#stream study equal Magic

[mintydad]

Found a teacher tournament here. S.E.M time

[dumb-ster-fire]

Night Incarnate - Part 15

Azriel x OC

warnings: violence, blood, trauma, abuse

Summary: A deadly assassin and the elusive leader of Veilforged, Nyra delivers justice from the shadows, wielding starlight and darkness with lethal precision. Operating from Night's Refuge, she rescues the powerless and turns them into warriors. Whispers of her name spread through Prythian, but few know the truth-only that where justice fails, Night Incarnate rises.

Masterlist

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Feyre sat curled up on the plush couch in Rhysand’s study, a steaming cup of tea in her hands as the early morning light streamed through the windows. Rhys stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, his violet eyes distant with thought.

She had seen that look before—calculating, troubled.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind,” Feyre finally asked, “or do I have to pry it out of you?”

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before turning to her. “Last night, I went to an artifact for answers.”

Feyre straightened, already wary. “And?”

Rhys hesitated for the briefest moment before saying, “I asked about Nyra.”

Feyre’s brows knitted together. Nyra. The woman who had been a growing shadow in their world, a force lurking on the edges of everything. The assassin. The leader of Veilforged. The half-Illyrian who had somehow accomplished in a century what Rhysand himself had struggled with for five hundred years.

She had been a topic of debate for days now, and after what Azriel had revealed that morning—that Koschei was involved, that his slavers had been planning to take fae with unique gifts from Prythian to the Continent—Feyre couldn’t deny that Nyra was more entangled in their world than they had realized.

Still, she wasn’t expecting what Rhys said next.

“The artifact told me something interesting,” Rhys continued. He met Feyre’s gaze, his expression unreadable. “It said that I may be Death Incarnate… but she is Night Incarnate.”

A beat of silence filled the study. Feyre stared at him, her grip tightening on her cup.

“It recognized her power,” she said quietly.

Rhys nodded once. “Not just her power. Her title. The one whispered across Prythian, given to her by those she has helped. Those she has saved.”

Feyre swallowed. Night Incarnate. It wasn’t just a name people had thrown around—it was true. Even magic itself recognized it.

“She’s more than we thought,” Feyre murmured.

“Much more,” Rhys agreed, his voice grave. “And I don’t know yet if that is a good thing or a bad thing.”

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The golden halls of the Day Court gleamed in the midday sun, light pouring in through the grand windows that lined the palace corridors. The warmth of the place was almost tangible, a stark contrast to the chill that still clung to Nyra’s skin from the shadows she had stepped through moments ago.

Helion’s study was open when she arrived—as if he had been expecting her.

The High Lord of Day stood behind his massive desk, adorned in robes of deep gold and white, his rich brown skin glowing under the cascading sunlight. He looked up from the book he had been reading, his amber eyes immediately darkening with interest the moment they landed on her.

“Nyra,” he purred, shutting the book with an audible snap. “To what do I owe this unexpected—yet thoroughly welcome—visit?”

Nyra smirked, sauntering forward with a grace that was equal parts lethal and alluring. “I need information,” she said smoothly, “and I figured if anyone had an archive extensive enough to be of use, it would be you.”

Helion leaned against his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest, regarding her with blatant amusement. “Flattery and business in the same breath? Be still, my heart.”

Nyra rolled her eyes. “Don’t start, Helion. This is important.”

His grin widened, but he straightened, sensing the weight in her tone. “Alright, Shadowheart,” he said, using the name she had once let slip in conversation. “Tell me what you need.”

Nyra’s expression grew serious. “Koschei.”

The humor drained from Helion’s face immediately.

“He’s making moves,” she continued. “His slavers were trying to take fae from Prythian to the Continent. Fae with unique powers.”

Helion exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. “That’s troubling.”

“More than troubling,” Nyra corrected. “It means he’s building something.” She tilted her head, watching his reaction carefully. “I need you to go through your archives. See if there’s anything—anything at all—that can give us an edge over him.”

Helion tapped a finger against his desk, deep in thought. Then he nodded. “I’ll have my scholars begin immediately.”

“Good,” she said, turning slightly to leave—only for Helion to step into her space, his lips curving into that knowing, infuriatingly charming smirk.

“You’re leaving so soon?” His voice dipped into something low and honeyed. “You come to my court, demand my help, and you don’t even offer me a proper greeting?”

Nyra arched a brow. “I’m not the type to offer courtesies without reason.”

Helion tsked. “Lies. I distinctly recall you offering me plenty of courtesies the last time you were here.”

A wicked smile curled her lips. “And yet you still want more?”

Helion’s gaze dipped briefly to her mouth before flicking back up to meet her eyes. “Desperately,” he admitted, voice husky.

Nyra leaned in just enough that their breaths mingled. “Poor thing,” she murmured. Then, before he could react, she winnowed away in a swirl of shadows and starlight—leaving him standing there, alone, wanting.

A low chuckle rumbled from Helion’s chest as he exhaled through his nose.

“That woman,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, he summoned his scholars.

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The sound of fists meeting flesh echoed through the crisp mountain air as Azriel and Cassian sparred in the wide, open training ring. The sky was clear, the wind brisk, but Azriel barely felt the chill against his sweat-slicked skin.

Cassian lunged, throwing a brutal right hook.

Azriel dodged with ease, sidestepping and landing a sharp jab to Cassian's ribs in return.

But his movements-fluid, precise, automatic

—were driven more by instinct than actual focus.

Because his mind wasn't here.

It was still in the shadows. Still tangled in the memory of her.

Nyra.

On her knees before him. Lips soft, warm, sinful as they wrapped around him. The way she had looked up at him through those pale green eyes, pupils blown wide with hunger as her mouth worked him over with devastating skill.

The way his shadows had slipped over her skin, coiling around her as if they, too, had been enthralled by her touch.

A sharp grunt from Cassian brought him crashing back to the present just as a fist collided with his jaw.

Azriel barely registered the pain as his head snapped to the side. He staggered back a step, exhaling sharply.

"What the hell was that?" Cassian demanded, flexing his fingers from the impact. "You're distracted."

Azriel rolled his shoulders, his expression smoothing into something unreadable. "I'm fine."

Cassian snorted. "Like hell you are." He tilted his head, studying him with knowing amusement.

"Let me guess—a certain white-haired, shadow-wielding, half-Illyrian female is the reason you're not dodging like usual?"

Azriel's jaw tightened. His shadows curled around him, shifting in agitation.

Cassian's grin widened. "That's a yes."

Azriel exhaled slowly, centering himself. "Shut up and fight."

Cassian snorted. "Like hell you are." He tilted his head, studying him with knowing amusement.

"Let me guess—a certain white-haired, shadow-wielding, half-Illyrian female is the reason you're not dodging like usual?"

Azriel's jaw tightened. His shadows curled around him, shifting in agitation.

Cassian's grin widened. "That's a yes."

Azriel exhaled slowly, centering himself. "Shut up and fight."

Cassian let out a bark of laughter before lunging at him again-but even as Azriel moved, striking and blocking with expert precision, his mind continued to betray him.

Because no matter how hard he fought, no matter how much he tried to shake her from his thoughts,

Nyra was still there.

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The tension in the war room was not the usual kind—the kind that came from strategizing, debating, or planning for battle. No, this was a different kind of tension, one that hummed beneath the surface, an undercurrent of curiosity, exasperation, and thinly veiled amusement.

Mor was the first to break the silence, leaning back in her chair with a smirk as she tapped her fingers against the polished table. “Before Az gets here, we should definitely talk about what’s going on between him and Nyra.”

Cassian groaned. “You mean the thing he refuses to admit is happening?”

Mor pointed a finger at him. “Exactly.”

Feyre, seated beside Rhysand, let out a slow breath, exchanging a glance with her mate. “Are we sure there’s something happening?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew the answer.

Nesta arched a brow. “Cassian said he’s been distracted. That alone is enough proof.”

“Painfully distracted,” Cassian muttered with a grin, rubbing his jaw as if recalling the hit Azriel had taken that morning.

“And,” Mor added, eyes gleaming with mischief, “let’s not forget that night when he came back with information about Koschei.” She turned to Rhys, tilting her head. “You spoke to him first, didn’t you? You’re telling me you didn’t notice anything off about him?”

Rhysand, lounging in his chair with a knowing smirk, merely sipped his wine before setting the glass down. “Oh, I noticed.” His violet eyes glittered with amusement. “His scent was all overlaid with hers, his shadows were erratic, and he looked like a male who had been thoroughly ruined.”

Elain stiffened slightly in her seat, fingers tightening around her teacup, though she said nothing.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “And yet no one asked him directly?”

“Would he even answer?” Feyre mused.

“No,” Cassian and Mor said in unison.

Amren, who had been silent up until now, sighed heavily and crossed her arms. “I don’t particularly care about Azriel’s sex life, but if it’s affecting his judgment, then we should be concerned.”

“That’s the thing,” Mor said. “It’s not just physical. You all saw the way he looks at her. Shadows practically melt off him when he’s near her. He goes to her, trusts her in a way he doesn’t with most people. And for a male like Azriel? That’s… significant.”

Cassian huffed. “I asked him if something was going on. He told me to shut up and fight.”

Mor grinned. “That’s as close to a confession as we’re gonna get.”

Nesta, unimpressed, turned to Rhysand. “And you? What do you think?”

Rhys smirked, swirling his wine. “I think Azriel is in deeper than he realizes.”

Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open.

Azriel entered, his expression unreadable as his sharp gaze swept over the room. His shadows curled lazily around him, as if sensing the topic of conversation.

The room went silent.

Azriel paused, scanning their faces. “…What?”

Mor bit back a laugh. “Oh, nothing. We were just talking about you.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring in them. “About what, exactly?”

Rhys leaned forward, propping his chin on his fist, his smirk widening.

“About Nyra.”

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Azriel’s entire body went still. His hazel eyes, usually unreadable, flickered with something sharp—something dangerous.

“Nyra?” His voice was carefully neutral, but his shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, betraying him.

Mor, ever the instigator, grinned as she leaned forward. “Oh, you know. How you go to her. How you came back the other night looking like you’d just had the best time of your life. How your shadows seem to melt when she’s near.” She tilted her head. “Shall I go on?”

Azriel’s expression didn’t change. “You could,” he said evenly. “But I’d still ignore you.”

Cassian snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, Az. Even you have to admit something is happening between you two.”

“She’s a valuable ally,” Azriel said smoothly. “Her intelligence, skills, and network—”

“Bullshit.” Mor rolled her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone, Shadowsinger.”

Rhysand chuckled, sipping his wine as he watched. Studied. As if cataloging every twitch of Azriel’s fingers, every flicker of shadow that revealed too much.

Nesta leaned back, unimpressed. “So you expect us to believe that you sneaking off to be with her—multiple times—means nothing?”

Azriel’s jaw ticked. His gaze flickered to Rhys. “I assume this conversation isn’t about my personal life but about Koschei?”

Rhys smirked but didn’t press further. “For now.”

Elain had been silent the whole time. Sitting in the corner, hands curled around her teacup, watching. But Azriel didn’t look at her—not once.

Feyre, sensing the shift in mood, straightened. “Let’s focus on Koschei, then. What else do we know about his movements?”

Azriel, grateful for the change in subject, exhaled slowly and recounted what he and Nyra had learned the night before—the truth about the fae who were meant to be taken to the Continent.

But even as he spoke, even as the conversation turned to strategy and war, his thoughts kept drifting.

To the way Nyra had looked at him before she vanished into shadows.

