#sparked by me asking wizard this very same question

[gorgeous777]

Fake, Barty Crouch Jr x Fem. Reader

You walk into Professor Moody's class only to find another man there. What happens next?

A/N: The following below is nsfw, teacher × student. The reader is set to be 17 and a seventh year, so legal within the Wizarding World.

Enjoy!

_______________________

You should have knocked. Came at a different time. Another day. Anything but just walk straight into his office. You were going to see Professor Moody to ask a question. A question in which you couldn't even recall now. When you had walked into Moody's office, he wasn't sitting there. Instead, there was a dirty looking man with somewhat greasy brown hair. He'd been sitting lazily on the sofa against the wall with wand in hand when you had barged in. Any words you had intended on saying died in your throat when your eyes landed on the man. His head perked up at the sound of the door opening, and for a moment your eyes locked. Instantly, you knew something was very wrong. That you shouldn't be there. Quickly as you could muster, you spun around on your heels and attempted to flee the office.

To no avail, since the door slammed shut in your face. It locked just as quickly as it closed. Ice cold fear trickled down your spine. The kind you'd get as a little kid when faced with your worst fear. A small strained groan came from the man behind you as he stood up. "It's a shame really," He spoke slowly "I was hoping to not have to kill any students just yet. Seems lady luck has yet again over-looked me." Calculated and heavy footsteps drew close to you. One by one. Like a predator stalking its prey. Until they stopped just behind you. You could practically feel how close he was. A breathy chuckle left the man. Very hesitantly and very slowly, you turned around to face him. Your head was down and your gaze glued to the floor. There was hardly any space between the two of you.

"Oh, a (house name)?" He cooed curiously after taking a glance at the crest embroidered into your robes. He placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to get a good look at your face. Your eyes lock again. A wicked grin formed across his features, and his tongue flicked out of the corner of his mouth. Like a snakes would. "Miss Y/L/N, what a surprise. I would have thought you have better manners than to just walk right into a room without knocking" He lifts his wand up and drags the tip of it along your jaw, his tongue flicking out a few more times as he did. "What to do with you now is the question.." As he spoke, he ran the tip of his wand down your neck. Your eyes follow his movements as best they could. It took you a moment to realize who this man was. But sure enough when you did, that fear you felt upped by at least ten.

He was Bartemius Crouch Jr. You'd read about him in some old news letters before. "I could torture you, or just kill you right out" Internal panic had set in, and you needed to find a way out of this situation and quick. "Neither" You manage to croak out. "Oh? And what do you suppose I do instead? Surely I can't just let you go" Your eyes dart around the room, desperately looking for some sort of escape. There was none. You needed a distraction or something. "Why.. Hurt me, when you can do much more.. Pleasurable, things to me?" You tried not to sound scared, but you couldn't help the tremble in your voice. His eyes widen with only what you could describe as sadistic intrigue.

"Oh naughty girl" His tongue flicked out once more as he took a step closer. Immediately, you took one back and only pressed yourself to the door. He slipped his wand into his pocket and used that same hand to cup the underside of your jaw; keeping you looking up at him. The touch of his warm and large calloused hands sent a spark throughout your body. "Perhaps I should" Admittedly, he was attractive. So up close and personal, you could see every one of his features. He was dirty, gross, but oddly hot. Very hot. "I think I like me a bad girl" As he spoke, his voice dropped to that of a sultry whisper. Meanwhile his thumb lightly stroked over your cheek. "I think the bad girl likes you" The moment those words left your mouth, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes go wide and a strangled noise leaves you. Though, that initial shock disappeared rather quickly as your eyes flutter shut and you return the heated kiss. His large hands move to your body, touching it eagerly. One goes to your breasts and kneads at it. While the other finds your waist and holds you close to him. He presses his hips to yours, grinding the tent in his trousers against you. He tore his lips away from yours and began to trail open mouth kisses down your neck. As he did, he wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you up against the door. "And does the naughty girl like this?" He murmurs as he grinds his hips against yours.

A low chuckle came from the back of his throat at the gasp you gave in response. "How cute, she does" His crotch presses firmly into yours, rocking at teasing pace. A small whimper leaves your lips before you could stop it. That friction felt fantastic against your wet core. Suddenly his arms are tight around you and moving you to a wall rather than the door. You instantly cling to him out of fear, egging on a sadistic chuckle from him. "Poor thing" He coos mockingly, one of his hands moving from your body to unfasten his trousers. He let out a low whine at the feeling of his hard length being freed from the tight restraints that were his bottoms.

The noise he let out went straight to your core, only adding to the blossoming feeling there. That same hand he used to free himself went to the apex of your thighs, stroking you slowly through your knickers. He smirks at how soaked your knickers are, then leaning his face into your neck. "So wet, practically running like a tap" His tone his teasing and sultry. He pulled the fabric aside, lining himself up to your entrance. "Last chance to back out, naughty girl." Though your body trembled and your eyes were blown, you managed to shake your head. "No, please, keep going" You croak out, sounding just as pathetic as you looked. He grinned then pressed himself to your entrance. His hips jerked, though he didn't enter you. He chuckled slightly in amusement. Teasing you was fun and thoroughly amusing.

The way you whined and made needy faces. It made him more excited. After teasing you for a few more short moments, he slowly started to push into your welcoming core. "Bollocks, that's good.." His voice came out a low murmur as his eyes fluttered shut. His hips steadily rocked, sliding in and out of you with slick ease. He let out low whines and breathy groans every so often. His length pushed deep and massaged your most sensitive flesh. Progressively, his movement picked up in pace and force. Holding for a while before doubling on itself before he was bucking up into you desperately. He'd since buried his face into your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. His noises got more frequent, mingling with his body twitching.

His voice was like honey in your ears. Oozing down through your body and filling your lower abdomen. Warming hotter and hotter until it finally reached its boiling point. Spilling over and dripping down his length. The clench your body gave around him as you found your release triggered his own. His hips bucked in a pathetic and desperate manner as he finally came with a breathy whine. Steadily slowing down thereafter, both of you breathed heavily. Uneven, gasping breaths. His body went slack against yours, pressing you firmly to the wall. He gave a strangled grunt at he pulled out. After, his head lolled back from your neck, a weak and tooth grin plastered on his face. His tongue again flicked out before he spoke.

"I think I'll make you my plaything now"

[pagesfromthevoid]

Sparks Fly | r. | I

Rolan x Sorceress!Tav

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Named Tav (Anstasiya, goes by Tav), canon violence

Author's Note: I'm BACK BITCHES. Whether you like Rolan or not, I am very excited to introduce you to this story. I'm already 3 parts in, and I don't know how long it'll be but it'll be fun

Series Masterlist | Talk to Me!

“What’s the point of spells and blades if we don’t bloody well use them?” Lia snaps at him, and Rolan has to hold his breath for a moment to keep from yelling back.

“I will not jeopardize our lives for these people,” he tries to explain as calmly as he can. But his voice is tight and he’s trying to be stern.

“You should stay and fight,” a voice interrupts, and Rolan looks over to see a half-elf woman strolling up casually. She’s wearing a mix matched set of sorcerer’s robes, as if she nicked them in pieces instead of getting them all at once, and carries a glowing staff across her back. Based on that alone, Rolan knows she’s a sorceress, though she certainly doesn’t seem like one when he spots the dagger on her belt as well. “Every blade counts –and yes, magic is a blade.” She’s looking Rolan up and down before giving him a teasing wink.

Rolan is taken aback, swallowing hard before shaking his head –both to be rid of the blush he feels creeping up and to get his point across. “Staying is a mistake.”

“And miss all the fun?” the drow asks, looking up at him with a wry grin. “What’s the rush to leave?”

For a moment, he stares down at her. For someone who doesn’t even know his name, she is speaking to him like they’ve known each other their whole lives. Rolan isn’t sure what to make of her, though he’s happy to answer questions about their end goal.

“If you must know, we are trying to get to Baldur’s Gate –I have an apprenticeship under Master Lorroakan.”

“Isn’t that the master of Ramizith’s Tower?” She inquires, brow raised. Rolan knows she knows he is, but he’s too proud to point that out.

“The very same.”

“He’s a young man, right?” Her companion –a wizard as well –interrupts. “A bit of a cad, if rumors are true.”

“He’s a master of his craft,” Rolan quickly defends, narrowing his eyes at the wizard. 

“If that’s the case, I would most certainly appreciate an introduction one day. I’m Gale, of Waterdeep.”

The woman rolls her eyes playfully, shifting as she watches the conversation unfold. Rolan tries to ignore her the best he can. “If a master of the arcane is what you seek, then look no further than myself.”

Lia snorted as the woman beside her held back a laugh. “Stop bragging, Rolan –you can show them how good you are if we stay.”

His sister knows how to press the right buttons and goad him into things, and Rolan can’t help but give in finally. “Fine, fine. We’ll stay.”

Lia shouts in excitement, but Rolan has a bad feeling in his stomach as he turns to face the wizard and sorceress, who still stand before him. She’s not paying attention to them, however, and is instead looking ahead towards where the children are training. Rolan follows her gaze, but she’s walking away before he knows what she’s looking at. Her wizard companion sighs, and shakes his head with a knowing smile.

“Excuse Tav,” he explains, “She’s got a bit of a one track mind when she wants to do something. Be safe!”

Rolan watches as Gale and…Tav –what an unusual name –as well as the rest of her party join the children on the training platform. He’s staring, and he knows he’s staring, but he can’t help it as he follows Tav’s movements. She’s not graceful by any means –she nearly trips when she tries to step up onto the platform –and her laugh is louder than it should be. None of her companions offer her aid, though, and Rolan feels a bit annoyed by that. Tav might not be someone he would be friends with, but she’s still a lady –the least they could do is make sure she’s okay. But Tav is laughing, tilting her head back as her pale elf companion says something that must be funny. 

Lia hurries after them, hollering something about getting practice in. Cal is just grinning at Rolan like he knows something Rolan does not. 

“What are you looking at?” He snaps.

Cal just shrugs and walks away, his grin not going anywhere.

Rolan throws his hands in the air, following after his siblings like a mother goose. 

*****

“You know, I never pictured myself a hero,” Astarion complains, looking over the goblet of wine in his hand with disgust. “I hate it. It’s revolting.”

Tav rolls her eyes, snagging the bottle he holds in the other hand. “It’s not that bad, Astarion. You’ll get used to it.”

“I’d rather not,” he scoffs, polishing off his wine. “I’m going to go bother the druid –maybe he’ll be more entertaining than you, Anastasiya.”

Tav makes a face at the use of her full name, sticking out her tongue at him. While she didn’t hate her name by any means, it felt strange having anyone else use it again. Especially after everything that happened in Nimbral so long ago. “And here I thought we were friends. It’s Tav, Astarion.”

“Hardly, darling. Besides, I happen to find your name charming.”

“Asshole.”

Tav glances down at the wine, huffing in annoyance before taking a swig of it. Astarion is right about one thing: the wine might as well be vinegar. But it’s strong, and she’s still in a good enough mood that his snarky attitude won’t bother her if she finds someone nicer to talk to.

Though nice seems to be subjective because the people she finds herself wandering over to are Cal and Lia, who are making fun of Rolan. She stands for a moment, watching as he scolds them for their comments. She likes Rolan, if anything because she likes that he’s confident in his skills. Most wizards are, of course; they’re learned in magic and spend many a year learning. She, on the other hand, is simply blessed with magic in her blood. Everything she knows, she knows because she’s messed it up somehow and learned from her mistakes. No one was there to teach her, so she’s always been a bit jealous of wizards who got to go to school and master their skills. 

“Well, I for one would love to see your spell, Rolan,” Tav interrupts finally, sitting down beside Lia with a genuine smile. 

Rolan eyes her skeptically for a moment. However, he seems to determine that she’s being serious and nods once in response, taking a breath.

“Performance issues, Rolan?” Cal teases, and Lia cackles at the comment. 

“Shut it, you,” Rolan snaps at his brother. Tav just rolls her eyes, watching the eldest tiefling with a reassuring smile.

Finally, after a few more moments of preparation, Rolan mutters a quick Fiat Lux –and throws his hands in front of him. Lights surround them, dancing in purples and blues and pinks, and Tav smiles even more and claps her hands together excitedly. Genuinely excited too, if anything because the spell has always been one of her favorites since she was a child. It isn’t a powerful spell by any means, but for someone only just learning magic, it was impressive and steady, which is more than most beginners can say. 

She’s captivated for a moment, watching him. They don’t know each other –not well, anyway –but she thinks that he’s more confident suddenly. His movements are smooth and his hands are steady and Tav wonders, briefly, how his hands feel. The thought makes her blush. Even his siblings, who were making fun of him just minutes ago, are watching with excitement in their eyes and bright smiles. She thinks they would be friends if things weren’t so messy, and Tav has the sudden thought that he’s rather handsome when he smiles. 

The thought makes her face burn almost immediately again, but she blames it on the wine as she holds the bottle up in cheers. That’s a reckless thought, she scolds herself. There isn’t enough certainty of what will happen in the next few weeks for her to be thinking such thoughts. Even in passing, she has more important things to worry about and so does Rolan.

“That was brilliant!” She exclaims, and she means it. Distracting herself from her silly thoughts.

Cal and Lia continue to tease their brother again, however, and his genuine smile turns into an eye roll and a smirk as he insults them back. Tav has always wondered what it would be like to have siblings –and seeing how the three of them are gives her a fun answer.

“Thank you for the adoring applause,” Rolan proclaims, his attention snapping to Tav as he bows. “Just wait until I begin my apprenticeship under Master Lorrokoan. I’ll be even more impressive.”

“I’ll just have to visit you when we get to Baldur’s Gate then, won’t I?”

Rolan opens his mouth to say something but Lia is cutting in, teasing her brother again. “Oh, yes you will. Someone needs to keep his ego in check besides me!”

Tav laughs a bit awkwardly, taking another sip of her wine before handing the bottle off to Rolan who just glares at his sister. The conversation has shifted away from Tav and she takes her cue to slip away with a soft goodnight to the siblings. 

Rolan, however, snags her sleeve to stop her –and he looks panicked when he does it. Lia and Cal are staring at their brother, just as surprised by his sudden movement. Tav does not know Rolan all that well, but she’s under the impression that whatever he’s doing –it’s not something he usually does. Tav, to her credit, just stops and smiles up at him.

Their eyes meet, just for a moment, and Tav can’t help but notice how his irises shift like the fires that light up their camp. Her heart is beating in her chest, and she wonders if he’s going to ask her to stay. She —maybe selfishly, maybe foolishly —hopes he asks her to stay. 

Rolan drops his hand to his side, instead, and even with his already reddened pallor and the darkness –she can tell he’s blushing.

“Sorry –I just –goodnight, Miss Tav.”

“Goodnight, Rolan.”

As she walks away, she hears Cal whistle and comment, “Ooh, sparks were flying, Rol!”

Tav’s cheeks flush as she snatches another bottle of wine before retreating to her own tent. When she closes her eyes, however, she’s haunted by fiery eyes and proud smiles and her mind seems to forget to remind her that anything besides fixing her tadpole problem is a bad idea.

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

In honour of #CRAspecFestWk2 I feel that this is the perfect time to Soft Launch the fact that I have been working on an Aeor Date Shadowgast fic for a little while... I wanted to have a lot more of it finished before I revealed it but fuck it lol, maybe this will motivate me to write!

