#Horizon Ministries

[headlinehorizon]

Fire Breaks Out at Iranian Car Battery Factory for Second Time in a Week

Read the latest news about a fire that occurred for the second time in less than a week at an Iranian car battery factory owned by the Defense Ministry. Find out more about the incident and its possible causes.

[brokebonewritings]

Fixing you

Mountain x Fem!Reader

Tags/Warning: 18+, Language, Smut, Fluff

Summary: After a long afternoon of helping Mountain in the garden, he returns the favor by helping you shower until he smells another scent on you.

Word Count: 2.1K

Navigation || Masterlist

A/N: Dedicated to Rachel :)

You walk slowly back through the garden from the lake where you had just been with Swiss. He had begged you relentlessly to show him how to skip rocks and who were you to deny him. For being such a good teacher, he rewarded you by fucking you against the boulder along the lake’s shore.

As you emerge from the quiet, lush foliage in the golden dusk embrace, your heartbeat still echoes in your ears like the rhythm of a plucked harp string. The afterglow of his potent touch leaves you reeling, yet the warm, satisfied sensation fills you with an exhilarating grace.

In the distance you see a large figure walking alongside an elderly Primo. As the figure turns to look at you, you blush madly. Mountain, the earth ghoul, waves to you with one hand as the other holds a large bouquet of flowers. You wave back haphazardly just as Primo turns to see you. He stretches his hand out to you, beckoning you. Changing course, you walk over and happily take his arm.

“Cara, what were you doing out there by yourself.” The old man asks.

“Oh Primo, I was teaching Swiss how to skip rocks.” You respond, and notice Mountain stiffen at the mention of the other ghoul.

"Ah," Primo mutters, glancing at the imposing figure beside him. "Surely you know that it is not safe for you to be alone with that one, no matter how skilled you are with rocks."

Mountain grumbled something under his breath, but remained mostly silent as Primo put his arm around you and guided you back to the greenhouse.

“I have been thinking, Fiore, why don’t you help Mountain out here for the rest of the day?” Primo says as he grabs his bag from the small counter.

“But what about the duties that the Cardinal gave me?” You worry.

“Don’t worry about my silly little fratello. I will tell him our Earth ghoul requested some extra help.” He turns to the tall ghoul. “Take care of her, Mountain.” He requests before leaving the building.

You both stand in silence for a moment before he sets down the bouquet of flowers and walks to you, pressing himself against your chest.

“Did he hurt you?” He asks before brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

You shake your head. “No, not that much anyways.”

You hear him growl lowly before turning away. He stalked away from you, leaving a void in your chest where his warmth had previously been. As he walks back to the garden, you follow closely behind him. He stops at an empty plot and he looks up to you.

“We need to plant some vegetables here for the winter.” He announces, voice deep. “I’ll have you watch for now.” 

You are left to watch him work, your curiosity piqued. He moves quickly, glancing back at you occasionally, and soon the soil around the plants is freshly turned and he begins planting seeds with practiced skill.

As you observe him, you realize that there is much more to this ghoul than meets the eye. Though he appears imposing and reserved, there is a gentleness in his movements that you find appealing.

For the remainder of the day, you work alongside Mountain, tending the garden and helping each other as needed. You find a strange comfort in his presence that you have never experienced with anyone else in the ministry.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden light over the greenhouse, you and Mountain stood side by side surveying the fruits of your labor. The once empty plot was now filled with neatly planted rows of winter vegetables, a testament to your combined efforts.

You reached out to brush a speck of dirt off his arm, he turned to look at you with eyes that seemed to hold a universe of emotions. Without a word, he took your hand in his, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet beauty of nature and the gentle presence of Mountain, you felt a connection deeper than anything you had ever known. It was as if fate had brought you together

“You’re filthy” He says in a whisper.

“Says the ghoul covered in soil”

“Fair point” He ponders. “Would you shower with me?”

You blush at his unexpected question but nod eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the thought of being so close to him again. As you both make your way inside the air between you crackles with tension, each step bringing you closer to a moment of intimacy that feels both thrilling and uncertain.

Once inside, you both make your way to the Ghoul den and into Mountain’s room. It was tidy, not like Swiss or Aether’s room. You sit on his arm chair as he goes to prepare the shower. After a few minutes, he calls for you. 

The bathroom is warm and inviting, steam already rising from the running water as Mountain adjusts the temperature. You watch as he undresses, revealing the powerful muscles that lie beneath his gray earth-stained skin.

As you undress and step into the shower beside him, the hot water cascades over your bodies, mingling with the dirt and grime that clings to your skin. Mountain reaches for a bar of soap, his touch surprisingly gentle as he begins to lather it against your back.

The sensation of his hands moving over your skin sends a thrill through you, awakening desires you never knew existed. His proximity is intoxicating, each brush of his body against yours igniting a flame you’ve never felt before. 

You close your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of his touch and the warmth of the water surrounding you. Mountain's hands move with a purposeful tenderness, washing away not just the physical dirt but also the emotional weight that had settled within you.

As the soap bubbles slip down your skin, you turn to face him, meeting his intense gaze. There is a raw vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding that tugs at something deep inside you.

Without a word, you reach out and run your fingers over the ridges of his spine, feeling the tension melt away under your touch. The air between you crackles with unspoken longing, a magnetic pull drawing you closer together.

Slowly, he pulls you towards him, your hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the falling water. Your lips meet in a kiss that feels like homecoming, your bodies melding together as if they had been made for this moment.

You explore each other's bodies with reverence and desire. The soap slips away, replaced by the slick intimacy of your bodies pressed together, each touch igniting a fire within you that seems to burn brighter with every passing moment.

As the kiss deepens, he trails kisses down your neck before taking a deep inhale and growling against your skin. The grip he has on your lower back tightens as you try to pull away.

“Mounty… What’s wrong?” You ask worriedly.

“You still smell like him.” He growls louder. “Why him?” 

You whimper at the harshness of his tone. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking” 

“Well I’m gonna fix that.” He bites against your throat. “I’m gonna fix you.”

Your heart races as you clasp your hands around Mountain's firm shoulders, trying to both push away and pull him closer at the same time.

“Please! Mountain!” You gasp, “I promise I won’t go alone with Swiss anymore!”

He grunts, not seeming appeased by your words. His claws move lower to grip your butt and hoist you up against the shower wall.

“I’ll make sure you never smell like him or Aether ever again.” Mountain growls, his eyes blazing with a mix of possessiveness, lust, and anger. The sheer force of his gaze leaves you breathless and trembling, but also incapable of resisting him.

You wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer as he forces his erection right at your entrance. He thrusts into you, hard and fast, his muscles flexing as he takes you roughly against the slick tiled wall. The hot water splatters against your skin, providing a sensual counterpoint to the raw, animalistic nature of the act.

You moan loudly, your head falling back as you let yourself be taken by him. Each thrust is a surge of pleasure, an electric jolt that courses through your veins. You can't help but arch your back, meeting his every move.

Mountain pounds into you, his breath ragged and hoarse. His eyes never leave yours as he continues to thrust. Your body writhes and convulses as he takes you closer and closer to your release.

The room echoes with the sounds of your bodies meeting, the water mingling with the rhythm of your cries and gasps. His teeth graze your skin as he bites down, leaving a mark that will serve as a reminder of this night. The pain is mixed with pleasure, an exquisite blend that sends your senses into overdrive. 

Your hands dig into his back, nails scratching at the surface as the need to be closer, to be one with him, takes hold. The momentum of your lovemaking shifts, Mountain lifting you higher as he continues to thrust into you. One hand holding you tight around your waist while the other arm braces against the shower wall.

You're lost in the intensity when suddenly Mountain lets out a low growl, his eyes widening before they roll back. His body tenses, and you know in that moment that he's claiming you, marking you as his own.

Your body responds instinctively, your own breath growing ragged as the sensation of him inside you seems to grow even more intense. You feel your orgasm building, a fierce heat surging through your body, and you wrap your legs tighter around him, wanting to pull him even closer.

His sweat mingles with the water, creating a scent that's uniquely his, a heady mix of earth and sweat and something indefinable that speaks to your deepest desires.

As you reach the pinnacle of your pleasure, the room seems to shimmer around you. All sound fades away, leaving only the thundering rhythm of your hearts and the echoes of your bodies crashing against one another.

A look of ecstasy overtakes Mountain's features, his eyes locked on yours, his expression raw and unguarded. He thrusts harder and faster until finally a jolt of white-hot pleasure courses through you. 

You cry out, your body arching off Mountain's, your nails digging into his skin as he continues to thrust into you.

The pressure builds within him too, and just as your orgasm crests, Mountain releases a primal growl, his body convulsing against yours. His release envelopes your every sense.

A tremble runs through your body as you feel him fill you. Your body shivers as he pulls out, the water washing away his essence, leaving only the lingering memory of the connection you've just shared.

As your breath returns to normal, your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close. You kiss him deeply, your bodies still shaking with the aftershocks of your passion.

Slowly, you break the kiss, gazing into his eyes. His lips still parted ever so slightly, as he brushes a hand against your cheek.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly.

You smile up at him, “You could never hurt me.”

He smiles back at you. It's clear he's claimed you, and you feel safe and cherished in his arms.

He leads you out of the shower, wrapping you in a large towel as you step onto the cool stone floor.

As you both dry off and dress, the tension between you dissipates, replaced with a newfound sense of intimacy and understanding. Mountain hugs you close, his arms tight around your waist, and you feel a stab of something like relief and gratitude.

He leads you into his bedroom, still wrapped in his embrace, and the two of you lying down on the bed together. He pulls you close, nuzzling his face into your neck, and you can feel his heartbeat against your skin.

“I’m gonna scent you the rest of the night.” He mumbles against your skin.

“I’m gonna reek of you tomorrow though.”

Mountain chuckles softly, holding you closer. "I'll make sure that's not a problem. If anyone comes close, they'll know you're mine."

You nod against his chest, feeling comforted and content. "I like the sound of that."

A gentle kiss presses against your cheek, and he pulls back to look into your eyes. "What do you say we get some rest? We'll have plenty of time to talk when the sun rises."

You smile at him, the weight of the world seemingly lifted off your shoulders. "Sounds like a plan."

As you snuggle up to him, the warm glow of the fireplace casting a fiery hue on the room, you drift off to sleep, scented and claimed by the one who means the most to you.

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[lulublack90]

Prompt 31 - Insecure

@jegulus-microfic May 31, Word count 1101

Previous part First part

This is it, the final part. I hope you enjoy it. I'm just going to go cry that it's over. Love you all xxx

Sirius dropped down next to James and looked thoughtfully at his brother. 

“What is he? A, maine coon?” He tilted his head, trying to see all of Regulus. Remus leant over and traced the flickering star shape on Regulus’s chest and looked closer at the glowing eyes. 

“I swear I’ve read about a cat like this somewhere,” He screwed up his face as he tried to recall the information. 

