#eats this art with a knife and fork

[lamina-tsrif]

i hate him

[bimbusbobus]

she is so freakin' ready

[mishkakagehishka]

im very late bc ur birthday is already over in ur timezone but its still the first over here so!!!! happy birthday!!!!!!!! i wanted to draw smth bc youve been going thru it in a while and i wanted to make u smile so. mika doodle in ur inbox. he wants to give u something but hes shy <3

Banging my fists on the floor. He's so cute🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank you so much awghdhsbs you didn't have to </333 but agwgsbdhdhb

[themetalvirus]

god i love this cover

[ufonaut]

It doesn’t matter because it’s wrong. Even if no one else can see it, I know it’s wrong. I’ll make sure this won’t exist. I’ll erase it. But... damn if it doesn’t feel real.

Flashpoint Beyond (2022) #2

[ozymoron]

Gave he clowny makeup

hes clowning around hehehehe

just remembered they didnt give him clown makeup night ruined

[nebula-nights]

Astarion themed bowl prefire 👍

[day-by-day-tobiaspuppich]

[milksuu]

❀. │GIRL DINNER (O2)│. ❀

❥ prompt: You're hungry. You want food. You want a snack. You just want SOMETHING. You send your HEARTSTEEL boyfriend(s) on a food-run adventure. Let's see what each boy brings back. ❥ content/warnings: sexually suggestive themes, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel (sett, yone, k'sante) / f!reader

SETT

foot-long sub and gatorade

When it comes to feeding you, Sett isn’t willing to compromise. He goes big, or he goes home. And he’s not going home empty handed. 

He Facetime’s you when he’s at the Deli counter of the local grocer, where the sub-meat selection is divine, options are abundant, and the portions are unbeatable. 

When you say you want double amounts of meat, you’re getting it. When you tell him you want more toppings, it’s done. Oh, you want your bread extra toasted and slathered in condiments? Baby, it’s yours. No problem—he’s got you.

When he comes home, you get a running head start, and jump into his arms without warning. The man has no trouble catching you, ever. 

As he greets your neck with a kiss, you lean and whisper into his soft ears about wanting to ‘share some’ with him. Since Sett has an uncontrollably tendency to go over-board with anything portion related, he’s more than willing to help you out. He understands you can't finish most things by yourself. Especially if he's the one serving you.

You huff with an embarrassed whine, shaking your head. You weren't talking about the food! 

Sett finally catches on by the squeezing of your legs around him, the flush of your cheeks, and the hot puffs you tow against his twitching ears. He hums a low and warm grumble at the insinuation. That large hand cradling your bottom squeezes in all the right places. It's enough to elicit a satisfied cry from your lips.

Sett really didn’t come home empty handed. In more ways than one.

YONE

home cooked meal and water

Yone was an expert and perfectionist—especially in the kitchen. Why would he buy you anything processed and unhealthy when he could make anything you desired? He wasn’t going to tolerate you poisoning yourself. Not on his watch. 

Insisting on cooking for you, you watched at how meticulous he was in the kitchen. His expertise with a knife was incomparable. You never realized chopping vegetables could be a discipline and an art form.

When he finished garnishing the plate, he served you. If you didn’t know any better, you would think the dish came straight from a Michelin five-star restaurant!

Not allowing it cool, you burned your tongue on your first bite. Yone chastised you (one of his ways of showing affection) before taking the next helping, and blowing away the steam. He raised the fork to your lips.

Yone was always cool, calm, and collected—but would then do things that were heart-pounding, sweet and seductive. You felt silly with embarrassment. You shook your head, declining his help.

Unacceptable. Yone took your chin without a word, pressed his lips against yours, and slipped a tongue to open your mouth. When you gasped a moan, he abandoned your mouth, and placed the food inside. He encouraged you to chew thoroughly, but all you wanted to do was collapse.

Yone was definitely an expert and perfectionist—at driving you absolutely mad about him.

K'SANTE

take-out and bottle of wine

K’Sante was never about the ‘Netflix and chill’ thing. More like the ‘Netflix and serve my Queen’ scene. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

Knowing your favorite restaurant, he orders express delivery and pops the cork off of a pricey bottle of wine.

K’Sante has everything ready for the night. Lights dimmed, scented candles lit, and Netflix show ready to go at the press of a button. 

