#you killed two dark lords but you’ll never be able to hurt me my pet

[vespertine-legacy]

#a look for tulia #going to zhorrid's funeral #on jadus's arm

oh. okay. that's fine. everything is fine.

#and there probably isn't any enquiry into her death #or even if there is it ends with acina congratulating/thanking her

this is fine. i'm okay with the events currently unfolding. Tulia definitely didn't just lose the last tattered fragment of her soul when she demurely accepted Acina's praise and gratitude.

You’re welcome

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 1

So I’ve been hanging out with @studionovella​ and the team for @nightmare-castle​, and the sheer talent in their discord server is so amazing. It led me to be inspired, and while I’m typically more of a Sanscest writer, I figured that it’d be fun to try something new considering the source of my inspiration! So have some Nightmare x MC (Nightmare x Reader).

Be warned, this story handles blindness and... probably some other sensitive topics considering it’s me. So just watch the tags for any relevant triggers!

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You didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow you had fallen for Nightmare. On the surface he was cold, cruel, and calculating, using everyone he could to advance his goals. But if you could tolerate the coldness, get past his clinical treatment of those he believed were beneath him, then there was so much more to him. Nightmare was a scholar, a brilliant mind with a vision for a world all his own. He appreciated the arts, often enjoying his downtime with a good book and a calming cup of tea. And believe it or not, there was a small part of him that genuinely cared for the skeletons under his charge. You’ve seen that side of him more than most, managing to open even his eye to what was hidden beneath the centuries of anger and hatred.

Even if negativity was still a large part of who he was, you found yourself able to accept that darkness, because it only made the small lights within him shine brighter. Just like the stars the two of you were gazing at. Though as your gaze shifted to the skeleton currently dominating your thoughts, you found that piercing cyan eye of his locked onto you instead of the sky. If there was ever any doubt in your mind that your feelings were reciprocated, one look at his gaze would sweep it all away. There was a tenderness to him, reserved only for you as he would say. It was only in these moments where the two of you were alone that he would let his imposing demeanor slide.

Getting moments to yourselves was easier said than done though. Despite the sheer size of the castle, the others always seemed to be around. They knew how Nightmare favoured you, how he treated you special and wasn’t as harsh. You were pretty sure that they’d managed to piece everything together on their own, even if none of them ever said anything for fear of angering their king. That said, some of them, namely Killer, seemed to delight in getting in the way of your fleeting moments alone. And there was always no shortage of work to be done, not when your partner was as ambitious as he was. Nightmare aimed to create an empire, and you were doing what you could to further his goals. Even if all that work and Killer’s interference left you and Nightmare fleeing to other worlds in order to have some semblance of a relationship.

Outertale was a favourite destination of yours, the beauty of the cosmos always taking your breath away. It always seemed so far removed from the chaos of the multiverse, or the chaos of the castle.The peace and quiet out here made it perfect for when both you and your partner just needed a break. You could stand out here for hours, watching the subtle shifts in the sky or mapping constellations.

But for now, you were seemingly locked in a staring contest with the lord of darkness, neither willing to look away or break the silence that had fallen. Unsure of what to do, you simply reached out with your finger and booped the tip of his nose. The look of utter surprise on his face left you giggling, only for his own rich laughter to mingle with yours.

“You dare to lay a hand on the God of Negativity, hmm?” He teased, pulling you close with his tentacles before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You are either very brave or very foolish… maybe a bit of both. How shall I deal with your crime, my little moon?”

You couldn’t help but swoon a bit at the pet name he called you, grinning up at him like a fool as you took advantage of the close proximity to snuggle close. “I could swear my love to you, would that appease the great Nightmare?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, the distance closing between the two of you even further as he ducked his head down to be level with your own. Nightmare opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else or to move in for the kiss you were anticipating. Before either option could happen though, the dark skeleton froze for a split second. There wasn’t even time to ask what was wrong before you found yourself hefted into his arms, the two of you dodging a volley of bright blue arrows that had speared where you’d been moments ago.

Your heart hammered in your throat, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. Nightmare still had you cradled to his chest, dodging arrows and… was that paint? Following the paint’s trajectory, you could see your partner’s enemies had managed to crash your little date.

The Star Sanses stood on the other end of the floating chunk of rock you were on, the portal they’d used to arrive closing behind them. Blue was just coming through the portal, his gaster blaster hammer in his grip. Dream had another arrow ready to fire, though he hesitated upon seeing you staring back at him. Ink on the other hand wasted no time in splattering more of his paints everywhere, a tentacle raising to block you from the oncoming attack. The paint hissed and fizzled on contact, a growl leaving Nightmare as he jumped to another nearby rock to escape the barrage.

“Night, are you okay?!” You look up to see him trying to hide his pain, showing you that those paints are far more than something to be smeared on a piece of paper. While you’d heard stories from the others about the chaotic creator, you’d never met him in person or seen him fight. Seeing that paint flying towards you was way scarier than the guys’ stories had led you to believe.

“I’ll be fine,” Nightmare insisted as he set you down, even if you knew that attack hurt. “Look, you need to remain here where you’ll be safe. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been partaking in with the others; I refuse to let you endanger yourself by fighting them. Ink especially is dangerous, keep away from him at all costs. If you cannot dodge his attacks, make sure to shield your face. His paint can burn like acid if he wishes, and while liquid negativity protects my body, you have no such defenses. Give me your word that you will remain safe while I deal with these pests.”

As much as you wanted to argue that you could help, even you couldn’t muster the confidence to speak against him with such a stern glare directed at you. It was clear that Nightmare wouldn’t take no for an answer on this one, so you had no choice but to nod your head meekly. “I-I’ll stay here,” you promised, glancing up to see him seemingly satisfied. Without another word, he rushed off, preventing Blue from getting any closer with his large hammer.

Watching Nightmare take on all three of the Star Sanses by himself was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, much like the first times you’d joined sparring sessions with the guys. But there wasn’t the assurance in the back of your mind that nobody would be out to kill you. While it might not be the goals of all of the Stars, there was very much mortal danger in this fight for both you and the one you loved. Staying on the sidelines like this was painful, leaving you feeling useless as Nightmare struggled to hold off the onslaught.

Were they not essentially your enemies, you’d be impressed by the coordination and teamwork the Stars possessed. All three of them were capable of both melee and ranged attacks, and wordlessly organized themselves so that one of their own was never in danger of being hit by their own attacks. Dream’s precision with his arrows allowed him to stay primarily a ranged fighter, while Blue’s blasters and Ink’s attacks were a bit too widespread to risk while one of them fought in close combat. Nightmare was the only one without a specific ranged attack, which probably explained why the others rarely got close to attack. Your lover’s tentacles gave him reach though, and the ability to hit multiple targets at once, so he was somehow able to hold his own against all three.

The battle looked to be a stalemate… until one of the Stars suddenly switched tactics. While Blue rushed in with a hammer and bones at his side, Ink actually turned his back on the fight. He seemed a little lost, like he was trying to remember something, only for his eyes to light up as he locked gazes with you. Instant panic seized you as the one skeleton that Nightmare warned you about came straight for you, manic glee plastered over his face as he quickly crossed the distance between the two of you. A glance back at the battle proved that Nightmare had seen what was going on, but Blue was keeping him from coming to your aid. So it was up to you to think fast and avoid the creator, hope bubbling in you that this might actually make things easier. If you could keep Ink busy by dodging his attacks, then Nightmare might be able to take on the remaining two with better success before coming after Ink.

With this admittedly crazy plan in your head, you began a game of cat and mouse with Ink, jumping from one place to the next. If you didn’t have a splash-happy maniac chasing you, it would’ve been cool to enjoy the low gravity of Outertale. For now though, it was all that was allowing you to escape most of the attacks directed at you. You were far from unscathed though, small splashes of paint eating away at your arms and legs. It burned, but was nothing you couldn’t deal with as you continued to dodge and weave the bulk of the attacks. So long as none of it touched your face, you would be fine.

Glancing back at the main battle going on, your hopes of Nightmare doing better against two targets instead of three were steadily being crushed. He seemed distracted, constantly looking up to watch you kite Ink around the area. Instead of focusing on the two he had to deal with, he was so worried about you and Ink that he was now losing. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was facing off against Ink and Blue, because there was little the two could do beyond superficial damage. Dream on the other hand was still very much a threat, his arrows of pure positivity being about the only thing that could seriously hurt. And you could see several piercing the ground, coated in the black negativity that Nightmare relied on for protection. It was a surefire way to see when he’d been hit, and the staggering amount of these soiled arrows made it clear that your partner wasn’t holding his own anymore. Guilt welled up in you, because you were the reason he was now losing this fight. While there wasn’t much you could honestly do to shake Ink from your trail, reason did little to quell the negativity rising inside you. All you could hope for was that your own despair could give Nightmare just a bit more power, enough to keep himself safe at least.

As time dragged on, both you and Nightmare were running out of stamina. Your legs cried for rest as you continued to run away from the creator, while your lover’s movements were growing noticeably sluggish. More arrows seemed to connect than not at this point, and he had barely any time to recover from one attack before dealing with another. The two of you were badly losing, and it was quite clear now why Nightmare rarely let anyone from the castle venture out on their own.

The Stars seemed to sense this sudden weakness in their target, Dream finally stopping his barrage to call out to the one going after you. “Ink! Stop playing around, I need your help!” Help? What help could Ink possibly be? Even his corrosive paints couldn’t breach the surface of Nightmare’s negativity, the only thing that could was Dream’s… oh… oh no.

As the realization hit you, Ink finally gave up his pursuit. “Woo! Looks like my plan actually worked… at least I think this was my plan. Whatever, let’s do this!” Laughing at some untold joke, Ink hopped away from you to return to the large rock that most of the battle had been on. At the same moment though, you felt your legs moving as the horrific reality of their plan hit you. Ink purposefully went after you to distract Nightmare, allowing the others to weaken him enough so that their special attack would hit. The creator might not be able to damage the surface, but if Dream’s arrow ripped through first, then there’d be a narrow window where Nightmare’s greatest defense would be gone. In a single spot he’d be vulnerable, which is why they needed to slow him down enough to ensure their hit would work.

You weren’t going to let that happen. Promise be damned, your soul was screaming at you to protect the one you loved, and you were going to heed its call. The ache in your legs went completely ignored, adrenaline pushing you forward with more speed than you thought you could muster. You needed to be faster though; Ink was already there, and Blue had set about corralling Nightmare to keep him still.

Only a few floating chunks of rock were between you and your beloved now, but you still weren’t fast enough. Panic rose once again as you watched Dream draw back his bowstring, the arrow glimmering faintly in the surrounding darkness. Ink stood ready beside him, the paint coating his brush a dangerous shade of red. That same paint had left such horrible burns along your limbs, and you could only imagine the damage it might do to the weakened god of negativity. With Blue running interference and drawing Nightmare’s attention, it was only a matter of time now.

As your feet touched down on the large space rock, several feet from everyone else, you knew that you were out of time. Nightmare was too absorbed in his fight to hear your warning calls, and it would only alert the two and likely cause them to reset before trying again. This attack would only work once though, because once Nightmare knew of their plan, he wouldn’t let it work a second time. That meant that you had one chance to stop them, especially when you saw that Dream was aiming towards his twin’s soul.

Courage and determination welled within your soul, driving you forward despite the risk you were running straight into. Any number of things could go seriously wrong, but… you couldn’t risk them killing him. Nightmare was the bane of the multiverse to many, but he was everything to you. Gritting your teeth, you timed your steps so that you’d only enter Dream’s field of vision after he fired, preventing them from stopping you and trying again. The second he saw you, the god of positivity’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of shock and horror, his hand reaching out as if he could stop his attack or stop you. His hesitance once again wasn’t present in Ink, the creator wasting no time in flinging the red paint directly after the arrow.

With mere seconds to spare, your outstretched hands made contact with the cool goop that covered Nightmare’s body. All of your momentum and might went into a push, knocking the deity away from the incoming attack. Your lover turned back to look at you the second you made contact, his eye conveying the same shock and horror as Dream’s had when he saw you. All you could do was smile, knowing that you’d managed to save him no matter what danger you’d put yourself in. Nightmare reached out for you just as the arrow whizzed past, its trajectory leaving it slicing past your eyes. Pain bloomed as the minor cuts scratched the outsides of your eyes, but it was nothing compared to what came next. You’d been so concerned about the arrow that you temporarily forgot about Ink. His attack followed as per the Stars’ plan, splattering over the both of you with its acidic effect. The scratches to your eyes had left you temporarily blind, so you weren’t able to see that red paint as it splashed all over your face. The last thing you saw was instead Nightmare, reaching out to you as if to save you from this pain.

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[inkandpen22]

It’s Pretty

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warnings: death, fighting, swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N is newly pregnant and Sirius is over the moon. Then, the unexpected happens.

A/N: I usually post imagines on Mondays, but I wrote this last night and couldn’t wait!

Masterlist

Lounging on the couch with my head in Sirius’s lap, we go over baby names. I’m only less than a handful of months along, so we’re keeping the news a secret until we’re certain it’s safe. The only people who know are Remus and Harry. We told Remus because he’s our oldest friend and Sirius accidentally exploded when Remus came over the other day. The man-made it through from the door and Sirius just let it out. It came as quite a shock to me too and I’m the pregnant one. Harry was planned. We wrote to him asking to be the godfather, it only seems fair. Sirius pushed for Remus for a while, but with his responsibilities to the Order, I felt Harry was the best choice.

Ever since we found out, it’s all Sirius can talk about. When everyone comes over for meetings he has to bite his tongue. I’m afraid the meetings' firewhiskey sessions will perhaps be my worst enemy one day. Sirius loves to blab. Recently, he’s been talking about names all hours of the day and sometimes randomly in the middle of the night. No seriously- no pun intended- he’ll wake me up in the middle of the night when he’s thought of “the most perfect name for the little guy.” We don’t even know if it’s a boy yet.

“Alexi,” I announce for a boy.

Sirius cowers, his face scrunched like a bulldog. “Alexi? What are we Russian?”

“It’s pretty!” I defend.

“I won’t let my son have a pretty name,” he mocks. “It’ll be handsome and strong!”

I roll my eyes. “And Sirius isn’t pretty?”

“It’s majestic,” he corrects.

I hum, “oh! What about Torryn?”

He taps his finger against his chin, pondering it over. “Not too shabby. Better than Alexi...” He remarks slyly. “We always do-”

“We’re not naming it James!” I repeat, yet again. “Let Harry have that one.”

“Fine...” he grumbles, all pouty. “What if it’s a girl?”

“Sheridan,” I answer.

“So now we’re Irish?!” He sighs deeply, resting his head back dramatically on the couch.

“Do you have any bright ideas?!” I challenge playfully.

“Cressida,” he states calmly.

“Cressida...” I repeat, thinking it over.

“You like it?” Sirius smiles, petting my hair gently as he looks down at me.

“Yes actually,” I admit. “It’s pretty!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he laughs, leaning in for a kiss.

The sound of the front door causes Sirius and I to leap up from our position. My heart pounds in my chest. We weren’t expecting visitors today. The sound of footsteps, a series of them, brings me panic. Sirius immediately blocks me from the archway, protecting me. His wand is raised in front of him in one hand and the other grips my hand behind him. Then, Remus and Tonks turn the corner panting.

“Quick! It’s Harry and the other kids!”

“What?!” Sirius and I say in unison.

“They’re... They’re at the ministry!” Remus pants. “The prophecy!”

Sirius curses under his breath and starts down the hall the way they came with our friends. I follow the trio without a second thought.

“You’re not going!” Sirius shouts just before we reach the door.

“I’m coming Sirius!” I yell at my husband.

“Y/N!” He whips around angrily.

Tonks and Remus move aside, creating a clear path between me and my husband.

“I’m not even showing yet!” I defend.

“You’re pregnant!” Sirius reminds sharply.

Tonks gasps, her hand flying up to her mouth. Remus whispers something to her. Probably along the lines of ‘sorry, I couldn’t tell you.’

“And you’re an idiot,” I fire back, stifling my laughter. “Looks like we both have a gamble!”

Sirius rushes down the hall to me and cups my face in his hands pleadingly. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then you should be able to understand why I can’t let you go without me,” I claim quietly, placing my hands over his. “I can’t wait here doing nothing when I know you’re out there risking your life! It’s not just your life Sirius, it’s both of ours. It’s always you and me.”

He exhales deeply, lowering his head as he struggles with the internal debate going through his mind. “Okay,” he mumbles reluctantly. Rushing, he plants a kiss on my lips and takes my hand.

 _____________________________

I sprint to huddle behind a bolder with Ginny beside me. She’s brilliant, I’ll give her that. Granted, I could already tell after hearing her subtle comments at dinner that never failed to make me laugh.

Remus runs into view with Hermione and I take the opportunity to hand over Ginny. “Remus, watch them!”

“Y/N! Where are you going?!” He shouts, leaving the girls hidden to stop me.

“I have to help my husband and godson! I can’t just stand there!” I argue, marching aww.

“No!” He grabs my wrist and yanks me down behind a rock. “Sirius wouldn’t want you to!”

“Since when have I ever listened to him?!” I move to stand.

Remus yanks me back down, much to my annoyance. “You have your child to think about!”

“I am thinking of them!” I hiss at my oldest friend. “I won’t let them grow up without a father!”

His eyes pour into mine, awestruck. It’s highly unlike me to argue with him or anyone who isn’t my husband I suppose. Taking the chance now that he’s a little more compliant, I rise to my feet. Sirius and Harry fight off Lucius on the giant boulder in the center of the room. I run to join them urgently.

“Avada kedavra!”

I halt upon hearing the horrific words echo in the room. My eyes scan the room for the source and I spot Bellatrix towering above the rest of us, a wickedly grin on her face. I follow her eyesight to the center, to my husband. He has an unfamiliar blank stare in his eyes as he peers at Harry. Out of my peripheral vision, Remus runs past me. Before he can reach the pair, Sirius slips away into the archway.

“No!” I scream at the top of my lungs. “No!” I cry.

Kingsley wraps his arms around me, keeping me back. I fight him off, aggressively. “Let go of me!”

“No, no don’t let her win!” He warns in my ear.

I wail as my legs give out on me and I slip to the ground. “No,” I cry toward the ceiling.

“Get her out of here!” Shouts Remus.

I hear Bellatrix’s laugh ringing throughout the room. Something in my snaps and my tears stop altogether. Kingsley reaches to apparate me home, but I snatch my wand off the ground beside me and runoff. I follow Bellatrix out into the crevice she escaped through.

“Y/N!” Everyone calls after me panicked.

“I killed Sirius Black!” The crazy lunatic repeats like a song as she skips through the Ministry. “I killed Sirius Black!”

“You raging bitch!” I yell as I shoot a spell her way and missing.

“Aw cousin-in-law coming to get me?!” She mocks, continuing her celebration.

“Crucio!”

Bellatrix falls to the floor with a yelp. I continue my spell, putting at much focus as I can into her. She flails on the tile in pain, screaming. I wonder if it reminds her of torture in Azkaban. I sure hope it does.

I ease up on the spell, lower my wand to her chest. Catching her breath, she peers at me terrified. As she should be because now I’m the raging bitch. She thinks she’s evil because she was filled with hate. Well, now I’m filled with hate!

Pointing my wand directly at her chest, I smile wickedly at the woman who killed my love. Just two words and everything will be set fair and square.

“Aw, afraid of me now?” I tease with a mocking pout.

“I don’t need a blood traitor feeling sorry for me!” She bites.

I snicker, amused by her pointless insults. Swiftly, I kneel down on the floor beside her, getting in her face. I point my wand at her chest and dig it into the skin intimidatingly. Then, I hit her where I’m certain it will hurt.

“You’ll never be anything more than just another loyal follower,” I remind her smoothly with a smile on my face. “He will never want you. You alone will never be enough for him. You can try everything in your power, but the Dark Lord will never love you.”

She pushes back against my wand. “How dare-”

I slap her hard, causing her face to snap to the side. “Tell me how it feels Bella! Tell me how it feels to be worth nothing in eyes of the person you love! Because I wouldn’t know that feeling! Because unlike you, the man I loved, loved me in return!”

“Go to Hell!” She screams in my face.

“I’ll see you there!” I laugh, leaping to my feet and ready to kill the bitch.

“No Y/N!” I hear Remus shout a distance away.

“What is this?” I hear a sly voice question directly behind me.

I glance over my shoulder to be met with Voldemort. Bellatrix laughs loudly.

“Y/N, it’s been too long,” he smiles wickedly. “You’ve grown up so much!” He pauses for a moment, then his eyes fall to my stomach. “And you’re with child, how wonderful.”

I remain silent, restraining myself from doing something rash. The Dark Lord slithers toward me with a smile. Remus and the others stay back, ready to intervene if necessary, but don’t want to cause anything detrimental.

“You know, it’s not too late to join my ranks,” Voldemort whispers to me as he circles me.

“Never,” I stand my ground, knowing it may cost my life.

“Pity, you have such potential,” he mutters disappointedly, starring into my eyes.

He stays for a moment and I can see the wheels turning in his mind. Reaching up, he brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. Then, he sighs and turns to walk away.

“Aren’t you gonna kill her?!” Bellatrix whines, following after him.

The Dark Lord halts and snaps his attention to her, “are you questioning me?!”

The sound of blasting fire as people arrive through the fireplaces signal Voldemort that he must depart. Voices erupt once they see him for themselves.

Voldemort looks to me. “The honor of being my right hand is always open to you, Y/N,” he purrs before disappearing into a cloud of broken glass.

I fall to my knees, utterly exhausted. Tears well up in my eyes and soon I feel arms around me. I glance to my side and Harry’s head rests on my shoulder. I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around him. His head falls to my lap and he wails. I lean over him, protecting him from the world as I’ve always done. I didn’t just lose a husband, he lost a godfather. The realization hits me hard, we’re each other’s only family now.

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Masterlist

[fanfics4all]

The Worst Year

Request: Yes / No hey!! can you write this for me please? 🥰 it’s draco x best friend reader (PLATONIC PLS), and harry x reader (secret relationship) draco and reader are like brother sister they are always bickering but they care a lot for each other, the reader and harry are in a relationship since 4th year and in 7th when harry goes hunting, the reader is numb like depressed she doesn eat (has loss weight), doesn’t sleep and draco is worried, one day she has a breakdown (really bad) and d is there -like really worried, so she tells him about harry, d is mad and overprotective (like a brother) but comforts her and takes care of her, is always like “please eat something!” “you are so skinny just eat please!!” and they sleep in the same room so he comforts her. and then harry is back, they have an emotional reunion, and draco warns harry “if you hurt her i kill you” or smth like that THANK YOU SO MUCH and sorry if this is so specific!! (feel free to not write everything or none hajaja) ❤️❤️ @starcross16

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1700

Warnings: Not eating, not sleeping, breakdown, just a lot of sadness   

Y/N: Your Name 

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Draco malfoy was my best friend. He was more like a brother to me, and we sure act like brother and sister. So when fourth year came around and I started dating Harry Potter, big brother Draco came out. 

“Have you gone bloody mad?” He asked, storming into my dorm. 

“Good afternoon to you too.” I said rolling my eyes. 

“Tell me what I just heard is simply a rumor.” He said with narrowed eyes. I raised my brow at him confused. 

“Well I can’t read your mind Dray so you better tell me if you wish for me to confirm.” I said. 

“You’re dating Potter?” He growled and I sighed. 

“Honestly Draco, yes I am.” I said and his eyes widened. 

“Then you have gone mad, or he spelled you!” He said and I sighed again. 

“No I haven’t and no he hasn’t. Honestly Draco I’m happy with him.” I said. He stared at me for a bit and then sighed. 

“Why’d it have to be Potter…” He groaned, laying next to me. 

“I know you dislike him, but could you please not try and ruin this for me?” I asked. 