To the way her lips had felt against his cheek.

To the way his shadows had melded with hers—like they had always belonged together.

No matter how much he tried to push it down, to bury it beneath logic and duty, there was no denying it.

Something was happening between him and Nyra.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

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The war room had emptied, the scent of tension still lingering in the air. Rhysand stood by the window, swirling his wine, his violet eyes thoughtful as he watched the Sidra’s calm waters.

Amren, ever perceptive, didn’t bother with pleasantries as she strolled to his side. “So,” she said, voice smooth as a blade, “are you going to admit it, or shall I spell it out for you?”

Rhys took a slow sip, not looking at her. “Admit what, exactly?”

Amren huffed, folding her arms. “The pull between Nyra and Azriel. It’s there, whether you want to acknowledge it or not.”

A slow, knowing smirk curled Rhys’s lips. “Is it?”

Amren’s silver eyes narrowed. “You know damn well it is.”

Rhys set his glass down with intentional care. “And?”

Amren let out a short, humorless laugh. “And you don’t seem remotely concerned.” She tilted her head, watching him closely, the way a cat watches a mouse before it pounces. “I wonder why that is.”

Rhys turned to her fully now, his expression unreadable. “Enlighten me.”

Amren smiled, sharp and knowing. “You think that if Azriel gets involved with Nyra, she’ll be easier to control.”

Rhys didn’t react. Didn’t blink.

Amren prowled closer. “You think she’ll become an ally—a true ally—if she lets Azriel in. That perhaps, with him at her side, she’ll be more likely to bend when the time comes. More malleable. More… predictable.”

Rhys’s smirk remained. But there was something behind it now. A quiet, simmering calculation.

“Tell me, Amren,” he mused, voice light, “do you truly think Nyra can be controlled?”

Amren studied him for a long moment, as if trying to peel back the layers of his mind.

Finally, she said, “No. But I think you believe she can be.”

Rhys chuckled, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit.”

“I give you exactly as much as you deserve.” Amren’s eyes glinted. “Be careful, Rhys. You might think you’re playing a game with Nyra, but if you’re not careful—she might be playing one with you.”

Rhysand only smiled. Time would tell.

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The war table in Nyra’s office was surrounded by her most trusted commanders—Sylus, Dravien, Kyra, and Elara. The map before them was littered with markers, routes of Koschei’s growing influence, safe houses, and ongoing missions. The air was thick with the scent of ink, parchment, and the ever-present steel of weapons.

Nyra leaned forward, hands braced against the table. Her pale green eyes flickered with something cold. Calculating. Unyielding.

“We have an ace,” she said, voice smooth, edged with quiet command. “Bryaxis.”

Dravien let out a low whistle. “Shit. If the shadows themselves choose to side with us, I’d say that’s an advantage.”

Kyra tapped a finger against her chin, golden eyes sharp with thought. “That kind of power will make even the most arrogant High Lords hesitate.”

Elara nodded. “And Koschei? He’s not the only one lurking in the dark.”

Nyra’s gaze darkened. “No. He isn’t.”

A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken history.

Nyra exhaled. “And that’s why, if it comes down to it, we might work with Rhysand.”

Sylus crossed his arms, icy blue eyes unreadable. “But never under him.”

“Never under him,” Nyra confirmed, voice like iron wrapped in silk.

A beat of silence.

Then Dravien snorted. “He’s going to hate that.”

Kyra smirked. “He’ll have to live with it.”

But Elara—Elara was watching Nyra closely. “You don’t trust him.”

Nyra’s expression was unreadable, but her voice? Unforgiving.

“I don’t forget,” she said softly. “I don’t forget how many Illyrian females still suffer in the camps. The misogyny. The mistreatment. The clipping of wings.”

Sylus’s jaw tightened. He knew. They all did.

Nyra continued, “He’s ruled for centuries, and what has truly changed? His progress is too slow. The High Lord of Night talks about Velaris as a sanctuary—but only for those he deems worthy.” She scoffed. “How many still suffer outside its borders? How many never get a chance to step foot in his precious city?”

Dravien’s voice was softer this time. “You lived it.”

A muscle in Nyra’s jaw twitched. The Illyrian war camps. Her mother. The first ten years of her life spent in a place that tried to break her.

“Yes,” she said. “I lived it.”

Another silence.

Then Sylus leaned forward, voice resolute. “Then we keep doing what we’ve always done.”

Nyra nodded. “We do. Koschei is moving. But our missions don’t stop. We keep rescuing those in need. We keep giving them a choice. We keep fighting—not just against the monsters in the dark, but against the ones who wear crowns and call themselves rulers.”

A pause.

Then Dravien grinned, sharp and wicked. “That was a damn good speech, Nyra.”

Kyra smirked. “I expect nothing less.”

Elara simply placed a hand over her heart in mock reverence. “Our Night Incarnate.”

Sylus chuckled under his breath. “I take it we’re not sleeping much in the coming weeks?”

Nyra’s lips curved into something darkly amused. “Did we ever?”

A chorus of grins and smirks.

Then, as if summoned by the sheer weight of their purpose, the candles flickered, and shadows curled around Nyra’s shoulders like an embrace.

The battle was coming. And Veilforged would be ready.

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Nyra stood on one of the highest balconies of Night’s Refuge, the wind weaving through her white hair, the scent of pine and cold air filling her lungs. The night stretched endlessly above her, stars gleaming like shattered diamonds across the vast darkness. It should have been comforting. It always had been.

But tonight… tonight, her mind was not on the stars.

It was on him.

Azriel.

His name whispered through her thoughts like a shadow slipping through cracks.

Her fingers curled around the stone railing, knuckles tight. What they had done in her office—the way she had taken him apart, the way he had surrendered to her touch—she felt it still. A ghost of pleasure, a reminder of the pull that existed between them. Ancient. Relentless. Unyielding.

She swallowed, hating the uncertainty.

What was this?

Lust? Desire? The way his shadows tangled with hers, as if they had always known one another?

Something more?

Her jaw tightened. Rhysand would have taken notice of it. Of course he would have.

She knew him.

And she knew men like him.

The pull between her and Azriel was a weapon. One that Rhysand might very well try to wield.

Nyra had spent centuries making sure no one—not her sire, not the High Lords, not any male—held chains around her throat. But Azriel’s loyalty to Rhysand, to his court, was absolute.

If it came down to it… If Rhysand tried to use Azriel to sway her, to control her…

What would Azriel do?

Would he yield to his High Lord’s will?

Would he betray her?

No.

Not him.

Nyra exhaled slowly, eyes flicking up to the constellation her mother had once pointed at.

The Starlight Weaver.

“Shadowheart,” her mother had called her once.

She had not survived all these years by being foolish. By being blind.

Nyra had always known that power was a game of manipulation, of strategy, of knowing where and when to strike. She had spent centuries ensuring she would never be someone’s pawn again.

Azriel was the first person in a long, long time to make her question.

To make her wonder.

But no matter what this pull between them was, no matter how her body still ached with the memory of him—she would not be used.

Not by Rhysand.

Not by Azriel.

Not by anyone.

And if the day came where Azriel had to choose between his High Lord and her…

She already knew where she stood.

Nyra’s green eyes burned in the dark, and with one last glance at the stars, she vanished into the shadows.

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taglist: @fuckingsimp4azriel , @paige0103 (dm or comment to be added)

[newtabfics]

first kiss for redeemed ganny and y/n? TT_TT

So I've thought about this one for a bit and it kinda goes in line with the 'confession' part as in it's set sometime after that. like they understand their feelings but haven't made the final leap yet.

Y/N sighed as she stared at the journal before ultimately closing it. Rubbing her face, she tried to clear her head of the memories of the Depths.

"She is mine."

She shook her head, face flushing at the memory of his words. The way he stared down the Yiga before looking at her, as though trying to dissuade any fear she'd had.

"Which one of you was it?"

His anger when he truly saw the bruise on her jaw from where she'd been hit.

"I'm glad to have you back alive," his sigh whispered in the back of her mind as she stood.

"I need air," She muttered, stepping outside her home. Kakariko village was busy as always, with researchers running about and older folks working on their crops.

Grandma Mellie's head perked up as she walked past, smiling at the woman and waving. Behind her, she could see Ganondorf helping with the garden, tending to it under the old woman's instruction.

Her gaze fixed on him long enough to make him feel watched as he looked up and smiled, nodding to her.

Y/N's face went red as she waved before continuing on.

The Gerudo frowned, watching her. "You love her," Mellie chuckled, startling him. "Interesting. The Demon King and the Sheikah. Never would've thought I'd see that."

"It will never happen," He said firmly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"I'm not at liberty to experience such things," he said simply. 

Mellie hummed as she studied him. He had refocused on his task, clearly not willing to accept the idea of it. "I think you're full of it, Ganondorf.'

He blinked at that, looking at the old woman as she studied her plum trees. "Love is a strange thing. It doesn't allow you to choose your liberties. Your heart knows best."

"My heart wanted to kill everyone in sight," Ganondorf grumbled, earning a soft whack to the back of his head. "Hey!"

"And yet. Somehow, despite this quote-unquote, magic amnesia, you found yourself desiring the woman who has done nothing but treat you as an equal. I think it's safe to say the intentions are pure."

He weighed her words and nodded. "Even so…" he hesitated to say this before sighing. "Even if I were to pursue her, I am unsure of how. It's been well over a hundred thousand years. If I ever pursued anyone, I doubt I could now."

"Based on what?"

"How would I court her properly?" He asked, looking at her. At her wheezing laugh, he sighed in defeat, looking away.

"Apologies. It's just, that you really must be lost in your own head if you ever thought Y/N cared for formality. She only became friends with the princess because of her personality." Mellie sighed out the last of her laugh as she studied the garden. "I think you've done enough today. Whether or not you decide to pursue her makes no difference to me, but don't hurt her. She's a strange girl but a good one. You'd make a cute couple."

Ganondorf's cheeks warmed as he nodded, getting up and looking around. Mellie nodded to the stream, letting him clean his hands in the water before leaving.

He aimed for the leader's home as he always did to report in when Y/N wasn't in charge of him. He saw her up by the device dispenser and gulped thickly, watching her.

They hadn't spoken much, if at all, since they left the Depths. Her usual bubbly attitude seemed exhausted by everything. He couldn't fault her for it though, as three days between his arrival and her vanishing would likely exhaust anyone.

He shook the thoughts of her being taken from his head. Likely, if he dwelled on it, he might act irrationally.

Paya greeted him as he entered, listening to his report of the day. "Alright. You're dismissed," she said simply, surprising him. At his hesitance, she looked at him and sighed. "Go find Y/N. If anything, make sure she doesn't get into any trouble."

Y/N studied the dispenser, dropping a Construct horn in to earn a balloon. She blushed as she remembered the way Ganondorf held her and shook her head.

"Quit," She sighed, putting away the strange device as she walked towards the chasm nearby. She only wanted to observe the area around her and take a moment of peace. She hadn't expected as she stared down into the deep darkness to have a hand pull her quickly away. 

Turning, she saw Ganondorf's worried expression. "Oh, hey."

"Why were you standing so close?" He scolded. "What if you'd fallen?" At her shrug, he sighed. His hand was still on her shoulder, as though letting her go might cause her to tumble down. "Are you…alright?"

"Yeah, why?" She asked as her heart hammered again. She blushed and looked away, staring pointedly at the edge.

After a beat of silence, Ganondorf finally said, "I worry about you. You're practically a magnet for danger because of your innate curiosity."

