Requst: Ritual gone wrong with celebrimbor! I've been playing shadow of mordor and I just love him. What's more spooky than being bonded to a ghost? I'm not saying it has to follow the plot lines of the games at all, I'm just inspired/going for the vibes of that.
Pairing: Celebrimbor x Reader
Genre: Crack/ found family
Summary: From death by banner to an expecting mother, Celebrimbor's plot was insane.
AN: This is bonkers. Proceed with caution. Also, Shadow of Mordor Celebrimbor is the definition of how I imagine elves to look like so I feel ya anon.
Celebrimbor blinked once. Close his eyes and shook himself awake once again. Wait, why was he closing his eyes like a mortal?
The huge bump still lay in front of his vision. His bump to be exact. A feeling of faint disbelief makes him swoon only for a tiny kick to stop his dissent.
That is when he hears a small fleeting thought of incoherent hunger. The child was hungry. He noted distantly. The child inside him. Inside the body that now belonged to him.
What in the Timeless Halls was this?
“That’s my body dipshit,” The baby- no, another voice intercepts his thoughts. Another annoyed raspy voice. “Yes, it is I, your summoner. If only I had known that the spirit I get would be an equal mess.” The voice grumbled and an image of a human woman materialized in his mind, no in the woman’s mind that was now his? Or was it his mind in the woman’s body?
“You are human.” He whispers out loud to which the voice scoffs. “Yes, Einstein. I am a woman.” It You answer and Celebrimbor cannot bring himself to ask more about Einstein. He got the gist of it. “Didn’t you know who you were answering to when you walked your grand self into my circle?”
He had no idea how he was here in the first place. One second he was a banner on Sauron’s battlefield and another, he woke up with a child. And not even in his body. Was this another of Sauron’s baffling visions?
“Holy hell dude, that’s some graphic shit. Did no one tell you to not traumatize expecting mothers?” You cringe covering your eyes. Only then does Celebrimbor realize that his thoughts were now projected to you and the child. With a wince, he turns his thoughts to pressing matters.
“Where am I?” He asks the mortal woman lounging in the shared mental palace.
“In my summoning circle. That I made for a bargain. Not the body swap legenderia.” You shift trying to sit comfortably, failing to do that like a practiced dance that led to a string of curses every time. “Pregnant women can’t be comfortable even in their thoughts.” You sigh looking at the lost elf.
Celebrimbor, as if spurred into action, adjusts the cushion that materializes into the thin air just as he thinks about it. Helping you lean comfortably, he relishes in the sleepy murmurs of the child now content as its mother.
“Why did you summon me?” He sits next to you, feeling the fatigue from the human body. It’s heaviness he found himself unused to given that his jump had been from his elven form to a heavily pregnant woman.
You look at him scrutinizing him. Much to your disappointment, your summoned one ended up in your body instead of coming in a much-desired combat-enabled form. But for some absurd reason, you do not feel anything. Not the despair of a failed ritual or the shock of having a chat with the elf who now seemed to be in charge of your body. Only the everlasting urge to pee persists.
“I did it for revenge. The original plan was to find something sinister enough to mess up the man who left me in this state.” You point to your belly. “Left us hungry, begging for food. I wanted to make him suffer. Make him hate his life. But the kid got scared. It held on to your soul instead of whatever monstrosity I had asked for from Gothmog.” Celebrimbor blinks, his mouth agape.
On any other day, he would’ve been enraged, mad at the careless Eru-forsaken woman who did not once care for her child, the idiot human. He perhaps would have, had her child taken away the second it was born. Yet, now he could not help but look at you, at himself in the mirror, and see the scrawny human stare back. Calouse hands, slouched shoulders, and fragments of a nightmare he did not pry into. Of the rights and wrongs of this world, how would he judge someone who had let go of everything? Who had been robbed of everything and was still expected to love.
His despair was hers, and hers was his. Pain of betrayal, of pain, of scorn, shame, and guilt. All he knew too well. “You could have killed the child,” he whispers looking at you failing to sound every bit admonishing that he tries to be. “I am aware.” You reply with a stony gaze. “And the child will die of hunger either way. So why not sate its blood thirst as a last favor?”