I'm being a little Fancy with format lol, I've tentatively decided to present it as a kind of Found Manuscript, the manuscript in question being the research diary Essek kept during the trip, which starts out being strictly business with a few slips and deliberate ommissions, and slowly gets more and more personal until he's barely writing about the research at all and it's just fully a personal journal lol. It's a Getting Together fic so expect a lot of Longing as well as a bit of early relationship honeymoon phase

Anyway, in the interest of getting some Aspec Vibes out there this week, see below the cut to read some curated snippets from three scenes which may or may not be used in the final version, which I feel touch upon the Demisexual Experience to some extent:

Snippet 1: a pre-gettting-together musing on different 'speeds' of attraction:

I am not stupid. I do know that the feeling is mutual. Nor do I think he is stupid, and I am sure he knows as well. Similar as we are, I find him easy to read, although, different as we are, I suspect we came at it very differently. Like fire and ice, Cheszara said, and it does ring true: I am glacially slow to move, while Caleb’s feelings catch quickly and burn bright. I dare not wonder how much earlier he arrived upon it than I did. I’m afraid that, if I asked, he’d say, immediately. He has the capacity for it, in a way that I don’t. In the past year or so alone - according to Jester and Beau and my own eyes - that spark has kindled for half a dozen people (if you count the three of them who have taken turns in the same body). Of course, when I think of that, a quiet voice in the back of my head that still has a shred of humility (that voice is never very loud in wizards) asks how I can possibly hope, being one of so many options, to be the one he chooses. Perhaps in my slowness to bloom, the moment has passed, and someone else’s claim has taken precedence. The much louder voice of my ego (again, a wizards’ trait) takes an inventory and reassures me that I am probably the best option, or close to it. 

That likely speaks more of his questionable taste than it does of my virtue. 

But no, I am certainly not afraid that he does not feel the same, or that I would be a bad choice for him, but despite what some may think, that does not leave me with nothing to fear. He may feel more for someone else. He may feel against his will, and choose to reject those feelings. He may be advised away by others. He may find that the life he wants to live does not have room for everything he wants, and compromises must be made. His logical mind may make a different choice from what I will generously call his heart (generously to myself, anyway). The simple phenomenon of two people feeling similarly towards each other does not make everything else fall away; life is many-faceted, timing is important, and circumstances must align - choices, as I have learnt the hard way, must be made consciously and hollistically, with consideration for the ripple effect they will have. To want something does not always lead to choosing it. 

I would choose it, of course. But I am only half the authority. 

Snippet 2: a flashback featuring Marion, my favourite aspec headcanon, which is maybe only tangientally aspec and more about just Being Hot But Not Wanting A Lot Of Sex in general, but I wanted to include it bc I love it lol:

“It's ‘break',” Marion said. 

“What?”

“The lyric,” she said, referring to the song I'd just finished. She was sitting next to me on the piano stool. “I break every lovely thing I touch. You said burn, instead of break. Why?”

“I misspoke,” I told her honestly. 

“Why?” she did not let me escape her question so easily. 

I shrugged evasively. “Common is not my first language.”

She was not fooled. “You don't have to tell me why,” she said. “Just ponder it yourself.”

“I don't need to ponder,” I allowed her a glimpse of the truth: “I know why.”

“Beauty,” she said, in a change of subject that seemed incongruous at the time, “is not always the blessing some people think it is, is it?”

“I don't know - you've built quite an empire with yours.”

She gave a perfectly charming laugh. “Oh, I like that - an empire of beauty! What an amusing turn of phrase. Well, perhaps - but don't pretend you have not learned to turn your own curse to your advantage. You would not look like you do if you had not.”

With a smile I reminded her that the face she was looking at was not my real face. She knew what my real face looked like, of course, but we were in public, so at this moment it was hidden behind an illusion.

“Exactly,” she said. “If you resented your pretty face so much, you'd take this opportunity to wear an ordinary one, to blend into a crowd - but you have chosen another just as beautiful as the original. If you did not wish to be beautiful, you need not wear all that finery, the jewellery, the shimmer, any of it. You could try to hide, but you don't.”

I did not know what to say. She narrowed her eyes perceptively.

“It is strange, isn't it? How frightening it is to walk through the world, minding your own business and yet affecting people regardless - breaking hearts and making waves you never intended to, simply because of how people react to something you carry with you always, something out of your control -” she leaned in and added in a conspiratorial stage whisper: “but isn't it even more awful to hide your face under a plain veil, and walk down the street without seeing a single child gaze up at you in awe as you go by?” 

She had perfectly captured a feeling I had never even thought to put into words, the strange paradox of going through life as an object of desire to people you had no desire to captivate: the coexisting dread of catching someone looking at you with hunger, wondering if they’re calculating in their head how much resistance they'd be willing to push through, how much they'd be willing to risk to get their hands on you - alongside a habitual dependence upon being able to slide through any barrier with a well-timed smile and a well-chosen perfume. The endless longing for the world to ignore your exterior and see a value in you that is more than skin deep, and yet the impossibility of being able to untangle your own self-worth from the crutch of your looks. The strange addiction of beauty, of resenting it and all the unwanted side-effects it brings to you and the people around you, and yet being too intoxicated by the sight of your own face in the mirror to ever give it up. I held Marion's gaze, and in each other we saw someone who knew that depressingly shallow truth: beauty is power, and like any power, it is as dangerous as it is irresistible, and it most commonly falls to those who can do the least good with it. 

I told her why I'd said burn instead of break, and she grinned as though I'd given her the most delightful gift. I know the feeling: it is far more enjoyable to watch the chequered romances of others than it is to be in the ring yourself.

Snippet 3: an open conversation about demisexuality, the most on-the-nose acknowledgement of it but also probably the least likely to make it into the final cut bc I think it's a little TOO on the nose as it currently is:

“Life certainly can be stranger than fiction,” I said with a smile. “I must admit that if someone had come back in time and told me on the day we first met that this is where we would be a year later, I might have struggled to believe them.”

“I certainly would not have,” Caleb agreed. “Not that I would have been surprised at my own feelings, of course, but surprised at my luck. I daresay you’d have been equally surprised on both counts. I don’t believe your eye was on me as mine was on you, on day one.”

“Don’t take it personally,” I said, not feeling inclined to lie, “but I’m afraid that’s not really how my brain works. I have never seen a stranger and felt that kind of attraction to them.”

“Really?” His tone was curious, but not particularly surprised or disbelieving. 

“No. It’s not that I don’t care for appearances or…” I struggled for the word in common, “presence, at all - I can make aesthetic judgements, and once I am attracted to someone, I do find those things attractive, it’s simply that… well, for most people the attraction comes first, and then as you get to know the person you come to truly care for them - for me, the attraction tends to come last. If it comes at all, that is; it is not guaranteed, of course.” 

“Seems convenient,” he said. “You’re never going to find yourself drawn into an impulsive entanglement you regret.”

“It feels less incongruous as I get older,” I allowed, “but you can imagine the animosity in my student days, when everyone wanted my… attention, and I would not give it. And don’t think I’ve never been attracted to someone I wished I wasn’t; to know someone intimately, to be close to someone, is not necessarily the same as liking and respecting them.” 

“Very true.”  

Thanks for reading if you did! This is only my second fic in uhhh over ten years lol, and only my second long(ish) form fic - I hope to post the first chapter this week, if I'm feeling brave!

@cr-aspec-fest

[xx-completely-in-ur-car-xx-blog]

Benny Week Day 5: Cooking (sort of)

The Weirs invite the Morgans over for a Thanksgiving dinner, but they have a hidden agenda.

(Fic under cut)

THANKSGIVING

As surprised as the Morgans had been when Benny invited them all to Thanksgiving dinner on his grandma’s behalf, he was certain they were looking forward to it— mostly because Ethan had shared, on several occasions, that Ross and Sam had felt a little more distant from the neighbors lately. It wasn’t personal, of course, but with all the magic stuff littered around the house these days, the Weirs had agreed to keep uninitiated guests at a distance. Hurriedly tucking yet another potentially dangerous item away from prying eyes, Benny had to admit he could see why his grandma had suggested the rule; she was going to seriously punish him if he left any wizard stuff lying around when they got here. If she caught him on it.

It wasn’t until he’d given the whole house a thorough check— a mere half an hour before guests were due to arrive, and a decidedly unimpressive… but not altogether unexpected… three hours behind schedule— that he felt confident enough in his muggle-proofing to take over kitchen duties. At which point, he solemnly shuffled towards the center of the room, eyes firmly avoiding any contact as he shifted his weight from side to side, unceremoniously announcing his arrival with an uncomfortably loud sniffle.

“Took you long enough,” his grandma chastised, arms folded and eyes boring through him. It was like she could somehow smell his guilt. Again. Instantly, the icy resolve he’d had to avoid her gaze melted into the heat of the room, forcing his eyes to meet hers in an unspoken apology. She was right, and he should’ve started cleaning earlier.

Almost as if she could hear the admission, Evelyn softened, a spark of knowing excitement lighting up her smile— a testament to her, fortunately, good mood. Still, Benny couldn’t help but smile back, grievances forgotten as he basked in the enchanting yellow firelight, the warming smell of fresh herbs and autumnal spices forming clouds above the myriad dishes that topped the various surfaces.

In many ways, Benny doubted that she really needed his help at all. Even with her attention diverted entirely elsewhere, dishes continued to stir themselves as they thickened under the enchanted flames. Overhead, assorted ingredients danced through the sky, pivoting and pirouetting before they flew themselves into their respective pots. Benny couldn’t help but look begrudgingly impressed at the display; she was just showing off.

There was no way he was going to be able to keep all this up. “And you’re sure you still want me to take over in here?” He asked, earning a mischievous grin in response.

“I seem to remember someone being very enthusiastic about the idea of magical flames,” she taunted, mock-innocently.

Benny rolled his eyes, repeating the same defense he’d made at the time, “Technically, it was Ethan’s idea.” Technically, it was— he’d asked Benny whether he thought he could still throw a fireball— it only made sense to put it to the test. “And Rory’s a vampire— his hair’ll probably grow back in no time!” Somehow, even with his toothiest grin, he didn’t feel like she was buying it. “…probably?”

Evelyn was still staring him down with a questioning look as he felt an animated spatula slap him on the head. Fair enough— he probably deserved that. “Well, as much as you proved your immaturity,” she asserted, punctuating the word with another light slap of the spatula as she pointedly ignored Benny’s weak cries of protest, “You’ve also managed to prove your competency."

At this, Benny stopped rubbing his head, tilting it up as if to ask a question. Surely she didn’t expect him to keep all this up— particularly with Ethan’s magically unaware parents coming over… Unless that was his challenge. Animating objects, controlling the flames, and keeping everything invisible. It’d take a lot of skill but, then again, “Alright, well,” he began, clapping his hands before rubbing them together, “I’ve never tried to dominate a kitchen spoon before, but I’m sure it’s—” The spatula came down on his head again —“ow.”

“I’m not asking for your help with all this, Einstein,” she said, gesturing towards the spectacle of the room. As she did so, the utensils began to drift towards the sink, falling lifeless as the flames died down. Good riddance to the spatula. “This, is all finished.” She rolled her eyes at him, “And we can’t have Ethan and Jane’s lovely parents walking in on some grand exhibition, can we.”

“Buh—” uttered Benny cluelessly, pointing in agreement before he could find the words, “That’s what I thought!”

Evelyn nodded, “You,” she ordered, grabbing a clean pot from the cupboard, “Are making the Morgan family a lovely draught of warding potion.”

Before Benny could protest, she was handing him a recipe book and herding him towards the kitchen counter. She was halfway out the door before Benny’s brain caught up. Thrilled as he was to be trusted with something of magical significance, he couldn’t help but be suspicious of the sudden leap of faith. “You’re trusting me to dose the Morgans with a first-time potion?” There had to be some sort of catch.

Evelyn sighed, “Oh, they’ll be fine— worse you can do is make them speak backwards for a day or so,” Benny raised a questioning eyebrow, “But, if you can make magical fire, then you can brew a potion of warding. Goodness knows that family needs it!”

That, Benny had to concede— somehow, all four of his neighbors had been caught up in his and Ethan’s supernatural exploits... Although, if he was keeping score, they’d hired the vampire babysitter first. Any way he looked at it, those people needed his help. And, besides, he was getting better at magic. Maybe there was no catch— maybe his grandma trusted him to do something important for once. Maybe, he thought, as he began to add ingredients to his brew, it was time for the Magic Man to be the hero of the hour.

The thought was still on his mind as the doorbell rang twenty minutes later, muffled voices drifting through to signify the new arrivals— and just in time! Extinguishing the enchanted flames with a flick of his hand, Benny gave the brew a final stir, nodding to himself with pride a little. This potion could be his new best work— it was so cool! He was so cool! Deep within the cauldron of swirling burgundy liquid, he could see the sparks of purplish arcane energy fizzling, crackling with their magical potency. Just looking at it, he could feel the calming wave of its abjurative effects washing over him. Oh, he was so saving Ethan’s family. Benny was the greatest, he… The train of thought was interrupted by the sound of familiar footsteps entering the room.

Before Benny had a chance to look up and greet the newcomer to the kitchen, however, he found himself rudely cut off by an accusatory question, “What’s that smell?”

Benny paused for a moment, unsure if the comment was even intended for him. Clearly not— his contribution to the dinner preparations was going awesomely. And yet, if Ethan’s tone didn’t betray the way he felt, his face certainly did— a single eye twitching incredulously as he stared down his nose at the source of his bemusement: the large metal pot on the stove. Benny’s eyes flicked back to the pot, giving everything a quick once-over to confirm that he really had done everything correctly, before darting back to Ethan. A double take confirmed his apparent disdain. More than anything, he felt a little insulted.

Words had yet to leave his open mouth, however, when his grandma spoke, drawing his attention to the rest of the Morgan clan, who were smiling at him from the corridor. “That, is a special family recipe that Benny wanted to make for you all,” she lied warmly, catching Benny off-guard for a moment, “He’s been begging for weeks to make something for you today, so I thought we could all try it before the dinner, just to make sure everyone gets to try before anyone gets too full.”

“Is that right, huh,” Ross asked, seemingly impressed.

Benny, suddenly aware of his gaping mouth, closed and opened it again before answering, suddenly catching onto his grandma’s strategy, “I, uh,” he started, “Yeah!” He hoped the false confidence would carry him though the lie, “I love to cook.”

“You could teach a thing or two to Ethan,” joked Sam, earning a mixture of awkward and earnest laughter from the party as they filed into the room.

By the time everyone was gathered around the pot, however, the laughter had died down entirely, with Ethan’s parents trying and failing miserably to hide the twist of confusion and disgust in their features. Them too? Jane was visibly gaging.

“That’s an, uh… interesting aroma,” offered Ross, earning him a look from Sam. Benny couldn’t help feeling a little rejected by the group reaction, noting— pointedly— that his grandma didn’t even look in his direction as she distributed mugs of the ‘family recipe’ throughout the room. When Ethan caught his eye to figure out what was going on, all he could give was a defeated look. Jane was still visibly gaging.

Sam, to her credit, looked like she was trying her best to act pleased with the situation— a slightly comedic role reversal that Benny could see, from the slight creases at Ethan’s mouth, he wasn’t the only one to find the humor in. “What, um,” she added, exhaling hard through her nose before continuing, “What do you call this?”