Like the Casanova he is, he serves you everything first. All the while showering you with compliments about how beautiful you are. K’Sante isn’t ashamed of expressing himself to what he likes—which is obviously you. 

After eating and having your fill of wine, you relax further into the couch with him. All the while, watching your shared guilty-pleasure reality TV-show; 'Too Hot To Handle'

The wine seems to get the better of you two. Spooning you from behind, you turn over a cheek expecting to see K’Sante watching the TV. Far from it—his lustrous gaze is on you. He graciously takes your mouth. Slow and passionate. And you can taste the spice of the wine. 

With eyes closed, you feel his trained hand slide across your waist, and slip between your thighs.

K’Sante wasn’t done serving his Queen. And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

[galoogamelady]

I need to tell you how bad ur art style inspires me like i literally need to eat it, im rapidly approaching with a knife and fork

the bullying never stops

[paperultra]

he makes you pancakes in the morning.

there's three of them, stacked upon each other, golden and thick and fluffy with butter in between and whipped cream on top and amber syrup dripping down the sides, pooling underneath halves of fresh strawberries. it's a piece of art, really. you worry that you might tip it over and waste all of his effort.

the bed dips as he sits on the edge of it. sanji smiles at you, eyes sweet and bright blue in the morning light, and when you glance at his clothes you can still see the haste of powdered sugar dusted upon them.

your heart swells as you pick up the knife and fork.

idle chatter fills the small room like the aroma of vanilla, soft and warm, while you share your breakfast. sanji does this often with you, food and conversation; at one point, you had thought that the former was merely an excuse for the latter, but you have since learned that the two are inextricably linked. he's happiest when people eat. it's his love, oceans wide and oceans deep, in its purest form.

when the plate is empty, he takes the tray from you, and you rise with it and walk with him to the kitchen despite his protests. seconds are obviously in order, you explain, because he had half of your firsts. you'll have to share three more to break even.

he laughs. whatever you like, he tells you as your feet hit the bottom of the stairs. how about we make them together?

(together, for the rest of your life, if you want. every morning, every moment of the day, seconds, thirds, fourths. everything he has and then some until you never want for anything again.)

let's do that, you agree.

you feel very loved, indeed.

[manicplank]

Ways The Noise Has Died

I have a headcanon that The Noise can die and respawn. (He's cursed, but sometimes he takes advantage of it.) These are just some of the ways he's died. He does a lot of stupid shit.

Hit by car: 3

Lung cancer: 2

Throat cancer: 1

Fallen from building/height: 2

Shot by police: 7

Drowned: 1

Execution by electric chair: 1

Eaten by alligators: 2

Smashed by piano: 2

Killed by Peppino: 15

Heart attack: 3

Diabetes: 3

Fire/burns: 5

Explosion: 22

Spontaneous combustion: 4

Eaten by shark: 1

Poisoned: 1

Internal bleeding: 2

Septic shock: 2

Execution by guillotine: 2

Bleeding out: 4

Head trauma: 5

Forgot to breathe: 18

Killed by Toppin Monster: 3

Mauled by bear: 1

Ate something inedible: 6

Forgot to eat (starved): 3

Alcohol poisoning: 6

Dehydration: 3

Eaten by tigers: 1

Strangled by Pizzahead: 2

Stung by bees: 1

Run over by boulder: 1

Struck by lightning: 2

Led poisoning: 2

Ate paint: 3

EDIT from replies:

Killed by Noisette: 1

Radiation exposure: 2

Choke on food: 12

Organ failure: 7

Froze to death: 1

Allergies: 3

Land mine testing: 2

Food poisoning: 28

Jetpack failure: 6

Sucked into black hole: 1

Inhaling carcinogenic gaz: 7

Talking back to his mama: 1

Banished into the shadow realm: 2

Dark magic spell failure: 4

Touching electric plug with a fork: 5

Stunt failure: 35

Edit from replies 2:

Got skewered in a magic trick gone wrong: 11

Got caught in a mousetrap: 6

Rat poison: 25

Burned alive: 4

(Feel free to suggest ways he's died. Silly little bastard is always up to no good.)