"Not my fault everything interesting is a danger to me," she said, smiling softly. She flinched when a loud crack of thunder above them made them stop and look up seconds before the downpour began. "Wha–Woo!" She squeaked when he hurried her under the scaffolding for shelter. "Thanks."

"I don't want you sick again," He hummed, looking toward the village. He thought of what would be the best route to get her home quickly before hearing her soft sigh. Looking over, she sat on the ground, lounging as the storm rumbled. Amending, he sat beside her. "Y/N…I…"

Y/N studied him for a moment before moving closer to him. "I think I might love you," She finally said, making him flinch. "And, we don't have to do anything about it unless you want to. I just…think you're interesting."

Ganondorf smirked at that. "And a danger to you," He added before frowning. "Which is why…I hesitate. Should my memory return…and my power, I don't know what I'll do. If I'll hurt you. If I'll save you."

"You mean if your old self will just kill me."

"Stop saying every dark thought outloud," He snorted.

"Well, why wouldn't I? It's the truth, and what you were thinking. You're scared that…your past will kill me. I get it," She admitted. Biting her lip, she adjusted and cupped his face, making him look at her. "What if I said I don't care? That, I'm willing to take the risk?"

Ganondorf gulped as the tiny Hylian stilled. She was letting him choose. He reached up and cradled her hand.

It was at this moment that Farosh dipped its head down, studying them. Y/N was unaware of it as Ganondorf leaned closer. The dragon seemed to purr in approval before pulling away.

It was all he needed. Thinking back on it, it truly felt like a blessing from the dragon of courage as his lips touched hers.

The rain clouded their moment from the world and allowed them the moment to simply be.

[mareenavee]

Last Lines Tag

Hi! I was tagged by @greyborn2 and @archangelsunited to share the last lines of a few WIPS. I do have some of those!

tagging the amazing and wonderful @paraparadigm, @changelingsandothernonsense, @tallmatcha, @thana-topsy, @thequeenofthewinter, @dirty-bosmer, @gilgamish, @snippetsrus, @elfinismsarts, @rainpebble3, @rhiannon1199 and an honorary tag to @kookaburra1701 in case another WIP snuck up on you while you weren't looking (:

Without further ado, small tiny snippets below the cut! 5 active, 1 inactive, with two more collabs in planning stages and too many more of my own with plans but no words yet.

So not quite as unhinged a deal with the Daedric Prince of Unfinished WIPs as KB has going(💖), but a deal nevertheless.

(The thing about that Daedric Prince is She always wants more words, but never grants more time, sigh.)

From Chapter 29 of The World on Our Shoulders:

Teldryn carefully placed everything he carried on their desk, content to be ignored and eavesdrop. Neloth was explaining something he’d been able to puzzle out — he pointed at a rough diagram depicting a cross section of a skull and brain. Unnerving, but nothing anyone who’d studied Restoration wouldn’t have seen before. Nyenna reached out and touched his wrist without looking up from Neloth’s notes. It was a silent thanks, or perhaps a reassurance. He could see the set of her shoulders; the conversation was stressing her out in equal measure to how much it calmed Neloth.

From an Untitled (so far) Sequel to Little Dragon:

Teldryn heard the crackling of Magicka being pulled over the sound of the Familiar – soft, like embers on a log. He turned, and watched as Anisa, cheek still pressed to the bench where she sprawled, curly hair cascading down, untucked her arm from underneath herself and lazily cast Magelight with a small grumble. Shalnouada reached up and scooped the ball of light into its mouth in smooth, practiced movements. The Magelight passed through it, causing its body to glow a myriad colors, throwing glittering light across the walls and ceiling. The happy chittering of mudcrabs filled the room. Teldryn blinked in shock, then ran his palm over his face. He cast another instance of Magelight and pushed it toward the spectral crab. Its eyestalks rotated, locking onto its food source. Again, faster than anything, it scooped the magic up into its mouth, then made a contented sound as the glittering erupted and faded, just like before.

*Shalnouada = Dunmeris for River Spirit (Shaln (Spirit) + Ouada (River))

From Darkest Before the Dawn (A Varlais extra chapter):

Varlais jumped back as it expelled a stream of bile and blood. Ancarion had resummoned his Atronach, which crashed into the side of the dragon’s head with the full force and weight of its whole body. There was a sickening snap, likely somewhere in the beast’s neck. It was just a beast, after all. It had to be. Its bones still broke the same as everything else’s.

From Recurse, an upcoming Ondolemar fic for a prompt challenge:

He thought back to the revelations the odd Dwemer machine had given him. Each moment was recursive, trying to tell him something, puzzle pieces clicking into place. Things he’d forgotten, or not seen in the right frame of mind.  It could have been a blessing, had things not already been so complicated.

Untitled Sideways Sequel to World, featuring Athis:

"Think of it like this," Farkas started. He paused and tapped the edge of his fist against his forehead. Athis snorted. Farkas grinned, but squeezed his eyes closed. "We'll be founding members of a new guild, kinda, right? And I know how much you hate vampires. It'll be fun to bring a bunch of 'em down. You won't have to think about, well, all of this. We'll be too busy." Optimistic, really. Athis did appreciate it, though. He looked over at his friend and managed a half-smile. "That's the idea, Farkas," he said. Farkas nodded and grinned widely and returned to his task. "I miss Nyenna, too, though," Farkas said after a moment. "A lot, actually." He pulled a long piece of grass taught and carefully braided together another ridiculously tiny row. "I'm sorry it all fell apart like this. It wasn't fair. But I'm with you, whatever you want to do." Athis looked at his friend who pointedly did not look back up from his work. This time it was the right thing to say. He felt marginally better. Maybe just halfway not as alone as before. He sighed again. "No turning back now, I suppose," he said with a shrug. "We'll be at the fort in no time at all."

and BONUS! The last lines of my writing from a secret, untitled prompt fill collab I'm writing with @changelingsandothernonsense.

You cannot stop it no matter how you rail. No matter how hard you pull back against destiny. You scream, and once again, the sound is lost to the Heart.  And then –  She is there, her golden skin a balm in this place of terror. She approaches, gilded form languid and graceful. Unbothered by the mountain. Untempted by the heart. She is real, and she is not. You are not. And still she approaches.

[w-ht-w]

Third places and finding community, belonging, the opposite of loneliness.

“Belonging isn’t some magical place that you can find in your next destination,”... “It is where you feel most connected with the people around you, and that you have people who love you and that you love.”

First defined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book The Great Good Place, third places are settings a person frequents beyond their home (the first place) and work (the second place). Third places can include more traditional settings like places of worship, community and recreation centers, parks, and social clubs, but also encompass bars, gyms, malls, makeshift clubhouses in neighborhoods, and even virtual settings like Nextdoor. As Oldenburg described them, third places are great equalizers, spots where regulars of different backgrounds and perspectives can mingle in a location that is comfortable, unpretentious, and low-cost.

Even prior to the pandemic, these institutions were shuttering, according to research. As Americans spend more time alone and practice individualized forms of leisure, like marathoning television series on streaming services and passively scrolling on social platforms, they aren’t gathering communally as often as they were in decades past ...

You don’t need to take on the herculean task of making new friends to be less lonely. You may just need a third place. Simply developing acquaintance-like relationships is enough to foster feelings of belonging, studies show.

How to find your own third place

To get the most out of third places, you’ve got to find one you enjoy frequenting. Mine your interests ... to discover a location that fulfills your needs.

Immersing yourself in the culture of the space requires intentionality, consciously caring for your, and your community’s, social health. This might require some actionable changes, like dedicating time each week to spend an hour or so in a neighborhood hangout, going into a restaurant or coffee shop instead of picking up, leaving your phone in your pocket while waiting in line, engaging with people in small but meaningful ways. Don’t become discouraged if an interaction isn’t as successful as you hoped, ... To be a part of something, you must consistently show up. 

Soon enough you’ll naturally braid into the fabric of the third place; you’ll become a familiar face, a driver of conversation, a person to say hello to. In an age of loneliness, that might be one of the most powerful tools of all. (1)

Source: 1. Vox, If you want to belong, find a third place

[1800duckhotline]

I'm sorry in advance to everyone tired of me talking about salice constantly but I was thinking really hard yesterday also that if she was a bg3 companion when you get into the thorm family mausoleum, she's very reactive to rhe myrkulite offerings and straight up says something like.

"Sloppy work. Only Myrkulite fanatics could do something this indecorous. Not at all surprised." "Ugh, this is such a waste of blood and bones. An offering to Myrkul? Don't make me laugh."

She really fucking hates people who worship him because she thinks he's a false god, a flat out charlatan. her dialogue when encountering the likes of balthazar is equally spiteful because she thinks his necromancy is sloppy and imperfect as well as laughable.

With investigation checks succeeding she can also give more insight, but even if she fails one she can still comment on it.

"Even Red Wizards could do something better than this... Hm. Well, maybe not. I'm being excessively generous."

This is because salices belief of necromancy is so cemented in how her grandmother taught her of it, with it being a mix of mad science and magic. If you talk to her in the mausoleum, but also after meeting balthazar you'd be able to talk to her about it. I think you would only get this if you've at least a medium approval rating tho.

Don't make fun of my writing as I'm going off of stream of consciousness. But something like:

Tav: "You looked like you knew quite a bit of those bone sculptures in the mausoleum./You looked miffed when we spoke to Balthazar."

Salice: "Yeah? And so I did. What, you wanna know why?"

Tav: "If you want to share."

Salice: "Hmph. (pause and a sigh) Sure, why not. I'll let you in on it, only if you're going to promise me not to overreact about it."

"I'm not exactly thrilled to let everybody know my business."

Tav: "I promise. Just tell me, it might be useful to know."

Salice: "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. It's all petty business. But I'll tell you anyway."

"Truth is, I've always been very... studious when it comes to necromancy. I've studied a great deal of it when since when I was young."

"My grandmother is a necromancer. Runs in the family, skips a generation, that sort of thing. She's the one who taught me everything I would need to know when I was a little squirt."

"She wouldn't call herself a necromancer, if asked. She calls herself a researcher, a scientist. But if you ask me, she is a necromancer. I always assumed she wants to avoid the prejudice around that title."

"Long story short: she never found reliability in following the doctrine of Myrkul, warning me against it. Same goes for the necromancy practiced by the Red Wizards of Thay."

"She hates 'em both. And I do too."

Tav: "Do you really believe it? Your grandmother could've been biased for her own beenfit."

Salice: "Now, I get what you're hinting at. You say: But Salice! How would you know? She's hungry for power like every other one of them, blah blah blah. All'a that."

"She is not. You haven't seen her work. Or read her scientific reports. I did."

"So, trust me when I say that necromancy can be practiced well, with fair intentions. And that these people are complete charlatans."

"Or don't, I suppose, I don't particularly care. Like I said, petty business. Believe what you want."

"Now, you got other, perhaps serious business you want to talk about, or can we move on?"

I could go on writing fake dialogues like this forever they spin in my head perpetually. If i was in possess of such power i would make a companion mod just to put her in the fucking game but alas

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hello I'm gagged what do mean this fic ENDS I KNOW I AM SO SELFISH TO SAY IT FUCKING HELL THOUGH ON NY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING FOR MORE 😭

Again I have to start by singing you praises for the way your write. Incredible. Beautiful stunning. Its a movie love. ITS A FUCKING MOVIE I SAW IT PLAY OUT REAL TIME IN MY HEAD EVEN THOUGH ITS BEE YEARRRSS SINCE IVE SEEN ANY HARRY POTTER FILM

Now. Not to be annoying but I have to requote your work because I loved it I love you that's how it works I don't make the rules

But that didn't quite explain the bone-deep anxiety clawing through your skin.