Peter crashed through the trees and came to a stop beside them, his hands on his knees as he bent over and inhaled huge gulps of air. He looked over at Regulus in his cat form. 

“Oh, he’s cute,” He wheezed. Regulus hissed at him. “Sorry, regally handsome,” He corrected. Regulus let out a little huff. 

“I think he’s a Cat-Sìth.” Remus started, explaining, "They were these huge cats that lived in the highlands. They used to go and mess about with the muggle farmers, so the wizards in the area told the locals to leave out milk for them on Samhain so they'd bless them, or they’d dry up all their cow’s milk. There was also something about the muggles believing that the cats were really witches that could transform into a cat. And there was something about them stealing souls. But everything I read said that they were all black cats apart from a white patch of fur on their chests and eyes that glowed in the night.” They all looked at Regulus with scrutinising faces and nodded along in agreement. 

Regulus transformed back into his human body. 

“Ha! I’m a legendary myth,” He pointed at Sirius, gloating. 

“You might transform into a legendary myth, Reggie. But at the end of the day, you’re still just an itty bitty ickle pussycat.” Sirius took off running and transformed into Padfoot mid-step as the giant black cat of legend chased him into the forest. James couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he heard the unmistakable yelp of a dog being attacked. 

“We should probably go and break them up,” He said to Remus and Peter. They followed the sounds of barking and hissing through the trees.

“We’re going to have to add him to the marauders map and figure out a nickname for him now, aren’t we?” Remus chuckled as Sirius yelped again. 

“Yeah, I think we have to,” James grinned happily at the thought.

***

He was nervous. More nervous than he’d been on the night he’d first turned. He’d followed James, Sirius and Peter out into the grounds. It was still light, but the sun was rapidly sinking towards the horizon. 

Regulus watched James fold away the marauder’s map, now proudly emblazoned with the names, Moony, Wormtail, Eclipse, Padfoot and Prongs. They had decided on Eclipse after they’d pulled Regulus off of Sirius, because James said, with the white flash, he looked like a solar eclipse, with a tiny bit of light in the total darkness.  

The whomping willow reached towards them as they neared. Violently slamming its branches down at them. He watched as Peter transformed into the tiny rat. He scurried under the flailing limbs and pressed a little knot on one of the tree's roots. The willow froze, not even its leaves moved. The four of them slid into the opening at the tree’s base and dropped into the tunnel below. 

Regulus had to stoop to walk forward. He had no idea how Remus walked down here, he must have to nearly crawl. 

The tunnel finally opened up to reveal a door. Sirius pushed it open, and they stepped into the dusty, mouldy insides of the shrieking shack. 

“They send Lupin here?” Regulus asked incredulously. No wonder he’d caused himself so much damage. 

“Better than being locked in a cell made from silver under the ministry,” Sirius said blandly. Regulus turned to his brother, shocked. 

“Is that really what they do?” 

“Yes. Registered werewolves have to report there before the full moon.” Sirius replied. 

“But silver is poison to werewolves,” Regulus argued. Sirius nodded sadly at him. 

“That’s the point, Reggie,” Regulus’s eyes flickered to a spot on the wall behind Sirius’s right shoulder. There was a long deep gouge carved into the wall. His eyes widened as he realised what had caused it. 

“Just how big does Remus get?” He asked, feeling insecure for only a second as he pointed at the claw mark on the wall. Sirius grinned. 

“Let’s just say he makes me look like a puppy.” Regulus stared at him open-mouthed. 

They had to hide quickly when they heard Madam Pomfrey and Remus coming down the passageway. They ran up the stairs and hid in one of the bedrooms until Madam Pomfrey left. 

Sirius rushed back downstairs ahead of them and checked Remus was okay by running his hands all over him. 

“Sirius, I’m fine, stop fussing me,” Remus protested, pushing Sirius away. James pulled Regulus in close. 

"It won’t be long now, love. You ready?” Regulus looked up into James’s eyes and felt completely safe.

“Yeah,” He smiled, being completely truthful. He looked around the room at the four people in the world who truly cared for him and chuckled under his breath.

“What’s so funny?” James asked, his voice full of kindness. Regulus stood on tiptoe and kissed James before he answered. 

“I’m so glad I was out picking fluxweed while a crazed werewolf was running amok.”

“Hey!” Remus feigned outrage through gritted teeth. 

“It's time,” Sirius said, giving Remus one last kiss before he changed into Padfoot. 

Regulus watched through his new eyes as Remus dropped to the floor screaming and writhing. Sirius whined and danced about on his feet and Remus broke apart and reformed as a truly enormous wolf. Eclipse craned his neck to see all of him.

The wolf and the dog sniffed each other excitedly and Padfoot licked the Moony all over his face, wagging his tail excitedly. It took a while, but the wolf eventually spotted the cat. He let out a low growl, but Padfoot rushed to Eclipse’s side and whined at Moony, pleading. Wormtail scuttled forward and sat at Eclipse’s feet. Prongs came to stand behind them all, his antlered head slightly lowered in case he needed to protect them. 

Moony leaned closer, but Eclipse held firm. Moony shoved his nose into the white fur on Eclipse’s chest. Eclipse put his paws on Moony’s muzzle and stood up on his hind legs. The werewolf stared into the Cat-Sìths eyes, recognising him as another legendary creature. Eclipse purred. An approximation of a smirk crept across his feline face, knowing everything would be alright.

[zvaigzdelasas]

[WAFA is the official outlet of the Palestinian Authority]

The Palestinian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and Expatriates today said that ending the Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories is the only guarantee for peace, security and stability in the region. “We have repeatedly warned of the consequences of a deadlock in the political horizon and not granting the Palestinian people their legitimate right to self-determination and their state. We have also warned of the consequences of the daily provocations and attacks, the continued terrorism of settlers and occupation forces, and the raids on Al-Aqsa Mosque and the Christian and Islamic holy sites,” said the Foreign Ministry in a statement. “What guarantees security, stability and peace in our region is ending the Israeli occupation of the land of the State of Palestine, with East Jerusalem as its capital, along the 1967 lines, and recognizing the people’s right to independence and sovereignty.” The Foreign Ministry added: “Israel's disavowal of the signed agreements and non-compliance with international legitimacy resolutions led to the destruction of the peace process and the absence of a solution to the Palestinian issue after 75 years of suffering and displacement. The continuation of the policy of double standards, the silence of the international community regarding the criminal and racist practices of the Israeli occupation forces against the Palestinian people, and the continuation of the injustice and oppression that the Palestinian people endure is the reason behind the explosive situation and the absence of peace and security in the region. Peace requires justice, freedom and independence for our Palestinian people, the return of refugees, and the full implementation of international legitimacy resolutions.”

7 Oct 23

[sloanesallow]

give you my wild

Nearly a decade into their marriage, Sebastian and Sloane lead a peaceful, idyllic life in a coastal cottage with their toddler-aged son, Antony. As their anniversary approaches and they have the opportunity to spend some much-needed alone time together, Sebastian wonders if it is time for their family to grow. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), body worship, overstimulation, dirty talk, and Sebastian's fanon breeding kink. Also domestic bliss, sharing a bath, tooth-rotting fluff and Dad!Seb. [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

The Sallow homestead is a quaint, modest cottage on the English coast, surrounded by rolling hills and sprawling fields as far as the eye can see. It is paradise for Sebastian and his wife, their own little slice of heaven away from the hustle and bustle of the wizarding and muggle worlds.  

Wife—Sebastian’s lips turn up in a lopsided grin at the word as he thinks about how lucky he is to have Siobhan—Sloane—as his bride. Ten years now he’s known her, and for ten years they have been inseparable, blossoming from friends to lovers to soulmates to parents. Every day is a blessing, the peace hard-earned and well-deserved after the turmoil of their younger years.

The decision to settle down came only after the birth of their son, Antony. His arrival was not necessarily planned, but welcomed nonetheless, allowing the married couple to retire very early from their Ministry positions. Instead of traveling the world as a curse-breaking-healer duo, the two focus on research while raising their young tot. To Sebastian’s everlasting surprise, fatherhood comes naturally to him, and he thrives, wondering why he ever cared about notoriety when life’s greatest treasure is family—home.

Despite the isolation, their location is in close enough proximity to Nottingham, where Sloane’s father resides. A few hours by muggle means, Mr. Sloane—Grandpa Sloane—is always ready to lend a helping hand. He is the type of parental figure Sebastian always dreamed of after losing his parents, forever grateful for the older man’s patience and guidance. That, and Mr. Sloane’s willingness to care for his grandson.

Even though Antony is a quiet and well-behaved child, he gets into his fair share of messes if left alone for even a second. At nearly three, he is an avid explorer, constantly covered in dirt from the garden, running in and out of the house to show off whatever bug or amphibian he’d dug up. His interests would not be an issue if Antony wasn’t also obsessed with sticking anything and everything in his tiny mouth, as if to learn more by taste.

Maintaining intimacy while nurturing such a curious child is not an easy task, especially when Sebastian and Sloane are still so enamored with one another, even after all these years. The so-called honeymoon period has endured, a bliss neither seem interested in losing. More times than not they are interrupted by the pitter-patter of feet in the hallway, and even when they do manage to copulate, it is usually with hushed whispers and rushed movements to avoid waking their son.

There’s been even more of a dry spell as of late, between Sebastian’s research and Sloane’s travels to Hogwarts and Beauxbatons to lecture students on advancements in Herbology. Antony has been rather clingy too, insisting on sleeping between his mummy and duddy every evening.

Suffice it to say, Sebastian is eager to spend some time alone with his beloved wife. Very eager. With their wedding anniversary on the horizon, it is the perfect opportunity for Antony to stay with Grandpa Sloane in Nottingham for the weekend. His son barely mumbles a goodbye, too distracted by the barn cats and the promise of a sweet treat to notice his father apparating away.

The sun is setting by the time Sebastian returns to the seaside cottage, the chilly salt air tousling his dark hair as he makes his way up the stone pathway. Smoke billows from the chimney and he can smell the Shepard’s pie Sloane is cooking as he approaches the front door.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!”

Sloane doesn’t seem to register his return, continuing her idle humming in the kitchen. Sebastian quickly shucks his boots, hanging his cap and coat on the nearby rack before moving closer to where she’s standing in front of the largest counter, diligently kneading a large mass of dough. He watches her as he rolls up his sleeves, a content smile on his face as he wonders for the millionth time what luck or divine intervention led her to him, made her stay. There’s a nervous flutter in his gut when she peeks over her shoulder and greets him with a bright smile.

“Welcome home, dear.”

Is it possible to fall more in love every day? They’ve grown up together, matured from the fire of youthful love to the deep, abiding connection of a shared life. Well, mostly matured. That passion is still present, a burning flame ignited each time their eyes meet. Sebastian struggles to tamper it down as he closes the distance, resting his hands on her hips, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek.

“How was the trip?” she asks. He can feel the muscles in her back and shoulders flexing as she continues working the dough. “Is Ant alright?”

“He’s fine,” Sebastian murmurs, already distracted by his racing thoughts and the anticipation of what the evening might bring. “I think Ant loves his Daideo more than us.”

