you what you need to know that will keep you safe.” Hesitantly, he held his free hand out towards you making you realize that he was easily over seven and a half feet tall, “C’mon, I’ll take you to him and get you the answers you need.” His hand was extremely steady, you noticed as you stared down at it cautiously. Once you noticed that he didn’t seem to want to do you harm, you slowly shifted Chat into one hand and used your free hand to take the one extended to you, which you couldn’t help but notice, made Technoblade very happy, “Okay. Thank you.” The god held your hand in his calloused one for a few moments before beginning to lead you down the tan and white hallways that were turned a light golden hue from the rising sun. It was quite a long walk filled with a slightly uncomfortable silence, but you distracted yourself by looking around the palace curiously. It was obvious he was the God of War by how many swords hanging on walls and sets of armour he had placed on armour stands in the hallways. Eventually, he walked you through an archway that led into a wide-open room with multiple windows that had many crows perched on the windowsills, some chirping and singing some little tune in perfect unison while others shuffled around, seeming to do a little dance. You were quick to realize the whistling of one of the birds didn’t match up and noticed that it was coming from the man with the large white and green striped hat as well as massive black feathered wings dangling on his back, fluffing themselves up every so often. When you and Techno stepped in, the blackbirds started chirping loudly, losing the rhythm of the tune the winged man was whistling as Chat started telepathically squealing about… 2/4? Two out of four what? “Ah!” The hat-wearing male turned around and clasped his hands together upon seeing you standing up, “(Y/n), you’re awake. I was worried the injuries you sustained were enough to keep you out cold for a few more weeks. I’m glad to see I was wrong. I’m Philza, God of Survival and Crows, and I see you’ve met Chat and Techno. Pesky bird, I told it not to wake you...” You pursed your lips for a moment, analyzing the shorter god as the bird squealed out its protests. While he was shorter than Techno, he was certainly tall, standing roughly around six feet tall, his wingspan

probably double that for each wing! His blonde hair was long around his face but was pulled into a loose braid like Techno’s was, although instead of gold intertwined into his hair, it was silver. His outfit was made up of a loose green shirt and black pants, with a red heart-shaped pendant dangling off of a chain into the center of his chest. Why did that pendant… Look familiar? You slowly rose your hand up and clasped at the pendant around your neck, noticing how Philza smiled softly, “Technoblade… Said you could tell me why I can’t remember anything?” “You’re still wearing my gift, I see,” Philza gave a soft hum as Chat jumped from your hand and onto his shoulder, before gesturing for you and Techno to take a seat where he already had drinks and some form of cakes set out, but they certainly weren’t there when you came in. Upon seeing your confused blinking, he gave a soft laugh, “I’m a god, mate, magic is no difficult task for me, let alone creating some measly tea and desserts. Now, sit down and I will tell you everything…” - General - None Mortal of Gold -@generalalmond @binas-idea-vault @ohworm-writes

#philza x reader #technoblade x reader #techno x reader #yandere philza x reader #yandere technoblade x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #yandere mcyt #dream smp #dream smp x reader #technoblade dream smp #philza dream smp #technoblade dreamsmp #philza dreamsmp #phil dream smp #phil dreamsmp #mcyt au #dsmp #mcyt god au

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

the shapes in the silence (13)

warning: illness, mild emetophobia, arguing, panic attack, dissociation, altered mental state, guilt

They had very little time to process, after Puff-- Anxiety-- their rescuer collapsed limply to the ground.

Roman and Patton each burst into their own hysterics, but Logan was utterly silent. He was frozen, mind racing and connecting a thousand little dots, like realizing a constellation had been right in front of you, you’d just somehow missed the brightest star.

The form of Anxiety was sprawled out undeniably in front of them, struck down by the attack that had been levied against Puff, because he was Puff. He’d wondered why Anxiety wasn’t prone to their shrinking dilemma, but he’d been dealing with it the longest. Anxiety’s withdrawal and Puff’s strange behavior were causation and correlation.

Anxiety lay before them, but whatever he had done to change his form, to protect them against attack, it had changed him. Small purple scales curled over his cheekbones, two curved, deer-like ears lay limp on the sides of his head, and even a tail where there had been none before.

If there had ever been any way to refute his connection to Puff, his appearance now countered it single-handedly.

In the end, it was the doubts that snapped them all out of it.

Sinuous, shifting forms that changed with every blink, they crawled up from their blind spots, appearing in the corners of their vision.

Roman snapped his sword hand back up reflexively, frowning, but Logan could easily read the confusion scrawled across his posture. He’d complained at length about the creatures, their persistent aggression and the way that they always heralded Anxiety’s appearance in this realm, like the world’s creepiest minions.

But Anxiety lay prone at their feet, in no state to control anything, and furthermore, the glittering eyes of the doubts seemed almost… locked on him, glinting with malice.

More questions, and the only one who could answer them was unconscious and quickly gaining a sickly tint to his skin. The doubts were creatures of despair, and if they reached Patton or Anxiety-- the more emotion-driven pair out of the four of them-- the results could be disastrous. They needed out, now.

Logan firmed his shoulders, moving to cut through the panicked back-and-forth his companions were doing.

“Roman,” he called, taking reference from every instructor that Thomas had ever respected to insert authority into his tone, “pick Anxiety up.”

The creative side jerked, his eyes drawn down to Anxiety for a second before flickering away. “And give up my stalwart defense? We’ll be overcome before we reach anything resembling an exit!”

“You need to pick up Anxiety,” Logan repeated, and took a deep breath, shedding all the dirt and gore that he had accumulated while trekking through the Imagination. “I’m bringing the exit to us.”

Applying his function to a space that wasn’t real tended to... destabilize it. It was a last resort, the sort of thing that they’d figured out early on should be avoided. Roman demonstrably put his heart and soul into his work, after all, and fracturing it hurt Creativity as much as the realm itself. Even something as small as Logan breaking his own immersion made Roman twitch, let alone what he was about to pull.

Roman’s eyes went wide with understanding, and then grim determination. He sheathed his sword back into nothing and knelt down at the fallen Side’s side, only hesitating for the barest moment before sliding his arms under his shoulders and knees and lifting him into the air.

The motion seemed to jar Anxiety, and he let out a pained whine that wouldn’t have sounded out of place coming from Puff. Lifted up like this, they could see the singed gouge that tore through the back of his hoodie, the smoking, rotting injury lined up on his spine in the exact same place it had hit Puff.

“It looks bad,” Patton whispered, his eyes wet and his hands half-pressed over his mouth. The doubts were closer now, circling like wolves. They couldn’t be allowed to worsen Anxiety’s condition.

“We will handle it,” Logan said, not allowing even the slightest tremor in his voice as he held his hands out. He met Roman’s eyes, one last warning, before closing his own and focusing all his attention on dismantling the environment around him.

It was all illusory, from the faint scent of ozone lingering in the air to the cold stone around them. None of it was real, not the magic or the monsters, not when one thought about them logically. The Imagination was a limitless space, shaped and crafted by Creativity, and so any distance between them and the placement of an ‘exit’ was simply imaginary.

There was no logical reason to traverse an imaginary path, and so with one yank, Logan pulled and then folded the space between them and the exit, like crumpling a piece of paper to make two ends meet.

The landscape crinkled around them, bricks shattering and environments crashing together with discordant scraping. Roman would be feeling the effects of the hole in his work for a while, but there was a doorway ahead of them and the doubts were scattered and caught in the folds and tears Logic had created.

“Move,” Logan said through gritted teeth, and Roman staggered through the exit, Patton hot on his tail. He stepped through as well, the door slamming shut on its own behind him. His presence wouldn’t be tolerated in the realm for a good long while after this.

He beckoned Roman over, shoving away the guilt he felt at the other Side’s pained grimace. If his power had just held long enough for the Imagination’s effects to be wiped from Anxiety as well--

The wound pulsed once, as though to announce its stubborn survival. It was glowing a painful violet, the injury resembling nothing more than a slowly expanding Lichtenburg figure.

Logan’s knuckles went white as he looked down at it. He hadn’t even managed to make the injury into something real, something more manageable to treat.

He reached out, grasping again for that sense of unreality, of rejection, and Roman pulled away, backing up.

“No more,” he said firmly, his voice a sharp contrast to the shaking of his arms. Logan felt that familiar guilt threaten to flood for a moment, before-- “Specs, you’re about to pass out. You used too much.”

He blinked, glancing down at his hand. It was shaking, too. He’d overtaxed himself, been too involved in the previous daydream to shut it down without any backlash.

Logic shouldn’t have been too involved in anything. He clenched his fist, abruptly furious with himself.

“Whatever that witch’s calamitous curse caused, it’s spreading slowly for now,” Roman announced, still seeming almost skittish with Anxiety in his arms. “We have yet time to uncover the truth.”

Patton pressed the back of his hand against Anxiety’s forehead, hissing sympathetically. “He’s burning up. I don’t know about curing curses, but-- we can at least help with this.”

They all had memories of Thomas’s parents coaxing him through fevers and flus, but Patton was the best at actually following that example. He directed Roman to the couch, flitted back and forth between the kitchen and the living room with all the classic illness aids.

“This is a spell-based sickness. There’s no reason to believe that this illness will function similarly to Thomas’s past experiences,” Logan started, and then was promptly cut off by Anxiety jerking halfway up off the couch, twisting, and vomiting into the small trash can Patton had just brought out. “... I stand corrected.”

His voice seemed to drag Anxiety’s attention from his retching, his head bobbing up to look around.

He stared out at them with bleary eyes for a heartbeat, all of them quiet and frozen and waiting, and then he slumped back down into both the couch cushions and unconsciousness. A mutual breath of relief went around the room.

“So, are we… going to talk about it?” Patton asked, as though half-dreading the answer.

“Talk about what?” Roman snapped sarcastically, crossing his arms. “The fact that apparently our dear draconic companion has been none other than Anxiety, the scourge on our home, the blight on our fields, the bane of Thomas’s existence, this entire time?”

“We don’t own any fields,” Logan interjected.

“Well, if we did, the guy would probably blight them! He’s a-- a blighter!” Roman replied, increasingly higher in pitch. “This is probably some kind of trick, a foul villainous plot for some greater purpose we don’t understand yet. Anxiety can’t possibly be— have been—!”

“Talking shit?” A familiar drawl rang out, a dark figure appearing on the stairs between one blink and the next and making them all jump. “I thought I heard someone say-- Anxiety?”

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone looked between the two identical figures in the room.

“Well,” the Anxiety that was clearly actually Deceit said, glancing over the three of them, “I don’t suppose I could convince you that he’s the fake one? … No? What a shame.”

He lifted his shoulders from Virgil’s perpetual slouch easily, shedding his disguise in favor of his usual attire. Several more puzzle pieces clicked into place.

“You were the one who appeared when we introduced Puff to Thomas,” Logan said, cutting off the startled exclamations from the others. “And just now-- you returned from appearing to Thomas, didn’t you? As Anxiety, not yourself.”

Deceit rolled his eyes, adjusting his cufflinks absently. “Yes, well, someone had to do his job while he was… preoccupied. Or were you all so remiss as to not notice the decline that comes with a complete absence of Anxiety?”

They all bristled in unison. “All we’ve been doing as of late is trying to figure out why Thomas has been struggling recently,” Logan replied stiffly. “We cannot jump to conclusions based on the seemingly random reticence of one Side.”

“Oh, but now you know it’s not random at all, don’t you?” Deceit purred, stepping down the stairs one by one. “After all, Occam’s Razor has never proved to be true before.”

“You’re the one who’s slithering around impersonating other Sides!” Roman cut in with a sharp accusation. “How do we know you’re not the reason dear Thomas has been acting off?”

Deceit’s lip curled, displaying a curved fang. “I haven’t been the only reason Thomas hasn’t fallen apart entirely! But if you’d really like to cast blame, I’m happy to inform all three of you that this is your fault.”

“Our fault?” Roman and Patton’s voices overlapped, one outraged and the other alarmed. Logan frowned, smoothing down his tie absently.

“Are you speaking under false pretenses again? Only moments ago, you were claiming that Anxiety’s… disappearance was the source of Thomas’s recent struggle.”

Deceit’s gloves crinkled with the force of his grip on the banister. “You three are the ones who drove Anxiety to believe that he was superfluous, to the point that he decided somehow trapping himself in the form of a— a pet was better than spending another moment as himself in your presence,” he spat, each word furious and bitter.

There was a tense pause, and Deceit visibly reeled in his anger with a deep breath. “I refuse to spend any longer debating sins with you. If you’ll hand over Anxiety—,”

“No!” Logan startled himself with the sharp response, but Roman and Patton alike had echoed it. They exchanged looks, all of them struggling for a moment to put it to words.

Finally, Patton turned to where Deceit was staring at them with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know why Anxiety chose to— chose this, but I do know that he got hurt trying to protect us. And if it really is our fault-- ...Well, it wouldn’t be right either way, making you or him deal with this alone.”

“And that’s assuming you even have the tools to deal with it,” Logan added, earning himself an irritated glare from the Dark Side. “That was not a slight against you. To elaborate on my meaning, Roman’s experience with the realm and the perpetrator behind the injury could be invaluable in treating it. It would be remiss for us to not offer aid.”

