The Dresden Files

indie Harry Dresden semi-selective oc & crossover friendly

[blackstonedresden]

saintblade​:

               𝙹𝙰𝙲𝙺’𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚂𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚆𝙸𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚄𝚁𝙸𝚃𝚈 𝙾𝙵𝙵𝙸𝙲𝙴  was that of a specialist security adviser, which meant he was responsible for the security of australian dignitaries while they were abroad.  when he wasn’t providing protection overseas, he was at canberra HQ, drawing up security plans or forming specialized task groups, as the ISO also operated as an intelligence hub for various government departments.  however, for all that he supposedly did under the stamp of lawful authority, jack wasn’t law enforcement, and the ISO was nothing more than a cover many office assets maintained for their intelligence-gathering actions.

the office of counterterrorism and intelligence, colloquially known as ❛the office❜, didn’t exist in public records, and the australasian meta-state it operated under was an invisible entity.

jack was an asset of the office, paid to safeguard citizens from dangerous forces.  forces such as the late samuel valadian, an obscenely wealthy wanna-be domestic terrorist with a god-complex, or ethan blade, the seventh-ranked assassin in the world.  horror-inspiring legend; cold-blooded and calculating and willing to kill anyone, anywhere, for the right price—according to hearsay and third-hand accounts.  although general opinion on ethan had shifted drastically over the passing months, the man’s lethal reputation hadn’t changed, nor his triple-digit kill count.

                it was jack’s job to assess the unknown, and if ever deemed necessary, neutralize the potential threats discovered.

❝no worries, mr. dresden.  i’m aware of how precious your free time is to you.  if all goes to plan, i’ll be out of your hair before you know it.  we could get started now, though perhaps someplace more private?❞  aiming for an invitation inside, jack let his glance drift past the wary man into the apartment, where dark shapes seemed to creep in the shadows.  another stir of movement narrowed his eyes.

               what in the bloody hell was that?  a disproportionately overweight pet?  a pet bear?   oh, jesus fucking christ.   was it legal to own a bear in the states?

❝you got any pets?❞ jack inquired, taking another surreptitious sweep of the shadows beyond before sending word back to lewis and the team.  streaming a live feed would require too intense concentration but attempting to juggle multiple conversations was risky — OW, SHIT!   shooting pain startled jack into stifling a feigned sneeze, his left temple suddenly throbbing.  what the fuck?   shit, shit, shit.   now was so not the time for a technical malfunction.

playing it off like a true professional, jack sniffled, glassy eyes bright and his smile understandably a tad sheepish.     ❝your call, mr. dresden.❞

      I hesitated a moment, weighing my options. I could slam the door in his face, giving the usual ‘come back with a warrant’ spiel, but that might just get a squad of international goons swarming my apartment and I had things I didn’t want authorities finding, a small container of depleted uranium dust being among them. I still wasn’t sure of his identity either. There were plenty of groups out there looking to take me down, the Red Court obviously topping the list right now. After another moment of thought, I stood aside and opened the door wider, wandering back into my apartment. This was mainly a tactic to see if he was something in disguise. Creatures of the magical world had certain rules to follow, being among them they had to be invited into places. Or well, at least certain ones did.

      You see, places you live in form a sort of bubble around you. It surrounds us, penetrates us. Okay not really, but it does help protect you to a degree. They tend to vary in strength, the more loving a family home the better. Mine wasn’t as strong as some peoples, due to my bachelor lifestyle, but it’s still a good deterrent. Not only does it keep things out, but it also forces them to leave a chunk of their power behind too if they manage to cross.

      Even if he did pass through unscathed, that still didn’t mean I was in the clear. Humans have no problem crossing thresholds, and they’re plenty dangerous in their own right. A gun is just as effective as a magical fireball when it comes to killing.

      Regardless, I was comfortable for the most part with bringing him inside. I had a dozen wards in my apartment, plus Mouse. He hadn’t begun to growl, which was a good sign, but he still watched the newcomer with wariness. Mouse had a good sense of people, at least the really good ones and the really bad ones. But I think people were just as much an enigma to him as they are to anyone. Sometimes it’s hard to gauge a person. My staff was in the umbrella stand near the door, but my blasting rod was leaning up against the couch as I had been updating some of the runes the night before. On the back of the couch lay my leather duster, and subsequently the .357 I kept inside the pocket. I don’t know how quickly I’d be able to get to either if things went down, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

      “Well then, ask away. I’d like it if we could keep this brief, I have a few appointments to keep today.”

      This wasn’t true, but I didn’t like strangers in my home, especially government types. Any authority figure really.

      “Oh and yes, this is Mouse. He looks like a big dangerous bear, but don’t let that size fool you. He’s a dog. The ball of fur that just shot past your legs was my cat.”