Hit by a train: 2

EDIT by replies 3:

Washed out to sea: 4

Battle with Doise: 1

Fallen into volcano: 7

Mocked Pepperman’s art: 3

Sucked into tornado: 3

Kicked by cow: 1

Crushed by his crusher: 4

Ate Fake Peppino’s food: 2

Slipped on banana peel: 18

Rabies: 4

Pissed off Dougie Jones: 1

Shot by alien raygun: 3

Crushed by tree: 1

Buried alive: 3

Shot by Vigilante: 2

Knife juggling: 4

challenged God to smite him: 1

Fallen into bottomless pit: 7

Eaten by piranhas: 3

Bitten by zombie: 1

Air balloon crash: 5

Tried to light his fart on fire (gone wrong): 1

[dungeon-strugglers]

✨New item!✨ Cannibal’s Cutlery Wondrous item, uncommon

You can extract knowledge from the food you eat while using this cutlery. As an action while eating the flesh of a creature, you can telepathically ask the creature one question as if you cast the speak with dead spell. The response appears visually and audibly in your mind. This property can only be used to extract information from a creature once. Additionally, you have advantage on any check to deduce knowledge about a creature’s lived experience whose flesh you have consumed.

Curse. If you eat the flesh of a humanoid with this cutlery, you become cursed with an insatiable hunger for humanoid meat. You gain one level of exhaustion for every 3 days that pass without eating humanoid meat. This exhaustion can only be removed by eating 1 lb of humanoid flesh, which removes all levels of exhaustion. If this curse is lifted, the exhaustion is removed as well.

The handles of this fork and knife were shaped from the bones of a ghoul, the steel components were smelted from iron extracted entirely from human blood, and the set was enchanted with the power of the gobblers, vulture-like beings that extract knowledge from the dead by consuming their flesh. - 🖌🎨 Like our work? Consider supporting us on Patreon and gain access to the hi-resolution art for over 180 magic items, item cards and card packs, beautiful creature art and stat blocks, and setting pdfs with narrative hooks and unique lore!🧙‍♂️ Thank you so much for your support! 💖

📜 Credit. Art and design by us: the Dungeon Strugglers. Please credit us if you repost elsewhere.

[mybutcheredtongue]

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

post azkaban sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (see full series list here)

1993

A man stands in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, hidden away behind the shadow of a black travelling coat. Every head in the Hall turns to him, a great crackle of lightning forking across the enchanted ceiling. The man lowers his hood and shakes out a man of long, grizzled, dark grey hair and makes his way up to your table.

The loud, dull clunk of a wooden leg echoes throughout the silent Hall with every step he takes, and your ears prick with the recognition of that clunk — you've heard that clunk before...many times before.

He makes it to your table, lightning flashing and illuminating the man's face. The skin of his face is scarred and looks rough to the touch. There's a large chunk of his nose missing, his mouth is thin and his lips are cracked. But nothing compares to his eyes — the most unsettling part about him.

One is small, dark, and beady. Dark like the depths of the Black Lake. The other is quite the opposite — as large as a coin, the iris a startling, vivid blue. It's encased within an eye patch, held on by straps of leather. The blue eyes moves without reason, spinning and twirling in its socket without blinking. And though the glass eye makes most look away from squeamishness, you give a little smile. You're well used to that eye by now, that skin, that clunk, that man.

It's the face of your old mentor, Alastor Moody.

Or, as he's more widely known...

Mad-Eye Moody.

Moody sits down at the table, shaking his man of grizzly hair. He pulls a small knife out his pocket, pulls a plate of sausages towards him, and spears one on the end of the knife before eating it.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore says brightly into the stunned silence. "Professor Moody."

Usually, the Hall erupts into applause from both the staff and teachers. However, tonight, it's only you, Dumbledore, and Hagrid that clap. Mad-Eye's not that bad, really, you just have to get used to him. He's a sweetheart!

Okay, that's a total lie.

But you do really just have to get used to his... peculiarities. Everyone'll be well adjusted to him by the end of the year, you're sure.

Moody doesn't seem to care about his unwelcome welcome, instead pulling a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig from it. Well, that's something he's always done — carry his own personal flask to drink out of.

"Constant vigilance!" He'd told you. "You'll never know if what's in front of you has been poisoned or not!"