There was a beat, and Roman looked up belatedly from Anxiety, his face pale and eyes distant. “Right,” he said, and then stronger, “Right. We’ll help Anxiety overcome this curse, and then speak with him ourselves on the matter of blame.”

Deceit looked between the three of them assessingly, gaze occasionally flickering down to where Anxiety lay. “I could handle this perfectly well,” he snapped, “but fine. However. If you worsen his condition and force me to continue this ridiculous charade… you will all certainly enjoy the consequences.”

He let the threat sit in the air ominously. Logan thought his forced disdain was a rather strange way to express protectiveness over Anxiety’s well-being, but to be frank, Deceit’s motives could be difficult for him to parse on a good day.

“Deceit,” Patton called before the other Side could sink out. “You’re welcome to come check on Anxiety whenever you’d like. I… I just wanted you to know.”

Deceit cast a glance back at Anxiety, unreadable, and sank out without another word.

—-

Half an hour after Deceit’s revelations, Anxiety woke up.

They hadn’t noticed at first. Patton had been in the kitchen, making enough soup to feed a small army, and Logan and Roman had been preoccupied with bickering, trying to piece together a timeline.

“—can’t be certain that any of the appearances prior to Puff’s introduction to Thomas were Deceit. Anxiety did not withdraw entirely until after that event,” Logan was saying, sharpening his tone to keep Roman from interrupting for the sixth time.

“But the things he said, it has to have been Deceit,” Roman retorted again. “Perhaps this has been going on for months, all part of a plot to replace Anxiety!”

“And do what? Thomas actively ignores Anxiety as often as possible,” Logan stated, the fact making something in his stomach twist oddly. “It would be pointless for Deceit to replace someone with little to no influence.”

“Who knows how the minds of Dark Sides work?” Roman scoffed, and then glanced over Logan’s shoulder and stood. Logan turned to watch him adjust the blankets that had shuffled part ways off of Anxiety.

Roman paused, and then leaned in slightly. “The curse mark—,” he started, and then was cut off by two and a half blankets being tossed directly at his face.

Anxiety scrambled off of the couch with surprising speed for someone who clearly could barely feel any of their limbs. His eyes were wide with unmistakable terror, pupils slit, and Logan lifted his hands non-aggressively.

“Anxiety, calm down,” he started, and Anxiety shot off towards the stairs with frantic and unsteady steps. From this angle, Logan could see the way the wound left from the curse was pulsing and expanding, and felt his own jolt of fear.

Patton rushed out of the kitchen just in time to see Anxiety overshoot and slam into the wall beside the stairs, bouncing off without a sound and struggling to regain his momentum like an animal mindlessly fleeing for its life.

“Patton, grab him before he hurts himself even further!” Logan called, and Patton hurriedly half-tackled the Side, pinning his arms and lifting him up.

Anxiety keened, voice warping into that double tone, and then kicked out against the wall, nearly toppling the both of them. By now, Roman had freed himself, and he jumped to Patton’s side to lend a steadying arm.

Logan hurried forward, careful to stay out of range of Anxiety’s still-kicking legs.

“Anxiety. Anxiety, can you hear me? You need to breathe deeply now, please follow this pattern,” he tried to count steadily, even as Anxiety stared right through him and made awful, gut-wrenching whimpers. His eyeshadow was streaked down the sides of his face like inky tear tracks. “3, 4, 5– Please, Anxiety, we’re not trying to hurt you.”

“It feels like it’s growing,” Patton whispered, Anxiety’s back still pressed to him. Roman pushed the neckline of the other Side’s hoodie aside, and swore at the dark, angular tendrils that were creeping up to his shoulder blades.

“We need him to calm down,” Logan said, but there wasn’t a single soothing method that would work if the person was too far gone to even sense him. “I don’t—,”

“Okay. Okay, I’m— I’m going to calm him down,” Patton said firmly, and then stepped back from the other two and maneuvered Anxiety so he was facing Patton. Logan recognized what Patton was attempting only a moment before Anxiety was pulled into a firm, encircling hug.

Patton’s ability to share positive emotions through physical contact— once jokingly dubbed a ‘drug hug’ by Roman— hadn’t been used frequently since they were all significantly younger. Nowadays, with Logic clearly not needing emotions and Creativity too prideful to ask for one, Patton mostly only used the ability accidentally— slipping up when he was hugging someone while too excited or happy.

Since switching over to this half of the Mindscape, Anxiety had never been exposed to this particular ability. The other Side twitched in Patton’s grasp for a moment, tail thrashing, holding out far longer than Logan expected before slowly melting into the embrace. When Patton finally pulled away, Anxiety was blinking dazedly but seemed considerably more aware of his surroundings.

“His back,” Logan started, and then stopped short.

The wound’s unnatural spread had stopped, the previous panicked pulsing of it reduced to a slow, muted metronome.

“His— Is it based on his heart rate?” Logan asked, bewildered and hating it. “It can’t be consciousness, he’s conscious now and the growth has stopped entirely, but it hadn’t receded at all earlier—,”

“Fear,” Roman said, his mouth set grimly. “A curse for Anxiety that feeds on fear. That’s exactly the kind of cruel irony that the Dragonwitch loves.”

Patton tightened his grip on Anxiety’s hand, his face wrinkled with worry. After a moment, Anxiety squeezed his hand back, still seeming a little distant from the actual conversation.

Logan knew from experience that getting one of those hugs at full power could feel like the emotional equivalent of being dropped into cold water unexpectedly-- it was a shock to the system, one that took a while to adjust to. He wouldn’t be surprised if Anxiety’s nonverbal state lingered for a while longer.

“Then… how do we fix it?” Patton asked. “Do we need him to… stop being afraid for real? Can we do that?”

Logan was quiet, thinking about how fearful Anxiety had looked for the brief moments he was fully aware around them. Roman looked away, and then shook his head.

“I need to return to the Imagination to check on something,” he announced, gaze distant. “I should… probably begin restructuring it, as well.”

Logan hid a wince. “I apologize for being so rough on the realm,” he said, remembering the way Roman had shaken with strain.

Roman waved it off. “You did what you had to, to get us all out. More useful than… well, consider yourself magnanimously forgiven.”

With a smile that seemed a pale facsimile of his normal one, he departed.

Logan turned to Patton, who looked a little wobbly at the knees. “We will be able to help him eventually, we just need more time to investigate,” he said as gently as he could, leading them both back to the couch. “Until then, we can take shifts to look after him.”

Patton curled his free hand around Logan’s, searching his gaze as though seeking some kind of solution. “We’ll figure this out together, right?”

“Right.”

#sanders sides #tsits #tiny dragon virgil #this one goes out to everyone who thought this fic was abandoned: i lived bitch <3 #the shapes in the silence #my writing #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts janus #ts virgil #writing #i turned virgil into the dragon equivalent of a catboy #because its my fic and i choose the self indulgent nonsense

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starshiningsirius · 3 years

Text

Like old times (Yandere Azul x reader)

@bryzie27 - i like what you did with overblot leona. could you do something similar with overblot azul?

Not sure what you mean like the chase scene? The dynamics of Octanivelle's structure still aren't quite clear to me if they can go out in the water but I'll try!

I FORGOT THE GIF IS FROM @flowerofthemoonworld !

Let's give the octopus some love!

"Hey, your Azul right?"

He lifted his head to look at who had spoken to him. It was a mermaid with a strange speckled tail that added to her beauty. She seemed to be more of the reserved type. Her hair had two streaks of the same color on either side of her face and the rest was all one color. Her eyes shimmered radiantly.

He could feel a rush of heat claim his entire face.

"Here." She handed him his books.

"W -why are you doing this?" The young octopus sniffled.

He wasn't expecting this, not with the way everyone else treated him. It didn't make any sense why you'd treat him kindly. A freakish eight legged merman who couldn't swim correctly.

"It's the right thing to do, Azul. I couldn't just swim away with you like this. It'd be immoral."

From that first encounter on forward they became friends. She helped him walk and swim a bit better considering he found it embarrassing. She didn't even have tentacles yet she instructed him so well.. Maybe he inked once or twice, a few times around her on accident, he swears! It didn't matter she was fine with it. She didn't mind one bit who he was.

Even when they went to the Atlantica Museum she stayed by his side and explored it with him. He was a bit slow considering his physique was on the chubby side so he wasn't fast. It still didn't matter, for some odd reason she stayed with him. In the picture commemorating the trip he held her hand since he was a bit self conscious about his picture being taken.

Y/n couldn't help but find it adorable. Everything about Azul wasn't at all strange to her it only made her more curious to get to know him. He would always apologize for any small thing he did wrong. She would always say, "It's fine." as if he did nothing. Her smile always seemed to brighten Azul's darkest days.

She'd visit him in his family restaurant in which his mother and father always welcomed his first friend. They were overjoyed. She saw him gorging himself on the plate of food in front of him compared to her smaller portion. She couldn't help but to stare, it made her understand why he was on the chubby side. Then he looked at her sauce around his mouth and she couldn't help but smile at him with laughter filling the area. He was embarrassed blushing a shade of red and he felt a bit ashamed.

"Azulie, you're absolutely adorable!" She said through her laughter.

It was one of his most fondest memories he ever had with her, but all good things had to come to an end.

Eventually she had to depart from the northern seas to the far southern ones. She had to leave Azul behind. She had given him a hug it was full of so much warmth of which he had never felt before and it made his heart race twice as fast. Both parents of the children found it endearing their children had found a friend.

. . .

And that was that. Time passed and he eventually became Azul Ashengrotto the dorm leader of Octanivelle who could grant any wish just as the sea witch. He could never ever forget the one person he was so fond of though. It never left him every time he wrote down a contract he could remember a time where he truly did care for someone.

The new year at Night Raven was his second year while a new group of first years came entering the school. He had ordered Jade to get information on each of them and when he went through the long list of students that had been sorted into Octanivelle while in his office. He immediately crossed one oh so familiar.

Y/n L/n.

He couldn't believe his eyes. He put the sheet of paper down and opened one of his drawers in the desk that showed him and her back then. He never altered this photo as he did countless others. She accepted him for who he was and that was well enough a reason for him to admire her.

He automatically called upon Jade as Floyd would have probably scared the poor girl. He told him to fetch her immediately.

When he finally did see her for the first time in years he was astounded at how you changed so little but so much at the same time. You had grown taller and your eyes still sparkled just as they always did. You had the same two streaks on either side of your hair which had grown a few inches he might add.

Jade had left to do other tasks he was assigned but Azul couldn't care less seeing as he had his childhood friend and sweetheart in front of him.

"Azulie, that really is you huh?" Your voice had matured but was more timid just like the very first time they met. Of course it was so long ago that they're more like strangers now. That nickname though, it's been a long time since he's heard it.

"Yes, I've changed quite a bit." He was a little nervous though he'd never admit it his voice slightly betrayed him and his face had a little red tint. He tried pushing up his glasses to shield it from her eyes but it was a futile attempt. He heard her chuckle that made his heart race like never before.

"You haven't changed fully as your still the most adorable by far." She said.

That made his face blossom as red as a rose in the rose maze of Heartsbyul. Heat was exerting itself from his still body that he sat in the chair from.

From that moment on he would keep a watchful eye on her. He would always try his best when she was around and get any info on anything going on pertaining to her.

She had met Floyd and Jade before who Azul wasn't too fond of at first, but she reccomended he became friends with them back then since it wasn't everyday someone didn't come up to tease him and noticed his accomplishments. Of course it was only because of Azul that they met again at Night Raven. The first time she met Jade was when he first brought her to see Azul in his office. He looked familiar to her and she mentioned it to him, and they both shared their fondest memories on the way. She met Floyd a little later on in the Mostro Lounge as he had taken her order and he noticed she had come in a lot just to see Azul. Jade had to explain the situation that she wasn't required to pay for any food she ate there because of an order Azul had given out.

Azul would spend some time out of the day to just hang out with you if he wasn't always busy with the lounge. It was always a joy to be with you, it reminded him of when you were both younger. He thought back to those days every night and day that you had still never left his mind. The thought of you leaving again made him lose his sense of reason and fall deeper in his sweet obsession.

He had started to act different you noticed. He had become a bit more invasive of your personal space in which you remember that only happened when he was nervous at least you thought he grew out of it.

Jade and Floyd began to direct you to the Lounge like your life was there and no where else. It'd only be a matter of time before Azul was informed by Jade of his sweetheart's newest infatuation.

Vil happened to catch your attention. It led Azul to be green with envy. He knew the dorm leader of Pomeifore had complimented her one day and it was enough to send her falling head over heels. He had so many followers it made no sense why he had to take something else Azul had wanted for the longest time. With Vil's beauty he only began to question his own.

He had to come up with a solution just as he had done for those bullies. He just couldn't lose Y/n again. Not if he had any say in it.

After hours of pondering in his office sinking his nails into his desk the answer happened to be right behind him. The vault that was situated behind his desk held the many contracts he had collected.

Maybe if he could impress her she wouldn't see him as that stupid, clumsy octopus he once was. All these different magic spells that he obtained from those fools from the exams on land in Night Raven and those idiots who swam under the sea.

