#Caradoc ( Drew )

[theinvisiblemuseum]

rank bury a friend deaths

AH OMG THIS IS GONNA BE FUN

edgar. sorry king. #deserved

sturgis. accidental dismemberment slayage!

evan. this bitch got murdered at his local target, kinda iconic!

marlene. noooo don't kill me mr. ghostface i wanna be in the sequel!

regulus. sluts always die first!

pandora. killed herself like a bad bitch!

barty. too high to realize people were actually dying, what a legend

peter. goofy ass didn't even get killed by ghostface ...

narcissa. drew barrymore slayyyy

emmeline. throat slit on the cusp of freedom yeah ghostface kinda ate her up with that..

sirius. so iconic he died twice!

dorcas. heads will roll (or snap) or whtvr the song says

gideon/fabian/caradoc/benjy. interchangable but so slay.

bellatrix. guts <3

remus. soooo lame.... sexy kingsley moment tho

james. this one was actually kinda ouchie..

lily. died like a loser but at least she got to fuck pandora covered in blood first

[senatushq]

“I was younger then, I wasn’t afraid of anything, I didn’t think about dying even for a second. I thought I was invincible. Then I had you. I wanted to live, I started to think like that; for the first time I was afraid of death. I had never felt like that before.” - Sionia

Beaten and broken, Aegnor and Cloud were crushed by Faerinaal and Nyloth, their forces victorious, moved over the city as Lloth's dark shadow blanketed all. The rebellious lorendrow were ground under heel, and while the Matron Mother headed to the new temple of Lloth, Faerinaal headed into the midst of Winter's Mountains to capture the refugees and bring them under the Weaver's dark shadow.

The ring that sat upon Xerxes' finger was wrenched from his body, Romulus' compulsion was broken as the vampire's healing slowly worked to put himself back together. He was free now, free to make decisions on his own with whatever remained of the triumvir's feral mind.

Compelled towards the open gates of the Inferno as their former prison dissolved, many demons gradually left Rome to find hidden paths outside of the city's borders. It was there on the fields of the Otherworld that the likes of Marius, Mazikeen, Kirigan, Amico, Alastor, Caradoc, and Konstantin were all devoured. Consumed by either more powerful demons, or by the Monarchy of Hell themselves as they battled the archdruid Nettelia. Sybella and Bebe managed to escape under the protection of the fey fleeing into the Otherworld.

The Coven of the Ivy reunited but fractured, Virgil, Eoin, Tripp, Aurea, and the rest of their pack and coven put the burning city behind them to try and put together a plan for what they should do next. Virgil attempted to summon Mazikeen once more, but his familiar was already gone, consumed by her patron from the Inferno.

The warforged Vincenzo was smashed to pieces, enough of him remained to stay active and conscious, but his systems were largely destroyed and he was buried beneath the ruins of Rome. Unable to move but fully aware as the war raged above him.

Marisol wandered amidst the battlefield, sometimes visible, sometimes not. Death was brief for everyone, but through the pain of it and the horror of the immediate resurrection, the Fool used everything that she'd learned to offer what reconciliation she could. Again the same faces would come to her and again the spirit of death would try to console both the innocent and the damned, reapers couldn't hold any prejudice, in the end death came for all sinners and saints.

Deep within the city as it burned, the banshees Paloma and Chrysaor were put down. A violent end for creatures with horrific and violent beginnings. Their wails had devastated the landscape and with one last, deafening cry they screamed: "LET ME IN!"

Far below Labyrinth, far below even the city of Rome, the particle accelerator hummed with life. The largest in the world, The Eye had announced back in May that come August,it would be turned on. If only they had acted sooner, but optimism had led too many among their ranks to believe that this world was not beyond saving. That perhaps there was a chance that cooperation with humans would be enough to stop the onslaught of supernatural powers that threatened to crack the world in half. 

Rome had been decimated, the Titan rampaged and directed aetherial energy across the realm destroying everything in its path; the chancellors in their great cumulative grief and rage. The drow’s fortress had collided and what remained was a broken tower of once burning iron, and endless agony that encompassed the entirety of the city. Enraged beyond reconciliation, the Titan and its great defenders took more and more from Tamlen. Inan was the first to suffer its effects as he drew in more magic than his common blood could withstand and burnt himself alive from the inside out.

Renfield walked below, the facility went even deeper than The Eye’s proper base, levels of security kept so tight that only the Overseers, The Powers That Be, and the hollowborn knew of its existence. It had been his plan afterall, one that he’d proposed half a century ago when construction began. One pull of a lever and all magic would be over, but so many would die. A severance from the mortal realm and Faerûn/The Otherworld, a plan that would end all magic and level the playing field once and for all. Vampires, fallen seraphim, demons, spirits, and terrors would all cease to exist. Witches, druids, and Eladrins would all lose their magic and become effectively mortal. Blessed seraphim, halfbloodeds, lycans, and aspects as well, divinity and curses would no longer have any place. However, with the death of terrors then Remus and Keket would also die.

Keket, who’d flung herself from the top of Necromanteion, made her way across the battlefield, crossed all of Rome and followed Renfield into the place she hated most: for this, for something she knew Renfield would not be able to do. Keket moved his hand to the side, then she pulled the lever herself. 

Quiet fell across the city and the entirety of the Otherworld as all magic ceased immediately. Vampires began to collapse as desiccation took hold, the bodies that Fallen seraphim inhabited began to rot and decay, the lycans were made to shift back, witches could no longer cast spells, druids could not turn into animals or perform magic. The drow were affected, as were the fey. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped and everything appeared to be normal again once more. Keket stood, still in her state of undeath, but why?

Keket’s delicate gaze looked upon Renfield as she waited for the lack of magic to undo her undeath, but the end she had expected did not come. In a split second Keket was already too late as she realised what had happened, the boy she’d known burst into an unknown mass of writhing tentacles. Monstrously huge, infinite in proportion, he grew and grew; with no choice but to run, she fled the facility as his body flooded through every hallway  - desperate to catch the former hollowborn with the prized blood in her veins. Possessed, Renfield filled the facility and integrated into the network, eldritch knowledge seamlessly blended organic technology with physical forms of manmade materials as he took control of The Eye’s extensive resources and network.

Keket escaped, fled into the sky, and looked back in time to see Labyrinth overtaken by the ubiquitous mass of tentacles that had taken over her son. Remus saw firsthand what became of Renfield as the demigod’s great ubiquitous mass of tentacles erupted through the city. The Eye and this realm had taken everything from him, so he was resolved to tear it to pieces. On the other side of the veil he could feel how the Monarchy of the Inferno were clawing for entry, so he figured, why not say fuck it and let them in? Lilith was a big fan of this idea. 

Vampires stopped desiccating, the bodies of the Fallen stopped rotting, lycans could shift again, witches could cast spells once more, druids could switch between forms and use magic. One thing had changed though, like a candle gone out, for a brief instant the promethean flame had been extinguished. Demigods across the mortal realm and parts of the Otherworld connected to it were immediately possessed by The Great Old Ones that had been circling them for years. 

The cornerstone of this infernal plan, The Great Old Ones and the Outer Gods conspired together, knowing well the softness that Death held for Hermes. The Mercurian was possessed amidst the battle, he disappeared and reappeared in quick succession as he brought with him gates and technology that fired immediately. Constructed in the Abyss and the Outer Realms, great waves of forces began to come through at once. Dragons more menacing than any that had been seen since the dawn of Faerûn took to the skies. Monolithic deities, Titans, and Giants landed upon the Otherworld, all the while Thanatos looked on.

The Outer God Hermes’ laughter was menacing and low, Death would not take his own lover, at least, that was what the Outer God had assumed. Everyone had an end though, even Hermes, and even Thanatos. He had needed this vacation and the time together, he hoped everyone who had been slated to die had made the most of the time that he had given them, because it was over now. Hermes disintegrated and the God within screamed in horror before he was refused Uthenera and was cast across the stars. Thanatos set his wandering eye across the battlefield, patience run dry, then departed.

Prometheus was the only demigod not overtaken, his punishment had been lifted too soon and he’d earned the ire of the Gods. They froze him in place for a time instead, an hour, maybe two? The cruel laughter of The Great Old One in his mind was ceaseless as they made him relive the memory of his torture again and again. Then, they ceased and simply let him be. Prometheus would be made to live on in a world where everything and everyone he’d ever loved was taken from him. 

The avariel raced towards an entrance to the Otherworld and slipped through; it was here that he found a toppled mountain, one that had not been there previously. On the other side were the bodies of countless monstrosities strewn about its base and across the battlefield. The Otherworld nearby had been sapped of all power, the trees were dead, the ground was dead, and even the air itself felt still. Prometheus walked through the field of corpses, Mammon, Abaddon, and Astaroth (not Asher Roth) among them. Beings that had been denied entry and held back for as long as Death would permit, it was here that Prometheus found Nettelia's dead body torn in two. It was here that the Inferno had seeked to cross over, finding not a door but an archdruid instead. Prometheus caught sight of Thanatos in the corner of his eye, but when he looked Death was already gone. 

Death was collecting once more and all those who had died and then come back since his vacation began, immediately died in the moment that Hermes was taken. The murdered, the old, the sickly, the accidental, the victims of Midsommar, the victims of the Plague, and all the would-be casualties of this war. They were felled by whatever would have killed them their first time around.

Throat ragged, cough syrup bottles depleted, even the steroids The Eye had given him were all gone; Assan had no choice but to rely on his physical abilities. Thrown from the back of a drake, his daggers scattered across the floor as snacks spilled out of his pockets, it lunged towards him and Nathaniel. Horns curved suddenly from the top of Assan’s head, a barbed tale erupted from the base of his spine as the markings that were indicative of his magic formed over his scarred face and across his tongue. The Great Old One Assan stood, eyes wild before he shouted, “Explode.” The demons that crawled towards him and the nephilim simultaneously burst as blood, viscera, and sinew blanketed the Roman streets. He turned then towards Nathaniel and said, “Bring your father to me.”

Preoccupied with powdering his nose, Narcissus was so busy primping and talking to himself that he didn’t even notice there was a war going on outside his door. There was nobody around to chat with, so, naturally the tiefling had been talking to himself in the mirror - polishing that razor sharp charisma to its infamous cutting edge. The vain creature smiled, checked his features, but then just remained seated as no clear division between malevolent Great Old One and demigod seemed to take place. Physically, a set of beautiful horns had appeared alongside a pair of piercing green eyes; the colour of Envy. 

The Despair was on the other side of the ocean when they were suddenly filled, malevolent magic poured from them as dark arcana entwined with even darker divinity. Horns with a forked tongue and eyes like a serpent, Rome was where the battle would begin so they flung open a door to the Otherworld and marched first towards the gate that led directly into the City. 

While Maddox’s body had previously been torn into pieces, he’d found another vessel to inhabit as he slipped inside. Immediately overtaken, his appearance changed drastically as the God that had been circling him took hold of his body with extreme prejudice. The Great Old One Maddox slipped inside Oliver's body, twisted his guts, and then splattered the walls with the vampire.  

In the midst of Necromanteion, in one moment Soren was fighting for the allied senate forces, and in the next his appearance shifted drastically. Taking on his tiefling manifestation as his will was put down and his body was inhabited by a Great Old One, he was just a man chained to a celestial rocket hurtling through space. A dark deity of the Outer Realms smiled, those in his immediate vicinity dropped as the effects of his paralysis kicked in, a weapon in either hand as the pierced landed in heaps across the ruins of the Necromanteion tower. Evy fell first of her friends, The Great Old One Soren took great delight in stomping on the druid and her friends until they were nothing but heaps of broken meat on the ground of Ruined Rome.

Luna limped forward, accompanied by her faithful conjurations through the bowels of the catacombs. Suddenly Luna’s body healed in an instant, the creatures that she had summoned previously were a pittance compared to what appeared now as eldritch horrors of unknown origins writhed through the shadows and clawed their way into the streets of Rome. Her body no longer her own, The Great Old One Luna burst from the city as stones fell across the chaotic streets, warriors from both sides fell into the tunnels beneath as the great serpent she sat on roared. Drakes filled the skies, wyverns crawled forth, and abominations of all sorts skittered forth on unknown limbs from the shadows all across the city. A huntress of monsters, Dionaeia was snatched first, her battle with Octavian interrupted, torn limb from limb by all manner of beasts: as she lay there, bleeding out, Octavian consumed her soul and finished his sister off. Still, she did not restore him to his former power.