“Eeuuhh...ahhh—” Benny was once again caught off guard, “I—”

“This,” Evelyn replied happily, “Is our Thanksgiving tea.” She, at least, didn’t seem affected by the smell. Then again, Benny wondered, testing his own nostrils, maybe they were smelling it differently. “It’s meant to celebrate good health and fortune.” With that, she lifted her cup in a toast, inviting everyone to do the same. Benny chuckled a little at the sight of Samantha coaxing Jane into cooperation. “I am thankful to have you all join us in our family tradition this day.”

And, with that guilt-inducing speech, she downed her drink, followed closely by everyone else. That woman really could get anyone to do anything.

In fact, even after the rest of the dinner party— an awesome celebration with loads of incredible food and cool, stupid party games with Ethan— Benny couldn’t help but let his mind wonder to the evening’s awkward start as he practiced getting the dishes to wash themselves. So much for his best work. “Thanks for trusting me with the potion thing,” he said earnestly, trying not to divert too much attention from a spinning dish. “And I’m sorry if I messed up on the smell of it a little.” In the grand scheme of things, he wanted her to know that he was sorry for a whole lot more things. He paused for a moment, allowing his power on the dishes to dissipate for a second as he turned to face the woman who raised him. “I’m thankful for you, Grandma.”

He didn’t say it often enough, but it was true— Evelyn was always there for him where it counted, and that didn’t just mean when it came time to pull him out of his own supernatural messes. Of course, his was thankful for that too, but it was moments like this— casual moments of domestic magic— or moments without magic at all— moments all throughout his life where she’d picked him up, or packed his lunches. There weren’t really any words that he knew of— not in English or in Latin— that described how thankful he was to have her.

And— even though he hadn’t said all that— as the moment drew on, and she pulled him into a hug, it was, once again, almost as if she’d heard. “I’m thankful for you too, Benny,” she replied, pulling him down to give him a kiss on the forehead the way she had long before he’d grown to where he was now.

When the moment was over, Benny couldn’t help but feel like the little kid who’d once looked to the stars to find the magic that had been under his nose the whole time. He smiled shyly as he returned to the dishes.

“And, for the record,” Evelyn added, “You didn’t make any mistakes with the potion.”

Benny furrowed his brow, “But the side effects—”

“Warding potions notoriously smell terrible,” She explained, “That’s why I wanted the neighbors to think it was something you’d made especially for them— figured they might just feel bad enough to try it.”

Opening and closing his mouth on repeat until he found the words he wanted to say, Benny pointed back and forth between the two of them and various points in the kitchen. Clever Grandma. “You—” he started, equal parts frustrated and excited. In many ways, she’d set him up to fail. But, on the other hand, “I made an advanced potion with no bad side effects?”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, “And I told you that you could do it.” Hearing the pride that colored her tone drained the last of his protestation in an instant.

“So you do believe in me?” It was a challenge, inviting her to say something that he could really show off to Ethan and Sarah about.

“I believe you’re getting better,” she replied diplomatically.

“…but you totally think I’m gonna be the greatest Spellmaster ever someday, right?” He goaded, ribbing her a little.

She looked him up and down with a stern gaze— half comical and half serious— that told him there was an element of sincerity to her coming answer, “I think that, if you do as you’re told, and you look after your friends,” She poked him back a little, “Keep saving the world.” Benny laughed. “I think the elements themselves should watch out for you, Benny.” He could hear a slight catch in her voice with those words— a rare crack of an emotion that he couldn’t quite determine. “You, are a force of nature.”

Still uncertain as to the sudden gravitas of the conversation, Benny gave a mock eyeroll, “…but only ‘cause I have you to guide me, right?” She smiled sadly, still seemingly captivated by that same emotion. Nonetheless, Benny smiled back. This time, it was his turn to put a hand on her shoulders. He had her to guide him, and he was thankful for that.

[infinite-criseas]

Remus stared blankly across the pages of his book. He had read the same passage a couple times, not actually comprehending anything. His mind was stuck on the same question that had been perplexing him all morning. “Why didn’t he invite me?”

….

Earlier that day, Remus was enjoying breakfast while reading about his latest fascination - high wizard society and its history. A subject which his boyfriend Sirius seemed to have infinite knowledge about, albeit not learned willingly. James ran in, sweaty after quidditch practice.

“Moony!! Want to find tuxes together this afternoon?”

“What for?” Remus replied, confused.

“The Black family gala of course!” James replied, “my parents might also have some extra suits we can try on, they might look a bit dated but I’m sure you can make dated work considering u dress like an old geezer already” James said jokingly

“I- I don’t think I’m going” Remus replied, suddenly embarrassed of himself. Sirius never said anything about a gala. Why wouldn’t he want him there? Many reasons came to mind, but he avoided thinking about them as to not spiral immediately.

“WHAT?! You have to come Mooony, Sirius will be devastated! And the whole gang is coming… Peter, Marlene, Lily, Dorcas…” James whined.

“No- I- Sirius didn’t invite me.” Remus said quickly, slammed his book shut, and ran out into the hall, leaving behind a stunned James. Remus kept running, as the spiraling thoughts began to set in. Was his boyfriend embarrassed of him? Did Sirius not want to invite a werewolf to his family? After all who would want a violent beast at such a royal event? Or was it because he wasn’t a pureblood? Did Sirius even love him as much as he thought? Tears welling up in his eyes, Remus ran into the woods.

…

Meanwhile Sirius walked into the common room, flowers in hand, excitedly searching for Remus.

Two nights ago, Remus showed him some muggle movie- the name he can’t remember- but there was a cute scene where the guy extravagantly asks the girl to be his date to the dance. Remus explained to him that muggles from across the pond had a dance in their upper levels called “PROM” and they’d ask their dates in very elaborate “prom-posals”. Sirius fell in love with the idea.

When he found out about his family’s gala, he decided to ask Remus to be his date with a “prom-posal” of his own. He consorted with Lily to get learn a spell to write out “Be my date to the gala?” in the air. James of course helped him practice the spell during which they cause a couple small fires (none deadly). And he got Peter to help him find these absolutely beautiful golden flowers, which matched the glisten in Remus’s eyes.

Sirius looked for Remus, only to find the room empty. James ran through the entrance, completely out of breath, “oh Merlin, I’ve been looking for you Pads. I’m an idiot, I accidentally told Moony about the gala and now he thinks you don’t want him there. The map says he’s somewhere in the forest” James blurted out, gasping for breath at the end, “I’m so sorry for ruining the surprise Pads”

Anger. Confusion. Reassignment. “Ah its ok Prongs we all know you’re lips are as loose as your arsehole” Sirius joked, patting James across the chest as he ran off to find Moony, once again leaving a stunned James Potter behind.

Sirius found moony under a tree, open book in his hand, tear stains streaking his face. “Oh Moony, babe” Sirius puts down the flowers and runs his arm around Remus, embracing him. Remus instinctively buries his face into his boyfriend shoulder. Sirius rubbed his hand across Remus’ back comforting him.

“I didn’t invite you to the gala because I wanted to surprise you with a promposal”

Remus looked up innocently “like the movie we watched?” He whispered softly in surprise.

“Exactly, my love” Sirius cast the spell, which began to write out “Be my date to the gala?” in sparks of colorful flames across the air. He picked the flowers off the ground next to him and gently offered them to his boyfriend who was once again in tears. Remus started giggling through the tears.

“It’s beautiful, Pads” he sniffled “I love you” Remus clasped Sirius’ face in his hands and brought their lips crashing together. The flowers fell to the floor again, as their kisses deepened each pulling the other one closer.

“So will you?” Sirius asked when the finally pulled apart for air.

“Will I what?” Remus asked

“Be my date to my cursed family’s stupid gala?” Sirius laughed

“I couldn’t possibly say no”

[goatchulu]

jealous! lucifer x gender neutral! reader

Genre: fluff, ig? slight smut in the end.

Fandom: obey me!

Prompt: you find yourself in a fake relationship, and now you're introducing your "boyfriend" to the demom brothers. they don't take it so well, especially lucifer.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of harassment and stalking, they make out in the end, reader's gender is unmentioned for your imagination (and inclusion).

lucifer takes another swig of his whisky, a slight burning sensation lingering on his throat. no matter the amount of alcohol he consumed that night, he couldn't escape the bitter feeling that was left inside his chest.

the two of you have been hitting it off pretty well for the past few weeks, if he could say so himself. the harmless complimenting and the subtle glancing had turned into ardent flirting and shows of affection overtime. you two were finally going somewhere with your mutual pinning, or so he thought.

lucifer didn't think his small (not so small) crush on you would lead anywhere, really. nor did he think you would reciprocate his infatuation. but with all the friendly interactions you had of late, anyone would assume you two were together in a romantic light.

now look, lucifer prides himself as a person. he was assertive, efficient, productive, level-headed and the voice of reason when stress is most prominent. but as a lover? lucifer wasn't so sure. he assumed you'd like someone more jolly and eccentric like mammon or someone more confident and charismatic like asmodeus. he didn't expect for you to even spare him a second glance when it came to the dating game. lucifer was a busy man after all, and he wasn't the most expressive when it came to emotions; not very ideal for a lover.

but what lucifer also did not expect was for you to bring home a common demon boy and introduce him as your significant other.

let's just say that all the built up tension and courting were all ruined by a single dinner party.

you had gathered all the demon brothers earlier that morning, claiming you had an important announcement to make. you went as far as inviting diavolo and his loyal butler, barbatos, to spend the evening over for dinner. they thanked you for the invitation, but they unfortunately, could not attend because of their hectic schedules.

lucifer, on the other hand, was more than happy to accept your invitation (though he was quick to cover up the smile he held when you came up to him). seeing as he already lives under the same roof as you, anways. his happiness would soon be diminished and grinded into dirty, pathetic, dust, though.

lucifer's eyes narrow as mammon's loud laughter bounces off the walls of the dining room. lucienne, your "boyfriend", had managed to crack the demon up with one of his silly stories about a strange elderly wizard that sold expensive medication made out of fairy wings that turned out to just be bedazzled dragon fly wings. he worked wonders with the avatar of greed, considering the fact that just a moment ago, mammon was cursing in jealousy and resentment as you sat with your newly introduced boyfriend.

luficer would've told mammon to shut up, but he feared saying something far more vulgar out of anger. the previous tension was already eased into a more domesticated athmosphere (credits to lucienne's charm and humor), lucifer didn't want to ruin dinner for his brothers, and especially not for you.

i mean, lucifer felt betrayed, he felt used and-- and played. how could you lead him on like this? but deep inside, he knew there was something else. he felt disappointed, he felt defeated, he felt crushed, he wished he'd done something sooner before this lucienne stole you away from him.

but anyways, back to the dinner party.

"you seem unusually quiet, lucy." asmo teases from across lucifer's seat. the phrase seems to capture everyone's attention, all eyes now on the grimacing and glaring lucifer.

"asmo's right, you haven't uttered a word since lucienne arrived, lucifer. is something wrong?" you chime in, causing lucifer to perk up. the thought of you worrying about his state sent sparks into his heart, but they were quick to disappear when lucienne asks him the same question.

"i'm fine." he replies to your concern, unable to hide the venom that strung on to his words. this only causes asmodeus to snicker, and leviathan to sink deeper into his seat. everyone else watches in concern as lucifer downs another glass of demom whiskey. you're about to ask him again, unsure about his reply, but he stops you before you could even form a word.

"i said i'm fine."

the air is tense, until eventually, mammon gasps out of nowhere. "don't tell me! lucifer is jealous!!~" he repeats in a sing song manner, only irking lucifer even further. no one else speaks up, the whole situation akward enough.

after a while, though, lucienne speaks up. he gestures at mammon, especially. hoping to stop the demon from escalating the situation. "hey mammon, wanna hear about that one time i accidentally professed my love for my eight grade math teacher?" mammon only settles back into his seat, ready for another laughing fit. the avatar of pride snaps at this, slamming his fists down the table before abruptly excusing himself with a "i have something to do."

he spares you one last glance. his heart aching with guilt from the way you had lowered your head in shame. lucifer didn't want to make you feel like he owned you, or that you weren't allowed to be with someone else... he just, he has enough reason to justify his anger right now and he really wants to dwell in it. he turns his head away from you, biting his lip to contain the guilt and pain that was threatening to seep out. he doesn't turn to look back as he walks away from the dining room in long and rushed strides.

lucifer walks down the dark hallways of lamentation, familiar with every nook and cranny the mansion had. he sighs in relief as his palm reaches out for a familiar door. it creaks as lucifer walks into his room, sounding just as glum as lucifer is.

he heads straight to his paperwork, silently hoping that they would provide him some sort of comfort. he tries to focus on anything but the thought of you or your unavailability, his mind barely processing any of the words that were printed out in front of him. he groans, his hands pulling on his jet black hair in frustration.

i mean, he should've expected this. lucienne was everything lucifer thought you would love. funny outgoing, caring, expressive, charismatic, a smooth talker and he looked at you with utmost respect and admiration. i mean, who in their right mind would choose old-schooled lucifer over the flawless lucienne?

you deserve lucienne and although lucifer thinks that no one in the three realms could ever deserve to call you theirs, he still thinks that lucienne is more deserving of you than lucifer could ever be. what were you doing to the poor demon? he was never one to admit defeat like this, and he especially wasn't the type of person that'd lower themself like this.

his rollercoaster of thoughts are interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. his ears already familiar with this particular knocking pattern. he can't help but straighten himself up, suddenly aware of the way his hair is all sprawled out. he slicks it down with saliva, muttering a small "enter" soon after he finshes checking on his appearance.

his mood lightens just a little bit at the sight of your face. as much as lucifer wants to hate you right now, he couldn't possibly feel that way towards you. never, not in a quadrillion light years.

you sit down in front of him, a genuine look of concern on your face. this makes lucifer visibly frown, catching you a bit off guard. "i wanted to talk to you about something, lucifer." his eyes grow curious and a bit hopeful, wishing it were about something that would distract him from the current situation or give him even the tiniest bit of closure.

"it's about lucienne." and once again, you manage to crush all his hope with only a few words. lucifer swears that if he hears that name one more time, he would personally shove your lovely boyfriend down the deepest depths of the underworld.

you watch his brows furrow and his fist tighten on his quill. lucifer looks far from happy to hear you talk about your significant other right now. "look, i know you'd rather not hear about lucienne again, but it's really really important and i want you to just hear me out. just this once, please?"

lucifer couldn't stand the pleading look you were giving him. your puppy eyes were a weapon that you used on him often, and they always managed to work. a tired sigh leaves his lips, if it meant getting it over with then he'd listen. "fine," he snaps, not before rubbing at his temple in obvious distress. he's said fine, but his body language told you otherwise.

"someone's kind of harassing lucienne at the moment. stalking him, giving him unwanted gifts and constantly professing their love for him when he's told them multiple times that it made him uncomfortable. they're an admirer of some sorts. i'm posing as lucienne's lover in hopes that they'd back off for a while, but i wanted to see if you and diavolo could do some actual help. it's worrisome, really. and it's been stressing lucienne out for the past couple of weeks. pretending to be his significant other is the most i can do for him, i hope you understand."

lucifer only freezes in shock, guilt washing over him all so suddenly. you call out for him, effectively snapping him out of his short daze. of course you'd offer to help lucienne out, you've always been a kind person. in lucifer's eyes, atleast. he coughs into his hand, avoiding eye contact with you as he degrades himself for his previous selfishness.

