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caramel-velvet · 3 years

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Walk in The Light

Sunday, October 31: Samhain

Evil AU || Aphrodisiac || “Welcome home, Honey.”

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

It was supposed to happen in the kitchen, or the living room but apparently not, according to my own mind not cooperating. You know when you start writing, and it starts going somewhere and you really weren’t planning on taking it there. Well this is that. And I’m sorry...

AN: This is the last prompt for smut week but please know I had so much fun writing for probably one of my favorite ships. Will definitely be writing for Damian x Raven again.

She’d walked in on him twirling a small dagger in between his fingers as he casually sat in her kitchen. Raven’s jacket rolled off her slumped shoulders, dropping to the floor as she was unable to catch it as her eyes darted to the man that had disappeared over a year ago.

“Welcome home, honey.” Damian smirked, hopping off the island walking up to his former lover.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Her voice trembled as she took a step back.

“You should’ve changed the locks then.” He stalked up to her, his eyes narrowing as she tried to utter an unfamiliar incantation.

“No,” he shook his head calmly. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Damian took in her body “You don’t actually think I’d be foolish enough to come to this city alone do you?” Raven’s hands dropped to her sides in defeat.

“And how many members of the league are currently circling my apartment?”

“None,” Damian closed the space between them, close enough to feel her breath on his chest, “but they are expecting me back,” he held the dagger to her neck “and if I don’t return, your deal with the league becomes null and void.” His hand pressing into her mid back “this city will be in flames by dawn.” He didn’t need to remind her, she was there when the deal had been made. Raven thought of any way to counter him; she could fight, but looking up at him, and taking in the same green eyes that she’d gotten lost in so many times before in this very apartment caused her to hesitate. “Weighing your options little demon?”

“Don’t call me that,” she jerked back. “Don’t ever call me that!” She flinched attempting to reign in her emotions. Looking away from him, needing to be free of that look on his face, the clear smugness from getting under her skin. She felt her heart tighten, trying to separate the man in her apartment from the man she once loved, and unfortunately the one she still loved. His hands were back on her, pushing her against the wall, as his skin touched her, a black snap rang through the air, flashes of their past flaring between Raven’s now completely white eyes. In that second she relieved their entire relationship, every tender bit they shared, causing her to feel as if she were choking, all their emotions from every past moment significant or otherwise bubbling to the surface. Tears fell from her eyes as she came to, feeling empty as she felt Damian’s hand tightly grasp at her neck. Tightening as her hands glowed.

He didn’t take his hands off her, Raven knew he didn’t see what she did but by the look in his eyes, she knew he felt it too. He brushed her hair out of her face with the tip of the dagger, her eyes glaring at it from the corner of her eye. It was one of the first things he’d given her, something she snuck in his old uniform the night he’d left. His words played in her head as she remembered how he’d refined her skills in hand to hand conduct. Again the thought of fight rang through her, but she knew he’d counter. He distracted her when he planted a kiss on her temple, Raven’s eyes shooting to look up at him in shock.

“Looked like you were getting lost in that pretty little mind of yours.” Damian attempted to break the tension in the room. He couldn’t cope with the way his lungs felt as if it were being filled with water as his skin touched hers. Yet he couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t help but be selfish with her one last time. The league, regardless of the deal they’d cut with his father, wanted this city burned to the ground and Damian would happily see it through, but as long as she were here, as long as she called it home, he’d fight- he’d always fight to keep her safe.

“It’s kind of difficult to stay present when you’re cutting off my airflow.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” He knew Raven inside out, just as she knew him. He stabbed the dagger into the wall beside her head, smirking when she didn’t flinch.

“Why are you here, Damian?” Raven's voice quivered.

Damian hadn’t heard his name in ages, the sound of it weakening his grip on her body. He took in the sullen look in her eyes, remembering the last time he’d seen her this close, been able to touch her like this, smell the unique mix of lavender, earl grey tea, and sage. He’d risked the trust he’d regained within the league sneaking to see her on multiple instances. Always staying where he couldn’t be seen, couldn’t be tempted to break his vow to be with her again, the rest of the world be damned.

Even in those moments, Raven reached out to him, her powers alluring him. She knew he’d sometimes find her in the crowd, or solace of her home but he’d always stayed where he believed she couldn't see him, but as if to turture her and himself, he still stayed within reach of her powers. So seeing him tonight, being pressed up against him like this Raven couldn’t get a solid grip on herself. She wasn’t prepared for this.

She wanted to pull him closer, but it would’ve been smarter to push him away.

She wanted to kiss him again; she never got the chance to last time, but it would’ve been smarter to attack.

She wanted to strip him bare- have him feel as naked as she felt, it would’ve been smarter to subdue him, the team could evacuate the city in time if she were fast enough, hopefully.

And most importantly, she wanted to tell him she loved him and beg him to stay, but it would’ve been smarter to spew literal curses his way.

They couldn’t tell you who made the first move, they both fell into one another, a pained choke bubbling from Raven’s throat. She was content to pretend to forget who he now was, and he felt content to pretend that nothing had changed. They hurriedly reached out to one another, ridding each other of their clothes, branding the other’s skin to remember the night that shouldn’t have been. Damian dropped to his knees, looking up at her as if she were a sacred deity that could save him from all his damnation. He pecked her panty covered center, his mouth salivating as he remembered spending hours worshipping her body. Unable to wait any longer he slipped it off to expose her to him. “Can I taste you?” He whispered.

“Take me,” she didn’t want him to bury his head between her thighs just yet, she wanted to feel him tomorrow when she woke up and he would inevitably not be there “however you’d like” she submitted “but I wish you’d fuck me first.”

The bolt that shot down his spine when he registered her request almost rooted him to his spot between her legs. But he’d oblige, he’d have her in any way she’d like. Lifting, he pressed her legs to his waist, holding her up and against him as he marked her neck, her hands scratching across his shoulders as she moaned in his ear. Damian walked through her apartment, sobered by the fact she hadn’t changed a thing since he was rightfully here last.

Falling to her bed, Damian crawled on top of her, his hands traveling down her body tracing over her clit and through her lips sighing in appreciation. “I could never forget how wet you get.”

He looked at his fingers rubbing at her clit, her thighs falling to the mattress as she exhaled slowly “only for you.”

His eyes shot up to hers. He knew for a fact that members of the extended Titans and even Justice League teams had made passes at her. He'd expected her to have maybe moved on from him, he didn’t want her to, but he only wanted her happy. She lived out in the open to date Damian Wayne becoming Rachel Roth for a number of reasons. She deserved to be loved, because as much as he loved her, he knew that what they had, perhaps given their current position- have, would hurt her more than anything. He couldn’t love her outside of the shadows, and he himself could never walk in the light to join her.

He kissed her, for fear that his own emotions would be too obvious to her. He already knew though, she felt everything he had. She reached between them, knocking his hand away, grabbing at his erection as she shimmied her hips down to feel him prod at her entrance. He pulled away, his forehead pressing against her own, remembering the moments they’d make love never taking their eyes off one another. He couldn’t stand the thought of missing how expressive she was when she let go.

Damian’s hand reached for Raven’s, their fingers intertwining as he gently pushed into her, their collective gasps causing the other to shudder. He felt bigger than she remembered, the stretch familiar but new all at once. Damian eased in feeling her shudder against him. “You’re taking me so well.” He groaned, kissing the side of her lip, they both looked down, watching as he slowly edged in, Raven’s hold on his hands squeezing tighter. She could feel every vein, every ridge of him, feeling as if he were devouring her whole as he finally slid all the way in.

Damian shivered as he tried not to move, his lips falling on Raven’s as her walls seemed to only nurse him deeper. Her hips rolling softly causing his to pull back slightly, ebbing back in with a cry from his lover below him “Shh,” he comforted her “you’re the only one who can take me like this, aren’t you” her sobs of pleasure spurring him on “I know darling, I know” He praised, his hips still working in and out of her slowly.

Raven felt as if he could split her in half, the pleasure she felt prickling through her pores causing her to look up, chasing his lips. Biting his lower lip and dragging it out slightly, she pouted up at him, “choke me,” his hips stuttered “please?” she blinked through tears of sweet, masochistic anguish. Damian pulled his hands away from her, one hand going to her hips, sliding from there to the juncture at the back of her knee holding on tightly. He rolled his body into her own, Raven giving back as much as she got, she bit her lips to stop from screaming when his pelvic bone pressed against her clit. Damian’s other hand reached for her neck, gripping the sides just enough. Raven moaned out his name, her eyes never leaving his as he pressed tighter, Damian mesmerized as she seemed to be egged on, her walls fluttering madly against his dick.

Damian released his grip just enough for her to catch her breath, before tightening once more, his body falling against hers as he picked up the pace of his hips. “Don’t stop.” Raven choked, her hands shooting to his wrist when she felt him attempt to loosen his hold. Damian could feel her wall hugging him, his own grunts joining her desperate moans for release. Raven scratched at his back and sides as she announced she was cumming, clenching around Damian madly.

Rolling her hips against his, she froze up her hands pulling his head back to her own, kissing his lips, her tongue dipping into his mouth, massaging against his own. She could feel herself implode, her only thought was to let it out, her voice trembling as she chanted his name. Her hair sticking to her skin and her heart beating at a million miles per hour. Raven could feel her head pound whether from the lack of oxygen or the toe curling orgasm, she didn’t care, she didn’t have to care right now, because Damian’s own cries against her seemed to ebb her back into an orgasm that seemed to catapult her into a quivering mess.

Damian couldn’t help it, his hand releasing her neck, wrapping around her body gripping Raven tightly as they felt directly tethered together, his fingers dug into her skin, sure to leave bruises as he rotted against her “Think you can take all of me?” He panted against her lips, Raven weakly nodded, weakly rolling her hips against him. His eyes rolling back, as he felt his balls twitch, pumping through the earth shattering orgasm calling out her name as he looked down at her warm face, her head nodding to him as she gripped his body pulling him to her welcoming all of what he could give until he could no more, Damian drove into her body until he gave out. Milked dry by the only woman he ever loved, feeling her wet tears wet his cheeks, as she pulled him tight against her as their bodies relaxed into one. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out, instead they stayed in the middle of the bed they once shared and mourned the life they could’ve had together.

Tagged: @damirae-smut-week

#damirae #damian x raven smut #damirae smut #raven x damian smut #damian x raven #demonbirds #robrae smut #robrae

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nevermore-the-kitsune · 3 years

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Pokemon Teams for Fictional Characters pt. 2

Damian Wayne

(Also, I'm not including move sets because in my headcannon Pokemon do remember all their old moves. But humans choose to only use four)

For this AU I'm having the Wayne's own the Gotham City Gym, which specializes in Dark types. Most of the cannon events still happened. Just with a few tweaks here and there. (Dick's 20, Jason's 16, Cass is 15 Tim's 15 but younger than Cass and Damian's 13 because I love AUs where there closer in age).

Anyway here we go!

First things first in the Pokemon Universe his alias wouldn't be Robin since they don't exist. Instead I think it would be Rookidee, since thats the closest Pokemon to a Robin.

His Partner Pokemon and ace would be a Gligar

Name: Goliath

Gender: Male

Why: Gligar screams Goliath (his Batdragon) plus the coloring of his evolutions matches with Dami's Robin and Batman outfits

Story: He found Goliath while climbing a mountain for his training. At the time he was four and Goliath was a hatching. Damian ended up giving him some food, seeing that the hatching was hungry.

Grateful, the Gligar followed him hoping to return the favor.

When Damian's hand got broken on that same trip, Goliath was the one to help him finish his mission and get home safely.

Talia was impressed that Damian could tame a wild Pokemon without catching it, so she allowed him to keep him as his first Pokemon.

-----

Next he would have a Meowth

Name: Alfred

Gender: Female

Why: This one has to do with its evolution. Persian are said to only be loyal to trainers it likes and that it takes a lot to get them to like you. Their also said to be prissy and uptight. This reminded me of Damian. How it took forever for him to trust his brothers and his own snobby attitude. Thus I think it fits.