Physical restrictions removed, energy erupted from The Great Old One Komos’ body as a crater formed with the hollowborn at its epicentre. The dark deity’s laughter ricocheted across Rome as he decimated the landscape, levelled the streets as the people of the Allied Senate Forces tried to flee to take cover. Power overflowed as he drew from his own reserves of celestial magic, the need for absorption minimal but useful as he took in the punitive attacks that the realm lobbed at him. Safiye launched herself at him first, a single blast of raw magic ripped through her chest and killed the Shark instantly. 

Harellan rested in the Court of Drow when they were suddenly overtaken. The hollowborn’s body was changed, it reverted to its natural state as they stood, all shadows and piercing red eyes. Their presence could be felt in the minds of all who remained within the Court of Drow, while the illithids had been liberated from the Elder Brain, they fell under the influence of The Secret, they subjugated not just them, but all those that they laid eyes upon.  

On the other side of the continent at the time, The Bottle opened their eyes, reborn. The Outer God that took them was particularly unkind, the people at the inn where they were staying were pulled into their body. The gas from the lines running underneath the city, enough wings from enough birds to sprout them from their back so they could take a form of twisted flight. Vampire blood to keep their wounds closed, lycan venom to weaken those who came into contact with the canine like teeth that erupted from their hideous form. A chimera of hideous nouns, the God emerged in the Otherworld and made their way towards the where they believed the gates to Rome would be.

Bones erupted across Echion’s pearlescent scales, they grew massively and swelled, solidifying. Stronger than any metal, his claws became sharper than any blade, he broke through the skies above The Otherworld, Astaroth's broken and dead body behind him. Echion's great maw roared into the abyss of the Otherworld. His giant tail swinging behind him as he unfurled the hefty wings of bone, light to the air and miraculously nimble, the dragon of bone roared, and then took flight. Like so many others, he headed towards Rome.

This had been Udaeus’ plan from the beginning, even as his hunky body was taken over by a Great Old One, he stood there nodding as if everything was happening just as he had intended it to. Wings erupted from his back as he took flight, joining his brother in the fray as they headed towards Rome together. It was there that The Great Old One came across Nabi looking for a lighter, he dispelled her magic and then popped her head like a melon with one, meaty hand. He then turned his attentions towards the White Flame.

While Udaeus had been in the midst of relaying the plan he’d just been told, but in his own words and as his own idea, Pelorus felt it come. The Outer God that he had been waiting for all this time: finally, freedom from these bullies and reprieve from the neverending doom that was having to actively participate in the activities of daily living. His draconic form on display, he lifted himself into the air as he dictated their targets across Rome. 

Crystals ran up Hyperenor’s spine, they swelled in great mass as they grew and spanned out. One might have been enough for Echion, but why have one when you could be a dragon with two heads? A twin headed crystal dragon took to the skies, its breath crystalized everything in its path, while its wings struggled to keep it airborn the Great Old One that had taken over Hyperenor would never let anyone notice this. The hefty bellows of its wings headed towards Rome, resolved to follow Udaeus’ plan until the bitter end. 

Blades missed Hyacinth at every turn, an application of his power as they swerved at the final moment, constructs of his own design flourished as he pierced those through with his seraph blades. He paused for a moment and was run through and overtaken by his foes before wings and dark divinity erupted from him. The God’s head of an Outer God shone above him and bathed him in a new light; Apollo sensed distress and appeared beside him but was pierced through the chest by The Great Old One Hyacinth’s seraph blade. Diana saw this from across the platform but was too late, Lucifer’s sword ran her through, the breadth of their great family now at their back. 

Fortune favoured Caio and those around him as he blessed his vampire with blatant favouritism. Ayla had also received this boon, she had avoided nearly every attack that had come towards her as a result. Fortune was beginning to change as luck ran its course though, the demigod’s wings fanned out as his divinity shone around him: all at once he was taken. An Outer God in his place who reversed the favour just as quickly as it had been bestowed, Giovanni's face planted and was torn apart by drow a moment later as the Outer God turned his gaze towards the broken city, and to the battle between Melpomene, Ayi’ig, and Nidhogg.

Epimetheus wasn’t possessed because he was eaten by the book during the explosion, lucky him, I guess?

With Eve’s fight put to rest at long last, Marzia had finally won. She had another, much older one, but she had taken to this one. The Goddess of all Illithids, Marzia had come to this realm to shift the flow of time and save her race from extinction. Eve’s resistance necessitated the brief destruction of the Promethean flame. With her powers on this plane at full strength, she connected the minds of all The Great Old Ones and Outer Gods that had descended upon this realm, they would begin their assault here, but all of Faerûn would be theirs once again.

Magic momentarily disrupted, Michael and Tisiphone were released from the necromancer’s compulsion for long enough that they could destroy the rods that were embedded within. Joined soon by Adatiel, Dumah, and Uriel, those that had fallen would not be forgotten. Even without his grace Azrael stood at the ready. The necromancers would fall. Eren succumbed to his previous wounds from Lucretia; August, Efigenia, Avery, and Bastien were each cut down as the rank and fold of the Inferno filed in after them. Elsewhere, Nathaniel called out to their father, only for Michael to go to them and have been commanded to die by the Godly Voice Caster. 

When those from the monarchy of the Inferno that still lived flooded into the city, Tisiphone expected to see Alecto or Megaera in chains. Charon perhaps alongside Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus. Instead Alecto and Charon were both dead, and Megaera the betrayer had joined ranks with Lucifer. The last battle between the Blessed and the Fallen began, though it was painfully one-sided. Tisiphone. Uriel and Adatiel managed to escape: Dumah and Azrael did not. 

Scattered and broken, Vivianne and her coven laid in ruins. Abel was dead. Marco was dead. August was dead. Avery was dead. Everything she’d hoped to protect was taken from her, it hadn’t mattered how hard she’d fought, or how desperately she’d wanted it. In the end Fate was against her. The reminiscent presence of Silas’ ghoul lurched forth, the first two pills were already gone and her body felt like it could come apart at the seams. When she looked out at the city and at the devastation that had once been her home, she had to wonder if she had anything left to give except for her life? The pill could turn the tide, maybe, but it would also kill her. What else did she have to lose? The canister was empty now though and in its place was a flower of pharmakis, fresh, and black as the night sky. A gift from the garden of Death. Vivianne brought the petals to her lips, and she ate. 

Above Rome, Ayi’ig and Nidhogg continued to battle with Melpomene, the relentless Muse that would not give anything until her last breath was taken from her. Melpomene fought alone, apart from her twin, apart from her sisters: she had asked for them and they did not come. Aether erupted and filled the sky, a dance of shadows and light as blades from the Queen of the dark and the Goddess of tragedy clashed with one another. Nidhogg’s great maw snapped, his breath pulled the life from Melpomene’s body but still she fought. 

Outnumbered and overpowered, more drow flocked to their Queen’s side. Melpomene was alone, she was always alone and deep in the forest Mneme slumbered upon the cusp of her last breath. Tears battered aether as the Muse refused to go gently; within the Otherworld she had felt the change, the destruction of the relic that had cursed her sister. The elves would be restored, the fey would find their resurgence, but there was nothing… No great shift, no change. Ayi’ig laughed, so long as the former wielder lived, then they would hold the power still. Titania was centuries away, lifetimes even, another warrior who would not come. Melpomene had given everything for the Queen of the Fey, for her step mother and her step sister, now this pale shadow stood before her and laughed while Titania didn’t so much as lift a finger to save her own people. 

Nidhogg’s jaw closed around her and Melpomene smiled through the pain, the grief, and the tears: because she had seen the drow Queen’s fate, and Ayi’ig’s time had come. If only the Queen had believed her. The Titan took aim, and with the last of its power all three aspects were engulfed in the raw aether that the united chancellors emitted below. 

To the ground the three fell, a flicker across the sky saw Titania catch the falling Melpomene in her arms as the two of them landed safely. Nidhogg’s body hit the earth with a great crash, the draconic form abandoned as the dark elf stirred within the crater; every nerve was raw and burnt. Pushed to a limit that Ayi’ig hadn’t thought possible, laboured breaths saw her in a pit that would be the Queen’s demise, she waited for her loyal servants to come to her aid, but it was not one of her own that found her first: but Pluto. She was a worthy vessel, one that was fit for the True Goddess of Death, but he smiled as only a traitor could and chastised Kore for blatantly cutting down the family and bloodline he was so proud of. The original vampire would not give his Goddess what she wanted, he had known of her desire to take hold of Ayi’ig and had quietly planned to kill her once she was weak enough for him to take on. With the unmatched strength of an archfiend, Pluto raised his boot before a whisper in his ear stopped him in his tracks. 

Lilith whispered: sleep.

With Fortuna at her side, luck was on her side. Too bad for Pluto. One of her demons dragged his body to Ayi’ig’s as Kore’s soul forced itself from Pluto’s chest and lept into Ayi’ig instead. It was here that Persephone opened her eyes once more, Tiamat reborn. Scales of the hardest Otherworldly metal, five heads for each of the elements, Caio at her side for good luck, and her Priestess of Death upon her back. Lilith, her most loyal, and her most trusted. Nidhogg roared in defence of his Queen, but the dragon was a bug compared to her and his head was torn clean off, severed in two. Pluto, clutched firmly in Tiamat's claws would be dealt an even worse fate.

Remus saw what had become of the drow queen, he could see what was becoming of everyone and everything. Lilith’s popcorn bowl had been abandoned so she could stand at her Goddesses’ side, but from the dragon’s back she would take great pleasure in witnessing what would come to follow. By virtue of his ability, Remus was more powerful than any other aspect, the Otherworld flowed through him and connected him to every creature that ever called it home. Trivia’s greatest mistake, an aberration of magic and intervention of fate: when you reached into the dark it was impossible to predict what might cling to the thing you pulled back. 

Remus could transform into anything he laid his eyes on, take its abilities and entire physiology; in his rage he learned that he could blend them as well. With inspiration taken from his fallen son, a mass of tentacles darkened the horizon, he pulled from the five-headed dragon that he faced down and compensated for his son’s weakness by hardening the appendages with scales stronger than any metal. A mind that would consider any outcome, his husband’s infernal power of hellfire rose around him married with the properties of a phoenix to burn through any spell that came near him. Rome would burn and these Gods would burn: this was only the beginning, he’d kill everything, he’d kill everyone, he didn’t care what it cost him anymore because he’d already lost everything. He lashed out and tore apart the sky, a rift between the mortal realm and the Otherworld laid it bare. Marzia’s illithids poured through, the hordes of hell - billions of demons - and the great legions of the Old Ones emptied into the mortal realm from the sky above.

The losses of the Allied Senate Forces were substantial, Pythia had slipped through their fingers, and as their forces turned against one another they were falling apart at the seams. Their forces that had brazenly flaunted Death dropped immediately, the Lupo pack that hadn’t survived the initial explosion were left charred and lifeless, and only those under Thanatos’ personal protection managed to survive their previous encounters with death. Octavian laughed a murderous cry as he ripped the souls from the necromeras and demogorgons that descended upon him, a bloodthirsty and seasoned warrior who sought to reach his prime once more. For every soul that Octavian consumed however, his power did not grow any further. 

Kings and Queens of the Inferno, middling demons, greater demons, and all manner of beasts flocked towards the tower and swarmed the last living members of the Allied Senate Forces. Yeeted to meet the same fate as his dawuh, Octavian was thrown from the tower and shifted into the form of a phoenix in an effort to flee and madly seek whatever remnants of the necronomicon remained, burning everything in his path as he did. 