“We’ll see.” He said with a smirk and I rolled my eyes. That was the best I was gonna get. Draco’s bullying got worse and I would beg him to stop. It only started to die down when I started ignoring him. 

When year six came around that summer was the worst of mine and Draco’s lives. Each of us had met the dark lord and he said he would kill the other if we didn’t take his mark. I couldn’t let Draco die, but I didn’t want his mark. I watched as he took the mark to save my life and I felt tears form in my eyes. 

“Your turn dear, take it or watch Draco die.” His sickening voice said. 

“O-Okay.” I stuttered and offered my arm to him. I felt pain run through my body and felt like ice was consuming my blood. The snake and skull formed on my arm and I gulped. Draco took me to his room after and I started crying. 

“Hey, it’s alright love, everything will be alright.” He whispered, holding me close. 

“Harry is going to hate me…” I whispered. 

“He’ll understand.” He whispered back. 

I was with Draco when he almost killed Dumbledor. Luckily Snape stepped in and took the burden. Draco grabbed me and we ran along with the Death Eaters. I was so worried about Harry, but I don’t know if I should risk looking for him. 

“What about Harry?” I asked. 

“Y/N/N, we need to go, we can’t risk staying here anymore.” He said with fear in his eyes.

“But-” 

“I promise you, as soon as we get home I’ll help you sneak a letter to him.” He said and I bit my lip. 

“Alright…” I said and he continued to pull me along. As he promised Draco, help me send Harry a letter. After a few days I received one back. 

‘Dear Y/N, 

I know you are a Death Eater. I saw you on the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore was killed. I saw how scared you were and now I understand. Your life is on  the line and I promise I will free you. However I’m going on a journey to find all of his Horcruxes. I need to destroy all of them before I can kill him and set you free. I won’t be able to send you any more letters and please don’t try and send me any. I don’t know where this will take me, but I must do it. Please be safe. I love you. 

Love always, Harry’

I wouldn’t be seeing Harry any time soon. That thought broke my heart and I started crying. Draco pulled me to him and took the letter from my hands. He read it and held me tighter. 

“It’s alright Y/N/N, you’ll see him again.” He whispered and kissed my head.

Months went by and my depression was only getting worse. I still haven’t heard from Harry, for all I knew he was dead. That thought haunted my mind, never leaving me. I no longer ate or slept, whenever I did I would just have horrible nightmares. At first no one noticed my lack of eating or sleeping, but soon my weight dropped and my bags under my eyes were incredibly dark. Draco was incredibly worried about me. So worried that he started having me share his room with him. That’s when I stopped bothering to get out of bed. 

“Love, I brought you some breakfast.” Draco said, walking in with a tray of food. 

“Not hungry…” I mumbled. He set it on his bedside table and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“Please Y/N, you need to eat.” He begged. 

“What’s the point?” I whispered. 

“Love, please.” He said and turned me to face him. 

“Harry is probably dead, so what’s the point?” I asked and I saw tears start to form in his dull gray eyes. 

“I wish I could prove to you that he isn’t, but I can’t. But if he were here right now he’d be telling you to eat.” He said and I sighed. 

“It doesn’t matter.” I whispered. 

A week later and I still haven’t slept or eaten. Draco was growing more and more worried with each passing day. It was night and my body was so tired that I ended up passing out on Draco’s bed. 

I saw him. Harry. I smiled so bright and rushed over to him. Just as I was about to reach him I was blocked by something. I tried my hardest to push through, but it was no use. 

“Harry!” I shouted, but he didn’t look at me. 

“Harry! Harry!” I shouted over and over. Nothing. Suddenly the Dark Lord appeared and sent an evil smirk my way. 

“You can’t save him.” He said and my eyes widened. 

“Harry! Harry look out! Harry please!” I shouted, begging him to do something. 

“Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort shouted and the spell hit Harry. He fell to the ground as Voldemort laughed. 

I woke up screaming, crying, and sweating. Draco sat up next to me and quickly looked around. He pulled me to him and I continued crying hard. Draco pet my hair and whispered soothing things into my ear. 

“Y/N, it’s alright. Everythings alright. You’re alright.” He said trying to calm me. 

“H-Harry…” I cried. 

“Shhh, I know love, just calm down.” He said. It took awhile, but I finally calmed down. Draco turned me to face him and looked me in my eyes. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked. 

“H-He killed him. He killed him and I couldn’t do anything to stop him…” I said. 

“Hey, I need you to believe me, Harry is alive.” He said. 

“You don’t-” 

“I saw him. Remember when Aunt Bellatrix called me down to check someone they brought in?” He asked and I nodded. 

“It was Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They took my wand and they’re out there right now.” He said. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered. 

“I was worried it would make things worse, but I was wrong.” He said. 

“He’s alive?” I asked and he nodded. I hugged draco and cried a few tears of joy. 

“He’s alive!” I whispered. 

Weeks went by and Draco and I returned to Hogwarts. The war was here and we were in the middle of it. Draco went to get his wand back and I wanted to go with him, but he said it was better if I didn’t. After he retrieved his wand we met up and followed everyone outside. There stood Volemort with all the Death Eaters, but my eyes went to Hagrid and who he was holding. Harry Potter.

“Harry Potter is dead!” Voldemort shouted. I wanted to scream out and cry, but Draco grabbed my hand. 

“Don’t do anything.” He whispered. I knew he was right. If I did anything he would kill me or even Draco. Draco’s parents called for him and mine called for me. Everyone’s eyes were on us and I didn’t know what to do. Draco pulled me along with him and Voldemort gave us both an awkward hug. 

“Well done.” He said and we walked to our parents. I tuned everyone out after that. It wasn’t until I heard Harry’s voice that I tuned back in. I looked over and he was alive! I don’t know how that was possible, but I didn’t care. He was alive. My parents started pulling me along behind the Malfoys, but I escaped their grip. 

“Y/N! What are you doing?” My Father asked. Draco looked at me with wide eyes. 

“I need to go.” I said to him and he nodded. Draco left his Mother’s grip and walked up to me. 

“Then I’ll go with you.” He said and I smiled. He grabbed my hand and the two of us ran back to the action. We fought off a few Death Eaters and Draco made sure to keep me safe. Then it all stopped. I ran out of the castle with Draco following me and there he was. 

“Harry!” I shouted and he looked at me. 

“Y/N!” He called back and we ran to each other. He pulled me to him and kissed me deeply. 

“You’re alright.” I cried and he looked me over. 

“What happened to you?” He asked. 

“She’s been a mess all year, because of you.” Draco said walking up behind me. 

“I’ve been so worried.” I said and he kissed my head. 

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He said and I smiled. 

“I swear Potter if you do anything to hurt you, I’ll kill you myself.” Draco said. 

“Draco!” I hissed and he just smirked. 

“What? I need to watch out for you, clearly.” He said and I gently shoved him. 

“I’d never dream of hurting her.” Harry said. Draco nodded and the two of them shook hands. I doubt they would ever be friends, but at least they can be civil to one another. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @softgamerking @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @accio-rogers​

[rainofaugustsith]

So...I realized that about a year and a half before Echoes of Oblivion, where you go through Satele Shan’s minsdcape to heal her (among other things)..there are a few chapters in The Eternal Wrath where Lana and Viri go through Viri’s mindscape to heal her. In that case it had nothing to do with Valkorion directly, they were healing the damage left from the fact that Viri had five different very strong Force ghosts involuntarily squatting in her brain, and as we know from the Sith Inquisitor story, Force Walking hurts a person on a good day.  Excerpt:

”Viri, sit here. Lana, sit next to her. You need to recite this incantation, exactly as written,” Suvia says, handing Viri a piece of parchment. “It’s written out because datapads short out in here. We found that out the hard way before.” ”HK, hold onto my datapad, and Viri’s, too,” Lana says, handing the device over. “Please wait for us outside.” Viri takes the piece of parchment and studies the High Sith incantation. “So I say this, and…” ”And you’ll take this torch and light the cauldron in front of you. These seeds need to go in the cauldron when you get to line seven. Inhale the fumes and don’t resist when they send you to sleep. Lana, you’ll be able to follow Viri into her dream state and help, but you need to remember that you’re there as a second. She has to take the lead.” ”Understood,” Lana says gravely. ”Can you give me any hints about what will happen in the dream state?” Suvia nods. “Count on fighting some of your most traumatic memories. And yourself. You’ll need to win. If there’s any deep dark secret you don’t want Lana to know, be warned. She’ll see everything.” “That’s fine. I have no secrets from Lana,” Viri says. “Are you ready? We’ll cover you outside the room,” Suvia says. Viri swallows hard. “Thank you for your guidance with this, Suvia. You’re literally saving my life.” ”You restored mine. It’s nothing,” Suvia says, as she leaves the chamber. “Safe travels.” Viri lights the cauldron and settles down before the fire, but hesitates. ”Don’t be afraid,” Lana says softly, rubbing her arm. “I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” Viri says nothing, but turns to embrace her. She’s shaking under her robes. ”I’ve got you. I promise.” ”I love you,” Viri whispers. “Thank you for coming with me.” ”I’d do nothing less,” Lana says. “I love you, Viri. You can do this. You’re the fucking Wrath, damn it.” Viri laughs outright, takes a deep breath, and begins to recite the High Sith incantation. When she reaches the seventh line, she tosses the seeds into the flames. A blue haze begins to fill the room, and both Lana and Viri feel their eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. As Lana slides into unconsciousness, she reaches out to Viri one more time. Safest travels, my love. … Lana’s eyes open to stare at a black sky. Black volcanic rocks cover the ground. Hills of ash surround them. The stink of sulphur chokes the air. Lana blinks as she stands up and looks around. Viri is already battling a ghost; one that looks suspiciously like Darth Baras. Her teeth are bared and she’s railing on her former master with every bit of venom she can muster. As Baras goes down, Nomen Karr rises. And Lord Draahg. And Revan. Arcann. Vaylin. Valkorion. As Valkorion’s illusion falls, a staircase opens beneath Lana and Viri’s feet. The two women run down the steps, spiraling down into Viri’s conscious mind. Around them, people are laughing. Taunting. Accusing. Screaming. Lana hears both friends and foes, and stops short when she recognizes her own voice, and Viri’s, among the cacophony. Every trauma Viri has ever experienced is spilling over them in waves, and tears run down Lana’s cheeks. The stairs lead to a long corridor with open doors, and Viri peers through each of them, seemingly searching for something. ”What – who – are we looking for?” Lana gasps, trying to keep pace with Viri. ”Her,” Viri says, and keeps running.

At the end of the corridor, the two women stop short. A closed door, locked with numerous chains and electric barriers, lurks in an alcove. The void is stronger here. “This is the only door that’s still closed. Is this what we need?” Lana asks. Viri goes pale and backs up. “I can’t go in there.” ”It’s your own mind. Can’t you go where you want?” Viri shakes her head. “Not there. Never there.” Lana sighs. “Do you mind if I have a peek, then?” ”You know I can’t let you go in alone, in case it’s dangerous,” Viri sighs, and heads for the door. “No!” The voice is neither Lana nor Viri’s, but that of a child. A young girl, wearing the uniform robes of the Corellia Sith Intermediate Academy, darts in front of them. Viri. Lana recognizes her instantly. She appears to be eleven, twelve – somewhere in the nebulous preteen age range – and her curly hair is pulled back in a tight bun. A well-used practice blade is strapped to her back. “Vee?” Viri asks in disbelief, staring down at the child. “I don’t know who you are, or why you’re here, but I suggest you go away.” Vee’s eyes flash. Her voice is high and squeaky; Lana has to resist the urge to smile. “And that nickname isn’t yours to use.” ”It’s one of the things your parents call you,” Viri says. ”Yes, and you’re not my parent.” Vee crosses her arms. “Get the hell out of here.” ”Nope,” Viri tells the girl. “Sorry to break the news to you, but I have final authority over this mind. It belongs to me.” ”How dare you tell me I don’t know my own mind!” Vee snaps, drawing her practice blade. ”Oh, put it away, Dragoi,” Viri rolls her eyes and bats the blade out of Vee’s hand. “You’re impossible. Don’t you recognize me?” Vee falters. “You look like me, but…” Viri kneels down and looks into her eyes. “You like girls and boys, but are attracted to none, and that confuses you. You like girls far more, and that’s totally okay. You love your mom and dad more than anything and you’re so proud of their work. You miss Naboo. You go to work with your mom on the weekends, and your favorite animals are sleen and jaggalors. You hate peas. You walk into walls a lot. You got in trouble for dyeing your school robes blue and purple. You’re really happy you’re growing so tall. You—“ Vee stares at her. “You’re me.” ”Yes, I am. I need to get into that room and see whatever we’ve locked away.” “No. You won’t like that room.” ”I’m sure I won’t,” Viri says dryly. “But I still need to go in. Do you have the key?” ”Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Vee sighs, and reaches into her pocket. She hands Viri a stack of keys. ”Which one opens this door?” Viri says, confused. ”All of them. It can’t get out.” ”You locked it up as tightly as you could, didn’t you?” Viri says softly. “It must have really scared you.” Vee puts her chin in the air. “I am to be Sith. Sith do not let their fear rule them. They channel it.” ”You’ve learned your Sith Code, that’s for sure,” Viri smiles as she starts unlocking the door. ”You’re really going in there? Force, no! No! Don’t make me hear it!” Vee screams, covering her ears. ”You don’t have to,” Viri says, conjuring memories of a few of her favorite pets. “I’ll be going in with my wife. You can stay out here with the sleen.” ”Good,” Vee says, running to the animals. “I’ll be over here. If you die in there, don’t blame me.” ”I won’t,” Viri says, and as the final lock falls away, she catches Lana’s eye. ”In we go,” Lana says gravely, grabbing Viri’s hand as they walk through the door. ***

”Viri, we’ve been through the entire fortress,” Lana gasps. “We’ve been here for hours. Who are we looking for?” Viri crouches down and puts her head in her hands. “Myself.” “We’ve run into six versions of Vee here. Three of your adolescent selves. The apprentice. The Wrath. Which memory of you do we still need to find?” ”The one who was – wait. Yes. That’s where we need to go.” Viri pushes on the stones of the corridor, and they fall away. Before them, a platform with a long staircase with a throne looms. ”This is where she was,” Viri explains. “Where she told me to go, when Valkorion shattered my mind. She had absorbed the holocron, so I could find it here. But now she’s – “ "Viri, I'm lost." "Okay. Sorry. Remember when Valkorion seized my mind, and tried to kill my soul? When I was in my own mind, fighting that battle, a version of myself was coaching me along. She told me where to go and what to do. I wouldn't have remembered the holocron otherwise; I was too scattered. But she vanished as soon as I found the holocron and started to fight Valkorion." Lana looks around. “And you think she’s still here?” ”I know she is,” Viri says, searching around the throne. “I feel her here. You take this side; I’ll take this one. We need to find her.” Lana shakes her head, but begins searching the platform. There are signs of a fierce battle – blood, hair that looks suspiciously like Viri’s, pieces of broken armor – but a pale, motionless hand, barely visible behind a rock, makes her scream. ”Viri! Over here!” Viri vaults over the rocks and picks up herself. The version of Viri who lives in her mindscape is battered, bruised and barely alive. Her armor is shredded and her shoulders and arms are bare. ”I’m sorry,” Viri says. “It took us a while to get here.” Mindscape Viri smiles faintly, but is in too much pain to talk. ”Valkorion took a lot out of her – of us. She used every bit of energy she had to help me survive.” Viri strokes her face. ”How do we help her?” Lana asks, kneeling down next to them. ”We heal her, and bring her someplace safe,” Viri says, closing her eyes. The mindscape Viri begins to glow as healing energy surrounds her. Lana puts one hand on each Viri’s back and adds her own mending powers to theirs. Viri rises, carrying her mindscape double in her arms. “She needs to get out of this room. And this room…all of it…needs to go. We’ve already cleaned Valkorion’s damage out of the rest of my mind. This is the last of it.” ”Do you need my help?” Lana asks. ”No, just hold her,” Viri says, passing the double to Lana. “I think I need to do this on my own.” ”May the Force serve you.” ”It will,” Viri says with a smile, marshalling her power and shoving it at the throne. The room explodes around them as Viri attacks it, reducing the platform, steps and throne to dust, and then to nothing. Lana gasps as the ground beneath her disappears, leaving nothing in its wake. ”You’ve got a big block of…well…nothing…here, Viri…” Lana says uncertainly, but in the next moment, the ground around her materializes again. She’s on a lush green lawn, near a waterfall and a small, but beautiful, house. ”Give her back to me,” Viri says, taking her double back from Lana. She walks toward the house. ”No, put me down…let me feel the sun.” Viri nods and conjures a lounge chair for her double, before setting her down gently. ”You’re not trapped in that throne room now,” Viri tells her softly. “You can live here.” ”Naboo,” the mindscape double says, smiling as she looks around. “Thank you.” Viri nods, but as she looks at Lana, she begins to flicker. ”I think our time here is up, love,” Lana says, and grabs Viri’s hand again as the vision goes black. ”Yeah. We did what we needed to.” * ”Wake up.” The stones are cold against Lana’s cheek. She’s back in the Temple of Strength, the room is clear of smoke, and Viri is unconscious in front of the altar. Suvia is kneeling next to them, another torch in her hand. ”You were out for a long time,” Suvia said. ”How long?” Lana asks weakly. ”Five hours.” ”Force alive…” Lana mutters, rushing to Viri’s side. Viri’s eyes are still shadowed, but there is vitality in her face that Lana has not seen in weeks. ”Did she do what she needs to do?” ”Yes. I think so.”

[sincerlypadfoot]

Drummer Boy (8)

Word Count-1.6K

A/N- This book will be ended in a couple chapters, some of you could guess how it’ll end, some may take it as a shock but I hope that the ending is all worth is in the end 

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Unsure of how long I had been running for, I fell to the ground in the forest, rain started and tears fell down my face. The sound of rain took my ears and I felt lonely, everything around me was spinning.

I looked up infront of me, letting out a scream in pain, crying, almost not being able to see anything infront of me, I rolled onto my back looking up at the sky which was darking, everything nowadays was dark.

“Danny,” Dumbledore said with a calm tone. “Get up,” He whispered leaning over me. “Everyone knows your here, they’re waiting for you,” his finger pointed to my right, I turned my head looking at Grimmauld place in the clearing, Molly Weasley stood outside looking at me.

“I think I could just lay here for a minute,” I whispered shaking my head. “I think I broke my ankle,” I admitted, looking down at my swollen ankle. “I went back home, to see Draco, I had to do, but I don’t do the dark lords bidding, I promise, I just needed to see my brother,”

“We know,” Sirius said standing on the other side of me. “Dumbledore, he ugh,” Sirius started saying but was cut off.

“We looked into your mind, we had to see if you were really you, but only us two saw,” Dumbledore said shaking his head.

“How did you do that?” I asked without a care in the world. “Legilimency,” I whispered before they could answer.

“Yes, well you were running, we only looked at what we needed to see,” Sirius was now in my view with his hand pointed down at me. “Come on, i’ll bring you inside, i’m sure there is something we can do for that ankle,”

I hesitated, looking at Sirius’ hand, raising my own and helping myself up with my other hand.

“We’ll have to lock you in the room again, you won’t be able to leave until hogwarts,” Dumbledore said causing my skin to itch.

“I don’t wanna talk about it please,” I whimpered looking at Molly who pulled her hands out and brought me into a hug.

“Don’t leave us again okay,” Molly whispered holding me tight. “Now come in side, everyone's sleeping and i’m sure there is something I can do for that ankle of yours,”

“I won’t, I just panicked and i’m sorry,” I whispered leaning on Sirius as the door opened and we walked along the hallway. 

“And we understand that,” Sirius said leaning his head on my head. “Sit, we can do something,” Molly pulled out a chair and I sat down leaning my head back.

“I will see you in a couple days Danniella, there are some things that I will have to do,” Dumbledore said putting his hand on my shoulder, I looked up at him, then watched him walk away and apparted away.

“Where did you go!?” Hermione yelled out running downstairs after seeing me and hugging me. “You said you weren’t gonna leave,”

“Hermione dear, could you go get us a clothes from the bathroom,” Molly asked relaxing I was uncomfortable. “I understand,” She whispered up at me, waving her wand at my leg.

“You know you won’t be able to leave the house,” Sirius said with a frown, tossing his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, I can help you upstairs,”

I nodded my head, without saying anything, following Sirius up stairs, I let out tiny smiles as everyone looked at Sirius and I, but I kept my head down.

“Goodnight Lia, and i’m sorry again for having to look in your mind, did you really not notice?” Sirius asked opening the door to the room I was staying in.

“I don’t remember half the things I did when I ran away from my house,” I said lowly sitting down on my bed and taking out Cedric's wand. “Do you think we’ll ever be together again?” I asked not looking up.

“I believe,” Sirius paused causing me to look up at him. “Everyone finds their way back together eventually,” Sirius shot me a smile then closed the door.

I frowned at his words, falling back on my bed and looking up at the roof, Cedric's wand was tightly gripped in my hand. I closed my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here.

                                            Five months later

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, my dominate blonde hair was now a dark shade of black, cut to my shoulders, thanks to Hermione who had insisted that a change had to be a order in my life.

“Your packed right?” I heard the devil herself walk into the girls lavatory looking at me, she appeared in the mirror behind me.

“Yeah i’m packed, i’ve been packed since last week, how are the Weasleys doing with their dad?” I asked turning around and facing her, placing my hands on the sink behind me to hold me up.

“Good they’re all gone, I won’t be able to make it there, I could try but since it’s christmas, but your going aren’t you?” Hermione asked looking at my hair. “You know I didn’t think I was much of a hairdresser, i’m glad you let me cut your hair, you look better,”

“Yeah i’ll be going, since I live with Sirius now it’s where the Weasleys are staying,” I turned back around and finished washing my face. “You should come for a night, i’d think it be good, and I think Ron fancies you,”

Hermione let out a snort and walked over to the sink beside me, looking at herself in the mirror.

“You think Ron fancies me now,” Hermione giggled brushing her hair out with her fingers, not with much luck since it was so bushy.

“Yeah, he looks at you the same way I looked at Cedric, trust me, that boy fancies you,” I turned to Hermione and she turned to me. “We should go and grab our stuff, we don’t want the train to leave without us,”

Hermione and I walked out of the bathroom, people still looking at my hair, since Hermione had only done it last night, not many people outside of the common room saw it.

“Danny,” Draco called out, turning a corner and coming to a hult when seeing me. “Can we talk,”

I looked over at Hermione, who nodded her head, then walked passed me, up the stairs going to the common room.

“I’m not coming back home Draco, i’m sorry, it’ll probably be safer for you to stay on the dark lord's side, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you,” Everything that came out of my mouth was like spitting fire, burning the both of our souls.

“You died your hair, black,” Draco's hand went to my hair, running his hands down to my shoulders. “And cut it, we’re twins, we’re supposed to look the same for a reason,” At that moment, cutting my hair seemed like the worst idea in the world, but fire spit in my soul as well.

“Draco you have no control of life, I really have to go, you stay safe now, don’t be dying on me,” My fists clenched uncontrollably as I walked passed Draco, his hands wrapping around my wrist pulling me back.

“He’s gonna kill you, his planning something bad, i’m warning you now because if you stay with those people any longer, they’ll all be dead because of you,” 

“Draco your hurting me,” I whimpered trying to pull my wrist back but his grip only got tighter. “Draco you let me go this instant!” I cried out pulling back more.

“They’ll all die over you, I heard them, your killing them, come home!” His voice broke with every word that came out of his mouth.

“Let her go Malfoy, or a swear, you’ll have more then the you know who to deal with,” Both our heads turn to the twins who stood in the hallway looking at us.

“Fine, my sister would come home,” Draco spat out letting go of my wrist, I backed away towards the twins, scared of my own brother for a moment. “But go ahead, go to your boyfriends, seems like you’ve gotten over Cedric fast,” The fire in my body flamed and rage consumed me.