Story: After coming to live with his father Damian didn't know how to act. He saw his "brothers" and father treating their Pokemon so different than how the League did. They all trained hard. But, there was something eles: warm praise for a job well done, asking for insight on a case (they had taught their bipedal pokemon sighn language) and comfort on a bad day. His father and brothers treated their Pokemon like... people

In the League Pokemon where the lowest soldier, lower than the slaves or concubines. They trained, ate then they had to and got in their ball.

He had been a little more lenient in his training with Goliath. When asked he said that he was still a baby and he had to take things slow in this stage or he might develop too much muscle mass and be unable to fly.

He had kept him out of his ball with the excuse of developing muscle mass at a proper pace.

He liked Goliath's company. The Gligar was a good companion. But on the same level as another person?

He had expressed these thoughts to Pennyworth, the only person in the house to give him a straight answer when he needed it.

Pennyworth had explained to him that some people love to hold power over others and that Pokemon where an easy target, since they couldn't communicate their emotions as clearly as people could.

"Think of Mistress Cain. She sometimes cannot communicate with words, but we know that she's intelligent. But some people see her as less than intelligent and treat her as such because of the power it gives them."

Two weeks later Damian would come across a group of teenagers attempting to shave a Meowth. The Pokemon was little more than skin and bone and crying out on pain. So, Damian broke their fingers and shaved part of their heads for good measure.

He kept the Meowth and named her after the man who taught him about the abuse of power.

---

Next, a Poochyena

Name: Titus

Gender: Male

Why: These Pokemon and their evolution are ruthless with their pray, and only obey trainers with external skill.

Story: Raven gave Damian Titus as a gift. She said that she rescued him from an underground fighting ring (where the battles are to the death). He was still to young to battle so he didn't need much rehabilitation. The other Pokemon there though...

---

Now we have a Type Null

Name: Heretic

Gender: ???

Why: This Pokemon was created in lab, and artificial designed for the purpose of fighting, just like Damian. True I could have given him Mewtwo, but that cat seems to fit Kon more.

Story: Damian's mother had spent years creating Type: Null with the purpose of being able to kill any target. As a last test she wanted to see which of her creations was suppirrior. So she sent the Type Null out to (try and) kill her son.

Damian, with the rest of his team, beat the Pokemon but couldn't kill it. He had long since vowed to wash the blood from his hands. Instead he offered his hand to it and asked it to join him.

---

Here we have the hardest to explain... Mimikyu

Name: Habibi (I hope I spelled that right)

Gender: Female

Why: Damian is complex, he wants to be accepted and loved just like Mimikyu but dosent know how. Both try to mimic others in order to get that love, Damian his father and Mimikyu Pikachu. So I see this as Damian's spirit Pokemon in a way.

Story: He didn't know why it was so hard to fit in. Gods know he tried. But... little things confused him. Like how eveyone could understand each other without words or singhing. He had no problems with that on a battlefield, but in day to day life; it felt like he was on a separate server.

Like how Todd knew at breakfast with just a look that Drake was in a bad mood and how to help. Or how Grayson could audomadicly tell what kind of day at school the rest of them had withen a few minutes. Hell even Drake could tell what grunts ment what from father! Which ment good job, Which ment I'm glade your okay, or frustration either at them or at a case (Cass didn't surprise him, she had to learn how to communicate without words and watch body language and micro expressions).

School was no better; sometimes it was to load or bright othertimes, when everyone was doing a test, it felt to quiet. But, to much or to little, Damian was always aware of every movement, every sound. It was like the very instincts that saved his life every night where turned against him.

He turned to his nearly forgotten childhood habits to distract himself from everything around him. That only led to more whisper shouting and what even he could tell where displeased glares with a grunt of "fucking tapping" or a snap of "stop!" He knew it was disrupting but it was all be could do to drown out the noise or silence.

On one particularly bad day at school; apparently during one of their tests one of his classmates had had enough of Damian's tapping and decided to make a scene.

There was some yelling from the kid. A few cries in agreement. Before the teacher had gotten hem to settle down. He had demanded that Damian look him in the eye and when he finally did told him to stop with the tapping or else he would be sent to the office, Gym Leaders son or not.

He was the last to finish that test where he normally finished first. The silence had been to load!!

After that clusterfuck Damian finally headed home. He had texted Grayson saying that he was meeting a friend somewhere to work on a project and to not pick him up. In truth he didn't want his brother reading what kind of day he had had. He needed some time to himself.

That was how he found himself in a nearby park. It was filled with plenty of sounds that didn't suffocate him and the fall leaves where soothing to his eyes. Damian had Titus out of his ball as company, knowing that the pup loved park walks.

They had been walking for an hour when they came across a box set off just on the edge of the trail. "Free to Good Homes" was written on the side in black sharpie.

No sound was coming from inside, so he assumed that the had all been taken. Until Titus went closer sniffing at the seemingly empty box.

"Pooch Pooch"

"Hmmm... what is is it boy?" He asked as he walked closer to his Pokemon and the Box. Damian hoped he was wrong. It was cruel to leave a baby Pokemon all alone, especially since the weather was getting colder by the day.

Inside the box was in fact a lone Pokemon. At first glance it looked like a Pikachu. But something was off. It looked more like a doll than a living creature. If it wasn't for the small chirps it let out and slight way that it was shivering from the cold Damian would have written it off as a toy. No wonder it got left behind...

Damian reached down and picked up the mystery Pokemon as gently as he could.

"Come on beloved, lets go home."

He tucked the Pokemon in his jacket to warm it up before reaching for his phone to call Grayson for a ride home.

That night Damian locked himself away, even skipped patrol, and spent a sleepless night learning everything he could about his newest Pokemon.

---

That was inspired by this comic

---

Finaly, for his last spot Eevee!!

Name: Omni

Gender: Female

Why: I'm going to have all the Batfam members have an Eeveelution. This branch and the Batfam are both growing consistently. We all have our favorites but we love them all the same. So I think it fits.

Story: Everyone in the family had an Eevee or one of its evolutions. Damian's Father said that Eevee was the Wayne family symbol, it was potential, the ability to become whatever you wanted.

Though it surprised Damian that the Wayne symbol wasn't a Noibat or Noivern (Batman's ace) at first he eventually understood the logic in choosing such a Pokemon to represent the family name. That only made things harder for him being the only one not having one. Did they not truly see him as family?

On the one year anniversary of Damian arriving at The Mannor, his family through a small party. Pennyworth made his favorite foods, The Mannor was decorated in tacky streamers (Graysons' idea) and they watched some of Damian's favorite fims, their Pokemon curled up with them. His father had offered to take the day off from the gym. Until Todd suggested that Damian take on the challengers.

The Gotham gym was part of his heritage. Damian had been training for the day that he could finally help weed out the weak challengers just like his siblings sometimes did (think the battles you do before challenging a gym leader in the games).

On that day, if the challengers agreed to it, their final battle wasn't with Bruce Wayne the Dark Knight but instead his son. Most accepted thinking that it would be an easy win, that they had lucked out in not having to battle one of the stongest Gym Leaders in the League and could still get the Shadow Badge.

Those poor fools.

Damian was only allowed to use Alfred, Titus and Habibi since he used Goliath and Heretic primarily as Rookidee.

Damian fought seven trainers that day in 3v3 fights. Only two of them got the badge.

With the day overwith and the night rising, so did Gothams' protecters.

The night ended with exhausted body's and adrenaline crashes. Damian was ready to slip into a mini coma from the day he had but before he could head upstairs to The Mannor...

"Not so fast baby bat." Graysons' voice called out to him. "We got one more surprise for you."

Damian raised his eyebrow at that. What else could they do? His father came back from the locker rooms where he had been desuiting, it always took him the longest because of his "old man bones" as Todd said.

"Son," his father said "its Wayne tradition to get your first Pokemon when you turn ten years old. I missed that with you." He paused, eyes briefly shifting to the floor before they snapped back on Damian's face. "Luckily there's one tradition we didn't miss. When you've lived at The Mannor for a year or the adoption papers get finalized, I give my children this..."

He pulled a Poke'ball out of his poket and handed to Damian. "Go on son, let them out."

He did

Staring at him was his own Eevee.

---

AN: All of Damian's Pokemon (sans maybe Omni, I'm thinking of leaving her as an Eevee) will eventually evolve. Eventually.

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hydrangeasimagination · 4 years

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Body and Mind

Pro Hero AU - where all the students we’ve seen in the show MHA are accomplished pro heroes well into their 20s.

(not sure if it is an AU or nah but meh -)

Pairing(s): Bakugo Katsuki X Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend popped into your apartment without warning... He came for a very specific reason and you want to find out what that is.

Warning(s): P*rn with a lil’ plot. Body Worship. Comfort s*ex. Swearing. Putting off talking about feelings.

A/N: I was feeling eh so something soft and warm and comforting would be appropriate for this, I was going to do Hitoshi but I might write him later... But for now, I think this is good. It starts off as comfort and then hops straight into the fucky business.

Everyone is consenting and over the age of 18+

"Suki...?"

The call went unanswered, barren back facing the door to the room. Skin marred by jagged scars, a new bruise blooming from the top of his shoulder. The sweet smell of his sweat completely null as the light scent of soap floats around the bed.

Frowning lightly, you tug the damp towel from your head and approach. He didn't come visit without reason, much less without notifying you via text or call of some sort.

He was silent.

Both entering and now.

It was worrying.

"Suki." You tried again, sliding onto your bed.

Katsuki doesn't move, not even the slightest twitch to signify if he was even awake.

But you pressed onward.

Fingertips traced over the raised skin of his scars, touch moving over every single one with reverence. Leaning in, you began to pepper him in kisses, soft hands following the trails left behind.

From bicep to shoulder.

Shoulder to neck.

Neck down to his back.

He's awfully warm under your palms and more and more while you lavish him in your affection.

"Suki...?" The whisper against his shoulder blade was sugary, a silent vy for his attention.

All the while, your hands map out the hard and soft edges of his body, working over every inch of visible skin. Kneading and rubbing along the tensed muscles that fell lax under the warmth you provide. The distinct scent of his sweat is clearer, mixed with something like cinders and ash and smoke.

It'd be apparent he'd just come from work, if the neatly folded pile of his hero costume were anything to stand by.

You didn't know what happened.

You wanted to know.

But he needed this.

Needed you, right now.

It wasn't lost upon you when chills rippled over him, covering his body in goosebumps. He was terribly pliant thus far, but the concern welling slowly in your heart wondered if you should stop.

So instead, you just curl against his back, face nuzzling into his hair.

Maybe this was what he needed instead.

"Oi." The gravel in his voice wasn't lost on you.

He'd never strained it even with all the screaming he did, so something had made it so.

Katsuki finally moved, shifting his built body and pinning you with his weight. It happened so quickly, there was barely time to process it.

The taste of his tongue being stuffed in your mouth, his hands coming to tug at the clothes that you just put on. It was enough to get eyes rolling and back arching, heated palms stroking, groping all over your body as he sucked the breath straight from your lungs with ravenous vigor.

His lips shot down to your neck before you could think to ask what was wrong with him.

"I didn't say stop."

That was how you ended up where you were; bent over and being fucked hard enough to turn you into mush.

With his fingers wrapped up the sheets, small gasps were wrestled from your open mouth as he rutted you into the bed. sharp swat on your ass caused a cry from your lips so loud that it shook through you.

A snarl tore from his lips as his pelvis smacked against your ass, the thickness of his cock spreading you open again and again with every push of his hips.

"Fuck!"

Grip near bruising, he yanked you back by your arm as he bucked his hips forward. The action itself making your eyes roll to the back of your head as a molten heat rushed between your thighs. Tingling heat wrapping around your forearm where his hand was.

"K - Katsuki!" You all but sobbed, gripping desperately at the bed under you for purchase.