No it does you don't want to mess up chill mama you got this

“Yeah, Bill’s not so bad. You aren't scared of us, are ‘ya? So there's no need to be scared of him,” Fred added, bumping your knee with his.

Freddie fasbear my babie boy you are so cutie but ur not very bright. This is literally like saying I'm hot my brother is also hot. No that's not how that works. I would know. I'm hot. My brothers are average at best

Bill Weasley was, objectively, terrifying. He had none of the softness of the twins, none of the jovial ease of youth. He was dressed in a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and charcoal trousers, traces of magic glittering along his forearms.

Smash. Send reblog. I'm sorry it's so stupid of me to literally just say that BUT THAT'S WHAT I GOTTA SAY I FELT IT IN MY WOMB YOU KNOW HAHAHAHAH

Standing at least a head taller than the twins, he had long copper hair and sharp cheekbones, deep scars across the left side of his face that only enhanced the striking beauty of his features. His green eyes were arresting, challenging in the way they swept across the hall before settling on you.

Blah blah blah proper noun whatever you say beautiful. I literally don't remember anything about him in the film other than the fact domhnall gleeson played him and I was immediately 😍 THE SCARSSSSSSSSS BABY WHI HURT YOU ID LIKE TO PERSONALLY THANK THEM COS GWORL YOU LOOK FOIIINNEEE

“Freddie,” Bill said, extending a hand to his younger brother with an expression you could almost call warm.

❓❓❓ a handshake for your brother???? 😭😭😭🤣 Who let this man have a meeting I'm crying

You laughed nervously. “Yeah, I suppose. Though I've studied your curse-breaking work extensively. A curse and a blessing are two sides of the same coin, and we can learn a lot about the workings of one from the other.”

When YOU SAID SHE WAS WHIP SMART I WAS LIKE INCHRESTIN NOW I SEE IT UGHHH THIS IS BEAUTIFUL I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I WANT TO SLURP THIS UP IN TO MY BRAIN

Bill’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing and skimming over your face, and suddenly you knew what it felt like to be one of his artifacts.

😳😳😳😳🫣🫣🫣🤪🤪🤪 your honor I do not know how I feel am I as a woman cursed to be ogled by a man albeit it being bill Weasley but then again he does this for a living which somehow makes it equally worse and romantic all at once. Im tryna say please let my lipstick be good I'm tryna get this man to kiss me

“Yep!” Fred and George chirped in unison, and Bill slipped back into his office. The twins gave you a big thumbs up and you gave a nervous chuckle, waving them away before following Bill into his office.

No wait don't go I love you please can I have them both and bill ☹️ idc it's all fiction anyway and the answer will always be no but I want it to be yes pls 😢 single tear streams down my face

You shook your head. “Not at all. They just needed a different perspective. They did the work themselves.”

She's so darling. BILL FUCKING FALL IN LOVE WITH HER I WILL SKIN YOUR SHINS TO MAKE A BELT

Bill shook his head, giving you an amused smile. “You already showed that your head and heart are in the right place, and I trust my brother’s judgement. If they like you this much, there must be a reason.”

SMKSJSK NOT TO BE NITPICKY IM KINDA WILLING TO BET THIS IS A TYPO BUT "BROTHER'S" INSTEAD OF "BROTHERS' " IS SO FUNNY TO ME. oh yeah I trust George but not Fred is AHHAAHHAH. IM NOT MAKING FUN OF YOU I MAKE WORSE TYPOS AND THIS IS LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE YOU HAVE EVER SO LIKE PLEASE IM NOT MAKING FUN OF YOU I PROMISE PLS KEEP BEING ENDEARED BY ME

“Aren't I?”

The three of you jumped, turning to find Bill leaning against the wall beside Rumi’s seat. He looked exceptionally handsome this morning, his hair tucked behind his ears, a single strand falling over his eyes, dressed in finely pressed white shirt and navy trousers.

YN I know exactly what you are. You 🫵you are nothing but a whooooooooooooo-

lly smart girl who got herself an amazing internship cos she slays

Fuck no, you were not developing a crush on your boss. Get it together, you chastised yourself.

Don't be an idiot like Fred's girl. They could have been getting freaky .01 secs into the fic but nooooooooo 🙄 (I'm just tryna be funny that fic still lives in my head rent free)

“Oh?” Your heart began to beat a little faster, eyes fixed not on the box containing the object, but the way his deft fingers handled it with such a care.

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

SuDDENLY IM A BOX

“So, she saw something in common that we didn't have before,” you observed, moving to jot some notes down on a piece of parchment in an attempt to stay on track despite the frustrated look on his face. “What do you see?”

RATTTTT IM GONNA SHAKE HIM PLEASE I NEED TO KNKWSS EHAT DO YOU MEAN NNNNN KMOSJNG MT MIND OLSEseen NOOOOOOOO DONNTTTT END IT LIKE THIS. cus on one hand I'm like yeah he's in love with her on the other hand that's her boss HELP ME SLEDGEHAMMER TO FRONTAL LOBE

Despite yourself, your ill-advised attraction to him only grew as he loosened up around you. But that's all it was, you told yourself over and over again. An attraction to a handsome, accomplished man.

Like I said ehh power dynamic but who the fuck am I kidding I eat this shit up in fics like chocolate eclairs. Also girlie it could be worse you could be in love with an ugly jobless bum

Oh I lost the part with 🤢waylan🤢 idk if he's a canon character but idc he's probably ugly and bald

He smirked at your pout. “Do you doubt me?”

..................................

A pulse of heat curled around your spine, warming your lower belly. “No, sir,” you replied, intending it to come across as teasing, but you saw something dark flash in his eyes, something hungry, and your heart began to race.

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO MISS MAAM DOWN BADDDDDDD

Bill paused, sensing your fear. “You can do this,” he said, offering you his hand. “I'll walk you through it.”

KDJJDJDJDJSJ TALK ME THROUGH IT

With a wave of his wand, he opened the box. The curse spilled out of it, clawing and twisted, and you immediately felt the blackness start to tug at the edge of your vision, its cold talons digging into your flesh.

Girl again you write so beautifully I see this omg I SEE IT IN MY HEAD ITS A MOVIE IN A MOVIE STARRR

“Yes, good girl! Keep going, push it all the way back into the axe.”

😃good😃girl😃 GOOD NIGHT

I cannot believe this fic ends I'm hoping praying p2 is already up if not I will be patiently waiting and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure as I do

Magic Lessons | B.W.

Part One

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Your best friends Fred and George convince their older brother, Bill, to give you a shot at a coveted curse-breaker internship position at Gringott's.

CW: age gap, boss/intern, fem!reader, reader is whip smart and sweet, dark curses and magical artifacts, men being shitty, hurt/comfort, dark academia vibes

AN: inspired by an ask I accidentally deleted (im so sorry) about Bill tutoring Fred & George's best friend. It spiraled into this.

part 2 coming soon!

“You're going to be fine,” George soothed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Yeah, Bill’s not so bad. You aren't scared of us, are ‘ya? So there's no need to be scared of him,” Fred added, bumping your knee with his.

You were sandwiched between them on a hard wooden bench in Gringott's, just outside their older brothers office, his name emblazoned in gold on the fogged door window. The twins, two of your closest friends from school, had secured you an interview for a coveted internship in the Ancient Artifacts Department, and you hadn't slept in a week leading up to it.

This was your dream job, a real stepping stone to the career you'd always imagined for yourself. You couldn't screw this up.

But that didn't quite explain the bone-deep anxiety clawing through your skin. It felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, one foot hanging into empty space.

Then, a shadow crossed the fogged mirror, tall and broad, and you shivered.

“You've got this,” George murmured at the same moment the door handle turned. It swung open, and your heart fell through the marble floor.

Bill Weasley was, objectively, terrifying. He had none of the softness of the twins, none of the jovial ease of youth. He was dressed in a white button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and charcoal trousers, traces of magic glittering along his forearms.

Standing at least a head taller than the twins, he had long copper hair and sharp cheekbones, deep scars across the left side of his face that only enhanced the striking beauty of his features. His green eyes were arresting, challenging in the way they swept across the hall before settling on you.

“Bill!” Fred said, jumping up, and Bill’s demeanor immediately shifted into something friendlier.

“Freddie,” Bill said, extending a hand to his younger brother with an expression you could almost call warm.

“Bill, this is our friend, y/n,” George said, getting up to shake his brother's hand, and you rose to your feet, hoping he didn't notice the slight tremble in your knees.

“Pleasure, y/n. I'm Bill Weasley, Head of the Ancient Artifacts Department here at Gringott's.” He extended a hand to you, calloused and long-fingered, a golden signet ring on his middle finger.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Weasley,” you said, placing your hand in his for a brief shake. He was gentle, but you could feel the undercurrent of strength in his movement, the intention he had to put towards being soft.

“Fred and George have told me a lot about you,” Bill said, glancing at his brother's. “You’re interested in Blessed Artifacts, correct?”

You nodded. “Yes, primarily magical items created with the intention of offering protection or assistance,” you answered, fighting the nervous heat climbing up your neck.

The corner of his mouth lifted, scrunching the scars across his cheek and eyebrow. “The opposite of what I do, hm?”

You laughed nervously. “Yeah, I suppose. Though I've studied your curse-breaking work extensively. A curse and a blessing are two sides of the same coin, and we can learn a lot about the workings of one from the other.”

Bill’s expression shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing and skimming over your face, and suddenly you knew what it felt like to be one of his artifacts.

No wonder he never crossed a curse he couldn't break.

“Step into my office, I have a few questions before we discuss terms of the internship. I'll see you two this weekend at the Burrow, yeah?”

“Yep!” Fred and George chirped in unison, and Bill slipped back into his office. The twins gave you a big thumbs up and you gave a nervous chuckle, waving them away before following Bill into his office.

It was nothing at all like you expected. Two enormous windows filled the back wall, spilling grey light across the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along the left wall. The shelves were overflowing with tomes and littered with artifacts, more than you'd ever seen outside for a museum or Dumbledore’s office. They perfumed the air with the scent of parchment and sandalwood, the warm musk of incense.

The carpet was plush under your feet, a mesmerizing pattern of deep maroon and teal, and overstuffed furniture rested against the right wall, a couch and two arm chairs framed by more loaded shelves and a gallery wall of shifting art.

But most surprising was his desk. It looked like it belonged in a research tent in the desert, not a gold-plated bank. It was covered in tools and stacks of paper, open books and deconstructed items, half-drank mugs of tea and a spilled ink pot.

“You look surprised,” he mused, following your eye.

“I didn't realize you still did field research,” you admitted sheepishly. “Now that you're head of the department.”

Bill shrugged, grabbing a mug and a stack of papers from the table and gesturing to the furniture against the wall. “I prefer the hands-on approach. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, no thank you,” you answered, sinking into one of the arm chairs. It was so comfortable, you had to force yourself to sit upright. You could smell his cologne on the leather, vetiver and black pepper, and it made your chest warm.

He sat in the other armchair, bracing an ankle on the opposite knee. “So, how did you come to befriend my brother's?” He asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Fred needed some help in Charms,” you said, crossing your legs. “Then George needed help in Potions. And we just worked well together. They're good friends.

“So you're the reason they didn't flunk out, hm?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. They just needed a different perspective. They did the work themselves.”