      Mister had decided the intrusions of peasants into his sanctum was tiresome and thus had chosen to leave and observe the rest of his outer domain. At least I assumed that was his reasoning.

      I shuffled over to the fridge and grabbed two cokes, offering one out to Reardon.

[blackstonedresden]

               𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙱𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙶 , mcintosh had implied ❛delta subject❜ required minor finishing touches before it could move from tier two passive surveillance—a phone tap fed into a program scanning for keywords and phrases, searching for the subject near high-risk targets, and no active following or interaction—to tier three surveillance, which entailed a field asset like jack.  yet the dossier given to lewis was practically in the infantile stages of development, lacking even rudimentary data such as delta subject’s exact age or current profession.

lewis had written off mcintosh’s blatant lie as a way for her to save face in front of the other directors, and jack had conceded only because interdepartmental politics were murky and confusing enough without international pressures coming down on them.  however, her decision to forgo standard OP preparations in favor of condensing what would have been days of objective discussions into one caffeine-fueled evening had been far more difficult to explain, let alone excuse.  jack understood an increasing body count warranted a rapid response, but moving so dangerously fast defeated the whole purpose of his job.  what was a covert investigation good for if operatives were ill-equipped to survive the field?

absolutely nothing was jack’s honest opinion, so what the fuck was he doing here alone?  ex-military or not, why the fuck didn’t he have backup?  this was a two-man job given the alleged context, but more than that, lewis had seen the australian CCTV footage, therefore had to have known their subject was tall—NBL-worthy tall—markedly taller than jack’s already above-average height of six-two, and robust as well, with the contour of a man naturally active rather than the physique of someone who frequented a gym.

❝jack reardon, specialist security adviser of the australian ISO.❞   flashing his badge, jack produced his best rendition of a friendly business smile, though his efforts seemed to bounce off the man.   fuck.   jack should have vetoed lewis’s solo approach right from the start—or at least countered it with the suggestion that he kiss jack’s ass.

          unease rumbled in his throat as he tried to clear it.  ❝i think you know why i’m here, mr. dresden.  if it’s no trouble, i’d like to ask you a few questions.  is now a good time?❞

      You gotta learn some stealth, Dresden. It’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass.

      Ramirez’s words rang in my mind as I caught the shine of a badge in Reardon’s hand. The warden and I were often teamed up together on missions for the White Council. My usual methods were a bit too loud for the clandestine nature of Council missions. Ramirez liked subtlety and I liked to go boom in other words. Looks like his warning had come to pass though. We’d been romping around the land down under for a couple weeks, stomping out every Red Court vampire, and subsequent ghouls, that we could find. Despite all the fire and occasional gun fights, I thought we’d managed to stay under the radar of the local authorities. But since there was now an agent of the ISO standing at my door, it appeared I was wrong. Not that I knew what the ISO was anyway. I don’t remember ever hearing about it, not that I’m well-versed in the governmental organizations of Australia.

      Well, a few of those missions had started to take place near more urban centers, so maybe being spotted shouldn’t have been a surprise.

      Did he say he was a security advisor? So not a government agent then. ISO must be a private security firm or something. That answered a few questions but raised even more. He had to be here about the attacks, the coincidence was anything but. The question was how much did he actually know? The world of magic has been around longer than most of the countries of the world. Despite that, it’s still managed to stay under the radar of most governments, at least as far as I could tell. People had a way of denying the abnormal to an almost shocking degree. Hell, I knew people who’d faced down trolls and demons and still denied their existence.

      “I think that depends, Agent Reardon.” I wasn’t sure if ‘agent’ was the appropriate title here, but better safe than sorry. “Does the, uh, ISO have jurisdiction here? I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you, unless it’s a local matter. What sort of questions did you have?”

[saintblade]

               WHEN JACK REARDON ROLLED OUT OF BED AT SEVEN AM ON A MONDAY MORNING ,  he’d expected the usual routine.  a brisk shower, one piping hot cup of coffee served alongside a hearty breakfast—that jack wouldn’t have the time to clean up before needing to leg it to work—and his current unit leader’s voice in his head, droning on and on as he rode his motorcycle to work.    it all went to plan.    shower, coffee, two plates of grilled tomato and mushroom over eggs and bacon.  having kept the kitchen clutter to a minimum, ethan had been in fine spirits, thus breakfast had been pleasant all around, if wonderfully domestic for a change.  moreover this time, when jack scooped up his helmet and slapped a quick goodbye kiss on his partner’s cheek, he hadn’t been running late.

it should’ve been his first warning, really.  that and, while on his way to the office, lewis thomas, jack’s best friend and workmate and occasional unit leader, never pinged.  instead jack received a recorded message informing all ITA assets of a department-wide briefing to take place at nine.    jack wasn’t aware that was even a thing.    more baffling were the bits and pieces he caught before it ended.  garbled murmuring in the background, typical work jargon mixed with rather thought-provoking terminology, enough so that jack couldn’t help but run it through his neural implant while weaving through sydney’s morning traffic.