"Shh," His hot breath hissed near your ear, "You're gonna wake the whole damn floor up."

Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to stifle the sounds he was eliciting, the mind-numbing pleasure was a shade too much. He knew your body too well and he was too good at touching you and fucking you. The lewd, wet noises of him pushing inside of you again and again filled the air. Coupled with his shuddering gasps and your whimpers, the humid air making his hair stick to his forehead.

The keen that you couldn't hold back shook your frame, a warning, "C - cumming..."

"Cum for me." His voice was filled with reverence, his heaving chest pressing against your back as his thrusts became nearly desperate. "God, please, let me see you -"

The head of his dick curved just right and the wail that slipped strained your vocal chords. You fell boneless under him as stars filled your vision, vaguely feeling a stickiness coating your thighs.

He continued to thrust, despite all your whining and whimpering about sensitivity. Following you into bliss with strained wheeze, the heat of his cum flooded your insides and causing your spent legs to tremble.

"God, I fuckin’ love you." Katsuki muttered, dropping lazy kisses over your shoulder blades and neck.

Snorting, you stretched out under him and gave a small noise as he slowly slipped from you. His mouth continuing to drop over the small bruises that decorated your skin.

"Love you too, Suki."

He rested his head between your shoulder blades, his heartbeat against your back. Squeezing his arms around you, murmuring against your skin, "Thanks... I needed this."

You smiled and just relaxed under him, eyes fluttering at the warmth exuded from him.

"Of course."

Reaching back and stroking the side of his face, you turned slightly to look at him.

Twisting like this was a bit uncomfortable but it was press a small kiss to his forehead. Asking softly, "You know you can talk to me right?"

Katsuki let out a huff, dragging his lips over your shoulder with a long sigh.

"I know."

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jjk-anime-horray · 3 years

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I'm The Real Getou!!!

Suguru Getou x Reader (Jujutsu Kaisen Au)

18 year old Y/N, a not evil but registered curse user knows to stay out of Jujutsu business. However, what can someone do when they stumble across a Jujutsu sorcerer stripped of their powers, and have a ancient spirit imposter of themselves running around murdering people under there name. Let's just say things get messy very quickly.

Warnings: Strong language, Suggestive themes, and Kenjaku/Psuedo. Reader is Fem! Reader (Sorry).

Premiere/Part One: (Hope you like it)

Waitressing fucking sucks sometimes. You have to work late nights, odd hours, and deal with all sorts of crazy people that you honestly sometimes want to stab with the pen you write down there orders with. However, there was one sole reason why you worked at a late night restaurant/bar, have to deal with perverted men that don't get the point that being friendly is part of your god damn job, and occasionally having to watch drunk people start fist fights with each other:

Tips, and lots of them.

Currently slipping out of the pretty heels you wore to also help with you making said tips you changed out of your work clothes into some joggers, a sweatshirt, and sneakers because honestly who doesn't like comfy clothes.

You know that walking alone at night is usually pretty stupid, however, you also weren't like other girls. But not like pick me bitch I'm not other of girls type "I don't wear make", "I only hang with the bro's", casual misogyny shit. You go on tiktok, cry when any dog dies in movies, and watch whatever the hell you want just like almost anyone else on the planet. The difference between you and the next person over is that if someone tries to mug you, they're getting a black flash or maybe some curse energy embedded keys to the face.

You weren't a jujutsu sorcerer per se, but you did have cursed energy. You were just able to hide it from everyone else because you innate. technique nulls out anyone else's technique activated, and hides your cursed energy because it kind of nulls itself. You don't have a name for it, but it's really useful if you just want to mind your own business.

Street lights completely illuminated the way to your comfy apartment, so you didn't even have to worry about people popping out of dark corners.

But the "AUGHHHGG......HMPH......YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!! BOOM." that you heard followed by completely inhuman noises followed by more cusses, and blasts of cursed energy. That is something you might have to worry about.

And while you would normally just mind your own business and stay clear of the sight like anyone else with common sense, you couldn't in this situation because the obvious signs of conflict were coming out of your apartment building. Great, what could be better than dealing with curses after a brutal shift?

"Oh fuck me why is it always the perfect fucking time" You grumble to yourself.

You quickly run towards the building holding all of your possessions, wanting to prevent the most property damage that was yours as much as you could.

Dashing up the stairs with your backpack bouncing with each step taken.

With more booms coming from even closer to your complex, you dash faster down the walls, and were surprised that more people didn't notice the commotion.

But finally when you made it to your home sweet home, you calmed down as you unlocked your door and flung it open to find it completely as how you left it.

"Phew, at least is wasn't my stuff being smashed."

But before you could even settle in two bodies crashed through the sealing above you down to your apartment. Causing you to have to dive out of the way to avoid being completely crushed, but unfortunately you weren't in complete luck as your legs got partially. trapped under a beam.

The sight in front of you was something to behold. A faceless curse pinned down a raven haired man, and started to morph him?

Getou's POV:

When I felt a surge of cursed energy being release about a half hour ago I had no Idea it would spiral into this madness.

Now currently I was in a full fist fight with a faceless curse? that was so strong it put my special grade status to shame.

Why a fist fight you may ask? Well that's because it's technique stole my cursed energy, the second it emerged from it's boxed seal that got broken, it latched onto me and drained my powers and became more human.

White, faceless, sexless, with stitches and a tongue on it's forehead it was complexly ugly, but I shouldn't really be thinking about why it's ugly considering that it may have me dead. The weirdest thing was that after it got my cursed energy, and technique. It decided to talk to me. It even fucking introduced itself as Kenjaku. It spoke from the forehead on it's mouth, and proceeded to say this:

"Before you die, I should have you know that your abilities will be sacrificed and used for a great cause. Japan will rule them all."

It lunged at me, throwing the two of us through the floor down a level, as it tried to kill be by absorbing the rest of me. I don't know how he was going to do it, but I knew that I was currently choking the bastard with all of my might trying to get him off me.

But in this position all I can to is pray that I can pry him off of my neck, but when the being transformed it self into me. I couldn't get myself to not look in shock.

Y/N's POV:

You couldn't help but watch in complete utter shock when the white being took the form of the raven haired man underneath him. Everything about it was unnatural. But one thing's for certain, that thing was wrong, and you couldn't just let this happen in your damn apartment.

Looking down to the beam on your leg. Not completely crushing it, but making it stuck, you look around you to find anything you could use as leverage. Scoping the area you see something metallic, a part of a metal pipe! Quickly you use it to pry the wood off of your leg as quickly as you can, relieving some of the pain.

You scrabble from out under the debrie, pushing off all of the pebbles and splinted that adorned your sweatpants. You look over to see the thing and the man still in a stuggle, and the guy clearly losing.

Quickly you rush in with the lead pipe in. hand, and start to use your anger to conjure your cursed energy to imbue it in it.

"Time to die." The now duplicate said over the initial man. "Once I absorb your body, you'll become a complete part of my-"BAMM

The make shift weapon collided with the imposter, sending him across the room, tumbling into the white's wall of the room now covered in dust. Leaving you in-between the man and the thing with the pipe in hand embedded with your energy.

You watched to see the completely formed thing, started to make it's way back to it's feet. Shifting its weight it slowly made its way to i's knees. Unnerving you in the process as it replicated joints that got moved in tumble.

"What sort of low life are you to try to interfere with my--" The imposter stopped itself mid sentence. While speaking it tried to ready an attack (most likely a cursed energy blast of some sort) , but fell short as it realized that it couldn't.

"What did you do to me?!?" The spirit raged angrily in, at its now nulled abilities.

"That's none of your business, and what makes you think I would tell you anyway?"

You knew exactly what you did to him. You see the thing is with your cursed energy, anyone who comes in contact with it cannot activate there own cursed energy until your nulling wears off which varies form person to person. On top of that anyone who touches your body also gets there abilities deactivated as well.

"Well that doesn't matter anyway because I have a back up plan anyway."

"Wait what?"

"GET DOWN"

With that the intial black haired man tackled you to the ground, getting you out of the way as giant vines came crashing through the exterior walls into the heart of the building. Pulling the curse away in a grovey wake, and causing the two of you too crash into the far wall, and small pieces of debris to fall on the both of you.

Shakily you got to move after the crash, but then you immediately halted. Your body being pinned in place by not wood and rock, but muscle and flesh. Quickly your eyes snap to readjust so that you can interpret the sight.

Long muscular legs adorned with baggy pants were wound in-between yours, a solid stomach covered in a black rodlike shirt flung next too yours, and a god like upper body entrapped the rest of your body, and there was no denying that the man was tall and built. The icing on the cake however was the angular, slender eyed, gorgeous face that you finally get to have a good look at panting into your ear from exhaustion.

Slowly with a low grown of discomfort the body connected to yours shifted so that his eyes could meet your gaze head on.

"Are you alright Miss?" He said in a tone as if he wasn't talking to you with both (beefy) arms next to both sides of you head.

"Am I alright? Of course I'm fucking not!!!!"

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fanfiction #x reader #anime #weeb #manga #getou suguru x reader #getou x you #getou suguru

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galaxy-mermaid-musi · 3 years

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@givethispromptatry @sebsterianart @holygoddessofvictory Hi! New installment in that Neverending Heights role reversal AU I started ages ago! It is now known by me as the Neverending Depths au if the tags didn't already give that away.... Sometimes you just have an idea that won't stop yelling at you until you get it written.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

"You know you'll never really catch me." Void teased Techtonic as she dashed to a shadow- and didn't go through.

I didn't know.

She looked back at him with surprise that turned to fear when she realized he was surprised too. "Why-"

I Didn't Know.

Her gaze turned icy when another hero stepped out of the shadows.

"Why are you hesitating?" Null asked Techtonic, "You have her cornered, and I have her escape route blocked. Arrest her already."

I couldn't protect you.

The two stared eachother in the eyes. Void's were begging for a chance, knowing her usual weapon was stashed in the shadow she couldn't access. Techtonic's indecisive and pained, weighing his options.

Null, impatient as ever, pushed past Techtonic and put the cuffs on her himself. He spared a glance at the other hero before dragging her along.

"I-"

"No, I have it. Probably better anyway so I can make sure she stays in custody this time..." Null stated, "Besides, I know her mother will want to have a talk with each of you."

I should've protected you.

Techtonic couldn't believe his eyes.

"Rita, this is Hunter. He used to be assigned to catching you when you had your petty theft phase, but he's been instrumental in your redemption." Lady Shade, Rita's mother and leader of the hero team introduced.

"Oh!" Void, Rita, responded, "I'm sorry I forgot you! But it's nice to meet you again!"

Her smile seemed genuine, not sarcastic, not snarky, not her. This couldn't be happening.

Seeing his reaction, she frowned, "I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. I know the accident was my fault, but please don't be too mad at me."

'Sorry.' 'Please.' She was never this polite.

He shook his head, "I'm not mad at you." Glancing at Lady Shade he knew he had to choose his words carefully. "My mind's just a bit preoccupied with my next assignment! It's going to be a tough one, so my worries may have shown through a bit."

Lady Shade gave a slight nod. He was inthe clear.. for now.

"Ah, alright!" Rita looked relieved, "Mom said you're really smart, so I'm sure you'll figure it out!"

" Indeed he is!" She gave a pointed look to him again, "But he needs time to plan. You know Chris hasn't seen you since you got back. Why don't you go train with him?"

Rita beamed, "That's a great idea!"

"Second door to the left in the west hallway." She said.

"Got it!"

And with that, Mrs. Red and Hunter were alone.

"What-"

She cut him off, "Raven told me you couldn't bring yourself to bring her in."

"I-"

"I don't know what your exact feelings are towards my daughter, Garrison. I know you obviously care for her..." she stepped closer, "But I'll let it slide this once. After all, I know you're a good person. You wouldn't want to hurt her."

"With all due respect, what did you do to her?" He asked.