"of course, i'll do my best to make sure this harasser is punished. the school and i will ensure that lucienne won't be seeing this stalker anytime soon. just keep supporting him like this, i suppose. tell him he can sleep here for the night. thank you for informing me about this." you smile at lucifer's response, relief overwhelming your senses. if this meant that lucienne was finally going to be safe and unbothered, you were overjoyed.

you jump at lucifer, thanking him, all the while, squeezing the life out of him. his heart races impossibly fast at the gesture, and you can't help but smirk at the red that tainted his cheeks. "just so you know, i still like you. and only you, lucy."

his breath comes to a halt. he was no longer able to contain the butterflies that crowded his stomach; shock and well, pure bliss apparent on his face. "does this mean i can kiss you?"

"do anything as you please."

lucifer lunges at you. capturing your lips into a hungry and impatient kiss. his hands roam all over your torso, looking for anything he could hold onto. he settles for your waist and you drape your hands over his shoulders. heaven knows how long he's been waiting for this moment.

he manages to stumble through his room, leading you two to his bed. you part as he pushes you down to sit at the end of his king sized bed. he grins at the sight of you, disheveled and thirsty for more. the avatar of pride couldn't help but be excited for the faces you'll make in the unholy endeavors he's planning for you. he'll devour you, tear apart every innocent limb you have in your body. his imagination runs wild as he thinks of the many ways he'd mark you as his, exhibit you to the world and spread you wide open for his contenders to see. for them to know just how pathetic and needy lucifer could make you in an instant.

he bends down to kiss you again, pushing against your tounge with his own. he squeezes your thighs, digging his nails deep into the skin under the cloth still covering you. groans and grunts leave your lips as he countinues to caress your plush thighs.

as you two part, panting, a newfound possessiveness overtakes lucifer's eyes.

"you're mine."

[wispstalk]

I'd love to know more about The Wizard Adderall

Thank you for asking because he is stealing the show in my mind lately. I wrote a piece introducing him that I think touches on What His Deal Is, but this is a very rough early draft and not a final product

Of all the things Gil expected to learn on his journey north, “how to walk” was not among them.

Abi, his traveling companion, has apparently mastered new heights in the art of getting from one place to another. Tall and sturdy and broad-backed, yet she moves through the woods without making a sound. The fox-walk, she calls it. And as they pick their careful way through the wild edges of Skyrim, she insists he do the same.

Outside the lush enclave of the Celecire estate, he is learning strange new depths to all sorts of basic things. Walking, but silent and hyper-aware. Eating, mechanically and often. She even lights their campfires with a flint and steel, which seems somehow more arcane than a spell. He tried it once and scraped his knuckles raw on the striker.

His companion can cast a spark from her fingers as well as he can, and heal a scrape or a bruise, but she said her parents were from Hammerfell, and taught her not to bank her survival on fickle magicks. Gil has not managed to wheedle much more from her. Abi is spare with her words and artful with her deflections, answering questions with questions. She seems content to give Gil an opportunity to discuss his favorite topic: himself.

“And so,” he concludes as they walk, “that’s when the beast awoke from its long slumber and finally flicked off the tick. I’ve enough in my purse for tuition and passage by ship to Winterhold, which I suppose was a small price to pay to be rid of their most feckless son.”

“Poor you,” she says, smiling catlike. “You mean to tell me you could have taken a ship? With a private cabin, no doubt.”

“Poor me,” he agrees. “Feckless I might be, but I know my arithmetic. If this is the last I’ll squeeze out of them, I thought it wise to go to Cyrodiil and cross on foot. I have two of them, after all, how hard can it be?”

Abi lets out a soft, good-natured chuckle; it’s the third time in a week he’s gotten a laugh out of his guide and he is inordinately pleased with himself. But then: “Speaking of feet, mind yours.”

“Ah…” He sighs and resumes his stilted fox-walk. “Well, I only thought… we’re making plenty of noise.”

“Practice now for the times when we shouldn’t.”

Gil winces. Yesterday, his bumbling loud footfalls had flushed out the ptarmigan in Abi’s sights. Fresh off the glacial wasteland of the Pale Pass, it would have been their first warm meal in days. She had calmly replaced the arrow in her quiver and led them on, and not an hour later she shot a rabbit.

She seemed pleasantly surprised, he recalls with grim satisfaction, when he proved himself perfectly capable of skinning and gutting it.

That aside, he is certain his corpse would litter the Pale Pass if he had not met her in that Bruma outfitter’s shop. Couldn’t even count on a daring death by misadventure; more likely he would fall under the weight of an overloaded pack and flail like an upturned beetle until the cold claimed him. Death comes for everyone, he knows, but he can still hope that his own won’t be too humiliating.

They stop at a fork in the road to drink deeply from their waterskins, and Abi crouches beneath the shade of a pine to examine her map. The side trail, she explains, ought to speed their progress down the mountain’s back, if Gil can bear a little bushwhacking.

She stands with her chin tilted, surveying the landscape, extracting meaning before Gil’s mind can parse it as more than a morass of dun and green. But there is a symmetry that draws the eye. Long, low hummocks line the path, like prostrate supplicants to the majestic boulder that looms ahead.

“Oh, they’re barrows!” Gil squints at the boulder, where some remnants of a carved arch can be seen beneath the beard of lichen. Maybe he can convince her to stop and take their midday meal here— he’d like to dig out his charcoal and parchment and take a rubbing.

Abi grimaces. “I hadn’t intended to lead us through a graveyard.”

Ah, he thinks, so much for stopping. “It’s an old land,” he assures her. “Everywhere we walk we are flanked by the dead.”

She blinks at that, but carries on. In the silence Gil hears his footfalls crunching in the pinestraw and adjusts. Heel to the ground, roll to the outside, carefully place the toes. It’s a good trick on her part: making him so absorbed in his footfalls he doesn’t notice how they accumulate.

After a time he is gliding along in a breezy and confident rhythm, sure he’ll be soon be walking Skyrim’s forests with a wolfish grace that rivals that of his guide, until he runs blindly into her outstretched arm.

She stands stock still, watching something in the dappled underbrush with sudden sharp alertness. One hand reaches smoothly back to draw an arrow from her quiver. Gil arrests the breath in his lungs, and his heart pounds in the hopes of a nice fat greasy bird for dinner.

Her unwavering gaze narrows, then widens. She whispers, “Gil, run.”

“No,” he says, half to himself, watching the frost troll burst from the underbrush with a hoot of rage, “no, I think I’d better not.”

Quick despite its odd loping gait, the troll bears down on them. It’s crossed half the distance by the time she nocks her arrow. Gil sets his jaw and taps his staff firmly to the ground.

Shadows waver through the veil all around him. Impressions of lives lived and lost. There is something resting in the bowels of this mountain that even he won’t trifle with, but plenty of garden-variety warrior sorts to choose from. The binding that he speaks is swallowed by a crash, a shower of dust and rock and sod, as the withered corpse bursts from the barrow.

At once, it hurls itself snarling at the troll. Abi wheels backward with a yelp, collides with Gil. He spares enough of his awareness to steady her with his free hand.

He was lucky to raise one buried with a sword. The thrall itself is fragile and dry as a paper wasp’s nest. The troll takes one of its arms out with one clean swipe. Gil bears down with his will, holding images in his mind of that rusty old sword restored to its former beauty, of glorious battle, of Sovngarde and other such Nordly things that might call upon the shade of its former life and inspire it to greater fury.

The thrall plunges its sword into the troll’s belly with a rattling cry. As the creature falls, it stands inert, waiting for its next command, staring out at nothing through empty sockets. Gil unfurls the white-knuckled hand around his staff and releases it back to its rest.

Silence. Abi is no longer clutching his arm. Her eyes, wide as saucers, track the corpse as it shambles to the destroyed barrow.

“You just.” She does not meet his eye. “You’re a.”

“It’s— well. I used to explore ruins in the Isles.” He twirls his hand in a gesture of weak apology. “And I’ve never liked fighting.”

“I see.” She straightens, adjusts the strap of her rucksack, and turns on her heel to continue down the path.

Gil’s heart sinks. He likes Abi. It cheered him to think he might have a friend to visit in Solitude, once she settles into her smithing work there. He’d hoped their meeting was a sign that he hadn’t done a very stupid thing in leaving; planned to make up for his ineptitude in Falkreath, where his gold will spend.

He got what he wanted, he thinks sourly: he finally made himself useful, and in doing so, lost his only friend in the province.

“I apologize,” he says, for what must be the hundredth blunder on this journey. “I might have warned you. It’s a rather… delicate…”

“I’m glad to be alive, Gil, and that’s that.” She pauses and allows him to catch up. “You are well-mannered, for a necromancer.”

He gives her a watery grin, and then deflates with a shiver. The chill of the grave presses close to him. It will for hours yet.

Speaking the bindings burns his throat like spiced metheglin and leaves the taste of decay on his tongue. This death opens with bitter notes of copper and cold, giving way to a soft finish that lingers on the palate. A burst of blood leaching into the snow and then a gentle, muffled descent into the dark.

He suppresses a gag and spits the foul flavor to the ground, scuffing it into the leaves with the toe of his boot.

“Eugh. Sorry.” He fishes into his coat for a handkerchief to dab his mouth.

Abi regards him with a dubious wrinkle to her nose. She turns her head and spits in answer; a projectile glob lands among the duff with a percussive splat.

A delighted grin splits Gil’s face. “Godsblood! That was magnificent. How can you spit so far?”

“One thing at a time,” she says, and turns back to the road. “Master your fox-walk, and next I’ll teach you proper spitting.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 30: Likeness

Draco Malfoy had spent his entire life being shaped and molded into the image and likeness of Lucius Malfoy.

It had always been assumed that he would go into politics, that he would settle down with a nice pureblood girl and have a child. His life had always been laid out before him like it had already happened.

But the summer Draco turned 18 he left. He left his family, left his friends, left the wizarding world all together. Draco cut his hair short on the sides and let the top grow out and then he dyed it pink.

He got a muggle tattoo; bright, beautiful flowers to cover up the dark mark: new life conquering death.

And he got a job dancing at a strip club. He was good at it, he had the body for it, for the corsets and the tiny panties, for the heels that made his legs look miles long. The muggle glitter made his pale, muscular body shimmer under the lights. He had the face for it, his eyes mysterious and otherworldly enough that the make-up only enhanced it.

He was a very popular act and Draco enjoyed the whole affair. He enjoyed people watching him, desiring him. It wasn't a forever career but it served him well.

It continued to serve him well for four whole years, before one night when the lights came up and he strut out onto the stage, rolling his hips and letting his hands caress his body, and just as he was reaching for the pole his eyes snagged on a pair of eyes he would have recognized anywhere.

It felt like eternity passed in the beat of the song he missed as he found Harry Potter staring back at him from the audience. A jolt of something electric skittered down his spine and Draco forced himself to look away and start dancing.

(Read more below the cut)

He hooked his leg around the pole and began his routine, falling into the familiar motions, spinning, and rolling, and flipping, using every ounce of strength and control he possessed.

And he very intentionally did not allow his eyes to stray to Potter.

Even without looking, though, he knew that he had the other man's undivided attention. It had been so long since he'd felt the heat of Potter's gaze on him that he'd almost forgotten what it was like to be the center of his attention.

At the very end, as he was collecting the notes that had been thrown at him, he allowed himself one more look.

Potter had grown up. He'd grown taller and his body had filled out, it was almost hard to believe that he was the same boy who'd come to Hogwarts looking malnourished, weak, and filthy to fight the most dangerous wizard to ever live. His hair had grown out, too, it was pulled back into a messy bun, and he'd grown in a beard that he kept trimmed neatly.

He had the sudden urge to feel the scrape of his beard on all of the sensitive places on his body, to sink his fingers into Potter's curls as his mouth tasted Draco's skin.

He made eye contact, and his arousal spiked at the look of sheer want in the other man's eyes. In that moment, Draco felt like the most powerful man in the entire world.

The man sitting next to Potter, a muggle that Draco didn't recognize, punched him in the shoulder and the moment dissipated like smoke.

With a quick shake of the head, he finished collecting his money and disappeared back stage without looking at him again.

That night he wondered what would come of Potter seeing him, wondered if he'd find reporters from the Prophet at the show the next night, worried that his world was crashing down around him.

But he couldn't seem to stop wondering if he might see Potter again.

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

Potter returned the next night, and the next, and the next, and so on for the following month.

Every time Draco stepped onto the stage, Potter was there in the crowd watching. And he found himself watching Potter more and more, until one night he spent nearly his entire scene watching the other man, he might as well have used Potter as a spot to keep himself from getting dizzy.

It was that night that he decided enough was enough. He had to find out why Potter was here and what he wanted. After his performance he changed quickly, pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He slipped into a pair of trainers and headed out of his dressing room and toward the door that led into the club.

Potter was no where to be seen when he came in so he went outside and saw him walking down the sidewalk. "Potter!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

The other man froze before turning slowly to look at him.

Draco jogged to catch up to him but found that he wasn't quite sure what to say once he was standing in front of him.

"Uh," the other man said inelegantly, rubbing the back of his neck, "Hey."

"Hey?" Draco spluttered incredulously. "You show up to every single one of my performances for the past month and that is all you have to say? Hey?"

"You're very talented," Potter offered.

"Yes," he replied.

Potter snorted, "Humble as ever, I see."

"Why should I be humble? I am talented," he said, tilting his chin up defiantly. "I've worked hard to get where I am."

"Sorry," Potter said, trying to backpedal, "I didn't-" he shook his head. "I'm not sure what to say to you. I didn't mean to offend you."

"I'm not offended," Draco replied. He crossed his arms, wishing he'd brought a jacket, "Just," he huffed, "tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why you keep coming to watch me dance!"

Potter looked at him for a long moment, "Are you cold?" he asked.

"Yes," he replied, because it was true. Potter started to shrug off his jacket, "You don't have to do th-" but his protest fell on deaf ears as he looped it over Draco's shoulders.

"I've asked myself that very same question a thousand times," Harry replied. "In part, I think it's because so many people just stayed the same. It's why I left the wizarding world for the most part, everyone wanted me to be who I'd always been and I didn't want that anymore. I wanted to be allowed to grow and change. And you've obviously done that, too."

"So, what you felt like we were kindred spirits or something?" he asked.

"Sort of," Potter replied, lazily lifting one shoulder, "But you're just nothing like what I imagined you turn out to be and it made me wonder what else I was wrong about when it came to you."

"And you thought the best way to figure it out was by watching me pole dance?"

Potter laughed and rubbed the back of his neck again, "I don't know. I couldn't figure out what to do," he confessed. "I didn't know how to talk to you."

"Still," Draco said, "there has to be more to it than that."

"You're also bloody gorgeous," Potter added, "when you dance. And I really like watching you."

"Oh?"

He nodded, "I'd wondered a little bit before I saw you again if part of my obsession with you at Hogwarts was actually attraction that I just hadn't understood at the time."

"And?" he asked.

"Well, obviously seeing you again confirmed it." Potter looked down and scuffed his toe on the sidewalk.

In a moment of bravery that he'd never quite be able to understand later, Draco stepped forward, caught Potter's chin and pressed their lips together.

Potter took a surprised gasp, sucking a bit of Draco's air into his mouth before he started to kiss him back. His hands moved to cup Draco's face as he kissed him softly, gently like Draco was something precious, something treasured.