Dumbledore clears his throat. "As I was saying," he says, smiling out at the crowd of gaping students, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that hasn't been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred Weasley exclaims loudly.

The tension that had been thickening ever since Moody's arrival breaks as nearly everyone bursts into laughter at Fred.

Dumbledore chuckles appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr Weasley...though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Minerva clears her throat loudly from beside you.

"Er — but maybe this is not the time...no..." says Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what the tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

Of course, as a member of staff, you've already been well briefed on the tournament and what's involved. You've heard it all before, and as per his instruction, you allow your attention to wander.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

You trek down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, clutching a letter addressed to Remus in your hand. You dread having to walk back up all those stairs for your last class of the day in an hour. A few students are milling about the corridors, a few chatting amicably while others complain about the homework they've already gotten on the first day back.

You round a corner, glancing at the oil paintings on the wall next to you. Then, you start to hear the sound of a dull clunk echoing down the hallway, and Moody appears, hobbling towards you. His glass eye is swivelling erratically in its socket, but his good eye isn't looking at you.

"Oh, sir!"

When you were training to be an Auror — which you never got to finish — you always addressed Moody as sir. Never Mad-Eye, never Alastor. And when you were talking about him with somebody else, you always said Moody. His character demands respect and you don't hesitate to give it.

But this is different. Now, you're proper colleagues. It's a bit strange, like adjusting to working alongside Minerva when you first started here. Hopefully you'll adjust to his presence just as easily as Minerva's.

Moody flinches when he hears you call out, head snapping to you, regular eye fixating on you.

You give him a hesitant smile, nodding at him. "It's — uh — it's been a while, sir. It's good to see you again."

Something flashes in his good eye — recognition. His glass eye spins and looks at you, scrutinizing you silently. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up under that interrogating eye.

It's a while before he answers.

"Yes."

"I know this probably isn't the field you expected me to go into — but you know, after everything..." You chuckle awkwardly, shrugging. You immediately curse yourself for that — that chuckle would have instantly gotten you reprimanded during your training.

"It's unconfident!" he'd said. "You're letting your guard down, appearing vulnerable. Do you want your enemies to think you're an easy target?"

But now, Moody doesn't comment on it. He barely even seems to register it.

"Right," he says curtly, before continuing on his way, hobbling down the corridor. You turn and stare after him, mouth agape at his coldness. You thought you had bonded during your time together, that he thought of you as a good student. And you really looked up to him too, you still do. But he disregarded you like it was nothing...like he forgot who you were.

As you stare after him, he pulls his flask out of his pocket and takes a swig from it, grimacing. He glances back over his shoulder and catches you staring. You quickly turn around and continue towards the owlery, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

Reuniting with your old mentor? Check!

Did it go well? Nope!

How embarrassing.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

It's Thursday evening, and you sit in your office, reading Astronomy's Articles. The fireplace crackles in the corner, radiating warmth throughout the room. There's quite an interesting piece here on how old astronomical teachings influenced pop culture, and you're nearly finished it when there's a weak knock at the door. At first you think you might've imagined it, but the knock comes again, slightly louder this time.

You go over to open it, revealing Neville Longbottom, who is currently staring down at his shoes. In his hands, you spot a heavy book. He's shaking.

"Neville, dear, what's wrong?" You ask gently, concern obvious in your voice.

"C — can I please come in?" The poor boy's voice is no louder than a whisper. You nod wordlessly, opening the door further for him to come in and then closing it softly behind him.

"Sit down there, Neville, and a take a deep breath," you say kindly. You grab a jug and fill it with water, placing it on your desk with a glass for him. You pull all your papers out of the way and he sits down.

You sit down at your chair, looking across at him encouragingly. You don't say anything, just wait for him to start himself. While he's quiet, you take a look at the book in his hands, titled: Magical Mediterranean Water-Plants and Their Properties.

"I — I don't want to bother you, Professor."

You shake your head. "Neville, you could never bother me. Please, tell me. What happened?"

He doesn't meet your eyes, hands fiddling with the book.

"I just...Professor, when my parents...when they...did they really go through all that p-pain?" he asks shakily.

You're highly taken aback by this. What is he doing asking something like that? The answer will only hurt him further.

"Oh, Neville, what brings this on?"

He doesn't answer you for a moment, looking down at the cover of his book.