“And my brother wouldn’t say a thing like that to me!” I screamed moving closer to him, my hands pushed against his chest, knocking him into the nearest wall. “Sooner or later Draco, you’ll know that your on the wrong side, but you’ll follow in mom and dad's footsteps, because you act for their approval, like the good little pet you are to them,” My words spat out then hands wrapped around me, pulling me away from Draco. 

“Come on Danny, he’s not worth it,” Fred whispered pulling me back, both the twins looked at Draco, Georges fists were clenching, staring Draco down.

“Weasleys, having your hands all over my sister, i’m sure that Cedric would approve of them, oh wait, he’s dead, never coming back!”

I tried running forward but Freds grabbed me, pulling me back furter.

“Draco you leave her alone, we all know your cruel but she’s your sister, your just as heartless as you know who, and i’m sure you’d probably not enjoy the sight of yourself if we let Danny go,” George said, placing his foot infront of him, causing Draco to finish.

He quickly turned around, walking back the way he game from, I stood there shocked, that my own brother would say those words to me, or that the twins stood up for me.

“Come on, we’ll walk you back, i’m sure that the train ride to our home will calm you down,” Fred wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my back as we walked, I stayed silent for a moment, thinking back to Draco, and what I had done to deserve a brother as cruel as him

“You boys need to come with me, Miss Malfoy, i’m sure you can walk down to the dungeons and gather your things yourself,” McGonagall chimed, taking the two boys away from me.

I walked by myself, unsure of what trouble the boys had gotten themselves into this time, but just anxious to grab my stuff and leave the nightmare I was in.

[chipper9906]

Bound To You - Chapter 6: Dead Ends

< - - - Previous Chapter

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SEASON 15

NOTE:  Pairings and Ratings Will Change As Story Is Updated

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Chapter Word Count: 9,111 

Overall Word Count: 43,900

Status: Multi Chapter Fic - In Profress (6/?)

Chapter Preview:

Dean could see just how bad of a state the guy was in; dark bruises were littered all over the man’s pale skin, multiple cuts and lacerations decorating every piece of skin Dean could see, oozing out streams of dark blood that stained the button-up shirt of the man’s suit.

‘Jesus… what the hell are they doing to the guy?’

‘That’s not a “guy”, Dean…’

‘Huh?’

‘I recognize the man… that was the last vessel I saw Atheed possessing…’

‘You telling me the Men of Letters managed to trap an angel?’

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Character Key For Telepathic Conversations

'Italic Text' - Castiel

'Bold Text' - Dean

* * *

Dean found himself waking up the next morning to the delicious smell of bacon wafting down the hallway and into his room. It was this – and only this – that convinced Dean to haul himself out of the comfort of his warm bed and pull himself into his chair.

He had only just settled into the chair when there was a light rap of knocks on his bedroom door. He looks up to see Sam poking his head through the gap he cracked open in the door, eyes briefly scanning across the room before landing on Dean.

“Oh, good, you’re up! Thought if the smell of bacon wouldn’t get you of bed, then nothing would…”

“I’m always happy to be woken up for bacon, Sammy.”

Sam glanced at something behind the door, chuckling quietly to himself before returning his attention to Dean. “There’s someone here that’s dying to see you…”

Dean didn’t even have time to ask Sam who he was talking to before Sam opened the door a tad bit wider, giving enough room for a blur of fur to shoot into his room, claws skidding on the concrete floor as Miracle runs to him.

“Hey, girl!” Miracle was jumping excitedly at his wheelchair, desperate to get as close to Dean as possible. It didn’t even seem to faze her that Dean wasn’t quite the same as he was when he left. She just cared he was home.

‘Is… is that a dog?’

‘Yeah! This is Miracle!’

Miracle had managed to get her two front paws atop of Dean’s legs, and Dean got the jarring feeling again when he realized he couldn’t actually feel her weight on his legs. He didn’t have much time to ponder over this as Miracle had reached his face, running her slobbering tongue everywhere she can reach.

“Blegh – Good to see you too, girl.” Dean lightly pushed her away from his face, ruffling his hands along the sides of her face.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” Sam said through his chuckles, backing out from the doorway and disappearing down the hallway. “Breakfasts waiting – don’t let it go cold!”

‘Oh - this was the surprise you were talking about?’

‘Yep! You don’t sound too surprised?’

‘Just… processing it. I didn’t think you were much of a dog person?’

‘Eh, not really… But ever since Colonel, they’ve earned a bit more of my respect.’

‘The… German Shephard that was a witness to murder?’

‘That’s the one. Sometimes I think about making that disgusting potion thing to talk to Miracle. I never did learn what dogs were put on Earth for…’

‘…What?’

“Uh, nothing, nevermind. So, you wanna meet her?’

‘Am I not doing that right now?’

‘Not properly! You should take control, meet her right! Give her a good scratch behind the ears.’

‘You want me to take over? You’re sure?’

‘No Cas, I’m not sure; I’m worried you’ll take control of my body forever and kill my dog. Yes I’m sure you dumbass, now get up here!’

Miracle was able to pick up the change immediately. The second the familiar green eyes of her owner turned into that dazzling blue, her furiously wagging tail came to a stop. Yet, she did not move from her position. She didn’t back away from him in fear like Castiel was expecting her to.

“Um… hello,” Castiel greeted the dog leaning on his lap awkwardly.

‘Dean, I’m worried I’m going to startle her.’

‘Why? Can she sense you’re an angel or something?’

‘Dog’s have incredible senses, far beyond what humans are capable of. It’s likely she can feel my grace inside you, perhaps even smell it.’

‘…What does grace smell like?’

‘It varies from angel to angel. The scent typically expands out to the vessel, so it’s likely you may even be able to pick up on the smell if you were close enough.’

Cas stretched out a tentative hand towards Miracle, slowly moving his hand as not to spook her. He stopped his hand right in front of her snout, to which Miracle gave him an eager sniff.

‘Huh… that’s kind of cool, actually. Is it kind of like humans, where our body odor can smell different to other people?’

‘Not entirely the same, but similar. A human’s scent is used for mating purposes, typically. If a person has a pleasant smelling odor, it’s because their immune system is vastly different to yours.’

‘And that’s good for mating because…?’

‘Because then if you were to have a child, their immune system would be the strength of both of yours combined. It’s nature’s way of increasing your offspring’s chances – of course, humans have adapted so well in most countries that infant mortality rate isn’t much of a problem anymore.’

‘Huh… you know a strange amount about humans, Cas.’

‘Well, it was my job to watch over them for millennia’s. There’s not much else to do but learn about them.’

The longer Miracle spent sniffing Cas, the faster her tail began to wag – going from a steady swing back and forth to a blurred mess of fur. Castiel wasn’t too sure why, but the sight brought a warmth to his chest and a joyful smile stretching across his face. Miracle only became more excited at the sight of his smile, trying to pull herself up even closer and bury her head into his hands for more scratches and pets.

‘Think it’s safe to say she likes you, Cas.’

Even Dean was smiling within his own mind, watching as his best friend bonds with his other best friend.

‘I like her, too. Her fur is addictingly soft.’

‘Great for cuddles.’

‘Dean Winchester cuddling a dog? I’m sorry I missed such a sight.’

‘Says the big scary angel of the lord that’s practically melting in her paws…’

‘You think I’m scary?’

‘Now? Nah, but only because I know you wouldn’t hurt me… too bad. But when I first met you? Yeah… when you showed me your wings for the first time, I was both in awe and seconds away from pissing my pants.’

‘As soldiers of God, I suppose it makes sense that we were created to have a fear invoking appearance. In fact, when he was still in Heaven, Gabriel would often regale the story of talking to the shepherds; how he had to call after then to not be afraid as they ran away…’

‘I think I’ve heard of that story before… wasn’t it in the Bible?’

‘That it was. Gabriel begged for the story to be passed onto the prophets…’

‘Sounds like Gabriel. And that sounds like my stomach growling… Let’s get this show on the road, Cas; bacon’s awaiting.’

Switching possession was still a strange feeling for Dean. It was almost like trying to squeeze past someone in a tight corridor, going from this muted and out of focus vision to a sharp and overwhelming reality.

Miracle happily trotted alongside Dean as he wheeled down the bunker’s hallways, plastering on a smile as he descends the little ramp over the stairs into the kitchen. Sam and Eileen were situated behind the kitchen counter, Eileen sipping on a fresh cup of coffee whilst Sam finished up plating a towering stack of fluffy pancakes.

“Morning!” Eileen was the first to spot him, lowering her mug back down and returning Dean’s warm smile. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, actually,” Dean answered honestly, wheeling himself over to the kitchen island and eying up the food goods on display; an appetizing spread of bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and – the newest addition from Sam – a plate of pancakes.

“You guys make all this?” Dean was fighting himself tooth and nail not to snatch a piece of bacon for himself (and slip a piece for Miracle….)

“Yep,” Sam replied, looking proudly to the spread. “Eileen cooked up the bacon and eggs. Thought you might want some good eggs and not my rubber eggs.”

“Good call,” Dean had given in to the urge, speaking through a mouthful of perfectly crispy bacon. “Surprised you’re not serving me those egg whites only omelet and fake bacon…” Dean paused, glancing down frantically to the half piece of bacon in his hands. “Wait, unless-,”

“It’s real bacon,” Sam assured him, though rather disapprovingly as he began shoveling some eggs onto his own plate. “I’m not that cruel.”

“You did it before! Brought home that synthetic crap from the store…”

“It tastes just the same!” Sam argued over his shoulder, searching through one of the cabinets for their depleting bottle of maple syrup. “And it’s better for you.”

“It does not taste the same,” Dean grumbled in response, accepting the freshly poured cup of black coffee Eileen passed over to him. “And that’s why I don’t let you go shopping for groceries on your own anymore.”

‘Sam does raise a valid point, Dean.’

‘Oh no. Don’t you start with me too, Cas. I’m already sacrificing my whisky for you, do not ask me to give up my bacon on top of that.’

“I was starting to worry when the smell of sausages cooking didn’t rouse you from your slumber,” Sam commented, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Good thing the bacon did the job, or I’d have assumed you passed in your sleep.”

“Eh, what can I say,” Dean shrugged his shoulders, wheeling himself and his plateful of food (very carefully…) over to the kitchen table. “Getting stabbed through the back really takes it out of you. Plus, you see this face? Doesn’t stay this pretty at my age without some beauty sleep, Sammy.”

“You’re not that old,” Sam scoffed. “Besides, since when do you sleep in till noon?”

Dean nearly spat out his mouthful of coffee, frantically shoving his flannel sleeve back to check the time on his watch. Yep, just as Sam had said, his watch blinked back the numbers ’12:23’ at him in bright white lettering. “Huh… would you look at that…”

“You have a good dream you didn’t want to wake up from something?” Sam joked, having no idea how close to the truth he actually was.

“Something like that. Man… can’t remember the last time I slept that long. You know, without being knocked out or forced unconscious, or anything like that.”

“Obviously, your body needed the sleep,” Eileen commented, finishing off her last triangle of toast and placing her leftover scraps of sausages and bacon on the floor for Miracle to feast on (which she definitely didn’t leave on purpose). “Doesn’t matter how much drugs the hospital pumps you with; you’ll never have as good of a night’s sleep as you do in your own bed.”

“Amen to that,” Dean stretched out his arms in front of him, listening to the satisfying cracks and pops of his elbow and shoulder joints. “So, what’s the plan for today? Straight to the library, skim through books till we’re bored to tears?”

The happy go lucky smile on Dean’s face slowly slipped away as he saw the anxious looks Sam and Eileen were sharing. Uh oh… That was never good. That was the look of ‘we have something we need to tell you, and we know you’re not going to like it’. Dean hated that look… especially since he knows he’s been one to sport the expression for himself many times over the years.

“Uh, actually…” Sam begun, looking to Eileen for help. “Eileen actually kinda… found a case… while you were in the hospital.”

“Oh…” Dean squeaked out, the remaining few bites of pancake left on his plate no longer looking as appetizing as they did a few seconds ago.

“I wasn’t looking for one,” Eileen stressed that fact, guilt already twisting at her features. “It’s… it’s kind of been all over the news, actually.”

“Yeah, and that’s kinda the reason we’re bringing it up,” Sam added in, backing up Eileen. “From what we think we know… there’s already been seven deaths connected to this thing.”

“Jesus… seven?” Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t caught wind of this himself. Then again, it wasn’t as if he had been actively searching for a case these past few days…

“We did some more research into it this morning. We’re pretty sure it’s a simple salt and burn job – a day, maybe two. It’s local too, just a few towns over.” Sam told him.

“And you’re… what, asking me for permission?” Dean wheeled himself over to the sink, focusing on dropping his plates into the soapy water rather than on Sam and Eileen’s matching looks of guilt.

“No, just… wanted to let you know is all,” Sam forced the words out rather awkwardly, unsure whether to keep in place or walk over to Dean. “We, uh… we’ll be heading off in about twenty minutes. We’ve already burnt enough daylight, so…”

“Yeah, course. Sure,” Dean forced out, pushing down the bitterness that wanted to enter his tone. “Don’t want to be the one that’s holding you guys back like I have all morning, so don’t hang around for me or anything.”

“Dean-,” Sam tried, taking a single step towards him. 

“It’s fine, Sammy,” Dean snapped, holding out an arm to stop Sam from getting any closer. “Seriously. You two can watch each other’s backs, so I’m not worried there. You guys need any help, then – y’know – don’t know there’s much I can do but, guess you can call me; be whatever FBI director or whoever you need to call if the local badges start asking questions.”

“Dean… you know we wouldn’t be doing this usually, but… with the hunt so local and so many people already dead…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean brushed Sam off. “Go. Really, go on the hunt. I’ll be fine here. Get some research done for once.”

“We won’t take long,” Eileen assured him. “We want to help Cas, too. We’ll be here for that, we promise.”

“Uh-huh. You guys better get going then. Don’t let me stop you,” Dean rolled away from the two of them before they could say anything, forcing himself back up the ramp and down the bunkers hallway, which never seemed as long as it does now.

Miracle, ever loyal, trudged on after him, slipping into his room before he slammed the door. Turns out that slamming the door is more difficult when in a wheelchair, having to grab hold of the edge of the door behind him and force it backward. It didn’t quite make the echoing slam the heavy wooden doors usually do, which only pissed him off more. What’s the point of slamming a door if the person you’re mad at can’t feel it shaking through their bones?

‘You not gonna say something? Tell me off for getting snappy at them or some crap like that?’

‘I thought that if I remained silent that you wouldn’t direct your anger at me. Clearly, that didn’t work. I get that you’re frustrated Dean, but it’s not fair to direct that at Sam and Eileen. They haven’t done anything wrong-,’

‘Haven’t done anything wrong!? I haven’t even been home a day and they’re already ditching me for a hunt!’

‘Are you saying you wouldn’t do the same in their place? Knowing that seven innocent people have already lost their lives?’

‘No! I mean… maybe… it’s just… I just got home. Now I’ve got to sit around here doing nothing while they’re out there working?’

‘I know you want to be out there with them, Dean; but Sam and Eileen are just doing what’s right. And I think you know this, otherwise, you wouldn’t have been provoking me into “telling you off”.’

‘Really don’t like how much of me you’ve figured out after being in my head for like, three days.’

‘Does that mean I was correct in my assumption?’

Dean sent over a slightly blurry, staticky, barely put together mental image of his middle finger over to Cas, hoping it’d ruffle some feathers.

It did.

‘No need to be rude, Dean. I think I’ll retreat for a bit while you get over your temper tantrum.’

‘Temper Tantrum? Seriously? You treating me like I’m five - is that it? That how you think you’re gonna solve things?’

Cas stayed true to his word, only silence filling the gap in his mind which Cas’s words typically took up.

‘Temper Tantrum… say’s the guy that’s giving me the silent treatment. Now that’s childish.’

Silence. Nothing but silence and his own thoughts echoing in his mind.

‘Fine. Be like that. I’ll go find my own damn work to do…’

  * * *

The library never felt quite so empty and… boring. Sure, he still had Miracle, who was curled up in her memory foam dog bed that Dean had dropped a few pretty pennies on (and still hasn’t told Sam about the actual price). As great as she was for company, it turns out that dogs aren’t so skilled in the whole conversation part of companionship. Unless you count Dean talking to her in that way people talk to their dogs - which he once found annoying but would now be a hypocrite to say so.

Dean had scoured through all the book titles that seemed to allude to any information on angels and vessels – well, those on the bottom of the bookshelves anyway – and now had them neatly stacked on the table in front of him. Sam and Eileen had long since left the bunker, wisely choosing not to say goodbye – or anything for that matter – disappearing into the garage and leaving him here. The hours had ticked by way too slow, the words on the page in front of him starting to blur together and become an incomprehensible mess. He had re-read this particular passage on the comparisons of the limited real-life encounters with angels to their bible counterparts about five times now, but his brain was stubbornly refusing to take any of that information in.

Dean slammed the thick-binded cover closed, choking back a cough when it kicked up a mini mushroom cloud of dust, sliding the book across the table away from him. It was all starting to feel pointless. He knew that angels were pretty elusive creatures in the supernatural world, but he had no idea it was by this much. Damn near every book on angels, or any mention of angels in any creature encyclopedia he’s scanned through all seem to have the same message of “we’re talking out of our ass here”. All these books were nothing more than guesses based on other supernatural creatures. And sure, yeah, they got some of those guesses right from the limited knowledge of angels he’s got from Cas, but there was no guarantee on any of the info. What if they find something that can bring Cas’s body back, but it’s another hypothesis? What if it goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work at all? What if messes Cas up on the transfer, especially if they need to use all of Cas’s grace for it to work, and-

‘You’re panicking.’

Dean startled in his chair, Cas’s voice joining the spiraling thoughts in his mind for the first time in a good few hours.

‘What?’

‘Your heart rate has increased to a hundred and five beats per minute and you started screaming in your head again.’

‘Oh, and so you decided to take pity on me and stop the silent treatment?’

‘I decided it was best to interrupt your incoming anxiety attack before you put too much strain on your healing body. And it seems to have worked, considering you’re converting your worries into pettiness and directing it at me once again.’

‘I get it, Cas. I’m being a dick. That what you wanted to hear?’

‘I was hoping for an apology, but I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get.’

‘Damn straight it is. Now, you gonna help me here for what?’

‘Help you how?’

Dean pulled the next book out from the top of the stack, thumping it down on the table and flipping it open to the first page. ‘You can put your special angel eyes to use and help me find something of use in here.’

‘My… special angel eyes?’

‘Yeah. What, you telling me an angel's eyesight is the same as a human’s? That the high and mighty angels of the Lord were cursed with the same pathetic eyes as the mud monkeys-,’

‘Dean, you know full well I do not look down on humans like my other brothers and sisters occasionally do.’

‘I know, Cas. Was making a joke. I’m just saying, could use a second pair of eyes as I read through this. Point out anything I might miss. Which I will. A lot.’

‘I’ll try my best.’

Another two hours passed in companionable silence, the only sounds in the library being Miracle’s snuffled snores and the occasional flip of the ancient and fragile papers under Dean’s fingers. Cas hadn’t said or anything to him in that time – or pointed out something that Dean had skipped over – which only made Dean feel all that more disheartened about this whole ‘creating a body’ idea. He hadn’t really considered the possibility that the idea might not be possible… He had just assumed he’d find something about it in one of the Men of Letter’s countless collection of books and that eventually, it would lead them to somewhere.

‘Dean… what’s that?’

‘What’s what?’

‘At the end of the table. Where you scratched your names into the table. Is that…?’

‘Oh, right. Didn’t show you…’ Dean wheeled himself over to the end of the table, the beginnings of a smile on his face as he looked down at the names crudely carved into the wood. ‘After we came home, we, uh… added you and Jack to the table. Bunker felt damn quiet and I, uh… It’s stupid, but I went back into the dungeon. Thought maybe… I dunno, maybe you’d still be there. You weren’t of course, and… next time I saw the table, I realized we should have added you long ago. Should have had the opportunity to carve your name yourself, but… yeah…’

‘Oh…’

‘You’re… okay with this, right? I’d ask Jack too but, y’know…’

‘I’m more than okay with it, Dean.’

‘You good, man? You kind of sound like you’re about to cry. You’re… not about to cry, are you?’

‘No…’

‘That didn’t sound very convincing.’

‘Didn’t sound very convincing to myself, either. Dean, do you… do you mind if I take over for just a moment?’

‘Uh… sure, Cas. Go ahead.’

Castiel pushed himself into the front of Dean’s mind, waiting for his grace to settle into full possession. He pulled himself closer to the table, reaching out with Dean’s hand and placing it down on the carvings. As gently as possible, he traced the letters of his name with his finger, ignoring the sharp bite of the rugged edges. His name. It was his name that Dean had taken the time to painstakingly carve into the table, both his and Jack’s resting alongside the Winchesters like they were always there.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to add your name sooner.’

‘I never expected you to. Which is why, perhaps, this is… affecting me more than I thought it would.’

‘Yeah… one of the things that made me realize how crappy I can treat you sometimes, Cas. Hell, you should have demanded to have had your name added here.’

‘I would never demand such a thing, Dean. This is… a very personal decision that only you or Sam could have decided, and I… truth be told, I don’t have the words to say how much this means to me.’

‘I don’t think you need words when you’re making my eyes cry, Cas.’

‘Oh, sorry – I’m still not used to your body…’

Castiel raised a hand to his eyes, finding that Dean was telling the truth when he wiped away the tears that were moments away from spilling over. He gave one last look to the names on the table, one last touch to the aged wood before handing Dean’s body back to himself.

‘Guess we better get back to researching… good old research…’ Dean held back a groan as he wheeled back over to the seemingly never-ending pile of books stacked on the table.

‘Probably for the best, yes. Actually, I was thinking before… I wonder if any of these study pieces are by Lilly?’

Dean closed the cover to the third book they had been smimming through, pushing it over to the ‘completed’ pile at the other end of the table. ‘Who’s Lilly?’

‘Lilly Sunder. You don’t remember her?’

‘Oh. Course I remember her. Huh, I didn’t consider it… She did say she had studied angels, didn’t she?’

‘Devoted her life to us. Both in scientific curiosity and… for revenge. I know her studies were from a long time ago, but it’s a possibility that her work could have ended up here. Perhaps under a different pen name, though.’

‘Why would she use a different pen name?’

‘Lilly was working on her studies back in the turn of the nineteenth century. The world wasn’t exactly accepting of women who were interested in the scientific field – especially when that involved mixing science with religious aspects. Trying to theoretically dissect a biblical creature back then… even a man in that field would receive quite the backlash.’

‘Right… Wow, humans suck, huh?’

‘You have your moments of beauty, just as you can have moments of cruelty. I like to think that you’re still maturing as a species. Someday, there will be nothing left but beauty.’

‘Very poetic, Cas.’

Dean couldn’t muster enough energy to pull another book towards him, rubbing at his tired eyes with a frustrated groan. He leaned back in his chair, glancing around at the books on shelves that surrounded him. “All the knowledge in the friggen’ world… but nothing of use.”

‘We don’t know that for sure.’

‘Doubt we have enough time left to comb through every book here, Cas.’

That gave Dean an idea. He perked up in the chair, swiveling his head towards the file cabinets that lined the back of the room. ‘Maybe it’s not in the books… maybe the Men of Letters did some research themselves? There could be something in their files!’

‘It’s a possibility. Though, I do not know of any angels that were in contact with the Men of Letters during the time period they worked in.’

Dean wheeled over to the first cabinet on the left, guessing that anything to do with angels would be stored under the ‘A’ section. ‘You say that like you were aware of every angel's movements.’

‘Not myself, but… As I’ve said before, angels rarely visited Earth before the start of the apocalypse. Only specific cases that were deemed necessary for intervention by those higher up.’