Crumbled and broken on the floor, blood all but completely drained, Ayla was too weak to heal. Loss had left her starved, the painful ache in her limbs extended to every part of her body as magic charged the air and battled with the infernal powers of the dark. Pelorus noticed first, the God within possessed the spartoi’s radar ability and picked up on the ancient force that surged within the vampire. Ayla’s hair turned white, her pupils blew wide, and ripples of power rolled off of her in waves as those she perceived to be an enemy were forced to flee. One was not so fortunate: The Great Old One Hyacinth had his throat ripped out, a seraph blade of unknown origin bore through his chest and killed him on the spot. This continued for somewhere in the vicinity of ten minutes and when Ayla came to she had no memory of what had transpired. 

Deep within the Otherworld, Pythia praised the liche Tepiltzin as the book sat within her hands once again, fractured, weakened, and incomplete: they would start again. She went to join her infernal siblings and stand the the true Goddesses side, Tiamat. Vivianne came across the pinned, lifeless body of her brother, Eren’s body had been shredded by a dragon’s claws, and within August a seraph blade was run though his chest: a clear indicator of what had transpired. 

The Titan devastated the city further, it rampaged beyond any semblance of control. The great conglomerate of the chancellors turned its raw, aetherial blast towards the very earth itself: if the eladrins were to be wiped out, then they would destroy the very realm itself. More power than any creature could give was funnelled through Tamlen as he was burned alive from the inside out, in a great burst of fire and aetherial magic he erupted and the Titan was shattered once more. Aurora, Laer, Zahrya, Robin, and Nirvaan were all scattered across the ruins of Rome and drained of their magic. The Great Old One Maddox descended upon Nirvaan, but the warder stood as his hair turned white and power rolled off of him in waves. A seraph blade of unknown origins eviscerated the God before the eladrin retreated from the field, when Nirvaan awoke he had no memory of what happened. 

Tamlen, reforged himself amidst the rubble of the pyramid once again, the Laurelin in its infancy had managed to protect itself from the explosion and the subsequent collapse of the ruins. Now, a single fig hung from its branches, the first fruit that the tree had produced, knowing that these new forces would come to collect, Tamlen reached towards the branch and plucked it. The fey were falling and his people were dying, unsure of what to do or where to go, he did the only thing anyone sensible could in that moment: he ran. A streak of aetherial light from the Pyramid sailed through the air, but The Weary was behind him, his dark magic wove a net around the celestial elf and throttled him before taking the fig for himself.

Meryasek rose among the chancellors, but were quickly overpowered as they were abducted by The Bottle who chewed them into his body and then spat them out like used trash for The Weary to use as they saw fit. Taken prisoner, Laer, Zahrya, Robin, Aurora, Trivia, and Meryasek were not seen again. Dareth died once again trying to defend the DaemonKing.

Titania and Melpomene gathered what surviving forces remained under the ruins of the old forum. The Fairy King’s Forest burned, New Rome was reduced to ash, and the creatures that remained were either captured, fled the city, the realm, or they took shelter together; the end of days had come. Pelorus with his great radar managed to find and assist in the capture of many halfblooded, Cloe, Micah, Rawlins, and Elessar among them. Their fates would make death seem like a kindness.

Across Rome those who had fought against one another were joined unilaterally in force against the crushing weight of The Great Old Ones that poured down upon them. Illithids, monsters, serpents, and dracaenae alike swept across the city as the subjugated monarchy of the Inferno led the charge. Fey, drow, and halfblooded were captured while any others were dispatched on sight: useless in the eyes of the Outlying divinity. With them came Mars and his forces, cavalry that Titania had sought and brought to reinforce her people, a cavalry that had arrived too late. For his treachery, Pluto’s magisters cut down and butchered before the Original vampire’s eyes, Harlow was cut down before Venus could reach her side, Juno and her magisters along with Mars and his still-living magister had to pull Venus away before The Great Old Ones fell upon them as well. Whisked away by Titania and her magic, the Queen of the Fey was too late to save her sons or the chancellors from capture, but she was resolved to find a way to help them.

Over the next five years that followed only a rare few survived, the individuals that fled into the Otherworld were captured, many submitted to the worship of The Great Old Ones and pledged unending fealty, and some made it into the Underdark while a single pair fled into the Astral Sea: find them here. 

ooc info:

Dead is dead, feel free to roleplay up until the point of your character's demise. Those listed cannot return as spirits, ghouls or anything else.

Fled characters have fled.

Possessed characters are possessed, you're welcome to play them as such. Basically OP without any drawbacks to their powers.

Characters on the deceased list that aren't specifically mentioned will have either died "off screen" or will die in the next in-game five years.

"Death" being back on means that everyone who should have died in the last few months, will suddenly die. Big mass dying, this also means most of the lycans that went caput are dead as well now. Some survived, Lucas, Romeo, Otsana, and Regina for sure. The rest though? They either died from the explosion or they died over the next five years.

I do have an end goal in mind for who's still alive, world state at the end of this is going to be much slimmer :) so if you're planning on killing someone off, message me first because I don't want you to shoot yourself in the foot.

Next plot drop is on the 14th :)

[wordspin-shares]

Ten Lines Game

Thank you so much for the tag, @starryeyes2000!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three or more) then share it. Tag others if you want.

You know, I have exactly ten fics, though eight are one-shots. 😂

From The Wings of Blue Butterflies (Tolkien-verse book-verse, multiple Ages):

Even more years came and went before Tom chanced upon the nightingale-singer once more. She sat with her maidens by the bend of the River-under-Shade flowing through the ancient forest, within mighty gates that led to cavernous halls of stone, weaving a great tapestry wherein were threaded deeds and many things past. She was clad in rich garments, with a circlet of gold upon her dark head and a delicate brooch of many-hued blue gems on her shoulder.

From Of Glass and Stars (LotR book-verse gapfiller):

The lake's surface was smooth as polish and dark, unbelievably dark. Hard as he had squinted, he could see no bottom, only a vastness of midnight-blue plunging down, down, forever. It was like trying to make out nonexistent shapes in the pitch-black of night. No ray of sunlight from above shimmered on the surface, but the mountains and a bit of bright sky cast their reflections on the blue water. And instead of his own likeness staring back at him, there were stars: pinpricks of pure white brilliance shining up from an unfathomable depth.

From The Sails are Set (LotR book-verse gapfiller):

Years and circumstances had matured him, and he had settled down to a respectable life in his parental home. And then a wizard and thirteen Dwarves had whisked him off to his first real adventure, kindling a fire within him that would not abate. And afterwards, even though he had resumed his old life in the Shire, the want to travel and know more of the wide world stayed with him, and he was changed.

From The Fifth Day (LotR book-verse gapfiller):

At last she saw him emerge and, as his eyes found hers, a touch of joy lifted her spirit. Too long she had lived with no close friends about her – her acquaintances, her own brother even, understood little of her soul, were blind to the invisible shackles binding her. This man, the late Steward Denethor's secondborn, had within moments perceived what others could not: that her maid's body was a prison, condemning her to mean tasks, robbing her of true freedom.

From Bedtime Stories (LotR Fourth Age book-verse gapfiller):

Fidgeting in bed, little Caradoc turned to his mother. "I have found the most pretty presents for you and Papa," he said excitedly, curly locks bouncing on his shoulders.

"And your Mama and I are looking forward to discovering what they are."

The young hobbit beamed as his father entered the room and came to sit by him on the bed. Then he frowned, gaze fixed on his parent's forehead. "Papa, how did you get that mark? It looks bad."

From Hallowed Waters (The Silmarillion book-verse gapfiller):

She halted and gazed at it long, a smile softening her face. After a while she drew nearer and looked up at the alder-trees by the water, feeling a gentle breeze upon her skin. She began to sing, a song of peace and growth, but when her eyes turned to the lake, she saw its surface was stained red.

From Beyond The North Stair (LotR book-verse gapfiller):

He had been young, a Lord of the Dúnedain journeying to the land of his forefathers, and eagerly ascended the many steps to the stone chair. When he had settled into its cold embrace, he had looked about him, west and south and east, seeing the wide plains of Rohan, and the High City where Anárion had been King, and the black mountains of Mordor.

From A Bit of History (LotR Fourth Age book-verse gapfiller):

The girl went with him and gazed at the clutter on the desk curiously. "What are you writing?" She looked up at the fair-haired elderly hobbit.

From my current version of Edged in Silver (LotR canon-compliant OC story):

As the young woman reached her destination, a hum went up from afar. It rose steadily to a clamour and cheering. She looked over the shrubbery that was the border of the Houses. Two horsemen appeared through the gate to the sixth level, followed by a press of people.

From From the Sidelines (TVD, canon-divergent-after-season-6 OC story):

Claire kept thinking about those words after they had hung up. She recalled what Sheila had told her about her Occult studies class. Most picked it because it seemed cool. Bonnie might have thought the same, but deep down she had begun to believe. After the initial shock wore off, she would take action.

Tagging: @thecharmedburrowspn-files @darknightfrombeyond @bi-ologistofthehills @sunlitscribe @waterloou @asirensrage @stachedocs @bobfloydsbabe @joaquinwhorres @illegalcerebral @bluejay-in-flight @bluebell-winter @darthnell @nejires-hado @carmens-garden @juliaswickcrs, and anyone else who wants to join in the fun! @ me!

[corvusalbus93]

Sneak Peek: Dead Man’s Tale

Recently I’ve shared my plans for a new story, an AU in which Askeladd survives and has his own storyline, separate from Thorfinn’s canon one, details here.

Until I start publishing, there will be a few, short sneak peeks, introducing new characters and hopefully get you curious.

Starting with a snippet from early on in the story, giving you an idea as to how Askeladd survived in the first place:

...

Horik drew his blade, keeping a little distance from the body. “Let’s make sure this one is down for good.”

A few men looked worried, one turning to the Dubliner. “You think he might still be alive?”

“After what I just saw, I’m not taking any chances. Rhiannon?”

Dagger drawn, as if she feared he would rise again, Rhiannon kneeled beside the fallen Viking. She checked for a pulse and breath, before giving Horik a nod. Loud enough for those around them to hear she said. “He’s dead. Lungs must have filled with blood.”

Horik, put his sword away and nudged Askeladd’s head with his boot. “Good riddance. Let’s get him out with the rest. Give me hand, will you?”

The hall had once again become quite busy, with people either leaving or helping to clean up. Horik wasn’t sure just how many had died here today, and counting was complicated by the fact that the dead weren’t always in one piece. He glanced to the unconscious man he helped carry; this wasn’t someone he wanted to meet on the battlefield.

Somewhere in the crowd he spotted Caradoc and Frodi, bearing one of the less mangled corpses. He only got a short glance, but all limbs seemed attached and the deceased had short, blond hair. So far so good. Horik felt his heart hammering and suppressed a smile. It had been years since he’d felt this kind of excitement; that he got to do something like this in his old age. Now everything depended on whether they could pull off the switch and do it in time. The toga was still soaking up blood, telling him that there wasn’t much left. Hopefully, Rhiannon was up to the task.

-

Floki wasn’t having the best day, and he was seething. The king had died under his watch, he had failed to stop Askeladd from slaughtering dozens, almost gotten killed himself, and now Prince Canute was leading the army. Worse, the prince was no longer a pliable boy and seemed little interested in the Jomsviking’s advice. Perhaps looking down at Askeladd’s cold corpse would make him feel better. Why, he’d like to be the one, kicking the bastard into the flames, once the pyres were lit.

The bodies had been divided. Christians didn’t like to cremate the bodies of their dead, so the corpses would be stored by these freezing temperatures, until the ground was soft enough to dig graves in the churchyard. Some of the more important victims would be returned home to be buried amongst family.

The rest however, were to be burned. More convenient this time of year.

He arrived at the cremation site outside York with his retinue, when the sun was already low. Close to the forest the men didn’t need to carry the wood far to build the pyres. The bodies that were to be burned this eve were lined up in the snow, some already with funerary goods beside them.

One elderly man seemed to be overlooking the workers, directing the steady flow of logs. “Where’s the body?” Floki barked at him without so much as a greeting.

The overseer turned around, evidently annoyed, and not the least bit intimidated. Floki remembered him, an envoy from Dublin. And former Viking. “You will have to be more specific, Floki.”

The Jomsviking was not in the mood for his antics. “The traitor, idiot. Where is Askeladd?”

The Irish Viking looked around, until he pointed to a line of bodies just a few steps away. “Ah, there he is.” Admittedly, Askeladd was easy enough to spot, thanks to the toga.