Bill nodded, shuffling the papers in his lap. “Have you ever worked with curses directly? Beyond Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

You shook your head. “I don't have a lot of experience with curses, but I can read magic well, and have an eye for detail. I know I'm not the most qualified of the candidates you've probably met with, but this is my dream, and it would be such an honor to learn from the best— ”

“It's alright, y/n,” Bill stopped you with a small shake of his head, his low voice demanding acquiescence. “You're clearly bright, and determined to learn. That's more valuable to me than anything else.”

You exhaled in relief. “I appreciate that, Mr. Weasley,” you said, offering a small smile.

“Bill,” he corrected. “Bill is fine.”

Your heart gave an excited thump, and you nodded.

“So, for this internship, you'd be working directly with me, mostly archiving artifacts as they come in and out of the bank. You'll be spending a lot of time here and in the vaults. The pay isn't great, but if you do well over the six months term, there's potential for full-time employment.” He passed a contract to you, a quill floating over from his desk and into your hand. “And you're welcome to conduct supervised independent research whenever there's downtime.”

You blinked, shocked at the employment contract in your lap. “You don't—you don't have any more questions for me?” You asked.

Bill shook his head, giving you an amused smile. “You already showed that your head and heart are in the right place, and I trust my brother’s judgement. If they like you this much, there must be a reason.”

“I—thank you, sir,” you said, a grin breaking through as you signed your name on the line. The ink blazed gold before settling back to black, the contract magically binding.

Bill rose, extending a hand to help you to your feet. “Welcome aboard, y/n.”

The first few days of your internship were spent with members of Bill’s team, taking lengthy tours of Gringotts and the Archives. You quite liked Rumi and Kira, two of the lead archivists, but had a difficult time with Waylan, the Collector, as they called him, who seemed to have it out for you.

You waited with bated breath for your first project with Bill, but you'd barely seen him since you started. You brought it up to Kira at breakfast one morning, and she chuckled.

“He's around, I promise. Hardly goes anywhere else. But we usually only see him if he needs something.”

“Or when we fuck something up,” Rumi added, and you chuckled.

Kira rolled her eyes. “They're being dramatic. Bill's not nearly as scary as he looks.”

“Aren't I?”

The three of you jumped, turning to find Bill leaning against the wall beside Rumi’s seat. He looked exceptionally handsome this morning, his hair tucked behind his ears, a single strand falling over his eyes, dressed in finely pressed white shirt and navy trousers.

“Well you are when you sneak up on people!” Rumi laughed, and Bill cracked a smile.

“Apologies, mate. Y/n, ready for your first assignment?” His eyes met yours, brilliant as polished jade, and your tongue forgot how to function.

“Oh, uh, yes, sir!”

“Sir?” Kira snorted. “Are we supposed to call you ‘sir’?”

Bill shook his head. “I’d rather you didn't, but maybe you could use a lesson in manners from this one,” he teased, stealing Kira’s croissant. “Come along, fledgling,” he said, his deep voice resonant and rough around the edges.

The nickname jolted through you like a lightning strike, heating your blood to a simmer, and you nearly gasped, hiding your reaction by taking a final swig of breakfast tea.

Fuck no, you were not developing a crush on your boss. Get it together, you chastised yourself.

You got to your feet and hurried after him through the dining hall and into the wrought iron elevator. He held the door for you as you scurried in. The grate rolled shut, and the machine heaved off the ground with a metallic groan.

“Glad to you see you're getting along with the team,” he remarked, eyes trained up to watch the pulley system.

“Yes, they've been very welcoming,” you said, resisting the urge to stare at the hard angle of his jaw, the reddish stubble dusting it and spreading down his throat.

“There's a lot they can teach you. They're some of the best in the business,” he said, glancing down at you as the elevator came to stop. The doors rolled open and he strolled out, his long legs taking him a third of the way down the hall before you managed to get your knees to unlock.

You caught up to him at his office door. “What are we working on?” You asked, excitement building as you followed him to his desk.

He moved around it, stopping in front of a black velvet box. Carefully, he lifted the lid. “Waylan brought this back last month, and I hadn't been able to crack it until our meeting.”

“Oh?” Your heart began to beat a little faster, eyes fixed not on the box containing the object, but the way his deft fingers handled it with such a care.

He turned the box around, revealing a stunning necklace, dripping with black sapphires and diamonds, the chain a thick and luscious gold.

You gasped, covering your mouth. It was the most beautiful piece of jewelry you'd ever seen.

He smiled at your reaction before catching himself, returning to neutral, if a bit curious, expression. “I hadn't considered that it might be a blessed object until our conversation.” He gingerly lifted the necklace from the box, the luxurious stones creating a stark contrast against his laborers hands. “And if I read the magical signature correctly, it should be a chameleon charm. To make any spectator see what they want to see in the wearer.” He came around behind you and you lost your breath, his closeness overwhelming your senses.

There was something about him that tilted the axis of the world, bending everything to center around him. He had his own gravity, his own magnetic force that you were struggling to resist.

“May I?” He asked, and you nodded, holding your breath as the cool stones kissed your clavicle, his fingertips ghosted the edge of your throat.

With a small click, the necklace was fastened around your neck. You could feel the magic in it, warm and buzzing as it spread through you.

Bill stepped away, moving back around to your front, and his brow furrowed.

“What? Did I grow a horn?” You joked, trying to dispel the tension winding tighter between you.

He shook his head, stepping back to ring a silver bell by his desk, a small plaque reading ‘Kira’ beneath it. There was one for each of you, you noticed.

A moment later, Kira walked in. “What's up, boss? Oh, did you change, y/n? I absolutely love that designer in Hogsmeade. His work is stunning,” Kira praised. “Sorry, can I help with something?” She said, turning to Bill.

Bill’s frown deepened as his eyes skimmed over you. “That'll be all, Kira. Thank you.”

“Oh, uh, okay. Let me know if you want to go shopping sometime, y/n!” She said before stepping back out of the office.

“So, she saw something in common that we didn't have before,” you observed, moving to jot some notes down on a piece of parchment in an attempt to stay on track despite the frustrated look on his face. “What do you see?”

“You can take it off. I need you to decode the magic signature yourself, archive the piece and charm accordingly, and see if you can replicate it on something else,” he directed, turning away and rustling through some pages on his desk.

“Sure, no problem.” Carefully, you unclasped the necklace and set it into its velvet case, confused by his sudden shift in demeanor, both the absence of the necklaces magic and his sudden distance leaving you cold.

What did he see in you?

He conjured another chair for you and sank into his own, turning his attention to what appeared to be a wooden horse.

Uncertain, you sat down and pulled the necklace towards you, along with the parchment and a quill, and got to work.

The uncertainty dissolved as the minutes turned to hours, both of you working quietly side by side to solve your own puzzles. The only sounds were the rustling of papers and scratch of quills, the soft music playing from a record player in the corner, and you felt a wave of peace settle over you.

Being able to work at your own pace, in a quiet, peaceful environment was all you'd ever wanted. And finally, you felt like you found a place that allowed that.

You glanced over at Bill, finding him scribbling something with his black feather quill, completely zeroed in on his task, and you felt a rush of gratitude for him, and a determination to ensure he didn't regret his decision to take a chance on you.

You turned back to the necklace, eager to uncover it's secrets.

The rest of your first two weeks passed the same way, you and Bill with your heads bowed, working on separate projects. He'd come over periodically to check your work, but mostly left you to your own devices unless you needed help, which he provided without judgement or reservation.

You and Bill seemed to work together well, both of you preferring the quiet so you could focus, with the occasional conversation about your findings during your lunch break or afternoon tea.

Despite yourself, your ill-advised attraction to him only grew as he loosened up around you. But that's all it was, you told yourself over and over again. An attraction to a handsome, accomplished man.

You were only human, after all. Who could blame you?

On Friday, Bill had a meeting with the Board and left you in his office to work. You were more than happy to occupy his space, enjoying the comfortable quiet as you reviewed your notes on the artifact you were working on.

A knock pulled you from your work. Waylan walked through the door, a long, thin wooden box in his arms.

“Oh, hey Waylan,” you said, getting up. “Bill is in a meeting—”

“I know, but this can't wait.” He dropped the long box onto the desk with a thud, scattering your meticulously organized notes, and a prickle of irritation climbed the back of your neck.

“What is it?” You asked, already sensing the dark energy permeating off of the box.

With a pry bar, Waylan cracked open the box, a putrid smell wafting out of it.

“Are you sure we should be doing this here? Surely a vault would be safer—”

“It's fine,” he snapped, and you cracked your jaw shut, irritation growing to full on anger. “This is a cursed executioners axe,” he said. “And the curse needs to be broken now.”

“Waylan, surely—”

“I thought you were qualified?” He bit. “Isn't that why you got the job? Or was it because your friends with his brothers?”

You grit your teeth. “What's the nature of the curse?”

“You tell me.”

You moved to look at the axe, it's blade dark and stained with gore, the handle black wood. Tiny notches decorated it's expanse, and your stomach turned imagining what each notch represented.

Carefully, you held your hand over it, coaxing the magic to reveal itself, but couldn't focus properly with Waylan breathing down your neck, the magic slithering through your fingers like a sieve.

Suddenly the room went dark, all the light and air sucked from the world around you until you were staring into the void, cold dread dripping down your spine.

“Waylan?” You called, fighting the urge to panic. You tried to lift your arms to feel around, but found that you couldn't move. “Waylan?!” You cried, a little louder.

Something white, a delicate, vaguely human shaped mist floated by you and you screamed, unable to move away from it. Then another appeared, slightly more formed like a person, then another, until you were surrounded by spirits. Terror split your skull, your heart pounding so hard it made your vision shake.

“No, please,” you croaked, fighting your body to move even an inch away from them. “Let me go!” You shouted, but they only moved closer. “Let me go!”

Suddenly you slammed back into your body, the bright light of the room blinding you. You were on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Bill was leaning over you, his mouth moving like he was speaking.

“—m’right here, you're alright. It was just a trick, just a little curse. Wake up, love. Come back to me,” he murmured. “There we are, that's it,” he shushed when you began to shake, his grip tightening on your shoulders when you tried to sit up.

Your body was still tingling with numbness, nerves prickling painfully back to life. “Bill,” you gasped, clinging to him as you came fully back to consciousness.

“Are you alright? Does anything hurt?” He asked, helping you sit up slowly, one hand braced on the slope of your ribcage, the other supporting your head.

“No, no. I--what happened?” you asked, looking around the room. You noticed Waylan then, also prone on the floor, eyes staring wide at the ceiling. It seemed Bill made no effort to wake him up.

Bill glanced at Waylan as well, shaking his head. “He was trying to scare you. Prove you didn't deserve the position. And apparently was too stupid to realize the curse would affect him too.”

“Will he—”

“He'll be fine. Are you okay?” He repeated, catching your eye so you'd look at him.

You nodded. “I think so.”

Waylan groaned, stirring on the carpet, and you saw a flicker of anger in Bill’s eyes.

“Wait for me in the lobby,” he said, helping you to your feet. “I'll deal with him.” There was no question in his words, and you obeyed without thought, collecting your things and slipping out of the room.

As the elevator doors started to close, you heard Bill shout, “I should have you sent to fucking Azkaban for pulling—” The groan of the machine cut off the rest of his words.

You did as you were told and waited in the lobby for Bill, busying yourself with people watching and admiring the expansive marble floors.

Twenty minutes later, Bill appeared from one of the elevators, holding Waylan by the scruff of his neck, a box of his stuff in his arms. You jumped up, alarmed when a few security guards rushed over to them.