Dean’s finger stilled at the file he had reached, feeling a kick of hope burst in his chest at the title: ‘Angel Exorcism – Exorcising An Angel Whilst Leaving The Vessel Intact.’

‘Cas? You heard of something like this?’

‘An angel exorcism? Other than the relic you used on Lucifer whilst he was possessing your president… Typically, the only way to ‘expel’ an angel is for the vessel themselves to revoke their permission.’

‘You think it’s possible?’

‘I don’t see why not. If humans have found a way to place such magic into a relic… it’s a possibility.’

The file – though, it was more of a folder – was made from thick parchment paper and had been written up by a typewriter. Much to Dean’s excitement, within the folder was a reel of film that was labeled with the same title as the file.

‘Dean… I don’t see what this has to do with recreating a vessel.’

‘I’m just counting our blessings that there’s something angel related in these cabinets. And there’s talks about the vessel here, too. It’s worth a watch at least, right?’

A few minutes later (and a near tip over on a ramp that Dean would rather not mention), they found themselves in the projector room. Dean pulled out the old reel stored within the projector, feeling a fresh wave of sadness wash over him when he recognized it as the tape of Mr’s Butters that Jack had found. Dwelling on those feelings never led to anything good, so Dean hurriedly shoved the other reel into the projector slot and pressing the play button before any more thoughts of Jack begin to settle into his mind.

A grainy mess of greys and whites sparked to life on the screen, frames flickering past until the image of a man in a sharply dressed man came into view. Ah, seemed it was their favorite Men of Letters, Sinclair… Dean could recognize the room as their dungeon room, the sigils painted on the ground looking freshly painted. Behind Sinclair, just out of view, sat a battered-looking man in a chair. His hands were bound in a familiar-looking pair of silver cuffs, head slumped down in apparent unconsciousness. Next to the chair was a wheeled table, a silver tray sat atop bearing tools that Dean couldn’t quite identify yet.

“Experiment Number two-zero-seven for the Men of Letters Archive. This experiment is led by me, Mr. Cuthbert Sinclair. And my assistant behind the camera is one of our new initiates of The Men of Letters, Mr. Henry Winchester.”

‘Henry Winchester… your grandfather?’

‘Yeah… On dad’s side. I didn’t really think about how much he did in the Men Of Letters; I just knew he died after Abaddon possessed that other chick that joined the same time he did.’

“Now what we have here… is a rare occasion. The second I’ve seen. Most of humanity believes angels to be God’s messengers… there to pass on the good Lord’s words to those that are meant to hear it. Some believe them to be God’s minions, there to dish out miracles when God is… unavailable. Neither of these are true. Angels are soldiers, created to carry out God’s dirty work… And if one ever decides to bless you with their presence? Well, I’m afraid to say that a miracle is the farthest thing that will happen to you…”

Sinclair turned away from the camera, which followed him as he stepped up the side of the man still slumped over in the chair. He had come more into focus now, and Dean could see just how bad of a state the guy was in; dark bruises were littered all over the man’s pale skin, multiple cuts and lacerations decorating every piece of skin Dean could see, oozing out streams of dark blood that stained the button-up shirt of the man’s suit.

‘Jesus… what the hell are they doing to the guy?’

‘That’s not a “guy”, Dean…’

‘Huh?’

‘I recognize the man… that was the last vessel I saw Atheed possessing…’

‘You telling me the Men of Letters managed to trap an angel?’

‘It seems so…’

‘You know this angel?’

‘Not too well… We had occasionally crossed paths I suppose, but… I wouldn’t say I “know” him, no. Atheed’s garrison had been dispatched to survey a particularly troublesome band of demons who had managed to fatally wound one of us… the demons were dispatched with, but Atheed never returned. It was assumed he fell in battle, but… now that seems not the case.’

“Now, our inhabitant here hasn’t been particularly talkative… Some of the hunters under our employment were working on a typical demon case when it seems our winged foes here took a particular interest… One was left severely injured once the dust had cleared, and our hunters thought it best to bring him here for help.” Sinclair clicked his mouth and shook his head in disappointment, using his index finger to lift up the angel's chin. “A shame most will never know the true evil of these creatures… these beings with unfathomable power we foolishly believe to be our side…”

Sinclair let the angel's chin drop back down to his chest, turning his face back to the camera and flashing a smile. “See, here’s the thing – best thing we can do for most is to take this here-,” Sinclair gestured to the tray next to him, pointing directly to the angel blade – which likely belonged to the angel in question. “-And rid the world of one of these things… but in doing so, we create waste; somewhere hidden in there, crushed by the weight of this creature, is a human being. A devout believer tricked by this angel’s silver tongue. Some may say that they already sealed their fate when they agreed to possession… but as I said, angels can be very persuasive. Why should this innocent man have his life cut short? Why isn’t there a way to remove the angel, but keep the man inside alive? Today, we’re going to try just that with a little theory of mine.”

Much to Dean’s confusion, Sinclair then proceeded to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt. Then, Dean caught sight of the thin silver chain wrapped around his neck, leading down to a small glass vial that Sinclair lifted up to the camera. The vial contained a bright liquid-like substance, it’s color hidden by the black and white footage. Not that Dean needed to see the color; he already had a feeling he knew what that swirling mixture inside the bottle was…

‘It’s… it’s grace. Atheed’s grace.’

“The last time we had access to an angel, we were able to perform another experiment; finding a way to extract an angel of their grace to see the effects it had on the angel, and to see what uses the grace can provide outside its host. I have repeated the same procedure here, but this time I have not extracted all the grace. You see, when we first performed the procedure, we expected for the removal of the grace to also remove the angel. Not so, unfortunately. It simply stripped the angel of their power, leaving them mortal… taking over control from the vessel. So this time, our angel here still has some of his grace left, but not much. Barely enough to keep himself an angel.”

Sinclair dropped his hand away from the vial, now reaching for a small box contraption sat atop the tray. He picked it up, thumb hovering over a plastic window which encased a big red button that gave Dean some serious villain type vibes.

“For our next step, we will be moving our angel outside the bunker. If things go right, there shouldn’t be a mess to clean up, but for safety sake, this is best done outside.”

Just as Sinclair had said, the footage shifted from grainy footage of the bunker interior to a shot of the forest outside the bunker. Atheed was still sat in the same chair, handcuffs still secured around his wrists, but now he seemed to be regaining consciousness. He was clearly out of it, eyes half-lidded as he blearily took in his surroundings, barely having enough strength to lift his head up from his chest. As usual, Sinclair was stood next to him, though this time a few steps away. The contraption was still sat snugly in his hand, that infuriating smile remaining plastered on his face. Strangely, Dean could see a few wires extending out from Atheed’s body, trailing down from his chest to the ground, connected to the contraption in Sinclair’s hand.

“Not only will we be removing the angel… but my hope is we are also able to kill the angel. The amount of Grace it has left is dangerously low – not enough to survive a transfer to another vessel. And these cuffs here are helping to dampen that even more… Otherwise, our angel here would have fled long ago. The only thing keeping this angel alive, to exists in this plane… is the vessel he resides in. So, it goes to say that it would be in his best interest to keep the vessel alive, wouldn’t it?”

Sinclair flashed one last smile at the camera, gesturing for the cameraman his grandpa to step back. Henry did as he was told, walking backward from Atheed as Sinclair followed him at a leisurely pace. The camera panned around to reveal a makeshift cover of sorts, a few sandbags hastily put together in the form of a wall, just enough space for two men. Henry settled behind the sandbags, camera pointed towards Atheed as Sinclair took his place behind the cover next to Henry.

“Our angel has had some… minor surgery beforehand. That is to say, we’ve stuffed him with a few pieces of explosives. Small pieces of dynamite. We left an opening for the wires to be connected to the detonator in my hand.”

‘They’re… they’re insane. They’re just going to blow this guy up?’

‘I… I feel sick. I’m not sure if I can watch this…’

“This is a risky theory, but… it’s the best we got. We need to put the vessel through some serious damage. So damaged that the angel will be forced to intervene. In its last-ditch effort, the angel will use what’s remaining of its grace to heal the vessel. But in doing so… it will have burnt through all that remains of its grace. We are left with the human, fully healed and soul still intact, whilst the angel… has been burnt out from the body. Dead. That is the theory, anyway. All that’s left now… is to see if my theory rings true.”

If Dean wasn’t so desperate for answers, he would have shut this torture porn off long ago. Instead, he – and in turn, Cas – were forced to watch the horrific event unfold. Sinclair flipped the little plastic covering of the detonator up, pressing his thumb into the big red button as casually as one would call an elevator. What was once Atheed disappeared in a spray of meaty chunks within a fine mist, the chair underneath reduced to a pile of singed timber, half of it thrown across the forest by the blast. As disgusting as it all was, Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the carnage. He was waiting to see those chunks of flesh on the floor start to connect back together, the spray of blood on the floor to collect and go back to its rightful body.

That didn’t happen. For a good ten seconds they could only stare at the stain on the floor that moments ago was a human being and an angel, four observers spanning across two centuries watching as an experiment fails quite spectacularly.

“Damn!” Sinclair exclaimed, tossing the detonator in his hands to the floor. “Experiment number two-zero-seven… has failed. Both the angel and human in our possession have been terminated… General conclusion seems to be that the angel did not have enough grace left to heal its vessel… Perhaps, if we’re given the opportunity again, we can repeat the experiment – but reduce the amount of grace we take from the angel…”

The frames begun to flicker, left on Sinclair’s pondering expression as the tape began to wheel down to nothing, the projector shutting off and plunging Dean into darkness. He had yet to say anything, nor had Cas. He could only stare vacantly at the blank projector screen, hoping that the image of that angel being blown into little pieces would eventually disappear from his vision.

‘Cas… you okay?’

‘No. That’s – what they did-,’

‘Yeah… I know…’

‘I know that the relationship between humans and angels have been complicated at best, but… to think the Men of Letters were capable of doing such a thing… To see us as nothing more than an ‘experiment’, it’s…’

‘It’s messed up. After all that, we’re no step closer to finding anything that’ll help you. I really thought there would be something in there, and… Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about how my Grandpa had a part to play in it… I guess they saw angels as… monsters. A threat to humanity.’

‘Our mission was to watch over humanity… We lost sight of that somewhere along the way. Now, though… I’m hoping things will change under Jack’s rule.’

‘You think he’ll make more angels?’

‘It’s a possibility. He has the power for it, even before he absorbed Chuck’s and Amara’s power. It would certainly help to stabilize Heaven, reducing the chance of the souls there being cast out and locking out those that are supposed to ascend.’

‘If only we knew what the kid was doing… would be nice if he dropped in every now and then, you know? A phone call maybe.’

‘…Huh…’

‘Huh? What’s “huh” supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing really, just… for a moment there, you sounded like a stereotypical grumpy father.’

‘Yeah? Well, we have a friggen’ God as our kid – you expect me not to be a little grumpy that he up and vanished on us? Are you not kinda pissed too, Cas? I mean – you died. And he didn’t do anything about it. Not even when you came back.’

‘I’m not going to say I understand why he hasn’t intervened in everything that’s happened since, but mostly… I miss him.’

‘I miss him too, Cas. I’m still pissed, but… I don’t know, maybe it’s more disappointment than anything. I thought – hoped, really – that once we dealt with Chuck we would all have a bit of a break. Chill in the bunker for a bit or, hell, maybe we’d finally take that beach vacation. Jack would probably go all giddy over the concept of sand-castles…’

‘That sounds nice… I think Jack would have loved that.’

‘It’s easy to forget he’s only what, three? Maybe four? Our new God is the son of Satan who is four years old… that’s not a recipe for disaster or anything, right?’

‘He hasn’t gone crazy with his newfound power and tried to bend everyone to his will yet, so he’s doing marginally better than I was.’

‘That’s… one way to look at it. And you were, what, a sprightly couple of billion years old?’

‘Not sure. I stopped counting somewhere after the eight billionth birthday.’

‘Well, if it makes you feel better Cas – you look damn good for your age.’

  * * *

It was rare for Dean to have a good dream.

This was something Castiel had learned over the years. Even though Dean would often voice his displeasure at him about watching over him as he slept, Cas would continue to keep an eye on his slumbering form. Occasionally, he would look into Dean’s mind to see what dream was playing out. If it was a nightmare, he would simply place his hand on Dean’s shoulder and ebb a little bit of grace through him, flushing out the nightmare from his system. It was the least he could do, and Dean always seemed to be that extra bit more rested when he did it – so he never really stopped.

That was until he lost his wings and the boys moved into the Men of Letter’s bunker. It was easier before when he could just fly over to whichever sleazy, rundown motel they had stopped in for the night and keep himself hidden while he watched over Dean. He knew that there was nowhere safer for Dean to sleep than in the sigil covered bunker, and yet… that urge to watch over him always remained.

Nightmares were a common occasion for Dean. That was to be expected of course, with all the unimaginable horrors he’s been through in his short forty-one years on Earth. Now that Castiel was residing within his head, he could finally brush away Dean’s nightmares whenever he stepped into them.

This nightmare, however…

It had caught him off guard. It had felt as if he had woken up to the nightmare himself. At first glance, he was certain he had entered Dean’s memories of Hell. The heat was unbearable, stifling him of any air. The room he was in was packed with smoke, filling his lungs and making it near impossible to breathe. Flames licked down the walls, the ceiling above him ablaze with red-hot flames. There, in the center of the ceiling, were the charred remains of who Castiel was certain to be Mary Winchester. Even though she was nothing more than a burnt corpse, she still screamed in agony, the sound piercing as it echoed around the room.

This dream… it wasn’t acting out like the actual horrific event had. At this point, John Winchester should have already been in the room. He should have been there to witness his wife pinned to the roof; stomach ripped open as the flames erupt. Dean should have run into the burning room, should have had his baby brother placed into his arms and commanded to “Get your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean - Go!” from his father.

Instead, Castiel stood frozen at the sight of Dean, four-year-old Dean leaning over the white crib, its paint peeling from the intense heat as Dean tries desperately to reach for baby Sam within. The sounds of young Dean’s panicked cries as he reached for his screaming brother were overwhelming and heart-breaking, but it was what Castiel needed for his mind to kick into gear.

What he should have done was force the nightmare to disappear. Except, he wasn’t really thinking. More… he was acting on instinct. He had rushed forward, using his arms to shield himself from the embers that danced in the air as he raced towards the crib. Within seconds he had plucked baby Sam from the crib, holding him close to his chest as he wrapped his other arm around Dean, hauling him up and tucking him into his side.

Castiel could feel the burning heat behind him as he ran, pieces of the ceiling collapsing as the fire raged on. His lungs burned with every inhale of smoke, each breath resulting in a choking, spluttering cough that left him gasping for air that wasn’t there. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, matching his rapid steps down the damaged and soot-covered staircase. He very nearly ran into the closed front door, bracing himself before bringing up a leg and slamming it into the weak spot next to the lock. The door flung open from the force, the doorframe splintering and sending shards of wood flying. Cas ran through the front door and into the front yard without looking back, keeping his hold on Sam and Dean tight.

The first few breaths of fresh air were wonderful, and he would have collapsed to his knees and sucked in as much as he could if it weren’t for the two children he held in his arms. Little Sam was still wailing in his arms, struggling against the hold of a man who, technically, was a stranger to him at the time. Dean had since gone quiet, trembling in Cas’s arms as the two of them watched what was once Dean’s home burn.

“It's okay...” Castiel whispered to the two boys in his arms, lowering himself down into the damp November dew-covered grass and watching as the roof of the house collapses in on itself. “You're okay, now. I have you.”

“Is Sammy okay?” Deans' first question came in the form of a frightened child’s broken, trembling voice. A boy that was trying to be brave - even in the face of absolute horror.

“Sammy's fine. He’s a little shaken up, but he’s okay.” Cas lowered his arm down to Dean’s level, who immediately peered over the crook of Cas's elbow to keep a watchful eye on his baby brother.

“Thank you, Cas.”

Cas's eyebrows shot up at the mention of his name. "You know who I am?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his eyes still glued onto Sam. “You’re my angel. Mommy says you watch over me.”

“I... I suppose I am your angel, yes. Your mommy’s right – I do watch over you. Well, big you, anyway.”

“I know,” Little Dean asserted, reaching out to trail gentle fingers down his little brother’s face, the soothing touch quietening the young boy's wails nearly instantaneously. “Big me say’s you’re my bestest friend in the whole world.”

Despite the horrific situation that was currently playing out in Dean’s subconscious mind, Castiel couldn’t help but let a small smile curl at his lips. “In the whole world, huh? Wow, that’s quite the honor.”

“Big me doesn’t have many friends,” Little Dean continued, the words dampening Cas’ smile just a bit. “Anyone he tries to get close to seem to… go away. Kind of like mommy and daddy did.”

Castiel tightened his hold on Dean a little bit more. “Yes… you’ve been through a lot – the both of you.”

“I have lots of friends at school!” Little Dean’s voice brightened considerably. “It’s not big school yet, mummy calls it kin… kinder…”

“Kindergarten?”

“Yeah! I started not long ago, and my friends are really fun! But… do you think I can keep going to kindergarten now?”

It pained Castiel to see those hopeful young eyes peering up at him, looking to him as if he held all the answers. The real Dean – at least, the Dean he knows today - is there inside this young child’s mind. That Dean knows what comes of this day, of what is waiting for him; and yet, to tell this innocent child the truth… it seems unfathomably cruel to do so.

“I, um… I think that might not happen, Dean.”

Dean’s hopeful gaze slipped, dropping his head back down to look to Sam. “Yeah… I don’t think so either…”

“You will get through this, Dean. Both you and Sam – you’ll grow up into the two most important men on this Earth. Not only will you save the world, but the entire Universe – and all the other Universe’s to ever have been created.”

“We will? Me and Sammy?”

“You will.”

“But… Sammy’s so tiny.”

Castiel chuckled quietly, looking down to the baby in his arms that was barely heavier than a bag of flour, eyelids drooping shut as he began to feel comfortable in Castiel’s hold. “He is right now, yes. He’ll grow to be taller than you, though.”

“What!? That’s no fair! I’m the big brother! I should be biggest!” Dean pushed out his bottom lip into a pout, looking from Sam to Cas with big, wet eyes that Cas is sure got Mary to cave into Dean’s demands once or twice.

“If it helps - even though he’s taller - Sam still looks up to you. No matter what.” Castiel assured him.

The pout disappeared just like that, the first smile he’s seen from young Dean this night appearing on his face. “He does?”

“Of course he does. It’s what you two do; always looking out for each other.”

“And you!” Dean insisted, leaving no room for argument. “Big Dean and Big Sam look out for you too, like you watch over us!”

“Yes, you do,” Castiel agreed gently. “You always do.”

The last of the flames were dying out now. The house was left as a pile of blackened wood, the bare-bone frames of it barely standing after the damage. Smoke billowed up from the remains, blocking out most of the clear night above them. It was almost beautiful; the last of the dying embers glowing softly amidst the pile of soot and rubble – like an abnormally large bonfire.

“Cas?”

Castiel tore his gaze away from what was once the Winchester’s family’s house, eyes landing on Dean’s searching stare. “Yes, Dean?

Little Dean glanced away from a moment, watching baby Sam’s peaceful sleeping face before risking another glance up to Cas. “Can… Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course, Dean. You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Little Dean paused, looking to him for a moment before scrambling up to his feet, leaning closer to Cas and cupping his small hands around Cas’s ears, whispering, “Big Dean is really, really scared.”

“He is?” Castiel asked, just about able to see Dean’s head furiously nodding up and down out of the corner of his eye. “What is he scared of?”

“That he’s going to lose you again.”

Dean had whispered it no louder than his last statement, yet he might as well have yelled it for how hard the words punched him in the gut.

Dean was stood by his side now, bracing himself against Cas’s shoulders as he waited patiently for Castiel to speak. It was jarring, seeing Dean like this. He was so used to Dean being the taller one than him - and now, even standing, Dean just barely reached his chin whilst he was kneeling down.

“Can I tell you a secret too?” Castiel asked, keeping his voice as hushed as Dean was. Dean eagerly nodded his head, eyes wide as saucers as he waited for Cas to spill his secrets. “I’m scared of losing you, too. And it never goes away. That’s what happens when you love someone.”

“Big Dean doesn’t like feeling scared.”

“Oh, I know he doesn’t. Could you do me a favor, then? I need you to tell Big Dean that I’m not going anywhere. As long as he wants me here, I’m not leaving.”

“You can’t promise that,” Dean said, much to Cas’s surprise. “Sometimes people don’t get to choose when they leave. If he could, Big Dean would keep you in his head forever, coz’ at least then he can protect you better.”

“I thought I was the one that was supposed to be protecting you?”

“You do. But Big Dean wants to protect everyone.”

Castiel sighed, looking up to the surroundings beyond the remains of the house. The stars were disappearing from the sky, the black of night spilling out and claiming everything else. Soon, everything around them would be nothing but an endless blackness.

Dean was waking up.

“Yes, he does... even when doing so risks himself...” Castiel noted, preparing himself to be ripped from this dream and into Dean's groggy, wakening consciousness mind.

“You're different, though,” Little Dean added, his voice fading away with the rest of the dream. “And that's why bigger me is so scared. You're something different to him – and he's too scared to find out what that kind of different is.”

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M 

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Thank you for all of the comments and reblogs! This was a much darker chapter to write! I hope you guys like it! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! -Jen

                                         Chapter Nine

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." -William Congreve, 1697

The rain had stopped long ago, but the puddle from the aftermath collected at the bottom of her feet and up to her very edge of her dress. She ignored the numbing feeling it brought on by the cold air, her mind still reeling from before. As the sun finally broke through the clouds, offering with it a little warmth, she finally stood up. Agatha ventured towards the edge of the balcony and looked out. It was a beautiful sight to behold if she was to be honest.

For the briefest of brief moments, a part of her wondered what would happen if she merely flung herself off the edge. Down, down, down to the solid ground below. But the bigger and better part of her waved away that feeling. That same urging need to fulfill her grandfather's dying wishes. Her family's pact. So she turned around and strode with purpose back into the dark castle.

"Emotion is a weakness, Agatha. It kills. Murders. If you allow yourself to feel, you allow yourself to be vulnerable. Look at where it got me. Your father. Be hardened. Don't let yourself become a victim. Love leads only to pain. Save yourself the trouble. There is no happiness at the end of a rainbow."

Abraham watched as Agatha cradled the dead rabbit in her arms. It had been a pet she'd kept hidden from the older man. But he had found it and did what he claimed was best for his granddaughter. The girl looked up at him with a tear streaked face, anger fierce in her blue eyes.

"I hate you!" She snapped. "I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!"

"You'll understand with time what I did for you was in your best favor." He said quietly, turning his back on the girl. "Now drop it and come inside. It's getting dark and it isn't safe to be out in the opening when it is."

It was quiet. The air still around her. The only sound that broke the silence being her wet feet as she walked across the stone floor leaving damp footprints in her wake. Agatha's eyes scanned the area around her. No sign of Dracula. Good. Maybe he had turned in for the morning. That would make things easier. Not that the idea of a good, solid fight wasn't overly tempting.

Descending the staircase, she made her way over to the table where the stake still lay untouched. She picked it up, examining it closely. The wood was carefully carved, free of splintered. Agatha couldn't ask for a more perfect weapon. Had the Count really been that reckless as to leave something like this out? Perhaps he no longer worried that she was a threat. The idea of such a thing only made her blood boil even more.

"Don't you have any family Anyone who cares for you?"

Agatha stood outside of the infirmary as they lay a blanket over Abraham Van Helsing's corpse. The only other person in the world she knew was gone. Perhaps she had an extended family, but she knew not where they were or had any means of contact. Her grandfather had made sure of that. Separation was safe. Something he'd taught her.

"No." She answered quietly, finally addressing the young woman who spoke to her. A nun of all people. "I don't."

"Oh," the nun said softly. "That must be very lonely. Surely you need someone."