"Professor Moody...he — he showed it to me," he responds quietly, like he's telling a big secret.

"Showed what to you?" You're almost reluctant to hear the answer. Something heavy settles in your stomach sickeningly.

The office is silent as Neville breathes heavily. He fiddles with the book again, bounces his leg. It's like you can hear every blink of his eyes, every individual lash brushing against his under-eye. What would Alice say if she seen him like this? She'd be devastated, no doubt. You're here to look after him. Harry and Neville. Both lost their parents, parents who were your best friends. You could never sit by and watch as their sons sit in turmoil, battling something extremely difficult.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Neville breathes.

You blink in confusion. "I'm sorry, what do you mean he showed you the Cruciatus Curse?"

"O-on a spider," he says quietly. "He-he pointed his wand at it and said — "

"Crucio," you whisper, horrified. "Why would he do that?"

You're confused and shocked and horrified. Moody really did that? In front of the students? In front of Neville? He knows exactly who Neville is, he knows exactly who his parents were and what happened to them.

"He — he said we needed to know. That we n-needed to see it to know how to defend it."

You bring your hands up to your face. You've seen the curse performed before, when you were helping Moody track down a dark wizard who'd taken a Muggle hostage, and nothing about it is pretty. It's scarring — it's the kind of thing that lodges itself in your mind, and the image never weakens. The sounds never fade.

Neville hasn't stopped trembling since he walked in here.

"Neville..." you bite your lip, unsure what to say, so you do the only thing you think you can: you stand up from your chair, and hug him. You pull the frail boy into your arms, gently stroking his hair soothingly. You're conscious of the fact that really, Neville's only maternal figure in his life has been his grandmother who — while being a formidable, strong woman — can't hold a candle to the warmth that Alice had. The heart of gold and love that she had — that she still has, somewhere — for her son. He needs you to provide that warmth and support now.

He pulls away to talk again. "My parents...do you think they suffered...? "

"They did, Neville," you say, pulling away but leaving your hands on his shoulders. "They suffered. I'm afraid I can't tell you any different."

Neville's eyes begin to water and he doesn't meet your eyes.

"But," you continue softly, "they were brave, Neville. They were so brave and strong and stood their ground. Anyone else would have ran, fled with their tails between their legs, but not your parents, Neville. And — the people who hurt your parents? They're all in jail. Rotting away in Azkaban, which is an awful fate. Perfectly deserved for the horrible scum that did that to Alice and Frank."

Neville nods slowly, taking a shaky breath. He sits for a few moments, quiet, as he thinks over what you said. Eventually, you feel confident that he looks a bit less shaken, colour returning to his face. He stands up and you give him a sympathetic smile.

"Would you like to stay here for a little longer?" you ask softly, and he shakes his head.

"No, it's okay...I'll get going now."

You nod, patting his shoulder and moving to open the door for him. "Alright." He exits and you follow, locking the door behind you. When he looks back at you in slight confusion, you say, "I'd like to go have a word with Professor Moody."

Moody's office isn't too far from yours. Neville departs off towards the Gryffindor Tower, the time nearing curfew. You knock on the door, waiting impatiently for the door to open. Eventually, you hear hobbling behind the door and it opens a crack.

"Sir!"

You can only see the blue eye, spinning rapidly in its socket. He looks you up and down, scrutinising you.

"What?"

"Look, I just talked to one of your fourth-year students. Is it true you showed them the Cruciatus Curse? That you performed it on a spider?"

Part of you is scared. This is you, standing up to the best, strongest Auror you've ever met. Your mentor. But at the same time you're filled with anger. How could he do that? How could he put that on Neville, and all those other students who had to bear witness to that torture?

Moody doesn't answer. His tongue darts out of his mouth to lick at his lips for just a second, before receding back. That's something you don't think you've seen Moody do before. No, you've definitely not seen him do that.

But you recognise it. You definitely remember being grossed out before by that exact move. He must've just caught it from someone else, after all, they do call him Mad-Eye. He has been known to be somewhat far-gone.

"I'll admit it was an unorthodox way of teaching, but they needed to see it," he answers curtly. "They need to see in order to know how to defend it and resist!"

You shake your head furiously. "There are other ways to show them how to defend themselves! You can't do that. They're children, sir. They shouldn't be coming out of class half traumatised!"