He'd been kissed a lot but he'd never been kissed like this. He'd never been kissed with such single-minded devotion, never been kissed like he was someone instead of something. Potter licked into his mouth, stroking his tongue over Draco's as one of his hands slid down to Draco's waist, drawing him a bit closer.

After a long moment, Potter pulled back first, "We should get off the sidewalk," he said.

"Logical," Draco replied.

"Could I take you to dinner?"

The corner of Draco's mouth tipped up, "I don't usually have dinner with my one night stands."

"Well, maybe I could not be a one night stand?" Potter said. "Not that I'm even remotely opposed to the idea of sex with you, I just can't imagine that one night could ever be enough."

"I might be able to be persuaded."

"Oh?" Potter asked, smiling wide enough that his dimples appeared. "How might I be able to persuade you?"

He smirked, "I'm not entirely sure yet but you're resourceful, you'll figure it out."

"Where would you like to go for dinner?" Potter asked.

"You flat," he replied. "I'm still in my stage make-up and it makes for some funny looks."

"Your make up is gorgeous," Potter protested, "But I'd be very glad for you to come back to my flat."

"Lead on, then," Draco replied, feeling a spark of anticipation.

This was just the first of many nights that Draco came to Harry's flat after the show. He came to his flat so often, in fact, that it eventually became their flat. And Harry had been right all along, one night (or one lifetime, for that matter) could never be enough.

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

You can read Day 107: Charge as a sequel to this ficlet. :)

Day 29: Punch | Day 31: Veritaserum

[lfcology]

are you afraid of the dark? | charlie weasley

summary: Part of a new series where I write about Harry Potter characters helping/reacting to the reader and their fears. This is about Charlie and the reader back at The Burrow for the first time in years. Reader has hid her fear from him but finally has no choice but to talk about how she’s scared of the dark.

pairing: Fem!Reader who is a Dragonologist x Charlie.

word count: 1.6k

warnings: None besides the fear of the dark and mentions of food.

A/N: This is my first fic here! Please Tell me what you think!

*

It seemed foolish – having one of the most feared jobs in the wizarding world yet being afraid of the dark. It was something you hid well, no one ever picked up on the fact that you always had a light on when the sun went down. And, if they ever were to ask a question, you were able to cover it up with a little white lie. It wasn’t something that posed you as a real issue until Charlie Weasley entered your life. You two had been friends during your time at Hogwarts, in the same year and both loving magical creatures. As the years went by you two found yourselves smitten with one another. He, just like you, was enamoured with the scaley, temperamental beasts that were dragons. It took a bit of persuasion from Hagrid (who insisted his two favourite students would make a perfect pair) but Charlie asked you to Hogsmeade and the rest was history. You two got accepted as apprentice dragon trainers in Romania together and after years the spark of infatuation you two felt grew into genuine and strong love.

Your fear of the dark was never a topic that came up. Working with dragons meant being awake during their most active hours – the night. Their fire lit up the darkness of the sanctuary and when you two finally got the time to sleep, it was daytime, the sun provided all the light you needed to have your fear dissipate. The only time, after years of being together, Charlie noticed you acting strangely about the topic was the winter of 1995.

It was the first year you were spending Christmas at The Burrow, having such a hectic work life meant you and Charlie opted to spend most holidays in Romania. Molly trusted the two of you not to have any funny business go on and let you share Charlie's childhood bedroom with him (despite the no girls in the bedrooms rule that was put in place years before). After working the night shift for so long the pair of you welcomed a warm home, comfy bed and a hardy nap with open arms. Molly hated to wake you two up but hours later she came in to let you two know dinner was ready whenever you two wanted it.

"Morning." Charlie joked as he stretched his aching limbs out.

Evening was coming closer and as you looked out the window you saw that the last moments of sunlight for the day were illuminating the bedroom in a golden stream of light. Charlie Weasley looked utterly ethereal from his spot next to you. His tangerine coloured hair rested ever so gently across his forehead from where he'd decided to let it grow out. The constellations of freckles speckled his face almost perfectly despite being so randomly placed – It was as if the sun had personally come and kissed them upon his skin. Photos were pinned around the room showing him both before and during his time at Hogwarts and looking at the man in front of you now your heart swelled. He had grown into such a wonderful human. His jaw filled out and was stronger as if a symbol of the confidence he felt in himself. Charlie had grown up but lost none of the boyish charms he had when you fell in love with him. He donned a couple more scars than when he'd left England all those years before but he still fit into The Burrow like a glove.

He ran a calloused hand through your hair and pressed a kiss to your forehead before sitting up and cracking some of his bones in an attempt to wake up more. You hummed contently and kissed him softly before putting on a signature Weasley sweater (gifted from Molly after only dating Charlie for 2 months).

"Well, looks like Sleeping Beauty and (Y/N) are finally awake." Fred teased from his spot at the kitchen table.

He and George were tinkering with what you assumed was another invention of theirs as Charlie lovingly smacked the back of their heads. You smiled at the brotherly moment before taking a seat and having plates mounted with food placed in front of you just as quickly as you blinked. It was delicious, just what you needed to start a much-needed vacation. The cosiness of The Burrow mixed with a full tummy had you lulled into a sleepy stupor. Charlie continued chatting with his siblings, most of which were home from school for the holidays, as you leaned into his side. Between the couch beneath you two, the muggle Christmas song playing somewhere in the house and him stroking your shoulder: it felt like home.

After a few more stifled yawns from Charlie, Mrs Weasley sent you both back to bed in hopes tomorrow would bring more family time. Coming back to Charlies room felt different. The curtains were still open but with only the waxing crescent moon in the sky to provide light it was eery. You tried to remain calm despite feeling your fear rising in your throat. Charlie was around and surely that would give you enough comfort to fall asleep without a hitch, right? You slipped off your sweater knowing Charlie produced heat like a campfire and slid into bed in hopes of a quick and dreamless sleep. The Burrow, despite how strange it seemed, was silent. You assumed someone had cast a silencing charm on the room for you two to rest peacefully but right now it only fuelled your fear more. You laid motionless for the most part, Charlie snuggled up as usual with his arm around your waist as you stared at the ceiling. You were tense and after a few kisses to your neck from the boy didn't gain your attention he sensed something was off.

"Goodnight my love." He said trying to gauge your reaction before mentioning something.

He pretending to sleep, listening intently to your breathing and analysing the tenseness of your body beneath his arm. You, on the other hand, paid him no attention. How could you when fear clouded your vision more than the darkness itself. You felt as though the room was filled with evil beings and creatures just waiting for their moment to attack. It sent a shrill fear down your spine and your breathing picked up dramatically making Charlie frown and sit up. With the flick of his hand, he wandlessly cast a charm to turn on his bedside lamp.

"Hey..." He muttered softly to get your attention.

Your eyes were wide and glazed over, you were on high alert and even as you looked around the room and saw it was only old Quidditch merchandise around and not monsters you didn't relax. Charlie held your hand ever so gently making your eyes snap down to him where he gave you a calming, reassuring smile. It wasn't a very different look than what he'd give to a wounded animal.

"Hi..." You replied trying to seem normal.

"Are you alright?" He asked as he looked around the room in an attempt to see what had startled you so much.

"Yes, just thinking-" You tried to reassure but he only furrowed his deep brows at you in disbelief. He could easily tell on your face that you not only were lying but something was most definitely worrying you.

"C'mon, tell me, Princess." He said with a frown. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You sighed knowing you couldn't hide your secret much longer. You felt more at ease now that the light was on but as you stared at it you wondered what Charlie would think once he knew your secret. "'S nothing." You shrugged but he once again wasn't having it.

"You're a terrible liar." He teased trying to lighten the mood but when you didn't give him so much as a smile, he knew it was serious. Sitting up straighter and clearing his throat he held both your hands in his larger ones. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" He asked as you bit your lip and ducked your head in shame.

His head followed yours and he tried to meet your eyes again which made you smile slightly as he resembled a child wanting answers. "I'm afraid of the dark." You finally muttered.

He tried to hide his shock but couldn't help but let out a surprised giggled which only made you pout more. "You said you wouldn't make fun..."

"I know and I'm sorry for laughing but-" He shook his head in disbelief. "You work with arguably one of the scariest animals in the world but you're scared of the dark?"

You fiddled with the hem of the blanket as you tried to think of a way to explain it. "It's not so much the dark itself that scares me." He leaned down in bed again and rested his head on his hand to give you his undivided attention. "You and I know better than anyone what kind of stuff hides in the shadows..."

He nodded and stroke your hair back away from your face once you laid down with him again. "You should have told me earlier. You know I wouldn't mind sleeping with the light on. Hell, we do it every day considering how messed up our sleep schedule is." He said referring to your night shifts.

"I didn't want you to think I was silly." You said with a shrug.

Pecking your lips softly he turned over and flicked the light off again before grabbing his wand from the nightstand and casting a nonverbal spell. Before your eyes, a baby dragon sprouted from the tip of his wand and was glowing a gorgeous warm white. It flew around the room exploring, not much different than the babies you work with on the regular.

"Ronnie used to have trouble falling asleep so I would make these little guys for him." He explained.

You didn't feel scared anymore. Between the light that the dragon illuminated as it pranced around the room and the strong arms of Charlie around you, you felt sleep calling your name.

"I'm always going to be here to protect you from whatever hides in the dark," Charlie said just above a whisper as the baby dragon settled gently on the bed between you two. "Even if it means a little light in my eyes." He teased making you smile and peck his lips as a wordless form of showing your love.

It didn't take long for you to fall asleep, then the dragon, and lastly Charlie. He watched over you to make sure you were safe and comfortable before resting his eyes. By the time you woke up the sun was out, the dragon was gone and your tangerine haired boyfriend had you protectively in his arms. You had no fears when Charlie was around.

[a-froger-epic]

Get out your glitter leotards and pour some champagne in your cat mugs! 🥂 🍾 It’s time to celebrate Freddie! 🎉😸

🎊 Freddie Mercury Weekend 2021 🎊

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

ABOUT THE EVENT

This weekend is a content creation event in honour of the man himself, the legend we all love, Freddie Mercury! Once more, everyone who is inspired by Freddie is invited to share their creativity with the fandom. You can write, draw, edit, record, even cross-stitch 😉 content for absolutely anything related to Freddie, any ship, any genre, any way you like. This is an indiscriminately inclusive, positive event. Everyone is welcome, there is no wrong way to be a fan of Freddie! (Except convincing yourself you're dating his ghost maybe. That's pretty wrong. And weird. Don't do that.)

WHEN? On the 21st, 22nd and 23rd of May.

HOW? On the above dates (or after!), post your contributions to the AO3 collection or alternatively on Tumblr, tagged ‘#fmw2021’ or/and ‘#freddie mercury weekend 2021’. If you post on Tumblr, please also tag @a-froger-epic to make sure you get a reblog from me!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

THE PROMPTS

You can be as free with the prompts as you like. They are here to inspire, there is no wrong way to write them! Change them around, mix them up, make them fem!Freddie, A/B/O, add your favourite ship. Anything goes! 😊

21st of May - 500-1000 word challenge!

We’re kicking off the event with ficlets and drabbles. First time writer just testing the waters? No need for an epic, just write a scene! No time to write but you want to participate? Surely you’ll find time for 500 words! 😉 Interpret these mini-prompts however you like (every one is a separate prompt, but you can combine them!):

Make-Up 💄   |   Pain/Pleasure 👀

Strip 👕   |   Ring 💍

Forbidden 🤫   |   Delilah 🐈

Piano 🎹   |   Dormitory 🛏 

Outrageous 🎉   |   Contentment 😌

Come Together 🎇   |   Ballet 🩰

Piece of Art 🎨   |   Leather 🧥

Cockring 🐔   |   Kimono 👘

Petals 🌸   |   Leotard 🕺🏻

Mustache 🧔   |   Last Time 😔

22nd of May - Is This The Real Life? 

A list of real event/canon timeline prompts from Freddie’s life. How real you want to keep them, however, is entirely up to you!

Down in flames

Freddie is 16 years old when he leaves boarding school. Does it have something to do with the school gardener, Sanjay? Did he flunk his exams or did he not even sit them? Is one thing connected to the other? Does he really find a boyfriend when he goes to stay with his aunt in Mumbai (then Bombay)? Either way, there’s the small matter of his parents finding out about all of it... (Sources: x x )

When Freddie met Kenny

Freddie is a guest on Kenny Everett's radio show in spring 1974. Freddie is living with Mary, Kenny is married. Two gay men, deep in the closet. To no one's surprise, they hit it off immediately. (Source: x )

But when did he? 

At some point during his relationship with Mary, prior to his relationship with David, Freddie had already begun sleeping with men. But how and when did that first happen? Cottaging in London? On tour somewhere in the world? Your guess is as good as ours… 

Flying High

Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll. Like all rock bands of their time, Queen doesn’t escape the copious amounts of cocaine in the entertainment industry for long. Somewhere on tour in America, perhaps, Freddie is first introduced to it. Where? How? 

Hide your tears

Jim said that he tried to be strong for Freddie and only cried in private, so as not to burden Freddie with his feelings. But this time, he is found. 

One-liners:

In 1969, Freddie doesn’t know how to cook an egg and neither does Roger (Source: x )

In 1977, Freddie meets Joe while on tour in Boston and starts dating him behind David's back

In 1990, Brian and Freddie work on 'The Show Must Go On' (Source: x )

In a year of your choice, Jim reminisces about his fondest moment(s) with Freddie

In 1976, Freddie and Mary end their relationship 

In 1984, Winnie gives Freddie a wedding ring (middle of the post: x )

In the late 60s, Freddie agrees to model for an Ealing Art School fashion show, but panics and flees the runway (Source: x )

In 1974, Freddie is strip-searched upon arrival in Australia (Source: x )

In 1982, Freddie and Roger go shopping in Amsterdam (Source: x )

In 1978, Freddie swings from a chandelier - naked (Source: x )

23rd of May - Is It Just Fantasy?

A list of AU prompts to spark your imagination. Take them and run with them or change them up, just have fun!

Make your dreams come true

Freddie hasn't been very fortunate in his life, until he finds a very special oil lamp, and rubs it just the right way. 

Beautiful stranger

Freddie meets an alluring stranger at a masquerade ball, who has more secrets than he can hide behind a mask. But Freddie has some of his own. 

Thicker than water 

Freddie agrees to a dreadful fate in order to save his little sister from the very same. Fortunately, he has friends who are more than willing to help him, but can they? Or are they, too, in danger?

Diamonds are a boy's best friend

Freddie is the prized jewel of the court, a skilled belly-dancer and entertainer, but he may also be plotting murder and getting away with it. 

Almost Real

In a distant future, humans have all but done away with face to face interaction. Humanity largely lives online. Children grow up isolated and live with only their families well into young adulthood. Cybersex is the new normal, although some families take a puritanical approach for fear of addiction. One day, impossibly, a real life young man falls through the containment field in Freddie’s back garden. 

One-liners:

This plane is going to crash (Freddie knew there was a reason he hated flying) 

Shipwrecked on an island (Freddie could never bear to be alone, but luckily/unfortunately for him…) 

Hunger Games AU (Freddie is so dead) 

A terrible road accident (Everyone is so dead, or are they?) 

Blind Date AU (Freddie's best friend is so dead for setting him up with this person… or are they…) 

Bank robbery (but who are the robbers and who are the hostages?) 