"I don't mind it." Agatha said with a half smile. "Sometimes it's better that way. You don't get hurt. Or broken. Perhaps being by myself was what life always had in store for me." That and her mission to end Count Dracula. "I'll manage."

"But you don't need to." And the woman rested a hand on Agatha's arm. "Come with me to my convent. You'll be welcomed there. You don't have to be alone. God always has room for another."

Religion. Christianity. The young Van Helsing gazed down at the nun's hand. To be somewhere. Maybe able to find herself. Maybe able to study more in the process. Had she much of a choice? What money had Abraham left anyway? Barely a cent to his name. Agatha thought long and hard before inhaling deeply.

"Okay," she finally decided. "Okay."

What exactly would happen when she struck him deep within his chest? Would he immediately turn into dust? Burst into a flaming pillar? The possibilities seemed endless as Agatha traveled down the all too familiar path towards Dracula's coffin. She'd be quick. No hesitation. If she should show the slightest amount of pause, he'd be able to take advantage of the situation quickly.

Her still mending hand began to sting from how hard she was gripping her weapon. But she ignored the pain. Ignored how chilled her wet feet were against the stone. She was hellbent. Ambitious. Abraham would be proud. But the further she walked, the closer she got to the cellar, the more she began to wonder if she was really doing his bidding. Doing it in his honor. No. No, it was something else. Something Agatha was forcing herself not to think about.

"A nun's heart belongs to God and God alone. We embrace those around us, but our true love is to the Lord and his teachings."

Agatha sat on the opposite side of Mother Superior's desk, hands folded tightly in her lap. She hadn't been at St. Mary's Convent for very long, but already she was being assimilated in. The head nun wasn't as old as she had anticipated. A round face with a firm voice that still held some friendliness to it.

"I hold no intentions of romance," Agatha assured her. "I never have. You needn't worry about that."

Mother Superior smiled. "I'm not worried about you, Sister Agatha. There's something different about you. I'm not sure what, but I think you'll do well as a nun." She straightened up in her chair and held out her hand. Agatha took it without hesitation. "Welcome home, Sister. Welcome to your new family."

Slaughtered. Just like her rabbit. He'd slaughtered them all. Her family. Mother Superior. Each and every nun. Why had she allowed herself to forget that? Ignore what he had done. The horrors. The hatred. He hadn't batted an eye. So many lives lost and she forgave it. Or rather, from her actions, acted as such. She swallowed thickly. What was wrong with her? Agatha Van Helsing. Protector. Altruistic. Supposed to guard all those around her. A failure. Laughing stock. A singe on the Van Helsing ancestral lineage. Not anymore.

Her name was Mina. Frail. Blonde. Tiny little thing that had stumbled upon their convent in desperation. Agatha knew why. Jonathan Harker now in their care. Or what was left of him that was. The girl knew nothing of what vampires were. Sheltered from such tales. And yet, here she stood before the nun of all people. The woman who knew Count Dracula like that back of her hand. At least that is what she had convinced herself.

"I...I don't understand." The young woman stammered. "Johnny was attacked by a...vampire? But how could someone be so...cruel?"

"Not someone, something. A beast so vile has no heart, Mina. He's poison. Venomous. Count Dracula literally drains you dry. Takes away your life as if it were a mere scrap of spoiled meat." Agatha felt a little guilty for her words. For how timid the girl looked. But she needed to know the truth. "You are Christian, yes? Despite my status, I do not hold the same beliefs as you. But I swear to you, what attacked your Jonathan is the literal Satan."

"I cannot lie to you, Agatha." Mina murmured, nervously playing with her hair. "I'm frightened."

Her eyes were wide. So round. For a moment, Agatha thought she was gazing into her own reflection as a little girl. But immediately, she snapped back to her senses.

"You should fear him. Be terrified. Because the emptiness within him, any prospect of empathy or sympathy has been smothered." She finally answered.

"What must I do?" The girl asked, staring at Agatha as if she knew the answer to every question in the world. "What do I do?"

In that moment, Agatha really hadn't an answer. But she said what had been spoken to her so many times as a nun. "Pray, Mina. Pray for Jonathan. Pray for us all. And maybe, maybe someone above will listen." She paused before exhaling slowly. "Though, I can't say He's heard me yet."

Agatha approached the coffin that sat in the center of the room. No longer did boxes occupy it. Just the single casket. Fist still clenched around her weapon, the former nun managed to heave the lid open. There he lay. Still. Pale. Count Dracula in a deep slumber one might mistaken him for being dead. He was technically.

"End him."

The words rang in her head as if Abraham was speaking to her from beyond the grave.

"Do it!"

She raised the stake, positioning it over his chest. Over his heart. Her hands were trembling. Why was she shaking? Agatha sucked in a breath, trying to collect herself. This was it. Her life's work. Just one fluid motion and everything would be finished.

"Now!"

But before she had a chance to bring it down, Dracula's eyes flew open. In a matter of seconds, Agatha found herself thrust backwards. She collided with the stone, the wind knocked out of her by the motion. She panted, now face to face with the Count.

He had her pinned against the wall by the wrist, her hand still gripping the stake. Dracula's fingers tightened around her with such force he could have easily snapped the bones in two. But he didn't. Instead, he stared into her eyes. Expression still. Mouth pressed into a thin line. There was no malice. No resentment. Humor. He just stood there, holding her back.

"Abraham taught you well." The vampire stated. "Well. But not well enough."

"I sure as Hell plan to get farther than he ever did." Agatha spat back causing a small smile to cross the Count's features. "I don't plan on letting you live."

"Oh?" Dracula said, cocking an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Much to Agatha's confusion and alarm, he brought the fist that held the spike to his chest. Applying pressure, she could almost begin to feel it give way into his skin. Her eyes flickered from her hand, to the spike, and then his gaze. But instead of any reaction she'd expect, he merely gazed back at her emotionless.

"So do it," Dracula challenged. "End me, Agatha Van Helsing. If that's what you truly desire." He smiled and began to push harder. "End me."

[reinbewpastel]

Arabella’s Period - YJS One-Shot

It was just in the evening not long after the newly formed crew of the Barnacle had their adventure on Isla Esquelética in attempt to find the Sword of Cortés, which turned out to be stolen by the hands of Left Foot Louis. Even though they didn’t find the Sword, a few good things came out of it.

The trio, Jack Sparrow, Arabella Smith, and Fitzwilliam P. Dalton III, had earned themselves a few new crew members, Tumen, Jean, and Jean’s feline-turned sister Constance. Jean and Tumen were navigationally equipped and knew what they were doing. Jack thought they were right fine sailors indeed. He didn’t like the cat very much, but the three pretty much came in a packaged deal.

The crew had also picked up a ton of treasure from Stone Eyed Sam’s treasure room in the palace. It was much more than enough than they needed for supplies and such. On top of it all, Jack had defeated the angry cursed pirate, Captain Torrents, with the water from the brim of his newest hat, which he had just unfortunately lost to a trader in Isla Puerta. The one little souvenir he did get to keep though was the eye of Stone Eyed Sam. He kept it with him in his pocket at all times to remind him of their very first adventure.

The crew all sat in a circle on the deck of the Barnacle eating tonight’s dinner, which was biscuits and dried beans. It was apparent the ship was running low on supplies, and the Barnacle was on it’s way to Antigua to stock up. Jack picked at his food whilst he was writing an entry in his Captain’s Log, Tumen quietly ate and kept to himself, Jean practically scarfed down his food, Fitzwilliam delicately ate like it was fine dining, and Constance sat on top of a barrel eating some pickled fish. Jack noticed Arabella, who was sitting next to him, was not touching her food at all. She sat cross-legged as she hugged her stomach.

“You alright, lass?” Jack asked with concern. “You’re not eating.”

Arabella shrugged and bit her lip. “I’m fine. I’m just not really feeling good right now,” she shot a small glare at Jack. “and don’t call me lass.”

Jack watched as Arabella got up and walked to the other side of the ship.

Fitzwilliam gently wiped his face with his handkerchief and put his food down. “I’m going to go comfort the lady,” he announced.

“Oh, no no no. I will be going to go comfort her!” Jack insisted.

“What makes you think you can comfort a lady? It would be much better that a gentleman like me does it,” Fitzwilliam scoffed.

“I beg your pardon! I am very good at comforting ladies, I’ll have you know! Besides, Arabella is much more comfortable with me since I’ve known her longer.”

“Only by three days!”

“Are you sure you two really want to duel this out with the miss not feeling well across the way?” Jean questioned.

Jack and Fitz looked over at Arabella. Jean was right, this wasn’t the time to duel anything out.

“Capitaine Sparrow is correct, though,” Jean continued. “He has known Arabella a bit longer so he should be the one to comfort her.”

“HA!” Jack laughed.

“Fine! Go comfort her. If you screw up, I won’t be there to put the shambled pieces back together,” Fitzwilliam fumed.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll check on her in a minute,” Jack said waving his hand.

He closed his Captain’s Log and looked down on the deck next to him. There was a big dark red spot right where Arabella was just sitting. It was probably half the size of the palm of his hand. He furrowed his brows in confusion. He had never seen that spot there before. He leaned over to the spot and rubbed his finger on it. It was kinda wet...and sticky. He leaned into it more with his nose almost touching the spot and took a couple of sniffs. “Yuck!” Jack quickly sat back up and gagged. Blood. And it was fresh too.

“Jean, did your beastie sister thing kill something?” he asked, looking over at Jean and holding up his finger with the blood on it.

“Non. Not today, I don’t think, Capitaine,” Jean answered, shaking his head. Constance hopped off the barrel and strutted over to Jean. She curled up into his lap and he began to pet her.

They all looked at each other, wondering where the blood came from. Jack shrugged it off as he pushed his book and his food off his lap and he got up to go see how his first mate was doing.

Jack strode across the deck to Arabella. She was looking out to the sea and her auburn hair blew into her beautiful face. She still appeared to be in great discomfort. The self-appointed captain leaned his back against the railing and cleared his throat, catching the girl’s attention.

“So,” he began. “How’re you feeling?”

Arabella shrugged again and looked at Jack. “I’ve not been feeling too well for the past day. Not too bad...I’ve just been in pain and unhappy. I’ve also had this weird craving for gingerbread...and I don’t even like gingerbread.”

Jack looked away and thought for a moment. He then turned back to her. “Hmm..., I can gather from what you are telling me, is that you’re probably pregnant.”

“Oh, shut up!” Arabella said, slapping Jack’s arm playfully. “If I was pregnant, I would probably be throwing up all over ye right now!” Jack chuckled a bit and Arabella couldn’t help but laugh a little as well. The pain returned and she stepped away from Jack, further towards the bow.

Jack saw something on the deck from the corner of his eye and he looked down to where Arabella was just standing. A sudden brief feeling of déjà vu came upon him. Was he seeing things? He rubbed his eyes and looked at the spot again. Nope, still there. He held up his finger, which was still blood-stained, and he stared at both the spot and his finger. Yup, it was the same blood.

“Hey, Bell,” Jack looked up at Arabella. He was about to tell her about the spots he had just found when he saw something that made him double-take.

The former barmaid’s skirts were torn a bit from their mission, so the boys, and at this moment, Jack was able to see her feet, and what was in between them. Another dark red spot was between her feet. Something dripped from under her skirt onto the spot. Jack’s eyes bulged out of his head and his jaw went agape. He looked at his finger, then back at the spot under her skirt.

“Lass...”

“How many times do I have to tell ye not to call me lass?” She turned to him and put her hands on her hips. The spot of blood was still between her feet.

Jack had difficulty forming words from his mouth. He slowly pointed to her feet with a slightly shaking hand. “Y-you’re...bleeding!”

“Huh?” Arabella seemed confused. She looked down to where Jack was pointing. All color drained from her face as if she had seen something cursed. “Oh...my...stars...”

The rest of the boys sat quietly on the deck. Jean was petting his cat sister, Tumen just barely finished his meal, and Fitzwilliam sat looking at his empty plate thinking about Arabella.

“I sure hope Arabella is alright,” Fitzwilliam said grimly.

“Me too,” Tumen quietly agreed.

“As do I,” Jean chimed in. “Knowing her, she will be fine.”

Just as he spoke, the boys heard a scream from across the deck that made them jump in a startle.

“SHE’S BLEEDING!”

Constance bolted out of Jean’s lap and the boys jumped straight onto their feet and ran over to the source of the scream.

“Mademoiselle! What is wrong?!” Jean called out as he and Tumen ran to the panicked teens.

“HALT! Who goes there?!” Fitzwilliam followed after, pointing his sword in battle mode. He then lowered his sword when he saw what was happening.

“She’s covered in blood! She sat on a nail!!” the brave and fearless captain screeched, covering his mouth. His voice cracked as if he was going to cry.

Constance crept over to one of the blood spots and sniffed at it. The cat gagged, spat at the ground, and ran off below decks.

“She’s on her period you uneducated dolt!” Fitzwilliam snarled as he sheathed his sword, trying not to sound panicked himself. He knew for sure having grown up around elder sisters.

“Disgusting,” Tumen muttered. Jean elbowed him in the ribs.

“What do I do?!” Arabella whimpered. She closed her legs and hugged herself.

“You’ve not had one before?” Fitzwilliam questioned.

“Does it look like I’ve had one before?!” Arabella shrieked.

“Congratulations, mon ami! You are a woman now!” Jean cheered, throwing an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Congratulations?! She’s bleeding to death!” Jack exclaimed.

“Oh lord...she’s not had her period before. She doesn’t know what to do—we don’t know what to do...” Fitzwilliam quaked. As much as he tried to keep his strong and brave demeanor, it was clear on his face that he was panic stricken as well. “I-I think we have something below decks. We HAVE to have something, right?” The aristocrat backed away and ran below decks.

“I can’t believe this is happening!” Arabella trembled as Jean comforted her.

“Hurry, Fitzy! She’s dying!!” Jack cried out, his voice and body still shaking.

“She is not dying, Monsieur Sparrow!” Jean snapped.

Fitzwilliam ran back up with a mop and a large bucket of water. “Here.”

“What is that gonna do?!” Jack screamed.

“Umm...I don’t know! I don’t know what in the bloody hell you want me to do!” Fitzwilliam retorted.

“Go and get something else! What are you waiting for?!” Jack ordered. Fitzwilliam placed the bucket and mop down a ran back below deck.

“Oh, my stomach hurts!” Arabella moaned.

“Don’t worry, Arabella. You’ll be fine. It's all perfectly normal,” Jean consoled. Tumen nodded in agreement.

“Ahhh! She’s having contractions!” Jack shrieked.

He scrambled around, hyperventilating and trying to figure out what to do. Just then, a cargo ship came sailing by not far from the Barnacle, going the same direction they were going before their meal stop. Jack stepped onto the railing and started yelling and flailing his arms.

“HELP US!! MY FRIEND IS BLEEDING BETWEEN HER LEGS AND SHE’S DYING!!” Jack shouted. The men on the ship looked confused at first, then began to laugh. “WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!”

“Stop it, Jack! Yer embarrassing me!” Arabella cried, pulling Jack off the railing.

“AHH! DON’T TOUCH ME!” Jack pulled himself away from his bleeding first mate’s grip, tumbled backwards, and fell into the bucket of water Fitzwilliam had put down. Arabella’s hands flew to her mouth and she screamed a little. The men on the other ship continued to laugh as they sailed past the Barnacle.

“Calme, calme!” Jean called out, trying to get everyone’s attention and to quiet down. He walked over to Arabella, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her away towards the hatch. Tumen quickly rushed over to the captain to help him out of the bucket.

“Come on now, Arabella. Don’t worry about it,” Jean assured. “Let’s go below decks and clean you up. Once everyone has calmed down, we’ll continue to set sail. We’re almost to port, so we’ll get you more...proper supplies when we get there. Oui?”

Just as Jean was about to open the hatch, Fitzwilliam burst through the door. First the first time ever, his usually perfect hair was ever so slightly messed up, and his face and neck were drenched in sweat.

He stood there for a second trying to catch his breath. “My lady! I believe I may have found something that could plug it up,” Fitzwilliam presented what looked like white linen that was neatly folded, and a cork with a string attached to it.

Arabella rolled her eyes, and she and Jean pushed past Fitz to the stairs and down the hatch. Fitzwilliam turned and looked over at Tumen and the dripping Jack.

“It’s only been a few minutes that I’ve been gone. What have I missed for you all to get to this point?” he asked with a puzzled look.

Jack was about to say something when he recognized one of the things Fitzwilliam had in his hands that was his.

“That is my shirt, you idiot!!” Jack shouted angrily. He picked up the bucket of water he had just been pulled out from and charged at the aristo with it, who had dropped the shirt and cork and began to run.

Tumen stood over by the railing looking out to sea as he listened to the two boys chase each other around the ship. He laughed as he thought to himself: what was he and Jean thinking when they agreed to join this crew?

[evening-rose-309]

GrindelZeus (aHA, a hard one) rust, and tension. Remember though, no rush!

Fair warning, I have no idea what this is. It came to me right after you answered my ask just now even though I already had something in the works for it going on since last fucking weekend. It is a fucking mess and I am slightly confused as to how I even came up with it.

Still, enjoy I guess <'3

•-----•

There is nothing for him. Absolutely nothing.

"You beast! You fucking monster!"

He swallows the bile pooling at his throat. He swallows the guilt, the pain, the ire.

A bitter taste, it corrodes his throat.

"You killed her! You fucking killed her!"

The ring is still on his finger. After all this time. All that remains. It sits there, rotting, eating at his flesh, flaking away.

"You're a monster!"

He spins it, rolls it around. His finger aches, but that's not a problem is it?

"Get out…"

No, the problem is him. His feeble morality, his goodness, peeling off of him like so many layers of gold flaking off a rotting picture frame. It hurts, it stings, but the acid rain feels warmer than the lies, falseties, the forced smiles.

"GET OUT!"

There is nothing for him. He chose his path, thinking he'd finally find a purpose, a reason.

The reasons have died, and all that is left, is nothing.

----

Theseus bristled in his chains. The rusted old things, blast them, no matter how hard he tugged, they still wouldn't break. He'd been at this for hours damn it, why won't they break!?

"Had enough yet?"

He growled, baring his teeth like a wild animal.

"Never."

Grindelwald sighed in his chair. Theseus kept on tugging.

"You know you really shouldn't do that."

He did so anyway.

"These chains are centuries old. They've held a thousand prisoners without breaking, without even denting a smidge. You're more likely to break your wrist that anything else."

"Fuck you," he spat.

Grindelwald hummed, but said no more.

Two weeks. That's how long he'd spent in this blasted dungeon. Three weeks since Paris and Dumbledore's affirmation that he'd be able to break the blood pact. His brother had been relieved, but left them all too soon to go on his next creature expedition. The American auror Goldstein trailed with him and Theseus couldn't have been happier. Or, he would have been, had Newt specifically asked for him not to tell Travers about the muggle he was smuggling along for the trip. Said auror chief had taken a few days to recover his pride, but after that was soon back on his bullshit, sending Theseus and the rest of them on more wild goose chases across Europe. He'd not exactly enjoyed them, but went through all the same. They served a good distraction, better than drinking away his woes, after Leta.

Perhaps they shouldn't have been so cocky. Perhaps he should've have felt so relieved.

It could have been an eternity when his body finally caved. His legs gave out, crumbling beneath him, the rotting metal of his binds still stubbornly secured to the wall. Theseus panted, the damp air of the dungeon filling his tired lungs. It was then that the dark lord rose from his mock throne, towards him, a tankard in hand.

"Open your mouth" Theseus heard, and when he did not comply, the dark lord went for his jaw. An iron grip, Theseus struggled as the fingers dug into his cheeks.

"Don't make me break your teeth in, Scamander."

It was no empty threat, as the hand went from his jaw to grip the very roots of his tangled hair. A grip so tight it stung and the lip of the tankard came to knock against his teeth as he winced.

"Open", so he did. Water flowed, fresh, cool water. It filled his mouth as he swallowed it greedily. This was the first time he'd ever been given fresh water since he'd gotten here, most of the bowls they'd graced him with before were either mold filled or simple tasted like rust or stale milk. He drank and drank and drank. Somehow, the tankard didn't seem to empty.

At some point, the need for air arose. He tried to move, but Grindelwald didn't relent. He held him there as the water kept pouring. His throat closed and Theseus began to choke.

"Greedy little thing," he heard as his lungs burned. "This is what the ministry does to all its prisoners, yes? You make them drink and drink and drink till they can't and you let them drown."

He tried to shake his head, frantically pulling at the chains. Muffled pleas and 'no's filled the room as he struggled. His eyes were beginning to water.

"No? Well perhaps you just haven't seen it yet. Does Travers not let his golden boy do any of the dirty work?"

He did. He did quite often. Theseus couldn't count the number of people he'd interrogated over the years that Travers had him torture. It hadn't been pretty, nor had he actually wanted to do it. There'd been countless, horrific things he'd seen Travers do, but he was always up front. He always showed the prisoners the truth up front. A whip, a club, a cruciatus curse. The pain was up front, the horror, the anticipation was clear. It was never like this. Never pain disguised as kindness, as salvation, of all things.

Theseus shook his head fervently, beginning to feel it spin, the chains biting deeper into his wrist, the rust scoring his flesh.

Then it stopped. The water stopped and he breathed, the tankard pulled unceremoniously from his mouth. He breathed, coughing, traces of water sputtering out of his mouth onto the floor like drool. He shivered and heaved, not noticing that the hand in his hair hand loosened its grip and had begun to pet him.

"You're poor sod Scamander, you know that right?"

He didn't reply.

"Travers has abandoned you. I gave my offer to trade you for Albus a week ago and he outright refused."

No.

"Yes", Theseus coughed. "Said you weren't worth much anyway. So much for golden boy, isn't it? Theseus the war hero, sacrificing himself for the sake of another war, forever remembered for his bravery."

He shook his head, reeling. No no no. They wouldn't leave him. They couldn't. Newt would never let them, Newt wouldn't-

"No he wouldn't, and he did try. A shame no one knows where we are. Even if he did, not even a dragon could break through these walls Theseus. They're cursed, you see. Blood feeds them. It feeds this entire castle. A dragon or an army of dragons would simply make it stronger."

The dark lord paused. Theseus froze too, as the other man began to kneel beside him, the grip in his hair tightened once more.

Grindelwald whispered into his ear.

"Let me tell you a secret, Theseus," he said. "These chains? They used to be gold. Every frame, every bit of metal in this house used to be gold. They were beautiful. Beautiful, and fed with blood magic, blood itself. Over the years they've rusted over or simply darkened. They haven't had a good meal in so long. My ancestors used to force hundreds of muggles into these cells. The castle was beautiful then. It isn't anymore. Too many lives have been lost, too much blood. And frankly, too much hassle to gather up that many people just to feed it."

He tilted Theseus' head. Odd eyes met his, chilling him to his core.

"You have two choices, Theseus. Join me and let the chains starve. Let them rot and fall apart. You can see Newt again. Leta- yes Leta, don't worry she isn't gone just yet -and Queenie and Credence. Or, you could stay down here. Become food for the chains. You'll die, shrouded in gold, all chained up pretty like a bird, your soul trapped by these chains forever."

Theseus shivered. Join with one monster or become food for another. On one hand, he'd be betraying his brother, his dear brother who's lost as much as he has. On one hand, Leta. Leta, and maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to fell Grindelwald's cause from the inside. It was either that or-

He swallowed, suddenly the bite of the chains didn't seem so metaphorical anymore.

Grindelwald stood suddenly, and without anything to hold him up, Theseus fell to his side, the cold of the wet stone floor seeping into his clothes, lapping his face.

"I'll let you think about it," the dark lord said. "Tomorrow morning when I return, you better have an answer."

Then he turned and marched slowly away. Theseus couldn't help it anymore, when Grindelwald turned his back, he curled in on himself, shivering. The answer on the tip of his tongue, but his throat to sore to voice it. Tomorrow, he promised himself, tomorrow things will change.