            UNIDENTIFIABLE.  EXSANGUINATION.                               OVERSEAS.  MILITARY.  PATTERN.

all in all, some pretty fuckin’ bizarre if weirdly specific shit.  and it was only after parking his bike that jack began to question if any of it was pertinent to the briefing.​​

​it turned out jack’s hunch was on the money.   however, that was more or less the point in which logical prospects flew out the window.     with nine years in the military and five years with the office tucked under his belt, jack had seen a lot of shit in his thirty-six years on earth.  but never had jack witnessed such a respected superior go off the deep end quite like ITA director donna mcintosh had when she concluded the department-wide briefing with the explicit impression that a string of identical, pattern-bearing homicides had nothing to do with an unorthodox serial killer, and everything to do with supernatural creatures laying waste to human life.     namely, vampires.      … // @blackstonedresden​

jack wasn’t sure which fact dismayed him more; the alien vampires he’d imagined actually seemed much closer to the sort from twilight, or that mcintosh had all but singled him out for the case.     at least lewis’s stifled laughter clammed up when mcintosh appointed him unit leader.

               THAT WAS HOW JACK REARDON ,  former SAS soldier and current australian meta-state asset, ended up in chicago, illinois—alone as himself for whatever god-forsaken reason—jet-lagged to hell and knocking on a stranger’s door at nine in the morning.  jack wasn’t too bothered about his lack of back up though, even if beyond this door was a man his government seriously suspected to be a vampire or extraterrestrial blood-sucker, albeit the latter more jack’s unsubstantiated wager than the office’s.

then, the door swung open and jack wore his best smile before sliding into a generic american accent.   ❝g’mornin’, sir.  are you harry dresden?❞

[blackstonedresden]

       My day started in what had unfortunately become an unusual fashion as of late. I woke up in my bed, having slept a full 8 hours. Ever since the War with the Red Court had been started by some idiotic young wizard with a grudge killing Bianca St. Claire, a representative of the bloodsuckers, I had been traveling across the country and the world having to take the fight to the vamps. Damn him. Okay it was me, but to be fair she did kidnap my girlfriend and turn her into a half-vampire intending for her to kill me and complete her transformation. Yeah my life is…complicated. I got up and made a simple breakfast, some hashbrowns and eggs with a can of coke for me and Mister, the wildebeest I called my cat. He lapped it up with nary a thanks or even an acknowledgement.

      There was a grunt and an exhale of breath, and the small carpet in the middle of the room stood up and shambled over to me. Mouse was a temple dog and had grown larger than I expected and I think was still growing. He carefully avoided getting near Mister and leaned against me, nearly knocking me over in the process. I gave him a scratch on the head, but he suddenly straightened up, looking towards the door.

      “What’s up, Mouse? We got company?”

      No sooner had I said it when a knock sounded at the door. Dogs. Keener senses than any person. I hesitated, wondering whether I really wanted to be bothered on a very rare day off. I glanced at the door to my lab, thinking about all the things I had planned to get done today. A project I’d been working on in my spare time needed my attention. Mouse looked up at me and chuffed.

      “Yeah, you’re right.” I sighed and shuffled to the door. The steel frame was heavy and damaged after a small army of zombies tried to bust it down, so it took a few good tugs to open. When I finally did, I was met with a clean cut man, medium height and build. Slight accent, what was that? Australian?

      “Can I help you?”

[blackstonedresden]

Hello friends! Sorry again about just up and disappearing but life is still pretty crazy for me right now. I think it is better for me to just put up an official hiatus for now rather than just having an inactive blog just sitting there. I’m sorry to those who I have threads with and hope to be back in the writing scene soon!

[memoirsverse]

Harry and Evelyn: Adrift

[blackstonedresden]

memoirsverse‌:

The old brick boarding house was a far cry from the huge, airy Californian villa that Evelyn had escaped from. It was an even further cry from Thornebridge, but then most places were. There was nowhere quite like Thornebridge, not that she’d found.

She tried not to think too often about how much she missed it, and Arabella.