That's when his plan fell apart. Y/n avoided him all of a sudden. Mainly having spent time with those troublesome first years he sent to the museum to collect one of the last remnants of his past.

He didn't have time to keep thinking about Y/n at the moment which irritated him quite a bit. One thing led to another and now he was out here trying to negotiate with the arrogant and prideful dorm head of Savanclaw. As soon as he destroyed them all hope was lost.

He was taunting him, but his next few words really took him over the top in terms of a sadistic being.

"You know, one of your little sea friends really wanted to believe you were nice. We just had to show her the real Azul Ashengrotto." Leona had smirked turning his head to the side, beyond the corner of the tunnel his darling angelfish had appeared. Disbelief in her eyes, she couldn't even meet his eyes.

That's when everyone else had arrived, but the deed was already done. He had lost everything and his angelfish had seen him as a weak being, the same stupid clumsy octopus he hated being.

They took her from his side. He had her in his grasp and they stole her. He had lost it.

His newborn and unimaginable power were apparent now. He just had to get it all back. Not even Floyd or Jade wanted to help him either.

He reminded himself of you holding your pen ready to fire another offensive attack. His anger swelled inside him where he could tap into more power.

"GIVE HER BACK TO ME! GIVE ME BACK WHAT YOU TOOK! "

A large swarm of harsh black wind had overwhelmed the group. She still managed to stand but when the dust cleared she saw all of them had collapsed unconscious. Even the prefect who was thrown back the farthest had their head hit the tunnel, it didn't look like she was breathing from here though.

She took a look back at Azul and suddenly she felt her feet carrying her away from the scene, having Azul call out to her from behind.

* * *

It's been a while since she had to swim that fast. Her tail fin was starting to hurt from the constant movement. She wanted to take a break, a never ending nightmare she pleaded in her head to be over.

That was until she heard him calling for her.

"Oh Angelfish! You really have nothing to fear! Come out I promise I won't hurt you!" He said in a sing songy voice.

She was hiding behind a large boulder on the sea floor near a small coral reef.

"Am I not enough anymore?! I'LL DO ANYTHING TO PROVE IT! I'M NOT THE SAME AS BEFORE, YOU DON'T HAVE TO LOOK AFTER ME! " The tone of voice he had scared her even more so now that she was alone.

"I'm not, ... I'm not that stupid clumsy little octopus anymore." He sounded as if he were about to cry, it pulled at her heartstrings a bit and she thought she could convince him to calm down in this state.

"Azulie I never-"

"There you are! " He said with glee and delight in his tone, that never would have made you think he was sad in the first place.

He successfully guilt tripped her into coming out of hiding. Using his tentacles he pulled her by the tail toward him careful to avoid giving her any injuries. He grasped her in his arms feeling himself relax a bit, at the fact he had her in his grasp once again. She felt warm just as she did all those years ago for him.

He clasped her hands together with his. A deranged smile on his face as he stared into the soul of his adorable little angelfish who shivered under such an intense gaze radiating his madness.

"We'll be together again! Just like old times! Except this time I'm all powerful and no one will be able to steal what's mine!"

Masterlist

#twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #floyd leech

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

Prove Me Wrong, Darling

who doesn't love a bit of enemies to lovers? :)

You and Agatha had never gotten along. From your perspective, it was due to a conflict of interest. Whereas if you asked her, she'd likely say it was a conflict of intelligence, or something else insulting along those lines. Though the issue you had with the fellow witch wasn't her attitude, rather her underestimation of your powers. It'd started with her massacre of the Coven, when she'd attempted to end your life alongside the others. But to her surprise, you'd been strong enough to defend yourself and escape. Since then, there'd been several instances where your paths had crossed, and you hadn't let her live down the failure yet.

This particular occasion was different, however, as Agatha had asked you for help.

It'd taken everything in you not to immediately mock her. But you knew that she'd leave without further explanation if she felt ridiculed, and you were just dying to know what had made her stoop to your level. So, you'd swallowed your pride and attentively listened to her proposal. It'd mostly featured the repeated phrases "immense power" and "huge source of energy," and even a confession that she was baffled by the cause, which only intrigued you further.

Although you weren't too interested in accumulating anymore power, the opportunity to be on level ground with Agatha was too good to pass on. You confessed this to her upon accepting the invitation, which resulted in an unimpressed eye roll. Regardless of her annoyance, you left that same day, arriving in the least expected location. A quaint town in New Jersey.

"Well," You landed behind Agatha in the middle of a road, surveying the picturesque, colourless neighbourhood. "isn't this lovely."

She pursed her lips, looking round similarly perplexed. "Lovely?" She echoed. "This is like every outdated suburban stereotype rolled into one. Like some kind of picture-perfect movie set."

Her condescending comment jogged a memory. "That's what I was thinking of!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands enthusiastically. "Did you ever watch that sitcom- from the 50s? The Dick Van Dyke Show?"

"From the title alone I'm glad I didn't."

"Seriously, it's practically the same setting." You moved to stand directly in front, forcing her to look at you.

"So, what you're saying is someone used this insane amount of power just to recreate their favourite TV show?" She quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your theory.

"Well, wouldn't you?"

"No."

"Anyway." You glanced down at the rather eye-catching ensemble Agatha was currently wearing, then at your comparably casual yet modern clothes. "This isn't going to work." With a wave of your hand, the jeans and jumper combo was replaced by a more period accurate pencil skirt and blouse. Satisfied, you looked up at her expectantly.

Taking it as a challenge, she copied the gesture, managing to both create a new dress and fix up her hair. She smirked, enjoying the chance to show off her superior abilities.

"It's not a competition." You huffed.

She placed a hand on your arm fake comfortingly. "Of course not, dear."

The contact caused you to shiver slightly. It felt as though her touch ignited sparks, though the sensation wasn't exactly unpleasant. Quite the opposite, in fact. But indulging in it didn't feel right either, so you were grateful when Agatha removed her hand.

Her face dropped, eyebrows furrowing. Slowly, she swivelled round to point at a house. "There. Can you feel it?"

Following her outstretched finger, you tuned into the energy, focusing specifically on the house. "Mhm." Unsurprisingly, Agatha was right. An unfamiliar energy was being emitted from whoever was inside. You tried to pinpoint what kind of magic the user possessed, but found no trace of any familiar type. "Shall we go meet the neighbours, then?"

"You read my mind." She muttered, narrowing her eyes and offering an arm without so much as sparing a glance in your direction.

You hesitated, taken aback by the kind gesture. It hadn't dawned on you until then that an incredibly powerful being was residing little over 10 metres away, and that you were both about to willingly walk into their house. Looping your arm with hers created a naïve sense of safety.

Neither spoke as you approached the house with faux confidence, only pausing for Agatha to summon a potted plant. A house warming gift, you guessed. The simple gesture of goodwill brought a smile to your face.

"I didn't expect you to be such a considerate neighbour." You whispered.

"Gotta make a good first impression." She reached out to knock against the door.

---

You sighed. Barely an hour spent in this black and white world and you were already bored. Everything was so tiresomely perfect, so normal that you questioned how you'd ever suffered through those terrible old sitcoms in the first place. Sitting in Wanda's living room, the only entertainment was your partner in crime Agatha, or Agnes, as you ought to say.

She was currently flipping through a magazine, tracing the page with her index finger and reading aloud to help Wanda prepare for her anniversary.

"Any notable date you can remember? Special occasion?" She asked the redhead. "You know, to remind him of good times." She winked suggestively, briefly glancing at you with an expression that only you could decipher. She was enjoying flustering Wanda a little too much.

"Oh...I don't know." She trailed off, untrustworthy eyes darting around the room. "Do you two have any memorable date? Maybe I could steal some ideas."

Had the sitcom spell effected you, this would've been the ironic moment in which you spat out whatever drink was currently in your mouth. Fortunately though, you'd declined the offer of tea earlier, and opened your mouth to correct her.

Agatha beat you to it by nudging you with her elbow. "Oh don't we just?" She laughed deeply until you joined in with a forced chuckle.

Deciding to join in with her game, you hummed thoughtfully. "What about that picnic we had? In Salem, remember?" Judging by the way her eyes flashed dangerously, she knew you were referring to that dreadful night with the Coven, serving as revenge for the sudden change in relationship status. "Agnes decided the best time to go on a date would be at night- and in the middle of forest of all places!"

Agnes threw back her head in exaggerated laughter. "Oh hush! I thought it'd be romantic. Besides, you're the one who got us completely lost, dear." She continued, further adding depth to the altered anecdote. "And I'd say it went pretty well regardless." She turned to whisper conspiratorially to Wanda. "So I'll spare you the dirty details."

The three of you fell into easy laughter, only interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone. "If you'll excuse me." Wanda stood up to answer. "That's probably Vis."

You took the distraction as respite from forcing such an overly hospitable smile, finding that your cheeks were already aching. For the last few minutes, you'd been aware of a pair of eyes watching you closely, and finally turned to face the witch sitting next to you.

"What?"

Agatha said nothing, her invasive eyes never leaving yours as she took a sip of her drink. You could practically see the gears turning in her head as she thought something through, and dreaded to wonder what she was about to say.

Reaching some form of a conclusion, she leant forward to place her drink down on the table. "Kiss me." She murmured through clenched teeth, momentarily glancing at Wanda, who's back was turned.

"Excuse me?" Out of all the possible things she could've said, this request seemed the least plausible in your mind.

"When Wanda turns round she should see us-" Agatha gestured her hand back and forth as if vocalising what she was implying was too sinful to put into words. Her vagueness was met by your blank stare. "Y'know?"

"No?" You shook your head, unable to comprehend why she'd ask such a thing, untrusting your interpretation of her suggestion.

"Just-" Agatha raised her hands to grasp your face. Hesitated. Then threw them back down into her lap and sighed in frustration. The fact she was struggling to initiate contact was laughable, though eventually you took pity on her.

Leaning forward, you kept your eyes open to watch for Agatha's reaction. You found it amusing that upon realising what you were trying to do, her eyes shut impossibly fast. Satisfied that she was consenting, you raised one hand to cup her cheek and continued to chase after her lips. The kiss was chaste and affectionately mundane, exactly at it should be.

In response, she grabbed your knees and pulled you closer, nipping at your bottom lip. Clearly Agatha wasn't on the same wavelength as you. Her hands shifted further up to your thighs, bringing a startling heat to the kiss. You gasped, virtually melting at her touch. You wanted this. One hand slid to rest on her shoulder. But it wasn't the time or place. You gently pushed against her.

Agatha pulled away, breathless. She scanned your face with pupils blown wide and mouth slightly agape like she'd just reached some new revelation. You were certain your expression mirrored hers.

Wanda cleared her throat somewhere in the distance.

"Gosh, Wanda I'm sorry." Agnes' cheerful voice reappeared as she addressed the redhead without breaking your intense shared eye contact. "But I think we ought to be heading home now." She said unabashedly. Like you hadn't just been caught making out on the neighbour's couch.

"Of course." You could hear the understanding smile in her voice, the slight awkwardness from intruding. "It's been lovely meeting you both."

Summoning an ounce of brainpower, you turned to Wanda. "And you. Feel free to keep the magazine." Then tugged Agatha up and began dragging her toward the front door. For once in her life she went willingly, allowing herself to be pulled along, calling out a last minute farewell to Wanda.

Upon reaching the end of the garden, Agatha wordlessly took the lead. Staying true to her fabricated story, she set a determined course for the house to the right, waltzing up as if she owned the place. A quick flourish of your fingers and the lock was rendered useless. Now the house was yours.

As soon as the door shut behind you, she turned on her heel and pushed you against it. Her mouth quickly sought out yours with a desperation only appropriate in private. Had you known Agatha was this good of a kisser, you would've done this ages ago, but elected not to vocalise the praise knowing she'd never let you live it down. You felt her smirk against your lips, and briefly wondered if she'd somehow infiltrated your mind. You wouldn't put it past her.

As she began trailing kisses down your neck, any concern about the invasion of privacy became inconsequential. You sighed. She rewarded the sound with a nip at your throat. Due to the haze of lust clouding your better judgment, you didn't register the sound of footsteps until it was too late.

"Woah!" A man called from the top of the staircase, presumably the current previous resident of the house. Agatha froze, her lips still pressed up to your neck.

"If you two beautiful ladies hadn't already broken into my house, I would've happily invited you in." The man grinned obnoxiously, slowly continuing down the stairs.

Agatha disinterestedly waved her hand, incapacitating him. The sound of the stranger tumbling down the stairs caused her to let out a short, cruel cackle, before returning to bury her face in the crook of your neck.

"Not big on roommates?" You joked, sliding a hand up and down her back soothingly.

She nipped at your flesh, a little harder this time. "Trust me, he doesn't want to be here for what I'm about to do to you."

Already impatient, you decided to tease her in hopes it would speed things up. "You're all talk and no action, Harkness."

She all but growled as she returned to your lips. Without warning her hands squeezed your hips. "I don't think you're in the position to be insulting me, love."

"Then prove me wrong, darling."