“I think Ant loves ice cream,” Sloane suggests, plopping the rolled dough into a large baking dish and setting it aside. She dusts the countertop with more flour, white specks sticking to her fingers and apron. “That’s at the top of every toddler’s hierarchy.”

Sebastian hums in response, unable to resist the urge to kiss her exposed neck. He smirks when she sucks in a sharp breath, the subtle tilt of her head inviting him to continue. Still, she squirms when he wraps his arms snug around her waist, pressing himself close and trapping her between his body and the countertop.

“Seb!” she playfully scolds as he nips the soft skin, kissing a trail up to the shell of her ear. “You can’t wait a few more hours?” she asks. “Aren’t you hungry?”

He slides one of his hands up to fondle a clothed breast. “Starved.” 

“Sebastian!”

“Can you blame me?” he softly chuckles, not-so-subtly rolling his hips so she can feel how impatient he really is. “How long has it been since we’ve had the house to ourselves, hmm?”

Sloane sighs, melting under his touch. Too easy. “At least let me wash up, first. I smell like…mashed potatoes, hardly an aphrodisiac.”

“You don’t know that,” he jokes, barely pausing in his lavishing of her neck. He undoes the first few buttons on the back of her blouse so he can kiss her shoulder, too. “Sweetheart, you could be covered in troll guts, and I’d still devour you.”

Sloane’s laugh melts into a delighted moan as Sebastian continues, bunching the fabric of her skirt up until he can snake an eager hand beneath. He strokes her thigh before squeezing the flesh of her bottom, grinning at the silky feel of her underwear.

“These are new,” he comments, appreciatively.

“From my last trip to Paris,” she explains with bated breath.

“Bénis soient les français.”

He slides his fingers between her clenched thighs and groans at the warm slick he finds, the thin fabric saturated with her arousal. Slipping past the barrier, he rubs two fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit with a featherlight touch, one that makes her buck against his palm. Sloane’s head lulls even more to the side as she whimpers and rocks her hips, seeking friction.

“That,” he whispers against her ear as he slowly sinks his fingers inside her heat. She clenches around him and moans as he drags his digits back before plunging back in.  “That is my favorite sound in the world, love. The sound of you falling apart under my touch.”

“I’ve been dreaming about tonight, Sloane, of having you all to myself,” Sebastian is reminded of just how long it’s been since they had the freedom to be loud, how long it’s been since she’s screamed his name in ecstasy. “Do you still want to wait?” he teases, darkly chuckling when she quickly shakes her head.  

He crooks his fingers, expertly finding the sweet spot that makes her gasp and knees tremble. Sloane grips the edge of the counter as if it is the only thing anchoring her to the earth, and Sebastian presses his weight against her to keep her upright.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coaxes, lips trailing down the slope of her shoulder. “Be a good girl and come on my fingers. I want you drenched before I take you properly.”

Sloane’s core is a vice as she unravels, the back of her head resting against his shoulder as her mouth falls open in a silent scream. A surge of possessive pride courses through him—he is the only man who can gift her this pleasure, he is the only man with the honor of seeing such vulnerability. She is still shaking when he retracts his fingers, bringing them to his lips to taste her sweet nectar.

She slumps forward a little, breathless. “Jesus—”

Sebastian knows he’s done a good job when she gets sacrilegious. He doesn’t offer much of a respite before spinning her around, swallowing her surprised shriek of laughter with a hungry kiss that is all teeth and tongue. He effortlessly lifts her by the waist, perching her on the edge of the flour-dusted countertop. Sloane senses the urgency, humming against his lips as her hands drift from his messy hair down to the clasps of his trousers. He leans away for a gulp of air and to watch as she tugs at the fabric, bunching up his shirt and pushing his pants down just enough to expose his cock.

“Fuck,” he hisses as soon as her delicate fingers wrap around him, the softness of her palm threatening to make him come right then. He blinks hard—he won’t last, but they have all evening, all weekend, to be slow. Right now, he’s desperate, needy for the feel of her cunt around his throbbing shaft. Her name comes out as a deep grumble, “Sloane.”

When he snaps his eyes open, her stormy gaze is already locked with his, pupils blown and expression just as wild as his. Sebastian doesn’t mean to be so rough when he yanks her hips to the edge of the counter, but her breathy laughter and sound of approval as she falls back is enough encouragement to spur him on. He bunches her dress up again, scooping her legs up so her ankles rest on the width of his shoulders.

With one hand he grips himself, pumping his length with a few strokes as he presses against the crux of her thighs. He pulls the soiled band of her panties to the side and drags the swollen tip of his cock against her entrance. If it were any other time, Sebastian might tease her more, edge both of their pleasure until it is too much to bear. But he is already hanging by a thread, the friction of silk and the tight, velvet heat of her encompassing him, welcoming him home.

He grips her thighs tight, pulling her closer as he slides halfway before snapping his hips forward to fill her completely. Sloane’s sharp gasp morphs into a deep moan and he repeats the motion over and over again. The recoil of his frenzied pace rattles through her body and she grips the edge of the counter, knuckles white as the flour that dusts the air and their bodies.  

The kitchen is filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and slapping flesh, names murmured between pleading whimpers and desperate moans. Sebastian is unyielding, transfixed by the sight of his wife spread out beneath him, so beautifully undone as the pleasure he gives pushes her ever closer towards another release. As glorious as the image is, he can’t wait to shed their clothes and have his way with her more thoroughly, to worship every inch of her skin with his tongue and hands until she’s a writhing mess, begging for more.

He can feel the tight coil of his own release winding in his gut, his movements erratic as he pushes them both over the edge. With one hand braced on the countertop, he leans forward, almost folding her petite body in half as he loses the tempo and ruts against her like the uncaged animal he is. Sloane grips his forearm, nails biting into his flesh as her inner walls flutter and her body seizes. She cries out in blissful agony, and Sebastian echoes the mind-blowing sentiment, collapsing against her after spilling himself deep.

When there’s enough energy for their eyes to meet, they share a knowing grin—the night has only just begun.

After taking some time to satisfy their more practical hunger, the two eventually make their way to the bath, leaving the kitchen a mess to be cleaned up in the morning…or perhaps the morning after that. If Sebastian has it his way, they aren’t going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon.

For now, however, the two lay comfortably in the large, claw-footed bathtub of their ensuite, the heated water relaxing their aching muscles and washing the day away. Sebastian rests his head back against the porcelain rim, eyes closed as the steam soothes his body and soul. Sloane is settled against him, her back flush with his chest, their arms resting across her waist beneath the bubbly surface.

Silence used to be unnerving until he met her, learning that two people could simply exist. Sloane is the only person who understands him without the need for words, interpreting his moods and emotions with a simple glance or touch. To think only ten years have passed when it already feels like a lifetime—he hopes the love between them lasts for an eternity.

She lets out a contented sigh, her pinned up hair tickling his chin as she adjusts. He peeks open an eye, letting out his own cozy hum. His words are heavy and mumbled against her temple, “dun wunna get out.”  

“Me either,” she whispers with a breathy chuckle. “Are we losing our youthful energy?”

“I certainly hope not,” Sebastian huffs, tightening his hold around her. He and Sloane have always had a very active sex life—fervent, wild passion, unable to keep their hands off one another. “The day I can’t pleasure you with my body is the day you take me to St. Mungos to be put out of my misery.”

“So, in ten years?”

Sebastian pinches her thigh in response to her tease, causing her to yelp and squirm with laughter. “At least we’ll have more privacy by then, to experience embarrassing sex injuries without traumatizing our son.”

“Ant will be off to Hogwarts, and we’ll have an empty house.”

He smiles at the shared assumption Antony will inherit magic. It’s not always a forgone conclusion with wizarding parents, but he doubts their inquisitive son is a squib. Another thought crosses his mind, and he shifts to sit up a little, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“Would we really be on our own?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Sloane is momentarily puzzled. “Oh, well…I suppose father will still visit, though as he gets older it’ll be best if we go to him—”

Sebastian traces his fingers across her abdomen until his palm is flush against her skin. “I’m not talking about Daideo.”

Judging by her soft inhale, she realizes her husband’s meaning. The thought of growing their little family has been tickling at the edges of his mind, the idea of Sloane growing round with another child and glowing with maternal beauty—it is a vision that makes his heart swell and his loins ache with excitement. 

“You know…” he drawls out his words, carefully pressing his lips against her damp skin. “I always thought we’d have more. A whole brood to envy the Weasley’s. Mornings filled with the patter of tiny footsteps and laughter…a house full of so much love.”

She doesn’t respond at first, her body somewhat tense beneath his touch. He glances up at her profile to see a hesitation in her expression he didn’t expect. As long as he knew Sloane, he thought she wanted the same—a large family to call their own. Had something changed?

“You don’t—”

“I do,” she quickly affirms, turning sideways in his embrace to look at him. “Perhaps I’ve been selfish in wanting to keep things the way they are. We’ve been so blessed with Ant…a part of me is…a little scared of changing that.”

Sebastian’s gaze softens and he dips his face closer to kiss her mouth. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he whispers, smiling against her lips. “I’m scared too. What if…our baby is a dark wizard, or worse, a Gryffindor?”

“Be serious!” she chides through her snickering, playfully smacking his chest.

“I am!” Sebastian is equally amused, snatching her hand to lace their fingers together. She studies him, as if trying to determine how sincere he is about expanding their family. He brings her hand up to kiss her knuckles, the cold metal of her wedding band against his lips. “I want another child, Siobhan.”

The silver flecks in her storm-colored eyes shimmer as Sloane realizes immediately this isn’t some flippant suggestion, but a genuine choice, a heartfelt desire for their future. He studies her face, watching as she thickly swallows and slowly exhales, processing his words. The corner of her lip twitches as her cheeks flush with a brighter shade of pink, and not from the steam.

Sebastian takes that as a good sign.

“Even if I were to agree,” she eventually replies, not quite conceding to the idea, even as she bites back a smile. “It wouldn’t happen as soon as you say. I’d have to stop taking my contraceptives, not to mention the herbal tea you think smells like feet.”

“Because it does smell like feet,” he mutters, leaning forward to pick up the slow trail of kisses along her neck and collarbone. “Doesn’t mean we can’t…practice in the meantime.”

His grin widens into something wicked as he thinks to himself; “aren’t those the same precautionary potions you were taking when you fell pregnant with Antony?”

“That’s…beside the point.”

“Is it?” he hums. “That just means…well, I managed to beat the odds before, so who says I can’t do it again?”

Before Sloane can respond, Sebastian is lifting her from the tub as he stands, the soapy water splashing over the edge and onto the oakwood floor. She clings to him, a surprised shriek quickly turning into laughter as he carries her from the bathroom to their marital bed. He places her carefully across the fluffy duvet, her blonde hair spreading out across the pillows like a golden halo.