She had stood in front of her second-story door, key in hand, for what had seemed like a small eternity. The elderly landlady, Mrs. Spunkelcrief, was half deaf and sweet as could be, with a subtle marrow of steel lurking beneath her genteel surface. Evelyn hadn’t met the other tenant yet, but according to Mrs. Spunkelcrief, he was “a nice young man. Maybe a little odd. But he shovels the snow off the porch and stairs every winter, and mostly keeps to himself, so you shouldn’t have any trouble from him, I think.”

Evelyn was glad. She’d had enough trouble to last three lifetimes.

She sat on her freshly inflated air mattress, sorting through the carefully organized folders that contained all the information she had been able to gather against her former husband, who had gone by the name of Alexander Stone. Not his real name, of course, but that stood to reason, as Alex was not in any way human.

Useless. All of this “evidence” was useless to her. Who would listen? Some tabloid rag? Art Bell? She could imagine her story being spread far and wide over the radio airwaves, sharing space with the reptilian alien conspiracy, the Mothman, and the woman who married Bigfoot. 

Well, she had taken the name Bell. Maybe it had been a portent. Emily Bell, the woman who had married a monster. No, that wasn’t a euphemism.

Sighing, she tossed the folders (useless) onto the bed and rose, making her way to the tiny alcove of a kitchen. She had to dig the tea kettle out of one of the few boxes she had packed in the back of her recently-purchased (with cash, no questions asked) car when she had fled into the night three days ago. The gas stove clicked for a minute before the burner ignited with a startling whoosh, and she stood in silence until the water boiled.

The warmth of late August still touched the night air when she went outside and settled on the third step from the ground, cup of chai in hand. It was three in the morning, and quieter than it ever was during the day, though not entirely silent.

She had returned to Chicago for a reason. This was where it had all begun. She was not yet ready to show up at Thornebridge; she wasn’t sure Arabella– or Thornebridge– would accept her back after all that had happened. No, she was on her own. 

Probably serves me right, she thought. I always trust the wrong people. Maybe I’ve finally learned my lesson.

Maybe the lesson was to trust no one.

She took a sip of her tea. It slid heat over her tongue, but inside she felt cold.

      It was around three in the morning by the time Harry managed to make his way back to his apartment. He was exhausted. Spending the day running around dealing with other people's problems can do that to you. Harry's apartment wasn't much, but the steps leading down to it were like the gates of heaven and he couldn't wait to reach them. As he got out, he noted the dirty car sitting outside the boarding house and remembered that Mrs. Spunkelcrief mentioned something about a new tenant. The landlady hadn't said much about them besides the fact that they "looked like a nice young lady."

      Harry would probably receive a complaint or two if his day to day activities were any indication. Maybe he should try to meet her tomorrow and preemptively apologize for any weird noises...or smells. The warm air blew in, tinged with the salty spray of Lake Michigan. The last fleeting days of summer still clung to the city.

      Making his way to the steps, he noticed someone else sitting there. It was hard to tell in the dark of early morning, but it appeared to be a young woman, maybe early thirties or late twenties. Probably the new tenant. Well, no time like the present, he thought to himself.

      "Hey. You must be the new tenant. I'm Harry Dresden, the downstairs neighbor. I won't bother you too much. I don't do much baking so I won't be popping over for any cups of sugar. The only issues might be the occasional noise and odd hours coming and going."

      Now that he was closer, he could see she was holding a cup of what smelled like tea. Her hair was a red whose shade was impossible to tell in the dark.

[blackstonedresden]

Hey, there Tumblr friends. Sorry I have been so absent as of late. I’ve had a lot of trouble with writing for months now and have only been able to sporadically do so. As of lately, I’ve been in sort of a funk where I don’t have the will to do anything. But rest assured I am still interested in tumbling with the rest of you, it is just kind of slow going right now. I will try to do stuff this week as I’m nearing the end of the semester and shouldn’t have to worry about school as much.

[tittytron]

tumblr friendships are hard to maintain like im sorry i know i havent talked to you in 5 months but you’re still super rad and i still consider us friends im just dumb

[ironbound-oberon]

#if you’re wondering if this is for you #it’s probably for you

[lifeisaroughjourney]

If I have ever messaged you or messaged me and never heard from me again, I still consider us friends. I just suck

[blackstonedresden]

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

“You have a black eye. Were you fighting with someone?“ 

“What, this? Just a misunderstandin’ ‘tween a nice guy an’ an asshole who thinks he can try an’ take my hat off the nice guy’s head.”

“Is the asshole still amongst the living? And since when do you let other people wear your hat?”

“Yeah, he’s still breathin’. His bike’s pretty fucked up, though. The nice guy was me, hoss.”

“Oh really? I don’t really picture you as the nice guy type. Thought it was an asshole-a-asshole situation.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Bill replied defensively. “I’m nice enough to call a man an’ his buddies a ride home after a rip roarin’ good tussle. Lucky I was drinkin’ in a bar close to the outskirts o’ town.”