But what Floki saw as he stepped closer made even his stomach turn. The stab wound inflicted by the prince was no longer the only visible wound. It looked as if the body had been speared and stabbed several more times after death, even bludgeoned. Some blunt weapon had completely disfigured the face, the only thing still recognizable being the blond hair, now sticky with blood and bits. “What...what happened to him?”

“You’ve seen what he’s done in the hall. Let’s just say some wanted to vent their feelings after that.”

“You didn’t stop them?” Floki was repulsed; he was no stranger to such acts, but this was excessive.

Horik frowned. “Risk my neck for a dead madman? Not a chance.”

“You kicked him too!” one of the loggers shouted.

The Dubliner shrugged. “Once or twice. What? I was hoping the King would end the threat to Dublin. Now I have to start over with Prince Canute, and he’s probably going to be busy pacifying England. So yeah, I’m pretty pissed.”

Floki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just burn the bodies,” he said wearily. At this point he just wanted this day to be over, but if nothing else there was at least one less problem he needed to worry about.

[breathingliifearc]

THEIMPALPABLE‌:

 A SOFT SIGH falls from tender lips; gentle smile managing to form at his story of how he believes time doesn’t exist whilst being at his work. She surely can’t tell him how to live his life, but she thinks it’d be nice if he could get a PAUSE and the sleep he needs for a change. Lexine feels that one of these days, she’s gonna find him passed out, outside his apartment’s door.

 “Well, honestly, I think it’s great you…enjoy your job so much, you d-don’t, even take time into account b-but———” Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and she can’t help but jump slightly in surprise. She’s not expecting anyone, unless…

 BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ———BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

 Three short buzzes and a long one. She knows who that is. Fingers of her hands stretch and bend as she stands up; small chuckle adorning her mouth. “So-Sorry, I’m gonna—-just a second.” She points toward the door, before politely disappearing from sight.

  From afar, there’s the sound of a door creaking and opening, and then, an EFFUSIVE tone chimes in; led by the plopping of items near the entrance.

  “YOOOOO, Lexy-Lex! How’s it goin’? Sorry for not texting you that I was gonna pop in for a sec, but like, it was improvised, ja feel? I was ‘round the neighborhood and was like ‘I wonder how my BFF Lex’s doing’ and now I’m here!” Cue the sound of a door closing, followed by quick steps that can’t be really stopped, heading into the living room. “AW, GEEZ, YOU GOT SOME MUFFINS UP IN HERE? YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS——” But then, as this newcomer tries to reach out, he notices there’s someone else in the room.

 “Oh, my bad—–pops taught me better than that—sorry, dude, I get too excited sometimes.” Caradoc talks to Drew as if he knows him, even though he really doesn’t. “Oh, uh…did I interrupt somethin’ Lex? Aw, man…”

  “No, we were just chatting. Right, Drew?” Lexine chimes in, chuckling. She knows this is the way Caradoc is. Always stumbling; getting around everywhere due to his outgoing behavior. “Drew, this is Caradoc, my best friend. We’ve been…best friends ever since I can remember.”

  Caradoc extends a gloved hand Drew’s way; a big, goofy grin upon his face. “’Sup Drew! I’m Caradoc. You can totes call me Doc, if you wanna. Or, like, anything else, really.”

𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐘 , and s soft smile pulls at the corner of his lips, head falling forwards gently. It’s the same thing that Mrs. Talbot has told him: you need to rest, you need to sleep. You’re not some kind of  superman, young man!  He could hear her in his mind and the smile on his lips grows. Drew knows that both his neighbor and Lex want the best for him and that includes a better lifestyle, at least when it comes to sleeping.

    ❛ I know, I know… It���s just that, I - ❜ the sound of the doorbell rings in his head too, completely snatching the words out of his mind and his lips. The musician gives a nod and a smile, quite curious though. In the meantime, he reaches out for another muffin happily -quite like a child with a new toy- and chills back giving it a bite.

The sound of a new and unfamiliar voice comes in, triggering colors in his mind so wild with its ups and downs, lines and shapes, so ENTERTAINING. However he doesn’t expect the man to come rushing in and he struggles standing, nearly chocking, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

   ❛ NO, no, we were just chatting indeed. ❜ Drew smiles big looking up at Caradoc and listening to Lex. It was exciting getting to know her friends too, like a little bit more about her by extension of other people. Taking his hand in his, Drew gives it a firm shake.  ❛  Nice to meet you Doc! Well, I’m Drew as Lex said ❜ A chuckle  ❛ It’s just Drew, some people think it’s because I’m an Andrew, but nope. Drew as in Drew Barrymore. ❜ he laughs more then

      ❛ I saw you were going to take a muffin before well, the introduction. Take oooone or two… or three. I was telling Lex she’ll make me gain weight with such delicacies! ❜

[justforbooks]

Nicholas Evans, who has died aged 72 after a heart attack, was the unlikely author of the bestselling novel The Horse Whisperer (1995), which became a Robert Redford film. Unlikely because the book, set in Montana, was a first novel by a British television producer, and landmark because the book sold for a record price at auction, and justified its sale price.

Evans had previously left a successful position as number two to Melvyn Bragg on the South Bank Show, where he produced many of the flagship programmes of the television arts series, including profiles of Patricia Highsmith, John Le Carré, Laurence Olivier, Francis Bacon and, most crucially, the film director David Lean, who became a friend and wondered why Evans was making a film about him, and not something he wanted to do for himself.

Evans then co-produced and wrote a TV film, Murder By the Book (1987), about Agatha Christie and her character Hercule Poirot, played by Peggy Ashcroft and Ian Holm. He wrote three screenplay adaptations, but by 1993 a film project had fallen through and he found himself £65,000 in debt and diagnosed with a stomach melanoma.

Evans had begun writing a novel based on a story that he had been told by a Devon blacksmith, who used the term “horse whisperer” to describe someone with a gift for communicating with horses. Evans had gone to the US, to meet men who did this, thinking the story needed a western setting. “If you set a book in postwar or contemporary Britain, something shrinks,” he said. “It becomes parochial.”

He gave the manuscript of the book, half-finished with an outline of the remainder, to his friend the agent Caradoc King, who took it to the 1994 Frankfurt book fair, where it instigated a bidding war.

Dell bought the US rights for $3.15m, Bantam got UK rights for $537,000 and translation deals in Germany and Italy netted another million dollars. The film rights went to Robert Redford for another $3m because Evans saw Redford in the role of his hero, Tom Booker.

While this was happening, his melanoma was removed by surgery and his local bank manager, who had been demanding repayment of his overdraft, called and invited him to lunch.

The novel got mixed reviews, especially in the US. Virtually no critic could resist mentioning Evans’ advances; many also drew comparison with Robert James Waller’s The Bridges of Madison County. Evans himself acknowledged the influences of Cormac McCarthy, Ernest Hemingway and Jack London. The New York Times critic Michiko Kakutani called it “a sappy romance novel, gussied up with some sentimental claptrap about the emotional life of animals and lots of Walleresque hooey about men and women”.

But it shot to the top of the New York Times’ bestseller list, ranked No15 for the year despite being released in the autumn, and remains one of the bestselling novels of all time. Redford’s 1998 film, which starred the 14-year-old Scarlett Johansson as Grace, the teenager injured along with her prize horse, and Kristin Scott Thomas as her mother, who seeks out Redford’s Booker, and has an affair with him, did well but was not a huge hit.

Evans was born in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, the son of Anthony, the sales director of a motor engineering company, and Eileen (nee Whitehouse). He was head boy at Bromsgrove school, and after a year teaching in Senegal for Voluntary Service Overseas, went to St Edmund Hall, Oxford to study law, where he met Jenny Lyon, his future wife, in their first week.

After taking a first-class degree, he started work as a journalist for the Evening Chronicle in Newcastle. In 1975, he started at London Weekend Television, first on Weekend World and then the London Programme, the broadcaster’s top current affairs show, before joining the South Bank Show as executive producer from 1982 to 1984.

After Murder By the Book, he adapted screenplays for the TV movies Acts of Betrayal (1988), about the IRA, and Secret Weapon (1990), the story of Mordechai Vanunu, the nuclear bomb whistleblower kidnapped by the Israelis and imprisoned for treason, and for the Julie Walters film Just Like a Woman (1992), based on Monica Jay’s novel about a transvestite’s romance with his landlady.

His second novel, The Loop (1998), brought a wolf biologist, Helen Ross, from Cape Cod into Yellowstone Park to cope with the reintroduction of wolves; pursued by a local lothario, she instead romances his 18-year-old son and cures his stutter. It sold 5m copies.

He followed this up with The Smoke Jumper (2001), whose titular protagonist is in love with his best friend’s wife, and who exiles himself as a war photographer. Next came The Divide (2005), about a wealthy New York couple who holiday in Montana, where the body of their eco-terrorist daughter is discovered frozen in the mountain ice.

Evans and Jenny divorced in 1998. He then married the singer-songwriter Charlotte Gordon Cumming. In 2008, while on a visit to Gordon Cumming’s brother’s estate in Scotland, Evans picked mushrooms for a family lunch. What he thought were ceps were instead highly poisonous webcaps. Evans, Gordon Cumming and her brother were all placed on kidney dialysis. Three years later, Evans’s heart began to suffer under the strain of dialysis, and his daughter Lauren provided him with a kidney; Gordon Cumming later received one donated from a friend.

At the time of the poisoning, Evans had almost finished his fifth novel, The Brave (2009), about a family’s hidden secrets.

When he began writing again, thinking for the second time he needed to finish writing before he died, he said the book changed direction. “I found new empathy with the characters ... it became more emotional,” he said. Gordon Cumming released an album of songs tied to the novel, and they campaigned together for kidney care and organ transplants.

The couple lived in a 14th-century manor house in Devon once owned by the film director Robert Bolt.

Evans is survived by Charlotte, their children, Finlay and Lauren, a son, Max, from his first marriage, and by Harry, his son from a relationship with the television producer Jane Hewland.

🔔 Nicholas Benbow Evans, writer and television producer, born 26 July 1950; died 9 August 2022

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[zombiesama]

I love how there’s no one canon name for the Prince of Cannock or the Princess of Moonbrooke but there are like a dozen different names either from the original game or from later appearances

like just Cannock has been called all of these names:

Bran

Glynn

Talint (my personal favorite)

Numor

Lars

Orfeo

Artho

Esgar

Frey

John

Art

Gary

Karl

Eric

Drew

Paul

Tonnura

Arthur

Cain

Cookie

Conan

Sukesan

Paulos

Rand

Caradoc

Rickerd

Princeton and probably more that I missed

[its-padfoot]

Do they have exes/past relationships? Do they have any experience? What were their relationships like? Do they harbor feelings, regrets, or anger?

ooc:

Alec: Teve alguns relacionamentos, entre as exes dele temos a Winnie e a Penny. I want to say Mary too but I'm not sure. HAHAHAHA Ele e a Winnie tinham tudo pra dar certo se nao fosse a Isolde HAHAHHA e agora no caso Winnie tá no bad romance né HAHAHAHA Alec é super o ex tranquilo que geralmente termina num clima de boa com as exes, tanto que ainda é amigo e próximo delas. Ele é meio paçoca né? Mas agora finalmente se declarou pra amada e vamos ver no que dá. Mia: O primeiro amor dela foi o Caradoc, eles tinham uma pequena implicância um com o outro, mais ela com ele. Acabaram terminando porque o Doc é mais velho e se formou e ficou difícil levar o relacionamento adiante. Não ficou nenhum 'hard feelings' mas ainda é um pouco awkward entre eles. Não rolou nada em turnos, mas no meu pov Doc kind was the first for her. Mia agora tá com o Evan que é meio que ex melhor amigo do Doc 'it's complicated'; Então tem esse semi clima também. Lia: Ela teve um lance com o Pacey, onde ele deu um migué, ela caiu e rolou uma pegação. Mas depois que ela descobriu que ele não tá no mesmo nível social dela, ela meio que nega até a morte HAHAHAH mas eles meio que tem um combinado social, o Pacey meio que 'deve' ela por ter enganado e ela vai cobrar o preço soon. E ela é bff que já foi colorida do Wilkes, sempre foi muitocasual entre eles, mas se perguntarem a ela, vai dizer que são super migos e só. Afinal, it was just sex, nothing serious. Maddox: Esse aí não se apega jamais. But fun fact, a Lorelai é uma ex dele. Eles tiveram um romance em Hogwarts, ela se apaixonou e achou que iam ter algo sério, mas foi só um pente pra ele. Ele não lembra de nada. Então o que será que vem aí? Lorelai vai deixar isso barato?

