#hell yeah a new wizard thing?

[talatalatalatala]

A Scab Wizard student enrolled at the @wizardraziw academy who definitely has ethical ideas for how to use its magic. There is nothing to worry about, stop asking about its body part collection.

[strigital]

🪄✨

got to run around Hogwarts Legacy for approx. 8 lvls and so far I've very successfully fallen victim to Sebastian and Ominis's charms, MC's cootie-patootiedness and the overall magical school audio-visual feast for the autistic creature inside my brain. Anyways here's my shy on the outside menace on the inside Gryffindor half-blood who grew up in a workhouse in Whitechapel as Ellie Fairchild and was educated for domestic service, but then discovered her magic by making her latest employer's kitchen explode and after getting a scar on her face and turning her hair grey, spent a few years in Wales with her witch aunt and Professor Fig, then ventured to Hogwarts, now under her real name of Elowen Pendragon (listen, i just love the Arthurian legend way too much ok? tho not as much as i utterly enjoy victorian era and everything to do with it (bless Dr. Ruth Goodman for her bombastic book on the subject!!).

[emiko-matsui]

Okay, I just need to get something out of the way when it comes to the Kipperlilly conversation nobody's brought up yet, which I think is insane. Almost all of The Bad Kids would be more powerful if they didn't have their tragedy porn tragic backstories.

First of all, this doesn't apply to Fig and Gorgug because if Fig wasn't Gorthalax's child she would be a lot like Kipperlilly and not the ruler of hell. I wouldn't say Gorgug has a tragic backstory, he's got a pretty normal growing up experience with ups and downs.

Let's start with her #1 nemesis, Riz Gukgak. She's so jealous that his dad was murdered and that gives him an advantage in the adventuring life. To be crude, no, it doesn't. What would give Riz an advantage in the adventuring life would be living with someone who has a direct contact to all the government's inner workings and conspiracies. Now that would be an advantage. That gives you connections and clues that no one else can get. This is not what happened. What happened was eating cereal with water for breakfast, what happened was not getting an opportunity at college, what happened was a 9 year old who stopped sleeping, what happened was not your secret agent dad giving you an advantage in the school conspiracy because he's dead. Otherwise he fucking would've.

And now Kipperlilly's new #1 nemesis, Kristen Applebees. She was ostracised from her religion for her sexuality, she achieved sainthood, and raised a dead god back to life. None of this would've happened if she hadn't been raised in The Harvestmen. No, it wouldn't, but what would have happened if Kristen had been straight? Disgusting thought, yes, I know, but let's talk about it. A Kristen who never left Helio behind would have so many more fucking advantages than the one with Cassandra has. If she had followed her birthright she would be the only chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods. Sol is the biggest god in Spyre and Helio is his son. Helio does not have a chosen one anymore because Kristen left. It's not a title that's just given out, it could only have been Kristen. You know what's an advantage? Being the chosen one of one of the world's most powerful gods, being a god's spoken favourite, and deified by all of that god's followers. Now that would be an unfair advantage. You know what's not an advantage? Being homeless at 14 and being at the mercy of your ex-girlfriend's uncle for housing, dying and having absolutely no one there for you so you're only option to survive is to trust your own abilities enough to raise yourself from the dead, and failing school because of biased teachers.

And what of Adaine Abernant? The Elven Oracle? Her tragedy porn tragic backstory is surviving an abusive home. Now I just have to imagine that Adaine would have it a lot easier than most students, an incredible amount of unfair advantages, if her old money parents paid for every wizard whim she wanted, kept her diplomatic immunity so she could do literally anything she wanted without consequences, and gave her a direct contact into the heart of the Fallinell government. Now that is what I would call an insane amount of unfair advantage. I would be furious at this rich kid who's never had to work for anything myself. This is not even close to the case. She's barely passing classes because she can't afford the material you're required, she goes to the guidance counsellor for panic attacks, and she's being hunted by her home government. I'd say that's about every single thing in her life working against her having it easy.