      “Hmph. Can’t argue with that. A hell of a lot nicer than I am. I wouldn’t have called the ride. Probably just tossed change at them. Not even enough change at that. Also, if there’s a warrant out for your arrest now, I’m not harboring you. I’ve done that enough for one lifetime.”

[spellofthesouth]

“Perksuva small town, hoss. Deputy who went to break it up’s a guy whose calf I had to pull a week or two ago. Got off with a ‘don’ do that again’.”

[blackstonedresden]

"Lucky bastard. I get a ticket just for standing around. Maybe I need to start birthing cows for the police here. Don't think Murph would be happy about that. Think that'd work with the Senior Council?"

[blackstonedresden]

thunderpawarena‌:

Alarm bells went off in her subconscious as her ice cracked and eventually fell away. But there was nothing she could do presently, she was to weak and exhausted to even make any effort to wake up and defend herself. That was a dangerous problem, however she didnt feel any malicious intent from whomever had broken her ice so she didnt feel any urgent need to wake up and defend. 

hours passed, her breathing becoming more steady and relaxed. she wasnt quite ready to wake up, her injuries more extensive than even she had realized. it took three days for her to finally awaken. Sage was groggy and disoriented when she finally got around to opening her eyes. Where was she? it looked like a house….a shabby little house but a warm, and well loved little thing. Then again the town shed seen was abandoned and broken so its no surprise the small stone and wooden cottage was similar. She listened close. the sound of breathing and a heartbeat that was not her own. she slid her eyes over to see a mans back haunched over a fire.

it looked like he might be cooking, or possibly just messing with the fire. she turned her head and spoke softly but surely. “you there, is this your home? What are your intentions with me?” she tested her limbs, they moved stiffly but unimpeaded. then she removed the blanket. her wounds were patched up, but she was still naked. oh well that wasnt much of an issue for her. White locks stained a muddy brown by her own blood. she frowned and sat up. Her body ached and she winced in pain. God she smelled horribly, was thirsty and hungry. “if im not a prisoner or even if i am, may i have water and perhaps if your feeling generous, something to eat? bread or fruit?” her voice was cool like the element she controlled, polite, soothing to the ears and with a hint of the joy and life of a young jovial woman.

“i apologise for my appearance and for trespassing on your land.”

      It was three days before she woke up. Harry had spent that time switching out her bandages, doing more repairs on the cottage, and trying to figure out where she had come from. She was obviously not human, he knew that at least. Not that that told him much. Most of the things he had to deal with on a daily basis weren't human. He had thought about calling Butters to give her a check-up, but he didn't want to put him at risk. Not to mention he might draw more attention to the island. Oh, and Butters hated coming to the island. He had managed to bring him out here once, but he wouldn't even step off the boat.

      "Harry, I feel like Frodo when Sauron was looking at him while wearing the One Ring."

      Butters probably wasn't far off. There was only so much Harry could do to control Demonreach. Well, 'control' was the wrong word. More like persuade.

      He was in the middle of making dinner when he heard her stir behind her. When she spoke he turned around. Going from three days of silence to full on sentences was disorienting. At least she seemed to be thinking clearly.

      "I don't really think of it as a home. More like a summer house. Winter house? Either way, it isn't really mine anyway. As for my intentions, I was hoping to figure out why you're here." Now that she was up, she looked hungry.

      "No, you're not a prisoner. More like a patient. Not that I'm much of a doctor. I'm in the middle of cooking right now. Hope you like eggs and bacon. I have some apples and white bread too if that'll suit you." Murphy and Thomas had insisted he buy whole wheat or whole grain or whatever, but what they didn't know wouldn't hurt them. "I imagine you'll probably wanna get dressed. I've got some old clothes in the dresser over there."

      He and Thomas had moved some basic furniture to the island. He didn't have much beyond a bed, dresser, desk, table, and some other cupboards. He didn't have any electricity either. So all of his cooking was old fashioned, like in his old apartment. He shied away from memories of it. It still hurt to remember the day he lost it all. She apologized to him. That was a little surprising. Members of the magical world tended to be pretty big on old-world etiquette, but getting one to apologize was like pulling teeth on a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Besides it wasn't really him she should be apologizing to. Demonreach had not been happy about him keeping her there. He wanted to either throw her into the lake or lock her up in one of those crystal prison things in the basement. Harry had ignored these suggestions, much to Demonreach's annoyance. It let him know too. No doubt she was feeling the effect too.

      Harry went over to finish cooking while he let her get dressed.

      "Don't worry about it. And I don't have much in the way of showers if you're looking to clean up.. I've got one on the boat by the docks but it is gonna be cold either way."