She smiled like a snake that had just caught a mouse, "I redeemed her, of course! Now she can make up for her mistakes and bring more light to the family legacy! Isn't it wonderful?"

"How?"

"How what? You know specificity is key."

It felt like a trap but he had to know.

"How did you 'redeem' her?"

She hummed, "When I said you were instrumental in the process, I wasn't lying."

He felt a pit form in his stomach, "I never made anything that would-"

Her expression stopped him mid sentence.

"No, you never made anything for that specific purpose." She agreed, "Though it does turn out that when you tinker with the device used to keep out telepaths it can also be used to keep in.. well.. let's call them suggestions. Ideas that you want in someone's mind even if they wouldn't consider them themselves."

"You can't really believe this will stick!"

"Maybe not." She shrugged, "It will certainly last longer if we all play along. You'll do that for me, right?"

He knew his expression gave him away.

She frowned, "We really have to work on your acting." With a sigh she added, "Fine. A bit of a motivator then... If I find you trying to break her back to what she was in any way you'll never work as a hero again. In this city or any."

He knew she was serious. Looking down he said, "I understand."

She put a hand on his shoulder and gave a caring look, "You're doing the right thing."

He gave a shaky nod, "...Right."

With that she left.

And Hunter began planning how to break the brainwashing without her knowing.

#musismuses #neverending heights #neverending heights au #neverending depths

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bidnezz · 3 years

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Revenant [1/5]

Pairings: Magnus/Alec, background Clary/Izzy, mentions of past Magnus/Camille

Rating: Mature

Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Blood and Violence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Clave Politics (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Downworlder Politics, Betrayal, Revenge, Background Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood, Angry Magnus Bane, Light Romance, Mystery, Prophecy, Minor Character Death, lots of death

Summary:

Alec has heard the legends of Magnus Bane. He knows all the tales and he’s read all the records of his downfall. The High Warlock of Brooklyn who became so hungry for power that he began to mistreat the very warlocks who sought his help. It’s been a hundred years since then, and when a sudden rift opening between realms brings an onslaught of lesser demons, so too does it bring Magnus Bane, insatiable and vengeful for the power and people that locked him away in Edom. As newly appointed Head of the New York Institute, it’s Alec’s job to protect the residents of New York from one of the greatest Demons he’s ever faced. Only, he has no idea how, and maybe things aren't what they seem.

Art by the talented: @abby0007

Beta’d by the wonderful: @squiggly-lines-on-a-page

Read on ao3

Something to note: This fic is extremely AU. I've fitted a lot of events that we know to be canon (such as dates of events happening) to fit my story, and the past events happened around the early 1900's, until present canon time. There are also many mentions of blood and wounds and lots of death in the fic, so please be wary if that's a no for you!

Chapter One

Rushing residents and evening traffic fills the bustling streets of New York as the surrounding sky begins to darken with the dusk of the setting sun. Nightlife begins as shadows emerge from the alleyways, and doors that lead to no good open with the creak of bad decisions. The Downworld rises to the occasion, drinks in-hand and smiles plastered. So, too, do the Nephilim of the New York Institute who patrol the streets to keep tabs on those unknowing of the dangers that lurk in the dark.

Alexander Lightwood stands alone, weighted with shoulders heavy and nervous energy surrounding him in his new office.

Head of the Institute.

The words roll around his tongue, foreign in his mouth but synonymous with him now. It feels… odd. But welcome.

A knock brings him back, a light rapping of knuckles on the thick wooden door, followed by ebony hair and dark red lips encasing a grin that could only belong to his sister. “Alec,” she calls, her grin turning wry. “Or should I say Head of the Institute?”

“I’ve seen the position lost to better people than I, let’s not jinx this.”

“People? Yes. Leaders?” Isabelle pauses for effect as she strides towards Alec, a dramatic flair he knows to always expect. “I haven’t seen a leader yet, more deserving than you, dear brother. You can be happy for yourself, Alec. Smile, gloat, live a little. Even in the confines of this tiny room.”

Hard as he tries, Alec can’t reign in the small smile that curves his lips. He won’t gloat, he won’t yell and cheer and celebrate. That’s not him. But he will allow himself to feel pride and happiness in this small moment in time with his sister, and he’ll lock it away as a cherished memory to strengthen their bond. This is a turning point for him, a chance to uphold the Lightwood name and make his parents proud. Finally, a chance for them to see exactly the type of leader they raised, a chance to prove that it was all worth it - will be worth it. A chance for him to look upon his mother’s face and for once see something other than barely concealed disappointment and contempt.

“Hey buddy,” A low rasp calls from the opened door to the office. Jace rests against the curved door frame, arms crossed and wide smile dimpling his cheeks. “Oh,” he starts, adjusting his posture to stand perfectly upright as he offers a small salute to Alec. “I guess I should be more proper in front of our new leader, eh?”

The twinkle in his eyes and the way his smile devolves into a shit-eating grin only pulls a small chuckle from Alec, and he reaches his arm out to grip Jace’s as he’s pulled into a rough, brotherly hug. It’s warm, comforting, and when Isabelle joins in - complete.

Right here, right now… this is the turning point for Alec. No more failing, no more letting anyone down. This is where his new life as a leader begins, where everything he’s worked towards shifts into what it was always meant to be. This is what he was born for.

So then why does it feel so empty?

There's a gnawing inside of his chest, a cavern of muddled introspection and half understanding. The goal was always this, the finish line has been crossed and his direction never clearer. But under the anxiety of being freshly anointed, if Alec were to peel away the layers of doubt and worry until he’s viewing his own satisfied ego, what else would he see? Happiness, of course, to some extent. Nothing more, and nothing less. Unfulfilled pockets inside of him that yearn in wonder, and desire for something more.

A mother’s love, perhaps. To be accepted and finally seen as enough.

Yes. An affirmation from Maryse Lightwood herself, and Alec’s sure he’ll feel that last puzzle piece locked into place. ‘But for now,’ Alec thinks to himself as he watches Isabelle and Jace enraptured in a hilarious conversation no doubt at his expense, ‘I’ve got all I need right in front of me.’

With his day just beginning in the blossoming night, Alec prepares himself for the duties and responsibilities that lie ahead of him.

On the other side of New York as the darkness creeps heavier, something more sinister begins to tear at the fabric that separates their realm from the rest.

---

A chime echoes through the halls of the Institute odd hours later, only a precursor to the dull bang as the wooden doors slam open to reveal a crowd of people in disarray. Alec, bent over a table in the main hall with the city’s layout and a small group of Shadowhunters, turns at the commotion brow raised and senses on alert.

“There’s a demon!” someone in the jumbled mess of bodies hurtling towards Alec proclaims.

“He’s strong - too strong,” another one says with a gasp.

Jace steps forward, hand on the hilt of his seraph blade, the other on his stele. Prepared for battle, ready for a fight. “Where?”

Three voices begin to clamor all at once in a disastrous explanation that prompts Alec to step forward and raise a calming hand in the air. The voices stop, and Jace turns to him with a question at the ready. “One at a time or we won’t get anywhere. You,” Alec points towards the least frantic Shadowhunter of the trio, “what happened?”

The man winces as he takes a step forward, favoring the right side of his body. Red stains his clothes; it paints his pale face and each of his limbs. It’s blood, Alec notes easily, dried and congealing in some spots no doubt from the cold autumn wind on the way back to the Institute, but some of the wounds still bleed fresh. His blond hair is matted to his face with sweat and ichor and his lips are caked with a mixture of all three, none of it enough to hide the burgeoning purple bruises that are blooming on his face. If the man’s body trembles, Alec says nothing of it.

“We were patrolling near Williamsburg,” the man begins, a slow nervous lilt to his voice. “There was an unusual spike in demon activity at dusk. We overheard residents saying it was a minor earthquake, but we didn’t believe that. We suspected it was related to the demons. And it was,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to Alec and the room now filled with curious Shadowhunters. “There was a horde of them, Ravener demons. We thought it was just a basic attack, we didn’t know why they were there, but we prepared to get rid of them anyway. It was in the middle of our fight with the demons that someone else showed up-“

“Magnus Bane!” sputters the man in the middle, specks of red flying from his mouth and smattering the floor. “He’s back. He’s back and he’s here for revenge! That's what he told us!”

A gasp echoes in the silent halls of The Institute, followed by the low thrum of chatter as Shadowhunters begin to talk. To the side, Alec catches Isabelle’s gaze, stony and reserved in thought, but sparking with worry for the day’s sudden turn of events.

“Let’s get you guys cleaned up and healed,” Alec steps forward, stele in hand and iratze on his tongue.

“I-It doesn’t work,” the blond man whispers, shaking his head and peering up at Alec with furrowed brows. “We hid in the alleyways and tried to heal. Perhaps it’s the poison from the ichor, but I suspect it’s tied to the magic that Magnus Bane hit us with that makes our healing runes null.”

More chatter from the crowd of people, louder this time, and Alec nods once before turning to the person on his left. “Clary, see to it that they’re taken care of and bandaged properly. Triple check healing runes and make sure we get a full analysis report on all your findings.” It’s an order given with a tone Alec hopes conveys exactly what he’s thinking. He needs to know what’s causing the iratze’s to not work, he needs to know if it’s just a reaction to the ichor or something altogether more threatening. More than that, however, he needs discretion. Kept under wraps, with only Alec and trusted company to know the answers. With the way Clary keeps his firm gaze and offers a single, silent nod, Alec’s sure she understands.

“Everyone else,” Alec speaks, loud and commanding. “Back to your duties.”

The room pauses, wary and hesitant with the new information discovered and seeping into every conspiracy forming in the back of their minds. They want answers, they want clarity, they want knowledge that Alec doesn’t yet have. Resigned to knowing they won’t get any more than this, they file out slowly with soft whispers and bowed heads towards one another.

It’s only several seconds later when he notices the hesitation spread across the injured Shadowhunter’s faces, a look shared between the three of them. They’re brimming with the words they want to speak, information they’ve withheld, just barely. Only, they’re scared and Alec’s not sure if it’s a result of the situation they’ve just encountered, or the consequences they think they’ll have to face. Quietly, Alec steps towards them and grants a reassuring nod.

“Sir, Magnus Bane-” the Shadowhunter’s words catch in his throat. Alec hasn’t heard this name in years, not since training, and it already feels exhausted. “He didn’t let us leave with our lives for nothing. He gave us a warning.” There’s another pause, ominous in nature and the patience Alec composes himself with is waning thinner and thinner by the second.

“Go on,” Alec presses, voice carefully neutral.

“He wanted us to relay to you that this is a Downworlder affair, and for the Shadowhunters not to meddle unless they’re prepared to begin a war with Edom.”

The words come out in a single breath, rushed and trembling. He suspects it was infinitely more intimidating and terrifying than it sounds coming from three battered and bloodied Shadowhunters, but the message is clear: Don’t get involved.

“Thank you,” Alec finds himself saying, thoughts already trailing into a plan of action, mind already gearing for only two options. The first, to take an observer's role in this newfound issue of Downworld battles. The second, to raise alert to the Clave and begin to fortify the Institute for the foreseeable attack once involvement is inevitable. Or perhaps a third option is available, Alec speculates to himself.

Diplomacy.

There’s very little he knows of Magnus Bane, what scraps of information left of him are withheld in Clave documents. He’ll gather up what he can find, form a case to present to an angry, vengeful Greater Demon, and see if some sort of reasoning can be made.

With a sigh, Alec thumbs away the blooming headache from his temples and heads towards his office, doubt already sprouting up in the corners of his tenuous plans. Nothing is for certain, of course. Who’s to say Magnus Bane will be a reasonable man with the quivering display he left for Alec at the doors of the Institute. The only thing he knows for sure is that he’s going to get to the bottom of what’s going on and take care of it personally, Greater Demon or not, New York is Alec’s city now.