Fabian Aramais Seacaster. He's complicated since he is very privileged already. He gets 5000 gold a month just for existing. He's the captain of the Owlbears because he killed the previous one. He lives alone in a mansion. Yeah, that's pretty privileged. His parents are also so severely fucked up that if they hadn't been filthy rich they would've been absolutely horrible for him. If he had parents who unconditionally supported him and stayed with him through everything, then we could talk about perhaps the most powerful person in Elmville. In Solace possibly. The most feared pirate in history who single-handedly dismantled a monarchy and fights against armies on his own is at your beck and call, does whatever you ask him to, and loves you more than anything. The greatest swordswoman in the world, that bested the most feared pirate in the world, the daughter of one of the most influential elven families and immortal will do anything you ask her, loves you to bits, and would cheat any rules for you. To have that would just be insane. You can argue that Fabian already has unfair advantages because of his social status and inheritance. This is true, but this is also true within his own adventuring party. Now his parents aren't helping him with anything and are determined that he reach his legendary status on his own. Otherwise talk about a fucking advantage.

All this to say is that if Kipperlilly got all of The Bad Kids tragedy porn like she wanted she wouldn't have been better, but she would've made them better. There is an adventuring party out there in the multiverse that has a secret agent at their disposal, the only chosen one of a Sol religion, Bill Seacaster and Hallariel Lomenelda unprompted in their corner, and a seer with unending resources and diplomatic immunity. These would've been people you start a platform about adventuring not being fair for everyone because of. The people you went against was a homeless kid, a kid with an anxiety disorder, a trust fund kid, and someone with PTSD.

I've seen your posts about Kipperlilly being wrong for her validation, but right in the fact that The Bad Kids have been given larger plots and mysteries because of their families and circumstances and I don’t want to fucking see another one. When you make that I want you to think about the adventuring party they would've been without their backstories. The insanely powerful and privileged adventuring party that almost happened. Their life got made worse, not easier because their life could have been so fucking easy. Kipperlilly can take all the tragedy porn she wants and then maybe realise that that's not what makes the adventurer. That the reason she's mad at The Bad Kids is the only reason she can even tangentially compete with them.

[suugarbabe]

magical creatures | m.r. x reader

prompt: may i suggest hufflepuff!reader, or just shy reader who often hangs around by herself or at hagrids hut helping w the magical creatures. yknow the type of person who no one notices is in class cuz she’s so quiet and he’s like,, enamored lowkey bc she’s so gorgiana but so shy. maybe draco calling her a mudblood and matty’s like abt to get in a fight w his own cousin bc of it.

word count: ~2.1k

warning: fluff

an: the end is a little shite, but the rest is good so bare with me.

It was both a blessing and a curse to see thestrals. They were very unique magical creatures in that only those who have seen death can see them. It makes sense, given their appearance. The black skin, the skeletal body, the reptilian face and the wide leather wings. To the unknowing wizard, the animal looked like it came straight from muggle hell. Historically, it was an omen of misfortune to see one, but they were protected on school grounds and oddly enough, they gave you comfort. 

You often found yourself out in this part of the forest after you had a particularly hard day. Hagrid was always kind enough to give you some raw meat to feed them, and this was the first day you could see the new foal since she was born. You tossed a portion of meat its way, the foal slowly coming up to sniff it. Once it had a taste, it came up to you, sniffing your bag and begging for more. 

You laughed at its enthusiasm, gently petting its neck, “You’re just trying to find your way, aren’tcha bub. That’s okay, me too. This world is hard, but you’ve got your mummy here, she’ll protect you.”

A snapping of twigs made you freeze. No one came to this part of the woods, no one but you and Hagrid, and he was going to be gone for another few hours. You stood up slowly, taking your wand from your jacket pocket. 

You held it tight to your side, trying your best to make your voice sound intimidating, “W-who’s there?”

A boy slowly crept out from behind a tree, his hands up in a surrendering position, “Don’t stupify me, please. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Your grip on your wand loosened slightly, but to say you were confused was an understatement, “Riddle? What’re you doing out here?” 

“Could ask you the same thing. What’s a badger like you doing out in the forest?” He wore his infamous smirk, and you weren’t sure if he was trying to be charming, or getting ready to bully you. The lot he hung around, was the leader of more like, made it tough to decipher his motives at times. 

“I was just…feeding the new foal,” you gestured towards the creatures behind you. 

He looked at you curiously, “You can see them, too?” 

You stood up a little straighter, “Yes, Mattheo. I can see them. Slytherin’s aren’t the only ones who can come from a tragic past.” 

Mattheo chuckled at this, “Okay, fair point.”

You looked at him curiously, “What're you doing out here?” 

He smiled sheepishly now, “I was watching you.” You raised your eyebrows at this.