[blackstonedresden]

Gahhhhh. I have to sit myself down and reply to stuff tomorrow. If I owe you something, except a reply tomorrow

[blackstonedresden]

thunderpawarena‌:

Harry and Sage ice to meet you!

Hunters. Why hunters. Always hunters. Sages breath came out heavy and hard, short. She was tired, her muscles ached so bad she felt like she was going to pass out. But she couldnt. She couldnt give up right now, if she did they would cath her, kill her, and hed win. She wouldnt let that happen. She could hear the baying of the hellhounds and their horrid voices calling after her. “GIVE UP WENCH! MAKE IT EASY ON YOURSELF!”

Like hell. She kept running. The lake was within eyesight and she made a last desperate break for it. Her feet slamed down, ice forming under her bare flesh. The woman herself was naked. Her clothes having been ripped apart by the hellhounds.

Her pale body bled and she knew shed die if she didnt find safety. The ice rose into the air and she used it to propel herself. She was riding it like waves across the surface of the moonlit lake snow white hair whipping around her like wind. There was no way the hounds could find her out there. Or at least not with ease. Her ice broke apart and dissapeared as soon as she skated over it.

She allowed herself a good half an hour of ice surfing and searching until she came across an island with what looked like a lighthouse and ild abandoned town. Here would be perfect. She dashed onto the island and towards the woods. There had to be somewhere she could rest, lick her wounds and sleep in peace. Her body screamed with pain, dark bruises and angry open cuts and bites. She finally found a hole within the roots of an old gnarled tree. It was large enough for her and she encased it in frost and ice. She ripped off her fur belt and tossed it down to use as padding. Her body turned to jello and she collapsed into her small frosty cave, curling around herself and passing out hard. She didnt even have time to feel the unnearving unwelcomed presence of alfered.

      Harry panted heavily as he ran amongst the giant crystals jutting from the ground beneath Demonreach. Alfred was less than pleased at him running to and fro amidst the horrific nightmares and ancient nameless gods locked away beneath his feet while screaming, "PARKOUR" But it was good exercise and Harry needed something to preoccupy himself. And familiarize himself with the prison. Harry didn't want to come down here too often if he could help it, but not learning more about it would be idiotic. So he spent time running amongst the various chambers and passageways, trying to memorize the different routes. Alfred, the name he had given to the spiritual personification of Demonreach, was always everywhere he went, watching. Harry could feel the spirit's annoyance at his actions, but buried deep beneath the surface there was the barest hint of curiosity. It was while he was jumping a rather large crystal that he suddenly felt a presence step foot on the island. Who or what was it? He was so distracted by it that he misplaced a hand and ended up face planting on the dirt. Demonreach appeared next to him while he spat what he hoped was not evil infected dirt out of his mouth.

      "There is an intruder." It said, the deep earthquake rumble of its voice echoing in the chamber.

      "Yeah, Al, I figured that out. Who is it?"

      "I do not recognize the intruder. They should be eliminated. They are unconscious and wounded, thou shouldst strike now."

      "Let's at least see who it is first" It was weird that someone was on the island, especially the fact that they apparently weren't trying to kill him. Still, he'd have to be careful. No way of knowing what they wanted until he actually talked to them. He grabbed the towel and water he had brought down with him and did his best to wipe away the sweat before putting on his heavy leather duster and grabbing his blasting rod and the gun he kept on him at all times. He made his way up to the surface, careful to not reveal the spot from which he rose. He opened his sense to Demonreach's Intellectus, using it to locate whoever it was. Demonreach was right. The did appear to be unconscious, their breathing was slow and even. And Harry could taste the blood that dribbled onto the earth beneath them. He made his way carefully to where they were hiding, It was a tree hollow somewhere near the shoreline. A thick layer of ice and frost covered the entrance, forming a barrier.

      Whoever it is, they don't want to be bothered. Well, maybe they shouldn't have come to my island then.

      Harry wound his way around the tree, extending his magical senses. No traps that he could find, and no one else besides whoever was inside. It was just one person, of that he was sure. Who they were was a mystery. They had a strange feel to them. They certainly weren't normal if the barrier was any indication. He didn't have much in the way of options, so he did the only thing he could.

      "Hello?" He waited a few moments but there was no response. He called once more and again there was no response. Well, this was an issue. If what Demonreach had said was true, whoever it was was hurt. They might be unconscious. This might also be a trap. Harry raised the gun in his hand and took careful aim at the wall of ice. Getting closer, he put the tip of his blasting rod against it and, channeling just enough power to crack it, muttered, "Forzare"

      Power jumped from the blasting rod and a spiderweb of cracks appeared on the wall. Keeping the gun steadied, he kicked at the barrier. It took a few more kicks but the wall eventually came down. Whoever had made it was strong.