He pulls the door open more, revealing his cracked face. His good eye stares daggers at you and he moves forward, forcing you to take a step back. He leers over you threateningly.

"Don't question me, girl."

You stare back at him, searching his face for any sliver of a joke, but are met with the hard, steel expression of a man who is certainly not joking. The Moody you know would never say that to you. He would never use that threatening tone with you, no matter what you did. Constructive criticism, yeah, a bit of frustration, yeah, but not this. You've never had to feel scared in his presence.

But you do now.

You're suddenly aware of the fact that this is a strong, strong man in front of you. You would never be able to fight him off. Your lip trembles, and embarrassingly, you feel your eyes start to water.

This was your mentor. This was someone who you looked up to so much, and now he's looking at you like some scummy substance he found on the bottom of his boot. You feel hurt. You feel so badly hurt and embarrassed and scared.

Moody continues to stare you down, before grunting and doing that janky tongue movement and slamming his door shut in your face. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, and stare at the closed door in front of you.

What do you do? Should you tell someone? None of the other teachers know about that class, otherwise something would have been said. Minerva would already have been banging on your door to talk about it.

Is it worth your while even reporting it? You doubt anyone would care. It's Alastor Moody, famed Auror. Who would they really rather support: you or him? You don't stand a chance against him.

You return to your office that night feeling sick to your stomach. Worries churn your stomach sickeningly and quiet tears drip down your cheeks. You're just so confused. Why would Moody do that to you? He never expressed any dislike for you before, but there it was obvious. You feel so foolish for allowing yourself to think the Mad-Eye Moody cared about you at all.

You feel lonely. You start to just want Sirius here, next to you, so you can talk to him. He always knows what to do. He always knows what to say. You want him to be here and to take you in his arms, stroke your hair soothingly, reassure you.

You just want him here.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

Spring, 1980

Bright, cheerful chatter fills the area, guests milling about and laughter bubbling up out their throats. Beside you, Sirius has his hand on your knee, circling it idly with his thumb as he chats to James beside him. James tells a joke and Sirius lets out a hearty laugh. You watch his face light up in joy, a beautiful smile spreading over his face.

He's so handsome.

His long locks just tickling his neck, the shirt of his suit unbuttoned to show the skin of his chest, his jacket shrugged off and thrown on the back of the chair. The sunlight catches his long lashes, the outline of his face, making him look like something out of a dream.

You glance around at the guests, thinking about what to do next. You take a quick sip from your wine and lean over to Sirius.

"I'm going to go mingle," you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He stops talking, turning to you with a loving expression.

"Don't be too long," he says. "I want my wife back as soon as possible."

He kisses your lips softly, smiling, and you pull away to go mingle.

You make a beeline for Alice and Lily immediately, who are chatting animatedly with Remus and Peter.

"Hello, hello!" You greet with a grin and they all smile.

"Well, if it isn't the beautiful bride!" Alice exclaims with a laugh.

Everyone looks absolutely perfect. Alice and Lily in their pretty bridesmaid dresses, Remus and Peter in their groomsmen suits. It's a small enough reception, you could never invite too many with the way things are right now. There are a few Aurors and Order of the Phoenix members dotted around, some looking about the place like they're expecting an attack.

"Where's Frank gone?" You ask Alice. It's rare to see Alice without her dear husband, her husband of two months now. Even now, you can see the way her face lights up at the mention of him.

"Oh, he's just gone to get us some drinks," she says with a smile, looking past you to see a man standing at the drinks table, plucking two glasses out of the lineup and turning around to come towards you.

You throw him a small wave, and he nods back because his hands are full. Beyond him, you catch sight of a man you didn't actually expect to see tonight: Alastor Moody. He's standing beneath a large tree, shaded from the sun by its foliage. He's looking around him suspiciously, like he's afraid someone's going to spot him.

You place a hand on Alice's back, patting it as you say, "I've just spotted someone. If I don't see you leading a conga line when I get back I'll be livid."

She giggles, saluting you jokingly. "Yes, ma'am."

You smile at the group, taking your leave and heading for Moody. He looks up when you approach, his good eye settling on you while the other dances in its socket.

"Sir, you came," you say with a smile. You really are shocked that he actually showed up. You gave him his invitation ages ago, and hadn't mentioned it since. He said nothing of any intentions to come to the wedding.