“Waylan is no longer permitted on the premises, my orders. I discovered him tampering with curses,” Bill directed. “He's a threat to Gringott’s security.”

Your jaw dropped when the security guards nodded and dragged Waylan away without question, effectively tossing him out onto the street of Diagon Alley.

Bill stepped up beside you, concern over your frowning face drawing his brows together. “What is it?” He asked.

“Did you—you fired him?” you stammered.

“Absolutely. I can't have someone on my staff that doesn't take curses seriously. It puts us all at risk,” he said, without an ounce of hesitation.

You nodded, you supposed that made sense.

He started walking, beckoning you to follow with two fingers, and you fell into step beside him. “Come on, I'm going to teach you how to dispel that curse.”

You froze. “What?”

He turned to look at at you. “You heard me, fledgling. I need to make sure something like this won't happen again.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, and you found yourself yielding despite your trepidation. “I'll be with you the entire time, okay?” He said, a bit softer when you returned to his side.

“And if we both get knocked out?” You scowled.

He smirked at your pout. “Do you doubt me?”

A pulse of heat curled around your spine, warming your lower belly. “No, sir,” you replied, intending it to come across as teasing, but you saw something dark flash in his eyes, something hungry, and your heart began to race.

Surely you imagined it, you told yourself as the two of you descended into the vaults. There was no way you could be affecting Bill the same way he was affecting you. He was Bill Weasley, and you were just some intern that got a lucky break. He would never be interested in you, not to mention how wrong it would be for a boss to be romantically involved with his subordinate.

So, why did that thought make your pulse spike?

He guided you to a private vault, the heavy door unlocking with a wave of his hand. The inside was dank and poorly lit, permeated with that same rotten smell as before. The axe rested on a table at the center of the room, encased in glass.

You hesitated at the door, that cold, deathly sensation crawling over your skin again.

Bill paused, sensing your fear. “You can do this,” he said, offering you his hand. “I'll walk you through it.”

You placed your hand on his, focusing on his warmth, his steadiness, as he led you into the vault.

“You can feel it, right? The energy of the void clinging to it?” He asked, his voice low.

You nodded. “Feels like death,” you murmured.

“That's what this curse does, makes you feel like you died. It was used by an old Ministry executioner to subdue prisoners before their deaths. Kept them from trying to escape.” He cast his eyes to the axe, a somber look on his face. “Waylan was supposed to leave it here until after my meeting. They just unearthed it this morning.”

“That's awful,” you said, finding yourself counting the notches along the handle. There had to be at least two hundred, maybe even five hundred.

“With every kill, it got stronger, until it eventually took the executioner himself. It was buried with him, until some unfortunate muggle grave robber dug it up and nearly killed himself.”

“So, how do we dispel it?” You asked, hating the tremble in your voice.

“Take your wand out,” he instructed, and you obeyed. “I'm going to open the box. Stay focused on your breathing, the ground beneath your feet. When I open the box, you'll feel it start to pull at you, to drag you under.”

You nodded, lifting your wand and squaring your shoulders, forcing your lungs to take big, deep breaths despite the rotten smell.

“Good, when you feel it pull at you, imagine your wand is an axe itself, okay? You're going to cut the tether of the curse reaching towards you. It will resist, but I promise you can do it. Ready?”

You grit your teeth. “Ready.”

With a wave of his wand, he opened the box. The curse spilled out of it, clawing and twisted, and you immediately felt the blackness start to tug at the edge of your vision, its cold talons digging into your flesh.

“You can do it, fledgling. I know you can. Fight it,” Bill encouraged, somewhere to your left.

You pushed back against the darkness, refocusing on your breathing, the stone beneath your feet, your wand at the tips of your fingers. You slashed through the air with it, imagining an axe cutting through thick, black tendrils, and suddenly the tugging sensation vanished, the blackness receding from your vision.

“Yes, good girl! Keep going, push it all the way back into the axe.”

You did, pushing with all your might against the dark magic until it began to retreat, sinking back into the blade of the axe. But it wouldn't go all the way in, resisting your quickly depleting energy, when you felt something akin to a warm breeze blow over you: Bill’s magic. It joined your efforts, making the final push to force the curse back into the axe.

“Now hold it for me. Just like that,” Bill said, moving around the room. “I'm going to try a counter curse, but it may not take. Are you ready?”

“Ready.” You nodded, a rush of excitement pulsing through you. You were actually doing it. And doing it well.

With a flourish of wand movements and a string of words you don't understand, a beam of white light blasted from the end of Bill's wand and towards the axe, blinding you.

Something gave a godawful shriek, echoing off the walls until rubble rained over your head, and you heard a thunderous snap, followed by a whoosh of screaming air.

The light suddenly vanished, leaving you and Bill alone in the dark room, silent besides your ragged breathing.

“Lumos,” Bill muttered, and the torches along the walls relit, revealing the room around you. The axe lay on its side on the table, splintered in half. The rotten smell, and the curse, were gone. The handle was now just smooth wood, no notches in sight.

You exhaled, a giddy laugh bubbling up, and Bill smiled, crossing the room to you.

“Let me see you, you alright?” He asked, taking your hands to inspect your trembling fingers. The touch sent a zing of energy under your skin. “It didn't hurt you?”

You shook your head, dizzy from his unexpected tenderness and the after effects of using so much magic. “I'm okay,” you murmured, a little breathless.

“Okay,” he said, releasing your hands, though for a second, he seemed reluctant to. “I'll clean up here. Go home and get some rest, yeah?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, dipping your chin obediently.

His eyes searched your face for a moment longer, his jaw flexing, before he nodded once and turned back to the axe, dismissing you.

You slipped out of the vault and returned to the surface, reckless hope burning in your chest.

Thanks for reading! 🫶🏻

[icilyfuturisticcauldron]

Unpacking the Phenomenon of Eternally Sought-After Waters

Water. It’s a fundamental part of life, yet certain types have captured our imagination and attention in ways that go beyond quenching thirst. From crystal-clear mountain springs to rare mineral waters, these "eternally sought-after waters" have become symbols of luxury and health. But what makes them so desirable? Let’s dive in and explore this fascinating phenomenon.

The Allure of Rare Waters

Imagine standing on a mountain peak, breathing in the crisp air while gazing at a stream of pure water flowing from beneath ancient rocks. That image alone is enough to make anyone appreciate the beauty of natural springs. Not all waters are created equal, though. Some boast unique mineral compositions that claim to offer various health benefits, while others are simply marketed as high-end luxury products.

For example, Fiji Water has built an entire brand around its source—an aquifer in Fiji surrounded by lush rainforest. This water isn’t just about hydration; it’s part of a lifestyle choice for many consumers who want to feel connected to nature or indulge in something special.

Health Benefits or Hype?

There’s no denying that some waters come with impressive claims. Mineral-rich waters from places like Vichy in France or Evian from see more the French Alps are celebrated for their purported health benefits. Research shows that minerals such as magnesium and calcium can contribute positively to your overall well-being. A study published in the Journal of Nutrition found that drinking mineral water may help lower blood pressure rates and improve bone density.

However, it’s crucial to approach these claims with a pinch of skepticism. While minerals can be beneficial, most people receive adequate nutrition through a balanced diet. So when you’re shelling out extra cash for premium water, consider whether you’re buying health benefits or just marketing hype.

The Price Tag: Is It Worth It?

Have you ever looked at the price tag on some bottled waters? You might find yourself asking if it's worth it. A bottle of artisanal spring water can cost more than some wines! But what drives this pricing phenomenon?

see more

A significant factor is branding. Companies invest heavily in packaging and storytelling to create an aura around their product. Think about it: when you buy a bottle of fancy water, you're not just purchasing H2O; you're buying into a lifestyle—a chance to feel sophisticated with every sip.

A Splash of Sustainability

As consumers become more eco-conscious, brands are adapting their practices to align with this trend. Many companies now focus on sustainable sourcing methods and eco-friendly packaging materials. For instance, some brands use glass bottles rather than click resources plastic ones to reduce environmental impact.

However, sustainability isn’t always straightforward. Extracting water from natural sources can lead to depletion issues if overdone. It raises questions about ethical sourcing and long-term consequences on ecosystems and local communities.

The Experience Matters

Beyond taste and health claims, there’s something magical about drinking water sourced from exotic locations. Many companies go the extra mile by incorporating sensory experiences into their branding strategies—think tastings that highlight flavor notes or events that celebrate their origins.

This trend reflects our desire for connection—not just with n

[kavinderrawat]

Why Wait for a Miracle? The Best Home Tuition in Dehradun is Already Here!

Have you ever looked at your child's report card and thought, "We need a miracle"? You're not alone. Many parents in Dehradun find themselves caught in the whirlpool of academic pressure, competition, and constant worry over their child's academic future. But what if I told you that miracle you're hoping for isn't a far-off dream—it’s already here, and it’s called the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun.

At Saraswati Tutorials, we don’t believe in magic spells, but we do believe in smart, personalized, and impactful learning that transforms average performers into academic stars.

The Growing Need for Home Tuition in Dehradun

With overcrowded classrooms, rushed syllabi, and teachers juggling 40+ students at once, it’s no surprise that students are struggling to cope. Dehradun, with its ever-growing student population and competitive academic environment, demands a new approach.

Enter the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun – Saraswati Tutorials.

We offer a solution that is tailored, focused, and absolutely effective. Whether your child is in Class 1 or Class 12, our expert tutors are trained not just to teach, but to understand the unique learning style of every student.

What Makes Our Home Tuition Truly the Best in Dehradun?

Let’s face it: not all tuition services are created equal. Some are just glorified babysitting sessions. But Saraswati Tutorials is different.

Here's what sets us apart:

Customized Learning Plans – No two students are the same. So why should their tuition be?

One-on-One Attention – This isn’t just tuition, it’s mentorship.

Handpicked Tutors – Experienced, passionate, and background-verified.

Flexible Timings – Because we know how packed student schedules can be.

Progress Tracking – Regular assessments, reports, and parent feedback sessions.

These features aren’t luxuries—they’re essentials when it comes to the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun.

Not Just Marks – We Build Confidence Too

Academics are just one part of the puzzle. What about your child’s confidence? Motivation? Study habits?

Our tutors are trained to go beyond the textbook. They act as mentors, guiding students in:

Time management

Effective study strategies

Building exam confidence

Overcoming subject phobia (especially in Maths and Science!)

With the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun, you’re not just investing in marks—you’re investing in lifelong learning skills.

Subjects We Cover

From foundational subjects to advanced topics, Saraswati Tutorials offers:

Mathematics

Science (Physics, Chemistry, Biology)

English & Hindi

Social Studies

Computer Science

Commerce & Humanities streams for senior classes

Whether your child is preparing for CBSE, ICSE, or State Board exams, we’ve got you covered.

The Saraswati Advantage: More Than Just a Tutor

When you choose us, you're choosing a commitment to excellence. Our tutors don't just clock in and out. They become part of your child’s journey, celebrating victories and tackling challenges head-on.

In fact, many of our parents report:

Drastic improvement in academic performance within 2 months

Noticeable growth in child’s confidence

Better time management and reduced screen time

This is why so many families are switching to Saraswati Tutorials for the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun.

Real Parents, Real Results

“My daughter used to dread Science. Now, it’s her favorite subject. The tutor from Saraswati Tutorials was patient, consistent, and exactly what we needed.” – R. Sharma, Rajpur Road

“We tried coaching centers, online apps—you name it. Nothing worked like one-on-one home tuition. Saraswati Tutorials has changed everything for us.” – N. Verma, Dharampur

These stories are not exceptions—they’re the norm when you partner with the Best Home Tuition in Dehradun.