      He was not prepared for what he saw inside. A pale woman was curdled in the center of the hollow, laying across what looked like some kind of fur. Brown hair clung to her face and blood and scratches covered her body, as well as what appeared to be bite marks. He inched closer, but she didn't respond. He tucked his blasting rod away into its holster and knelt beside her. She was very pale, although he didn't know if that was blood loss or her natural complexion. She appeared to have lost a lot of it. He put a finger to her neck to feel a pulse. It was faint, but there. Again, he hesitated. This could still be a trap. But he couldn't resist helping a damsel in distress. God knows how many times that had come back to bite him in the ass. Still, he couldn't just leave her here in the cold, bleeding to death.

      "Dammit," he breathed. So much for a quiet day. He picked her up and carried her to the cottage. Luckily he had stored some medical supplies and other things. He dressed her wounds and cleaned her up, before putting her into the small bed he had. The blanket wasn't very thick but it would do against the autumn chill. He started a small fire, letting it warm the room further. Then he sat down in a chair nearby and studied his guest. Great. Now, what am I going to do?

[blackstonedresden]

t-raith‌:

Thomas drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, staring at the door of the pub. On some level, he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot. This was his brother. This wasn’t any big deal. It was just a social call. He had wanted it in the first place! Well, eventually. Once he’d had enough time to try to process everything. To figure his own life out again. So why the sudden apprehension?

He wasn’t even sure what he was really feeling. Emotions were complicated and confusing at the best of times, and it just felt like a chaotic mess. There was nothing to stress about. He was fine. Sort of. Harry was fine. Probably. The world wasn’t ending. He hoped. What was the big deal?

“Oh, man up,” he muttered to himself at last, rolling his eyes. It felt forced, but it helped enough that he slid out of the car before he could stop to think about it further and headed into the pub.

He looked perfectly calm and relaxed as he sauntered inside, and he flashed Harry a bright grin of acknowledgement at the indicated seat, but he detoured by the counter to pick up a drink of his own first. He wanted the prop, something to occupy his hands, but to be fair, the ale was damn good and it was always worth the trip itself.

He sank into the chair across from Harry with inhuman grace, seemingly oblivious to the eyes on him, although once he was seated the pair of them didn’t seem to receive quite as much attention any longer.

“Hey,” he said, lifting his bottle in something of a toast. “Oh, you know. Same ol’. My sister has me running errands for her from time to time.” He laughed lightly and rolled his eyes. “It’s not as boring as it sounds. And, hey, pays the bills. I just try not to ask too many questions. We’re all happier that way.”

He hesitated, closing his fingers around the bottle. Despite the carefree facade, he couldn’t quite keep the tension from the corners of his eyes. He had a lot of questions. He had so many, he wasn’t sure where to begin, or what he could even bring himself to say.

“So you’re still alive,” he said at last, because he was just observant like that. And maybe still just a tiny bit bitter over the whole being dead thing. But secrets had never been anything new. Harry wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming person, not that he was in any position to judge something like that. “Glad to see it.”

      Harry waited while Thomas grabbed his drink and sat down. He half-grunted half-laughed at Thomas' description of his "errands." Knowing Lara it was probably a lot of seducing politicians or assassinations. Not that he could judge Thomas's choice in careers. Harry's wasn't any better. The small talk didn't last long, dying almost as soon as Thomas had sat down. The tension in the air was palpable.

      So much for delaying the inevitable, he thought to himself. He contemplated asking about Justine, but that might not end well. Not to mention they didn't know who was listening. Thomas was very protective of her, and pissing him off wasn't on Harry's list of things to do today.

      "So you're still alive."

      Harry looked down at himself when Thomas said it. Feeling himself with great exaggeration.

      "Yeah seems so. At least, I think I am. If not, this is not my idea of heaven." He took a sip of his drink and looked at it. "At least, partly." Harry could detect the hint of bitterness in Thomas' voice and winced internally. It cut him surprisingly deep to hear. He sighed.

      "Look, Thomas," Harry started, then hesitated. What was he supposed to say? So much had happened since he'd died and it all seemed to have happened so fast. He'd barely had time to come to terms with everything, and he was the one living it.

      "I'm sorry I didn't contact you. Not that I had much of an opportunity. After....after I got shot, I was saved by Mab and Demonreach." Might as well tell him the truth Thomas was his brother after all. If anyone deserved the truth, it was him. Trying to lie probably wouldn't end well anyway. Harry had gotten better at it, but Thomas was his brother and could probably tell when he even thought about lying. Harry explained about the plant and faery based life support he had received from the pair but didn't tell him about the parasite Mab had apparently made a deal with. No sense in worrying Thomas until he at least knew what he was dealing with.