Magic AU ("Yer a wizard, Freddie!")

Film Noir AU (Secrets and cigarette holders) 

Interior Design AU (Does the carpet match the drapes?)

The Bodyguard AU (“And I will always love yooouuuu…”)

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

RULES & FAQ

⛔ Strictly No Hate ⛔

This is the NUMBER ONE RULE of the event, to ensure that everybody feels safe. No rudeness, provocations or hate aimed at creators or other commenters will be permitted, not on AO3 nor Tumblr.

Follow these steps if you receive a comment or ask that distresses you:

Do not engage. (You can take a screenshot as proof.)

Delete it. No ifs, no buts. Just delete it. (Don’t hesitate to block anon hate on Tumblr.)

Alert me ( @a-froger-epic ) or @aboutnothingness, who is lending me a hand to make sure all needs are attended, all questions are answered and everything runs smoothly. We are here to actively support you. We’ve got your back, and we will gladly talk to you and help you feel better.

If you choose to ignore this rule, your work may be removed from the event. We would hate to resort to that.

But what if one of the works has upset me?

Can the thing that upset you be tagged, but it wasn’t? Then please inform @a-froger-epic or @aboutnothingness, and we will bring it to the creator’s attention. (Remember to use the appropriate tags, everybody!)

Was the thing that upset you already tagged? Or is it perhaps simply the characterisation you find disagreeable? Then we suggest you click on the ‘back’ button, take a deep breath and remind yourself it's just fanfic.

Who can participate?

Anyone who is inspired by Freddie Mercury in any way shape or form. This event is open to all.

Can I combine prompts from different days?

By all means! We look forward to your futuristic Freddie-gets-kicked-out-of-boarding-school Maycury Film Noir AU. With leotards. Go crazy.

I'm not sure where my creation fits in, what day do I post it? 

The days, like the prompts, are only suggestions. We don't mind when you post it, as long as you post it! Even if it's two weeks late! 

Help, I've never posted fic before! 

Don't worry, we've got you! (And more importantly, we've got AO3 invites!) @aboutnothingness is more than happy to walk you through the process of setting up an account and is also offering her services as a beta.

I’m still too nervous to participate!

You can post anonymously to the collection. You can disable anon comments on your work. You can disable comments entirely and just collect the kudos. You can close anon asks on Tumblr temporarily. But most importantly, we are here for you and we want you here!

❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

“I love the fact that I make people happy, in any form. Even if it’s just half an hour of their lives, in any way that I can make them feel lucky or make them feel good, or bring a smile to a sour face, that to me is worthwhile.”

- Freddie Mercury

[anjels001]

Angels theory time! The Secrets of Devildom: Demons of Lust (Part 1)

Anyone who has read the 7Og theory knows and the cycle of life (thanks @sparkbeast20 for the cooperation) that many of the facts that occurred are not explained and/or do not imply anything without context.

For Those Who Follow These Moments of Theory Can See What Demons Of Greed, Focusing Much Of These philosophical/theological/ Mythological Debates Pointing Out Plot Points That Few Would See And Undertake.

With this loss deciding that today's topic will be affected for class demons.

But before starting this moment of theory, I ask that you, dear reader, keep an open mind for this moment, and in case you can identify any flaws, or are forgetting something, remember that this is just a theoretical post. and I won't be upset if you want to add something to this conversation, I just ask you to Reblog and tag me so we can exchange theories on the subject.

----

One thing that stuck in my mind in the first moments of Mc's contact with 4 brothers in the intro was the famous phrase that Satan spoke after Mc had resisted Asmo's gaze.

With a bit of research in diverse texts, I realized that there is a certain tendency to demons with lust.

One of these tendencies is that they have the habit of "devouring" their partner during or after the mating act, whether at the first moment or in a certain amount of time, they always devour them, bathing themselves in their vitality and their specific blood whenever that act was done.

After some questions and observations of some texts, they came up with 3 hypotheses of such questions for this type of behavior.

From what everyone knows, most of the tales/legends about the succubus and/or pleasure demons (female) point out that they seduce their companions to absorb their essence during their acts of pleasure, this very death, it is observed in the texts that these living beings.

In the same way, it can be observed that the reasons are the centers/thousands of tests on these demons, few explanations of such needs.

we can also observe that in contrast to this there is a scarcity of tales/myths about its male counterpart.

However, if we look closely at these texts, it can be seen that such options were figures of grande and mestizos, perhaps even as important as previous figures.

Exemplify this by the famous wizard of Arthurian legend, a half-blood we know by the name of Merlin

yes, I understand sounding weird and u must be with what can it be what does this have satan's phrase for MC? simple to look at but deep down I remembered that the symbolic animal of how has a small behavior very similar to what I described earlier and I also realized that this answer fits a lot with my theories.

1- That the lust class demons have a disproportionate society.

In this case, most of the lust demons are females that tend to devour their weaker males.

as I said earlier as women eat themselves like the weakest males, then logically we can bear that the most exceptional are those who survive in this, driven by desire and lust.

this leads me to develop my 2 theories.

Those who read my theory with Spark about the 7 Og may remember that the pre- Diavolo society/demon brothers, had a behavior similar to the barbaric societies of the human realm.

Observing the barbaric acts of ancient society we can see that the lusts of lust tend to follow the patterns of the ancient rulers of great enormous have an immeasurable amount of wives/husbands of various races and different shapes.

When I say the avatars of lust, I'm not talking about having more than one avatar, but that the time of permanence of this avatar in power is short since he always died in those of his companion in his moment of weakness.

Asmo may have been the brother who had a harder time climbing the channel than his other siblings as the latter could be so necessary to demonstrate his resilience in pleasure.

Since the same was a virtue of purity, this was the one who most arose against his demonic form, the one who suffered the most and suffered from his sin.

That's why he's the only avatar of lust that doesn't have a harem, he's the only one with the longest reign in this position.

moreover, being an ex-virtue of chastity, Asmo does not have to worry about the constant need to absorb vitality.

He literally does everything for pleasure and nothing else.

now the 3rd is the last theory

the lust demons that possess the smallest part expect life compared to their counterparts.

why? because of what I pointed out earlier and of course! they need to suck the vitality to survive but with the peace agreement between the demon realm and the celestial realm in progress and the law that forbids demons in the human world without being summoned by them...

let's just say that if it weren't for constantly enchanting them Devildom would have a major upheaval on their hands.

[fallin-4-ya]

eavesdropping / c.d.

Eavesdropping

cedric diggory x reader

summary: at the Quidditch World Cup, y/n meets cedric diggory, who sweeps her right off her feet. but little do they know, her friends are watching the scenes unfold and have a lot to say on the matter.

warnings: slight mention of food, bickering, & i think that's it! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

requested? yes/no

words: 2k

The morning of the Quidditch World Cup was nothing short of eventful in the Weasley household. Coming from a wizarding family herself, y/n, knew how important the cup was and had been waiting all summer for the match. Being close as you can get with the Weasley Family, she had been invited to accompany them to the game. It was exciting to say the least. Y/n and Ginny could hardly sleep the night before just from pure adrenaline. However, morning approached quickly and abruptly as ever.

Ginny and y/n were awoken up by an already dressed Hermione, who aggressively shook them awake. “Let’s go, you two,” Hermione shouted, throwing open the curtains. “Mrs. Weasley says that breakfast is ready! And I have to go up and wake the boys.”

Ginny let out a groan and flopped back down on her bed; y/n let out a small giggle, getting up from the fortress of blankets that covered her the whole night. She looked at Ginny, still star fished on her bed, “Come on, Gin,” y/n spoke gently. “We got a quidditch match to go to.” And in nearly an instant she jolted up from her spot and threw on clothes as quickly as possible.

Ginny and y/n descended down the stairs as one, dress and ready to go. Mrs. Weasley greeted them with a kiss on the forehead each as they sat down at the table for breakfast. Mr. Weasley’s voiced bellowed through the first floor, “Good morning, ladies! Fine day, it is! Excited?”

“Excited, Dad? Like that’s even a question,” spoke Ginny with a mouth full of food.

“We could hardly sleep last night!” y/n joined in, serving herself. “Who are we meeting anyway, Mr. Weasley?”

“Amos Diggory and his son, Cedric. We work in the ministry together. I believe your father knows him as well,” Mr. Weasley said with a smile.

Molly turned around to the table, “Cedric, name sounds awfully familiar,” She pondered, then a lightbulb went off in her head. “Oh, yes. He is in the same year as the twins, y/n. The year just below you, I am sure you have seen him around.”

Y/n nodded, not recalling his name. Hogwarts was a big school after all. Molly called upstairs to the boys, yelling that it was time to go. A very sleepy Ron and Harry walked down the stairs, followed by an agitated Hermione. Ginny looked towards y/n, letting out a laugh. The lot of them gathered their belongings and said their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley. Then, the eight of them: Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ginny and y/n, set off to where the portkey was placed to get to the Quidditch Stadium.

They weren’t walking long when two men came into view. Mr. Weasley turned to the sleep deprived teenagers behind him, “There they are, the Diggory’s! Alright gather around everyone.”

Mr. Diggory and Mr. Weasley approached one another, shaking hands with grins on their faces. Then Mr. Weasley turned to Cedric, and suddenly y/n couldn’t breathe, because how did she not know that this boy existed before today. His figure was lean and fit, his brown curls fell gently around his face and his eyes were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. And Cedric was thinking the exact same thing, because he came up to her quickly after greeting his father’s friend.

“Hey,” Cedric said, looking deep into y/n’s eyes. “I’m Cedric, lovely to meet you.”

“y/n,” she said, extending her hand for him to shake it. Everyone stopped to watch the scene in front of them play out. It was like wandless magic was happening before their very eyes. Sparks flew and the six of y/n’s friends hated every second of it.

“And just like that,” Ginny sighed. “Leaving me for a stocky, Hufflepuff boy. I will admit, I am heartbroken.”

“Oh, sod off, Ginny,” George turned to her.

“Yeah, he’s in our year and we don’t even get to talk to him. We’re the ones who should be complaining.” Fred said, agreeing with his twin.

“Wait, I thought we hated him after what he pulled in the quidditch match last year,” Harry spoke up.

The twins turned simultaneously to him. “Thanks, Harry,” said Fred.

“We almost forgot about that,” George nodded. “We’re with Ginny on this one.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the lot of them, “Guys, just look at them.” They all whipped their heads around to see Cedric and y/n smiling and laughing at each other. Y/n looked shyly at the ground, her face heating up from whatever was said and Cedric looked down at her with the biggest smile anybody had ever seen.

“Gross.” Ron stated.

“Pathetic.” Ginny agreed.

“I think it’s kind of cute,” smiled Hermione.

Mr. Weasley clapped his hands together, gathering everyone’s attention. They all began walking to the portkey together, Cedric and y/n trailing along behind everyone on their journey. The two got along so well, it was hard to believe they had never met before today. It was pure magic.

Soon after arriving to the portkey and using it to take them to the Quidditch World Cup, the parties went their separate ways. The girls gathered in one tent, and the boys in another. When they put all of their bags and such down, Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, “Finally!”

“Didn’t know you were that desperate to get away from your bothers, Gin,” said y/n with a smirk on her face.

“My brothers!” Ginny gaped at her. “Try Cedric. The way he looked at you, disgusting.”

Hermione playfully slapped Ginny, laughing. “We just mean, that it’s pretty clear he likes you.”

“Oh, no,” y/n reassured. “It’s not like that at all! You see, our dads work in the ministry together, so we had a bunch to talk about. You got it all wrong.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and Hermione smiled wide. Their friend was so oblivious, and it was just too cute. After a few hours of playing games and betting on what would happen in the match, it was time to walk over to the stadium.

Once inside they all made their way to the Minister’s box, which had the most spectacular view anyone had ever seen. The group of them, including Cedric, made their way to look at all of the fun souvenirs. Y/n and Cedric wandered off, leaving the rest of the crew to gather around and watch their interactions.

“Cedric’s pretty cool, I reckon,” Ron said eyeing the two down, as they walked over to one of the small stands selling flags. “Almost too cool for y/n, I’ll say.” However, Ron was met by a chorus of disapproving grunts.

“Are you joking, Ron. y/n is clearly way too cool for him. I mean, he’s really only got his good looks going for him.” The crowd of them watched as Cedric bought y/n a small rosette. “Okay, and he’s really nice.” Then he carefully pinned it onto y/n’s jacket for her. “And he’s a gentleman? Godric, could this get any worse!” Ginny practically screamed.

“We lost her so quickly,” sighed Fred. “Gone forever, I reckon.”

“Shush! She’s coming back!” whispered Hermione. They all shuffled back to face the pitch as y/n took her seat next to Hermione and Ginny. “So, how’s Cedric?”

“He’s really sweet, ‘Mione,” y/n smiled to herself. “A really great guy.”

“Sooo, would you hypothetically date him?” asked Ginny, in her attempt to be nonchalant.

“Ginny!” y/n gasped. “I mean– I don’t know. I just met him!”

Ginny smiled at her, “Well, you never know!” She shrugged her shoulders, turning to the Quidditch pitch. The World Cup had finally begun. Cheers rang amongst the crowds as famous players began soaring around the pitch. It was unbelievable, but perhaps Cedric Diggory found the girl sitting just a few rows shy of him even more entertaining than the match happening before him.

After the incredible match between Bulgaria and Ireland, the families headed back to their tents for the night. They all gathered around one another talking about the highlights of the game, speaking excitedly amongst themselves. Though it wasn’t that long before Cedric found the group and began chatting away with y/n, going slightly ahead of the others. They looked so happy together, two teenagers head over heels for each other.

The two stopped a few feet away from the Weasley’s tents, where they stood chatting a bit more, not wanting the night to end. Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all crowded around behind a tent to hear what was going on between the two.

“Are they really that oblivious?” asked Ron.

“You’re one to talk, Ron,” snapped Ginny.

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” he barked back at his little sister.

Ginny rolled her eyes far back into her head, “Oh, honestly, Ronald.”

Fred waved his hand in front of Ginny and Ron, quieting them, “Pipe down, you two. We’re trying to listen.” The younger siblings obeyed, sneaking closer to where Cedric and y/n stood. A faint conversation was heard between the two.

“I had a great time with you today, y/n,” Cedric spoke softly.

“Me, too,” she smiled sweetly back at him. “Thanks, for everything.”

“Let’s say you can pay me back by letting me take you on a date to Hogsmeade when we get back to school.” He grinned, a rosy tint glowing on his cheeks.

“I’d like that a lot.” y/n whispered.

However, before the conversation could be heard any further a soft ouch escaped Ron’s lips. A chorus of shushes were sent his way immediately. Ron laid on the floor, clutching his right foot. He gaped at his friends and siblings, “Not my fault, Ginny stood on my foot! I think she broke my bloody toe!”

“I did not such thing!” she scream-whispered back.

The lot of them turned around at the two arguing shushing the again. Harry, who was intently watching the scene, scolded them, “Pipe down, it’s getting good!”

“Well go on, tell me!” Ron said back.

“Okay, okay,” said Harry. “Well, he just took her hand. Now he’s got out some parchment and –what’s he writing? –  oh, he’s writing down his address so she can write to him. She took the slip and said she would write to him. And now. And now–“

“And now what, Harry! You can’t leave me hanging like this!” Ron exclaimed.