---

Magnus Bane, High Warlock of Brooklyn for decades until his banishment to Edom at the beginning of the 1900’s, was frequently described as a hedonist. Reports on him vary from year to year. Some decades he remained under the radar, shielded from the eyes of the Clave. Others, he became notorious for begetting impish troubles between the classes. The only consistency found in any and all reports of the former High Warlock is the tendency towards extravagance and self-indulgence, with a craving for social gatherings.

Leaning back in his seat, Alec traces a finger along the case of his device and focuses on two words.

High Warlock.

He was obviously well-liked at some point in time, formidable enough to be deemed a worthy leader, and charismatic enough to be seen as an ambassador for other Warlocks. There must have been great strength at his hands, and greater support backing him to attain the level of priority that he gained.

So… what happened?

Power, clearly, and too much of it. The same Warlocks who hoisted him up petitioned to get him banished, cried his name in the streets of Brooklyn and swore his downfall.

And they made it happen.

Warlocks from all parts of New York flocked and rallied towards Brooklyn in hopes of seeing the demise of one Magnus Bane. Clave reports account for groups gathering outside of his apartment, banding together to peel away any protection shields cast up in defense. Among them, a leader: Lorenzo Rey.

The Clave watched from the shadows, vowed to not get involved in affairs they deemed less than worthy, but insisted on documenting it all. And Downworlders are the definition of unworthy in the Clave’s eyes.

There’s a nagging in the back of Alec’s mind, a wonder if anyone tried to help, tried to stop it. If there was another way.

But no, Downworlder affairs need not be meddled in, especially when Shadowhunters were never involved in the first place.

With a sigh, he sets down the reports and rubs at the bridge of his nose. What makes this situation any different? Magnus Bane threatened for Shadowhunters not to get involved. He sent a message back in the form of barely living soldiers who were just doing their duty, a message sent loud, but not so clear.

“Are you going to report this to the Clave?” Isabelle’s voice pierces through his thoughts, and Alec prides himself on only showing a fraction of surprise when he turns to face her.

“Of course I am, Izzy. It’s my duty.”

His sister peers down at him from her spot on the corner of his desk, eyes scrutinizing every emotion that flickers across his face. She doesn’t seem appeased with whatever she finds. “You can wait if you want, Alec. You can see what happens next. Try your plans first and go to the Clave later with your findings.”

Alec scoffs. “And have my position rescinded for failure to uphold the most basic understanding of status? The Clave will know everything I know, because that is what is right. They’ll know the best course of action, because they know Magnus Bane and what he’s capable of.”

Isabelle watches him for several long moments, trying to read for any hint of something to give away any of the thoughts running through Alec’s head. When she receives nothing, she nods and reaches for the handheld with the last report Alec was reading, and holds it in front of herself. She skims the words on the page, traces a slow finger from picture to picture, before settling on one that she sets down in front of Alec with a smile.

“You know, for a Greater Demon who’s here to enact his revenge on the Downworlders, he’s actually quite handsome.” Her lips pull into a smirk, and her eyes await a reaction, but Alec gives her none. He simply shrugs and locks the screen of the handheld. “He was, at least. Who knows what he looks like now after a hundred years in Edom.”

And honestly, the last thing Alec wants to focus on is the physical features of a Demon here to cause chaos. He doesn’t want to think about the picture of Magnus Bane in Clave documents, drink in hand and that perfectly tailored suit fitting his body, smiling at the photographer with his dark-rimmed eyes. It doesn’t matter what Magnus Bane looked like then, or even now. The only thing that matters now is the information he’s managed to scrounge up from every instance of this Demon’s name in Clave history, and how he can use that knowledge to his advantage.

Magnus Bane was cunning, sneaky, and smart in the early 1900’s. He was dangerous then, and Alec’s not going to believe that Edom did anything but magnify that danger after a century of letting his anger fester.

---

Moonlight spills through the windows, casts soft light along the path Alex takes as he makes his way, resigned, towards the infirmary.

The halls of the Institute are sparse with Shadowhunters now gathered in the training hall and library in hopes of strengthening themselves for whatever battle they foresee coming. It’s all for naught, Alec thinks to himself as he recounts the lackluster conversation that transpired between him and his parents just an hour ago, accompanied by Inquisitor Herondale.

“You’re to remain on the outside and cease any and all involvement in these Downworlder... squabbles.” Herondale’s voice had cut sharp and left no room for questions. Squabbles. That’s the extent that the Clave had watered this threat down to. A Greater Demon, capable of stripping away their ability to heal without the use of mundane technology. A Downworld squabble.

“Alec,” his mother’s stern voice had cut in, low and severe, “you need to make it absolutely clear to everyone that they are not to expose themselves to any fight that Magnus Bane chooses to partake in. Any patrolling Shadowhunters are there for one reason, and one reason only. To observe and record.”

Yes, to observe and record. To keep an account of what happened for Clave history. More ammunition for Shadowhunters to keep themselves separated from Downworlders, and information to add to the files of warlocks the Clave already suspects are dangerous. Fuel to the fire, all wrapped up in the innocent guise of history.

It doesn’t sit well with Alec, being a bystander to the havoc a furious Greater Demon might cause. The Clave won’t step in, they won’t be a helping hand in all of this, and Alec hates to sit on the sidelines of what could possibly be the worst decision in the history of the Accords.

But the Clave has the final say on any Shadowhunter involvement in Downworld affairs. The Clave is every bit as responsible as Alec for whatever presides in Brooklyn in the coming days. The Clave doesn’t want to stop Magnus Bane, so why should Alec?

Alec’s fingers wrap around the cool metal of the door handle when he remembers his mother’s face, the expression she wore so unabashedly in front of him. Disappointment so thinly veiled underneath all of that carefully crafted apathy. Disappointment for the way Alec offered his solutions to Inquisitor Herondale? Disappointment in the way Alec questioned the motives of the Clave for hiding in the background when they could find an alternative to be part of the solution? Disappointment in Alec, for becoming Head of the Institute, clearly unprepared and unwelcome by even his own mother?

The smile that graced his mother’s features when he first saw her had been enough for the newly awakened pride inside of him, seeking the tiniest shred of affirmation from his harshest critic. How short-lived it was. How quickly had that pride deflated into embarrassment when he began to speak of the attack from Magnus Bane and his mother’s eye shrouded themselves in disapproval.

Perhaps he could have done something differently today. He could have proceeded with a different plan of action that would have appeased Herondale’s thirst for non-consequential knowledge, if he had only known. But now he does, and though redemption is not far off, it’s going to be an uphill battle.

He’ll do better.

With a steadying breath, Alec pushes open the wooden doors to the infirmary and steps in.

There’s the distinct sterile scent of Iodine, and far more lines of IV that are hooked up than Alec is used to seeing. They’re a back up, mostly, for when an iratze isn’t enough, or the wounds are too infected with ichor to properly heal, but even then…

The click-clack of heels on tile brings his focus to the lithe redhead who steps towards him with pursed lips and a furrowed brow.

“It’s not the ichor,” Clary begins, wasting no time. She’s worked with Alec long enough to know he doesn’t think highly of beating around the bush or dawdling. “I was able to analyze the blood samples enough that I could detect a magical signature on all of them. Bane, of course, but it seems that the magic is keeping the wounds from healing. They’re not re-opening, so to speak, but they aren’t clotting and the stitches I’ve made don’t seem to be helping the process either. They just,” Clary inhales a deep sigh, and expels a shaky breath. “They just bleed. Not enough to drain them completely, but enough to cause substantial blood loss. With how much they’ve already lost and how much more they’re going to lose, they’re going to need several transfusions just to stay alive.”

Alec turns to face one of the Shadowhunters laying on the cold, white bed. There are bandages around his arms, patches of gauze scattered across his body and face and butterfly bandages to keep small wounds closed. But for every bandage, for every strip of white, there’s red that blots it. Small beads of blood that pool at each line of cuts until they brim over and cascade in a slow and steady spill of red that stains the sheets beneath.

Three Shadowhunters in critical care, while not a huge blow, only paves the way for bigger hits in the future if Alec chooses to stand in the way of Magnus Bane. It’s not a risk he’s willing to take, to bet it all on the unknown, to subject the very same people who put him in this position to the torturous death sentence of blood loss.

“What are we going to do, Alec?”

Clary’s voice is soft when she speaks, uncertainty replacing the confidence and assertion he’s so used to hearing. Yes, three Shadowhunters isn’t a big loss, but it’s an omen chilling enough that he doesn’t want to cause panic and worry within the Institute.

“We stay quiet about this. If anyone asks, the ichor and magic is causing a unique reaction that you’re working on a remedy for. They’ll be fine.”

They’ll be fine.

Even to himself, Alec sounds scared.

“Maybe we need to find Magnus Bane, we could talk to him and ask - “

“Ask what?” Alec snaps his attention towards Clary, who frowns up at him.

With a calculated pause, she surveys the room’s occupants. “We can ask him what he’s here for, what he’s trying to gain from this.”

“He wants whoever sealed him away in Edom to pay.”

Clary’s brows crinkle together, and her eyes focus as she undoubtedly tries to recollect any information on Magnus Bane she’s heard of over the years. There’s not much to remember, not much spoken through word of mouth besides cautionary tales and warnings on why Downworlders must always be watched. The real meat of the situation is hidden in the files of cases over the years. Cases that litter Alec’s desk, pages of text that have been ingrained into his mind.

“Maybe we could help him,” She offers, timidly.

“Help him?”

“I know it sounds crazy, us helping a Greater Demon,” Clary begins. “We work on keeping the Downworld in order so to speak, right? We make sure that danger doesn't seep through into mundane territory, and so far it is. We can seek out Magnus Bane, see why he’s after these people, who they are, and what he’s trying to achieve. Maybe… Maybe helping him will bring more peace than leaving him to his own devices.”

Clary’s not wrong, at least to Alec she isn’t. It’s the better option, to help Magnus Bane with whatever mission he’s steering towards so he can be done with it. Get him out of the way before it becomes a bigger issue with the Clave.

But the Clave.

“The Inquisitor doesn’t want that,” Alec explains tersely.

Clary rolls her eyes and wears a common expression of distaste so many around him always do when the Clave is involved. “They aren’t here, Alec. The Clave only cares about the Law, with no regard to how it actually applies to all of our lives in the Institute. You’re our leader now. I understand you report back to the Clave, but they don’t have to know. At least not yet.”

It’s a temptation Alec won’t entertain for longer than a brief second. Going against the Clave is not an option. They’ve been given orders, and he’ll make sure they follow them.

“We will not go-“

Alec’s words are interrupted by the high-pitched ringing of his phone that he answers immediately.

“Isabelle?”

“Alec,” There’s a loud crash that crackles through the receiver of the phone that instantly sets him on high alert. “Alec, he’s here. Magnus Bane, he’s come to Hotel DuMort with an army of demons. You need to come!”

“Hotel DuMort? What are you even doing there, Isabelle? You were told to stay out of this, you shouldn’t be anywhere near other Downworlders with Magnus Bane around!”

“Jace and I came to -“

There’s silence as the phone loses connection, and Alec can’t help the involuntary reaction of slamming his empty fist into one of the unoccupied beds of the infirmary. “Fuck,” he spits out, before shoving the phone into his pocket and making his way towards the door.

“I’m coming with you,” Clary shouts as she rushes to his side.

“You will stay here and stick to the plan, Morgenstern,” Alec grits through his teeth.

“There is no plan, Alec! I’m not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, giving people false hope when I can go with you and help.”

A moment of silence. A moment where Alec feels the heavy thud of his heartbeat in the palms of his hand where his fists are balled so tightly, before he exits the infirmary in quiet anger with Clary trailing behind him.

---

There are screeches and screams that surround the Hotel DuMort as Alec and Clary gather closer. To mundanes, only quiet calm and the sounds of cars honking with idle engines fill the late night streets, but behind the screen of blissful oblivion lies something much darker, something far more inauspicious.