He nods, glancing around himself furtively like he doesn't want anyone to catch him here. "Yes, well...I'm here just in case something happens of course... in case you have a few unwelcome guests."

"What, like you?" You joke, and you can see how he tries to hide his chuckle, shaking his head gruffly.

"Dark wizards, more like."

He doesn't seem entirely certain of that, however. You can tell that he's not just here for that, but you don't say anything. You're just happy he's here. Nobody would attack your wedding. Maybe because there's Order members here, but something tells you that won't happen. You have such a happy gut feeling, you feel like you're on air today. Nothing could ruin it.

"Well, thank you for coming," you say genuinely. "I really appreciate it."

He glances away from you, seemingly fixating on something in the distance. "I can't have you getting attacked on your wedding day. It would make for a pretty shitty story."

You smile. "Thanks."

You stand together in silence. You glance out at the rest of the party: Alice is, as you instructed, leading a long conga line on the makeshift dance floor, now bathed in evening sunlight. You spot Sirius right behind her, enthusiastically throwing out his leg in time with Alice. You chuckle appreciatively at them.

"You know," Moody starts, and you turn back to him, "when they told me I'd have to take on a student, I thought they'd be a nuisance, getting in the way of my work. But you, I am...I'm glad it was you, and not some clueless thing who doesn't know their left from their right. You're good at this, and you'll be even better when you're finished with me."

Your mouth opens dumbly and you just stare back at him in surprise, before a great big smile spreads over your face. You don't want to say anything to embarrass yourself, so you just smile at him and he looks away, clearing his throat.

"Once you stop giving me cheek, that is," he adds.

You can't help but laugh, before he fixes you with a look and you straighten up again, pursing your lips, holding back any comments.

"Now, it's time you stop bothering me and go back off to the lovesick lad you've left behind," he says, nodding his head in Sirius' direction, who has detached himself from the conga line to beckon you over with a longing gaze. You smile back at him and don't hesitate to hurry towards the fun.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated ♡

hugs and kisses to all my taglist loves for all their kindness and support:

@wholelottalove05 @izuoyarmin @hyperspeedo @carpe000diem @jennifer0305 @idkman5335

[cymk8]

Love your karlach and shadowheart art <3 do you have any headcannons about their relationship? Specific details on what their dynamic might be like? Who holds the boombox outside the other's window?

Sits down, cracks my knuckles: FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK

A Few Things: (I say this but.......LOLLL)

The art I drew is the first time they met, at a match where she was performing half-time; (she did not, in fact, give her a chance)

They met again at an ungodly hour at the same rink - Shadowheart bc her coach gave her the keys to practice whenever she wants...and Karlach's family owns the actual rink

Shadowheart was recovering from an injury then, so you can imagine how short her fuse would have been

Karlach is the most laid-back of the two; she often excels in things no one could have anticipated, which pisses Shadowheart off to the hells and back (i.e. Karlach can make the world's best omelet and Shadowheart's eggs look like roadkill)

Both of them are freakishly competitive. Anything is fair game - even after their relationship turned friendly; pranks galore

Shadowheart eats burgers with a fork and knife; Karlach is forever mortified

Karlach likes to dip her fries in milkshakes; Shadowheart is forever mortified

Neither of them holds the boombox to the window - Karlach sleeps like a log and Shadowheart sleeps with earplugs and black-out curtains

They do, however, enjoy doing grand and cheesy gestures of affection - but only because they get a kick out of embarrassing the other; it escalates very quickly

Shadowheart and Astarion are figure skating buddies (and have done some pair skating together!) and often talk smack about the other skaters or about goings on in the rink; he absolutely gets on Shadowheart's case for being in denial of any and all attraction to the 'Annoying Big Buff Tiefling'

Karlach has the energy of one of those laid-back emperor penguins from Surf's Up; Shadowheart is an angry little trumpeter swan cygnet

I have so much more I am constantly vibrating thank you for coming to my ted talk -

[doodledrawsthings]

i need to eat all of your art with a fork and knife like a distinguished bot. and then when you least expect it, rip into the leftovers like a rat in new york. its so wonderful

Thank you 💖

Bone app the teeth 👩🏻‍🍳