Emma: Nessa releitura do Era não lembro de ter combinado nada pra ela de ex, mas a Emma tá focada no trabalho e só. Um homem na vida já dá muito trabalho. Yelena: O marido ainda não é um ex né, mas vem aí. HAHAHAH e não vai ser um ex de boa que vai perseguir os lovebirds. Charlie: HAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA não tem ex, mas ela pegou em ocasiões separadas, a Dianna, o Daniel e o River (não rolou todos turnos, mas foi o combinado, vocês me prometeram). E no hard feelings, jamais. Sirius: Eu lembro que tinha comentado com a Camille e a gente combinou que ele e a Drew tiveram um lance back in Hogwarts, não turnamos nem nada, mas fica aí pra lista. E por mim eles tão de boa. HAHAHAHA A Marlene é uma ex que agora é atual de novo também, claramente no hard feelings, apesar de que ele ainda gostaria de dar uns sopapos no Vince. Heath: Crescendo, sempre soube que iria acabar se casando com a Ash, jovenzinhos eles se pegavam de vez em quando, because why not. Mas quando começou a cair mais a ficha que eles seriam mesmo marido e mulher, essa atração que eles tinham meio que brochou legal. Eles se amam bastante, mas não são 'the one' for each other. Pippa: Pippa cresceu meio super protegida, meio inocente das coisas do mundo. Ela é meio sonhadora demais. Não tem ex e não tem experiências assim, a pobi. Niamh: She's got a long list of ex lovers, apenas isso. Mackenzie: Ela tinha uma crush fenomenal no amigo de infância Jake Kravitz, mas que foi superada há anos, ainda que algumas pessoas ao redor dela não acreditem nisso. O menino está casado, prestes a ser pai, ela já superou gente, juro! HAHAHAH Liesel: A Liesel é inexperiente no amor, não tem como ser diferente. Ela é completamente fechada pra pessoas que não seja o grupinho próximo dela. Ela ama o Dimi desde sempre, mas é a velha história do medo de estragar tudo. Fica mais complicado ainda já que os dois são órfãos e a única 'família' um do outro. A ideia de ficar sem ele é aterrorizante pra ela, então Lis prefere nunca viver esse amor do que perder o Dimi. Contudo, numa noite dessas acabou rolando algo entre eles e atualmente o clima tá bem awkward e triste, porque o Dimi disse que eles cometeram um erro e prefere que esqueçam e não falem mais sobre. Adele: A Ade é um caso complicado, ela não é assumida pra família e usa toda a postura elitista como máscara. É fácil se esconder na cortina de fumaça de alguém arrogante e intocável. Ela teve um lance com a Elise back in France e agora descobriu que Elise tem andado por aí HAHAHAH digamos que são ex casinhos e que agora estão metidas em um balaio de gatas. Finn: O Finn não presta, period. He's a playboy and a player. Não confiem nesse macho que ele é cilada, as exes odeiam ele porque ele é meio alpinista social também, problemático até falar chega. Dirk: Ele tinha certa reputação em Hogwarts, talvez tenha sido o que atraiu e repeliu a Dom ao mesmo tempo. Não sei nomear uma ex dele que tá no jogo AHAHAHAHA mas bem a cara dele de ter algumas infelizes com ele, mas ele ainda é jovem, tem muito o que aprender. Sei que ficou meio all over the place, mas espero ter ajudado.

[dearborncaradoc]

the promise

LOCATION: The Rosier Estate DATE: February 14th, 1982 STATUS: closed | @justicebones

Their mission has been a success for all of ten minutes, the time it took Caradoc and Edgar to come back upstairs and notice that something had gone very wrong. The too-familiar sight of silver masks and dark cloaks quickly explained the chaos of guests screaming and running around in search of help or safety or a loved one lost in the frenzy. 

‘Promise me, you’ll find Amelia,’ Edgar had asked him, after he had finally agreed to go and take the Orb away from the chaos that raged inside. ‘Promise, you’ll bring her to safety.’

Caradoc had promised him, without hesitation but with all the conviction of someone that wouldn’t leave without Amelia. And it was because of that promise that he had stayed behind, fighting his way through the rooms and corridors of the Rosier Manor, looking for her, trying to keep his mind clear of the worry that he felt over having had to let Edgar go on his own, the worry for Amelia and all those that hadn’t been prepared for things to go so wrong, and then there was the anger. It was hard not to ask himself how all of this had started. Had some messed up? Did someone warned the Death Eaters of their plan? But he couldn’t stop to ponder any of these possibilities, he needed to find “Amelia!”

She was fighting. Of course, she was---it almost drew a smile out of him. Hel, he needed to get a grip on himself. 

“Behind you,” he shouted, casting a spell towards the Death Eater that had been coming from that direction.

[spellnbone]

“Remember Me” / Caradoc & Edgar / kinda like ops I took out the wrong memory, or something like that

Early February, 1982

“I’m sorry but I just have to say it,” Fabian sighed as he finally set his fork down, “but this cheese would be so good with red wine.”

“Bless!” Edgar’s hand landed on the table as he almost choked on a piece of bread, hurrying to say: “I’m so glad you’re saying that, I was holding back all night!”

“Even I must admit I had that thought,” Caradoc agreed and another wave of laughter broke out of his guests. “It’s too late now, though. I cannot have another slice. Either of you want the last pan?”

Both Fabian and Edgar covered their stomachs with their hands, shaking their head vividly.

“Please, no,” Fabian wheezed.

“I don’t think I can survive another bite,” Edgar agreed.

Caradoc shrugged and took the little pan out of the heater. But instead of putting it on his plate, he just set it aside.

“Hey, now! What are you doing?” Fabian asked, offended on behalf of the cheese.

“Well, no one wants it? I’m not going to let it burn?”

“Sacrilege,” Edgar whispered.

“Blascheesmy,” Fabian agreed.

Caradoc fought with his own amusement as well. If Strongarm cottage hadn’t been completely emptied of any drinks weeks ago, you’d truly think the three of them were drunk. “Well?” he asked instead, somewhat managing his composure. “Who’s taking it then?”

“Fine,” Edgar sighed and reached over to take the pan. “This cheese is going to haunt me tonight, though.” He scraped the slice out from it over the last few bites of potato. “So good, but ... I’ll hear of it again.”

Fabian leaned forward, that glisten in his eyes Edgar remembered so well from when they were young, indicating that a joke was about to be made: “Like Amelia’s ghost in case she dies first?”

Edgar’s head tipped back as the laugh rang free.

This time, however, Caradoc’s silence was more poignant. He frowned. “Why would you say that?” Even for his usually fairly composed voice, it sounded stern and cold now.

Fabian blinked. “What?”

“Speak about the possibility of Amelia’s death like that.”

“Oh, it was just the joke from yesterday.”

“I don’t remember such a joke, and I doubt I’d find it funny.”

Fabian’s mouth opened, closed again. He glanced over to Edgar.

He too as sitting up straight now, puzzled.

Cardoc shrugged, picked up his water. “It’s of no importance. I just thought it a bit ... crass.”

“You don’t remember, do you?” Edgar asked. All smile was gone from his lips.

The water glass had almost met his lips as Caradoc paused. Then he took a sip and set the glass down, playing it casual. “No. I do, of course."

“When we said how funny it would be if she haunted me whenever I baked cookies.”

Caradoc nodded. “Yes.”

Fabian looked confused. “We never talked about that, did we?” And just as he said this, he caught on.

So did Caradoc. He didn’t move, hand still around the water glass. He didn’t have to look up to know Edgar’s gaze was sharp as it lay on him.

“Caradoc.”

“A mistake.”

“Caradoc.”

“Just the wrong one, I’m sure.”

“Caradoc.”

“Something like that. Happens.”

“Caradoc.” Their eyes met. “Now.”

Caradoc hesitated. Finally he took a breath and drew his shoulders back, turned back to the potato he’d sworn he was done with. “After dinner, perhaps.”

Edgar rose to his feet.

Their eyes met a second time. Longer now. Fiercer. Then.

Caradoc ducked his head. Pushing his chair back as well, he put the napkin stiffly on the table, and without another word, he left to go upstairs. To his room. To where he’d hid his memories.

Fabian watched him go from the corners of his eyes, not quite daring to even turn his head. Only after the door fell close and even his footsteps were no longer to be heard, he exhaled.

It stirred Edgar who, jaws still clenching, sat back down, staring ahead.

For a moment it was silent and Fabian fidgeted with the empty cheese pan on his plate. He took a breath to speak two times before finally, upon the third time, daring to lean over to Edgar and quietly say: “You know, it always feels a bit like mom and dad are fighting when you do that.”

Edgar blinked. Turned his head and found a tentative, shy but cheeky smile on his friend’s face. He couldn’t help but let out his tension at the sight of it, almost in something like a chuckle. No longer one of those belly-laughs from earlier on, but a very soft one. Delicate and voiceless. “I’m sorry. I just-... I can’t stand it when he does that.”

“I know,” Fabian nodded.

“Just-... The idea that one day he might just-...” He shook his head.

“He won’t. It takes more than the accidental loss of one memory to forget a whole friend.”

Edgar cast him a smile. It was grateful but still soft, still full of his melancholy. “A whole friend, hm? Not just a half?”

“Depends.” Fabian shrugged, leaning back on his chair. “Top half or bottom half? Which would you be?”

Edgar grinned, and had he not looked away he would’ve seen the glisten of pride that passed Fabian’s eyes.

Not much time had passed until Caradoc came back, but before either Edgar or Caradoc could say anything, find the right words to apologise or try to move on, Fabian jumped to action and called: “Caradoc Dearborn! If you had to sleep with a mermaid, would you prefer her top half or her bottom half to be a fish?”

“What the Hel...”

And Edgar laughed out loud.

[homenum-revelio-hq]

BASICS.

NAME. Alastor Moody AGE: 44 ALUMNI HOUSE. Ravenclaw BLOOD STATUS. Halfblood ORDER RANK. Inner Circle FACECLAIM. Andrew Lincoln

PAST.

Alastor Moody didn’t set-out planning to devote his life to fighting the forces of darkness. There was no childhood trauma to push him onto that path, no great loss that he felt compelled to avenge. It was curiosity that drew him to his career more than conviction -- a curiosity that many (his mum, especially) insisted would be better served in the Department of Mysteries than in law enforcement, but Alastor had never been the head-in-the-sky type of Ravenclaw. He liked practical magic, the sort that got your hands dirty and maybe left a few scars, but where you also knew you’d accomplished something. So he took his high N.E.W.T.s and his grubby-but-untarnished family connections and joined the Auror Department. It was interesting work, but it was still just a job -- until it wasn’t. There was no one, big, defining moment that tipped the scales; Alastor just kept doing the work, fighting the necessary fights, learning the necessary magicks (can’t fight the Dark Arts if you don’t know the Dark Arts) and getting through the day. Eventually, he realized that it wasn’t curiosity driving him anymore as much as it was a calling. Not that Alastor considered himself a hero - and he’d snarl at anyone who dared say as much whether to his face or in a Prophet article about his latest arrest - no, there was just a job that needed doing and he was doing it. And doing it, and doing it...

PRESENT.