Sparks of red shoot from one of the top floor windows, and Alec and Clary dodge the shards of glass that sprinkle down on them as they search for an entrance. Magic enchants the walls and tingles against Alec’s hand as he pushes through one of the side entrances not blocked off with deadbolts and hanging locks. It would be almost too easy for any mundane to just waltz in, and he’s sure under different circumstances this would be a red-flag for Hotel DuMort’s compliance with the Accords to be taken into question.

The room inside is dark and empty at first glance, but a gasp from Clary and the tip of his boots hitting something raised against the floor shows him that they’re not alone.

A handful of lifeless bodies litter the floor in front of them, surrounded by darkness and sparks of electricity from the light sources that have been shot out and electrical wires exposed. Vampires. Demons. Nothing left alive.

It makes the fear of Jace and his sister being one of these figures all the more real, and he finds the weight of his feet carrying him faster towards the staircase door. Logically, he knows that’s not the case. He’d feel it through their bond if something happened to his parabatai, and he knows that Jace would throw himself into the line of fire first before he let anything happen to Isabelle. With Clary hot on his trail they race up the stairs, stamina and speed rune lighting up and fading quickly with the wave of their steles. It’s only a few quick minutes before they’re paused at the door to the 7th floor, only stopped by the body of a dead vampire blocking the entrance from the other side. With a grunt and a shove, Alec pushes the door open and they step through into a fight that’s already begun.

The sight of vampires greet them; teeth bared, claws sharp and blades in hand fighting off the demons that surround them, ash covering the floor they fight ont. Clary whispers his name, but he doesn’t turn to her, focused critically on the threats in front of them. Alec takes one step forward, close enough to the nearest vampire that he can almost get a word in, before he’s swiped at suddenly by a Ravener demon.

He dodges the first attack with several hurried paces back and reaches for an arrow from his quiver, before the demon fizzles out before his eyes. The final blow in question is dealt by Clary, who heaves a breath and grins at Alec as she pulls her seraph blade back from the fading particles of the dying demon. It’s one miniscule victory short-lived, however, because in its place pour in three more from the broken windows that line the walls. Alec nocks an arrow into his bow quickly and chances a glance towards Clary out of the corner of his eye, who curls her lips back in a grimace and readies for a fight.

Together, they take them out. One after another, an onslaught of demons rush and growl and shriek in attack. None of them get close enough to injure, though all of them try, and it’s not until the remaining few pull back and crawl through the windows that Alec realizes they’re not retreating for the sake of defeat.

“Upstairs,” Alec breathes, ragged. “Isabelle and Jace must be upstairs.”

“The demons are no-doubt being called back by Magnus Bane. We need to get up there.”

A hiss from the side catches their attention, a wounded vampire covered in blood and ichor. “Going up there is a death sentence. Your other Shadowhunters were already doomed before they’d even reach the top floor..”

There’s only a brief look of worry shared between them, before Clary and Alec are racing up the next staircase in search of Isabelle and Jace. Jace isn’t dead, he knows for a fact, but the possibility of Isabelle being injured fuels him up the next flights of stairs that tug at his parabatai bond. They’re close, he can feel Jace and the feelings being pushed through the bond right now. Confusion, anger, worry… Fear.

Fear of Magnus Bane?

They’re close, so close now, and Alec knows he’ll finally get answers to all of the questions and worries pouring through their minds as he and Clary push through that final door that leads them to the top floor of Hotel DuMort.

Relief overcomes him, spreads warmth through his body as he sees the golden blond of Jace’s hair, and his sister right beside him across the room. But it’s replaced, almost immediately, when he spots the scene that surrounds them.

In the middle of the room are two figures, Camille Belcourt who Alec knows to be the leader of the Brooklyn Vampire Clan, and someone he can only presume to be Magnus Bane.The pair of them ensconced in a circle of high red flames that prevent anyone from leaving or entering. There’s a conversation happening inside of it, screaming and yelling from Camille that Alec can’t hear through the roar and heat of fire, and wild gestures from Magnus Bane, whose back is turned to he and Clary.

Scattered around the room are clusters of vampires fighting off the unending horde of demons, unsuccessful in their endeavors. Jace and Isabelle are with them, the crack of his sister’s whip snapping louder than the crackling of fire that licks at Alec as he steps nearer. There’s no way around the fire, no way for them to get any closer even as he and Clary fight their way through the demons rushing towards them.

So they fight, continuously with only precious seconds in between each attack for them to catch their breath and gather their strength, but Alec doesn’t tire as the ichor mingles with the sweat soaking his clothes and coating his skin. He won’t give up until he finds a way to Isabelle and Jace, and he’ll die trying if he has to.

Another demon jumps at him, and this one catches Alec at an angle that his arrow can’t quite reach in time. The knowledge of being cut hits first, followed shortly after by the pain in his shoulder. It stings and burns, not from the fire, but from the magic laced and infused deeply within the demons themselves.

It’s a minor inconvenience, he tells himself as he reaches for the seraph blade holstered to his thigh and jabs it into the back of the demon as he dodges a second attack. It hurts, but it’s nothing he can’t stand, nothing an iratze won’t heal.

It’s a lie he knows to be true. He can feel the magic tingling against his skin where the blood begins to seep from the shallow wound. He’ll be fine for now, at least long enough to get them out of the building and back into the safety of the Institute.

A grunt beside him brings him back into the fight and he turns to see Clary swing her weapon into the skull of the demon closest to her, while kicking another into the fire beside her that consumes the demon with a sizzling crack. It’s almost more effective to use the fire to their advantage, Alec realizes as he and Clary share a knowing look. They change tactics quickly, rushing towards the demons from the outskirts of the room, boots thudding heavily against the hardened exoskeleton of the demons as they rush towards them. The vampires nearby take note, exhausted and battered far more than the two of them, and begin to follow suit.

It’s not long before the flocks of demons that pour into the room fade into a more sparse area of coverage and everyone involved in the small battle can take longer than a moment's breath.

Whispers and speculation fill the silence when only a few demons are left remaining, being fought off by courageous vampires with a sudden need to direct their adrenaline. In the middle of the room the fire howls fiercer, brighter and hotter as Camille and Magnus continue to occupy the center, closer than ever to each other.

There’s discourse, still an argument being had if the curl of the Magnus’ fist and Camille’s bared teeth are anything to go off of. It’s still too loud to hear the topic at hand, something unsettling and stormy brewing between the two, but then suddenly something shifts in Camille’s incensed demeanor.

It’s as if a switch has flipped, as if the anger has evaporated with the heat of the flames, and left in its place a barrage of tears that trickle down her face. She’s frustrated, Alec can see it in the square of her shoulders, but she’s given up the fight to Magnus. Part of him knows it’s not his place to care about the outcome of the events that are unfolding before them, that he has other more pressing matters at hand, such as getting to Jace and Isabelle. But the flames don’t give an inch of slack, and the path to them is blocked almost entirely by dead bodies and debris.

A pale hand reaches up, contrasting shockingly to the deep tan of Magnus’ cheek where it rests, color that Alec can see isn’t just the result of the shadows from the fire. From Alec’s spot behind Magnus, he can’t see the expression he wears or the effect this gesture has on him. What he can see, though, is the tense of his back through the black blazer that fits his body, and the way he straightens out the length of himself when presented with the vulnerability of Camille.

And Camille, for all her false innocence and shrewd manner over the years, seems genuine for once.

With rapt attention, Alec watches every step closer she takes.He can feel rather than hear the staccato click of her heels along the marble floor for every inch of distance she closes. He should look away, he thinks in a moment of polite weakness.

But, no.

This is a deliberate display, a show the two of them are putting on for any Downworlder, Shadowhunter, or Mundane who will watch. And so he does.

He watches, enraptured, as Camille raises herself onto the balls of her feet, black stilettos lifting and pale arms encircling the strong shoulders of the Greater Demon before her. He watches still, as the bright red lipstick that stains her lips also colors Magnus’ cheek and smears against their skin when she ducks her head into the junction of his neck. It’s almost too intimate for him to continue watching, the moment surely too much for them to all be allowed to partake in. It feels sinful, in a way. Alec almost averts his eyes, guiltily casting his gaze downward, when he catches Magnus’ hand reflecting back to him the brightest flames through the rings that adorn the fingers curling into the dark long locks of Camille’s hair.

Most importantly, in his bashfully thorough scrutiny of the scene before him, he watches Magnus’ other hand, unnoticed and dim in the shadows of their two bodies. A hand that ignites a soft blue nearly unseen through the fire, magic that produces a wooden stake to spear straight into the unsuspecting heart laid out before him.

A gasp, a lungful of staggered breathing fills Camille as she cries out in the same silent shock Alec feels vibrating through him. Her body, lithe and slender and her deep burgundy dress darken with color as she twitches and fades before them into slow settling ash on the floor, graceful and beautiful in ways that only the leader of the New York vampire clan could manage. But Alec pays her no mind as her memory slips lower beneath the line of his vision, all the while his eyes remain steadfast on the Demon before him. On Magnus Bane.

The fire lets up minutes later, and the surviving vampires rush towards Camille with their inhuman speed, crying and bemoaning the loss of their leader with wails that echo in the silence now befalling the room. There’s a tug in the pit of his stomach, a pull that he recognizes clearly as his parabatai bond. He should follow it to Jace, to Isabelle and undoubtedly Clary who is likely already with them. He knows, logically, what he should do now. He knows what’s expected of him, and he knows what’s right. And yet…

Now that he knows for certain his siblings are safe, there are more important matters at hand. Like the fact that Magnus Bane now stands in front of him, piercing Alec with golden eyes and the hardened exterior of a Greater Demon who shows no remorse for having just killed someone.

Time seems to move slowly as Magnus lifts a hand and summons a portal, an endless swirl of darkness that will release him from the destruction he’s leaving behind, that will take him further from the answers Alec seeks. Magnus turns then, takes one step into the void and the flow of time accelerates so quickly that in that instant Alec doesn’t realize he’s stepping through the portal with him until the roar of magic deafens him to the sounds of his sister’s call.

#shmb2021 #shadowhunters #malec #malec fanfiction #Magnus x Alec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

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anistarrose · 4 years

Text

Fear The Reaper A Lot, Actually (TAZ Balance AU)

AO3

Summary: In the aftermath of the catastrophe at the Miller Lab, Kravitz strikes a deal with his bounties. Their crimes against death will be forgiven if they can bring in two specific liches for arrest…

But unfortunately, those liches are named Lup and Barry J. Bluejeans.

Characters: Kravitz, Taako, Barry Bluejeans, Angus McDonald, Magnus Burnsides, Merle Highchurch, Noelle | No-3113, The Raven Queen, misc. BoB cameos

Relationships: Taakitz, Angus McDonald & Taako, Barry Bluejeans & Kravitz

I posted the second of three scenes in this chapter on Tumblr in January, not really expecting to continue it at the time, but it was well-received there, and I realized that I actually have a lot more ideas for this AU than I expected! This fic has been in the works for months, and I’m simultaneously so excited, nervous, and relieved to get it out of my mind and into the world.

That said, there is one other person who’s read this fic before, and that’s @fexiled! They’ve been an awesome (and patient) beta reader, and I’m incredibly grateful to them for all their advice, typo-catching, and encouragement!

***

Kravitz couldn’t even begin to fathom what kind of sinister agenda would possibly bring a lich to a train station, but he’d intercepted Barry J. Bluejeans in stranger places than Rockport. If he was after any other bounty, he’d be worried about the nearby masses of civilians on holiday getting caught in the crossfire, or worse, being used as hostages — but with Barry, he never knew what to worry about.

Barry, for his part, didn’t seem fazed by the prospect of facing down the Grim Reaper in a transportation hub staffed entirely by identical clones of Tom Bodett, and he addressed Kravitz calmly and amiably:

“Ah, there you are. Hope you didn’t have a ticket for the Rockport Limited, ‘cause it left a couple minutes ago.”

“I have a magical sapphire scythe that lets me teleport anywhere on the Material or Astral Planes,” Kravitz replied. “Why would I need train tickets?”