He covers her body with his own, hips slotted between her legs as he kisses her, their breaths hitching as his arousal presses against her belly. The levity fades as Sebastian’s hands smooth over her body, slow caresses pulling little sighs from her lips. It’s a struggle to hold back from ravishing her like he did before, his movements measured as he places kisses across her chest, balancing his weight on one arm so he can cup a breast in his hand.

Sloane arches into the sensation, her craned back as his lips wrap around a nipple, sucking it into a pebbled peak. He repeats the action with her other breast, spurred on by her labored breath and tiny moans. Her skin is still rosy from the heat of the bath, flecked with droplets of water that he laps up on his slow descent to the apex of her thighs. Sebastian spreads her a little wider, fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he settles before her bared sex.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, hot breath fanning across her sensitive skin. He glances up to lock onto her gaze. “The mother of our child—our children.”

Sloane’s only response is a strangled moan as he drags his tongue along the seam of her folds, licking up from her entrance to her clit. He wraps his lips around the bud, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue. Her hips twitch up against Sebastian as he expertly coaxes out her pleasure, quickly bringing her to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches again as he moves one hand to assist, spreading her arousal with his tongue before plunging two fingers past her slick petals. Her core clenches and flutters around his invading fingers, a sharp whimper escaping her throat with each thrust and curl within her core.

“Right—right there,” she rasps, her words dissolving into another shaky moan as he strokes deep, fingertips rubbing against the spongy spot within her that sparks a tidal wave. Sloane trembles, hands snapping to clasp at Sebastian’s hair as her body tenses. “Ahh—Seb—Sebastian!”

He lets out an appreciative groan against her, lapping up her sweet release like a man starved. He’s consumed, rocking his hips against the sheets to give his aching cock some temporary relief. The exquisite sight of Sloane writing under his touch is something he’ll never tire of. Sebastian keeps his fingers wedged inside of her, gently coaxing her through the sensations as her walls flutter with the aftershocks of her climax.

“Mmm…” Sloane sighs as he gradually pulls away, giving her sensitive folds one last pass with his tongue before kissing her quivering thighs. He eventually pushes himself so he’s kneeling before her, one hand caressing her leg while he strokes his length with the other.

“Sloane,” her name comes out as a husky sound, a plea and a question all in one. He lowers himself, teasing the tip of cock against her, ready to plunge into her depths. “I need you to say it. Tell me you want—” he darts his tongue out to lick his lips, prodding against her entrance. “Tell me you want another child with me.”

“Yes,” she pants, eyes wide as she stares up at him. Sloane reaches for him and begins to loop her legs up around his waist, guiding him to her heat. She manages a reply between gulping gasps. “Sebastian, yes. I want—I need you to—” a moan interrupts her train of thought, and she presses her hips up, needy as ever for him to take her. “Mmm…please, please—f—fuck—a baby into me…”

Not expecting such filthy words from his wife’s mouth, something wild takes a hold of Sebastian’s mind. He lets out a gruff sound, something between a deep growl and rumbling moan.

“Roll over,” he grunts, not bothering to wait before leaning back on his knees to help flip her onto her stomach. Sloane lets out a surprised squeak as he yanks her up by the waist so she’s on her hands and knees.

He traces over each knob of her spine with his thumbs, squeezing the flesh of her arse as he widens his stance behind her, spreading her legs further apart with his own. She pushes back against him, seeking his touch where she needs it most.

“Please,” she whimpers, looking over her shoulder at him with a half-lidded gaze.

Sebastian struggles to maintain his composure, steadying himself as unfiltered desire spills from her lips. Her plea, laced with the promise of creating new life, stokes the fire within him into a blazing inferno. With a less than gentle grip on her hips, he positions himself once more, pushing the crown of him just past her entrance before pulling her back to fill her in one powerful stroke.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, the hot stretch of her around his girth wiping his brain of any coherent thought. All that is left is the primal need to claim what is already his, mark Sloane from the inside and plant his seed deep within her fertile ground. It’s an overwhelming feeling, all encompassing, and one that surges through him with every thrust.

At first his movements are slow and deliberate, eyes locked on the lewd sight of his cock pulling out of her before driving back in. But it doesn’t take long before Sebastian picks up the pace, his pelvis slapping against her thighs as she rocks back to meet him. Every sound that escapes Sloane’s mouth is pure sin—sweet, high-pitched cries intermixed with the most ragged moans he’s ever heard.

He can feel the tension of her body as it responds to his unrelenting force, his rhythm faltering as her core clenches tightly around him. Sloane’s orgasm shakes through her entire body, her limbs spasming as she cries out, her back a beautiful arch. Sebastian control frays at the edges and he spirals, falling over the edge after her with one last surge of his hips. With a loud, guttural roar, he comes, the intensity of his release blurring his vison.

Sloane’s arms wobble until her front half collapses onto the mattress. Sebastian keeps her propped up as he gasps for breath, clutching her waist and hips as his cock continues to twitch inside her. The overstimulation causes her to shiver, and she whines into the pillow as he lets out a litany of curses and incoherent praise.

When he finally, painstakingly pulls away, his eyes snap down to the pearlescent evidence of his release trickling out of her and staining her thighs. By some miracle, Sebastian is able to stay upright, swaying a little as he rests on his heels and tries to blink the haze from his vision. Sloane slumps and he catches her boneless form, easing her down against the sheets where she practically melts with a sated sigh.

As soon as she is splayed out on her back again, Sebastian collapses across her petite form, barely keeping his weight from suffocating her as he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the aroma of her sweat-slick skin. Her arms lazily encircle his neck, and he grins as a raspy laugh falls from her lips.

“Oh my God,” she softly exclaims, her hands smoothing across his shoulders, one threading through the hair at the back of his neck. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” is all he can say with equally breathless amusement.

Perhaps of his own volition, or because he’s still burning with a longing to see her fat with his child, he lowers his groin down to drag against her mons. They both hiss at the contact, Sloane’s nails biting into his skin. Sebastian lifts himself up just enough so he can glance down between their bodies.

“Is it too much?” he whispers, wondering if he’d even be able to stop if she says it is.

But Sloane shakes her head and arches against him, silently pleading for more, as if she is also being driven by some unseen force. He shifts his balance, lifting one of her legs to slip around his waist before guiding himself back to her awaiting centre. It might be his imagination, but he can almost feel his cock pushing his come back into the depths of her channel. Sebastian bites down on his bottom lip until the taste of copper hits his tongue.

He stays close, their chests pressed against each other as he rolls his hips, keeping a languid pace for both their sakes. Sloane sighs, hitching her other leg up to ensure he strokes deep, and rests her head against his as he pants against her shoulder.

“I love you,” she declares, and it doesn’t matter that it’s the thousandth time she’s said it, the words encompass Sebastian in a warmth he never wants to leave.

He finds the strength to lift his head so their lips can crash together, matching the fervor below. He reaches to grab one of her arms, interlocking their fingers before pressing her hand into the mattress near her their heads. “I love you.”

Sebastian slips his other hand under her and lifts her hips, supporting her lower back as he grinds down, straining to keep himself balanced so he doesn’t crush her. It’s a gradual build this time, but the lingering sensitivity brings about their shared climax much sooner. Sloane’s breath hitches and her thighs tighten around his waist, her barely audible whimper preceding more whispered declarations of love. He spills again with a strained grunt and remains nestled against her as they gradually float down from a kind of bliss they write stories about.

Sebastian could drown in the storm of her eyes and the way she looks at him with all the affection in the world. He slides his hand across her waist to splay his fingers across her belly, the two sharing a quiet, knowing look. Realistically, he knew it was unlikely anything would come from their union—unions—this anniversary weekend. But that didn’t mean Sebastian couldn’t hope or pray that he and Sloane would be blessed with a child once again.

Little does he know.

Five years later

“Pancakes!”

“Oatmeal!”

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Sebastian flicks his gaze from one child to the next, feeling a little more than frazzled as his twin boys argued, Cailean and Finlay debating as fiercely as any four-year-olds can. Their shouting turns into menacing glares, prompting Sebastian to glance at his eldest who was sitting at the table watching his siblings with an annoyed expression.

“What do you want, Ant?”

“To be excused,” the eight-year-old mumbles in reply.

Sebastian frowns, still unsure of how to deal with Antony’s sullen mood-swings. He looks at his youngest, Ewan, who was sitting in the highchair with a cheeky, toothless grin. At least he hasn't started talking in complete sentences—yet.

“PANCAKES!”

“OATMEAL!”

Cailean and Finlay start shouting again, this time chasing one another around the kitchen, prompting Ewan to erupt into a fit of giggles. Antony rolls his eyes and shakes his head, letting out an exasperated sigh that sounds well beyond his young years.

Sebastian never thought in a million years that at the age of thirty he would have four sons, his genetics wreaking havoc on his peaceful life and blessing him with nearly identical copies of himself. With the exception of the twin’s blonde locks and Ewan’s grey eyes, most days it feels like he is surrounded by children under the guise of Polyjuice. And they don't just look like him, either. They all have some aspect of his wild personality, making him mumble apologies to the afterlife—was he this much of a handful for his mother and father?

Maintaining his patience, Sebastian manages to stop the toddlers in their tracks, trying not to laugh at their scrunched-up faces when they attempt to protest.

“Hey now, remember we’re supposed to be quiet so mummy can sleep,” he explains in a gentle tone, thinking of his wife who has been plagued with a cold for the last few days. “Why don’t you all go outside and play—”

“NO!” the twins shout simultaneously, and Sebastian really considers he’s been cursed, the universe delivering him his karma in the form of two rambunctious offspring.

Cailean and Finlay wiggle out of their father’s grasp and attempt to run out of the kitchen, only to skid to a halt when they see their mother standing in the archway. She’s a little bleary from a restless sleep, but as beautiful as ever. The two flash sweet smiles, folding their hands behind their backs.  

“Now you’ve done it,” Antony mutters, scooting his chair up to stand. He plucks Ewan from the highchair, the babe reaching out to squish his older brother’s cheeks. They exit through the nearby door to the garden.

Sloane tilts her head as she observes the remaining two, who are trying their best to appear innocent. She tuts, shaking her head. “You heard your father.”

They are out of the house as if they’ve apparated, dashing through the kitchen door. “Yes, mother!”

With all four children outside, Sebastian sighs, welcoming Sloane’s embrace as she comes to stand next to him. He greets her with a soft peck, “sorry if we woke you.”

“It’s alright,” she says softly, plucking a stuck piece of parchment from his back that reads, dummy. Sloane stifles her laughter as Sebastian groans. “I’m saving this for later.”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder, the two glancing out the kitchen window to watch their children play. Antony is sitting in the grass with Ewan in his lap, chatting to his babbling baby brother about the plants and flowers that surround them as Cailean and Finlay run themselves ragged, screaming incoherent, toddler obscenities.

As hectic as the days are, Sebastian enjoys his life as a busy father and husband, finding comfort in the chaos. He kisses Sloane’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I love you.”

She tilts her head back to look up at him and he raises a curious eyebrow at her devious expression. He nervously chuckles, “what is it?”