“Not in a creepy way!” He tried to assure you, hands straight out in front of him. “I just, I’ve been noticing you.”

“You’ve been noticing me?” 

“Yeah, I mean. You’re…nice to look at. And you’re…cute when you’re with animals.” His cheeks tinted pink at the confession. 

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, definitely not expecting that from him. You offered him something to feed the foal and he quickly accepted. You watched at he knelt down to the ground, hand extended as the foal slowly walked up to him. 

He spoke in a hushed tone, “S’alright, mate, I won’t bite.” You smiled at the scene before you, rough and tough Mattheo Riddle being soft and gentle. He stayed with you in the forest for another hour or so, both of you getting lost in conversation. 

He had offered to walk you back to the castle, but you insisted on needing to stop by Hagrid’s before dinner, encouraging him to go on without you. 

After that first encounter in the forest, you expected yours and Mattheo’s relationship to go back to the way it was, which was nonexistent. But the next day, when he saw you in the hall’s he ran up to you, quickly falling into step to ask you how your day was going and if you planned on “feeding any strange animals after classes”. He started doing that often, finding you in the hall or after class, asking when you were going to visit some magical creature and asking if he could tag along.

He found himself fond of how soft you were with them, no matter how rough the creature seemed. He would tell you about the grindylows he could see from his dorm window, and the way your eyes lit up made him wish he could take you there and show you himself, just to see your smile take up your whole face again. 

He had made a vow to himself to never subject you to the ridicule you would get if he brought you to the Slytherin dorm. Not because you were a hufflepuff, but because of your blood status. 

As a half-blood he knows that most Slytherins would look at you like a roast to feast on and their utensils would be harsh words and hexes. Over the last several weeks he found himself growing protective over you. 

Around you he didn’t have to put on a mean face, didn’t have to act tough, he could let his guard down. The Mattheo you knew was not the Mattheo that everyone else saw. Where others saw brooding and flying fists, you saw gentle touches and whispers. 

You never expected you would ever call Mattheo a friend, but it seemed that’s what he became. Where you were once invisible in classes, you found Mattheo staring at you. When you were always able to slip past your peers in the corridor, his hands always found you, pulling you to his side. 

You weren’t naive, you knew the looks you were getting, but with Mattheo near you, you just couldn’t find it in yourself to care. At least that’s how you thought you felt, until you found yourself being dragged by said boy to the Slytherin table for lunch one afternoon. 

“Mattheo, no, there’s no way,” you really thought he had lost his mind. 

“Oh c’mon, darling, it’ll be fine. We’ll sit at the end or something. I just wanna have lunch with you, pretty pretty please?” He was batting his eyelashes at you. His stupid, dumb, long and beautiful eyelashes and looking at you with the most pleading amber eyes. 

You huffed out a long sigh and Mattheo cheered silently in victory, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to the table. 

You sat down across from him, listening to him ramble about his latest potions assignment as you filled your plate. The longer he talked and joked the more relaxed you felt. It seemed like it was not going to be as bad as you had made it out to be, until a head of bleach blonde came into view. 

“Ya lost, badger?” Pansy Parkinson thought she was clever, but in reality she was just the same as a lap dog, following Draco around like a pathetic lovesick puppy. 

You shook your head no, looking down at your plate. “Fuck off, Parkinson,” Mattheo’s harsh words head your head snapping up to watch the scene that was unfolding in front of you. 

Draco tsked, “Oh cousin, ran through the lot of Slytherin women already? Needed to find yourself a little mudblood to entertain you?”

Mattheo was up so quickly it seemed like your eyes had glitched. The smirk was immediately gone from Draco’s face as Mattheo gripped the collar of his robes, teeth gritted as he spoke to him, “Don’t use that bloody fucking language around her, you understand me?” 

If looks could kill Draco’s funeral would’ve been yesterday. He seemed to understand how serious Mattheo was because the most he answered was a grumbled ‘yes’ before brushing his robes off and walking away, not even sparing you a second glance. 

When Mattheo turned back to you his eyes were full of remorse. You spoke before he got a chance, “S’okay, Teo. Let’s just go. We can feed the thestrals before curfew if we leave now.”

You started towards the doors, Mattheo quick to fall in step beside you. When you reached the top of the hill you stopped. Mattheo looked at you quizzically, “Y’alright, love?” You nodded your head, giving him the biggest grin before taking off running toward the forest. 