It was then, he didn't know why, that he noticed something on Grindelwald's finger as he was walking away. As his vision started to blur, he pondered it. He didn't know why, but he did.

Theseus fell asleep then, the world inking out, the only things on his mind Grindelwald's words and the dark metal band wrapped around the dark lord's finger.

[nothingidputbeforeyou]

Do Not Go Where I Cannot Follow

- fic under the cut, wincest set during early season 3

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432360

Evelyn saw the boys first. No surprise, really. Evvie liked to wake up before her sister and take a stroll around the cemetery, clear the cobwebs from her mind. That saying always made her laugh now. It had been one of her favorite sayings in life. In death, it could be taken very literally.

She had finished a full circuit of her final resting place, stepping over fallen stones and through thick weeds that flourished since the last caretaker had retired 30 years back. A full moon sat low in the sky, not fully risen, huge and orange. As she stopped to take it in, a crashing came from the underbrush that grew wild along the old county road. A howl rose up that would have chilled her to her very marrow if she had any marrow left to chill. Not that she was scared of this rueben. He couldn’t even see her let alone hurt her. But that didn’t stop her from getting a few goosepimples at the sounds he made. She saw the monster silhouetted against the moon and clucked her tongue. She’d seen this fellow before, twice in the past two months. He’d taken to hanging out, looking for the teenagers who invariably wound up here daring each other to sit on The Sisters’ Bench or sneak into the mausoleum.

The beast ran within a foot of Evvie, eyes wild not with the usual bloodlust but with a very human fear. Out of the same thicket came two boys. Not boys, really. Men. Big and handsome, both of them. Evvie had only been about 5’4” in life and the taller of the two dwarfed her by a solid foot.

The other one, no Tiny Tim himself, ran by her pistol in hand. “Flank him, Sammy!”

“On it!” The big man put on a burst of speed and caught up with the wolf effectively boxing him in along the side of the old Straker mausoleum. Cornered, the creature snarled and bared its teeth, obviously preparing to launch itself at the neck of the one named Sammy.

“Do it and you’ll be dead before you get one paw on him, fuzzbutt,” the other man’s voice was as cold and hard as the barrel of the gun he had trained on the creature.

It froze for a second as though considering the words then shook off the hesitation and sprang.

A shot rang out, just one, and the thing slumped to the ground, transforming as he fell into a rather nondescript man in his 20s.

“Did you see that, Sam? One shot, right to the heart.”

“Yeah, Dean. I was standing right here.”

“So you saw how awesome I was.”

Sam sighed. “Yep.”

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Say I’m awesome.” The one called Dean was clearly still buzzing with adrenaline, grinning like a madman.

“Fuck off, Dean. I have burrs stuck all over me from those bushes we ran through and I ripped my shirt. I don’t really feel like indulging you right now.”

He was so focused on picking burrs out of his hair that he didn’t see Dean move towards him like quicksilver, sweeping his legs out from under him, bringing both men down to the moss-covered ground. Sam let out a surprised gasp as Dean wound up on top of him, pinning his arms above his head and smiling down at him with the purest expression of love and need she’d ever seen.

Oh, thought Evvie. So that’s how it is.

“Get off me, dick.”

“Make me, Sammy.”

Sam shifted his hips slightly arching up against Dean. Dean’s eyes went wide and frantic. Sam took advantage of Dean’s moment of distraction by wrapping one of those long legs around Dean’s torso and flipping him onto his back.

“Okay, sasquatch. You win. I get it. Let me up.”

Sam pulled himself up and offered a hand to Dean who was a little slower getting to his feet, possibly due to the amount of subtle adjustments he needed to make to his pants.

Just when things were getting interesting.

Dean turned and saw the stone bench that connected Evelyn’s own gravestone to her sister Lydemia’s. He plopped down and developed a sudden interest in retying his shoes probably to hide just how happy certain areas of him had been about the wrestling.

“Dean. Did you seriously not listen to anything I read to you about this place?”

“What? Of course I was listening.”

“Really? Then why did you just sit on The Sisters’ Bench?”

“The what now?”

“That stone thing you parked your cute ass on just now? It’s not just a bench. It connects the graves of two sisters. Lydemia and Evelyn Whitmore. See? Evelyn was younger but she died first in a car accident. The sisters were what people called spinsters. In their 40s, never married, no kids, lived together their whole lives. After Evelyn died in 1949, they say Lydemia killed herself. Couldn’t live without her. The bench says ‘DO NOT GO WHERE I CANNOT FOLLOW’ right here on the edge and if you sit on it during a full moon, the legend says that you won’t be able to get up until morning. Or until the sisters release you.”

“You know that’s probably just one of those legends kids tell each other so they can sneak out here to check it out. Then blah blah blah heavy petting.”

“So why not check it out right now? Try to stand up.”

“Okay but after I show you that I can get up, no problem, I get heavy petting.”

“Hey, I’m fine with that. Are you?” Sam’s eyes held a challenge.

Dean avoided Sam’s gaze and stood. Or tried to. His legs tried valiantly to lift him but his posterior stayed planted right where it was.

“Oh for fucks sake. The ONE TIME a stupid legend is real and we found it.”

“That one Crybaby Bridge out in Washington was real too. Remember?”

“What the hell, Sam. My ass is stuck to a stone bench and you want to reminisce?”

“Just saying. Anyway, no one has ever been hurt on this bench. If they’re dumb enough to sit here during a full moon-” Sam shot a dimpled grin at Dean “-they just stay for awhile. Until they get released or the sun comes up. I’m not sure why the bench lets go of some people early but…”

“Because they’re annoying.” Evelyn’s sister whispered in her ear. “And I don’t want to deal with them for one more second.”

Evvie shivered at the husky timbre of her sister’s voice. “Good evening, Lyddie. Did you sleep well?”

“I did until some four-flusher ran across my grave. Was it these two?”

“No. Or rather yes but only because they were chasing that scoundrel.” Evvie pointed at the dead man lying a few feet away.

“My stars. Would you look at that, Ev. He’s in his birthday suit.”

“I know. But before he was in the all-together, he was wearing a wolf’s skin.”

Lyddie’s dark eyes twinkled behind her cat’s-eye glasses. “That maroon? They got him?? Well, bless their hearts. No more dead teenagers bringing the coppers out here. Guess I should let him up then.”

She moved towards the boys but Evvie snaked out a hand and stopped her, pulling herself up to her full height. Ev might only have been 5’4” but that still gave her 3 inches on her older sister. “DON’T” she yelled.

Lyddie looked taken aback “What’s with you, featherbrain? You want me to leave him stuck there? Why? So you can look at him?” Lydemia’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the man on the bench. “Hmph. A pretty one. You always were a sucker for a pretty face, Evelyn.”

“I went on ONE DATE with Burdette, Lyd. ONE. You KNOW that.”

“”I do know that, Evelyn. Because he was killed in that tragic accident shortly thereafter.”

“You dropped a tractor on him. Some accident.”

“He tried to force himself on you! It’s hardly my fault that when I went out there with daddy’s old shotgun to have a little talk about his behavior, he was working on his tractor, got spooked by the gun, and kicked the jack out.”

“I’m sorry. I feel bad for bringing that up again. I know you’d never...”

“No, I definitely would have dropped a tractor on him but the good lord and Bud’s own stupidity beat me to it. Anyway. If it’s not the view, why don’t want me to let this one go?”

“Oh. Yes. Because they seem to have a few issues that they don’t want to discuss. Maybe a few hours trapped here will cure them.”

“Issues?” A confused look crossed Lyddie’s lovely face.

“I think they’re..well. A little lavender, if you will? And maybe they’re having a problem dealing with it?”

“Oh please, Ev. It’s the 2000s. Plenty of people are gay, even way out here in the middle of nowhere. We’ve seen that much with our own eyes.” she smiled at her sister mischievously. They both enjoyed watching the couples who came here to neck and it didn’t matter what gender those people happened to be. It all broke up the monotony and passed the time.

“Maybe so but something isn’t right. They’re obviously in love but they’re holding back, refusing to talk about it. A little push might be in order.”

Lyddie turned back to where Dean sat on the bench still trying to pull himself to his feet. Sam looked on, clearly amused by his plight. “Great idea, love.”

She disappeared in a blink and while Evvie watched, Sam spun around startled before sitting down hard on the bench next to Dean.

“Lyd! I didn’t mean you should push him!!”

Lyddie reappeared at Ev’s side. “Really? Whoops.” She winked at her sister in a way Evelyn had never been able to resist and Evvie found herself laughing.

On the bench, Dean turned to Sam “What just happened?”

“It felt like someone spun me around and then pushed me.”

“That’s what you get.” he said petulantly.

Sam looked out at the graveyard thoughtfully. “Guess the sisters really are hanging around.”

“If that’s the case, they clearly like me better. I do love ladies with discriminating taste.”

Sam’s snort was scornful. “Like you care.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Need me to spell it out? Okay. You love pretty much any woman who so much as glances your way.”

“Are you calling me a slut, Sammy?”

“If the boots-with-2-inch-platform-heels-that-you-wear-so-you-won’t-look-way-shorter-than-me fit…”

Dean’s face was mutinous but he clamped his jaw shut..

“Well, there’s your answer, Ev,” Lyddie said quietly. “Dean can’t keep his willy in his pants. Sam’s mad about it. That’s not something a good gabfest is going to fix.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Feels like there’s more to it.”  She turned her eyes back to the boys. Dean was regarding Sam with an earnestness that clutched at her heart.

“Look, Sam...you know we can’t do this. You know why we can’t do it. So what...I’m supposed to be a monk? Can’t have sex with you, can’t have sex with anybody ever?”

“Who said you can’t have sex with me? You can! Hell, you HAVE.”

Evvie’s eyes were glued to the boys as Lyddie pinched her arm with glee and whispered, “I am so sorry I ever doubted your motives for keeping them here. This is good.”

“One time.” Dean looked furious. “One slip in all this time. And you DIED not long after that. I think that’s the universe sending me a pretty clear message, don’t you?”

“I didn’t die because we had sex, you idiot. I died because I got stabbed... Wait a minute. Is that what you think? That I got killed to...what? Punish you for fucking your brother?”

The two spirits observing gasped in perfect sync.

“Sam died?” said Evvie just as Lyddie said “They’re brothers?”

“Dean. I died because of the demon. And Jake. And mom’s deal. And a thousand other little things that led up to that day. Having sex with you? Not one of those things. It’s not connected. You know that, right?”

Dean refused to meet his eyes so Sam reached out, physically turned Dean’s head his way. “Do you know that, Dean?” Sam’s voice was barely a whisper now and Dean leaned towards his brother, maybe to hear him better, maybe not. Maybe it was a gravitational force pulling them together from the moon, from the bench, from their hearts. Who could tell?

“Can I pop up and push their heads together, Evvie? Please?”

“What? No.”

“If you let me, I’ll never ask you for anything ever again.”

“You know what? Fine. No popping though. You’ll ruin the mood. Just a gentle shove.”

“Poo. You’re such a stick in the mud.”

Lyddie disappeared again but this time Ev could see her outline against the boys. She was reaching out to make them kiss when they finally caught a clue and did it themselves.

“Ahh,” Evvie let out a happy sigh. “True love.”

Suddenly back at her side, Lyddie laughed and grabbed Ev’s hand. “Nothing like it.”

“Nothing.” She leaned in and kissed her sister softly.

“Hey, Ev?” Lyddie murmured a while later.

“Now you’re ruining this mood, Lydemia! For heaven’s sake, what is it?”

“I never let them up.”

“What...oh goodness. I guess you’d better…” she looked past her sister’s form at the two men twined together on the bench and smiled.

“No. They’re doing fine. It’ll be morning in another hour anyway. And I have plans for you before then, dear sister.” Evvie grabbed Lyd’s hand and pulled her away. She looked back and was surprised to see Sam staring directly at her. He could obviously see her. Which meant he knew exactly what had transpired here. She smiled and gave a small wave. He grinned back, dimples in full force and mouthed “Thank you.”  

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Alive Again Part 3

Harry Potter AU 

Link to Part two

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T

______

You were the first to wake up the next morning. Turning on your side, you were relieved to see Regulus lying beside you. You smiled, resisting the urge to gently kiss him. He looked so peaceful sleeping. You reached out, stroking his cheek.

“You're staring at me again, aren’t you?”

Regulus asked, not opening his eyes. You giggled and finally pressed a kiss to his cheek. The two of you had finally fallen asleep around four am. You prayed that Astaria would sleep in. If only an hour or two later than normal would be fine. You needed some time with Regulus alone. Judging by his own desperation to keep you under him, he needed this time just as much.

“Maybe I am.”

You replied tracing your finger over his lips. He threw an arm around you to pull your body back to his.

“You’re too far away. Keep me warm, woman.”

He said opening one eye with a smirk. You threw your leg over his hip to prevent either of you from moving too far from the other.

The sound of Evan’s voice coming from the dining room got both of your attention. Regulus poked his head up first hearing his best friend.

“You know he won’t believe anything.”

You said, darkly. It didn’t take being Evan’s sister to know how he would react. Evan would believe anything that Voldemort told him and nothing Regulus would say. It didn’t matter that Regulus was his best friend and had put together some secret that the dark lord didn’t want to be figured out. Your prior thought about Evan grabbing an ankle for Voldemort returned.

Regulus stood up and began to dress.

“I know he won’t. I also don’t think my mother will enjoy being told that her way of thinking is wrong either. My suggestion, my love, is to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

You were fixing the bra that Regulus had torn off of you before you looked up.

“Where will we go?”

Regulus’ eyes flickered in your direction before giving you his best scowl.

“Just do what I say.”

Regulus kept his eyes on you as if silently pleading with you. He would never be the begging type and you knew it. It didn’t take growing up together to know what Regulus was and what he was not.

“Fine.”

You replied. Regulus quickly closed the distance between your body and his. His right hand tilted your face to him.

“You're still such a stubborn girl. It's no wonder that I fell so hopelessly in love with you. Like I said last night...it's time to see how brave you really are.”

Regulus followed you downstairs to the dining room. From your place by the door, you could see Walburga watching Evan interact with Astaria with an expression of approval. Evan was the closest thing that she had to Regulus when he “died.”

Astaria meanwhile was busy playing with a stuffed owl that Evan had given her. She sat happily in her uncle’s arms and would smile up at him coyly every few moments. Astaria, being only two, already knew how to work her uncle to her advantage. When Evan was around, if she wanted something then she knew who to go to. If she squeezed out a few tears and lip wiggles then BAM instant whatever it was.

“She looks so much like her father. I feel like Regulus is looking back at me sometimes.”

Evan said with a sad smile.

“Daddy’s sleeping with mummy.”

Astaria said as she continued to pet her new stuffy. Walburga’s eyes fell to her granddaughter. The older woman hadn’t said anything to Evan about Regulus being alive. She was going to leave that to her son as she still had questions that needed to be answered too.

“What did you say, sweetpea?”

Evan asked, wanting to make sure that he had heard his niece right. The little girl looked up with a sassy frown. At two years old, she didn’t like repeating herself.

“Daddy is sleeping with mummy.”

Regulus nudged your forward when Evan’s face went white. He had heard his niece right. What did that mean? There was no way…

The moment that Regulus walked into the room with you, Evan nearly passed out. He rubbed his hands over his eyes a few times. Evan wondered if this was actually some drunken dream and not reality.

“See?”

Astaria said, not bothering to look up at her uncle’s stunned face. All that she knew was her daddy and mummy were right across the room. That was all that mattered other than petting her new toy.

“Regulus…”

Evan stuttered. You knew your brother was within an inch of losing it.

“I felt the same way, Evan. This is no joke.”

Regulus didn’t meet his mother’s gaze. He kept his attention locked on Evan’s petrified face.

“How are you alive? The dark lord said…”

Regulus motioned for you to get Astaria. He was ready for this conversation to go south very quickly. When Evan Rosier was backed into a corner, he would be the first to last out at anyone that was nearby. Now he was about to be told that he was in the wrong on everything...he would resume his “ready to kill” temper. Regulus would make god damn sure that Evan wouldn’t lay an unloving hand on you or Astaria.

“You need to find new friends.”

Regulus said, casually. Evan’s shocked expression turned into confusion.

“What is that supposed to me?”

“Exactly what I said. I didn’t stutter.”

Regulus snapped as you returned to his side. Evan stood up as his mind was finally able to begin to work again.

“Are you saying that you doubt our master?”

Regulus chuckled.

“He isn’t nothing to me of that nature.”

Walburga was the next one to speak. She was tired of her youngest son ignoring her and she was not to be ignored anymore.

“Regulus Arcturus Black, what are you saying?”

Regulus turned his attention back to his mother. He was about to rock her world and for once he didn’t care. This time Regulus would not try to calm his mother so she wouldn’t lose her temper. Walburga could go crazy for all Regulus cared. She could scream, throw things, cry like a baby if she wanted but Walburga was about to be told.

“I’m saying that everything you ever taught me, everything that I ever believed is wrong. Both of you are foolish for believing in a thing that Voldemort has to say. Evan, if you were smart you would grab something valuable and run for it.”

Evan looked disgusted by his best friend’s words.

“What happened to you while you were at the bottom of that lake? Did almost becoming an inferi teach you nothing? The dark lord is not to be messed with and what you are saying is a one-way ticket to death...that you won’t escape from.”

Regulus only blinked.

“Are you threatening me? I suppose you are going to run right to Voldemort and tell him everything? I guess I should be frightened. Tell him that I said hello and know his secret.”

Evan’s surprised expression had turned furious.

“Y/n, get away from him. Get Astaria and come to me at once.”

You looked between Evan, Walburga, and Regulus. Stepped closer to Regulus, you let him wrap his arm around your waist. He gently took Astaria into his arms tucking her head against his shoulder.

“My place is with my husband.”

You stated defiantly. Evan was seething.

“You’ll be hunted like animals. If you think that I won’t tell him the truth...you’re both mistaken.”

Evan started for you but was stopped when Regulus hexed him.

“Do what you have to.”

He replied before turning his attention to his mother.

“Au revoir, mere.” (good bye, mother)

Regulus quickly apparated the three of you from Grimmauld Place. The next thing that you knew, you were standing outside of a small brick home.

“Reggie, where are we?”

You questioned as he placed your daughter back in your arms. Astaria was looking around, totally confused herself. Regulus glanced over his shoulder before knocking on the door. He chose not to respond. Regulus could have told you that you were about to see him “kiss ass” but decided not to.

“Somewhere safe.”

A moment later, Sirius opened the door. His mouth fell the moment that he saw his younger brother, whom he thought was dead on his doorstep. Sirius blinked a few times before being able to close his mouth.

“Please tell me that you are real.”

Regulus reached out and pinched Sirius’ arm hard causing the older brother to yelp.

“Is that real enough for you?”

Regulus questioned. Sirius nodded before meeting your gaze. The two of you haven't spoken since before you married Regulus. He had tried to persuade you to say no to the engagement. There were no romantic intentions (you knew that he was happy with Remus) instead, it was Sirius worrying about your safety.

“Y/n!”

His eyes finally fell on the niece that he didn’t know that he had. Sirius didn’t have to ask questions. He knew that was his niece.

“Can we come in?”

Regulus finally asked. He was getting the hint that Sirius was still in a state of shock and the whole “being safe” thing was beginning to evaporate.

Sirius quickly moved aside. This was something that he never expected. After he received your owl about Regulus dying, he couldn't get back to you. It was exactly what Sirius said would happen.

“Sweetie, he is so in deep with the death eaters that you will end up a widow by 20.”

Now it appeared that he was wrong about everything. His little brother was alive. He still looked as cocky and arrogant as he did the last time that Sirius tried to talk him out of joining the death eaters. Sirius tried not to let his mind go there but he couldn't help it…

“Don’t do it, Regulus. I’m begging you. You can come to our side. No one will hurt you. You're my brother and I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Regulus stood with his hood up. All that Sirius could see was his mouth and chin. Regulus did everything that he could to conceal his identity.

“I am no one to you. You made that perfectly clear years ago.”

Sirius wanted nothing more than to grab Regulus and shake him.

“You know that isn’t true. I begged you to come with me. I could have taken care of you.”

Regulus sneered.

“No, you wouldn’t. You would ignore my existence just like you do at school. Don’t you dare say you won't because you fucking do. It's too late anyway.”

Sirius was going to regret asking but he had to.

“What about Y/n? Do you want to make her a widow by the time the two of you are 20?”

Regulus chuckled.

“We have an understanding.”

He quickly unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt enough to pull the sleeve up. Sirius looked ill the moment that his eyes landed on the dark mark...just like that his innocent baby brother was gone never to return….

It was Remus that pulled Sirius from one of his worst memories. Remus had been reading a new book but was staring at Regulus. He too was clearly stunned and confused by the youngest Black brother’s apparent existence.

“I’m confused.”

Remus stuttered. He met your gaze then froze the moment that he saw the little girl in your arms. He had no idea that you were pregnant. Sirius said nothing about it. From the heartbroken expression on Sirius’ face, Remus knew that his lover didn’t know. Had he known, Sirius would never have missed this much time in her life.

Regulus sighed.

“I am going to say this once and will never speak of it again. You all were right about the dark lord.”

Sirius blinked. Had this situation been different, he would have said something snarky. Today he couldn’t.

“It's taken you a long time to figure this out.”

Remus said, calmly. Regulus smirked.

“This long and lying at the bottom of a lake nearly drowned helped me come to my senses.”

Remus winced and found that he was unable to meet Sirius’ gaze. Sirius had blamed himself for Regulus’ fate since the day that he got the letter from you about his death. There had been many nights that Sirius would cry himself out of tears after drinking all of the alcohol in the house. Only Remus knew this fact…

“I don’t think Astaria should be hearing this.”

You said, gently. Sirius nodded. The little girl was looking intently between her father and Remus.

Sirius stepped forward and knelt down to Astaria’s level. You had sat her down a moment before. She had waddled over to Regulus’ leg and was holding onto his robes.

“Hi, there sweetheart. I am your uncle Sirius. Do you like ice cream?”

Astaria nodded but didn’t let go of her father. Sirius smirked. There was no DNA test needed on who this child belonged to. She had that same calculating reserved expression that Regulus wore 95% of the time.

“It's alright.”

Regulus said, gently to the child. Astaria finally nodded. Sirius met your gaze with a smile.

“I have some ice cream if you want to go to the kitchen.”

You stepped forward and picked the little girl up.

“That will be nice. I’ll let you all talk. It's nothing that I don’t already know.”

Sirius waited until you were out of the room to face his little brother. He had to fight the urge to hug the little jerk until he begged for mercy. Sirius motioned to the couch.

“Sit down. I want to know what you have to say before I go buy myself a world’s best uncle mug.”

_______

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[mischiefs-hawk]

Grindelnewt or New Hallows Newt gets hurt/captured/what ever and all hell breaks loose. (followed by fluff)

((I hope you like it Anon!)) ((Also, shout out to @vindsie and @evening-rose-309 for answering my obscure questions

The moment the British Minister for Magic saw Newt Scamander, he decided he had to have the Magizoologist. How could he not? The boy was breath taking, with pale skin dotted with freckles. Minister Fawley wanted to know if his whole body was covered in them.

Despite his position as the most powerful man in the country, he couldn’t get himself alone with the younger Scamander. If Auror Scamander wasn’t at his side, then it was the American Auror on international assignment, or the Muggle or Auror Scamander’s fiancé. He simply could never get Newton by himself.

It was frustrating.

Not long after the mess in Paris, Minister Fawley finally had an opportunity. He refused to wait another moment without the Magizoologist. Fawley wanted him, and he would have him. Even if he was arguably going about it in the wrong way. The amorentia would only be until Newton truly did love him.

It couldn’t be too hard to do? From what he’d heard around the Ministry, the young Scamander loved his beasts and clearly Fawley was much better then them.