Barry chuckled — nervously? Awkwardly? Without a visible face beneath his hood, he was difficult to read. “I dunno, leisure? In case I got on a train and you wanted to follow me, but legally?”

Kravitz narrowed his eyes. Barry was normally talkative for a lich, but today, he seemed especially affable… not to mention unsurprised by Kravitz’s appearance. “Were you expecting me to follow you here?”

“You’ve followed me stranger places,” Barry reminded him. “Graveyards for dragons, necromancy conventions, the actual moon that isn’t just a secret society’s headquarters… point is, I kinda figured the ticket counter at a train station wouldn’t stop you.”

Kravitz adjusted his grip on his scythe, channelling a spark of the Raven Queen’s power to scan the area for magical traps. There were none.

“I don’t have any tricks this time,” Barry promised him, his hooded void of a face still frustratingly impossible to read. “No sabotage, no moon ogres. I just want to talk.”

A pigeon landed on the ground between them, pecking at a dropped sandwich without any acknowledgement of the two undead entities that could each obliterate it in a second.

“Let’s say I humor you, in the interest of not catching an innocent bird in the crossfire,” Kravitz replied. “What would you want to talk about?”

“I’m realizing this isn’t gonna sound that sincere, but… an apology. And a warning.”

“What world do you come from, where it’s appropriate to follow an apology with a threat? Are you going to, I don’t know, imprison my soul if I don’t forgive you?”

“The world I come from has nothing to do with it.” The lights beneath Barry’s hood flickered erratically, but he kept his composure. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for wasting so much of your time. You could be out there stopping evil necromancers, but I’ve been leading you on a wild goose chase for a decade, and I’m genuinely sorry about that. I’m sorry that I can’t do the things I need to do or save the things I need to save without being undead, and making what I can only assume is a gigantic bureaucratic mess for the Astral Plane.”

Kravitz sighed. “Are you hinting that I should just give up forever on chasing you, because you’re not evil? Do you really expect me to believe that, coming from a lich?”

“Well, I wasn’t counting on it, but that would be nice,” Barry admitted. “The thing is, whether you believe me isn’t going to matter a whole lot in… let’s see, at the rate we’re going, I doubt it’ll take much more than a year. You’re gonna have a bigger problem on your hands — and if you want even a slim chance of surviving it, you and your goddess and every plane in this system will need to be prepared.”

Kravitz eyed a clock on the station wall. “Keep making threats like that, and you’ll have thirty seconds to explain yourself before I end this conversation.”

Barry held up his hands. “Wait, wait, let me clarify — that wasn’t me threatening you! That’s me knowing what’s coming, and not wanting to see it obliterate this entire universe! I — I see, now, how that could get misinterpreted — but I promise, I’m not making this up just to mess with you! You have the ability to warn the Astral Plane, to warn the Raven Queen and by extension all the gods in the Celestial Plane, so that they can prepare for this and stand a fighting chance —”

“Excuse me, gentlemen? Is there anything I can help you with?”

A Tom Bodett approached them, completely unfazed by the lich and the reaper staring each other down of the Rockport Limited boarding platform, and Kravitz couldn’t help but wonder how frequently the humble employees of the train station had to deal with the undead making a scene.

“Stay back, mortal!” he shouted, twirling his scythe and jumping between the Barry and the poor, almost certainly underpaid Tom. “This is an arrest of one of the most dangerous death criminals in Faerun —”

But Barry had already vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the faintest wisp of red smoke, and Kravitz held back a curse.

This always happened one way or another, every damn time Kravitz had encountered Barry in the past decade. Barry had been right about one thing — he’d wasted an astronomical amount of Kravitz’s time over the years.

“Well, I guess that takes care of that,” Tom declared brightly, as if he caused distractions that allowed ultrapowerful death criminals to escape justice every day. “He was making quite a scene — any idea what his deal was?”

Kravitz shook his head. “Just a lich playing mind games. As liches are wont to do, you know.”

At least, I hope that’s all Barry is, he thought with a shiver. But if he wants to give me a reason to believe him, then… well, he can do it from a cell in the Eternal Stockade.

***

“Hey, Reaper Man! I’ve got an idea for you!” Taako called out. Something about the gleam in his eye piqued Kravitz’s curiosity, even though hearing out ideas from death criminals was an objectively unwise idea.

“Do tell, then,” Kravitz replied, and the mischievous smile on Taako’s face expanded into a toothy grin.

“You hunt down a lot of different bounties, right? And Lucas and Maureen and Noelle, they can’t possibly be the worst criminals on your naughty list, can they?”

“Naughty list? What is he, Santa?” Magnus snickered. “I guess it is technically still Candlenights…”

“Today has been a Day with a capital D,” Kravitz warned Taako, “and I’m not in the mood to hear an argument about why I should let them go because morality is relative —”

“Cool your collarbones, Skeletor, I may have come here to get the Philosopher’s Stone, but I’m no philosopher. I was just thinking: what if we tracked down one of your bigger bounties for you? You let some harmless death criminals go, we bring you a really evil one in return, you collect a big old bounty and also get to see my charming face again! Doesn’t that deal sound like a winner?”

“In practice, it just sounds like a good way to get double-crossed — but in theory, it would be quite a bargain, I’ll grant you that.” Kravitz mentally ran through his list of bounties, almost immediately focusing on one particular lich that had vexed him for years. “And I have to admit, I’d love nothing more than seeing you three take a crack at bringing in Barry J. Bluejeans —”

The second Barry’s name was uttered, Taako let out a wheezy laugh like a congested elephant, and Magnus and Merle weren’t far behind, guffawing so heartily that they fogged up the insides of their null suit helmets.

“I laughed at that name once just like you, but when you’ve been hunting him for years to no avail, it won’t seem so funny anymore!” Kravitz warned them. “He’s easily in the top five most dangerous liches in Faerun, not to mention the number one most elusive!”

“Barry’s a LICH?!” Magnus chortled, as Merle doubled over clutching his stomach and Taako rolled around on the floor in hysterics.

“All that time in Phandalin, we were at the mercy of an evil undead overlord and we didn’t even know it!” Taako cackled, evidently not too troubled by the revelation. “Fuck, we’re lucky to even be alive!”

That caught Kravitz off guard. “Wait, you’ve met Barry Bluejeans?”

“And lived to tell the tale!” Merle boasted. “We could totally do it again, by the way!”

“Hang on, Merle,” Noelle interrupted. “Was this what you meant earlier? When you said you were friends with a couple of liches?”

Merle blinked. “When did I say that?”

“Never mind.” Noelle sighed, then turned to Kravitz. “There’s gotta be some mistake. Some kinda identity confusion. The Bluejeans I met in Phandalin, he — he was a good man. He tried to keep us hidden while he fought off that awful dwarf, that dwarf that was setting everything on fire as far as the eye could see. Mister Bluejeans was so reassuring, and so brave — if anything, I’d call him a hero, not some horrible undead monster.”

“That doesn’t really sound like our Barry,” Merle said. “He was kind of an ass. Told me to stab myself with a rusty fork.”

As his bounties squabbled among themselves over the true nature of Barry Bluejeans, Kravitz took the opportunity to pray to the Raven Queen.

Your Majesty, if these criminals think they can really track down such a dangerous lich… would taking their offer be the right choice? Or am I about to be scammed?

The reply was immediate, as if the Raven Queen had already been observing the Miller Lab intently and contemplating the situation for herself. I cannot make this decision for you, Kravitz. But I trust your judgement.

Thank you, milady. Kravitz collected himself, and announced his terms.

“I’ll tell you what. One lich isn’t quite enough to sell me on this deal… but two liches would be, especially if the latter of the two hasn’t been detected in over a decade. If you bring me the both of them in the next two months, everyone involved in this whole Miller debacle goes free — but if you fail, I come to collect all your souls. You still up for this deal?”

Magnus looked like he wants to ask for clarification, but before he could get a word out, Taako casually declared:

“Sure, dude, we’re up for it. Who’s the second lich, other than Barry?”

“Her name is Lup, and she was last sensed in the general vicinity of Wave Echo Cave ten years ago,” Kravitz replied with a smile. “That’s all I know about her, so that’s all the information you get, too. Good luck!”

***

“You’ve got two months to capture a couple of liches? And if you don’t, the Grim Reaper will take your souls?!”

“Shh, not so loud!” Magnus hissed, pressing a finger to Angus’s mouth. “Do you want everyone on the moon to hear?”

Angus glanced around the cafeteria. Exempting him and the three Reclaimers, it was completely empty aside from a few discarded, tattered Candlenights decorations. “Have you at least told the Director about this?”

Magnus smiled sheepishly. “Uh, it never seemed like the right time to bring it up.”

“Carey knew because she was there, but she didn’t seem too keen on being the one to break the news,” Taako elaborated. “Can’t say I blame her.”

Angus sighed. “And your new robot friend, Noelle. Is her soul a part of this bargain, too?”

Magnus nodded. “Yeah. We promised her we’d take care of it, so she’s hanging with the Regulators now —”

“And I bet Lucas Miller isn’t even dead after all, is he?”

“Perceptive as ever, Agnes,” Taako confirmed. “Maureen really did die, though. She went back to the Astral Plane.”

Angus took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, a gesture that made him look far older than ten. “No offense, sirs, but why didn’t just gamble with the Grim Reaper for your souls like normal people? You might’ve actually had a chance at succeeding, that way!”

“Huh,” muttered Magnus. “Good question…”

“Yeah, Taako, why didn’t we just gamble for our souls like normal people?” Merle echoed.

Taako shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I just thought that Kravitz guy sounded pretty okay, like he’d give us a reasonable bargain…”

“Reasonable? He made Magnus chop my damn arm off!”

“Arguing isn't going to get us anywhere, sirs,” Angus spoke up. He hoped he was putting on a calm facade, even though his feet were trembling in his shoes. “Did Kravitz tell you anything about these liches? Names? Locations of recent sightings?”

“Already jotted down all the details for you, my little man,” Taako answered, handing Angus a single sheet of paper. “Didn’t want to forget anything that would help you work your boy detective magic.”

“As if you could ever forget Barry Bluejeans!” Magnus scoffed.

“A lich named Barry Bluejeans? That can’t be right…” Angus took a look at the sheet, titled “Case File” in loopy cursive letters and broken up into two subsections:

Lich #1

Name: Barry Bluejeans

Last seen: The circular glass mistake formerly known as Phandalin, a couple months ago

Weaknesses: Gerblins (unless that was a cunning play so we’d let our guard down), pants that aren’t made of denim, the temptation to party and drink while other people do his job for him

Other information: Used to be Gundren’s bodyguard, and didn’t do a very good job — but who could blame him? That dwarf was an even bigger asshole than he was.

Lich #2

Name: Lup

Last seen: Wave Echo Cave, 10 years ago

Weaknesses: I don’t know, probably holy water or something

Other information: Zilch

Each section was accompanied by an illustration. Barry’s was a cartoonish drawing of a skeleton with jeans, glasses, and a mullet, while Lup’s was simply a series of question marks. At the bottom of the page, Taako had written: Now have at it, Caleb Cleveland Junior!

“…You really have a lot of faith in me, don’t you, sirs?” Angus asked quietly.

Taako shrugged awkwardly, as Magnus replied:

“Well, we know you’re way better at this than us. And you know that’s not exactly a high bar to clear, but you’re obviously our best shot.”

Angus took a deep breath. “Do you remember the reaper’s exact terms? Were there any loopholes we could exploit?”

“Were there?” Magnus mused, tugging at one of his sideburns. “Does anyone remember what he said?”

“Why are you looking at me?” Merle asked, prompting a laugh from Taako.

“Well, in that case…” Angus took a deep breath. “I guess I’ll interview Carey and Noelle to make sure we’re not missing anything, but we shouldn’t count on being able to cheat the deal. Do you think we could book a transport sphere down to Wave Echo Cave tomorrow morning, to go search for leads?”