Affordable, Accessible, and Absolutely Worth It

Think home tuition is expensive? Think again.

At Saraswati Tutorials, we believe quality education should be within reach for every family. Our fee structure is designed to be affordable without compromising quality. And with flexible packages, you get to choose what works best for your child.

Your Child Deserves the Best – Let’s Make It Happen

So, why wait for a miracle when the solution is right at your doorstep? The Best Home Tuition in Dehradun is already here—and it’s making a difference every single day.

Give your child the support, guidance, and academic edge they need. Let Saraswati Tutorials be your partner in shaping a brighter future.

Book a free trial session today and see the difference for yourself.

Because when it comes to your child’s education, settling for average is not an option.

[lioncitblogger]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Live Video Production Company

"By 2025, live video is projected to account for 82% of all internet traffic." This staggering statistic highlights just how essential live video has become for businesses aiming to engage audiences in real time. Whether you're hosting a corporate event, launching a product, or streaming a conference, partnering with a professional live video production company can make all the difference.

Why Live Video Production Matters

Live video is no longer just an option; it's a necessity. It bridges the gap between physical and virtual audiences, creating immersive experiences that drive engagement and build brand credibility. But producing high-quality live content isn’t as simple as hitting the “record” button. It requires expertise in planning, filming, and broadcasting—all of which a live video production company specializes in.

Benefits of Hiring a Professional Live Video Production Company

Seamless Execution: From setup to delivery, professionals handle every detail.

High-Quality Production: Advanced equipment ensures crisp visuals and clear audio.

Audience Engagement: Features like live chat and multi-camera angles keep viewers hooked.

Post-Event Content: Reusable footage for marketing campaigns.

What Services Does a Live Video Production Company Offer?

Pre-Production Planning

A successful live broadcast starts long before the cameras roll. A live video production company will work with you to:

Define goals and key messages.

Scout locations and set up technical requirements.

Create a detailed production timeline.

Live Event Coverage

This is where the magic happens! Companies provide:

Multi-camera setups for dynamic angles.

Professional lighting and sound systems.

Real-time broadcasting on platforms like YouTube, Facebook, or private channels.

Post-Production Services

After the event, your footage can be repurposed into:

Highlight reels for social media.

Training videos or internal communications.

Long-form content for your website.

How to Choose the Best Live Video Production Company

Not all companies are created equal. Here are key factors to consider:

Experience and Portfolio

Look for companies with proven experience in your industry. A strong portfolio demonstrates their ability to deliver high-quality results.

Technical Expertise

Ensure they have state-of-the-art equipment and skilled technicians who can handle challenges like poor lighting or unstable internet connections during live streams.

Customization Options

Every event is unique. The best companies offer tailored solutions to meet your specific needs.

Client Reviews

Testimonials and case studies provide insight into their reliability and professionalism.

Why Springforest Studio Stands Out

At Springforest Studio, we pride ourselves on being a leading live video production company in Singapore. Our team combines creativity with technical expertise to deliver flawless live broadcasts that captivate audiences worldwide.

What Sets Us Apart:

Cutting-edge technology for seamless streaming.

A dedicated team that handles everything from concept to execution.

Affordable packages tailored to businesses of all sizes.

Actionable Tips for Your Next Live Event

Define Your Goals: Be clear about what you want to achieve—whether it’s brand awareness, lead generation, or audience engagement.

Test Everything: Conduct a full rehearsal to troubleshoot technical issues.

Engage Your Audience: Use interactive features like polls or Q&A sessions during the broadcast.

Repurpose Content: Maximize ROI by using recorded footage across multiple platforms.

Partnering with a professional live video production company is an investment in quality, reliability, and audience satisfaction. Whether you're planning an intimate webinar or a large-scale conference, Springforest Studio has the expertise to bring your vision to life. Ready to elevate your next event? Let’s make it unforgettable!

[shreyasbloggg]

TARANG' 25

The Unique Spirit of Tarang Fest at Lady Shri Ram College: A Celebration Like No Other

Tarang Fest at Lady Shri Ram College for Women is not just another college event. It’s a festival that has captured the hearts of students, faculty, and visitors alike for its remarkable blend of creativity, talent, and inclusivity. Held annually, it brings together some of the most incredible performances, exhibitions, and interactions — making it a standout event in the cultural calendar of Delhi University.

While there are numerous fests across Delhi, what truly sets Tarang apart is its unique fusion of traditional and contemporary arts in every aspect of the fest. The true essence of Tarang lies in how it beautifully marries the rich cultural heritage of India with the vibrant, global influence of modern art forms. This theme runs throughout the three-day festival, creating an atmosphere that resonates with inclusivity, innovation, and a deep appreciation for the diversity of creative expression.

A Harmonious Blend of Old and New

From folk dances to contemporary performances, from classical music recitals to modern-day rap battles, Tarang celebrates the entire spectrum of artistic expression. It is one of the few college fests that places equal importance on traditional forms of art while also providing a platform for newer, often unconventional genres to shine. Imagine a mesmerizing Bharatanatyam performance being followed by an electrifying hip-hop dance-off or an art exhibition where traditional Madhubani paintings share space with digital installations — that’s the magic of Tarang.

What makes this fusion truly special is how the fest curates an environment where students from all backgrounds — not just those studying arts but those from various streams — can participate. This diversity allows for performances that are experimental, engaging, and inclusive of multiple perspectives, making it a truly multifaceted celebration of art.

The Cultural Confluence: Tarang's Approach to Collaboration

Unlike other fests that may focus on competition alone, Tarang fest fosters collaboration among participants. The fest encourages teamwork, partnerships, and an exchange of ideas, ensuring that every event — be it a debate, dance performance, or theatre production — is an opportunity for creative synergy. What stands out is the collaborative workshops that invite everyone from professional artists to budding creators. Students get to learn directly from the masters while also showcasing their own creativity.

The collaboration also extends beyond performances, with Tarang incorporating social awareness themes into the cultural activities. Issues ranging from gender equality to environmental conservation are explored through art and performance, ensuring that the fest is not just a display of creativity but also a conversation starter about pertinent issues in society.

The Energy, The Passion, The Spirit

What truly makes Tarang unique, however, is the palpable energy that fills the air. There's something special about the collective spirit of the participants and audience. You can feel the passion in every note played, every word spoken, and every brushstroke on canvas. It’s a spirit of belonging, where every individual feels empowered to express themselves, to challenge norms, and to break free of conventional boundaries.

Whether you are a part of the Lady Shri Ram College community or a visitor, it’s the shared enthusiasm and love for art and creativity that leaves a lasting impression. For three days, the campus transforms into a vibrant tapestry of color, sound, and movement — a visual and sensory feast that invites everyone to be part of something larger than themselves.

In Conclusion: Tarang Is More Than Just a Fest

In the world of college festivals, Tarang stands out as a beacon of creativity, inclusivity, and tradition. It’s a festival that goes beyond just performances or competitions; it’s an exploration of the diverse ways in which art can bring people together, inspire change, and celebrate the beauty of expression in all its forms. From the intersection of old and new to its focus on collaboration, Tarang fest is truly a celebration of the boundless potential of creativity.

If you haven’t experienced it yet, Tarang at Lady Shri Ram College is a must-attend — because it’s not just a fest; it’s an experience that stays with you long after the music fades.

[keywestvideo]

Marvin Karon's upcoming actors workshop is geared toward advanced, beginner, or intermediate-level students who would like to feel more comfortable meeting the subtle demands of working in front of the camera. Featuring theory and practical exercises, the course focuses on the mechanics of shooting film and television scenes. It will also cover how to break down a script, what to do before, during and after the camera rolls, as well as how to find beats, objectives, and transitions in a scene. Marvin Karon is a graduate of the National Theatre School of Canada, the University of Toronto‘s Faculty of Education and the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (OISE). Equally at home in front of the camera or the classroom, he has appeared in work for the CBC, CTV, Global, Showcase, TVO, CBS, HBO, and NBC in projects, such as Knight Rider, Paradise, Falls, The Newsroom, This Is Wonderland, Degrassi: The Next Generation, Rookie Blue, Saving Hope, as well as feature films, like Charlie Bartlett, The Rocker and Blindness. His teaching credentials include camera classes at the Actors Center in London, England, Humber College, Fanshawe College and the ACTRA members conference. More recently, he's appeared in the hit Showcase series, Suits, now on Netflix; the American feature film Dark Web: Cicado, which streams on Amazon, had a guest role on the long-running CBC series, Murdoch Mysteries, and most recently shot two things for Netflix: the new Guillermo del Toro produced anthology series, 12 After Midnight, and the mini-series, Painkiller. "Marvin is an exceptional teacher. He’s not only an acting coach, he’s a life coach who helps one understand through scene study and text analysis what being human and being alive is all about. He doesn’t just offer technique, but insight. Not just theory, but practical, concrete tools that can be used to improve performance in any medium. We’ve only just begun, but I’m already experiencing how wonderful his magic for turning Acting into artistry is. Everyone in the industry needs a mentor who can kick them to the next level. Look no further, Marvin Karon is that guy." - DeAundre' Woods, star of the Broadway hit Hamilton

[mareastrorum]

TF&TS Meta: Level 6 Ghostslayer

Since I am posting another chapter on Friday, no WIP Wednesday excerpt today! However, I usually throw out a meta post 2 days before each chapter to tide people over.

This post goes over Molly’s Level 6 progress.

See the directory for other meta posts.

As my chapter commentary noted, I am actively tracking each character’s class abilities in combat, and that means I needed to account for level updates. That’s not too difficult with CritRoleStats putting together all of that on their website, but Molly died at level 5. Thus, I had to plan out each of his level upgrades!

First was hit points. Molly has a d10, and I rolled a 6. His CON modifier is +2 and he gets another +2 for Tough, so he gained 10 HP for a total of 69 (nice).

At level 6, blood hunters gain Brand of Castigation and an additional blood curse. They can also inflict one more curse per rest, for a total of 3 (Ghostslayers get 1 extra). That was most of what Molly had been studying at the Cobalt Soul Archive in Zadash, when the Nein leveled up. He was also taking notes on Aether Walk, but he doesn’t get that until level 7.

Brand of Castigation:

At 6th level, when you damage a creature with a weapon for which you have an active crimson rite, you can channel hemocraft magic to sear an arcane brand into that creature (no action required). You always know the direction to the branded creature as long as it’s on the same plane as you. Further, each time the branded creature deals damage to you or a creature you can see within 5 feet of you, the branded creature takes psychic damage equal to your Hemocraft modifier (minimum of 1).

We’ve only had the fight with Lucien since the level up, but Molly didn’t use the brand on him. Taliesin had a bad habit of forgetting how his abilities worked, so I decided to interpret that as Molly not quite understanding his powers and/or panicking in the moment. He’s an anxious tiefling and only covers that up most of the time. Thus, in the first fight against Lucien, I figured he’d be more focused on trying to use Aether Walk to get away than remembering to inflict the brand.

Next, I had to sort out which curse Molly would take. He already has Eyeless (reaction) and Purgation (bonus action). As a note, Molly had one extra blood curse. Purgation had been removed from the class, and the current rules only provide a second blood curse by level 6, not a third. I account for this discrepancy later on in the story.