      "After that, I spent some time recovering in Arctis Tor." Thomas should be familiar with it, they had been there before after all. Harry struggled not to shudder when he thought about his time there. "It wasn't a good time. Mab's idea of recovery involves a lot of murder attempts. Seems she wants a knight who can handle himself." The last part came out bitterly. Despite how traumatizing the whole experience had been, a small part of him had been glad when he'd been shot. No more responsibility, no more having the weight of the world on his shoulders, and no worrying about becoming the monster Mab so desired. Waking up to Mab hanging over him, like a hungry cat was a nightmare he still relived. Still, if it weren't for the torture she'd made him endure day after day, he probably wouldn't have been able to stop Maeve and Lily from destroying Demonreach. As much as he hated to admit it, he had to thank her for that.

      "I should have tried to contact you." Harry stared at his beer, not wanting to meet Thomas' eye, and not because he was afraid of a soul gaze.

[dresdenfilesincorrectquotes]

Meave: *At Harry’s birthday party* Trick or bear…?

Harry: Wait, bear?

Meave: He has chosen bear!

*chains rattle and The Bear roars*

[blackstonedresden]

I CAN’T STOP WHEEZING

[dresdenfilesincorrectquotes]

Harry: Butters. Hey Butters.

Butters: What?

Harry: Ask me what my backpack is made of.

Butters: Why would I ask you what your backpack is made of?

Harry: Just ask.

Butters: … Fine. Harry, wha-

Harry: *turns around to have Karrin hanging off his back like a sloth*

Karrin: Girlfriend material!

[blackstonedresden]

GOD I CAN’T WITH THIS IT IS SO FREAKJKOGIJIOTEGJIETJING CUTE

[blackstonedresden]

      Harry was surprised when Thomas agreed to meet with him for lunch. They hadn't really spoken much since the Island incident. Harry had been gone for a long time, and while he knew Thomas had had Justine to help him, he was still worried. Thomas was his brother after all. Thomas hadn't really said much after the incident. Mostly left Harry to his own devices. Not that Harry had really made an effort to reconnect with anyone once his mission was done. He had been staying on the island, but still needed to go to shore for fresh supplies.

      McAnally's Pub was far from a private place to meet, but it wasn't too busy during the day. Plus, Mac's place was accorded neutral territory, so no worrying about bad guys jumping them and ruining their meeting. Harry arrived about half an hour before they were supposed to meet, unusual for him. He gave a nod to mac, grabbed an ale and ordered some steak sandwiches, and sat down at a table. He was surprised at how nervous he was. He was just having lunch with his brother after all. Still, he kept nervously glancing between the door and the ale in his hand. A few people came and went only three or four times, but every time the door opened Harry unconsciously glanced towards it.

      After about thirty minutes Thomas finally strolled in the door. He was tall, not nearly as tall as Harry, but he was a lot more well built. His dark curly hair fell about him in a sprawl that he somehow made look good. Thomas looked like something out of a magazine, or an ancient Greek statue. Everyone instinctively looked when Thomas walked in, and some kept on looking. Harry waved to him and pointed to the chair near him. When Thomas approached, Harry was unsure of what to say. He settled for, "Hey Thomas. How ya been?" @t-raith

[blackstonedresden]

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

spellofthesouth‌:

blackstonedresden‌:

“You have a black eye. Were you fighting with someone?“ 

“What, this? Just a misunderstandin’ ‘tween a nice guy an’ an asshole who thinks he can try an’ take my hat off the nice guy’s head.”

“Is the asshole still amongst the living? And since when do you let other people wear your hat?”

“Yeah, he’s still breathin’. His bike’s pretty fucked up, though. The nice guy was me, hoss.”

“Oh really? I don’t really picture you as the nice guy type. Thought it was an asshole-a-asshole situation.”

“I’m a nice guy,” Bill replied defensively. “I’m nice enough to call a man an’ his buddies a ride home after a rip roarin’ good tussle. Lucky I was drinkin’ in a bar close to the outskirts o’ town.”

      "Hmph. Can't argue with that. A hell of a lot nicer than I am. I wouldn't have called the ride. Probably just tossed change at them. Not even enough change at that. Also, if there's a warrant out for your arrest now, I'm not harboring you. I've done that enough for one lifetime."

[dresdenfilesincorrectquotes]

Murphy: So we have good news, and we have bad news.

Dresden: My Godmother always said, “Bad news first because the good news is probably a lie.” Fun fact: she made me cry a lot.