Mattheo stood frozen for a moment, in shock of how cheeky you were being before his brain caught up with him and he darted after you. 

“You know I’m captain of the quidditch team, love!” he shouted towards you. You shouted back over your shoulder, “Yeah, well you seem to be struggling without your broom, sir!” 

This bit of banter seemed to spur Mattheo further, his feet seemingly moving faster and getting closer and closer to you. You could sense him getting closer, and you could help the butterfly feeling that started to build in your chest. 

You reached your familiar spot, bracing yourself on a tree when you felt hand grab your waist and turn you to face him. “You cheated,” he was breathing heavy, but his tone was still playful. 

“I thought Slytherin’s were cunning, guess I was wrong,” you shrugged your shoulders, biting your bottom lip gently. 

He reached up, cupping your cheek. The pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip, dragging it down slightly. Your breath hitched slightly, watching as his eyes flicked from your lips meeting your eyes again. 

You stared into his eyes, wondering if what you think is going to happen is about to actually happen. 

“Can I…” he questions, trailing off tilting your chin up. You nod slightly, then his lips capture yours. It was tentative at first, like he was afraid if he kissed you any harder you’d disappear like a dream. 

He pulls back, breathing slightly heavy, giving you a silent look as if to ask, ‘is this okay?’ You press your lips back to his as an answer, with more passion this time. It’s wet and messy, tongues dancing as his hands caress the soft curves of your body, pressing you harder into the tree.

He bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth causing a whimper to leave your throat. You pull him back by his hair and he lets out a desperate huff. You start to kiss down his neck, finding his pulse point and sucking a fresh hickey to his otherwise flawless tan skin. 

You lean back, a smirk spreading on your face as you admire your work. “Proud of yourself, love?” Mattheo’s voice vibrates against your skin, his nose nudging playfully along your jawline. You nodded your head, “Very proud.” 

He was looking at you now, hands resting on your hips, but still pressing you into the tree slightly. His face had fallen ever so slightly, looking a little sadder than the moment called for. 

“I’m sorry for Draco earlier,” his tone was pained, like he was hurting just thinking about the earlier interaction. 

“S’okay, Teo. It’s not the first time someone’s said that to me. Honestly I don’t even think that’s the first time Draco has said it to me,” you laughed a little, but Mattheo could see it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He cupped your face again, thumb rubbing soothingly on your cheek, “He’s never going to call you that again, I’ll make sure of it. He should’ve never said that to you in the first place, or ever.”

You grabbed Mattheo’s face, holding it in your hands and making him keep eye contact with you, “Thank you for being so protective of me. It really does make me feel safer.” His cheeks were straining against your hands as he smiled. 

“Please, please understand that as long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter what other people say. Even your cousin, okay? And if he is ever ever mean to me again, which I think is likely. You have my full permission to transfigure him into a ferret again.” 

Mattheo laughed at this, a full hearty, deep laugh and you wanted to hear that laugh all the time. Wanted to bottle his joy and happiness and release it on your toughest days to bring you cheer. 

Mattheo followed you back to Hagrid’s hut, getting the supplies you needed to feed the thestrals. You watched as he played with the foal. He looked as carefree as you’d ever seen him as you wished he could feel this way every day. The way he looked back over his shoulder, child-like grin adorning his face, you knew you wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.

[underdark-dreams]

This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog. 

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least. 

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest. 

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery. 

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.” 

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship. 

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find. 

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short. 

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes. 

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster. 

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand. 

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking. 

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure. 

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures. 

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression. 

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself. 

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable. 

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years. 

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav 

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page. 

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss. 

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

[homunculus-argument]

Random fantasy story where the protagonist has some Super Rare Cool Special Ability because of course they always do, and their whole story starts with discovering this awesome ability, and it's made very clear from the start that this sort of thing is a Huge Fucking Deal. Like this random peasant kid from a family without a name has got this astonishing inherent ability, the most revered Feared Local Wizard is summoned to come see this, and this guy goes "holy shit my mentor in the big legendary ivory tower will want to see this, that's amazing."

And the protagonist starts getting shipped to the other end of the continent on a journey that's clearly A Huge Fucking Deal, local nobility want to see this kid, they had only heard of this kind of thing in legends and had not ever imagined they would get to see this kind of astonishing gift in real life, with their own eyes.