Sloane grins.

“I’m pregnant.”

[armoricaroyalty]

Rosalind of Armorica: The princess will see you now

Crown Princess Rosalind wants to become the most accessible member of the Armorican royal family. Is she ready for the pressure?

It’s hard to escape Crown Princess Rosalind. The 27-year-old heir to the Armorican throne is seemingly everywhere: cutting ribbons at hospital wards in Nordienne, meeting with conservationists and gamekeepers in the highlands north of Bortaine, smiling on the cover of glossy supermarket tabloids.

The omnipresence is part of a deliberate strategy, according to the Crown Princess. “We can’t hold ourselves apart from the people we serve,” says Rosalind. “We need to be hypervisible. We have to be real to our people, not just faces on stamps.”

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: I never do recreations, but I did recreate this 2021 Tatler cover because it was just really striking. Thank you to @warwickroyals for sharing the Tatler graphic with me!

article continues below the cut!

Of course, hypervisibility is nothing new to the mega-popular heir to the Armorican throne. Already a superstar within her home country, Rosalind rose to international prominence after accompanying her father on a state visit to Uspana in November 2017. At just 27 years old, she is already considered one of the most accomplished living royals. In 2012, she graduated from the elite Allard University with dual degrees in economics and music performance. Two years later, she launched herself into full-time royal work, quickly racking up 34 patronages, ranging from the national ballet to the Ministry for Sustainable Energy. Last year, she completed over 400 engagements on behalf of her father. In terms of extracurricular activities, Rosalind is an accomplished tennis player, speaks six languages fluently, composed the score for ANN’s upcoming documentary on sustainable energy Green Horizons, and owns an international real estate portfolio valued in the hundreds of millions.

Sitting across from me at a private supper club in the tony Pearl District, she brings a relentless, focused energy to our conversation. Everything about her conveys poise and intensity, from her impeccable posture to her ad-exec smile to her sensible suede pumps. Her favorite rose-shaped brooch (purchased by her great-grandfather in 1962 and worn by both her grandmother and great-grandmother) adorns the lapel of her cropped jacket, which the diminutive Crown Princess has paired with wide-legged trousers. Her smile doesn’t waver as the conversation turns to her relationship with her father.

"We have very different styles. [My father has] never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

“His Majesty is very supportive,” Rosalind says. “We work together very well, and in the last few years, he’s really come to rely on me.” It’s a bold claim for a member of the normally self-effacing and media-shy Armorican royal family, but it’s backed up by the numbers: including his weekly visits with the prime minister, the reclusive King of the Armoricans carried out just 131 engagements last year, approximately one third the number completed by the overachieving Crown Princess. “We have very different styles,” she laughs. “He’s never given an interview, and well, look at me now!”

"I suppose [my parents] meant well, but [my upbringing has] been quite a disadvantage."

Crown Princess Rosalind is the oldest child and only daughter of Andre, King of the Armoricans and former hockey pro Elise Sutton. According to Rosalind, the King and Queen—then the Duke and Duchess of Arbor—tried to give their children an “informal upbringing,” away from the pressures of royal life. “I suppose they meant well, but it’s really been quite a disadvantage,” she confesses. “When I meet my peers internationally, it’s very clear that they were more directly brought up to rule. I used to feel so behind. I’ve had to work hard to catch up.”

“Was it difficult, growing up as a member of the Royal Family?” I ask.

“No,” says Rosalind, hesitating. “But I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

“I think that it was difficult to be royal in my family.”

[sentientgolfball]

you and i share a dangerous obsession with phantom its dangerous!!! anyways may i request a hurt/comfort type of scenario. everywhere i look its just phantom angst and being excluded from the ghoul pack so why not contribute to this trend!!!!!

reader is out in the woods taking a stroll when they're suddenly charged at by a dog but hearing their scream, phantom comes in and chases the dog away. reader and phantom havent had much interaction with one another given how badly the ghoul pack shoves him away and when reader realizes this, they take him back to their room where they ease phantom with affection and phantom basically MELTS

hes being given more attention by a human than his pack :[

sorry for the lengthy request!!!

Never apologize for a lengthy request ! I hope you like this one I kinda made it a mutual hurt/comfort. Everyone gets to be sad and everyone gets a hug

My requests are open !

The crunching of the leaves underfoot comes to an abrupt halt. You stop and slowly scan the wilderness surrounding you. It’s green and lush, teeming with life and the sweet smells of blooming wildflowers. The whole forest is cast in a golden glow as the setting sun pours through the foliage. You close your eyes and throw your head back and let out a deep sigh that’s been stuck in you all day. You feel the prick of tears in the corners of your eyes but you will yourself not to let them gather. You were out here to feel better, not worse. 

You really don’t know what got to you, but for the past few days you’ve felt like absolute shit. You didn’t understand it, everything was going pretty good in your life you knew that. You got promoted to lead your job at the Ministry, you’ve made a cluster of new friends from the influx of Siblings, and you still maintained close ties with your friends who volunteered to go to different branches. But something struck you every so often. Normally you had enough around you to distract you, but one night one off handed comment that was meant to be more of a joke than anything made something within you bubble. You tried so hard to make it go away, to not focus on it, to rationalize with yourself but you just couldn’t. It put you in a slump for the whole weekend. You had to force yourself to chip away at the project you were tasked with. You had to force yourself to shower. You didn’t have enough left in you to do your laundry or clean your space by the end of the day. You needed to get lost in something that wasn’t your mind. That’s what led you out into the middle of the woods. You remember something about nature being good for mental health. 

You walked for a while, stopping every so often to take a picture of a mushroom or leaf that stood out to you. When the forest got darker you decided it was time to head back to the Ministry, you didn’t feel much better but you couldn’t stay outside forever. You started walking back the way you came letting your feet drag on. You really didn’t want to have to return to the real world, but you knew you had to. You continued a bit farther before stopping. 

Didn’t I already pass that stump?

You take out your phone to check your pictures only to realize it had died. How did you not realize it was so low before coming out into the middle of the woods? You cursed and looked around in an attempt to get your bearings, but it was only getting dark as the sun sank before the horizon. You felt sick as the realization that you were lost starts to sink into your mind. You looked in each direction briefly considering picking a path and following it, but it would do you no good. Everything looked the same in the fading light and it made you disoriented. You hang your head in defeat and try to convince yourself that sleeping outside for one night wouldn’t be so bad. 

Well…at least it can’t get any worse. 

You should’ve kept your thoughts to yourself. You hear a howl in the distance and you freeze, tensing. You forgot about the hellhounds. How could you forget about the hellhounds.

 To be fair, the hounds only appeared at night to act as guards for Ministry grounds and you typically were not out and about after dinner. The issue now, though, is you have no idea what to do. If the hounds catch you you’re definitely dead. If you stay put they’ll find you easily. If you run they’ll chase the scent and you’ll just get more lost. 

You don’t have a lot of time to think before you hear a twig snap. You whip around to find the source and see two red pinhole eyes creeping out from the brush. It’s growling low, drool dripping from its maw. It snaps its teeth and you feel your heart pound in your ears. You slowly start to back up from it before your back hits a tree. You stare wide eyed at the beast and send a quick prayer that whatever it does will be quick and painless. You see the way its hind legs shift and you know it’s rearing back to pounce. You screw your eyes shut and hope for the best when you hear its growl turn into a full bark. You wait for the burn of claws and teeth…and you wait. 

When the tearing of flesh doesn’t come you crack open your eyes to see a soft purple glow and a tail waving side to side. You watch the hellhound creep closer to the figure, sniff it, and then turn and dart into the bush it first came out of. The second it’s gone the glow disappears and the ghoul hunches over with his hands on his knees. 

“Lord’s below that was terrible. The puppies are so cute I don’t understand how they grow into that.” 

“Uhh…”

“Oh!” He turns around suddenly “Are you alright? It didn’t bite you did it? Oh what am I thinking if it did you wouldn’t be standing here.” 

You stare at the ghoul in front of you. The left half of his face is cracked with lichtenberg figure scars that dip below the neckline of his top. His eyes are mismatched, one the typical color for quintessence, the other looks almost hollow with the pupil glowing faintly. He has a shock of white in his hair that perfectly lines up with the end of one of the branches of his scars. But all that isn’t what catches your attention. No, what you notice is the very obvious streaks of dried tears on his cheeks. 

“Yeah…yeah I’m okay. Uh are you?” 

“Hm? Oh yea! The hellhounds won’t attack ghouls. We smell like the Infernal to them.” 

“That’s not” you pause and shake your head “You’re Phantom right? One of the new papal ghouls?” 

His posture goes rigid when you say this but he nods anyway. He asks for your name and you give it to him and you are suddenly very aware of the tension in the air. After a moment he clears his throat. 

“If you don’t mind me asking…why are in the woods? I thought humans couldn’t survive outside for long.”

You almost wanted to laugh at the statement. The way he said it was filled with such genuine curiosity it made your heart warm. But then you remembered why you were out there and your face fell again. His scars seemed to pulse dimly with light and the ghoul suddenly looked panicked. 

“No, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by that I was just—“ 

You shake your head “No it’s not anything you did Phantom. I just…had a rough couple of days. Needed somewhere to go.” 

His eyes scan over you for a moment before he wraps himself in a hug, tail curling around his leg. 

“Yeah I…I don’t know much about humans, but I think I know exactly what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh yeah?” 

You look up at him and your heart breaks when you see just how small he looks. You tentatively reach towards him and you’re taken aback by how quickly he jumps into you. You freeze for a second not really sure what to do with a ghoul wrapped around you. You know ghouls are pack creatures so this is normal behavior. You slowly bring your arms up and around him, patting his back softly. That seems to do the trick as you feel his tail wrap loosely around your leg. You shudder feeling a zap of quintessence ripple through you. He pulls back just enough to look at you. He looks like he got punched in the gut. 

“I can make that go away. It’ll be easy and you’ll be happy again.” 

“What?” You say astonished before mentally slapping yourself. Quintessence ghouls can sense emotion, and in rare cases read minds. 

“Just let me make someone happy please.” He sounds desperate, almost afraid. 

“Phantom you can’t…make me happy. Well okay technically yes you can, but that’s magic. It’s going to change what’s wrong.” 

He hesitates “What is wrong?” 

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity before sighing and untangling yourself from him. You slump down against a tree and close your eyes, resting your head against the trunk. A quick smile flashes onto your face when you feel him sit next to you, tail now twining around your arm. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. Something about the way he looks at you makes you feel safe, seen. You feel your throat burn and you cough before you begin to explain what’s been causing you so much grief. 

You were lonely. 

“I know it must be such a silly thing for me to complain about…especially to a ghoul.” You say finishing out your tangent. 

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head “No I get it..”

You look up from where you had been playing with his fingers and gasp seeing the tears welling in his eyes. 

“Phantom what’s—“ 

You were cut off by him pulling you into another hug, but this one was filled with something deep. 

“Why do they all hate me? I didn’t ask for this! I try so hard to be everything they need so maybe they’ll keep me around.”