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agnes x reader

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hillnerd · 3 years

Text

WAKING UP- CHAPTER 5

Rating M A03 ff.net [ Previous Chapter] [start at the beginning]

For thanks yous, chapter warnings and ‘what happened last chapter’ scroll to the end of this chapter :)

=======================================================

CHAPTER 5 - QUEEN OF CLUBS

Ginny didn’t have a very large room, and it felt even smaller as Hermione tried to ready herself to go to a club, of all places. She wasn’t the club ‘type.’ She couldn’t say for sure, as she’d never been to one, but what little familiarity she had made it sound awful. Loud noises, skimpily dressed, dancing as if she hadn’t a care in the world seemed… exhausting. And pointless. And dangerous! Fleur, Angelina and Ginny were trying on a myriad of dresses and asking for the group's approval. While the wireless played raucous tunes and the other girls giggled, Hermione spent her time packing and repacking her beaded bag.

The extension charm was still firmly in place. She hadn’t figured out a way to keep things more organized within it, though, so the canned goods she’d placed there kept falling over. She wasn’t going to forget food again, that she knew. She hadn’t located a new tent yet, but she needed to prioritize that soon. She had just finished repacking some of her clothes when she heard Ginny ask, “What are you doing?”

Hermione snapped the bag shut, not knowing how to explain her preparations in any way that made her seem of sound mind.

“Just wasn’t sure what to wear…” It wasn’t a complete lie. She wasn’t sure what fit her anymore.

“Well, you can never go wrong with a little black dress,” said Ginny pointing to a thin-strapped sundress Hermione hadn’t had reason to wear in well over a year.

She nodded and went to a corner, turning her front away from them as she changed into the dress. As she wiggled her jeans out from under the dress she noticed the other girls showed no similar discretion, happily throwing dresses off in the middle of the room.

Hermione gave a speculative look in the mirror, tugging a bit at the neckline of her sundress. It fit differently than before, bagging around her waist and chest in an unflattering way, and the straps would not stay in place.

“I can do alterations to dresses if anyone needs them,” said Fleur, grabbing a book from within her bag, discreetly catching Hermione’s eye. Arachne Salavarrieta’s Little Book of Sewing had a few good spells for altering clothing on the fly. All four of them looked over the text for just the right spells to take in, let out, and shorten dresses.

Ginny, still underage and unable to do magic, begged them “you’ve got to shorten my skirt once we’re there!”

“Why not have us do it now?” Angelina asked, propping up a magically enlarged hand mirror on the roll top desk.

“I have four older brothers downstairs,” Ginny said with a sour look.

“Why should that matter?”

“One of those gits will take the piss in front of Mum if I look remotely sexy. That is, if Mum doesn’t already notice all on her own. I don’t know! Either way, just help me with the hem at the club, please? I don’t want to be the only one there looking frumpy!”

“From-py?” Fleur asked.

“Unfashionable, old-fashioned, overly modest and drab,” Hermione provided, fairly certain the term had been liberally applied to herself over the years.

“You look far from from-py, but we will help with the skirt,” Fleur assured Ginny.

“And if any brother gives you shit at the club, we’ll hex them for good measure too,” Angelina added, bringing out a pair of curling tongs and prompting Ginny to sit in front of her.

Hermione pulled at her dress some more, not sure how much to alter it, and not sure if she wanted to bother. A pernicious guilt gnawed at her as she pulled the dress taut to her body. She should be doing something that mattered, not fretting over a dress. She should be in Australia. She hadn’t earned a rest, let alone a ‘fun time out.’ She’d taken no steps forward. She’d not found her parents’ location, she’d not earned money, she’d not even checked to see if her old childhood home was still standing.

“Hermione, is everything alright?” Fleur quietly asked, coming to stand beside her at the long mirror.

Hermione forced a smile onto her face.

“Oh you know me… I’m never sure what to do with fashion and all that. I’m more at ease in a library.”

Fleur gave her a searching look she’d seen before at Shell Cottage. It was a look that sought truth behind idle chit chat. It brought a sisterly sort of comfort that Hermione had not thought Fleur capable of a year ago. She had found the French woman to be condescending and too effortlessly beautiful to warrant any attempt at friendship. The war had given her an appreciation for Fleur, though. They were something akin to friends now.

“I just…” Hermione said in a low voice only Fleur could hear as the wireless yowled another rock anthem. “This feels so silly when there’s so much to do.”

“We’ve earned a bit of silly, do you not think so?”

“You all might have…”

“Hermione,” she said, putting a tentative hand around her shoulder. “You ‘ave done more than most anyone.”

“Since The Battle I’ve done nothing! Everyone is helping rebuild and all I’ve done is sleep! And my parents are still in Australia, and I’ve…I’ve done nothing to get them back.”

“Ron told us of your parents and the memories… Will you be needing any help?”

“No,” Hermione quickly insisted. “No. I just need to make a plan and get them back here. Once I have a plan then it will all be alright.”

“You are meaning to bring them back here in England… To the home you lived in before?”

Hermione nodded, and saw a look of concern wrinkle Fleur’s otherwise flawless brow.

“Hermione… Have you been to your home since the war ended?”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m planning on checking on it soon.”

“This is why I asked. You can not do that alone. Many Muggleborn homes were cursed after the war. Some are no longer standing,” said Fleur, her voice ringing with intensity despite the lyric tone.

Hermione was aware that many a Muggleborn home had been razed to the ground, but refused to believe the same could have happened to her childhood home.

“Even the Burrow needed much curse breaking,” she continued. “We do not know each other well, but I am happy to help you with this.”

“Oh you don’t have to!” Hermione said with a shake of her head.

“Oh poppyrot!” Fleur said with a dismissive wave of her hand. Hermione let out a long breath, her gratitude forcing her to not correct Fleur to the word ‘poppycock.’ “It is my pleasure!”

“You two alright?” asked Ginny giving the two a sidelong look as Angelina continued to curl her hair.

“We are,” Fleur said, looking to Hermione who confirmed this with a head nod. “Just helping out with fashion. It is a ritual we women do. The girls gather and dress and help one another to look more beautiful, while the men do nothing.”

“Maybe they shower,” Angelina added with a laugh, “but probably not. They never put in half the effort we do!”

“You see? It is the way of it,” Fleur said, giving Hermione a small squeeze and a meaningful look. “I can help whenever you like.”

“Thank you, Fleur…” she said with equal import. When the other girls looked at her with curiosity she continued, “I don’t have any of my usual things like makeup or hair products.”

“I have a ton of stuff in my bag,” Angelina offered.

“As do I. We girls help one another,” Fleur said, grabbing a comb and some bottles of French products Hermione didn’t recognize. She continued with the faintest whisper, “You can send a message or Patronus to me when you are ready to enter your old home.”

Words failing her, Hermione put a hand on Fleur’s and gave it a small squeeze. Fleur said nothing, but the warm smile she sent in the mirror reassured her that the French woman completely understood.

After an hour of sewing alterations, primping, squealing, and many changes of clothes by each of the ladies, they decided they were almost ready enough to leave.

“Oh! Jewelry! I forgot about that,” Ginny moaned, looking through her small box of earrings.

Angelina and Fleur were eager to help her, but Hermione wasn’t sure she could take another debate about fashion. She was grateful for the silly hour she’d gotten to spend with them, though. Despite her hair still being a bit wild and curly, Hermione had to admit she liked how she looked in the mirror. The black sundress fit her perfectly now. She almost looked like she had a figure again. Between the dress and the makeup, and a bit of product from Angelina to keep her hair from frizzing, she looked almost pretty. She felt a touch of excitement flurry in her stomach at the thought of looking nice in front of Ron. It almost made her forget how nervous she was to be out of the safety of the Burrow. She gripped her beaded bag close to her side.

“I’m going to wait with the boys, if that’s alright.”

The girls waved her off as they held different earrings beside Ginny’s face.

As Hermione stepped into the hallways she immediately ran into a thin, though sturdy, body and let out a small exclamation of alarm. She quickly muffled her sound when she saw it was only Harry.

“Are you all ready to go then?” he asked, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of Ginny behind the closing door.

“We’re almost all ready,” she said with a fond smile. “You know girls, it takes them forever.”

“You’re a girl too, according to Ron at least,” said Harry, giving her a wry grin. Harry was looking rather sharp in Muggle clothes that actually fit, and his hair was looking mysteriously untidy.

“Did you do something to your hair?”

“What?” he asked, putting a hand to the back of his hair and patting at it. “It doesn’t look bad, does it?”

“No,” she laughed, seeing the panic in his eyes. “Just not as wild as usual.”

“Yeah, well it took like four spells and I think they’re already wearing off.”

She studied his hair and could see one by one little hairs slowly moving into disarray, almost like someone had rubbed an invisible balloon against it.

“You’re trying to look extra nice for Ginny,” she teased. He frowned, but a blush began to form around his jaw. “Yeah, well, we’ve never gotten to properly go someplace together, have we? You did the same for Ron, right?”

He had her there.

“Speaking of, where is he?”

“Downstairs, I think,” he said, hand going to his hair again. “Is it looking bad again?”

“It’s looking more like it usually does, if that’s what you mean.” His face scrunched in disapproval. “Really, it looks fine. Your hair fits you best when you do nothing to it. You look perfectly nice.”

“You too,” he said with a glance at her, before heading towards the bathroom. “Ok, I’m going to try to spell this one more time.”

She knew it was a lost cause, but didn’t have the heart to tell him as he eagerly tried to preen.

As she reached the bottom steps of the stairs, she could hear the low rumble of men’s voices.

“They’re taking ages,” Charlie sighed. “I don’t see why it takes them so long.”

“Women wear more?” said George.

“Harry’s hair has taken almost as long,” Lee said with a snort.

Hermione looked around the corner and saw the men all sprawled around the room, shoes up on tables and couch arms in a way they’d never dare if Mrs Weasley were in the room.

While everyone lightheartedly bantered with one another, in the corner sat Ron. His brow was creased as he silently played chess with Lee. He looked haggard, and for the eleventh time that evening, Hermione wished they weren’t going out. She’d much rather spend the evening wrapped in Ron’s arms, as she had that afternoon.

Her nerves had frayed at the thought of sleeping beside him, worried he would catch her in a nightmare. Silencing spell in place, she had feigned grumpy tiredness when he asked her questions. There had been no need to worry, though. Cuddled up to him she fell asleep as surely as one did on sleeping draughts, and somehow her nightmares were kept entirely at bay. It was the best sleep she’d had in months. The only thing that could have improved it was waking up beside Ron. He’d been gone when she’d woken, with no one knowing where he was. He’d come back from the village looking worn out giving excuses of ‘getting supplies’ which didn’t hold up to real scrutiny, when she thought of the timeline he gave. Ron Weasley was up to something, she just didn’t know what.

As if her thoughts drew him to her, Ron’s eyes rose and met hers.

The furrow in his brow smoothed, his scowling expression softened, and a boyish smile of his tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Who’s winning?” she asked, approaching the chess board.

“Ron was, but I think my luck’s about to change,” said Lee, a few of the men joining him in laughter and elbowing Ron, seeing his rather besotted look. Usually he’d turn beet red and curse at them, but his face remained mostly impassive as he met her eyes and smiled. The only sign of his discomfort was his ears going a tiny bit flush.

“Check mate,” said Ron, moving his bishop across the board, and rising from his seat.

“No it’s not, is it?” Lee asked, looking at the board. “Damn!”

Ron gave the lot a two fingered salute and led her from the living room to the kitchen, where his mother was doing some tidying and listening to the radio.

“I wasn’t sure about the dress,” she mumbled. Ron’s eyes traveled down her and she suppressed the urge to readjust her neckline, though she wasn’t sure in what direction.

“Well you look amazing in it,” he said, looking her in the eye and making her stomach do a tsukahara flip.

“Thank you,” she managed. A pleasurable rush of nerves ran up her spine. Despite looking very tired, he looked handsome. He was wearing an untucked dress shirt she’d not seen before, with the sleeves rolled up his arms in a way that made the nerves in her spine turn to jolts. Given the darker color scheme of it, she assumed it was a hand-me-down from Bill. She quickly realized all of him was looking rather polished, with the exception of his beat up boots. She wasn’t sure what to say to him. He was so sensitive about clothes, and the last thing she wanted was to cause additional stress on him, but she also knew he was a bit insecure and it might be nice to compliment his appearance.

“So how long until the rest of the girls are ready?” he asked.

Well there went that opportunity.

“Soon, I think. They just had to pick out earrings for Ginny,” she said looking up into face. His eyes looked so weary. “Are you doing well?”

“Course,” he grunted, immediately turning from her. “Mum, do you need help with that?”

Mrs Weasley turned from the dishes and assured him she didn’t. Despite the assurance, he started putting dishes in the cabinets. He didn’t spare her another look, not when the rest of the girls came down the stairs some ten minutes later, and not when they gathered on the edge of the property.

“Before we go,” George announced, beginning to hand each of them a playing card, “here is a Muggle I.D. for each of you.”

“Why do we need an I.D?” Ginny asked, inspecting the playing card in the waning light of the sunset.

“Because they check to see if you’re old enough to drink at clubs and such and can’t just put up an age line,” answered Bill.