Though, the older man thought, when Newton marries me we will have to find him a more suitable profession. Perhaps even just keeping Newton at home all day? Maybe leaving him tied up so he’d be begging for Reynolds to fuck him?

As he finished up brewing the amorentia, the Minister for Magic Fawley had no idea how truly fucked he was.

“I-isn’t it a stupid idea for me to go to a Ministry event when I’m in a relationship with a Dark Lord?”

Newt Scamander was currently being held by Gellert Grindelwald, both of them wondering what the hell had gotten into Albus. Albus had been invited to go to some Ministry event that included members of the IWC as the guests.

“That isn’t widely known though- and” Albus looked away from the two- blushing a bit.

Gellert chuckled, pressing kisses to Newt’s neck

“He wants to show you off. I’ve done it enough around my followers.” The blonde shrugged

“I can’t blame him for that.”

The three of them had not been together very long. After Paris, Newt had been enraged because of Leta’s death. Until the next day when he went to Albus at Hogwarts. The Professor had given him drugged tea and used a hidden portkey to take Newt to Austria.

He’d woken up on a couch in a comfortable warm room, his head was on Albus lap who was gently petting his hair. There was a coffee table about a foot away loaded with a gently steaming teapot and the kinds of biscuits he’d favored in school.

On a loveseat across from the couch Newt’s Niffler was snuggling a pile of shiny gold coins looking much better after he’d been burned. His three babies Luke, Lisette, and Laura were close by playing with a gem that was much too large for them.

For a moment, in his still sleep addled mind, Newt wondered if Albus had taken out his Zouwu, too. That wouldn’t be good, Clara still wasn’t alright with strangers.

He still felt more or less calm until he realized that they weren’t alone in the room. Queenie and Leta were speaking quietly to one another across the room near the wide windows.

“Leta?!” Moving so quickly he practically disapparated to her side, any kind of social anxiety was gone as he embraced his future sister-in-law.

The young woman hugged him back, a small smile on his face.

“What-? I saw Grindelwald kill you.”

The young woman smiled sadly, brushing a stray tear from Newt’s eyes.

“It was a trick; the ministry was going to arrest me and fire Theseus if he didn’t comply.”

Newt gaped at her, but now everything else was slamming down on the Magizoologist too.

Where was he? Why had Albus drugged him? If Queenie was here then-?

The Magizoologist fumbled for his wand and couldn’t find it. Not surprising.

“Newt, it’s okay.” Warm hands- Albus’ led him back to the couch, the Niffler babies scurrying off the chair to hop atop Newt’s lap. Either from the lack of sleep in the past few days or the drug, the redhead didn’t feel too great. His mind felt foggy, and most of his focus was on the Niffler babies. His Niffler could defend itself if need be, but the babies were babies. They needed him- they all needed him. Could Bunty keep a hold of his creatures? Would he die here?

He couldn’t leave Theseus alone!

“Newt, love?”

Attempting to focus back on Albus, Newt looked back at the other’s piercing blue eyes.

“Why?”

The professor sighed, taking one of Newt’s hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted.

Grindelwald followed by Credence entered the room. The man’s mix-matched eyes looking over Newt in a way that made the younger man feel very uncomfortable.

“Because Albus and I both agree, you belong with us.”

That had resulted in Albus rolling his eyes and scoffing, Queenie and Leta being very displeased and Credence looking as uncomfortable to be there as Newt felt.

It was not the greatest start to a relationship, but as it seemed everything was in Newt’s life it was unusual. Yet, judging by Newt’s comfort in being in Gellert’s embrace months later, it had worked out just fine.

Now, though, Newt wondered why on Earth Albus wanted to show him off. Hell, he didn’t understand it when Gellert did it either.

“And I’ll be in attendance as well” The German murmured, pressing another kiss to Newt’s neck.

“Why? If I probably shouldn’t be there you definitely shouldn’t.”

From his place on the couch, the Hogwarts professor tried not to look as invested as he felt. Gellert had his chance to show Newt off and Albus wanted his turn- to show the political witches and wizards at the IWC how lucky he was to have the most beautiful wizard in the world at his side.

“Regardless, I would never give an opportunity to see you in a dress, as everyone glares at Albus wishing they were him.”

Though neither Gellert or Albus said it, would also be a safety precaution.

Albus had enemies too after all, including Travers who Albus and Gellert felt uncomfortable leaving Newt with.

Little did they know, it wasn’t Travers they had to worry about.

-

The night of the gala, Newt and Albus arrived arm in arm with Gellert hiding in plain sight. Newt and Albus were able to recognize him immediately as a disguised low level Ministry worker.

He winked at Newt who tried not to blush- the whispered comments made by Gellert before he left that night were echoing in Newt’s head.

The slimming black dress had apparently been pleasing to Gellert, judging by his touches and kisses.

Newt hated these kinds of things, all these people? No, thanks. Every now and then when Gellert caught his eye, the german would do something to make Newt smile.

He’d even set a foreign dignity with a wampus coat on fire. Newt may not like violence but the man had it coming.

“Mr. Scamander, how nice to see you again.”

“Uh hello Minister,” Newt wasn’t entirely sure why the Minister of Magic wanted to talk to him of all people but he could get through it until Albus came back. The professor had gotten caught up in a debate of some sort when he’d gone to get them champagne.

The Minister handed him a glass, which Newt already felt awkward about accepting. The Magizoologist was about to take a sip of the light colored liquid, absentmindedly noting that he thought it smelled like Albus’ citrus soap or maybe Gellert’s lavender cologne?

Before the drink touch his lips the glass was shot out of Newt’s hand. It shattered against the marble tile floor- catching everyone’s attention.

Gellert, in disguise, had his wand out and pointed at them. Newt couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen the German look so angry.

Albus was at his side in a moment, an arm wrapped around Newt’s waist.

The Minister was glaring at Gellert, almost as intensely.

“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?”

Gellert pointed at the shattered mess, conjuring a vile and filling it with the champagne. Dropping it in Albus hand, he explained

“I think you’ll find, Professor, that Minister Fawley just attempted to slip Mr. Scamander a Mickey Finn as colloquialism goes.”

Albus sniffed at the vial before nodding, his face grim.

“Amorentia,” he declared earning gasps from the other guests.

A love potion? Why would Fawley would to give him a love potion? He hadn’t even interacted with Fawley that much! A hello every now and then, certainly but not enough to make the other man go to such lengths!

Unless, perhaps, Fawley meant to use him against Albus? Or Gellert? Did he know?

“Auror Scamander, why don’t you take your brother home?”

Newt hadn’t noticed Theseus move by them, either. Too concerned about figuring out why someone would use him for this? He would have done anything under the influence of Amortentia even-

Oh Merlin, he could have-!

“Little one, let’s go home okay?” Theseus gently guided Newt out of the building, followed by Gellert who dropped the disguise after they disapparated back to Theseus home in London. It was slightly more convenient then returning to Nurmengard.

“I could have killed you.” That was the first thing Newt said when Gellert sat him down. Theseus had gone to make him some tea.

Gellert pulled the younger man into his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to Newt’s temple.

“We never would have let that happen. We protected you, your brother protected you, yes?” The Magizoologist nodded, trying to wipe away the tears before Gellert saw them.

Gellert caught his wrist, moving to kiss away Newt’s tears.

It wasn’t long after Theseus came back with a mug of warm tea, Pickett on his shoulder who let out an excited chirp to return to his tree. Newt let out a pained laugh as the Bowtruckle scurried back up his arm and to his shoulder.

The Auror had gone back to Newt’s flat and picked up the Bowtruckle in attempt to cheer up his little brother.

Not long afterwards Albus arrived, still looking grim as he hugged Newt. The older man practically collapsed in Newt’s arms. The thinner man looked over Albus shoulder at Gellert, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m so sorry, Newt. If I’d known he would have tried that I never would have asked you to come with me.”

Something akin to understanding came over Gellert’s face. Gellert and Newt maneuvered Albus so all three of them were hugging one another.

Despite Abus’ regret and fear that Newt could have been put in danger- that his arrogance and lust for power had put someone he cared about in danger again, despite Newt’s anxiety that not only could he have hurt his boyfriends he could have left his creatures to die without his care- really, despite it all they still had one another.

It wasn’t perfect, and Albus and Gellert were broken but it was still good.

As Theseus watched the three of them interact, he couldn’t help but admit it. If only to himself, Newt had never met a monster he couldn’t love.

[moczothe1st]

Let’s Play Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War, Part 30: Man, oh Man, oh Manfroy

Part 29

Welcome back to Fire Emblem IV: Genealogy of the Holy War.  Last week, we fought off like six armies all at once, and it was miserable, but on the plus side Hilda died. I think every game would be better if Hilda died.  This week, we finish taking her castle and… *sigh* And we regret it, probably.  This week, we start off mid-turn, so after moving most of my southern front up north toward the action, I end my turn and let the remainder of Hilda’s dorks take their shot.

… Why couldn’t they have gone down that easy last week, huh?!

Now, on our turn, the enemy is down to four dark mages with staves, and one dark bishop with a siege tome in the castle. I have Fee cut down one of the former…

And have Larcei and Seliph talk about love, because honestly I’m actually in no big hurry to finish this castle.

Larcei: I’m coming with you on this one!

Seliph: Of course you’re welcome to… but why?

Larcei: It’s odd… I’m actually a little scared…

Seliph: Odd indeed! If there’s one thing you’ve never been known for, it’s fear.

Larcei: It’s… I just…

Seliph: Shhh. I understand. Now come! After all, what could ever inspire courage quite like having you at my side.

(… Damn, Seliph, smooth like silk. You win a little more of my respect, bro.)

Larcei: Seliph…

This conversation gives Seliph +1 to his Strength; it was apparently supposed to be +3, but he was actually only one point away from his (oddly low) cap. Apparently Seliph only has a natural 25 strength cap! That seems weird considering his descent from Sigurd the Humungous.

And… sigh. Guess I should kill the stupid boss.

All right. Nothing left but sleep staves, and they can’t really hurt us. I have Fee and Altena purge them.

And now we have the problem dealt with. A little jumping around before I set off the next story segment; I have Finn zapped home, where he repairs and sells his Brave Lance. I’m going to have Fee buy it after we take Freege.  Sorry, Finn, but you’re kind of just not holding up; you lasted longer than I expected you too, but despite being decent on offense you’re just kind of fragile.  Oifey will also be benched here, I think, he can stay to defend Freege castle after we take it.  Thankfully…

… The game is polite enough to tell us where the next part of the chapter will be coming from. So I do spend a turn or two moving the kids up to this gate and ready to rock. Seliph?

Seliph: But I can’t help but wonder… are the children at Belhalla still unharmed? I pray they are…

Lewyn: Funny you should say that!

(That’s not really the appropriate response to dying children.)

Lewyn: We’ve got a visitor who’s got a bit of news on that front, Seliph.

(“I’ve seen… terrible things. Thank the gods I have no sister, for I fear I would never be able to look her in the eyes again.”)

Felipe: On secret orders from His Majesty, the abducted children were moved here to Freege for safe-keeping.

(Orders so secret that we never actually got to see Arvis give them in that whole scene where he was desperately trying to save all the children at Chalphy and failing, being immediately caught, and then getting cowed into submission by a man infinitely less powerful than himself. STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BAD FOR ARVIS, GAME.)

Felipe: Rest easy, sire. They’re all hiding in the city’s abbey, and they’re all in good health.

Seliph: And all under Hilda’s nose, at that! That you’ve kept every last child safe in Hilda’s own city… color me impressed!

Felipe: Actually, sire… Princess Ishtar deserves your thanks. Without her generous aid given in secret, we could never have done this. No Imperial soldiers dared come even close to the abbey, on pain of the princess’s wrath.

Seliph: Princess Ishtar?! But why… why would she-

Felipe: Few people in this land are as kind and caring as Princess Ishtar.  

FEW PEOPLE IN THIS LAND ARE AS KIND AND CARING AS PRINCESS ISHTAR.

YEAH SHE’S A FUCKIN’ TREASURE.

Felipe: All along, the princess has toiled behind the scenes to aid our cause.  It was Princess Ishtar herself who ensured that every last child escaped from the bowels of Belhalla.

(“Then… how comes she’s… you know… literally banging the Devil?” “Technically he’s a ghost dragon.”)

Seliph: I see… at any rate, thank the gods for their safety. I’m certain everyone will be glad to know the children are in good hands. You have my deepest thanks, Lord Felipe.

Lewyn: Well, Seliph, that’s one job done. Good to see we’re finally getting results out of this mess.

(Hey, screw you man, I’ve conquered three quarters of the country.)

Seliph: And yet, Julia still eluds us… where could she possibly be?

Lewyn: The only options left now are Belhalla and Velthomer. It’s got to be one of those two.

Seliph: And Belhalla is where Julius awaits…

Lewyn: Yeah. We’ll need to find Julia first if we want to go anywhere near Belhalla. Without Julia’s power on our side, we won’t have a hope in hell against Julius.

(Again, not technically true, but you really should listen to him on this one.)

Seliph: But no matter what’s happened, Julius is still her brother. Will she even want to fight him…

Lewyn: … You’ll have to convince her.

(I mean, you’ve met Julius. It won’t be super hard.)

Ishtar: This will require that I leave your side, even for a while. I beg your forgiveness.

Julius: Feh.

Julius: Why the rush to get out there so suddenly, Ishtar? All the soldiers they could ever throw at us could never so much as scratch me. Why even bother with those maggots?

Ishtar: Yes, I know… but for me, there is no greater pride than being one of Freege’s great mages.

(“Saving all those children? Doesn’t even compare.”)

Ishtar: My parents and brother lie dead, and I cannot stand to leave their murderers to run amok… please. All I ask is a chance for vengeance.

Julius: It sounds as if what you really want is to following your family to death on a rebel’s blade! Are you so desperate to escape me, Ishtar?

Ishtar: No… nothing like that, Lord Julius. I love you. Nothing will ever change that.

Julius: Hmhmhmhmhm… I know.  

Julius: Very well! Fight if you must. I won’t stop you.

Ishtar: Thank you… now, I beg your pardon. Meng! Bleg! Mabel! We sortie at once.

(Oh god, we are really scraping the bottom of the name barrel this time. ‘Meng’?  ‘Bleg’?)

Julius: Now, then. I think it’s time we put an end to this sorry show. Deadlords, move out!  And order Arion’s unit to attack!

(… wait, what?)

So. You may recall I told you to remember this moment.

It was important for two reasons.

First: This is the moment the war becomes winnable. You see, Manfroy is not… really all that into Loptyr. Oh, he worships him, but it’s not really about loyalty so much as sadism. Manfroy hates the world, and every single human being in it. His overall goal in life is nothing more or less than to make humanity suffer as much as possible. But he’s generally pragmatic about it. He knew the best way to hurt humanity was to revive Loptyr, who possesses incredible powers and views humans as little better than food to eat and pets to abuse. This moment, right here, is the moment that Manfroy, flush with overconfidence in the presence of his god on earth and having enjoyed a long decade and a half tormenting the entire continent, finally makes a mistake. He lets his sadism overpower his common sense for the first time. And in so doing, he gives us a real shot.

Second: Because he’s still Manfroy, he’s a total fuckwad about it.  

Remember Ayra? Waaaaaaaaay back in Verdane, remember how we recruited Ayra. How we had to get to a castle to turn her non-hostile to us, only she was between the army and the castle and she was trying to kill us the whole time?

Yeah, that’s happening again. Only it’s Julia, our lil’ atomic vampire gatling gun trying to kill us. Of course she’s just as strong as she was when she was on our side, why would you even ask.  Oh, and just for fun…

Here’s the map of what we need to achieve.  The blue X is where we are. The red X is where we need to get to save Julia.  The ravenous piranha is Ishtar’s army, waiting to pounce upon us and tear us limb from bloody limb.  And to her right, marked by the douche, is Julius. You don’t have to fight him, and you in fact definitely should not because getting anywhere near him will also draw the Deadlords out to fight you, but of course has a siege tome now and will cheerfully wreck the shit of anyone who gets anywhere near him, therefore heavily limiting the space we have to move.

And of course, Julia will be trying to kill us the whole time, and we can’t fight back and risk killing her.

And hahaha, yeah, Arion will be showing up soon.  

This is not going to be any fun, is what I’m getting at here.

First thing’s first, let’s take a look at our piranha.  

Ishtar has taken yet another level in badass; her magic has gone up two points, skill by three, luck by 2, defense by eight, and resistance by one. And this time, she’s got an actual army with her instead of fighting us alone; three Snipers, three Heroes, three Sages, three High Priests with Fortify (of course) staves, and of course…. *snerk*…. Bleg, Meng, and Mabel.

They’re three identical Falcon Knights, both in picture and stats, so I’ll only be showing one of them. Despite the intensely crappy names, they honestly three ridiculously dangerous units. They all have Earth Swords, meaning any hit they land is going to heal them, and they’ll be hitting often what with that maxed-out Speed and solid 23 skill. And to make things worse, they all have the Nihil ability to prevent us from just shooting them down with arrows or relying on Astra to solve our problems.  

So! This is going to suck. A lot. But thanks to Ced being awesome, there’s an option I can take to make this a lot more manageable.  Lana sells her Silence staff, and he buys it…

And with his 35 fucking magic he can overpower Ishtar’s 32 Resistance to Silence her up to three times, basically removing Mjolnir from the equation for this battle. And Mjolnir is like… half of this battle’s equation.

I literally cannot believe I’ve never tried this before.  From here, the army moves forward, Seliph leading the way; he’ll be attacked by quite a lot of people here, but he’s a living iron wall of destruction, and the more of these people I can lure away from the main melee, the better.  So. End turn!

(*sigh* Must you, now?)

Arion: Chalphy’s fall to our blades shall be the first step to winning back our fatherland. Now, move in! Show these liberators one final defiance from the drackoknights of Thracia!

A solid enough start! We hurt one Falcon Knight, and didn’t take much damage in return.  And now that Ishtar is in range…  

Oh, that is delicious.  Now, my first goal here is to kill at least one of these three annoyingly fast pega-bitches, but I also have to get Altena (and yes it has to be her, of course it has to be her) down to the castle to intercept Arion.  I hate everything forever.

One down!  Let’s keep this train rolling and clear out some more jerks.

Two out of three ain’t bad!

Okay, I think that’s about all the damage I’m going to get done this turn.  And not bad at all, frankly, so I’m happy.  I have Lene dance Altena, and warp her home with Lana.

Ignore the pentagram. It’s a good pentagram. Down at the bottom, Altena equips Gae Bolg and flies to just outside Arion’s range. The rest of his buddies don’t matter at all, but I don’t want her to fight him. There’s a reason for this, of course. It’s unsatisfying, but it makes her happy.

The things I do for my kids, I swear.

End turn.  

… Huh. They don’t attack her? Or maybe they can’t damage her. I honestly am not sure.

*sniff*

I remember the last time I played this map.

I died five times on this battle alone.

And now it’s going better than the fight against the fucking Beige Knights.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

Altena: How could you be so craven?! How dare you place your vanity and pride over what truly matters!

(You tell him, honey!)

Arion: What do you want from me, then?

(God, don’t ask her that. This LP is not rated Adults Only.)

Altena: Take a good, hard look at Prince Seliph! Ask yourself, this: why is he still fighting? For whom is he out here day after day, setting his own suffering to the side?

Arion: So Seliph fights for justice, and I somehow do not? Is that what you’re trying to say?

(…. YES!)

Altena: Very well, Arion… if you won’t see reason, so be it. Come on. Kill me. End this. My… my life is in your hands. I die with no regrets.

Arion: A-Altena… very well. You can rest easy now. I get it. I was wrong… my mercenary days are at an end, and my final task is with Seliph. Wait… no. With you. I now fight for you, Altena.

Altena: Arion…

Yeah, it would have been neat if you’d done this a few maps ago, jackass, but Arion is on our side now. Or, well, sorta. He doesn’t join the army, but his unit becomes neutral and are programmed to stay close to Altena and be hostile to any Belhalla units that get near them. I know we all sort of wanted to kill him, but he still has Gungnir and I really just didn’t want to risk a screwup when things are going so well.  I mean, I’m not even gonna use him. At this point, letting him get near the enemy would likely result in him rushing Julius and dying, which sorta defeats the point. Let’s just end this; time to wipe out the remains of Ishtar’s unit.

And now, a special treat. Since Ishtar can’t fight, we get to see a conversation that even I have never actually seen.

(…. ‘Nothing but kind’.)

(Just sayin’.)

Ishtar: … I may be in the wrong. But I can’t turn back now. Forgive me, Tinni… please….

And thus passes Princess Ishtar of Freege. She died as she lived: getting nuked by her cousins. And without her leadership stars…

All right. Now, the rest of the army is going to stay right where they fucking are. Julia cannot be trusted to not kill herself, or more troublesome to not kill me.  The only people going forward are Seliph and Ares, who are going to go north across the forest, out of Julius’s range, and try to lure Julia into following them. Their resistance is tremendous, and they’re both on horses. Ideally she’ll try to kill them, fail, and be following them and unable to catch up until I can free her. This will take a few turns of nothing but movement because I will not be going anywhere near Julius.

Trust me.

She seeeeeeeeeees uuuuuuuuuuussssss…

Okay. There’s two things that could happen here. She’s either going to go east and cut us off, in which case we’ll be dodging vampire lasers the rest of the map, or she’s going to go north through the forest and we basically win the game.  Let’s see!

…. Bitch. Okay, straight west you guys! Hide on the healing church, you beautiful bastards. God, haven’t used one of those in awhile, with those fifty healers in the army lining up to zap everyone with staves.

Dammit, Loptyrians, I am trying to flee in terror from a small woman.

Okay. We can do this. Ares heals up, and all we have to do is clear out those priests and kill Manfroy. Go get ‘em, boys!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Are you fucking kidding me.  

Of all the.

That.

I.

I.

You.

HOW.

What the!

NO.

………………

Well. You know all those times when I was questioning my good fortune? The moments where I was like ‘oh, man, I don’t trust how generous the game is being, bet it’s gonna screw me later!’ Well, that just happened.

*sigh*

End turn. If I survive this, I will be genuinely stunned.

Oh hey it’s as though the Hel tome is really easy to dodge and you should have dodged it all along. But here we go…

(How do you know that’s Manfroy? You’ve never met him…)

Manfroy: So I did. And so long as I live, my puppet she shall remain! Hehehehehe!  She’s every bit as helpless before my magic as her mother was…

Seliph: I should have known. If not for you, Mother… Gah! All of this misery… all these agonizing years… It was all your doing from the outset!

Manfroy: Heh… of course. Everything I’ve done has led to this moment: the revival of my lord Loptyr. And at last, it is so! Loptyr’s advent in the form of Prince Julius is complete, and darkness shall soon engulf the world. You cannot prevent it. Nobody can…

Seliph: Manfroy, you… Father’s grief… Mother’s despair… if not for you and your foul ambitions, none of this would have ever happened… Damn you, Manfroy! I cannot allow you to win! I will not! You’ll NEVER know mercy for your crimes!

Yeah, not the dramatic win I was hoping for after that great speech. But I guess I saw that coming.  Reset! I start off a little differently; Seliph and Ares park themselves on trees. With the 20% dodge bonus, they should have no chance of being hit by Hel, and very little of being hit by Julia. We need to clear out these Dark Mages before we go for Manfroy.

Better! This repeats for all of them; one actually dies because they’re forced to attack at close-range thanks to being blocked off by their own buddies, which is great.

Yeah, yeah.

He only does one damage. Seliph could have survived him with no problem in any other situation. I hate this game sometimes. On our turn, I have Ares and Seliph each clear out a mage…

Then immediately go hide in the woods again. I am playing this as cautious as humanly possible, honestly. Better to spend three turns killing mages than let the reset counter jump up above the number of updates.