“He’s leaning in! Merlin, he’s leaning in!” Ginny shouted. The whole group stood on their toes, anxiously awaiting what would happen next. They we’re practically pulling out their hair watching the scene in front of them unfold.

“He kissed her!” stated Harry, proudly.

“On the cheek?” George said as more of a question than a statement.

Fred looked confused beyond belief, “Seriously, who kisses a girl on the cheek?”

“A gentleman,” Hermione and Ginny swooned together.

But, all six of them were pulled out of their trance by footsteps heading in their direction. y/n was coming back to where the tent. They all suddenly jolted out of their huddling stance and attempted to act as normally as they possibly could in the few second they had.

“What’s up with you lot?” y/n asked, laughing and rejoining the awkward looking group, “And why is Ron sat on the floor?” Ron gave Ginny a look before rising to his feet.

Fred cleared his throat, “So, then what’s the story?”

George continued, “With Cedric we mean.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, before letting out small giggle. “What’s the matter, you couldn’t hear the rest of our conversation?”

The six of them stopped breathing and looked at y/n with pleading eyes. How did she know? Hermione gasped and Ron shook his head in disbelief. Harry was the first to pipe up, “Well, we were just –you see we were only. You know,” he stumbled through his words. He looked at his friends, “Seriously, no help?”

Y/n threw her head back laughing, because they were just so obvious. “I’ll tell you all what, after we go on our date at Hogsmeade, you’ll all be the first to know.”

And it wasn’t long after that when her friends all embraced her, with laughter coming far too easily. Sometimes, eavesddropping does come in handy!

(a/n~ thank you for reading!!! this is a lil different from my normal writing style, so i hope you liked it! thank you to the lovely anon who requested this idea! my requests are open! sending love and positive vibes! -xo mari)

[saphirered]

would you mind doing a little scene maybe of caduceusxreader or maybe calebxreader where their s/o ends up hit with pollen during battle that gets them super high alla knott and the floor fruit style please?

Little turned into a bit more of a scenes instead 😅. A little disclaimer; I do not condone the abuse of substances especially not illegal ones. Listen to your auntie Saph, kids! Stay in school and be responsible! 😘

Content Warning: Use of mind altering substances.

It’s the middle of a fight in the jungle. You’re under attack by a large lizard walking on its hind legs, with some rather useless short arms but huge sharp teeth that have munched on Fjord one too many times leaving the half-orc in a bleeding and moody state without much of a chance to get out and not get hit again.

The battlefield is not in your favour considering this oversized lizard is about to turn your friend into its next meal but you still have a healing potion left and really, this is the time to use it but you can’t really get to Fjord without getting close to the lizard thing and even then you doubt you’d be able to get into arms reach of the man. Well it’s now or never and better than the alternative. You rush forward dodging below the toothy maw of the creature.

“Fjord! Catch!” With that you get as close as you can, tossing the healing potion. Fjord just barely catches it, thanking you but that quickly falls silent.

“Look out!” Caleb shouts as he releases a firebolt to strike the lizard. It does not stop the creature from swiping with its tail sending you flying with a brute force knocking the air out of you. Luckily your landing is softened by a comfy bed of flowers, moss and some mushrooms. You land a cloud of spores and pollen dusting around you and entering your lungs as the first breath you’re able to take. It leaves you coughing and sneezing but you shake it off. This is not the right time for allergies to be kicking in. You got a lizard to kill.

Together you fight off the lizard. Still taking quite some good hits you deliver some as well and in the end manage to kill the thing. Some of you worse for wear you unanimously decided taking a breather is probably a good idea. You find a comfy patch of moss that does not release a dust cloud the moment you touch it and let yourself fall into its soft embrace, eyes closed.

“I’m just going to lie down over here. Let me know when we’re moving again.” An odd sense of nausea kicks in so you turn to your side and just curl up in an attempt to get a little more comfortable on the jungle floor.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Caleb asks looking you over. Physically you're a bit worse for wear but not terribly so. A moment of rest should have you back on your feet. You phase out a bit letting yourself be dragged off in a moment of rest.

Not but five minutes later your moment of peace is disturbed by a warm, really warm but comfortable hand being placed on your arm and shaking you lightly. You curl up a little tighter before rolling on your back and meeting the bright blue eyes of Caleb. You don’t recall them being that bright, maybe more like a muted or pale blue but now they’re vibrant. Odd you hadn’t noticed before. Same goes for his hair, red is more fiery orange and you swear you can pick apart every single strand on his head as well as the light stubble he’s sporting.

"Hey." You smile at the wizard lovingly. You'll never tire of waking up to Caleb no matter of how much you might want to continue sleeping. Caleb's a handsome man but right now he looks absolutely angelic with the bleeding light creating a halo around him.

Maybe it’s just because of the faded green background behind Caleb that throws off the contrast? Besides, you might have fallen asleep in your five minutes of rest, your vision usually goes a bit blurry until things come into focus but that doesn’t really explain why Caleb is so high focus now… Odd but you dismiss it as exhaustion and the vast jungle getting to you. No, you definitely hit your head when that lizard tail swiped you. Maybe you have a concussion. Should ask the clerics to check that out later once they’ve gotten their rest. Now's not the time to bother them.

“Hey. Time to get up. We’re ready to move before nightfall comes around.” Ugh. Even his voice sounds angelic now? Caleb offers you a hand and helps you up from the comforts of your moss-bed. Somewhat reluctant you get up. The nausea gets worse and you put a hand over your mouth suppressing the urge to vomit.

“Are you alright?” Caleb stabilises you as you stumble a little, dizziness not making your nausea any better. Sweet gods those warm hands just make you want to curl up into their warmth forever but you repress the urge well aware Caleb isn’t exactly the fondest of pda and keep it more surface levels with the others around.

“Yeah. Totally fine just a bit ugh but I’ll be fine. Some more sleep will probably do me good.” You see the rest of the Nein is packed up and ready to continue. Weren’t they just unpacking when you closed your eyes five minutes ago? Okay so maybe those five minutes were closer to an hour or so? What kind of exhaustion fuelled time warp did you get stuck in? This exhaustion is really getting to you. You need a vacation; one with Caleb. Maybe with an ocean view? That sounds nice. You're getting side tracked. Time to travel.

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

The journey continues deeper into the jungle towards your destination and your limbs get heavier and heavier. Did Jester paint you some lead shoes and replace yours while you were asleep? Did she do your clothes too? Because your whole body feels so heavy.

You bump into Caleb’s side. A hand finds its way to the small of your back and the warmth returns. You didn’t realise you’re feeling so cold, freezing almost so you allow yourself to lean just a bit more into Caleb’s side to bask in the warmth provided by your flaming hot wizard.

“You don’t happen to be able to make someone do the floaty glide thingy Essek can do, can’t you?” Caleb is confused by your sudden question and the unfiltered sentencing. You usually formulate your words more carefully than this but it seems as if the word ‘gravity’ has escaped your vocabulary. Caleb blames it on exhaustion seeing your somewhat unfocused state and feeling the weight of your body leaning on him for support. You’ve been walking for hours, running for a few and fought a giant lizard of a forgotten era after all. You have every right to be tired and he'll support you in any way he can.

“Ah, I’m afraid not. But, we will be setting down for the night once we reach a clear spot.” Didn’t you catch that conversation? You were there for it providing nods and noises of agreement while keeping an eye out for anything approaching. This is a bit odd for you so Caleb decides to keep an eye on you.

You hear birds chirping around you, their song drowning out Caleb’s words but not voice as he talks to you but the song is just too beautiful, it brings a smile to your face. Looking around you can see them sometimes. Colourful feathers popping against the green and the muted flashes of a sun lowering. If the sun’s going to sleep, you want to go soon too. It’s not really fair if you have to keep walking when it gets to lie down.

The colours and patterns through the leaves are very pretty though and the rays bleeding through are to die for. The world should look like this forever. It’s so beautiful, pulsing with every breath you take. No, you’re breathing with the nature around you. You get a newfound respect for Caduceus and Fjord’s Wildmom. She’s pretty cool if she’s responsible for all this. Is she responsible for all this? She gets your credit anyway.

You’re pulled to a sudden stop, or at least it feels sudden. Caleb is suddenly in front of you pulling your focus towards him and away from the chirping birds and the setting sun and the Wildmom. You’d ask Caleb to leave you alone but his gentle smile alone and warm hands on your shoulders pushing you down to sit on a tree stump call for your undivided attention in turn pulling it away from the gently blowing breeze and kaleidoscope of colours.

“You’re exhausted. Sit down and rest while we set up.” Caleb suggests and you find yourself nodding the words not entirely registering. Warm fingers press against your cheek before they pull away all too soon. The warmth leaves your body as Caleb leaves your side and the freezing cold returns. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself in an effort to preserve the heat but nothing seems to work.

You try to focus on your surroundings to distract from the icy cold, the humid jungle temperatures doing nothing to keep you warm. The crickets provide a beautiful symphony with the rustling leaves, the last of the song birds going to sleep and the awakening of the nocturnal creatures. It helps and you find yourself swaying lightly from side to side with the melody. It brings you a sense of happiness and content as well as a connection to everything around you.

You feel yourself beginning to drift when something warm and soft and a little heavy is draped across your shoulders. The warmth is similar to Caleb but not entirely the same, though you’re met with an intense smell of molasses, old books and whatever remains after a fire has turned to embers. Your eyes fall upon the dark purple material of Caleb’s coat; most of all the geometric patterns of the lining. They are enchanting and you feel like you could get lost in them.

“You’re shivering. Come. We’re all set up.” You once again allow Caleb to guide you back to your feet and pull you along to where the Nein had set up. Sitting down with you Caleb takes out his spellbook and a small crystal bead. You've always loved watching Caleb cast spells, something alluring to the practiced words and patterns. He begins to weave his hands through the air in front of him, the light sparks of magic following his fingertips as he speaks the words, what you didn’t expect to see is the trails left by the motions. You’ve never seen those before. That’s new. They’re very pretty though; a warm orange trail of embers just like him. Enamoured you stare, making no effort to hide or avert your gaze. You catch Caleb's eyes and he offers you a half smile which you dopily return continuing to watch the patterns.

You’re rudely pulled out of your trance by Caduceus offering you a bowl of food. Usually you would have jumped at the promise of food, the firbolg’s cooking is unrivalled but now the nausea comes back and your stomach twists at the smell alone. You turn to the side fighting the urge vomit and as politely as possible and decline the delicious food much to your dismay.

Caleb does accept the food he’s offered as Veth happily accepts your serving as seconds. Caleb sniffs the food expecting it to smell off somehow because of your reaction but it doesn’t. It’s as perfect as ever and you’re not one to refuse food when offered. As he begins eating you excuse yourself finding a spot where you don’t have to look at your friends consuming their food both, because of the strong smell and the look of it. While delicious the thought of the texture sends your brain in overdrive where you get an overwhelming phantom taste which only intensifies the nausea.

Finding a spot still within the dome but far enough to be comfortable you just watch the geometric patterns in the lining of Caleb’s coat. Not only do you focus on the patterns but you’re pretty sure you can count the individual threats of the fabric. The colours and contrast intense pull you in almost pervasively so.

A hand shakes your shoulder turning you to face them. It’s Caleb and he looks rather worried. The expression alone carries over to you. What’s he worried about? It’s not bad is it? Is it because of you? Oh, no maybe it is you… You’re set into a train of emotions and anxiety and when Caleb notices his expression softens but the worry does not leave.

“Hey, hey. I need you to breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.” You follow his instructions taking deep breathes and the anxiety mutes replaced by a hyper fixation on Caleb. Literally, everything around the wizard fades into the distance when he steps into your vision but you manage to force yourself to be aware of your surroundings with a lot of effort.

“Very good. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?” From over Caleb’s shoulder you see Veth stuff her mouth with the food you refused and that alone is enough to make you gag. Caleb notices and shifts to break your line of sight. Oh no, you can smell it again. You cover your mouth and nose and lean forward letting your forehead fall against his clavicle taking deep breaths of the comfy molasses, old pages and smouldering fire scent.

“I don’t know but one more sniff of food and I’ll vomit so please take mercy on me and save me from the savoury deliciousness until this nausea passes.” Caleb wraps his arms around you, one hand rubbing circles into your back while the other lightly plays with the hairs on the back of your neck to alleviate your suffering. Of course he’s trying to piece together what’s happened because you’re behaviour added up is not entirely like you. Right now his priority is making sure you're comfortable.

He keeps this going as one by one the Nein goes to sleep, Caleb and by default you taking the first watch. You don’t yet feel comfortable removing yourself from Caleb’s arms but do find a more comfortable position for the both of you to spare you the numbness of limbs.

The longer you sit around your mind starts to feel less hazy, the hyper focus lessens and your stomach calls for sustenance, the nausea fading. Luckily Caduceus had saved you some leftovers which you happily nibble on. The spices and herbs providing extra flavours are intense but no longer unwelcome or nauseating. Regardless of what caused this all, you didn’t think Caduceus’ food could taste any better but damn does it taste beyond divine. You’ve rediscovered your appetite and finish the leftovers.

While sitting in Caleb’s embrace, head on his stomach holding the book you’re both reading Caleb’s coat long since returned to him you’re feeling mentally exhausted, but your mind is at ease, as if all stress and pressure of the world around you has faded for just a moment. You’re at peace in the arms of the man you love and surrounded by your friends.

The realisation that despite all the bad you’ve gone through together it’s all been worth it a thousand times over and you wouldn’t change a thing. A yawn escapes as you turn the page, knowing Caleb will have read it several times at this point.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“You’d think with all the breaks and rest you’ve already gotten today you’d have trouble sleeping again.” Caleb recalls the times where you’ve taken breaks before and spent half of the night up getting rid of the energy just to get a moment of sleep in the more stressful days where sleep does not come easily; days like the past few have been.

“I would have but none of those times did I actually catch a break. I was nauseas for hours, everything felt and looked intense, could only focus on one thing at the time visually even though for some reason I was hyper aware of my senses.” You turn the page again as Caleb pulls you a little closer, about to press a kiss to your shoulder. He stops, retreats and instead brushes his fingers over it.

“Maybe I was just on an exhaustion or anxiety high running on my last bit of energy and now we get a moment to relax and breathe, that’s what gotten me back to earth.” Caleb doesn’t respond and when you look up at him from over your shoulder you see Caleb closely inspecting the fingers he brushed over your shoulder.

“You know, I’m beginning doubt this change of mood was induced by exhaustion.” He runs his fingers together and you see the light dust pulverise. Confused you signal for Caleb to elaborate on his train of thought because you’re still feeling a little slow.

“Remember the tumble you took into the patch of flowers and mushrooms?”

“You mean when I got my ask kicked by an oversized lizard? Yeah, hard to forget.” You grasp at your ribs as if to relief a still lasting ache from the hit of the creature’s tail. You turn around, putting the book down and sit on your knees between Caleb’s legs as things begin to fall into place for the both of you. Your landing... Oh no...

“I don’t think that dust cloud upon impact was just dust or pollen.” You throw your head back and groan. Unbelievable. Through the lasting peace and calm you feel the embarrassment peak through as well as annoyance at the whole situation.

“So you’re telling me I’ve been tripping balls for the past six or so hours?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Caleb states deadpanned before he breaks and laughs at you. You deserve it really. Stubbornness to admit something’s wrong is what got you so far. Should have told someone you weren’t feeling right and it definitely wasn’t exhaustion but no and it was already too late when the ‘beauty of the world’ took hold of your mind.