“Why didn’t you transfigure these already?” asked Hermione, looking at her playing card, the Queen of Clubs.

“I’d have to know what Muggle I.D.s look like to do that. This just has a spell to register as an I.D. to Muggles. Pretty clever, if I do say so,” George said, smiling to them all as he finished handing out the cards. “Getting the dates right was tricky. Just make sure you say your birthday was in 79 or earlier. The card will match up with whatever date you say.”

“Where are we apparating to, George?” asked Angelina.

“My hotel room’ll do,” he answered.

Hermione felt Ron unexpectedly stiffen beside her.

“Everyone but Harry, Ginny, Hermione and Fleur knows where to go. So you all can pair up and side-along there. Here, Gin, come with me,” said George, waving Ginny over.

Ron made as if to grab Ginny back, but George had quickly disappeared with her. One by one they all disapparated, leaving her and a distracted Ron staring at the space George had just occupied.

Ron licked his dry lips and scrunched his brow in determination. “Right… Okay then, I guess we better go.”

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to,” she said, gently putting her hand in his. “We could just stay in, you and me.”

His shoulders slumped. “Merlin, I wish I could take you up on that.”

“Why don’t you?” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve been dreading going out.”

“You too?” “I packed and repacked my bag, just in case,” she said, giving the beaded bag a small shake that made its contents give a crash. “Damn. That’s probably the books again. I really need to find a way to make things stay in place!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” he said with a fond look on his face. “But we should go. It’ll be good to get out, plus with G— nevermind.”

“Plus what?”

“Look, I really want to tell you, but I’m just not up for it all right now.” Her face must have given away how frustrating she found that. “I will, I swear I will! Just not tonight. Let’s just— let’s just pretend we’re okay and go out and try to enjoy ourselves.”

It went against every instinct in her body to agree to wait to know something, but she nodded her acquiescence. His large hand moved to her back and the tight feeling of being compressed overtook her as he Apparated them to George’s hotel room.

In moments they reached their destination and the feeling of her breath being stolen didn’t stop, for Ron’s fingers grazed her side as he took a pace back from her.

When they arrived they received a good amount of teasing for taking their time to arrive, heavily implying the two had been snogging. Neither teen corrected them. As everyone made small talk, Ron was completely silent and looked about the room with seeming purpose. He had shown immense concern about George right before they left, had that intense conversation with him earlier, and she had to admit George smelt like a bar when he arrived and looked like he might have been sleeping on the floor of one. She had no idea what Ron was looking for, except perhaps empty bottles. The room was sparse, and only a tray of food, and a small bag in the corner showing any signs someone had been living there.

No one seemed to notice his actions except George who fixed him with a glare when no one was looking. Ron looked far from sheepish, and instead stood tall and locked eyes with his brother.

“Let’s get going. It’s just a few streets over,” George announced to the room, looking away from Ron.

Nerves shook Hermione as they travelled down the grimy London street. It did not look much different from Tottenham Court Road. The last time she had been near this part of London they’d ducked into a grotty cafe and been cornered by a pair of Death Eaters.

At least then it had been a less obtrusive group, with only her, Ron and Harry. Now they were a large boisterous group with so many redheads they stood out like a flock of goldfinches. Most of them were loudly talking or laughing, and many a passerby smirked at the boisterous group. If someone wanted to target them, they’d be all too easy to spot. She gripped her beaded bag so harshly one of her nails chipped.

Thankfully George was quite correct about the distance being short. In minutes they arrived at a large dark building with music dimly pulsing through its walls and a line to get in.

A large barrel-chested man with the thickest neck Hermione had ever seen stood at the door. The eldest Weasleys along with Lee and Angelina were let through with barely a glance at their playing cards, but as soon as he spotted the younger members of the group the bouncer began to look like an agitated bulldog.

He eyed Ron and Hermione’s cards closely, but gave a much more scrutinizing look towards Ginny and Harry as they handed their playing cards to him. He held a small flashlight to the Jack of Spades and Queen of Spades, and even ran a fingernail along the edge.

“What’s your birthday?”

“1979!” Harry offered, before wincing at his volume. Ron let out a chuckle, while Ginny rolled her eyes. The man’s glare intensified. “Er… July 31st 1979, that is.”

“Hmm… And you?” growled the Bouncer, sourly looking to Ginny.

“Tonight’s my birthday, actually!” she said with a winning smile. Hermione nearly protested, but Ron gave a small shake of his head.

“Ah, happy birthday!” said the man nodding at the card before handing it back to her, looking much less ornery. “Let Teresa know about it, and they’ll do ya something special.”

“Your birthday, huh?” Harry asked Ginny as soon as they were through the door.

“Much easier to have a good time and get some free drinks that way, isn’t it?” she said, giving a conspiratorial grin he shared.

“But it’s not your birthday!” Hermione protested, irritation prickling down her neck.

“I’m not eighteen either,” Ginny breezily pointed out.

“Well you’re lucky the card was able to adapt to that when you hadn’t said an actual date,” Hermione persisted. She clutched her beaded bag closer to her chest. “We don’t want to stand out.”

“Why not? It’s a Muggle club. It should be fun.”

“Well, it might be a Muggle club, but that doesn’t mean it’s completely safe.”

“You worry too much,” she said in an infuriatingly calm and understanding voice.

“No! We have to make sure we stay low profile and don’t say anything wrong, because all it takes is one wrong word and then everything falls apart!”

Harry looked to the ground, his eyebrows knitting together. He had to be thinking of the Taboo and the Snatchers as well.

“It’s just a bit of fun, Hermione. We’ll be okay,” said Ginny with a smile, looking around to spot the rest of their group, taking Harry by the hand towards a corner table. “Ah there they are!”

Hermione had never felt more like shaking her friend. Didn’t she understand how dire things were? They’d met Death Eaters at a Muggle cafe in London last August, and Fenrir and those Snatchers in the woods. All it took was one small mistake and then hell would rain down on them; they could end up beaten or cursed or stabbed in the chest. “Hermione…” she heard Ron’s voice quiet and low in her ear. “There isn’t a Taboo anymore…”

“You don’t know that!” she almost shouted at him, painfully gripping her beaded bag.

One of his large hands gently started unwinding her fingers from the bag, before taking it from her and putting it in his jacket pocket. He started massaging her fingers. Under the pink and orange lights she could just make out the imprint the bag had left on her hands.

“I can feel the Taboo’s broken, and I bet you can too if you concentrate on it,” he said, continuing to work her hands until they became limp in his. “But if you want to leave and go back to the Burrow, we can right now.”

His quiet earnest words brought her eyes up to his. He saw right through her. He didn’t give her empty platitudes. He gave her a common sense answer to why things would be different, and an out if she was uncomfortable. She felt the overwhelming need to kiss him, and despite the crowd she decided to indulge herself. She stood on her tiptoes, and he took her lead leaning down to brush his lips against hers, hands still holding hers. How had they had so many years together without kissing?

For years she’d had to sit near him, with careful scrutinization over every action and inch between them. Was sitting too close to her friend? Would her leg pressing to his be too much? Would he notice how her eyes were fixated on his mouth a good three minutes as he grinned and told her about the mad thing he’d seen earlier that day? Did his hand around her shoulder linger longer than a friend’s hand would? When he’d tiredly leaned his head into her, had it meant something to him?

Now she could kiss him whenever she liked, and melt into his strong form, and let her hands be caressed, and get the anticipation of more ring through her body, and know it might be fulfilled later. The only thing she struggled to hold back was blurting out how very much she loved everything about him.

“Alright?” he asked as their lips parted.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from saying ‘I love you and actually yes I’d like to go home, but only because I want to snog you until both of us can barely breathe.’

“Ready to have ‘a bit of fun?’”

“I think I can manage,” she said with a smile. As long as he was by her side something akin to enjoyment of the evening could happen.

They went to a back table that didn’t nearly have enough seating for them all. This didn’t seem to matter as half of them strategically placed their jackets and purses so strangers would know it was occupied, while the others went to the bar to get drinks for everyone. Their table butted nearly up to the bar, and Ron perched on one of its stools.

“Do you want something to drink?” Hermione asked, looking at a menu.

He shook his head. “Someone needs to stay sober. Might as well be me.” He took the menu from her and eagerly pointed to it. “But I could do with these fried cheese things!”

She got in line, ready to order and pay when George stepped in. “Put your cash away. You’re not buying a thing, tonight! We’re here to celebrate you three, after all!”

Grateful not to have to spend the meager amount of cash she had, she put in her order for Ron’s food, and her wine. She’d never drunk much in her life, but she experienced the occasional wine with her parents.

She had worried the evening would be tedious, but seeing everyone looking giddy, toasting one another, and even dancing made her rethink the evening.

Ron had kept a close eye on George, but his brother was looking at ease and jubilant surrounded by family and friends. Hermione enjoyed the warming tang of red wine as they chatted away and seemed more relaxed than they’d been in years. The wine soothed her nerves as well.

“Was your skirt that short when we left?” George asked Ginny after she did a twirl to the music that accidentally flashed a cheek of her knickers.

“Yes it was,” she coolly answered. “And even if it wasn’t, there’s nothing you’re going to do about it, is there?”

Harry, already looking sloshed, looked down at Ginny’s legs, his mouth slightly open.

Ron gave a chuckle before flicking his friend’s ear.

“Righ’, sorry,” Harry said with a nod. Despite all the spells he’d done on his hair, it had reverted to its normal disheveled state.

“Let’s dance!” Ginny said, grabbing Harry’s hand. If it weren’t for the few rounds of shots, Hermione didn’t think they’d be able to get him on to the dance floor, but in his current state he happily followed his girlfriend to the bright lights and thumping music. This seemed an adorable prospect until they actually saw him dance.

“Oh shit… Someone needs to hit him with a stunner or something,” Ron laughed, as Hermione leaned back into him.

Harry had no sense of rhythm at all, and his stiff-armed movements made many people wince. Ginny didn’t seem to care, and was happily dancing beside him. Her effervescence seemed to drown out Harry’s sad attempts at movement.

Ron guffawed, and shook his head in amusement. Seated on a bar stool, he was only a half a foot taller than Hermione, which made for much more convenient kisses with no tiptoes needed. She had finished her second glass of wine and had a hot pleasant sensation buzzing through her. She put her head back and closed her eyes, feeling the vibration of his deep laugh and the music thrumming.

“Hmm… Y’should dance with me,” she murmured, though she made no move towards the dance floor. Instead she rubbed her hands down his legs that were on either side of her. The lights on the dancefloor shifted to green for a moment, and the cozy peace felt strangled. She glanced up to Ron, and thought of the one thing that really made her feel nothing but warmth. “You should snog me.”

He chuckled a bit, and she felt the back of his fingers graze her cheek.

“Dance or snog— Whichever you want,” he replied in her ear. “Though it seems you’re going a bit legless for dancing.”

“I am not!” she protested, pushing herself off of him and nearly stumbling. She stood very tall and made firm eye contact. “I am far from inebriated and do not like the implication that I am inebredated!”

“You mean inebriated?”

“That’s what I just said!” she said, grabbing his hand. “C’mon, let’s dance!”

He gave a shake of his head, but followed her onto the dance floor, where most of their group were dancing. Despite the yellow and orange lights, they were a vibrant group that stood out. Hermione couldn’t think why she’d been worried about it, though! And Ron was actually a very good dancer. She’d discovered this at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and was happy nothing had changed. He had a grand sense of rhythm and the way he held her close and moved about with her made her feel like one of those ladies from an old musical. Roger Gingers? No, that wasn’t it…

“You make me feel like a lady!” she shouted over the music. “I mean, a lady from a musical that dances and such! Y’know? Like with Astaire and all those old ones in the movies?”

Ron gave a nod, and she nodded along happy he knew the reference. Yes! He and she were meant for one another. He knew what she meant when she said things. Oh no, that couldn’t be right. Fred Astaire was a Muggle! There was no way he knew that reference!

“Wait! You don’t know who Astaire is!”

“Nope,” he replied, an amused grin making his dimple appear.

“Then why did you nod along?”

“You’re supposed to smile and nod at drunk people and irate girlfriends— and you’re the best of both!”

She laughed as he spun her around. She could do this forever! Just spin and spin, his hands on her, the bright lights bringing out odd colors in his hair, his warm smile, the invigorating feeling of just being alive...

“You dance as well as you snog!” she yelled, right as the song stopped, making many on the dance floor snigger, but she didn’t care. It was true. And he was hers, not anyone else's, and she got to snog him whenever she wanted. “Let’s get another drink!”

She bounded to the bar, and added another wine to the tab George had started.

“I think you might’ve had enough,” said Ron, sidling up beside her.

“Then you drink it!” she said, holding up the wine before taking a sip. He gently took the wine glass from her, and put it on the bar.

“Ever since I drank that poisoned mead, I’m not much for drinks from people I don’t know.”

“I just drank from it, though, so you know it’s safe,” she said, holding her hair up and away from her too hot neck.

“And I need to be sober so someone can get us all home at the end of the evening.”

That was a very good point. “You should snog me in the club’s bathroom,” she countered.

“That is very very tempting,” he said leaning in and giving her a peck on the nose. “When you aren’t sloshing about I might take you up on that.”