“Phantom?” 

“But they don’t! They always pair off and I’m the odd one out every time! I know they’d rather have Aether. I’m not stupid, but why won’t they just give me a chance?” 

“Phantom.” 

“I know I’m just a waste of resources to them. I know none of them would bat an eye if I just disappeared.”

“Phantom!” 

He stops and stares at you wide eyed, tears running down his face. You gently reach out and hold his cheek in your hand. He melts into the touch as a sob wracks his body. 

“I want you here.”

“But…we just met. Why do you care? Why would you want me?” 

“I could ask you the same. You came to help me without even knowing my name.”

He sniffs “I wasn’t gonna just let you get ripped to little fleshy bits.” 

You cringe a little at his choice of words but continue “I don’t know the full extent of what’s going on but…it sounds like you could use someone to help fend off those bad thoughts.” 

“Like a friend?” 

“Yeah” you smile “Like a friend. We can be alone together. How about that?” 

“I think I need that.” 

You pull him into you and let him lay his head on your chest. You two sit like that for a long time, silently bathing in each other’s presence. You let a few more tears fall from your eyes. For the little ghoul that was so shunned by his pack he had to find comfort in a human who barely knew him. For yourself who had so many people around them but still felt this hole deep inside of your soul. For both of you who found each other. 

You run a hand through his hair when you hear the softest of purrs vibrate through him. It sounds a bit scratchy at first, but soon it turns into an even rumble. You gently shake him.

“Hey it’s getting cold…we should probably find our way back inside.” 

“Oh” his ears droop “Yeah you’re probably right.” 

“Do you wanna…would you maybe wanna stay with me for the night.” 

He instantly perks up “Really? I mean I would love to. I yes I would yes.” 

You both stand and he leads the way once you explain to him that you actually have no idea where you’re at. You take over, though, once into the Ministry. You both curl up under your mound of blankets and spend the rest of the night going back and forth about the things that plague your mind, about the stupid things that make you smile, about each other until you fall into a deep sleep feeling content with the weight next to you, but also the weight that disappeared from your shoulders.

Maybe being alone wasn't so bad if it led you to him.

[silverofthunder]

first kisses (headcanons)

i've been struggling a bit with writing but managed to write these little headcanons. enjoy! 😊

content: fluff, romance, SFW

🔸Primo🔸

It had happened on a lovely date. It had been such a pretty summer evening and Primo had arranged a small picnic for you, on your favorite spot in the garden, of course. You two had sat down on the blanket, eaten delicious snacks and drunk some wine and before you even had known it, the sun had been setting, the yellow glow slowly fading into the horizon.

You had pressed yourself against Primo's side and the man had taken your hands in his, slowly caressing your skin with his thumbs. When you had finally torn your gaze from the setting sun, you had caught Primo already looking at you, eyes soft and a small, happy smile on his lips.

You had smiled back at him and then his other hand had cupped your face and in the next moment, you both had leaned closer and your lips had met in a chaste kiss. It hadn't lasted long but it had still left a pleasant fluttering in your chest and you had known that it was just the beginning.

.

.

🔸Secondo 🔸

You weren't surprised that it happened when Secondo was in the bad mood. The man certainly was easy to rile up and you hadn’t even dared to ask what had gotten him so angry.

He hadn't said a word to you as he had just barged into your room. You had been in the middle of cleaning, so naturally you had stopped dusting the shelf and then Secondo had been there, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

And before you even realized his lips had smashed against yours. You had dropped the dust blower and grabbed a hold of Secondo's upper arms as you had been thoroughly kissed by the man. That kiss had made your knees buckle and your heart had been beating in your chest rapidly.

With each movement of your mouths, you had felt Secondo relaxing and when the air had become needed, you had parted and he had let out a long sigh right after.

You only had smiled at him love-struck, all the sensible words gone from your mind. But you had known that words weren't needed in that moment.

.

.

🔸Terzo🔸

Dinner, wine, flowers, music and dancing. Just the two of you in Terzo's room. The food had been so delicious that you had sworn you would never eat anything else. Terzo had laughed at that heartily and promised that it could be arranged.

The whole room was decorated by the flowers and candles and while it seemed to be a bit exaggerated, you had loved it. Obviously Terzo had put a lot of thought and effort arranging the whole date.

When he had stood up and offered you his hand and asked you for a dance, you had rolled your eyes but your smile had betrayed you. You had taken his hand and stood up, letting him guide you further away from the table.

Slowly you had started to sway to the music, your other hand settled on Terzo's shoulder and other intertwined with his. His eyes had been locked with yours and your heart had been fluttering in your chest warmly.

When he had guided you to spin, you had done so, a huge smile on your lips and right after he had cupped your face and for a moment everything had seemed to stop. Then Terzo had leaned in and captured your lips in a sweet kiss.

Yes, it had been cheesy and everything but for such a hopeless romantic as yourself, it had been just perfect.

.

.

🔸Copia🔸

It had started from the bouquet of flowers with a little note card that you had found in your room one afternoon. As soon as you had read the note card, a huge smile had spread onto your lips. You had to go to search for another one as the first note card had suggested and so you had done so.

Other note cards had been spread all around the Ministry and the more you found, the more excited you had become. As soon as you had finished reading the last note card you had found in the garden, near the forest, you basically had started to run along the path that went through the said forest. It hadn’t been a wonder that when you had arrived to the small pond, you had been slightly out of breath.

Copia had been there, waiting for you, and he had smiled at you, though you had been able to tell from the way he was fumbling with the sleeves of his shirt that he was nervous. The silence had felt a bit awkward but eventually you had broken it by telling Copia the note cards had been a lovely idea.

He had seemed to be glad that you had liked them and he had taken a step closer to your, reaching for your hands. Your eyes had locked with his and Copia had started to speak, straight from his heart, and you had listened every word, the warmth spreading in your chest.

When he had been done with his adorable speech, you had just shaken your head and leaned in to kiss him. Copia had melted into it, his arms finding their way around you, pulling you closer and you had just smiled against his lips.

[raccoonfallsharder]

rocket raccoon prompt week ✷ day seven home ✷.⁺⋆˚₊

fluff | no use of yn | gn reader | drabble | word count: 661.

Home had been a shining city on the far horizon for most of Rocket’s formative years: distant and gleaming under an impossible blossom-blue dome. Unreachable. Untouchable. He’d left any hope of it behind, a dozen cannon-shots or more before he’d ever even stepped foot off the Arête. No. Rocket had gone straight from the cages and right into his escape pod, out into a sky that had suddenly seemed much less beautiful and much more forever. 

And so home had always been a far-away thing, a thing he could never go back to, a thing that — like love, like peace, like a restful night’s sleep or body that didn’t hurt — Rocket could simply never have. A thing that hadn’t been meant for him. Like the screws slowly grinding away at his bones or the muscle contractures he’s always fighting in his hips and chest, home had just become another old ache that he’d grown to barely notice, except when he’s on a planet where the weather is bad. 

And then, one shift — when it was just you and him — he’d been trying to work the knots out of his shoulders. You’d reached out with dancing fingers and a query on your lips — a gentle little sound of offering — and he’d gone as still as a moon pinned between two gravity wells. Your fingers had felt light as little birds, perched on his shoulders weightlessly, and you’d guided them into a rolling series of rotations. Then you’d tugged him between your knees, and kneaded every small stone you’d found lodged under his skin and fur. 

When he’d finally gone as molten and buttery as a beeswax candle on a warm day, you’d murmured another little question. He’d blinked at you blankly — completely disconnected from anything but the feel of his body, pliant for the first time in possibly his entire life — so you’d pulled him onto your lap and continued your little ministry of touch until he’d fully curled up, his tail a wreath of feathery brushes around you both. His back had pressed itself into your hands as you’d worked your thumbs into the base of his spine: freeing the tension from his hips, beckoning it out of muscle and bone, letting it dissipate into the air between your fingertips. Your hands had been so warm that even all the metal plates and bolts deep inside had suddenly felt like a part of him — had suddenly matched his own body temperature — every piece slotting together inside him with a rightness he’d never known before. The air in his lungs had turned into little pearls and gemstones, spilling up into his throat like jeweled gravel. He’d made a noise — some kind of rumble — and it had startled him until your hands had soothed over him again and you’d whispered something that had sounded like you’re just purring. 

He’d never say any of this in front of the others, never let them know about this: about how soft he is for this, for the warm quiet circle of space in your arms and on your thighs. He’d never climb into your lap like this if they could see it; never make a nest out of your body-heat and burrow into the loose thick folds of your sweatshirt. He  only does it on the shifts when everyone else is asleep, or planetside, or away. 

It’s not that he’s ashamed. It’s just — this is something special and precious and small, and if he looks at it too closely or acknowledges it exists, he may never have it back. But for now — for these moments that he can only measure in the soft wash of his breath or the thrum of his pulse in his wrists, the steady sound of your heartbeat holding him together like gravity — for now, it’s touchable, and attainable, and real — 

Moreso than any shining city on the far horizon, glimmering against the sweep of a blossom-blue ocean and a forever sky.

i did it! i brought my wordcount down! this was just a fun little exercise in writing whatever weird shit came to my mind so sorry if it makes no sense but i figured i'd indulge my inclination toward purple prose (get rekt literary critics). anyway this was fun and i am very much in favor of many future rocket raccoon prompts & prompt weeks, and thank you for creating this and bringing it to my attention, @frostedwitch ♡♡♡

i will be putting out a masterlist for this set of prompts sometime next week probably. i really hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoyed writing! ♡

day six. bite rocket prompt week masterlist ✷ main masterlist rocket raccoon prompt week list

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Murder ghoul Dew ! Plus Dewther fluff, kinda ? 

Cw : blood, like, a lot of blood, description of a kinda gruesome dead body (not in heavy details but still there), murder.

Dew doesn’t know who the person is. Was.  Anyway. He really doesn’t, and that is where lies the whole problem.

If quintessence ghouls are known to be protective, fire ghouls are said to be territorial beings. And, look. Dew doesn’t like stereotypes, but this one…well. This one rings like truth. 

The mangled body at his feet certainly looks like a proof.

There’s blood everywhere ; pooling around what’s left of the corpse, soaking through Dewdrop’s clothes, painting the skin of his arms up to his elbows a dark shade of red, dripping from the fire ghoul’s mouth. He’s sure his hair wasn’t left untainted either, light strands probably turned a rusty color. 

The coppery taste on his tongue, though, brings a smile to Dewdrop’s lips. He picked the person’s scent up from the well on the east side of Primo’s rose garden. He had been aimlessly wandering, lost in thought and peaceful, when this foreign smell had hit his nostrils. 

Now, Dew’s nose might not be as keen as Mountain’s, but he knows an unknown scent when he smells one. It immediately raised his hackles, alarms ringing in his head as only two instincts took over : defend and protect. This place, and the people in it, are his.