He was managing. Dark wizards were being taken down by him and his team, leaving scars along the way. Alastor thought that this was his life. Until a damn Dark Lord popped out of the woodwork and made everything worse. His job turned into war and the Ministry became a battlefield. He was approached by Albus Dumbledore early on to help start an underground group dedicated to fighting Voldemort - it was the only thing they could do when it was hard to tell friend from foe, even with the people who had sat next to you for years. Alastor is something of an expert in the Dark Arts -- not the way dark wizards are, but all Aurors who want to live past their training know them a little and Alastor knew them better than most. Still, no matter how much he learned, he never found himself falling for their allure. People say that all those years digging into the deepest corners of the Dark have made him paranoid, but Alastor would argue that he’s not paranoid, just educated. If more people knew what was really out there, they’d be even twitchier than him. His knowledge helps him make a solid leader for the Order, even if his tactics are a bit unconventional. He might be loud, but he’s just trying to get the members to understand the truth about this war they’re fighting. The energy that all these kids in the Order have is inspiring... but sometimes all they “inspire” in Alastor is the urge to bang his head against a wall for an hour or two. Still, he’s here - he’s fighting. He’ll probably die doing it. He’s not afraid to go... just wants to make sure he’s leaving the battle in capable hands before he does.

CONNECTIONS.

KINGSLEY SHACKLEBOLT. Partners in career and Order, Kingsley might be the only person Alastor considers a friend - though who knows what the other would say about him. There’s not a lot of people Alastor trusts in this world, but Kinglsey is one of them. They do more together for the Order than even Albus Dumbledore. It’s not easy work, but it’s work that needs done - and Kingsley is the best person for the job. He’s the only one that has the ability to shut Alastor up when he’s angry-yelling at the younger members.  CARADOC DEARBORN. One of the few who seems to really have his head screwed-on straight - emphasis on seems. That stoic, ice-veined façade might fool the other kids, but to Alastor it just looks like a powder keg waiting to be primed. Something is going to break past Caradoc’s self-control at some point and when the real him comes out, it’s not going to be pretty. Alastor just hopes he’s there to point the resulting explosion at the Death Eaters where it’ll do some good, rather than at their allies. Although maybe that would help wake some of them up, too! DEDALUS DIGGLE. If Diggle could just get his damn head out of the clouds, then maybe Alastor would be more impressed. As it is, he notices that Dedalus has a knack for ideas and details, but Alastor was a firm no when they discussed the potential to bring him into the Inner Circle. He’s just not cut out for the job, even with those brains of his. 

Alternate FC Suggestions: Idris Elba, Nikolaj Coster-Waldau

ALASTOR IS OPEN.

[amorfatihq]

THE FOLLOWING HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED! Make sure to turn in your character account within 24 hours (or request an extension if necessary). Please also take a look through our post-acceptance checklist and make sure you’ve completed everything applicable on that list. We’re so excited to have you!

Alastor Moody (Idris Elba) played by Kat

Caradoc Dearborn (Kit Harrington) played by Rey

Dolores Umbridge (Jodie Comer) played by Drew

Tarquin McTavish (Matthew Daddario) played by Zahra

[dyinglightroleplay]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒.

NAME : James Ahmad Potter RELATIONSHIP TO THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX : Member ( active - duty ) AGE / BIRTHDATE : 19 Years Old / born 27 March 1960 at 6:27am GMT ZODIAC SIGN : Aries ( sun ), Aries ( moon ), Aries ( rising ) EDUCATION : Hogwarts Graduate ( Gryffindor House ) BLOOD STATUS : Pureblood

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

✧     Ambrose Thomas ( platonic ) ✧     Marlene McKinnon ( antagonistic ) ✧     Caradoc Dearborn ( wild card ) ✧     Lily Evans ( fiancée )

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍.

Entering the Shrieking Shack following the Battle of Hogwarts.  It is unknown if he was accompanied.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒 : 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍.

PLAYER : Mod Rivka FACECLAIM : Fady Elsayed URL : @marautyr

𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONE

ZERO / RISING. * How is your character perceived by others?  What mask do they wear, and is there more than one?

ARIES, TRIPLED.  Beginnings, always, love or light or success or birth, a sharing of progress both inward and OUTWARD.  Rising, it’s heart - magic : effusive affection, agape love, deep wells of empathy and compassion, boundless creativity and warmth, sunlight, a space made and a space kept / SUN RISES and turn inward, toward the everlasting conversation of a well - cultivated inner life full of opposites, intuition blocked by repression, emotion tempered by fear of rejection, pre - dawn or twilight, half - light, somewhere in - between.  Always rendered as overflowing, Aries is more beginnings than endings ––––––– or perhaps even ONLY beginnings, in spite of the possibility for endings.  They live in that moment, in the sunrise of opportunity, of love, of closeness, not quite caring about the eventual necessity of sundown.

At this level of blinding brightness, James is an easy person to misread, in a lot of ways : he can seem to be a relatively quick study, he can seem simple, he can seem one - dimensional in his loud, intrusive, high - flying way.  ( James has never been able to not run toward the flames, the danger, the anger, the fear, the unknowable, the unknown : one day, they very well may rise up to meet him. )  And maybe that’s what everyone’s just telling themselves, now, that all this is bravery.  Because all bravery is grown up out of foolishness, some way, isn’t it ?  And it’s easy to write him off as moody, hot - headed, childish, impulsive, aggressive, particularly when it becomes as obvious as it seemingly does that he doesn’t care.  And that’s what is so singular about James Potter : he is, largely, unremarkable except in his AUTHENTICITY.   For better or worse, James doesn’t wear a mask, in fact he couldn’t even if it was required of him ; he’s a lover and a fighter, a man of emotions at volume regardless of their temperature, with his heart irrevocably attached to his sleeve.  To those that don’t know him, this is easily misinterpreted --- --- or truly, just interpreted --- --- as overwhelming, obnoxious, invasive.  If anything, the mask he wears is the subversion of others’ perception, it’s a dogged refusal to do anything but exist precisely how he means to, how he’d like to, regardless of expectation or consequence or outside judgement or input.  What you see is what you get, and he is unbothered about whether or not you like it.

ONE / THE SUN. * Choose one to explore : what about their personality, general preferences, sense of self / ego, or fundamental traits attracted you to them?

I’ve always had a very specific Type ™ of character that pulls me in, and James dovetails right in there so easily ––––––– he’s a man of extremes, a character that’s easily reduced to two or three obvious traits ( especially by fandom ), but also one that carries so many layers that I’d love to peel away and explore.  He’s brash, loud, egotistical, but all of that comes from a place of boyish authenticity, and it lies beside equal empathy, loyalty, and steadfastness, even if some of those manage to eclipse the others, especially when he was younger.  He’s a polarizing figure ; he’s not necessarily easy to like, or easy to get to know, and he definitely makes enemies as easily as he makes friends.  He’s been an unrepentant bully and an equally fiercely loyal friend.  He’s determined at the same time he’s arrogant, he’s conceited, he’s passionate and reckless in equal measure.

( You can hardly discount James’ stubborn determination when it comes to his friends.  After all, he did spend three years teaching himself to become an Animagus just so one of his closest friends wouldn’t have to feel alone.  However, that’s not just stubbornness, and it’s not just some crazy disregard for rules.  The root of James’ determination, always, is outward facing : he wants to take care of his own, he wants to make himself indispensable, he wants to shield people and stand in the gap.  Yes, especially when he was younger, there was a major element of ‘ look at me ’ at play, but as James has gotten older, his determination hasn’t ever waned, but simply shifted.  The young man who at twelve or thirteen was so determined to help is friend has become the young adult who is equally determined to fight Lord Voldemort, to expose his corruption, to track down Dark Wizards to his detriment.  James’ determination is all-consuming ; he burns bright, and hot, and has no problem allowing himself to be consumed if he thinks the end result will be ultimately beneficial. )

Alongside, James’ arrogance is almost cartoonish.  He’s cocky, self - assured in the extreme, and really, there’s little stopping him.  All of this comes from a very deep desire to be needed, to be the best, to be the one at the center of everything ––––––– he was raised as the apple of his parents’ eyes, told that could do anything, be anything, and he holds that so close to his chest that it’s become compulsive, almost defensive.  James doesn’t need approval from anyone to know that he’s good at what he does, or so he thinks, when in reality his own arrogance has built up as a way to ensure that he doesn’t.  James is arrogant so that he doesn’t have to be needy ; if he can convince himself he’s the best, he doesn’t need to live or die by someone else’s opinion, or worry that it may not match his own.  It’s a very self - fulfilling situation, and one he certainly needs to unlearn ( but likely won’t without a major event or loss to help him ).

Particularly now, involved in the Order, the duality of James’ passion but lack of focus will come under heavy scrutiny.  To be blunt, James has spent the majority of his life relatively charmed ; he’s taken a million risks, but never had the bill come due, always managing to escape from punishment or consequences at the last moment.  But there’s a marked difference between breaking Hogwarts rules to sneak out of unmarked passageways and fighting a war, and I don’t think the magnanimity of that difference has quite dawned on him, yet.  He’s still riding very high on the thrill of the subterfuge, the excitement of War and of involvement in the Order, and he hasn’t yet really had a taste for the reality of it yet.  Sure, the Battle will certainly give him a little perspective, but even that will likely do little to dispel his nearly lifelong belief in his own ability to bounce back from nearly everything ; to hear James tell it, he just has good luck.  That will not always be the case.  But he’s invested, he’s so passionate that he’ll let it consume him ––––––– the problem is, he won’t ever see the obvious pitfall until it’s too late.

All of these qualities --- --- and their existence inside duality --- --- is what drew me to James, is what keeps me fascinated with him.

TWO / THE MOON. * Which color would you associate most strongly with them and the emotions that dominate them?  Describe however you’d like.

GOLD.  The indestructible tomb of the Pharaohs, Ra appearing as a mountain of gold, the skin of the Gcds, wealth and security indescribable all bound up in one of the softest metals known to man.  Something divine, ceremonial, certainly, but beautiful, playful, glimmering and winking in firelight --- --- Mamma’s musical bracelets and the ring on Lilah’s finger, the blazing - brilliance of a sunset seen as it sinks into the Mediterranean Sea --- --- warm, enveloping, unforgettable even behind closed eyes.  The hottest heart of a flame, the snap of a gilded - scarlet banner, the elusive shimmer of the Snitch as it flirts its way across the pitch ; something that refuses to dull, but shows its wear, showing scratches and scrapes and buffed - out engraving as a past un - erasable.

THREE / MERCURY. * What is this character’s area of expertise? Where do they excel?

In school, James took to Transfiguration like a natural, because he was ––––––– he was one of the few Hogwarts students to excel in the subject so quickly that he was invited to attend more advanced lectures ahead of his year.  However, much to his professor’s chagrin, James refused, choosing instead to keep behind so that he could continue studying alongside his friends.  ( His increasing boredom became more evident in class disruptions, but once James found himself in pursuit of a new project — — a.k.a. animagus study — — his natural talent and studious nature took over once more. )

As illustrated by the creation of the Marauders’ Map, James also has an eidetic memory, put to use more for secret passages and pranks than much else, but an area of expertise all the same !

[hcze]

THEIMPALPABLE‌:

 A SOFT SIGH falls from tender lips; gentle smile managing to form at his story of how he believes time doesn’t exist whilst being at his work. She surely can’t tell him how to live his life, but she thinks it’d be nice if he could get a PAUSE and the sleep he needs for a change. Lexine feels that one of these days, she’s gonna find him passed out, outside his apartment’s door.

 “Well, honestly, I think it’s great you…enjoy your job so much, you d-don’t, even take time into account b-but———” Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and she can’t help but jump slightly in surprise. She’s not expecting anyone, unless…

 BUZZ-BUZZ-BUZZ———BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!!

 Three short buzzes and a long one. She knows who that is. Fingers of her hands stretch and bend as she stands up; small chuckle adorning her mouth. “So-Sorry, I’m gonna—-just a second.” She points toward the door, before politely disappearing from sight.

  From afar, there’s the sound of a door creaking and opening, and then, an EFFUSIVE tone chimes in; led by the plopping of items near the entrance.

  “YOOOOO, Lexy-Lex! How’s it goin’? Sorry for not texting you that I was gonna pop in for a sec, but like, it was improvised, ja feel? I was ‘round the neighborhood and was like ‘I wonder how my BFF Lex’s doing’ and now I’m here!” Cue the sound of a door closing, followed by quick steps that can’t be really stopped, heading into the living room. “AW, GEEZ, YOU GOT SOME MUFFINS UP IN HERE? YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS——” But then, as this newcomer tries to reach out, he notices there’s someone else in the room.