“M’not!” she said, grabbing her wine glass.

“Another round?” George asked, holding out a tray of shots. “For the trio! And the birthday girl!”

“Oh yes, let’s drink to my birthday!” Ginny crowed, grabbing what was at least her shot glass. There was a quick clearing of a throat from behind her from Bill. “Oh come oooon! Can’t I have some fun?”

“You can have plenty of fun. Just might want to be able to remember it tomorrow.”

“Don’t be mummish!” she replied, downing her drink.

Harry tittered at this, and she put a hand over his shot glass before he could get it to his lips. “You might want to hold back.”

“Mummish,” Harry laughed, with a shake of his shaggy head.

“How much has he had?” Charlie asked.

“A couple of shots and a beer,” said Lee with a shake of his head. “Complete and utter lightweight.”

“I want another shot,” Harry protested.

“Sorry, sloppy, leave this to the professionals,” George said, downing it before Harry could stop him. Hermione caught a grim look pass between Ron and Bill, but dismissed it as a good song came on and the other girls dragged them all onto the dance floor.

The party continued until Ron insisted they take a water break. Hermione slide into the booth next to him, wobbling only slightly, yet she gladly snuggled into him.

There was a gauzy blur to everything, with only the center of her vision having much clarity. It was nice. Her blurred cameo-vision settled on Ron. He was very handsome. And tall!

She told him so.

“Thanks,” he said, not seeming to take her seriously.

“I mean it, though! You’re almost pretty,” she said with a firm nod. “I’ve always thought so. You have the bluest eyes… They’re so… Blue! And I love your hands. They feel nice too.”

“Uh huh…” he said with a smile. “I think we best get you home soon… Here, have some water.”

“I don’t want water, I want more wine,” she said, taking the water and drinking it. “But I do mean it. You’re very good looking. And you have a cute bum! I haven’t told you that, but I should. I should tell you these things! I mean to, but I wait too long, and then I can’t tell you. Like with your clothes tonight! You look extra dishy and I can’t tell you because I don’t want you to think I’m not nice about clothes to you, ya know?”

“Well in that case, thank you?” he said, pouring her some more water that she angrily sipped at.

He’d taken off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up again at one point. She trailed a finger along a brain-scar on his forearm. She liked that. There was something about it that made her squirm in a good way.

“I like your arms… But to my point!!” she said, sitting up straight and poking him in the chest. “There’so much I can’t tell you! I’m the best secret keeper in the world. It’s like… It’s like my words are Fidelius charmed! And I don’t know how to tell you the secret! I want to, of course, but if I did and you didn’t say you love me back then I’d be so upset, and so I don’t say anything!”

She closed her eyes and leaned into his chest.

“You make it hard to not say things when you’re so pretty and good. You’re so good, Ron Weasley. I want to… I want to bottle you up and marry you and be the only one to touch your bum.”

His chuckle pleasantly hummed through her. He braced her against him a bit then kissed her forehead.

“I want that too,” he said, almost so quietly it couldn’t be heard over the music. She felt him stir beneath her head and let out a huff. “What?”

She cracked open an eye to see Harry gormlessly staring at them.

“I’m so glad you didn’t die. You’re like… the most important people in my life and I love you both so much,” said Harry, pointing to somewhere a foot or so to the left of them.

“No more alcohol for you, Harry,” said Ron, making Hermione sit up.

“I mean it!” Harry belligerently stated.

“We love you too, Harry,” said Hermione, putting a hand on him. “You’re like a brother to me! If I had brothers. I don’t. But if I did, you’d be my little brother.”

“You’re like an older sister that I love like a sister. And we’re both not dead,” Harry said with a nod.

“Merlin’s balls. We’ve got to get out of here,” Ron muttered, grabbing a glass of water and thrusting it into Harry’s hand. “Chug that and try not to be such a melancholy arsewipe, yeah?”

“I can’t help it. I had a bad childhood until I met you and Hagrid…” Harry said, looking so sad Hermione wanted to cry.

“You did! Ron, he DID have a bad childhood!”

“Yep, I’m aware,” said Ron with a sigh getting up. “Harry, where’d you put your glasses and jacket?”

He gave a sad shrug. “I don’t have a family. I don’t even have glasses now.”

Hermione nodded. “He can’t SEE, Ron.”

“I’m legally blind.”

“He’s blind, Ron!”

“Oh my GOD! I’m going to find the glasses!” Ron exploded, a hand going to his hair. “I’m getting bloody tired of dealing with drunks, you know that?”

“But he’s blind, Ron.”

With a wild gesture of frustration he started looking around the various points in the bar Harry had been to. Harry murmured about a lot of sad things, and Hermione told him about Ron’s bum which made him snigger. She leaned her head against the back of the booth, closing her eyes for just a moment.

She heard Charlie, Bill and Fleur bowed out for the evening, citing business they had to do the next day. Bill pulled Ron aside for a moment. She could just make out the low voiced words of ‘George,’ ‘rest’ and ‘bail’ beside her. She cracked open an eye and saw them both glancing at George, who was still bouncing on the dance floor with Lee and Angelina. Hermione listened to hear more, but the thrum of music drowned them out.

Hermione woke up an indeterminate amount of time later lying in their booth, head curled up on a conjured pillow and Ron’s large jacket draped over her.

She blearily rose and blinked to see Harry finish a shot beside her.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be drinking anymore,” she managed to rasp even though her tongue stuck to the top of her mouth. She smacked her lips and looked for some water. The nearest pitcher seemed miles away even though it was a mere few feet.

“Y’were sleeping in the booth and there’s was noone to stop me,” said Harry with a triumphant smile that morphed into an unpleasant low belch.

“How long have I been asleep?” Her head was aching. She should have drunk more water.

“Mmm… An hour or so?”

“Where’s Ron?”

“He tucked you in,” Harry answered. She warmed at the thought of giant Ron hunching over to tenderly make her comfortable.

Harry put his chin on his hand and stared at her. “He fancies you.”

“Well I quite fancy him as well.”

“You fancy him,” he said with a sloppy dismissive hand, “but not like he does you. He’s all…” A series of soft pats rained down on her head. “And you’re all…” He pointed a finger at her face, nearly poking her in the eye. “Ya know?”

“Oh well that makes sense,” she humored him. “Where are your glasses? Didn’t Ron go to fetch them ages ago?”

“Search me…” he said, putting his head on the table before slurring. “I need a nap…”

Ginny, Lee and Angelina came panting off the dancefloor.

“Where’s George?” asked Angelina, gulping down some water and making a loud noise of satisfaction when she’d finished.

“Wasn’t he with you?”

No one knew where George or Ron were. They were about to start searching when there was the sound of a mic turning on, and the DJ announced, “and now one of our guests wants to make an announcement.”

There was a horrid feedback noise and a scuffle, but then a familiar voice began to ring through the crowd.

“Hello everyone!” said George into the mic.

“Oh God, who let him have a microphone?” said Angelina, shaking her head.

“I’m George and I’m here to celebrate my little sister’s birthday! So everyone, say cheers to her!”

Many of the crowd raised their glasses and Ginny was happy to wave to them and give a small bow. Hermione spotted that she was wearing Harry’s glasses on top of her head. She turned to point this out to Harry but he was letting out a series of small snores.

“Also we’re here to celebrate my brother Ronnie, and his two best friends. I can’t tell you what they did, but they are being honored for their services and it’s pretty impressive shit, so cheers to them!” The crowd cheered again. “That’s right. He’s very impressive. Didn’t think he would be, but here we are! Didn’t think he’d make it out of a war alive, but he did. Not a fucking scratch on him, ‘cept some missing fingernails.”

Hermione looked for Ron, and found him standing to the side of the DJ booth. He looked like he was saying something, and George’s face went dark and surly. “No, I don’t feel like going home.”

“Get off the mic!” someone from the crowd hollered, and few people let out a resounding ‘woo’ in agreement.

“Yes, thank you for your support!” George said with a wave. “What was I talking about? Oh yes! The war! My other brothers all made it ok, but I lost an ear, and then my twin brother got fucking killed by a bloody wall. How stupid a way is that to go?”

The DJ tried to get George to hand over the mic, but he was belligerently holding it low and crowding the DJ out. Ron looked like he was saying something. He put a hand on George’s shoulder that was violently shrugged off, prompting Angelina and Lee to run over to intervene.

Hermione didn’t want to crowd them and was fairly certain she couldn’t get there fast enough to help anyways. Ginny had a hand to her mouth.

“None of you know how much we sacrificed to keep you all safe, you know that? On the run all the time, nearly dying every day, and you lot just went about your lives having no fucking clue. People died. My brother is DEAD! And you’re all having a bloody good time, but he’s dead and everything is fucking ruined and—”

The thick-necked bouncer moved in and started pointing a beefy hand in George’s face.

“George, don’t!” came Ron’s holler, just barely picked up by the mic.

Hermione heard a chorus of yells beside her as, in front of the entire Muggle club, George whipped out his wand and brandished it at the bouncer.

“Take another step and I’ll drop you,” he snarled.

Hermione gave a yell of her own as Ron put up his hands and stood in front of George’s sparking wand.

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

Chapter 5 Author’s Note-

Chapter 6 is already written and in the editing process.

I actually split Chapter 5 into two parts as it was epically long. So next chapter will be from Hermione's POV

oh, and it will have some smut

and angst

====================================================

Giant thank you to:

@abradystrix and @divagonzo for betaing and being so supportive and wonderful.

CHAPTER WARNINGS:

cursing, depresssed/anxious thinking, talk about eating & weight gain/loss, evidence of PTSD, drinking and drunkeness, threats

Previously, in 'Waking Up'

Hermione is on edge about her parents and is having trouble with anxiety in general- also worried about Ron not saying 'I love you' yet

Ron was exhausted from tending to George the night before- he's running on fumes- and is devastated that Hermione doesn't seem to care for Harry joining the Aurors- He fills out paperwork and gets sick with anxiety

Needs a quill and sees Hermione needs money for Australia

Goes to the village to get a job- gets lost in dark memories

Comes home to everyone giving cheers to him and the trio for Order of Merlins and Auror offers

They're all gonna go out to celebrate

#fanfiction #hermione granger #ron weasley #romione #harry potter #waking up #My writing #post hogwarts #hp fanfic

62 notes · View notes

frenchie-sottises · 4 years

Text

ADDICT Animation Thoughts.

HEY, WANNA LEARN DRUGS?

This is me not having doing one of these review sort of things in a while. I’m kinda swallowed in the love for the newest animation for Hazbin Hotel, so I’mma do a review on it.

Yeah, I’m talking about the whole music video for the song “ADDICT”. Yes, it’s a song I freaking LOVE and will probably sing it to the ceilings for the rest of the week.

I actually had no clue there was an animation being produced for this song. I thought it was a good fan song and it was just gonna be left like that, but no, the person, and team, decided to make a video for it.

Okay, first off, can I just gush over how much I freaking love this thumbnail?? It’s done by Arielle Somerville, and even though this doesn’t have Cherri included, who takes up the second verse and I’ll talk about that in the minute, she definitely gets the message across that this video, and song, is mostly about Angel himself. I especially love the reflection on the pole, showing Valentino, who showed his face in the comic that’s supposed to be a prequel to the actual pilot. I also love the expression on Angel’s face. To me, it spells utter hatred for Valentino, and why shouldn’t he?

I’m sure most people who like Hazbin Hotel have seen this vid, so I don’t think I need to put a spoiler warning. Instead of explaining what happens in the video, I will break down the actual song and what comes to mind when I hear the lyrics and see the imagery.

Til death do us part, but we're already past that phase. This is a brand new start, and I think I deserve some praise

I will forever love this shot.

for the way that I am. Despite having overdosed, and ending up comatose.

I don't give a damn, I've let my emotions go- Fuck being a sober hoe.

The first verse is fairly clear about what happened to him before and after he died. Angel states with the whole “Till death, do us part” that now that he’s in Hell, he’s starting anew. He then further states that he should “deserve some praise” for the way he is despite the fact he “overdosed” and “ending up comatose”. While it IS confirmed that Angel died via PCP overdose, PCP can cause anything from organ shutdown (lungs and kidneys specifically) to seizures and coma. It’s not exactly clear what specifically killed him, but if I had to guess: organ shutdown. Specifically respiratory arrest since the oxygen is crucial for sustaining the brain.

He then, like typical Angel Dust, sings about not giving a damn, which makes sense since cause, y’know, it’s Angel. He claims to have let his emotions go and “fuck being a sober hoe.” PCP is.. odd when it comes to the psychological effects of it. PCP can block NMDA receptors, which are responsible for pain sensations, memory function, learning, and yes, even emotions. However, it can also cause anything from euphoria and calmness to anxiety and violence depending on how much is taken and who is using it. I’m not an expert, so I don’t know what’s specifically causing such contradicting results. (If someone does know PCP back to front, I’m giving you the shot to put your two cents in.)

This is the mantra, this is my life you're playing with now til the end of the night. Surrounded by fire, the passion ignites, a hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva high!