“Well then, take comfort that it’s not just the spores leave me completely enamoured with you.” You peck Caleb’s nose and poke his stomach to get him to quit laughing before he wakes up the others. You won’t hear the end of this that’s for damn sure so best to keep this incident between the two of you. Let the other’s believe you’re just over-exhausted.

[elles-writing]

Dragon Heart - IV.

Taglist: @guardianofrivendell @anjhope1 @legolasoftherings @kumqu4t @grunid @elvish-sky @artsywaterlily @alexloveskili

If you want to be added to tag list, send me a message or comment please.

Warnings/triggers: -

She looked over at Bilbo, who was stirring, and decided it would be a good idea to prepare him a cup of warm tea with some honey and milk. Y/N remembered Bilbo loved this as a child.

So, her next steps took her to the hobbit's kitchen.

Before she stepped inside, Y/N noticed one - perhaps from the older ones - dwarf, who prepared a steaming cup of tea already.

The dwarf didn't seemed to trust her - of course - but his eyes little softened, because she knew Gandalf and Bilbo.

"What tea is that?" Y/N asked instead, genuiely interested.

"Charmomile, for Master Baggins." Y/N hummed and the dwarf quickly left the little hobbit kitchen. You looked around, more concentrated this time. Then, you looked over the hall, pantry, and living room, where was Bilbo, Gandalf and some of the dwarves.

Baggins', now Bilbo's house, has never been un-practical. Maybe for Y/N by it's size, but other than that, there was everything one would need for life.

When Bilbo catched her eyes, Y/N could clearly see he was uncomfortable, upset and absolutely, absolutely done with the subject.

The dwarves.

But most importantly...

Gandalf.

You shrugged, and decided to leave him his burglar-not-burglar game. Bilbo would not be patient forever, but he was mannered and clever enough to know what to do. You were sure the hobbit would feel his Took side with desire for an adventure again.

And take his chance to escape Sackville-Baginses.

As you walked around, you noticed some of the pictures. They seemed to be new - or at least you didn't remembered them.

You walked closer, and stepped on something. You looked down, and noticed it was a dagger. You've never seen the design before, but assumed it must be one of the dwarves'. You picked it up and studied it, when you overheard a voice next to you.

"Careful with this, it's been just sharpened." You turned to see a blonde, blue-eyed dwarf, with braided moustache. He seemed to have the same twinkle in his eyes as Kili.

"I can handle sharp things," Y/N said and looked back at the knife.

"It's nice. Not too light, but not as heavy either." Y/N was thinking aloud. She completely forgot the dwarf next to her, as she studied the dagger.

"You know Master Baggins," He suddenly said. Y/N turned to him.

What the-did he just-

"I do," You nodded, and placed the dagger to his hand.

What the-no, he just didn't-

"You don't look like you are related," he continued.

"That's because we aren't." You ended the topic. Instead, it was your time to ask.

"Who are you?"

"Fili, at your service m'lady," he gently took your hand and kissed the back of your hand, his eyes not leaving yours.

"Y/N, at yours...Fili," You said.

"Oh, Y/N, can I-can I talk to you, for a second?" Bilbo came and you gladly walked aside with him, while Fili send you a wink.

"Bilbo, to answer some of your questions - no, I didn't knew-"

"I'm not talking about the, the dwarves," Bilbo looked over the room with frown on his face.

"Then what is it, my little friend?" You said quietly in attempt to brighten up the situation. Bilbo was almost adorable with frowned pouty face, hands folded on his chest, patting the floor with his foot...only if you could stand straight in his house. Your back thought the size of his house was not adorable at all.

"Well, um...did Gandalf told you to bring them along?" You looked at him with scrunched face, and rolled your eyes.

"I wouldn't be coming if I knew there were dwarves involved. So, if anything, I share your unpopular opinion." And ruffled his hair. He jumped up.

"I'm not a little hobbit anymore, you don't have to do this," Bilbo said through gritted teeth, and you grinned.

"Well, you still are kind of little," You teased him futher, until a dwarf with sharp blue eyes, long, dark hair, and the biggest grumpy and pouty face you've ever seen (not even Bilbo could do that, when he was angy little hobbit).

That dwarf shot you a glare, and also to Bilbo, who was taken aside by him and Gandalf, again.

You felt sorry for Bilbo.

When he was free, you overheard him muttering something about 'surely not going', 'not going anywhere', 'wizards', and so on. You decided to go to sleep, because all of the dwarves were asleep already, and you needed to be up early.

You woken up quickly. The first thing you've heard was the snoring. You scrunched your face, and quickly packed your things. Then, you walked out of Bag End, and decided to wait for them there.

The sunrise was nice time, especially to prepare your horse for the day.

"Shh," you cooed her quietly. It was beautiful mare, tall, and very, very clever.

"It will be okay. We will find dad, and we will go away, to live far away...everything is going to be just fine," You muttered.

"You ready?" Kili stood next to you with a grin on his face. You jumped up a little.

"I am." You said, and noticed Kili's expression as he looked at your horse. You let out a laugh.

"You've never seen a horse before?" Kili walked back a little.

"Not really," he said and you noticed his blushed cheeks.

"Kili!" You both looked over to Fili, standing between two ponies, who called him.

-

"Do you think Bilbo will come?" Kili asked you.

"That hobbit won't show up," Balin said. He was on his pony next to Kili, so he thought he talked to him.

"It's no surprise. Why would Master Baggins leave his home," Thorin (as was the grumpy dwarf named) said.

"I wouldn't understimate hobbits, and especially not Master Baggins," Gandalf said as he smoked his pipe.

"I am sure he is going to come," He said.

And that's when the bet started.

-

It wasn't even five minutes after you left Shire, when you overheard Bilbo's voice in the distance.

"Waaait!"

You looked over to Gandalf, who was hiding a laugh.

"You planned this?" You quietly asked and motioned to the hobbit, who was breathing heavily.

"Well, perhaps," he said, and you scoffed a little and shook your head, as the dwarves seated Bilbo on his pony.

-

The day was beautiful. It was actually quite warm, just warm so you could put down your cloak.

As the evening was approaching, and the sun was setting into palette of gold and velvet, and the sky was getting darker, Thorin decided it was time to set up camp. After a quick argument with Gandalf, the wizard left to seek company of himself. So, there was nothing easier, than to just finding the best place to place your bedroll.

You, Fili and Kili were on first watch. You laid down on your bedroll, and watched the stars. It was cloudless night, plus the crackling sound of fire, and smell of fresh night air was relaxing.

Bilbo was just coming back from his pony, when a sound in distance made him freeze.

"W-what was that?" He pointed to the distance, while looking at Kili.

"Orcs," he said in low, deep voice. You sat up. Bilbo had a part of Took in himself, but he was not that much of a Took.

"There is going to be plenty of those," Fili said, and, obviously, Kili continued.

"They come at night, no screams, just lots of blood," He looked at Bilbo, and the shadows in his face, along with his deep and low voice made it come out horribly scary. Him and Fili started chuckling, but you sighed.

"The way you two snore would make them run for hills, so I wouldn't be that worried," You said, and noticed Bilbo to relax by the corner of your eye.

Kili looked over at you. You pulled out book from your pack. He quickly recognized it, even in the darkness of the night. It was that book you flipped through back in Bag End.

You sat comfortably down, and looked over the illustrations on the pages, and softly touched them.

"What is the book you are reading about, lassie?" Balin asked. You didn't looked up.

"It's a book with tales and stories my...father wrote down," you answered.

"He used to read them to me," you shrugged.

"Would you read some of them-ow, what was that for?!" Kili whisper-yelled at his brother, who chuckled.

"You're a child, Kee," He muttered to himself, and Kili pouted. But Fili was curious as well, which Kili didn't needed to know.

"Well...this one," You flipped a few pages futher.

"This one is called Strange thief and the stars," Y/N comfortably sat and started reading.

"There was once a man. He wasn't very known by name, but by his eyes. His eyes, deep and dark, with sparkles, reminding of stars. Nobody has ever seen eyes like this before, and people were whispering he has stars themselves in his eyes," You slid the tips of your fingers over the drawing, remembering the precision your father has made into repairing them.

"Many women tried to grab his attention, but anytime they didn't sucsceeded, the sparks in their eyes were less visible, but in his as well. And that is why men has decided to call him 'the thief of stars', or a 'strange thief of stars'. He was wandering through the lands, until he found what, as he realized, was looking for,"

"What happened next?" Bilbo asked.

"That girl didn't want to talk to him. She was very kind and caring, but not naive. One day, however, she found a dragon. Big dragon, who seemed scary, but saved her from orcs. The beast's eyes reminded her of someone, yet she didn't knew of whom." You realized everyone was quiet, listening to you, as you spoken.

"The next day, she met the man. He runned into her, in a rush, in a fear - and asked her "Did you see the dragon too?". The young maiden nodded, and helped him to get to safety, as he was very nervous and scared. Since that day, they became closer and closer. One day, when a few years passed, her father - an old, wise and kind man - said, his daughter will marry someone, who gives her something very special. The young man came the next day in their house they lived in. He said," you flipped the page.

" 'I do not have much to offer - gold, silver, or gems - but I do have this," he took out a notebook out of his coat, and offered it. The girl's father took the notebook, and opened it. It was full of drawings of flowers, animals and people - but mainly of one special maiden, when she was laughing, collecting flowers, brushing her hair, cooking, reading...When she came there, and looked throught the book, her father looked at her, and she nodded. So, he looked deeply into the young man's eyes, and said 'She chose you.' "

You finished the story, and Kili giggled at how interested his brother was.

"Now who's the child here,"

[dreamii-yume]

For malleus birthday heres an au; his darling is a fairy bride given as a birthday gift cos she was the princess of another fairy nation which wants to get on his good side. She wants to have a nice marriage with malleus but its hard not to feel afraid when the husband she just met is much bigger than her and knows that fairy wings are sensitive

As a Princess, it was your responsibility to go through great lengths to assure the safety of your people. So, even if you cower at the thought of marrying someone like the Great Malleus Draconia, you knew you had to stand your ground. Showing weakness and hesitation would lead to an immediate failure after all.

This marriage carries a lot of risk, should you fail to appeal to the eyes of this royalty could cost you everything, your whole kingdom, and yet your parents decided to grasp this opportunity by the thorns anyways.

It only showed you how much they trust your judgement, as they were willing to bet so much for their one daughter. The Draconian lineage was no joke after all, if everything goes well and your two nations joined forces, it’s not a far-off dream to say that it’ll become a terrifying allegiance, invincible to a fault.

If you could become the queen of this country with Malleus as the king, you’ll be able to sustain everything that your nation would’ve wanted. Thus, this was a fate that you deemed worth fighting for, why your family raised you to be perfect in every way and of course, you were already convinced that you’ll have to exceed far for those expectations.

This was your destiny, your purpose as the sole Princess of your country.

“Are you scared?”

Your very first introduction with him, an elegant tea party with only the two of you at the table, along with two of his retainers and your own from behind. Malleus Draconia started it off with a question that hit too close to home for you, but your smile never faltered. It must not, no matter what.

On his lips lies a relaxed smirk, his hands resting on his cheeks as his eyes never left your form. “...Scared of me, I wonder?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and yet, his eyes glows in a green spark of interest.

Closing your eyes, you placed your cup back on a plate with delicate manners and shook your head. “No.” You said, with a loud and clear voice as you smiled back at him. “I should not be.”

Malleus’ smirk widens as he hums, hinting that you must have chosen the correct answer. “It will be a bad habit for a wife to be scared of her husband, will it not?” You added as you brought the tea cup back to your lips, savoring the taste of the exquisite tea.

With a chuckle, Malleus leaned back on his chair. “I see...I suppose you have a point.” He said, closing his eyes but a satisfied expression had been painted on his handsome face. He looked back at you, a devious glint sparked within his eyes. “Hm, I like you. Clearly, you’re much more level-headed than the others I’ve met.”

Without a warning, he stood up from his seat and your eyes could only follow him as he went right beside you. “I care so little about my own date of birth, but this might just be the first time that I’ve gotten quite the eccentric present.” He said, right at your ear. His voice was so deep that it sent shivers down your spine, but you stubbornly kept up a straight face. “I’m interested to know more about you, (Y/N). I’ll make sure to treasure our time together.”

With his voice so close to your ears, you realized far too late when his fingers ran and traced over your back up to the outline of your wings, quickly capturing you off-guard. You widened you eyes, flinching ever-so slightly, and regrettably letting out a slight gasp as you turned around to face him. Malleus merely smiled at you, his eyes were dark and makes your stomach churn in uncomfortably. It almost felt like a child discovering a new function in his favorite toy, you could gulp at it. It was at this moment that you realized your position and quickly ceased your panic, smiling back at him almost immediately.

You wished he at least didn’t see that one trail of nervous sweat trailing down your forehead, but you seriously doubted it. “It would be an honor, Malleus-sama. Thank you very much. I will absolutely look forward for it.”

He chuckled, lifting his head up. “...And so would I.” Malleus ended, dusting off invisible dust on his suit as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well then, I best be on my way. Until next time, (Y/N).”

“Of course.” You said with a smile that you noticed was getting weaker and weaker. Thankfully, Malleus and his retainers had already passed by your seat to even take note of. “I wish you the happiest birthday, Malleus-sama.”

It was like his ominous laughter echoed through your head, a faint version of it was all you could hear as the King slowly went on his merry way. It took your mind a solid minute for it to stop such an auditory hallucination, and finally, you were met back with silence. You could finally breathe properly.

“My Lady, are you okay?” Your retainer asked as you found yourself slowly gripping on the edge of the table tightly. It seems like giving yourself the freedom to breathe properly without any restrictions had you unconsciously sucking in too much air.It reached the point of hyperventilation, that you had to grasp your chest tight in order to keep yourself in order. You grit your teeth tight.

His presence alone was overwhelming.

But the constant worrisome voice of your servant had you snapping back to reality, it made you remember how you should be strong for people like her. As a Princess, you have no time to whine over your own fears. “...Y-Yes, just felt a slight heart burn, that’s all. I think I might’ve drank too much tea.” You reassured your servant with the same well-trained smile you put on. Your excuse caught her completely, though it escalated with her trying to contact the royal doctor for extra assistance, in which you had to use effort to prevent her from doing so.

Still, out of all the lies that you had said before, that one particular lie had manage to fill you with terror the most.

...He was wrong, you’re not level-headed at all. You were absolutely terrified and you wished you would’ve been more honest about it.

But again, as a Princess, fear would only slow you down and Malleus wouldn’t want a wife as fragile as that. You have to keep your plans for marriage as safe as possible, you can’t afford to lose! You can’t let it get in your way, it was your destiny to marry one of the strongest wizards in Twisted Wonderland after all. You have the qualifications, your whole nations rests around your shoulders.

...Though, unfortunately, it is also the destiny that you had come to fear the most.

Here’s the challenge I gave myself about Birthday Crums (or Yume Crumbs in general) : They have to be like, birthday themed lol and Yume has to make sure that they won’t be as long as a Sinfic (*´꒳`*) You know, like actual bite size pieces?

Either way, I’m bad at both, \(//∇//)\ An ask as interesting as this one could really qualify as Sinfic material, Yume was dying to write more about it, the potential, but I held back _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): FOR MALLEUS.