Behind all the bitter words, all he feels is gut-wrenching sorrow. Despite the righteous urge to scream at your foolishness, he only gathers a tug of unfair empathy. Of the wrongness of love that bloomed out of sorrow- for a child you desired to hate.
It was wrong. All of this. And those were your thoughts that he knew to be. Anger, love, disgust all lingered in the body Celebrimbor’s soul fell into.
And then he does what none in the living eternity of Arda would have expected. “Is there a spell for procuring another body? I reckon a male vessel would be better.” He looks around trying to spot the spell book in your surroundings. “A vessel matching the child’s father.” He watches your eyes widen in surprise.
“Yes, page 345 goes over it.” You speak in a daze. The Child inside you waking up to kick in order to express its approval of the elf’s crazy fucking plan.
That is how Celebrimbor the ancient elven lord, King of Eregion found himself in the body of a 25-year-old man named Thomas Duffy. A miraculous plane crash survivor.
That is how the line of Feanor continues in your world. With your firstborn daughter, who was born with glimmering eyes for unexplainable reasons, and your twins, who possessed uncanny pointed ears.
Celebrimbor, the name, felt ancient in the tales that he told to his daughter. Your daughter, who had pulled him into her world, away from the pain and death of his world. Away from oaths, dark lords, and dooming jewelry. And Celebrimbor had clung to her mercy.
In this world, his fate was not of extravagant creations or becoming the doom of the entire world. In this world, most crises were limited to the principal's office visits for his twins. Or your pregnancy mood swings.
Never in the history of the world had been struck a bargain so pleasant. A bargain where nothing was lost.
Off to her right, Sonya can see Harriet carefully scribing every flash of light, every deafening sound, every oddity.
She’s distractingly beautiful, focused like she is with her braids lifting at the ends from the whirling magic, if Sonya’s being honest with herself. Now's not the time for honesty. The runes flash at her, and she checks them instinctively.
The runes are all in place, she’s said her incantations; there’s no reason to believe that this will go wrong this time.
If she’s wrong–
She can’t be wrong.
Sonya is blinded by the purple flash for just a second, but it’s a second too long.
By the time it fades, she knows it’s over.
Still, she and Harriet watch until the runes fade from the floor, and they don’t speak until they leave the room.
“I think we need to get Brenda or Teresa involved. Maybe Rachel, too.” Harriet says.
“They’ll tell the others, and we don’t need everyone knowing.”
“This is the ritual that nearly killed Thomas and Minho, Sonya. Thomas still isn’t allowed to do much of anything.”
“I know.” She’s consulted with them more than anyone else–they can’t figure out what went wrong either.
“We can study what happened this time and try again next month.” Harriet puts a hand on her lower back, and Sonya shivers into it.
“Okay.”
finish on ao3 or continue reading
“How’d it go?” Thomas is up and walking again, at least; he’d been closer to the spell when it exploded.
Nearly the same spot Sonya and Harriet cast from, actually.
“Same as last time. Failed.”
“We might have to give this one up, Sonya.”
“Newt and Alby tell you anything else about it?”
“No–you think they would, since they’ve done it successfully.”
“Teresa and Brenda won’t say anything, either.”
“Minho and I are going to try again in a couple of months.” Thomas says, softly.
“So you have a death wish now?”
“I think it will work.”
“Maybe let Harriet and I figure it out first.”
“It’s not a competition.”
“It is if you’re dumb enough to try again when you can barely light a candle.”
“What did Harriet note down this time?”
“There were a couple more color changes, but there doesn’t seem to be any significance to them.”
“Well, at least you wrote it down.” Thomas rubs her head like she’s still shorter than him. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s Harriet.”
“That’s what I said about Minho, too.” Sonya rolls her eyes. “I should get this back to her. I’ll see you later.”
“See you around.” Thomas winks, and the only reason Sonya doesn’t shove him is because he probably wouldn’t be able to get back up.
Harriet and Sonya spend the next month comparing their previous attempts to Thomas and Minho’s, and bothering Teresa and Brenda to give up their secret.