The enemy misses again on their turn, because they literally can’t not miss. Two more deaths…

All right! That’s that for dark mages. On the next turn, Ares is going to park his butt on the healing church forever, and Seliph goes to fight Manfroy.

You stay out of this.

Now then. It’s time. It’s time to face Manfroy himself.  In direct combat. The enemy behind it all! The dark schemer who has given over our kingdom to the dark god.  And he…

Is a loser.  I mean, he’s not the worst enemy in the game. He’s okay. But he’s definitely no match for Arvis, or Ishtar, or… anyone with a holy weapon, really.  Which fits, really; his danger is his skill and intellect, not his power.  But considering he’s basically the final boss, it’s a little sad, still.

Seliph. Teach him some manners, bro.

And with two shots, he’s down to six HP.  End turn.

I miss the days when I was the one with the Julia Beams.

*sniff*

God. That is just cathartic to do. Now. With Manfroy off to Hell, where I’m assuming he will meet Hilda and strike up a whirlwind love affair, Seliph can take the castle.

Lewyn: That’s right, isn’t it Felipe?

Felipe: My liege concealed the key within his most treasured memento…. The circlet once worn by Empress Deirdre.

(HURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK!)

Felipe: If we can find that circlet, sir, the Book of Naga is yours.

Lewyn: Deirdre’s circlet…

And that’s that! Ares runs toward the castle, with intent to lure Julia toward us. Of course she’s still hostile, why are you even asking? She has to talk to Seliph to get back to our side. Tee-hee, Fire Emblem hates you.

God, you are just like your mother. Seliph, go fix this please.

Seliph: It was Manfroy’s dark arts. He brainwashed you into his service.

Julia: Manfroy… that’s right, he caught me…

Seliph: Thank goodness you’re safe.  

Julia: Lord Seliph, I…

Seliph: It’s fine, Julia. I know. Lewyn told me everything. I’m sorry… I failed to protect you.

Julia: No… it’s fine. Don’t worry, Seliph. I finally know why I’ve survived for all these years. I know my fate… I’m fated to fight. I’ll never run away again!

Seliph: You’re right… This is the will of fate, tragic as it is. None can afford to cower or flee now. Until the bitter end, we must march on.

And with that, Julia rejoins the team. She’s just as strong as ever, barring one fact; she’s picked up Deirdre’s circlet, adding Renewal and Miracle to her list of abilities, which is a heck of an upgrade.

But not as good as the one she gets from reaching Velthomer.

Lewyn: It worked… it really worked! And there it is, the Book of Naga! It’s yours for the taking, Julia!

Julia: … Oh! How strange… it feels so warm. It’s almost as if I’ve known this book all my life…

And now, the game is over. See, here’s the thing… Julius is just as dangerous as before, if not slightly moreso. His stats are slightly lower than his first appearance where you are very clearly not meant to fight him, but he still has Loptyr’s game-breaking effect, and his ability list is now Wrath, Pursuit, Nihil, and Accost. So he can double most of our army, null critical hits and combat abilities, and gets a huge critical boost when his health drops below half. And of course, he’s on a castle and gets the defense bonus and health regeneration that gives. Basically, he’s borderline invincible. The only real option if you lose Julia is to have Seliph fight him, and poor Seliph can only do about 15 damage per turn (if he hits) some of which will then be healed.  While getting blasted in the face repeatedly, so you’ll need to get someone in to heal him between rounds, and they’ll very probably die to having Meteors dropped on their head unless you’re very lucky. And then there’s the Deadlords, who are just a pain.  

But if you do have Julia…

Yeah.

YEEEEEEEEEAH.  

Naga is the best weapon in the game. +20 each to Skill, Speed, Defense, and Resistance, instantly turns Julia into a hyper-fast, hyper-accurate, hyper-durable killing machine. And as a light magic tome, it has no disadvantage to any kind of weapon. And, of course, it negates Loptyr’s half-damage effect.  Your reward for the most annoying recruitment in the game is the weapon that ends the game. Big time.

So.  

It’s time to lay back and let Big J play us out, I think. I have her do the Arena, just for old times sake. Nothing even touches her.

Julia: Seven wins, gained two levels. +2 HP, +1 Speed.

About as good as can be expected at this point, honestly. And it…. Doesn’t really matter, you know? She heads to Belhalla, and Julius has no chance to hit her with Meteor, so he doesn’t even try.  The Twelve Deadlords rush up to meet her, of course…

They’re going to regret this. The Deadlords are named for the animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and each one has a different class and some very good weapons and abilities. They’re a dangerous group! Usually.  

One down, eleven to go. End turn.  

And then there were nine.

Sorry, seven.

Six of one, half-dozen of the other.

Fun fact, ‘Lepus’ means ‘Rabbit’. And ‘Dead’.

Well I’ll be! Someone landed a hit!  Too bad Julia did too. Four to go.  

I’m so bad at counting! It’s actually three. Congrats to Equus the Bishop on surviving a round with The Julinator.  But with that, none of the remaining Deadlords will actually take a shot at Julia anymore, so I’m just going to ignore them. It’s time for a family reunion.

(He isn’t wrong.)

Yes, that was a single round of combat. Julius procced his Accost skill and made the fight last an extra round. This… was not helpful to him.

Julius vanishes, the spirit of the dragon arising from the castle as the entire map shakes…

But it’s just bluster. Naga’s power has destroyed Loptyr’s vessel, and with its bloodline finally ended the dragon’s grip on this world is gone. Loptyr returns to whatever void it came from, and with the power that animated them gone, the few surviving Deadlords vanish.  

I’m going to cut out here, but no sense waiting a week, huh? So see you tomorrow for the epilogue, kids. I think we earned it.

Final Reset Total: 30.  Y... yay.

Epilogue

[lorenzobane]

House of His Father

(On Ao3 Here)

                                                   August 1238

                                                          10

The small boy is smarter than the other street rats. He knows that for a fact. They weep piteously all night, half of them hunched over and deformed with pain, ready to be dragged off into Leper isolation colonies. The other half, stomachs distended, bodies weak and frail, and desperate.

The small boy is smarter than them.

He reminds himself of that as he sneaks away, the dark cover of night helping the other street boys miss that he has disappeared to the pier. The small boy discovered early, the dock is where the international traders dock, too afraid to step foot on rugged and frightening earth. They’ve heard already, the soil here is damned, only the doomed live here.

His stepfather had been one of the few to explore the small island. He ran into the boy’s mother at the creek a ways down, married her and settled in an unforgiving land.

At least, the small boy has never found forgiveness here.

Before he left his home, with his two parents putrefying inside, he took everything of value. The meger silver they owned gave him bread for two weeks. His step-father’s beautiful, Dutch clothes, two more after that.

And his mother’s silk scarf passed down from his grandmother, continues to provide for him.

He carefully ties a delicate silk rope around his demonic eyes that he cannot hide, before crouching submissively at the edge of the docks.

“Please! Help! I’m blind!”

At the end of the night, when his knees are bruised with kneeling, and his eyes ache from being forced shut for hours, he gathers his money carefully and disappears again.

He buys bread for three days. It’s stolen from him in less than one.

                                                    September 1239

                                                              11

The small boy is kneeling at the dock again. He takes deep breaths, shuddering and almost hysterical, the passersby give him more money than usual, but he doesn’t notice. He feels power lurk under his skin, agitated in a way it has never been before.

By now the small boy had figured out that he can move objects, if he wishes to. That he can burn his enemies, when he wants to.

And sometimes, he really wants to.

Sometimes, he does.

No one steals bread from him anymore.

He breathes deeply, trying to get his power under control when a low, deep voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Hello, little one. Will you take that scarf off for me?”

The boy shakes, but his hands move against his will. His tiny arms quake with the effort, trying desperately to slow the movement of his arms, but he can’t. The man’s smooth words command his muscles.

The man carefully helps the boy unwind the scarf from around his eyes, revealing startling golden-green cat eyes.

Instead of running, the man smiles and looks the boy in the eye. They are identical to the ones the boy sees in the rain puddles.

They are his eyes.

“Why are you hiding such a beautiful birthright, little one?”

The boy opens his mouth to speak, and instead feels tears pour from his now opened eyes. “My mother said I had a rakshasa in me.”

The man kneels down onto the floor, his rich, darkly colored pants stained with dirt. The boy feels an almost desperate urge to lay on the floor instead, to give the man’s knee somewhere to rest.

He reaches out for the boy, face stained with ash and sweat, and gently says, “Do you know what rakshasa are, my beautiful boy?”

The boy shakes his head; eyes still wet with tears.

“My darling, rakshasa, and demons, are merely creatures who determine their own fates.”

The boy stares at him, barely hearing a word beyond the eyes, matching and glowing in the early evening light. He’s never seen anyone with eyes like his before.

The man, unconcerned with his lack of answer, continues, “Would you like a chance to determine yours?”

“My own, what?” The boy asks, confused.

The man laughs, rich and mesmerizing, “Your fate. Now, what’s your name?”

The boy choked, his throat suddenly dry as he realizes with horror, that he has no idea. No one has said his name in over a year, and it simply disappeared from his mind.

The man notices without the boy saying anything.

“You are my son,” the man says without hesitation, before offering his hand for the boy to grab. “And you are the greatest of my creations. I will call you Magnus.” 

The boy nods blindly and reaches for his father.

                                                      May 1253

                                                            15

Magnus stares out the window, his gaze landing on the Lord’s daughter. Her hair is bright gold, and her skin as white as milk- pure and unplowed. Magnus watches, rapt attention, as she carefully holds her basket.

He sighs.

“Still pining over the Lord’s daughter?”

Magnus jumps and immediately turns his gaze back to the book his father had brought him.

“Of course not, father. I was studying,” Magnus says, gently indicating to his book.

His father smirks, “Is that right? I had no idea that Aristotle was so… Enrapturing.”

Magnus refuses to blush. “Well, he did say that ‘hope is a waking dream.’”

Asmodeus looks at Magnus, his eyes amused, “Be that as it may, I have a new task.”

Magnus looks up eagerly. His father’s tasks frequently involve traveling, his father ripping holes, in reality, itself to take Magnus around the world and back.

Magnus wonders if there will ever be a time when his father’s fingertips aren’t the answer to his every desperate need.

“This time will be different, my beautiful boy,” Asmodeus starts, moving close to Magnus and running a soothing hand through his mop of thick black hair. “Just remember-”

“As long as I make you proud, I will always be loved,” Magnus finishes. An edict he knows by heart. Truer than anything he’s ever known.

Asmodeus smiles, small and happy, “I can’t imagine a day when you disappoint me. You, my child, are the only one who has ever deserved to share my crown, and my legacy.”

Magnus can’t help himself, he preens, delighting in his father’s praise. He ducks his head as his father places a tender kiss on his forehead.

“And you never will, Father.”

Asmodeus smiles, “So, you’re up to a new task?”

Magnus nods, frantic to prove to his father that he is worth and capable. “Anything you desire. Is it another unique ingredient?”

Magnus hunted for nearly three months for the exact blooming flower that Asmodeus had requested, anything grander than that would be easy.

“I’ll be joining you on this one,” Asmodeus replies. He twists his fiery red magic into a swirling vortex that Magnus has never been able to replicate.

Magnus shakes his head, “I’m certain that won’t be necessary.”

Asmodeus chuckles, “I know, Magnus. I just want to watch.”

Magnus beams, there are few things in life that he loves more than showing his father how smart and powerful he is. Few things he loves more than reminding his father that he made the right choice.

What Magnus says, is, “Of course, I always welcome your company.”

Magnus glanced around when they reached their destination. It is a quiet village. Magnus glances up at the sky and realizes it is still day-time, indicating that he’s still somewhere in Europe. The sickening perfume of rotting flesh and human feces permeates the air.

The swirling vortex closes behind his father with a snap of his long fingers.

“Is there something special about this village?”

Asmodeus leans against his cane; he looks casual and blank, the way he has looked for most of Magnus’s life. Unchanging, unyielding, a God to Magnus’s irreligious mind.

“I need you to destroy it.”

Magnus looks blankly at his father for a moment, waiting for him to clarify. Asmodeus says nothing and stares impassively back.

“What?”

Asmodeus gestures, “This town. I want it gone. I want every man, woman, and child in this village dead.”

Magnus stares blankly, confused and bewildered. Unbidden, frightened tears start to well in in his eyes, “Father. I can’t!”

“Shh,” Asmodeus starts towards him, wiping the tears streaming from his face. “I know. You’re my good son, so gentle, yet so powerful.” He continues to wipe the tears from Magnus’s face as he holds him close, “I’ll tell you what, my beautiful boy, if you destroy this village, the surrounding five villages will be protected. Never hurt by disease or war, this area will be peaceful if you do this for me.”

He ends his sentence by carefully carding through Magnus’s hair. He leans into it, desperate for comfort.

“Father…”

“I know,” Asmodeus says, his soothing voice easing Magnus’s fraying nerves, “I know. But think of how many lives you’ll save, my darling hero . Five villages, and all of their children, and grandchildren, generations saved, thousands born because you did this one little favor for me.”

Magnus looks out at the village. They are surrounded by pasture, and in the distance, he sees the Lord’s tower.

“And the Lord?”

Asmodeus shrugs, “Kill him too.”

Magnus gently opens his palm, blood red magic oozing through his pores. He takes a deep breath and slams his hand deep into the soft ground by his feet.

He hears the screaming as soon as he starts, and watches distantly as his magic curls around the ankle of a young woman who ran out of her house at the sound of the noise. The magic curls higher and higher until it reaches her inner thigh, and then it pulls her down sharply, she screams as she’s pulled into the raging inferno.

The agony echos around him in technicolor, he can taste their pain, rich and burnt on his tongue.

And, as soon as it starts, it stops.

The screaming ends, the village is quiet.

Then Magnus crumples to his knees, his hands empty of magic while he shakes. He feels his father stand next to him, placing a hand on Magnus’s hair as he kneels by his side. He can’t help himself; he turns to bury his face in his father’s muscular thigh, letting tears fall as his father gently pets the side of his head.

                                            November 1259

                                                     21

“Good job,” Asmodeus says. The village around him is in flames.

His father asked him to destroy this village in exchange for saving another, the one with the pretty blond girl Magnus has been pining over for years. The stench of blood and the mangled carcasses of people lay around them, ripped open and leaking internal organs over the dark ground.

Magnus vomits at the sight.

“Now, now,” Asmodeus replies, to Magnus’s violent and loud retching. “Be a good sport. You’re improving so quickly, Magnus. Soon we’ll be out of training ground.”

Magnus looks at him with wide eyes, “This is training?”

Asmodeus chuckles goodnaturedly, “Of course it is. Soon, I’ll be preparing you to serve as my second in command. Not just an average Lieutenant, but my brave and brilliant General.”

Asmodeus looks off at the sunset, the land spreading around him like maiden’s legs.

“We will have it all, my beautiful boy. We will lay claim to everything.”

Magnus nods and swallows against the thick lump in his throat. He realizes exactly one thing in this moment.

He needs to banish his father.

[magnolopsida]

Starkquill prompt

New prompt / Mantis touching Tony and everybody see how he feels / like always english is not my first langage so be cool and send me a PM if you see some mistakes I need to correct ! :)

_______ When the guardians where finally on earth for Peter - he wanted to see the planet he left years ago - they got the surprise to see a team called the Avengers. Those guys jumped on them right know and after some talk, they learned that this heroes already got a visit from some “aliens” and were scared to see them coming here with bad thoughts in mind.

Finally, a man named Fury allowed them to stay for a while here, in Tony’s giant tower.

When they met Tony for the first time without his armor, Peter asked Mantis to never touch him. He looked so sad, so tired of his life, and the leader of the guardians knew this Stark guy was going to be really mad if someone saw his broken soul.

Now, they were in the Stark tower for two months and things were going pretty well. Tony was actually very sweet with them, and Peter used to think he was a little more happy too. The hero loved working on some tech stuff with Rocket - nobody could understand them when they were talking about this. He was kinda scared of Gamora at first - it seems like she makes him think to someone else - but it was really better now, and he hanged out with her sometimes. They especially liked to make fun of Peter.

With Drax, it was kinda funny to see Tony using metaphors and the guy being totally lost about this.

Tony is also the only one with Rocket who is able to understand Groot - and looking at this three laughing makes Peter’s heart melt of joy. In this two months, he developed sort of a big crush on the genius. He always loved to flirt but with Tony it was really different - he knew the guy was sad, broken and he didn’t want to hurt him anymore with his stupid feelings. So he didn’t say anything and continue to enjoy Tony’s presence - even if sometimes he can’t help himself but flirt a little.

Stark talked about the team Cap to them - and if the guardians didn’t say a word, they were really mad to learn how those guys acted with their new friend. He was really sweet with them and didn’t deserve all this hate.

This day, Tony was in the kitchen with Groot, playing with some strange toys and little robots. The playboy was laughing softly, a shy smile on his face when he noticed Peter.

“Hey, ” Iron man said.

“Hey Starlight,” the leader of the guardians answered with a big smile, really happy to see his friend turning red.

“Stop this” Tony laughed.

Obviously he didn’t trust him about the flirt. He was to used to this, to all the lies. But it wasn’t enough to stop Peter - he was decided to show him his support, and his love.

“I am serious, you look cute when you play with Groot”.

Tony wanted to say something but Friday said suddenly :

“Sir, we got a call from director Fury”.

Stark’s face frowned at this and answered :

“And what ?”

“We have to talk about the Accords now, Stark” the voice of the director said without a hello.

He sounded already annoyed by all of this.

“I thought all of this was done” Peter mumbled.

“What do you want?” Tony added.

“Captain Rogers finally decided to talk about the Accords and make a deal with us”, Fury explained.

A sarcastic laugh left Tony’s lips and he shook his head.

“We’re going to meet each other, then…”

Peter hated how tired he looked at this words, and when the director ended the call, he can’t help but take Tony’s hands in his and say :

“We’re going to stay here with you. We will protect you.”

The genius smiled a little - he was scared, terrified, but the guardians were here. It was going to be ok, right ?

xoxoxoxo

“Stark,” the voice of Steve was rough, and sounded a bit mad, and Peter feels his anger growing when he saw how scared Tony was. But the guy fixed Cap with some pride on his face, a sarcastic smile on his lips, like everything’s ok - but it wasn’t, Star Lord knew it.

“Yo, Capt'ain. You look bad, actually. If you can’t afford a razor, maybe I can help you,” Tony said with the worst smile on his face.

Steve looked kinda mad at this - he hadn’t touched his beard since weeks, it was true, but he had some other things in head.

“Im not going to say anything…” Rogers groaned. “So, about the Accords…”

“I don’t think Tony is going to accept any concessions”.

Steve turned his face to Peter and said :

“I don’t know who you are, but I don’t think its your problem. Its between Tony and me.”

“Since Tony is our friend, its actually our problem too.”

“And who the fuck are you?!”

“The guardians of the galaxy. I think the name say it all, you know.”

Steve laughed in front of all of them, and even Fury didn’t know how to act about this. He turned his face to the rest of his team - Natasha was too busy watching Gamora with a dead glare, but the others looked really amused.

“If you say so” he finally said.

“What is so funny about this ?!” Rocket claimed, a paw on one of his guns.

“We don’t need you and these things you call “friends” here. The Avengers are already here.“

Peter wanted to kill him.

"Are you deaf ?! I said "of the galaxy”. You know, there’s other people in the universe than you and your little team, and we protect all of them.“

"It doesn’t matter. I have to talk with Tony face to face.”

To be honest, Peter didn’t know how to act when Tony said yes and left the room with the guy. It seems like it was just a bad idea.

xoxoxoxo The team Cap was in the tower for two months now, because they found a deal for the Accords, and cohabitation was kinda difficult between them. The Guardians and the Avengers worked together, but the only thing who keep them without falling appart was probably Tony. He tried is best for everyone to be happy - even if he looked himself so sad everyday.

They just finished a mission right know and they were going home. Tony left his suit in the tower and reached for the couch, curled on it with a sweet blanket. Peter smiled at this, especially when Groot and Rocket joined him without a word.

The raccoon hated how people acted with him sometimes, like he was only a stupid animal but it was different with Tony - he loved cuddling with the superhero in front of the TV, forgetting who he was and happy to feel all the love coming from the genius. Peter wanted to act the same with Tony, but, well…

“Stark, I think you forget we have a meeting about the mission.” Steve said when he enters in the room.

“Im too tired. We can do it tomorrow…”

“You’re annoying. Do your fucking job, Stark !” Natasha added.

Tony didn’t say anything but Peter noticed how he grabbed Rocket harder, but the raccoon just put a paw on his arm, softly.

“We’re all tired here, the job was exhausting !” Gamora sighed, rolling her eyes at Romanoff.

Clint was watching them. He was tired of Tony attitude, how he finished in jail because of him. It was time to change all of this. Without a sound, he reached Mantis in a corner of the room and said :

“Hey, don’t you think its sad to see them hating each other?”

The girl shook his head, totally aggree with the guy. She was someone really sweet and hated how people can act like this.

“I want to help Tony but I don’t know how,” she murmured with a sad smile, her big dark eyes fixed on Stark.

“I think I know how. Touch him,” Barton proposed, hidding his smile. “But Peter say-” Mantis started.

“I know Tony since years now, trust me. If we know how he feels, it will be better to help him.”

It was a lie, obviously - Clint only wanted to show to everyone how selfish Tony was. But Mantis was too innocent, so she approached the couch, and before Peter can stop her, she touched Tony.

Directly, it was pain. Mantis feels like she was alone, even surrounded by friends. Like nobody was going to love her. Like she was nothing but a disapointment. It was a hole in her chest and her heart was so heavy, she thought she was going to throw but she just started to cry loudly, all her body shaking of pain and sadness.

“Wh-why…?!” she cried, her knees on the carpet. “Im sorry…I only wanted love… I am so sorry…!”

It was a dead silence in the room and everybody looked right at Tony. He didn’t say anything, grabbed his soft blanket and put it on Mantis’ shoulders. She didn’t want to feel the pain anymore but she still grabbed his shirt, and added again :

“I am sorry… I just want-”

“I know,” Tony stopped her, gently touching her hair, like she was some sort of a pet who need comfort. “You are loved, honey. The guardians love you.”

She smiled a little and grabbed the blanket tightly. Tony knew how Mantis powers worked…and he knew the pain she was feeling from him. He was used to it, but Mantis…it was new for her, she wasn’t strong enough to support all of this.

“Tony, we-” Steve started.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Rogers.” Stark persiffled.

He turned to Clint and added, his face looking really angry :

“Why have you asked her to touch me?”

“Oh, calm down ! Go find love, idiot. If its the only thing you want.”

The smile of Clint at this words was horrible - like he was about to laugh. Tony’s face went red and he didn’t say anything but Peter, in fact, did :

“Go away. Right now.”

His voice was calm, but inside of him it was a true storm, determined to destroy all of them and protect Tony who was about to cry.

Steve wanted to say something but the look on Peter’s face stopped him. All the guardians waited for them to go away, and finally the captain grabbed Clint’s arm, looking really mad, and some seconds later they were all gone.

Directly, Tony fell on his knees and started to cry softly too, right in front of Mantis and all of them. The guardians ran to him and Peter murmured :

“It is ok, we love you. We’re not going to left you behind.”

“I- I just…”

“Shhh, I know. Since we are on Earth, we noticed how sad you are here, Tony. We will go back to space soon, and you’ll come with us.” Peter proposed - but it wasn’t really a choice, because he can’t think about his life without the genius now.

“I can’t- this world need me…” Tony murmured.

“They have their "Avengers”. That’s enough, come with us. You already made too much for this planet and nobody cares. Thats not fair for you, you have to think to your happiness now.

Gently, Peter put his lips on his forehead, keeping him safe between his arms. They were going to show him what family truly was - what love was.

______ Sorry for the long post, I am going to put the “read more” later :) feel free to send me a prompt on ANY unpopular ship of the MCU :)