His to keep hidden from those who aren’t supposed to find them. His to keep cloaked in protective mystery. His responsablility. Of course, deep down, Dew knows that he isn’t carrying the Church’s safety on his shoulders all by himself. There are plenty of people, ghouls and humans alike, who ensure each day that danger is kept away.

But in that moment, Dewdrop was running on instinct alone. The only thing he knew was that whoever this person was, they had no business being here, on the Ministry’s ground at this hour - early evening, the sun beginning to start its slow descent toward the horizon.

He knew this person wasn’t supposed to be there. Dew, as well as most ghouls, always make a point of discreetly scenting every new member of the Church, to know every smell that belongs to it. It doesn’t take that much brainpower : scents are stored in that primitive, instinctive part of their brain, and anyway, after a week of so, everyone belonging to the Church ends up smelling faintly of encens and old wood.

But this person did not smell like anything Dewdrop knew. Sure, there sometimes are visitors, but their presence is strictly scheduled and monitored. Because the Clergy knows better than to let strangers roam the place unaccompanied at any hour of the day ; they aim, that way, to avoid precisely what situation Dew just manslaughtered his way in.

For now, though, blood-drunk, knowing the Church is safe, Dew cannot bring himself to care about the consequences of his actions. 

That is until he catches another scent, this one terribly familiar.

« Dew, where were you- »

Aether abruptly cuts himself off the second he catches sight of the scene : Dew, drenched in blood and euphoric, while at his feet, what’s left of a person who really shouldn’t have been there lays broken and torn open like a gory piñata.

«…what happened ? »

Dew blinks, slow and lazy, something primal in him sated, for now.

« …stranger danger ? » he offers, small smile curling his lips.

Aether raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

« You’re ten times the danger this poor bastard ever dreamt to be. »

This statement doesn’t stop the quint from cupping Dew’s cheek with one big, calloused hand, uncaring of the blood. It is such a Aether thing to do, holding Dew with all the delicacy one would reserve to a particularly expensive piece of art, even as the fire ghoul stands smiling above the evidence of the murder he just committed.

It makes Dew’s stomach flip pleasantly everytime, and encourages him to nuzzle Aether’s palm with a purr, shooting him a coy look from under pale eyelashes.

« I have no idea what you’re talking about, » he hums with a smirk. Aether swipes his thumb along Dew’s cheekbone, huffing fondly.

« I’m sure you don’t. Seriously, though. You’re okay, right ? »

Dewdrop shrugs, letting Aether tug him closer until he can wrap his arms around the fire ghoul’s frame.

« Sure am. That’s not my blood. »

Aether’s scent - familiar, soothing, safe - surrounds Dew until it’s the only thing he can smell.

« I’ll take care of my mess, just give me a minute, yeah ? » the fire ghoul mumbles against Aether’s chest.

« Nah. You’re going to sneak back to your room and take a shower. No one can see you that way. I’ll deal with the body- send Mount my way, yeah ? He’s been saying he needed some fertilizer, looks like today’s his lucky day. »

Dew’s about to protest : after all, as he just pointed out, that’s his mess they’re talking about, but Aether doesn’t give him the opportunity. His hand finds the back of the fire ghoul’s neck, guiding him into a kiss that turns heated surprisingly quick.

Okay, so what if Dew is a bit easy for Aether ? So what if he let himself get distracted, mouth opening up to welcome Aether’s tongue, hands finding the quint’s love handles and anchoring themselves there, fingers digging into the flesh with what Dew hopes is bruising strength ? He hopes it’ll leave pretty marks. Anyone would cave with the way Aether pours his everything in each of his kisses.

When they pull away, disheveled and out of breath, Dew notes with satisfaction that some of the blood transferred on Aether as well, just another tangible proof of Dew’s claim on the quint. 

The fire ghoul is ready to dive back into another kiss, maybe even let Aether fuck him right here right now in the blood-soaked dirt, but the quint grabs him firmly by the jaw, stopping him dead in his tracks.

« Later, » Aether chuckles, « just wait for me in my room once you’ve showered, if you’re still so eager by the time you’re done. »

Dew flashes him a grin that could rival Swiss’, wide and feral as can be.

« Oh you bet I’ll be. »

Aether laughs again, joyful sound so at odds with the rest of the scenery, spins Dew around to make him face the Church’s looming buildings, and sends the fire ghoul on his merry way with a slap on his ass. 

Dew’s never showered as quickly as he does tonight.

[loneamaryllis]

Snarriet Rec List - Long fics (100k+)

Certain Dark Things

by evejenson (rentachi). Rated M. Nearly 900k, WIP. Slytherin Harry. Wrong-Boy-Who-Lived. Mentor Tom Riddle.

They sought her out for conversation sometimes, cornering her in the garden or at the park, not that they ever had much to say. Really, Harriet thought snakes were rather dull.

---------

Harriet Potter has always been odd. Between having a shadow that moves on its own and chatting with grass snakes, learning she's a witch really isn't the strangest thing to happen to the bespectacled girl with a lightning scar on her neck.

Harriet attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she makes new friends, encounters a prickly Potions Master, learns about the Boy Who Lived, and meets the enigmatic Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Tom Slytherin.

Why I rec it: This is the best HP fic, period. A retelling of the entire series, where Harriet is sorted in Slytherin in a world where Voldemort won (but not overtly so). Incredible character work, dense world-building fed to us in perfectly-sized bites, clever foreshadowing, and really, really great writing overall. Plus, if you love Voldemort, you'll love what the author did with him in this fic. I can't recommend it enough.

Saving Snape

by @loneamaryllis. Rated E. 206k. Auror Harry Potter. Sentient Hogwarts. Courting Rituals.

Severus Snape is receiving death threats. The Ministry decides that Auror Harrie Potter should be assigned to his protection.

Why I rec it: A self rec! Someone is trying to kill Snape and Harrie has to protect him. There's a mystery, some angst, some pining, a lot of smut in the later half of the fic, and a sentient Hogwarts who ships Snarriet.

Carrying Atlas

by @hirukochan. Rated E. 126k, WIP. (Underage) Daddy Dom Severus Snape. BDSM Contract. Collaring.

On a late night walk Snape stumpled upon no other than Harriet Potter who was once again in trouble. How deep the trouble ran and why none of those close to her realised how badly she was taking the loss of her godfather would remain a mystery but Snape had sacrificed too much to let her give up now.

Or

Harrie tries to cope through meaningless sex with strangers and Snape decides in order to keep her safe from depraved men only wanting to exploit her he has to become one of them and make it worth her while.

Why I rec it: The Snarriet BDSM fic! Harrie enters into a contract with Snape as some sort of therapy. The smut is ultra hot, Snape is very respecting of Harrie's boundaries while having to deal with his own issues, and while there's angst, there are also a lot of fluffy moments. Plus there's not a lot of Snarriet fics where Harrie calls Snape Daddy so if that's what you're looking for, you're in for a treat.

The Blood of the Enemy

by @rose-colored-glasses7. Rated M. 154k, WIP. (Underage) Blood and Violence. Morally Grey Harry Potter. Toxic Relationship.

Cedric Diggory is dead. Following the terrible ending to the Triwizard Tournament, Emma Potter has returned to the Dursleys to mourn the death of her boyfriend. However, soon enough, an attack on Privet Drive leads to her arrival at 12 Grimmauld Place - the headquarters to the mysterious Order of the Phoenix. The blood wards have fallen. When frightful visions begin to consume her mind, Emma's forced to take lessons with her hateful potions professor. Cruel, sadistic, dark, by any right the lessons should make her hate him even more. Only, as the lessons continue, she finds herself more and more drawn to him... Lord Voldemort has returned. As the latest Defense professor wreaks havoc on Hogwarts, Emma searches for answers about the terrible connection between her and Voldemort - and why, exactly, he came after her all those years ago. The web of truth and lies is unraveling… and she begins to wonder if Emma Potter was ever really alive at all. With war looming on the horizon and the Ministry in firm denial of his return, Emma begins her worst year at Hogwarts yet. The question is, can she survive it?

Why I rec it: Emma Potter is a great take on a female Harry. She's a bit darker, a bit more cerebral, and her connection to Voldemort takes more place than in canon. Her relationship with Snape is wonderfully multi-layered and so tense!

Gravity

by SlytherinsQuill. Rated E. 268k, WIP. Violence. Trauma. Eventual Happy Ending.

What if Harry Potter was born a girl and known as Rosalie Potter? How might it change the dynamics of life as the most famous teenager in the Wizarding World? At the end of Rosalie Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts, war has broken out in the Wizarding World as a result the attack on Hogwarts. Forced to spend the summer at Grimmauld Place for her own safety, Rosalie learns more about herself and the people around her than she ever thought possible. Relationships form, friendships change and she learns just how much the people in your life influence who you are and who you have the potential to become.

Why I rec it: A great fic depicting the evolving relationship between Rosalie and Snape with the hunt for Horcruxes as a background. The smut scenes are so well-crafted, very emotional and both soft and passionate. Some scenes are so epic they'll stay with you for a long time.

The Never-Ending Road and its sequel No Journey's End

by @laventadorn. Rated M. 656k, WIP. Female Friendship. Protective Severus Snape.

AU. When Lily died, Snape removed his heart and replaced it with a steel trap. But rescuing her daughter from the Dursleys in the summer of ’92 is the first step on a long road to discovering this is less true than he’d thought. A girl!Harry story, starting in Chamber of Secrets and continuing through Goblet of Fire. Future Snape/Harriet. (OotP - DH will continue in a separate story.)

Why I rec it: An epic retelling of the series, starting at Year 2. My favorite thing in this fic are the description of Snape's eyes. Intense and so poetic! The world-building is great, and the relationships between the characters are well-developed.

Wearing Only a Sneer

by pluperfectsunrise. Rated E. 100k, WIP. Slow Burn. First Time. Love Confessions.

With the war finally over, Harry Potter is dead set on losing her virginity. What will happen when she decides that the perfect candidate for a partner in this endeavor is Severus Snape?

Why I rec it: I love the way Harriet slowly convinces Snape to get in bed with her. The smut is so tender and also so hot! Also the only Snarriet fic to feature Harriet pegging Snape, to my knowledge.

Grey Hours

by @spicedlantern. Rated M. 101k, WIP. Time Travel. Angst.

She'll need to put them in various boxes in her head to cope - constant reminders of where they end up, no matter where and what they are in her present - no matter what her eyes see. Lily Evans - murdered. James Potter - murdered. Sirius Black - murdered. Albus Dumbledore - murdered. Remus Lupin - alive - alive with a son, and that, at least, she has to hold on to -

Severus Snape -

Traitor.

--

Or: In June 1999, a group of rogue Death Eaters led by Bellatrix Lestrange breaks into the Ministry. They steal six "true" time turners.

In August 1975, Auror Harriet Potter appears in the middle of Albus Dumbledore's office. He offers her a job.

Why I rec it: Another one of spicedlantern's excellent fics. An original plot, some truly great tension between Harriet and Snape, one adult Snape, one teenage Snape, and a Lily who gets to shine as a lot of chapters are from her POV. The author weaves a plotty tale with deliciously smutty moments once the Snarriet happens.