“Should be no problem,” Taako told him. “Back to our old stomping grounds! I can hardly wait!”

“Reliving our old mistakes! Hooray!” Merle cheered sarcastically, and with that, the Reclaimers all sauntered back to their dorms with easygoing attitudes that Angus could hardly believe.

How are you all so cavalier about dying? he thought. How can you bear to joke about this situation?

And what will I do, if I can’t help you find these liches?

***

Notes:

I really appreciate people commenting on/reblogging this fic, especially for this first chapter! There's absolutely no obligation to do so, of course, but it would mean a lot <3

For what might be the first time in my life, I already have a surplus of chapters written, so the update schedule should remain consistent for at least a month or two (fingers crossed). Since this chapter was on the shorter side and included a scene I posted months ago, I think I’ll post Chapter 2 in a week, then switch to updating every other week from Chapter 3 onwards. (Probably still on Tuesday evenings, plus or minus 24 hours.)

Also, I’d just like to give a shoutout to Angus McDonald for always, always ending up with a bigger role in my fics than I expect when I start writing! But I’m glad he managed to sneak his way into this one, because there’s a bunch more Angus scenes coming up that I can’t imagine this fic without!

#taz #taz balance #taakitz #taako taaco #kravitz taz #barry bluejeans #magnus burnsides #merle highchurch #no-3113 #lup taaco #the raven queen #taz balance spoilers #rosalia writes fic #fic: FTRALA

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lifeinyokohama · 3 years

Text

CONTEXTE

Yokohama, 2052

Cette ville a toujours été fragile, si bien que l'injustice et la corruption s'y sont naturellement installées. Les citoyens vivant dans l'insécurité ont fui la ville et ceux qui ne pouvaient pas partir ont commencé à détester le gouvernement. Ils désiraient se rebeller contre lui et souhaitaient surtout que la justice devienne impartiale et plus équitable. C'est ainsi que cinq grandes familles de Yakuza ont pris le contrôle de cinq secteurs éparpillés dans Yokohama, poussant les civils à réaliser leurs désirs.

Le gouvernement démunis et incapable d'endiguer seul cette criminalité croissante a décidé d'employer les grands moyens. Pour se faire, il mit en place une ultime organisation spéciale appelée "Red Raven". Agissant dans l'ombre, ces redoutables agents du gouvernement que l'on surnomme les "bourreaux" dépendent de l'autorité publique et surgissent de nulle-part pour faire régner l'ordre. Chacun d'entre eux disposent d'une arme unique qu'ils utilisent pour appliquer leur sentences conformément aux actes perpétrés par les criminels. "Tuer une personne pour en effrayer un millier", telle est leur doctrine pour réprimer le pouvoir grandissant de la mafia japonaise.

Aujourd'hui encore, les habitants de Yokohama se retrouvent au centre d'une lutte sans merci entre les clans de Yakuza et les Red Raven. Quel sera l'avenir de la ville ? Et quel sera ton rôle dans cette histoire ?

#forum rpg #rpg francophone #Avatar manga #anime #Forum #Forum actif #Contexte

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kurtty-drabbles · 4 years

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Pirate au Redone (Part 4)

N/A: I think I´ll have to make a bonus part of this au later. This was a challenge to do and I hope I got it right.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @bamfoftheundead @everykurt @muninandhugin

The ship has the name " Sesame" in big letter and font very eye-appealing and one lonely woman is watching the sky- seeing the birds flying by near the ship/yacht completely oblivious to the inner turmoil she carries in regards her new life- and the contemplation only stops when the Captain of the ship sits next to her offering her a drink-nothing alcoholic as she promised with a mischievous smile and a wink- and replies. "How life is treating so far, Kwannon?" and the Japanese woman has to pound this question for a minute or two.

"Captain Pryde" she humors the other woman even if she knows that pirates, well, real pirates, don´t have a yacht or aren´t so heroic as she´s lead to believe. "I have issues with Krakoa but I´m also ...thankfully for that abomination...look" she gestures her own hands and Captain Pryde follows the motion with her eyes calmly. "I´ve my body back...I´m not dead nor in some white woman´s body. I´m me again and ...this makes me think..." she trails off and Kitty Pryde encourages her to speak freely.

"I was born with nothing, I die with nothing and now I don´t even have the ''nothing'' anymore...Kitty, does God truly exist, or is this all a cosmic joke for him or her?" Kwannon question plug´s Kitty heart and she can remember a certain mutant who aside from loving piracy (among other things) and whose faith was something Kitty and him could talk freely-even through both have different religions it was also covered with a deeper respect for each other- and Kitty only answeres "I believe there is a God or even Gods...but, trying to understand them is a null point"

Kwannon nods but doesn´t seem to be a topic well- answered for her, yet, she´s gracious enough to change the topic. " You think we can trust her...of all people?" and Kitty narrow her eyes.

"Are you going to call her the pretender?"

"No...I´m just unsure of what to feel about her"

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Getting the title of the sorceress supreme from Dr. Strange is not something that will give any dark pleasure- Dr. Strange was a friend, if nothing else, and while his taste for women can be questionable at best, there´s no real pleasure in getting his tittle now- and Wanda Maximoff donning herself with the famous crimson cape is in agreement with its new master.

Tommy and Billy are working with her-Billy return from the space to learn his "twin" not only is working in a magic school but has some small traces of magic, and Billy, only respond by hugging his twin until the other threats to curse him for all eternity- and her magic school is now a real vision(sometimes, Wanda chuckles at this word. Sometimes, Wanda cries) with demons kids from Limbo and other parts of the globe or planes wanting safe heaven to learn magic.

The X-men used to be like that...or am I wrong?

The Sesame´s flag is in view and Wanda shakes her nostalgia away ("let the past in the past, Wanda") and is there watching as Captain Pryde is present and the one who is making an effort to go talk with Wanda-the rest of the crew looks unsure, she de-powered them not too long ago and not everyone is forgiving nor forgiving means friendship- and the two woman are now facing each other.

"You really are here..." Wanda´s tone is laced with surprise as she watches the yacht on the port and back to the captain. "Afraid of me?" she asked still impressed.

"I´m really here...Am I afraid of you? No, not really Wanda...Yet, I can´t ignore M day, I´d not blame you...in the full extension the others do...you were out of your mind and others try to take advantage...still, I won´t call you the pretender or any shit like that" Kitty responds with honest and while she´s never one to use swear words- and is something Terry Pryde installed on her since a young age- she feels this is an appropriate moment to use it.

Wanda only nods at her words. It is much better than she was expecting or hoping for. "Do you really want to do this? Krakoa isn´t supposed to be a paradise to all mutants?"

"The paradise is more for horror island than anything else...and while I think Utopia is still a pretentious name...is better than a cult on an alive island...Can you help us, Scarlet Witch?" Kitty asked sincerely now. Nothing is bounding Scarlet Witch to do this task.

Wanda closes her eyes and opens with now crimson. "I´m Scarlet Witch for a reason...and I´m sorry...for what the Avengers did"

"Apologies from them mean next to nothing"

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Kurt Wagner noticed the absence of Logan, Scott, Jean, and even Ororo and is surrounded by people who in the past-and, not a too long past- were his enemies. Looking at Apocalypse gazing at him with wraith in his eyes mixed with envy does make his stomach rumble. Prof X is speaking and to be frankly, Kurt is not interested in listening any more.

"This is a cult!" Kurt shouts ignoring Raven´s look- the woman may have given birth to him, but, she´s far from being a mother in any sense- and looks in disgust to the villains on the quiet council. "There´s only villains here. What type of paradise is this?"

And Prof X put an uncanny smile on his face-still wearing that helmet and Magneto is close by. As always- as he speaks in a leery way. "And that wouldn´t make you a villain as well? I know...I know what you did in some other universes. Nate may have used you as an avatar to live his wet dream, but, in other realities, you make you with a woman in front of your dead daughter´s cold corpse" and show the image to Kurt who denies this as being a trick.

"I´m not a monster. I´m not like this. I´m Kurt Wagner...and I refuse to be on this island" and tries to attack Prof X and is only meet with vines wrapped around his waist.

"Do you miss Kitty Pryde that much or are you just lonely?" Prof X sounds different now. "Because...I never thought you´re worth her time" and his golden eyes watch as each member on the clan is nothing more but vines. And Krakoa has made her decision to reject Kurt.

Sesame managed to fish Kurt Wagner with a bit help of luck- Kurt opens his golden eyes to see Kitty Pryde staring at him with a myriad of expressions. Concern is one of them- and Kurt breaks down crying as Kitty only hugs him.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Doug Ramsey is not one to think of himself as a James Bond type of spy or archetype, yet, Captain Britain aka Betsy counts on him and Doug wants to do something, anything to help his fellow mutants. Doug uses his power unashamed and telepathically calls Betsy.

"We have to take as many mutants we can..." his eyes are watching the scene incredulous. "That story of Dr. Moira being a mutant? Well...is fake as much everything else in this island" and the call ends with Doug looking at the clones of every single X-men and the versions of Dr. Moira...It has the words written "the last clone" and it sends a shiver to his spine as the clone opens her eyes and speaks one line.

"I´m a mutant, just like you" and the others continue to do so.

__________________________________________________________________________________________

Queen Lilandra is looking at the New Mutants with a stoic expression enrobing her face and body language as well- The X-men aren´t enemies, per se, but aren´t allies and Queen Lilandra has a daughter she wants to prevent the X-men to ever meet- and Karma is the one to break the silence again.

"Where is Pheonix?"

"What do you mean? Pheonix has never left Earth...."

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Captain Britan and the Neo Excalibur are working to smuggle as many mutants they can from Krakoa- Doug can only calm the island for so long as he repeats his words to Neo Excalibur-and Rogue and Remy are running from the time. "Are they the real thing or ..." Rogue will later wonder if she jinxed this rescue mission as a good part of the mutants rescued...turned into green goo.

And Betsy takes a whiff in the air and screams. "Fire!" and Neo Excalibur runs away in their ship as Rogue can swear the shape of the fire is similar to...

No...it can´t be...

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

Madeline Pryor concludes her tale many days ago, yet, still feels as if is lingering on Scott and Jean´s mind and Jean is the one not taking the news well-the resistance against Krakoa is ever surprised to see Jean and Madeline in a semi civil way- as the New Mutants confirm Madeline´s tale and everything else.

"So...this is all because I´m a bad mother?" Jean asked almost laughing -not a joyful one, rather one devoid of any positive emotion- and Madeline is not taking pity on Jean.

"Is a way to see things...Look, I´m not the greatest example either...Nate became a monster" Madeline´s expression softened a little. She can feel sorry for Meggan if nothing else-she, among all the members of the resistance, can understand how cruel truly is when someone takes your ability to do anything for their own gain- and she continues not bothering to look at Jean. "You thought Nate as your own and ignored your own daughter...yet, Scott is the only one who seems to still remember her"

Jean says nothing as she watches Scott and Kitty talk -whatever is about Utopia or how to deal with Krakoa is not important right now- and she wonders why she never bothers to check on Rachel Grey.

Thanks to Scarlet Witch, Utopia is back and unlike Krakoa there´s a chance of organic change into a real country-Emma Frost is taking diplomacy like a fish to the water and all the surviving mutants have no more complaints in regards Scarlet Witch, at least, it appears so- and Captain Pryde looks at Nightcrawler who looks still befuddled by everything, yet, refuses to leave Kitty behind.

If Pheonix wants a fight...she´ll get one...but if Rachel wants revenge...can I give this to her?

#Pirate au redone au #kitty pryde #madeline pryor #Jean Grey #wanda maximoff #doug ramsey #Kurt Wanger #Kurtty yet #Scott Summers #I thought in the NEO scene for Moira #Which means the real Moira is dead #Sorry but is kinder than canon was to her #Rogue #Betsy Braddock #Utopia is back and is still a pretentious name #The Pheonix

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