 “Oh, my bad—–pops taught me better than that—sorry, dude, I get too excited sometimes.” Caradoc talks to Drew as if he knows him, even though he really doesn’t. “Oh, uh…did I interrupt somethin’ Lex? Aw, man…”

  “No, we were just chatting. Right, Drew?” Lexine chimes in, chuckling. She knows this is the way Caradoc is. Always stumbling; getting around everywhere due to his outgoing behavior. “Drew, this is Caradoc, my best friend. We’ve been…best friends ever since I can remember.”

  Caradoc extends a gloved hand Drew’s way; a big, goofy grin upon his face. “’Sup Drew! I’m Caradoc. You can totes call me Doc, if you wanna. Or, like, anything else, really.”

𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐘 , and s soft smile pulls at the corner of his lips, head falling forwards gently. It’s the same thing that Mrs. Talbot has told him: you need to rest, you need to sleep. You’re not some kind of  superman, young man!  He could hear her in his mind and the smile on his lips grows. Drew knows that both his neighbor and Lex want the best for him and that includes a better lifestyle, at least when it comes to sleeping.

    ❛ I know, I know… It’s just that, I - ❜ the sound of the doorbell rings in his head too, completely snatching the words out of his mind and his lips. The musician gives a nod and a smile, quite curious though. In the meantime, he reaches out for another muffin happily -quite like a child with a new toy- and chills back giving it a bite.

The sound of a new and unfamiliar voice comes in, triggering colors in his mind so wild with its ups and downs, lines and shapes, so ENTERTAINING. However he doesn’t expect the man to come rushing in and he struggles standing, nearly chocking, shaking his head and clearing his throat.

   ❛ NO, no, we were just chatting indeed. ❜ Drew smiles big looking up at Caradoc and listening to Lex. It was exciting getting to know her friends too, like a little bit more about her by extension of other people. Taking his hand in his, Drew gives it a firm shake.  ❛  Nice to meet you Doc! Well, I’m Drew as Lex said ❜ A chuckle  ❛ It’s just Drew, some people think it’s because I’m an Andrew, but nope. Drew as in Drew Barrymore. ❜ he laughs more then

      ❛ I saw you were going to take a muffin before well, the introduction. Take oooone or two… or three. I was telling Lex she’ll make me gain weight with such delicacies! ❜

[swandrabbles]

Marauders Drabbles!

1)

              “Please try to persuade him to come, for my sake.”

              Remus frowned deeply as he looked at Sirius. Sirius who had spent most of the past week alternating between bouts of fury, and dissolving into the carpet in fits of inconsolable sadness. Remus dragged his fingers through his hair, effectively adding to the already out of control mess that it was.

              “Sirius, maybe you should just apologize to him.” Remus said after a moments contemplation.

              “I can’t.”

              “Why can’t you?”

              Sirius sat up from where he had been slumped over on his bed, fixing his eyes on Remus with such intensity, Remus wanted to check his chest for the hole that was probably being bore through it.

              “Because it was his stupid fault!” Sirius snapped, crossing his arms. In the three years they had been at Hogwarts, James and Sirius had only had two fights. One first year over James having accidentally broken Sirius’ favorite quill, and now. Though if Remus recalled the facts straight, this was most definitely Sirius’ fault.

              “Sirius, I’m not sure that purposefully dumping pumpkin juice down the back of Lily’s robes was his fault.” Remus took a chance and sat on the bed beside Sirius, his feet not quite touching the floor.

              “It is too his fault. How was I to know that James likes her.” Sirius muttered. “Why does he like her! She’s stuffy and rude and calls him names and won’t even talk to him.” Sirius brooded.

              “I’m not sure why…is that what this is all about?” Remus wanted to laugh. “You dumped juice on her because you found out that James likes her?”

              “No.” Sirius muttered, but his ears had gone pink. He looked away from Remus pointedly.

              Remus smiled sympathetically, lightly touching Sirius on the shoulder. “Why are you so mad that James has a crush?”

              “Because what if he doesn’t want to be friends with us anymore, because she doesn’t like me.” Sirius looked at Remus, fear somewhere behind his steely gaze.

              “Oh Sirius.” Remus let his hands fall to his lap. “I don’t think that would ever happen…” Remus wasn’t honestly so sure, but he understood Sirius’ fear. Understood what it was like to be left behind, to fear seeing the backs of those who he cared about.

              “I hope you’re right.” Sirius whispered.

    2)

                She opened her handbag and tipped the contents onto the floor.

              Three lip colors. A handful of change, A sadly dilapidated mint, and six Polaroid pictures. Lily’s eyes widened. She had completely forgotten she’d stuck them in the bag that had ended up lost in a box at the back of her closet. She fingered the smudgy white back, reading the date scribbled in Remus’ normally careful pen.

              “May 21st, 1977.” She grinned and flipped it over. A much younger version of herself smiled as she wiggled up under James’ arm. Sirius was planting a kiss on Remus who looked utterly embarrassed, though he was smiling. James was trying to hold the Camera at an angle to get all four of them in the frame. They’d been on a group date out to Hogsmead shortly before graduating. Remus had insisted they go one last time as students, and it had been one of the best nights of Seventh year.

              “Mom?”

              Lily startled, then smiled. “In here, Harry!”

              A moment later her Son’s face poked around the door to the closet. At thirteen he looked so much like James did, just as gangly, just as unkempt. James kept saying that Harry would grow into his ears, after all, his father had eventually.

              “Why are you in the closet?” Harry came in, plopping down next to her.

              “Just going through some old boxes.” Lily said, smiling and holding up the photos. “Finding some fun little bits and bobs.”

              “Should you be doing that? Dad said not to left anything heavy.” Harry frowned. Lily snorted, rolling her eyes.

              “You and your father both. Merlin’s beard.” She set her hand on her eight month pregnant belly. “Your sister is happy to stay put, and I haven’t been lifting anything, prefect’s honor.” Lily held up her fingers together.

              “Doesn’t that only work if you are actively a prefect?” Harry grinned. “And Remus and Sirius are here. Remus is pretty excited about something, wouldn’t tell me what though.” Harry muttered. Lily laughed.

              “Well, we had better go find out, I’m sure they’d like to see these old photos. Help me up?” She gave him a wide-eyed look. “I made the mistake of sitting.”

              Harry stood and helped Lily to her feet. She handed him the photos and he glanced through them.

              “Wow. You guys were so young.” He grinned.

              “We were, but you know…I just don’t feel like much has changed.” She laughed. “I think we’ll always be a little young at heart.”

 3)

              They found his diary under his bed.

              James looked at Sirius, who looked at James. The pair were silent for nearly a solid minute.

              “Well…I mean. That is probably the best source of information we’ll get.” James said in a hushed tone.

              “Yeah but…what if it’s booby trapped or something.” Sirius whispered back, staring at the leatherbound journal.

              “Do you really think it would be, after how many clues we had to follow to get it?” James frowned, looking down at the scrap of parchment in his fingers.

              It had started as an innocent enough adventure. Sirius and James had stumbled across an old classroom that hadn’t been used in a fear years while attempting to skirt past Filtch, had gone rummaging through a few desks, and had found what looked like a clue. That clue had led to another, and another, and over the course of three weeks, the pair had chased about the castle.

              Now they were looking at the fruits of their labors.

              “We should take it, before the seventh years get back from class.” Sirius decided, and reached out, snatching the journal from where it had landed with a dull thud from the hidden compartment under the bed.

              Nothing happened.

              James looked at Sirius. Sirius looked back at James.

              Then they both bolted.

              Once safely away from the dorm for the Gryffindor Seventh years, and back in their respective dorm, James shut the door and looked at the book held tightly in Sirius’ fingers. He bit his lower lip in apprehension. “I can’t believe it was that close the entire time.”

              “Me either.” Sirius whispered.

              “We should open it.” James muttered.

              “We should.” Sirius agreed.

                Dear Future Mischief Makers,

                             Hullo and Hullo. We see that you have located our legacy. Our treasure. Our most valuable and prized collection of brilliant ideas, as transposed to page in this book. It is with our greatest pleasure that we present you, O! most worthy seekers of the pranking arts, with a guide to the Prewett Way. A guide for all those who desire debauchery, jolly good chortling, or possible detention.

              We hope that this book, now in your very dedicated hands, provides aide to all your young mischievous way. Inside are the recipes to devastate your enemies, seek vengeance on your comrades, or just cause general chaos.

              With great power comes great responsibility and so on.

              Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

 4)

                The kiss reminded him of potions lessons in school, when if the right two ingredients were put together, they’d explode.

              Fabian clutched at the front of Caradoc’s robes, his heart hammering in his ribs like a bird trying to take flight. He was afraid to open his eyes. Afraid to step back, or look at Caradoc and see what his face was doing.

              And then a hand was cupping his cheek.

              This was no place to be kissing. In the forest, shrouded by darkness, illuminated by the silver of moonlight shifting across their skin. Somewhere out there, death eaters were waiting. Waiting for the chance to obliterate them. Fabian needed to leave, to let Caradoc go, but the idea seemed impossible.

              He pulled back enough to glance at Caradoc’s face. His eyes were closed. His profile was sharp and handsome a mix of shadow on shadow.

              “What took you so long.” He murmured at last, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

              “Fear.” Fabian whispered. “Fear of losing you.”

              “You’ll never loose me.” Caradoc said quietly.

              Somewhere a mile or so to there left, shouting could be heard. Fabian’s pulse quickened, the heat of passion freezing solid in his veins. He was still afraid, but now for a very different reason.

              “You can’t stay here.” Caradoc’s tone was terse, fearful.

              “I’m not leaving you.” Fabian drew his wand. “I’m tried of standing on the sidelines while you and Gideon fight.”      

              Caradoc eyed him with a sort of warmth that made Fabian’s cheeks suffuse with red. He held his wand up.

              “Now, let’s get rid of these bloody bastards so I can strip that shirt of you.”

              It was Caradoc’s turn to blush. Even in the darkness, Fabian was gratified with the darkening of his already deeply tanned skin.

              “Easy now, Prewett. I don’t want your brother’s wand in my face.” He teased, his chuckle deep.

              “He’ll have to deal with it.” Fabian huffed.

              At that moment, a curse whizzed passed them and their words were cut off as three death eaters burst from the shadows.

              “Hand it over, Dearborn.” One voice said. Though the mask obscured his face, Fabian swore he knew it. He wasn’t sure from who, but the sneering tone was too familiar.

              “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Caradoc side idly. Fabian couldn’t believe how calm he sounded. Collected, unshaken. Fabian knew Caradoc was terrified, but now he could have been having a conversation about the weather.

              “The map. We knew you have it. Hand it over, or we will kill you.” The sneering voice said again.

              “I am under the impression that you will kill me either way.” Caradoc shrugged.

              There was silence, and then, without a moment more to think, the clearing lit up with spellfire.

 5)

              He opened the door to find her standing there, crying.

              “Lily?” James’ voice came out funny as he spoke. Lily startled and stumbled back into the desk. She tried to wipe her eyes, but it was no use, the tears just kept going, streaking her freckled cheeks.

              “Oh James-“ She choked.

              James had seen Lily in many situations, in many moods. He’d even seen her cry before. In all six years they’d been to school together he had seen her in a great many ways. This however, was different. Her sorrow was so intense he was sure he’d be able to reach out and run his fingers through it like water.

              “What’s happened?” He shut the classroom door behind him, reached out to her without thinking, touching her shoulder.

              “It’s Severus-“ She choked, not pulling away. “I know we don’t…we haven’t…I had no idea how bad it had gotten…”

              James wasn’t able to follow. He knew that since the Fight in fifth year when Snape had publicly humiliated Lily they hadn’t spoken much, but he had no idea what would upset her so terribly.

              “Lily…” James’ voice went low, gentle and steady. He pulled his folded kerchief to press gently under her eyes. He was still not sure how he hadn’t been given a black eye. “I’m not sure I’m following, but I’ll listen if you tell me.”

              “I can’t-“ She choked. “I can’t—I know you, James. I know what you’ll do. I can’t…I can’t let you do it-“

              “Lily, what has he done?” James’ tone went stern, firm. Lily looked at him with shinning, brimmed green eyes.