We then hit the bridge. Angel walks towards the moth in the thumbnail named “Valentino”, and yes, I got plenty to say about him later, and tells him he’s playing with Angel’s life “til the end of the night.” I don’t exactly know what he means by this since Valentino is Angel’s boss and we all know it’s not some one-time thing. He then sings about being “surrounded by fire” as “the passion ignites” and “a hit of that heaven and hell.” Heaven and Hell, huh? I believe he, himself, knows of its effects. (I’m not calling him stupid/oblivious, but sometimes the effects of these sort of drugs tend to be underestimated when it comes to what they can actually do.)

I'm addicted to the madness. This hotel is my Atlantis. We're forever gonna have a fucking reason to sin. Let me leave my soul to burn and I'll be breathing it in. I'm addicted to the feeling. Getting higher than the ceiling. And we're never gonna want this fucking feeling to end. Just concede and give in to your inner demons again.

Angel, along with Cherri, sings about how he’s “addicted to the madness.” I mean, he did have a casual conversation while happily killing Sir Pentious’s minions. He then makes a reference to the lost city of Atlantis, a city that was said to be inhabited by people who were half-man/half-god and created a utopian civilization.. basically the hotel is an “oasis” of sorts to flee from his current situation. Of course, being in a place called Hell, he states how there will always be a reason to sin and that he’ll leave his soul to burn and breathe it in. I mean, it’s Hell, you can’t fault him for thinking that, and, if you know a thing or two about Hell, once you’re there, have fun getting out, so you might as well leave your soul to burn and breathe it in. Of course, Hell is a lot uglier than this, but we’re talking fictional characters here, so there’s gonna be some rule bending.

He then repeats the first line of the chorus, but it’s slightly altered. He’s “addicted to the feeling” and “getting higher than the ceiling”, which is probably referring to the drugs again cause, well, you know. Of course, like how drug abusers become drug abusers, he doesn’t want this “feeling to end”, so he takes more angel dust to keep this feeling going. He then says to “concede and give in to your inner demons again.” Concede means to “admit after resisting or denying”, so Angel, at some point, was resisting, or denying, the situation he was in, but after either fighting it/denying it for so long, before or after death, he accepted that he’s fucked up and gave in to his inner demons.

I also love this shot.

After a few seconds of awesome music, Cherri gets her time to shine.

Yeah you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit. While death rains from above, so count your blessings cause this is it.

You're not letting it go, so what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves.

You already know, so come if you're feeling brave, and fancy yourself a mate.

Cherri seems to have suffered an abusive relationship before as she seems to use past tense for whoever she’s referring to. "Yeah, you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit.” Whatever it was, it’s not something that can be made up for. She then says “While death rains from above, so count your blessings cause this is it.” I don’t exactly know what she means by this. Technically, they’re both dead and in Hell, so I don’t think whoever this man is has had his soul destroyed.. mainly because of what she says later. However, as death does what death does best, she’s telling him to count his blessings as this is it. I don’t know what she means as we don’t actually know that much about Cherri to begin with, so it’s more of a hit or miss kind of game in this playing field. She doesn’t seem to have any grudges against him, or at least doesn’t act like she does. I know somewhere down the line that our “protagonists” will have to face their problems, but I’m not sure what Cherri has in store for a man she seemingly got over.

However, it may be over for her, but she states that it isn’t for him by telling him that he’s “not letting it go.” She continues by asking “so what if I misbehave?” and then following that up with “It’s what everybody craves.” She makes it seem like he couldn’t handle her overly energetic attitude. It may also suggest that Cherri, along with her use of bombs and how much she seems to love blowing up shit, may be emotionally unstable. While yes, she may be kind and friendly to Angel, but he’s just a friend, I don’t think he’s anything more.

It doesn’t stop there though, whatever it is, she tells him he already knows, so come if he’s feeling brave and fancy himself a mate. Mate is often referring to a lover, but could also mean friend or someone for a one-night stand. Again, since we don’t know much about her, these lines could mean anything.

You want it? I got it! See what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night! Your money and power.. my sinful delight! A hit of that heaven and hell, a helluva high!

The bridge doesn’t do much in terms of explaining what’s happened to Cherri. While yes, it’s definitely explaining something, we don’t know what that something is. We can only guess at the moment.

Cherri tells whoever this man is that if he wants it, she’s got it. She then teases him with “See what you like? We could have it all by the end of the night!” The whole “end of the night” has now been said on both sides. It could mean about the similar situations between them. Heck, it might be why they’re friends to begin with. Nothing brings people together more than having similar experiences.

Then, and I don’t know if this is me, Cherri’s voice seems to tone down slightly when saying, “Your money and power” before kicking it back up with her smiling and saying, “my sinful delight!” The animation may support this as everything tones down, except the music, as if she’s reminiscing. She then follows it up with the line that leads into the chorus. As far as I know, she isn’t taking drugs, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be addicted to certain habits. *cough, cough* Blowing shit up. *cough, cough*

We then hit the chorus again. The chorus before introduced Cherri into the video, but now it’s being sung by both on the same stage and in the same building: the same one Cherri decides to blow up as they both sing about their respective situations. There isn’t much to this other than the fact that it feels more of a wrap up on explaining their current states.

Of course, those who have listened to the VIP version knows there was an extra verse sung by Angel, which was included at the end of the video.

I'm addicted to the sorrow when the buzz ends by tomorrow. There's another rush of poison flowing into my veins, giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain.

I'm addicted, I'm dependent. Looking awesome, feeling helpless. And I know I'm raising Cain by every highway in hell. Maybe things won't be so terrible inside this hotel.

I.. don’t know where to begin with this. I had to go back several times because there’s just so much detail in every scene. Everything from seeing Travis getting kicked in the face to the cigarette that Angel threw in the ash tray looking like a heart.

I think I’ll start with what I think might be going on.

Angel, more than likely, is still in an abusive relationship with Valentino, who I will ramble about in a few. I’ve seen a few who’ve said that he isn’t, but I don’t think he managed to break it just like that. He is the one who told the audience to give in to their inner demons after all.

As far as Cherri goes? She’s become an addict to her own habit of blowing stuff up for fun. While yes, she’s seen blowing stuff up that is about/for Valentino, with a habit that’s become an addiction, I don’t think it’s gonna be very specific.

Of course, I could be very wrong about Cherri. She is seen blowing up a sign that literally says “ADDICT.”

So maybe she has broken an addiction of hers and is stronger than I give her credit for. Maybe that’s also why she’s coming to the hotel, cause she also said the hotel is her Atlantis, so it’s probably a hint that she’s gonna be added later.

Speaking of Cherri...

I love her solely for this.

While they aren’t exactly ideal people, they are, almost, ideal friends. Whenever one struggles, the other comes to help. Angel helped Cherri fight off Pentious while Cherri is here comforting Angel as he goes through his abusive relationship with Valentino. (She also helps with, again, blowing up anything that belongs/is for Valentino. Ridding imagery of an abuser will bring some ease to the victim’s life.) I say “almost” as they don’t go about it in the tamest of ways.. though I understand why people would come to defend what Cherri did. If nothing stops them from fighting and taking land, then nothing would stop Cherri blowing up a billboard or two, especially if it’s Valentino.

I think it’s time I’ve rambled about Valentino and the relationship he and Angel have, SO HUGE WARNING, this is gonna mention sexual assault/rape.

Valentino... I know I’m right when I say that just about everyone in the Hazbin Hotel fandom absolutely hates this fucker.

I can’t tell you how many people have made jokes about it already. Who wouldn’t hate him? I can tell you right here, right now, that moths, because he’s a moth, are my favorite insects. They’re fluffy, amazing to look at, and can make for some nice character designs. However, I have not once found myself being fond of Valentino. He has a great design, but that’s about it. He may not be real, but I’d strangle him too for not respecting Angel’s boundaries.

who

the fuck

aRE YOU

TO DO THIS??

My god, it doesn’t even stop here. This was pretty tame. I have a feeling not many know what was actually shown in the mirror when Angel was in his room.

Yeah, I don’t need to tell ya. I mean, I hope that’s not what’s happening, but Valentino IS one of many of the overlords of Hell, so who knows how twisted he is. It looks like he’s just holding him in place and just glaring at him through the mirror as he probably monologues about some bull about Angel being his and whatnot, but this is Hell and tame can just go out the window.. that and Valentino is literally fucking drooling.

As a final note, I’m pretty hyped for whatever Vivzie and her crew have in store for this series. I’ve seen the pilot, I’ve read the comic, and now I’ve seen the music video, all have been great.

I can’t really guess on where Vivzie’s gonna go with this whole story. I’ve always learned that Hell is an inescapable place, so I’d expect that Hazbin Hotel will be about Charlie hoping to rehabilitate people to go to Heaven only to find out that there’s no way out. Maybe it’ll be about how Hell doesn’t have to be some horrible place for nothing but pain, but a place to finally try and fix your problems so they don’t control you in the afterlife.

However, Hell has one issue: the overpopulation and extermination. It’s why Charlie opened up the hotel to begin with, so maybe the plot is far more clear cut. It is a fictional world. Technically the Hell most people think of is nothing really like this. It’s just an eternal fire pit where you’ll suffer physical pain over and over. However, Vivzie’s take on it is far more abstract. It seems Hell is where you’re put into situations you wouldn’t want to be in. Angel seems to want love and have fun, but is instead stuck with someone abusive and what he finds fun has been turned into work, both of which he hates.

In the end, I’m really loving Hazbin Hotel’s story as a whole. I love the fact Angel got some more depth to him. I’m looking forward to what’s in store for Cherri and the others.

P.S.: You wanna know the irony to this? I love moths, but most spiders I hate. However, I’m here hating Valentino, a moth, while having a fondness for Angel, a spider.

I’ve never had something like this happen to me before and it’s one of many reason why I love Hazbin Hotel.

#Frenchie Rambles #Hazbin Hotel #Angel Dust #Cherri Bomb #Valentino #Frenchie Screenies

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bffhreprise · 3 years

Text

Best Friend For Hire Reprise, Entry 381

“Not tired are you?” questioned Ariadne, who had been testing my abilities and helping me understand how to use them for hours. There were differences between how to accomplish tasks, since Ariadne’s magic needed control of her emotions just as much as clear mental pictures, but her explanations really did help.

“P-Processing.” I told her, wondering if she actually thought I ever grew tired. I felt she should know better, considering she knew what I am. At the moment, I was still revising her first lesson, current lesson, and all of the ones in-between as well as considering some other possibilities for my magic. I was thankful to know that my weird ability to see other places wasn’t monstrous, since Ariadne could do it too, just not as well. Part of my mind was still coming to terms with the idea that I had been subconsciously using magic my entire life. Thankfully, Ariadne didn’t think I had inadvertently hurt anyone.

“No, Dani, I don’t think you should make requests of Raine quite yet. Let her keep practicing.” stated James in reply to something Dani had asked in her native tongue. The musical language of her people was still beyond me without lessons, but a few words seemed to make sense to me.

“But Daddy! This would be practice!” she insisted in English.

James switched to Dani’s native tongue, and Dani’s smile turned impish, a sure sign she had been caught being mischievous again.

Alma took a few steps over to hug Dani from behind before saying, “Dani, behave. Birthday girls get to make the requests here.”

“I… d-don’t mind.” I told them, moving back and forth between where they were talking and where Ariadne was, not wanting Ariadne to think I was ignoring her. I was aware of the vampire brothers watching me, probably unaccustomed to seeing someone in two different places, but playing with Papak had shown me that they were practically frozen in place compared with me, just like everyone else.

Meanwhile, Ariadne was telling me about tricks she had discovered over the years to quickly diagnose health problems in different types of creatures. I doubted some of the tricks would work quite as well for me, not having a couple thousand years of experience in recognizing different types of cellular damage, but she seemed confident that I’d get the hang of it.

James was staring at Dani, whose smile only grew.

“A playmate for Alberich!” she suggested, finally letting us know what she wanted.

Alma sighed before saying, “She probably shouldn’t attempt life yet.”

“Is that really possible?” questioned Maple.

“Of course, though creating life takes far more energy than you’d probably expect.” replied Ariadne, having finally reached them. “I certainly can’t recommend doing it until Raine is very confident in her abilities. Getting something slightly off is very easy and potentially lethal for the new creature.”

“What about creating an enhancement suit for Pufflewink?” suggested James, obviously thinking that Pufflewink could keep up that way.

For several seconds, I considered different modifications to the suits, considering how cute they could look. While considering cuteness, I also considered whether or not Pufflewink would feel comfortable. Like all kitties, Pufflewink liked warmth, and the suits were designed to ensure a certain level of warmth. Everyone else had adapted to the feel fairly quickly, so I imagined Pufflewink might as well. After letting myself enjoy numerous scenarios of my kitty playing around in her new suit, I double-checked a rather important part of this idea, asking “I c-can?”

James nodded, saying, “As long as Jarod doesn’t mind.”

“That’s an awesome idea, man-slave!” insisted Emma, grinning broadly.

“I’ll admit that I’m intrigued to see what spells go into these things.” commented Vito eagerly.

“Suit design is a trade secret, so no giving it away to anyone.” stated Jarod loudly to be heard over everyone. “Mila, would you mind adjusting the design for felines?”