Newt and Alby seem to have conveniently fled campus (graduated) before anyone came to them with questions.
They wear purple, like the final color change of the last failed attempt, and draw the runes more carefully than ever.
Sonya’s taking notes this time–she’s just lucky she doesn’t have to write anything down while Harriet is speaking, because she’d be in trouble then.
“Next month,” Harriet says again, as they walk away from another failure.
“Thomas and Minho are trying again next month, too.”
“Are they trying to end up with the worst cases of magical exhaustion on campus?”
“I don’t know. Thomas thinks it’ll work, but he doesn’t want to say why until he’s tried it.”
“Makes sense.”
For a moment, it seems like Harriet is going to kiss her–Sonya might die then–but it passes before she can do anything silly like kiss her back.
“I wish someone would even look over our notes.” Sonya sighs.
“I think it’s tradition to get it wrong like this,” Harriet says, “Brenda and Teresa got it wrong a few times.”
“Newt and Alby only had to do it twice, though.”
“We just have to beat Thomas and Minho to it.” Harriet’s smirking, now, and Sonya kind of wants to lick her teeth.
“Next month.”
“Next month.”
Sonya throws herself at Harriet as the runes glow brighter than she’s ever seen them–they don’t make it out of the building.
“Fuck.” Sonya pokes at one of the burns on her leg. “Think we could get someone to stay quiet about this?”
“No way. Everyone knows we’re doing this, anyway.” Harriet takes Sonya’s face in her hands. There’s a rush of magic behind her, but Sonya doesn’t pay it any mind.
Harriet does, though. Harriet sits up straight, nearly dumping Sonya from her lap.
“I think I’ve got it.”
“What? Tell me!”
“Once we’ve been looked at. We’re both burned.” Harriet helps her up, and doesn’t let go of Sonya’s hand once.
The burns don’t feel nearly as bad with Harriet’s hand in hers.
“Morning, Sonya,” Harriet kisses her cheek before she opens the fridge, and Sonya freezes. “How are your legs?”
“They’re fine,” She’ll be healed by next month for sure. “Yours?”
“Already healed.”
“Of course,” Sonya rolls her eyes. “At least we’re not drained like Thomas and Minho.”
“I wonder if they’ve gone yet.” Harriet says. “Come here, I wanna kiss you.”
“You can’t just–” Harriet kisses her before she can say anything else, which is really for the best.
“Hi,” Sonya whispers, their faces too close for her to see Harriet properly. “Wait, what did you figure out yesterday?”
“This,” Harriet kisses her again.
“We have to kiss for the ritual to work?” Sonya won’t complain about that.
“Well, no. But it helps, in our case.”
They’ve been trying this for months–kissing is what fixes it? Really? And no one would tell them that?
“Do you think the runes know how much I watch you when we’re doing… anything?” She asks.
“Probably.” Harriet shrugs. “The reason no one would tell us, Sonya, is because they knew we had to get here on our own.”
“Here… you mean kissing in our kitchen?”
“I mean hopefully going on a date tonight.” Harriet smiles, and Sonya can’t help herself. She has to kiss her again.
“Does this mean we can shove our beds together now?”
“Why don’t we just go get a new mattress instead?”
“Expensive. Bigger sheets?”
“Deal.”
They leave the milk out on the counter for so long it curdles while they’re giggling and kissing and touching just because they can.
That night, after their date to the store to buy new sheets and milk and make heart eyes at each other over the cart, Sonya realizes something.
“Harriet, I think we got it before Thomas and Minho.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think they have to blow up at least once more before they get their shit together and start dating.”
“We can’t tell them we started dating,” Harriet says. “We’ll have to pretend we’re still all moony-eyed and then get it right and then not tell them anything.”
“They’re going to hate us.”
“Worth it.” Harriet laughs, and Sonya wants to bottle the sound and place it in the center of next month’s ritual.
A week later, Thomas and Minho are in the hospital again, with lighter injuries than last time. Sonya and Harriet don’t hold hands when they visit, so they don’t give the answer away, but they giggle over the way Thomas and Minho look at each other the whole way home.