I had considered Exposure, which is a reaction, because most of the other options were bonus actions or actions. Molly’s action economy is kind of fucked because Misty Step (from Summer’s Dance) is a bonus action, as is activating a rite on each weapon. Matt’s also been consistent with the rule that players can’t do a bonus action as an action, so that would require several rounds before Molly could do full damage unless he got both rites going before combat began. Exposure could make up for that by doubling damage of a specific type. In addition, Molly’s opportunity attacks aren’t a vital source of damage or control, so losing that reaction probably wouldn’t make or break an opponent’s choice to flee.

However, narratively, it made more sense that Molly would choose Bloated Agony:

As a bonus action, you curse a creature that you can see within 30 feet of you, causing its body to swell until the end of your next turn. For the duration, the creature has disadvantage on Strength checks and Dexterity checks, and takes 1d8 necrotic damage if it makes more than one attack during its turn. Amplify. This curse lasts for 1 minute. The cursed creature can make a Constitution saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the curse on itself on a success.

Chetney’s got this one, so we’ve seen it in action in the stream. It’s great for punishing opponents that have multiattacks—like Lorenzo and Lucien’s guard hosts. Although it would cost a bonus action attack or buff, the disadvantage and damage would help a ton with taking those opponents down, especially if he amplified (which Molly loves to do). Considering his recent close calls, I figured Molly would care more about a control curse than one to increase vulnerability to one type of damage.

Why didn’t Molly use the new curse in the fight against Lucien? Well, he had been attempting to focus his attacks on Lucien instead of the hosts, which meant he’d needed to hold his actions as reactions and didn’t have the chance to use a bonus action on Lucien anyway. His turn came after Lucien and before the clerics, so Lucien had movement to possess a new host before Molly got to do much. Thus, I inserted a bit that Molly was still trying to understand the curses to give some plausible reason (other than D&D mechanics) to explain why he hadn’t done something fancy. Of course, there’s some panic involved, but Molly fights under pressure all the time. That only explains so much.

Even with all that, Molly’s still trying to work out how to do other crimson rites on his swords, plus Aether Walk. Those don’t come into play until Level 7, but he doesn’t know that. :D

[allyouknowisalie]

Once you merge your tracks into the stream of Zen, you spend your days silencing your mind and studying with your whole being. You realize that this Great Cause is not obtained from anyone else but is just a matter of taking up the task boldly and strongly, and making constant progress. Day by day you shed your delusions, and day by day you enhance your clarity of mind. Your potential for enlightened perception is like fine gold that is to be refined hundreds and thousands of times. What is essential for getting out of the dusts, what is basic for helping living creatures, is that you must penetrate through freely in all directions and arrive at peace and security free from doubt and attain the stage of great potential and great function. This work is located precisely in your own inner actions... You reach an empty, solidified silence, but there is no duality between emptiness and form or silence and noise. You equalize all sorts of wondrous sayings and perilous devices and absolute perceptions; ultimately there is no gain or loss, and it is all your own to use. When you go on “grinding and polishing” like this for a long time, you are liberated right in the midst of birth and death, and you look upon the world’s useless reputation and ruinous profit as mere dust in the wind, as a dream, as a magical apparition, as an optical illusion. Set free, you pass through the world.

-- Yuanwu

[ofsupernovcs]

Nova didnt answer the OEA part. She didn't know what her role was anymore beyond being TJ's girlfriend. But even then she knew in her heart that TJ was equally confused. But her magic and anxiety wouldn't let her articulate- at least not today.

" But I don't know how. " Nova admitted. "The odds of me not hurting anyone again. I don't know- it takes over and I can't control it." Nova said trying to do calculations in air and finding herself unable to do it.

The thoughts of friendship weren't there. More than the unknown slug burying itself to make her say the truth. And the truth was she didn't know and she was scared.

" Anything is possible isn't it. Magic in itself defies all the known studies out there. So why can't it give us peace.Theres a point where good prevails right?" Nova said admant on this, ignorning the magic flowing inside her.

"I can't relax until I fix this." Nova said, clear that she did care about Briggs more than she let on. "This shrine maiden stuff must be a fluke, a mistake. I'm not worthy of the power is bestowed upon me. I have to surpress all my emotions so nothing happens. I have to stay cold and aloof to prevent anymore pain.The moment I lose my compsure it all comes out. Nothing can help me so I can at least make a wish to eradicate whatever this is. So I will be worthy of your respect. So please Briggs let me fix this so you can be happy. To make up for the terrors I have brought you." Nova admitted everything rushing, the magic pulsating, so hard, she briefly met the eyes of Billie. "And Billie I'm sorry you're the collateral damage from my demons. I would anything to take this all back."

Nova finally stopped and looked at him. Everything stopped for a moment. She closed her eyes as if she she expecting the worst. The tears streaming down her face, before seeing him for the first time.There was an agonized sigh of relief, as if she lifted off a huge weight off her shoulder.

"I"m looking at you." Was all she could manage to say.

"Because right now, you're being pretty active doing exactly that," he snapped, "are you fucking kidding with that shit? You're no more OEA than my wife who was tortured by them until it killed her? Or my best friend who was also brutally murdered by them? TJ has helped them, and you've looked the other way. I'd say the two of you are a lot closer to the OEA than a lot of people here."

The atmosphere shifted when she looked at him...and sort of shattered. He stood there and let her speak without interruption, his shoulders dropped slightly. She looked almost like the Nova he once knew, and it lowered his defenses a little. There was still part of him that wanted to protect her, even after everything between them. "It's not too late," he offered, "to try to be a better person. You never run out of chances for that." Even if he wasn't entirely sure this friendship could be salvaged.

At her suggestion, he shook his head, "I don't think that's how that works." It sounded like a nice idea though, if they could really leave tonight free of the OEA, but if wishes worked like that, he'd have never lost Billie or Riley the first time.

"Listen, not really looking to do another lifetime, was hoping to chill at peace with my wife after this one, but--" The wind brought him to a sudden stop, glancing back at Billie as the lights started exploding to make sure she was at a safe distance, motioning for her to stay there.

If there was one thing Briggs understood, it was how terrifying this loss of control could be, experiencing the most of that same fear when the flames had started rising that night. "Nova, this is you," he told her, keeping his voice steady to try to bring her emotions down, "you need to relax, alright? You gotta stop." Magic and emotions often went hand-in-hand, something he was well aware of. Coming closer, he had to get her to snap out of this before it got any worse.

Grabbing her shoulders to get her attention, he demanded, "Nov, look at me!"

[croutonconfidential]

thinking of danny phantom aus and just headcanon stuff

pomegranate rules: eat enough ectoplasm/become contaminated enough and you will be stuck in the ghost zone(yall come get your Persephone hades au)

frozen au: Elsa! Danny and Anna!Jaz, Danny at his coronation as ghost king accidentally does some stuff that jeopardizes the kingdom out of pure anxious nerves

what if clockwork had a human alter ego and his sole income would be from predicting lottery numbers and stock prices making him practically the god of wall street, no one wants to play poker with him and he does palm reading on the side just for fun as a treat (only he can't read palms but as a time ghost he literally is omnipotent barring time stream altering events, now if only he would give clear advice and not cryptic sestinas)

pirate and merman au: mermaid shifter Danny, his parents are still scientists and want to study 'the humanoid fish monsters' only this is like the eighteenth century so their tools are just nominal torture devices and to escape he stows away on a ship, but it sinks, but he turns into a mermaid and lives! there he meets other mermaids and deep sea creatures but they don't like him for being only half a mermaid. it takes a while and meeting both jerks and nice people in equal measure but eventually he learns to embrace a piece of his identity fully. skip forward to 'x' amount of time later and he finds out that his sister set sail to find him but somehow became a pirate along the way. they meet and they talk there's feelings everywhere and Danny after so long just being a mermaid finds balance as a mermaid shifter with a foot on the sand and one in the tide but never far from either

coffee shop au: dan must do community service as a means to make up for his crimes, it's in the form of a coffee shop (somehow)(don't question it). but apparently he gets a little too into it and when someone asks why he's still there his response is 'what do you mean I've completed my community service years ago?' so in the end he's just some ghost with a magic coffee shop that shows up everywhere(maybe across dimensions even cough cough dcxdp crossover nudge nudge cough cough)

funny summons scenarios: one book said the summoner needed two hundred cursed idols arranged in a circle, they use Furbys and it works. Danny is terrified when he sees where he is and as a consequence his eldritch powers affect the electronics within the dolls and sets them on fire which terrifies him even more. it's a vicious cycle that only ends until he's burned them down into slag

dcxdp de-aged Danny: somehow Danny is de-aged maybe it was some accident from when Danny was helping clockwork clean his house or something, or maybe the Fenton parents made an ectoplasmic vacuum and sucked away some of Danny's ectoplasm causing his body to use its remaining mass to stabilize itself by making him a kid again. and it will be too hard to explain so cue jazz running away to Gotham with Lil Danny so their parents don't dissect him because this kid can't hide his powers for the half-life of him. and somehow she bumps into Talia or Bruce (take your pick) they hit it off while talking about kids and somehow it ends up as a scheduled playdate while Jaz also somehow becomes eligible for more programs (totally not through the good-hearted intentions of a super-secret assassin or gothic detective.)

dpxdc childhood rivalries: the Fentons went to college with this guy named bruce it was a shame he left so soon into the school year but they got on really well and even stayed in touch on and off through the years which led to lots of playdates between their families. but in dicks case he was a circus kid he could do a heckabunch of stuff and jazz even when being much younger had a competitive streak a mile wide it was a lighthearted competition but they both knew there could only be one victor. only Danny at the time just thought it was regular fighting, he and Jason had a sword fight only they used the antiques off the wall (Alfred was very displeased). by the time Tim came around the Fentons had fallen out of contact for a bit but eventually they go introduced to Tim hew as nice but between college student Jaz fourteen and a half Danny that still had to come to terms with half dying it wasn't great but it was a fun summer eventually. it's a Fenton Wayne family rivalry at this point and when Damian comes along and hears about it trust me when I say that it has been on site ever since. Danny drinking his coffee? stabbed. only for his opponent to either bend out of the way or just walk away just before he stabs Danny and Danny just says 'nice swing'. Danny sitting on the couch in the library reading a book? he's dropping down from the curtains only to be snatched up like a kitten and shown memes on Danny's phone instead. and when Bernard comes into the picture just witnessing all these feats of skill and ingenuity, and this is it. this is what makes him think that 'oh god these guys could be the batclan but wait whos this guy then?' Bernard searches but gets nothing and at the point where he just asks Danny to his face about which vigilante he is, and the response? "oh that was like three or four years ago, I'm retired don't tell anyone though my secrets is so illegal and dangerous you don't even want to know' and best of all is the Fentons, they are all clueless. they have no idea that the Wayne family is the batclan. it's a surprise to Danny but the thing is that he can't even consider it after all dick screamed at finding a caterpillar in his hair, Jason sneezes like a kitten and sure he might have the rage to put ten heads in a duffel bag but that dude? no, he gets sympathy pain from the tiniest things, it was like he was the one getting stitches rather than Danny after their failed sword fight. and Tim Tim? the guy that drowns in his oatmeal and once he gets to his eighth red bull starts speaking in ones and zeros? no none of these people could be vigilantes at all. and don't even think about saying bruce is batman the 'butts match' was a shitpost eight years ago and no one wanted to talk about bruce's butt, especially after the incident of '98 there was so much blood, also Danny remembers bruces thirty-second birthday, it was an escape room and the only way they all got out was through complete dumbassery and somehow abandoning their left socks, not. a single brain cell was used that day