              “Promise me. Promise me you won’t run off and tell.” She whispered, her voice hoarse.

              James didn’t want to make that promise. He was sure whatever it was, he wouldn’t want to keep that promise. He then remembered all the times Lily had turned a blind eye for him and his friends. For Remus.

              “I promise.” James said, taking her hands in his. “I give you my word.”

              “The boy they found….the one all cut up who nearly died. It was Severus.” She whispered. She pulled a hand from James and brought for a book. A potions book. She opened it to a spell incantation.

              “I remember him working on spells, inventing them…but this.”

              James read the description, the outcome. It was identical to the attack. Lily choked on a sob.

              “I know I need to turn this over, James. I know. I…he’ll be expelled. I know I should hate him but I-“

              James looked at Lily, then took the book. He hurried to the back of the classroom and opened one of the least attended cupboards and hid the book deeply within, behind stacks of musty, dusted covers. He shut the cupboard and looked to lily a little wildly, his heart pounding.

              “I gave you my word. If you decide to report it, I’ll support you, go with you…but…” James knew they were covering something terrible, but he understood. He wasn’t sure how, but he got what Lily was so torn about.

              As much as he hated Snape, he had been Lily’s friend since childhood.

              He couldn’t imagine what all of this was doing to her.

              “Thank you.” She whispered to him, and then fled the room.

 6)  Broken Angel – Boyce Avenue

 Remus pressed his fingers to the glass. The freezing cold pierced his fingertips as he did, the frost melting under his heat. He wanted to put his fist through the glass. Feel it rip his skin open like his memories were ripping out his heart.

The silence of the flat sprawled out behind him. The single worn table, the bed in the corner. The dust in the sills.

It didn’t matter how much time passed. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to forget, to move on, he couldn’t seem to.

Remus pressed his palm flat against the glass and let the shockwave of freezing cold rattle his wrist up into his elbow. He wondered if this was how it felt to be always surrounded by dementors. He wondered if Sirius, in Azkaban remembered anything about him.

Even ten years later, Remus wasn’t sure he believed what Dumbledore had told him in that single letter. He had been there as Sirius walked out the door that night.

‘I’m worried about James and Lily. I want to go check on them.’

“Why.” Remus whispered. “Why, Sirius? Why weren’t you honest with me…”

Remus didn’t know what he was meant to believe anymore. Nothing seemed right.

He pulled away from the window and turned to face his flat. Maybe he needed to demand answers. He’d tried before, but maybe…maybe he would go to the Potter house. In all the ten years he’d been wandering, he’d never been there.

Maybe it was time.

  7)

              The entrance to the tunnel was his only way out.

              Remus glanced up at it and sighed. He wondered just how many of these dead secret passageways there were. So far he and Sirius had stumbled across a good number and he was sorely tired of getting stuck in them.

              “You okay, Moony!” Sirius’ voice echoed down to him. “That sounded painful.”

              “Oh, I’m fine-bugger-“ Remus wriggled around to get himself to a standing position in the narrow space. He ran his fingers over the wall behind him. Odd. It didn’t feel like rock or dirt. “Sirius, there’s something down here. A door, I think.”

              “Is there room for me?” Sirius stuck his head into the hole, his face shadowed and the light from above like a halo around him.

              “No! Hang on-“ Remus managed to tug out his wand in the cramped space and he held it up barely three inches from his nose. “Lumos!”

              The light nearly blinded him as he filled the small space. Sure enough, there was a door. Though how on earth he was meant to open it was beyond him. It certainly couldn’t swing backward, even if he wasn’t in the way. There was no room at all. He also didn’t see a handle, or a keyhole of any kind.

              “There’s a great bloody door down here!” Remus called up to Sirius. He turned the light and saw now the footholds to get out. “I don’t think I can open it.”

              “What’s on the door!” Sirius called back down.

              Remus scowled. It was hard to look at something nearly four inches from his face. He looked it up and down. There were patterns carved into the metal. Old and carefully done. Remus traced a finger along them and then blinked. “It’s a phoenix.” He said, but not loud enough for Sirius to hear. He stuffed his wand and turned to the handholds.

              When he popped out, Sirius was looking at him excitedly. “It’s an etching of a phoenix on the door. Reckon we’ll need a phoenix feather to get in.” He looked at Sirius, the energy of him illuminated against the sunlight of Spring. March had the air fragrant and warm.

              “Well, we do know who has one of those.” Sirius smirked and Remus shook his head.

              “No. We aren’t doing that. I don’t know what is behind that door, but I’d wager it’s nothing we need on a map. Especially with how old the door looked.”

              “You’re no fun.” Sirius snorted, but dropped the hatch that had been buried for who knows how long before they’d unearthed it.

 8)

              As he fell, he waited for the world to shatter.

              His knees hit the floor, the wood crashing into skin, crashing into bone. Sound ceased in his ears. He knew somewhere above him, somewhere in the distance Gideon was talking to him. He felt the hands on his shoulders, someone trying to get his attention.

              His eyes were on the ring in his hands, pressed to his palm, searing into his skin.

              The ring that matched the one on his own fingers.

              “Fabian-“ Gideon’s voice wavered in and out. “Give this to you—died a hero—I’m sorry—”

              Fabian had never felt time stand still. He’d read it in metaphor, heard it spoken in moments so grand that you wanted them forever, but never had he experienced it until now.

              Fabian’s world was still. His heart couldn’t beat. His breath couldn’t come. His ears were ringing, his eyes were burning. The moment hung in suspension.

              He drug in a breath, and everything sped up. The scream that ripped out of his throat tore open the earth and swallowed him whole. He crumpled, bent double on the floor as he clutched the ring to his chest. Clutched the only thing that kept him from falling to pieces, bursting apart. Each sob that wracked him tore open his heart again and again. Gideon’s hands on his shoulders did nothing. Gideon’s arms around him were foreign.

              “No-“ He choked out. “No-no—no—” He shoved at Gideon, looking at him with a face so streaked with tears, framed by his crudely shorn hair, buttery curls now tangled from his fingers digging at them. He was the picture of desperate grief.

              “You’re lying.” He choked.

              “Fabian-“

              “You’re lying! Tell me you are lying! Tell me!” He screamed, punching at Gideon, kicking.

              “Fabian, I am so sorry-“  Gideon grappled with Fabian, clutching him. “I’m so sorry-“

              Gideon’s expression broke. Tears filled his eyes and Fabian felt the would lurch. He dissolved into tears against Gideon’s chest.

              I’m so sorry, Fabian.

 9)

              He sat her down, and held her close, before telling her the terrible news. He ran his fingers through her beautiful red hair, kissing her temple.

              “They didn’t have the yellow paint.” He said solemnly.

              Lily pulled back, eyeing James squarely. “Are you serious?”

              “Well no, if he were here though, he’d probably muddy the carpet-“

              “James!” Lily rolled her eyes and punched his arm. “We need to get this nursery painted! How are they still out of the Buttercream color?” Lily crossed her arms with a huff, though the effort was disrupted by the large ball of a belly under her over-sized t-shirt. His oversized t-shirt. He thought fondly, she does look rather magnificent, all red and glowing and irritated.

              “Remus had a suggestion though, so. I am kicking you out.” James grinned.

              “What?” Lily gawked at him.

              “Remus will be here in ten minutes to get you. He’s taking you shopping in town, and I am taking over.”

              James stood and pulled Lily to her feet.

              “James—James no. I will not let you just—this isn’t time for jokes-“ Lily tried to wriggle away.

              James stopped, taking her cheeks between her palms and mushing them together so her lips puckered and he kissed them. “Shush.”

              Remus arrived to a helpless shrug from Lily, and he chuckled. He winked at James conspiratorially as they headed out the door.

              Ten minutes after they were out the door, Padfoot came through it, paint gear in hands. “Alright Prongs! My Good man, we have a Godson to prepare for!” He declared, and tromped off for the nursery.

                Lily sighed. “James Potter. Is the bandana really needed?” Lily groped out, blind from the fabric over her eyes, as James led her to the room.

              “Oh yes. Are you ready, Evans?” He chuckled. Holding her shoulders gently and kissing the top of her head.

              “Yes yes—take this off me—”

              James did.

              Lily opened her eyes and just stared. The room was painted Lavender. There were pawprints in a trail around the wall just above the baseboard. The bassinette was set up in the corner, and over the top painted in white against the lavender was a doe, a stag and a fawn. Beautiful black silhouette trees framed them and the doors to the closet. The changing table had a wolf and a dog done in white surrounded by the same trees.

              “Oh James.” She breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

              “Sorry it’s not yellow.” He grinned.

              Lily turned and tugged him into a kiss.

              “I think I’ll live.”

[caradxc-dearbxrn-blog]

Miscommunication || Caradoc - Alecto

Usually when Caradoc Dearborn had a bad idea he had no clue that it was truly a bad idea until he was in the thick of it, fighting to undo everything he’d done. This bad idea? There was no denying that from the outset it had been a bad idea. Yet here he was, standing in front of a mirror trying to figure out how he could charm one of his suits from his early days of an auror - and believing that he’d needed to dress to impress for the job rather than to actually perform the job itself - so that he’d blend in with the purebloods he would be pretending to socialize with tonight. And why?

Cassandra Burke.

He was fixated by now. He needed to get to her. Things were only going to get worse before they got better, and he had to let her know that she still had him. She was what he wanted, and he was sure of that. He couldn’t remind her enough that no matter what she thought she was trapped in; she wasn’t. He would do whatever he had to to get her out. Including cashing in on a good number of the favours he’d acquired from people during his Auror days. He’d never planned on actually reaching out to those that had told him that if he ever needed anything he should just call, but he truly felt that he needed this.

The small twig was wrapped up into the bouttoniere he planned on pinning to his lapel, after charming his suit to at least look much more expensive than it actually had been. The mask he had on his dresser was charmed as well, once something worn during parties in the Hufflepuff common room as a joke, now charmed into a brilliant gold and bronze dragon mask that covered nearly his entire face. Purebloods were showy, particularly at events like this, and if he wanted to blend in he certainly needed to look like he had made some effort to stand out.

It didn’t take him long to make the few tweaks he needed to to the dark outfit, before he was grabbing the bouttoniere itself, clipping it to his lapel. He let his finger rest on the end of the small twig, grinning at his genius in even thinking of this. Was it legal? Probably not. But it would definitely prove to be helpful at the very least. Linked to an identical one in his pocket, and able to be transfigured into anything either of them needed it to be for it not to draw attention, it was the only thing he could think of that would give her the ability to contact him in an instant. If she ever broke hers, no matter what form it had taken on, his would burn to get his attention and then turn into a portkey, taking him to her. If she ever found herself in over her head, it was the only thing he could think of that would let him help get her out. The risk was well worth it. He needed her to have this. If he didn’t have anything else on the planet, he needed to have this.

The dogs had been fed, and he’d eaten half a tin of spaghetti before pulling on the ornate mask. His flask was secured in an inside pocket, unsure what kind of liquor they’d have for the guests at the ball, and sure that he needed a good buzz before he made it to the Diagon Alley party. He’d never exactly been to one of these annual balls before, though he was sure they weren’t nearly as fun as the parties he preferred to attend. He could count on her being there though, and that was good enough reason for him to suffer through it for an hour. To be able to share a dance with her and let her know he’d done everything in his power to help her. He’d nodded at himself in the mirror before apparating as close as he could to Selwyn Manor.

Getting in had been easy, and blending in even easier. It was picking Cassandra out of the crowd that was proving to be hard, and he hated that he felt that way. She ought to have had some kind of spotlight on her, at least that was how it had always seemed for him. Tonight in all of the gowns and masks, it wasn’t easy. These events seemingly drew a pretty good crowd, though he had a good feeling that there were a fair few in his midst that were on the same side as he was.

And then he’d seen her, and he was sure that it was her. He’d approached her from behind, tapping her shoulder gently before bowing slightly, “You look beautiful tonight,” And she did, there was no denying it. Even with her face half hidden she was gorgeous. How could he not indulge himself in spending some time with her here, when nobody around them would ever be the wiser? “Might I have a dance?”

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