In comparison to all of their other attempts, their final one is simple. The runes glow a soft purple, flashing thrice, and a pleasing melody lilts through the air.
“We got it.” Harriet whispers, once the runes have faded and the magic has thinned. “Sonya, we got it.”
“Now we can start planning our wedding, right?”
“Absolutely.” They kiss for longer than necessary, and when they pull apart, there are two bracelets laying in the middle of the ritual circle.
“I think those are for us,” Sonya steps into the circle carefully and picks them up. She slides Harriet’s onto her left wrist as carefully as if it were a wedding ring, and Harriet does the same for her.
It’s difficult, not telling Thomas or Minho anything, but they keep their months shut–it’s not like either of them will be in any shape to attempt the ritual again soon.
They figure it out over the summer, though, and are the first pair of the new school year to complete the ritual.
Just in time to ask if Sonya and Harriet would consider a double wedding in the spring.
Okay so master of death Harry who, after his natural death traveled through dimensions as he pleased and basically ruled over the death as a sort of amalgamation of the realms of Hades and Thanatos? I guess? But like. Partnered w death? To do that? I can't brain rn
Anyways inspired by this fic where he's bored so Death is like hey yo in this one dimensions the Harry there got yote through the veil and now the order is doing a ritual to try an summon A Harry
Potter, whether theirs or another dimensions, and he goes through and fucks w them it's crack and great I'll put a link in the comments soon (it's not complete I think it's only a few chaps)
ANYWAY so it's inspired by that fic
So a MoD Harry is summoned into this world and he's older than the Harry there and maybe he takes over the Harry there, maybe a ritual for power gone wrong? But he doesn't have the background of what's going on in this world so he pretends to be semi amnesiac? Or, he could legit BE amnesiac for a bit oooh that'd be cool 😎 he doesn't have knowledge of the world and he only has limited knowledge of his but he has good instinct and is wary and stuff for some reason and maybe he has flashes as he sees people doing something his versions did? Shit that would be so COOL!!!! Esp if it was drawn that would b wicked.
Could be bashing if the old worlds characters or the new worlds characters and he has trouble separating them at first I would love to read smth like this.
Maybe at some point he remembers Death but! He doesn't remember it's literally. Death. So he's just constantly searching for him in this new universe and maybe because death shapeshifts to a new form as he wishes Harry thinks it's a metamorphmagus but the only one is tonks... Poor Harry XD can't find his best pal. Maybe the conclusion of the fic or even. Part one of the series😉 would be him dying or something and Death is like, Hey Stranger, what the hell have you been up to? Or maybe he just laughs at him and sends Harry back bc, this is the funniest thing to happen in a millenia! His dumbass friend who literally rules over death/with the personification of death FORGOT. ALL OF IT.
The pillar fell, and the world exploded. Bolts of jagged lightening crashed around them. She could hear Neve's groan of pain and Harding call to them.
Then she saw Varric, lying far too still on the ground. Energy crackled as she ran to his side and dropped to her knees. "Varric?!" A plea, a cry, she wasn't sure anymore. Her eyes looked up and she saw the fury in Solas's expression. He sensed something behind him and turned. Two figures began to rise beyond him.
The electricity in the air intensified and she felt it prickle against her skin. She saw a flash of demons? Spirits? They swirled through the air.
A bolt split the sky. She felt white hot pain crawl through her body. A concussive boom filled the air as she was tossed like a rag doll into a pillar, but the world was already a haze. Her heart stuttered.
Something flew at her, and flew into her?
Her next memory was of someone throwing her arm over their shoulder and half dragging her away from the ritual site. She wasn't sure how far they got before they set her down.
Then, she knew only the blessed dark of unconsciousness.
“After performing a strange ritual, things go horribly wrong!”((Phantom is still personality switched but after its over she’ll go back to being herself))*Phantom coughs loudly, waving her hand around to get the smoke to clear* WHAT THE FUCK MATT!?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!? I told you not to fucking bloody hell in the devils ass to not use that ingredient!!