[darkmaga-retard]

"We are at the event horizon."

Lioness of Judah Ministry

By Edward Dowd September 6, 2024

For those who can handle the truth… Your government has:

Poisoned you

Implemented immigration measures to replace you

Created censorship mechanisms to silence and cancel you

Stolen from you through grift

Debased your wages through inflation

Started profiteering forever wars on your behalf

Propagandized your loved ones against common sense If you think the above is super groovy then vote the “Joy” ticket and carry on with the establishment!

We are at the event horizon.

[blueiscoool]

Pre-Incan Site for Ancestor Worship Found in Peru

A team of Peruvian and Japanese archaeologists has unearthed a pre-Hispanic archaeological site in northern Peru dedicated to ancestor worship, with burial chambers, human remains and ceramic offerings.

"We have discovered an archaeological site of the Wari period with an antiquity of between 800 to 1000 years AD" in the Cajamarca region 900 kilometers (560 miles) north of Lima, Japanese archaeologist Shinya Watanabe told AFP on Saturday.

"Two burial chambers with pits for placing mummies and offerings to the ancestors were found at the site," the expert said.

Each of the burial chambers contains two levels, and both have five niches in the walls that contain offerings such as mollusk shells, ceramic fragments and a tripod dish with three conical supports.

"It is a great find because the archaeologists were looking for evidence of the Wari culture," said Watanabe, who is a professor at Nanzan University in Japan.

A bundle containing a female character, a black Wari ceremonial vessel, two musical ceramic wind instruments, and two copper fasteners were also found.

The discovery occurred in the Jequetepeque valley in the province of San Miguel in Cajamarca, a region that abuts Ecuador.

"Many people of multiple origins lived here. It was a ceremonial center dedicated to the cult of the ancestors," Watanabe said.

Judith Padilla, head of Cajamarca's culture office, said the findings allow for an understanding of "the lifestyle and ritual practices" of the ancient societies that inhabited the region.

The Wari culture survived between the 7th and 13th centuries over territory that is present-day Peru, but by 1100 AD the Wari were conquered by the rising Inca empire.

The discovery was made by the Project of Archaeological Investigation (PIA) Terlen-La Bomba and it occupies about 24 hectares (60 acres).

The Ministry of Culture indicated that the main objective of the research is to understand the socio-political system of the Cajamarca culture during the Middle Horizon (900 to 1000 years AD) and its relationship with the Wari culture.

[absumoaevum]

Jury of Hearts (29,473 Words || WIP) by absumoaevum

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Harry Potter

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Crookshanks (Harry Potter), Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Eudoria Merrythought, Luna Lovegood, Patience Bright, Pomona Sprout, Minerva McGonagall, Horace Slughorn, Violetta Hitchens, Percy Weasley, Leta Brindlemore

Additional Tags: Hogwarts Eighth Year, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, POV Third Person Limited, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, Angst and Feels, Hermione Granger's Parents Are Missing, Post-Second Wizarding War with Voldemort (Harry Potter), Eventual Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy

Summary:

With his family's trials on the horizon and nothing holding him to his home apart from his despondent mother and perpetually-drunk father, Draco Malfoy jumps at the opportunity to return to Hogwarts to repeat his final year. At Hogwarts, he can escape his wretched home life and perhaps even rehabilitate his reputation. Things are looking up. That is, until he gets to school and realizes that his entire House hates him. Now Draco must decide between his old life and something new.

New is the last thing that Hermione Granger needs. All she wants is for her life to go back to the way it was before the war. When a hearing at the Ministry goes sideways, Hermione accepts Headmistress McGonagall's offer to return to Hogwarts, sure answers lie hidden in the school library that will help her find her missing parents. But Hogwarts is a very different place than she remembers, and Hermione must change as well if she has any hope of overcoming her past to reclaim her future.

Fates intertwine and loyalties are tested in this Post-War 8th-Year Slow Burn Dramione Drama/Suspense/Romance.

Updates Mondays.

[tedwardremus]

WIP Wednesday

preview of the next chapter of Padfoot in Privet Drive

And in case people want to share some WIP Wednesday fun: @thecasualauthor @nodirectionhome-ao3 @ginnyw-potter @nena-96 @sophie-hatter-jenkins

Harry and Sirius sat on a swing set as the sun set over Little Whinging, the sky awash with hues of orange and pink as the sun set over Little Whinging. The air was warm and stifling in the unusually dry summer. Harry broke the silence, his voice tinged with hurt. "How can you act like nothing happened? Everyone acts like they’re your friend, but…" Harry trailed off, unsure how to articulate what he was feeling.

Sirius sighed, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "The end of the war was complicated, Harry. Everyone was paranoid. There was a spy, and no one could figure out who it was."

"But that doesn’t explain why they abandoned you," Harry insisted, frustration evident in his tone.

Sirius turned to look at him, his expression somber. "They needed someone to blame, someone to focus their anger and grief on. We were young and brash and thought the Order was a bit of a laugh, to be honest. Everyone else was proper adults—Aurors, Ministry officials, politicians, journalists. They had all been on the frontlines of the war since I had started school. I think the other members spent most of the time annoyed at us, to be honest."

"But they had to know you wouldn’t be a Death Eater," Harry persisted.

Sirius let out a long sigh. Harry wasn’t sure if he would speak at all and looked away from Sirius, feeling a bit ashamed for having brought the topic up. He should have realized it was too sensitive of a conversation. But then Sirius got up from his swing and knelt before Harry, holding his eyesight.  "Voldemort started recruiting students, and Dumbledore wanted to know how they were recruited and who was being targeted for recruitment. Running a school that was turning into a hotbed for terrorist radicalization was highly concerning. We - me, your parents, Remus, and Peter- had just left school and were willing to fight on the frontlines while providing information on other students we knew - Snape, Avery, Mulciber… even my own family members. You see, my brother became a Death Eater while he was still a student, So I witnessed the radicalization happen firsthand in my own home. My cousins were Death Eaters. So we were useful… I was useful. But that didn’t mean I was trustworthy. I was aloof and increasingly stressed. I was upset about my brother dying, so I set off to figure out what happened, and I was paranoid about trying to keep your parents safe in hiding… I wasn’t acting like myself. But none of us were really. Not in the end."

[bugboy-behaviour]

!!URGENT!!

Please Help Evacuate Ezzideen Shehab and his Family from Gaza!!

Ezzideen Shehab and his family (Ezzideen, his 12-year-old brother Mazan, his sister Abdeer, his brother Hassan, and his mother and father) are currently trapped in Rafah & are suffering from dire starvation. They have already lost 72 family members. Please, anyone who sees this, read this post all the way through, reblog it, and please donate if you can.

Let @blackpearlblast know on this post when you donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe so that they and Boshra (the organizer of the campaign) can match the donations!!

There's other information on how to help at the bottom of this post.

Who are Ezzideen Shehab and his family?

Ezzideen Shehab is a brilliant new doctor, who had graduated only a week before the genocide in Gaza began. Throughout all of years of schooling, he never once visited his family back in Gaza, for fear of being trapped inside. Still, he had dreamed of seeing them again. When he finally graduated, the need for his family was immense. But when he finally took a trip back home to celebrate this incredible achievement with his loved ones, something he had dreamed of for so long, Israel trapped them inside Gaza, along with hundreds of thousands of others, murdered many of their family members, and destroyed their home.

His sister, Abeer, was doing incredible work as a translator before the genocide in Gaza. Tragically, she was unable to continue this pursuit, and lost her job because of the violent, constant, bombardments happening around her and her family.

Their brother, Hassan, is a responsible and kind man. He was working as an accountant, and had just secured an international work contract that would have provided Hassan and his family with an array of new horizons and opportunities. He and his family were this close to obtaining something new and promising, but because of influences outside of their control, this has been stripped from them.

Ezzideen's parents are amazing people who raised 4 wonderful children. Ezzideen's father had recently retired from his job as a dedicated employee at the Ministry of Information. But, instead of being rewarded for his hard work with a peaceful retirement, he has been met with the murders of his loved ones and a life of constant fear and danger.

Finally, there's Mazen, Ezzideen's 12-year-old younger brother. Mazen is an incredibly bright 7th grade boy, who, instead of going to school and experiencing typical 7th grade antics and embarrassments (which we all know this website loves to joke and reminisce about), is living under constant bombardment and starvation. He is faced with death and despair on a daily basis, as all other children in Gaza are. I have personally seen photos of children his age blown to bits. I can only imagine what he's seen. What he's felt. His right to be a child has been stripped from him under the Israeli command. Under no circumstances should a child be not allowed to grow up; growing up should not be a privilege. Mazen deserves to live a long and normal life, one where a daily fear of death upon him and his family members feels like an alien concept.

Mazen deserves to grow old, and he deserves to grow happy.

No one, let me repeat; No one, deserves to go through what Ezzideen and his family are going through right now. Certainly no child ever should. The genocide happening in Gaza right now is the most horrific thing I've ever seen in my life. I'm not exaggerating. This is the most horrific thing I have ever seen. And I'm just an American bystander. I can get up from my screen and leave the house and be safe. I cannot Fucking imagine what it must be like for the people trapped in Gaza. They can't do that. They can't get up and walk away from what's happening. This is their reality, every second of every day.

But it's not too late. You, the person reading this, have power in this situation. You have a voice. If we can get them the help they need, and soon, they can evacuate. Ezzideen can pursue a further education in medicine. Abeer and Hassan can continue their incredible work to support their family and themselves. Mazen can grow up.

Support for this family has already made a difference. By sharing and donating to their cause, Ezzideen's mother has already been able to register for evacuation. Your actions make a difference. Your shares make a difference. Your donations, no matter how small, make a difference. I promise.

How To Help

donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe, which I linked at the top of this post

Donate in exchange for commissions from @void-botanist (info here)

Donate 50$ or more in exchange for a t-shirt, bag, or notebook from @boshradaoud (info here)

Reply on this post when you donate to Ezzideen's GoFundMe so that they and Boshra (the organizer of the campaign) can match the donations

Reblog this post (& tag it with a recognizable tag so people can search for it on your blog)

Repost & share the information contained in this post to other social media websites (INCLUDE A LINK TO THE GOFUNDME)

Make your own posts about the subject!! The more people talking about this, the better!!

^^relating to that, DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE!!! no matter who you are, how small your blog is, or what theme you post with, YOU SHOULD BE SPEAKING OUT ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING IN GAZA, even if that just means reblogging every pro-palestine post you see!! THERE IS A GENOCIDE GOING ON!! and as a human being, it is YOUR responsibility to talk about it. That's just what you do.

If you can, attend protests and events in your community to help support Palestine. Remember to prepare with the proper equipment if you're going to be protesting (especially if you live in America) so that police will have a harder time recognizing you

Big thank you to Boshra Daoud for organizing Ezzideen's GoFundMe, for reaching out to me about this, and for providing all of the images used in this post.