“Already optimizing the fiber configuration.” she replied, sounding amused. “Master, mind if we borrow your office briefly?”

“Feel free. Raine, I think she wants you upstairs.” encouraged James, smiling as well.

I nodded to him, and then went into the office. Quest gladly accepted! At the speed of Mila, the entire room transformed into screens for me to inspect with additional screens forming up from the tiny ball things that came out of the floor. Everything from molecular composition of the substances involved to the details on how James’ spells interacted with the physical form were on display.

Downstairs, James was commenting to Jarod “I hope you know that she’ll never forget the designs.”

Jarod grinned broadly. “And I hope you realize that I have many, many plans that could use her aid.” He was doing his villain act again. On one hand, he really was good at looking like an evil mastermind. On the other hand, he was a good person and wouldn’t actually attempt anything evil.

In the free time I had between taking in the different screens, I considered if I was really capable of meeting Jarod’s expectations. Yes, I was learning to use my magic, but I didn’t have anywhere near Ariadne’s level of mastery. Sure, the best way to get there was practicing, but what if I oopsed again? Energy research could be dangerous. Would I be able to contain things? Maybe Jarod wanted safer experiments first… He’d listen if I told him I wasn’t ready for anything dangerous, right? More scenarios erupted in my mind, but I didn’t have faith in them. Jarod was very nice, but he could also be a little… obsessive.

“If she comes back with a finished suit, I’ll be most disappointed.” stated Vito with a frown.

“No need to be disappointed. I’ll gladly show you the spell.” James told him. “I just ask that you don’t utilize it for your kind yet.” When Vito nodded his agreement, James created his spell.

For once, I really studied what went into the spell, committing the entire arrangement of energy to memory. Though I didn’t have confidence in duplicating such effects with my own magic yet, I could arrange residual energy, just like the others. Mila was already showing me modifications to the spell on some of the screens, having shown me a 3D model of it already.

Emma sighed and said, “You guys really know how to bring down a party.”

“We’re partying?” questioned Noelle, seeming to have forgotten the conical hat on her head. She was so adorable, and I wondered what she was showing the others. Sadly, her magic couldn’t affect me through my own magic, so I couldn’t see.

“Yes. Today’s Raine’s birthday.” replied Dejon with a patient smile. He had been working with her lately.

I mentally danced through the room I had already prepared for them as a couple, in hopes of them dating. He liked her, paying far more attention to her than he had paid attention to anyone else, and she certainly seemed interested whenever she looked at him. I put the new memory of them together in goofy party hats up on a shelf, admiring it.

Noelle’s eyes brightened, happy as ever. “I should tell her Happy Birthday!”

I mentally thanked her again, adding another tally in my mind’s personal room for her under the times she wished me a happy birthday today as I continued studying and connecting all of the pieces Mila was feeding me.

“She’s off making something for her cat at the moment.” explained Dejon.

“She has a cat!? I love cats!” she exclaimed excitedly.

There was a whole section of Noelle’s private room in my mind dedicated to her playing with Pufflewink. The adorableness delighted me.

“Me too!” exclaimed Kayla, lifting up Alberich, who had been leaning against Alma’s leg for the past minute.

Alberich was a very proud, very small lion, but he didn’t swipe at Kayla this time. Through our chats, I had learned that Alma spoiled him far too much when he was young, which was probably why he could be a bit snooty. Luckily, even Alberich found Noelle cute, affected by her magic just like most everyone else—poor James didn’t know what he was missing. When Noelle pet him, I could imagine how easily Alberich recognized her delight.

Not long after Noelle and Kayla started playing with Alberich, Mila informed everyone that I would be indisposed for several more minutes—she could only show me things so fast. I would also need some time to practice before I would be satisfied. Everyone but me went to the ballroom to dance instead of gaming for once. There were more cat-themed party decorations in there, and I was determined to join them soon.

After I finished the material that Mila had for me, I started asking her questions and was surprised to find she liked my ideas for a few modifications in the suit. She had originally assumed that I would simply remove the suit whenever Pufflewink wanted to go potty, but agreed with me when I pointed out that my little kitty would probably get disoriented by the sudden loss of enhancements more than our friends did. With a bit of work, we came up with some alterations that should work, and Mila found some additional cleaning spells she felt would be better suited for cats. Four-hundred-and-seventy-two variations later, Mila and I were satisfied that we had a suit Pufflewink would like, so I fetched her and created the suit around her.

The difference was notable as soon as I saw my little kitty move. She was confused, but I talked to her and warned her she’d need to be a little more careful. Mila insisted the difference in strength and speed was considerable, so I took her word for it. Satisfied that Pufflewink was happy, I took her down to join the others, dancing along with her in my arms.

Mila felt the need to stick a spotlight on me the moment I arrived, but I didn’t mind. James and Alma came over to examine the suit.

“Were you successful?” he asked.

“M-Maybe.” I replied, not as confident as Mila.

He grinned as he said, “We should test it later before Alberich and Pufflewink play too much together.”

I nodded in agreement. Pufflewink would need more time to adjust to her new abilities. “I-I should… visit… with… Ariadne.” I told him after considering a number of scenarios where Ariadne examined my kitty to make sure the enhancement suit was agreeing with her.

When James and Alma moved to hug me, I was surprised, but I only considered dodging for a very brief moment. I did like hugs, and neither of them would accidentally squeeze Pufflewink too hard.

“I hope you’re having a wonderful birthday, Raine.” stated James as he hugged me.

I nodded and smiled at my friends, telling them “B-Best ever.”

“No.” stated James, making me consider what was wrong. He then clarified “We plan to make each one better.”

I probably stared at him too long when he said that and nearly let myself cry. James was such a kind, wonderful person, and I would be grateful to him forever. I was certain he underestimated how much he had done for me—modest as he was—but giving me a home where I am accepted, despite what I am, was already the best present I could receive in a lifetime.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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aethwrs · 3 years

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Let me help you

Agatha Harkness x Reader

A/N: I'm not really proud of this but I hope you like it. I'll fix the possible mistakes later.Also, please tell me if I should add any trigger warning.

TW: mental control, mentions of nightmares

══════════════════════

Silent streets, the loud sound of gusts of wind and large blood-red clouds covering most of the night sky gave the environment a gloomy appearance. Blasts of crimson red and purple magic were seen here and there, both coming from different witches who were fighting each other, their magic altering that chaotic environment in which lightning and thunder could now be seen and heard.

Agatha was trying to take Wanda's powers, while she was trying to save and keep standing that city that was the product of her sorrow and sadness, in which she now had her own family with the man she had lost time ago.

“You’re hurting these people, Wanda” Agatha's voice was present, causing Wanda to look up, finding the owner of that voice standing on the edge of a building with a malicious smile plastered on her face as she watched how a crowd of neighbors approached the red-haired witch, begging her to stop causing them pain.

“Stop this” Wanda muttered as she looked around and listened to the neighbours who begged to be released from her mind control, “Stop this!” She yelled, this time addressing Agatha who was watching the situation from above.

“I am not the one causing them pain, dear” she chuckled, her hands pointing to the people surrounding the other witch. “I just cut their strings”

Just seconds after Agatha said that, she watched as Wanda disappeared right in front of her eyes and without even having time to react, she felt cold hands settle on the sides of her head and then some red mist clouded her vision, her eyes turning the same color as that mist.

In the blink of an eye Agatha found herself back in that forest that was once her home but now, the memory of it only caused her nightmares and pain.

No, she couldn't be there.

No.

She didn't want to be there, not again.

"Agatha!" she heard the distant screams coming from among the tall trees. With Wanda closely following her, Agatha slowly approached the place from which those screams were coming.

Taking the place where she was that night, Agatha saw how her constant nightmare and worst memory was happening again, but unlike how it happened in dreams, this felt real.

"Harkness do something!" Agatha watched your face twist in pain as you screamed with all your might, for some reason your powers weren't working and you weren't able to defend yourself on your own. But no matter how much you yelled at her, young Agatha still didn't know how to use her dark magic to help and all she did was protect herself from the hunters with a barrier.

"I can't" Agatha murmured, more to herself than to you, she couldn't understand someone with as much power as you was unable to defend herself.

Your gaze full of fear and anger sought to make eye contact with the other young woman while you tried to resist the men's attempts to take you away.

"AGATHA!" Your voice reflected your pain, you were helpless. You were exhausted and did not know how long it would be until you passed out from the physical pain caused by a powerful force that you were not able to recognize. You felt how it drained the last traces of energy you had and before everything faded to black, you whispered, "help me"

Those were the last words Agatha heard from you and what happened next was just a blur.

Opening her eyes, Agatha found herself in the same situation as before. Wanda in front of her a few meters away and...no, it couldn't be real. Her mind was surely playing with her because otherwise, it would not explain what was in front of her eyes.

"I see you recognise her, don't you?" Wanda said in a mocking and sarcastic tone while one of her hands kept your head fixed looking at Agatha. It was you. Y/n. But how? "Cat caught your tongue?" The redhead laughed bitterly and she could swear that she saw Agatha's eyes soften in fear.

"Y/N...how?" Agatha yelled the last part looking at the young woman, who released one of your hands, letting you fall a few inches while you let out a small cry of fear.

"Harkness for the love of-" You started yelling at her right before Wanda silenced you. Oh it was you definitely, Agatha would recognize your kind and patient personality anywhere. You were struggling to get out of Wanda's grip, kicking and hitting but there's no need to say that it wasn't working.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, dear" the red-haired witch whispered in your ear, earning a death glare coming from the oldest witch.

"What do you want, Maximoff?" Agatha muttered as Wanda smiled evily.

"You leave me and my family in peace" She started, playing with a lock of your hair between her fingers, Agatha's eyes watching every single move she made. "and you two can stay alive"

"Let her go first" you rolled your eyes, still unable to say a single word while Agatha negotiated your 'freedom'.

"As you please" and with a flick of her hand, Wanda disappeared in a cloud of red smoke, letting you fall freely from the heights.

Knowing you would use your magic to stop the fall, Agatha stayed in her spot, surprising herself when the only thing she saw was how you didn't even attempt to save yourself and instead, you only called out her name.

Going as fast as she could, she caught you a few inches before you hit the ground, hands gripping your waist tightly to help you get on your feet.

"Are you really alive?" She whispered, fixing and taking out the dirt from her dress.

"I'm as alive as you are, Harkness" You coldly answered, tying your shoelaces and moving her out of the way, ready to go. "Now move"

"You didn't use your magic, why?" Agatha blurted out of nowhere, her eyebrows raised and a serious expression on her face. "And how are you here?"

"That crazy witch just pulled me into this dream town and surprisingly, I couldn't do anything" you sarcastically replied to her and emphasized the words 'dream town'. Rolling your eyes in annoyance you approached her, getting dangerously close to her face "guess why? oh yeah, I have NO MAGIC!"

Taking advantage of the closeness, she looked into your eyes. You were infuriated, yes, but your eyes also showed her how the pain bottled inside of you screamed to get out and take control of your body.

"What do you mean you don't have magic?" Although your closeness made her somewhat nervous, she simply decided to ignore it and continue her questioning.

"You see, for example, you can use spells and continue with your evil witch-style plans..." you began to explain with a false expression of joy and a calm tone of voice while moving your hands in the air as way of emphasizing your words "and I can't!"

The sudden change in your voice made her move slightly away from you, not because she was scared, but surprised. But who was she to judge you for being mad?

"You're as lovely as I remember you" she replied sarcastically, hearing a sigh coming from you.

"Same goes for you" you told her, your voice monotonous and cold, since you only wanted to leave that place but she was making you waste your time. "But now, if you excuse me, I have to go" You pushed Agatha aside, ready to go before she stopped you once again.

"You are so stubborn" she muttered under her breath and with a simple move of her hands, both of you appeared on her basement, your eyes quickly scanning every corner of the gloomy place.

"If I remember clearly, you used to like that" It seemed like you were just teasing her and if it were another time, she would have done it too, but the venom in each of your words made her realise how mad you actually were, so maybe the jokes should wait. "oh and for you to keep in mind, you just brought me here against my will...very villainous may I add"

"What I was trying to say is, I can help you" Evading any sarcastic reply she could think of, Agatha remained serious as she spoke.

"Why would I trust you?" You shrugged and asked without even looking at her while you inspected the books stored on the shelves.

"Because you know me" The brunette simply answered and pointed to one of the old books "and take that one"

"Do I really?" You turned to her with the book full of dust in your hands, determined to question everything you could, knowing how much it irritated her.

"As much as you probably hate me, you must accept that you need my help" Agatha gestured for you to come closer to her "You know I wouldn't hurt you so...let me help you"

"But you wouldn't protect me either" you whispered and chuckled, the words coming out of your mouth unintentionally.

"Y/n, about that day I-" she tried to explain but stopped once you stood in front of her handling her the book.

"I don't feel like talking about that now" you said softly, sighing and showing her a gesture similar to a smile that even if it wasn't one, gave her some hope.

"Then let's start with this book" Agatha added, leading you to a small altar in one of the corners. "We have a long way to go"

#agnes x reader #agnes imagines #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #wandavision x reader #wandavision #agnes

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