And somewhere along the way the protagonist and their big shiny entourage that's gotten embarrassingly big end up staying over in some bigger town. The protagonist is left to their own devides and some scrappy kid around the same age starts being rude, and being teenagers, the two start beefing. And by this point being A Big Fucking Deal has gotten into the protagonist's head, and they start going like "do you have any idea who you are dealing with, I've got Cool Awesome Powers" and start showing off.

And the other kid goes "bitch me too you ain't special" and fucking slams the protagonist right back with the same kind of power. One perhaps even more powerful than theirs. And everyone who just saw that is baffled and astonished. The protagonist is shocked. The readers are shocked. The Wizard Mentor who was just about to intervene is shocked. Hold on how the fuck.

So now this new kid is surrounded with curious questions. How the hell did they do that with no training? Wait the fuck do they mean they've always been able to do that? How did nobody know about this? Wait, your parents knew? What the fuck do you mean they knew and didn't tell anyone? Why did they keep you a secret? Hold on how do you not know what this gift you have is?

And the kid is just like "yeah they just told me it's weird and gross and told me to stop doing that." Like this kid's parents saw their child doing something that no other human being is capable of, and simply never bothered to look up what it is or what it means.

[hp-hcs]

Um, yeah, I don't really have a specific character in mind (so you can ignore this if u want to!), but how would some characters react to a male reader who listens to muggle music, but like- metal?? yk

this is the kind of shit i wanna see in my inbox hell fucking yeah

❕i’ll be honest, my vibe has always been more punk/pop punk/metalcore/hard rock 🤷‍♂️ i did my best buttttt these are all just songs from my playlist so- (i adore my slytherin babygirls but they’ll always be second to my lord and savior glenn danzig)❕

also accidentally wrote gn reader again so that’s pretty girlypop

requests open

i’ve never actually written one of these like, group headcanons for a whole bunch of people, but i keep seeing other people doing it so we’re trying it out ig. do we like it? yes? no?

slytherin boys: gn! muggleborn! reader’s music taste is rather…unexpected

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

mattheo: die, die my darling — misfits

i’m of the opinion that mattheo would fucking LOVE the misfits (once you introduce him)

he walks into your dorm to ask you a quick question, and you’re just dancing around in your room screaming the lyrics to:

“DIE DIE DIE MY DARLING, DONT UTTER A SINGLE WORD”

“DIE DIE, DIE MY DARLING, JUST SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH”

he’s like 🧍‍♂️😦😍

and that’s when he falls in love with you

jk, unless????

you show him the misfits’ entire discography, and bitch about jerry only (as u should)

he takes a bit too much of a liking to helena 🤨

yk, the song that goes “if i cut off your arms, and i cut off your legs, would you still love me, anyway? if you’re bound and you’re gagged, draped and displayed, would you still love me, anyway?”

🤨🤨🤨

interesting, mattheo. interesting. not concerning in the slightest.

he adores them and you guys listen to their music together when you study <33

y’all start running around screaming I AINT NO GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH

your teachers love it <3

theodore: nazi punks fuck off — dead kennedys

y’all were showering together

(is that really like a sexy thing? i sure as fuck don’t know 🖤🩶🤍💜)

you started singing to yourself and babygirl was like 😳☺️

he loves ur voice <3

even when you’re singing “nazi punks, nazi punks, nazi punks FUCK OFF”

(cause like……yk…….he’s a wizard nazi himself 😬👍)

awkwarddddd

he always lets you put on your music

to be honest, he doesn’t really care about the lyrics, he just loves that you love it

(*cough* simp *cough*)

draco: possessed by satan — gorgoroth

you’d just come back from winter break and had brought one of your holiday presents back with you: a new record player and a shitload of vinyls

you set it up in your dorm and asked your roomie, draco, if he’d mind if you played something

he'd never admit it, but he was wildly curious what muggle music sounded like

so of course, you blessed him with the sweet sweet sounds of gorgoroth 😌🥰

(aww, nostalgia <3)

he just looked at you like 😨

you then proceeded to educate him on gaahl beating the shit out of someone (a l l e g e d l y) and threatening to drink his blood

he’s now even more concerned

(do you or do you not tell him about the gogoroth concert ft. alive ‘crucified’ actors & impaled sheep heads vs. the country of poland?)

((idk babe that’s for you to decide))

blaise: boogie woogie wu — insane clown posse

i feel like blaise is chill enough to give any music a shot before deciding if he likes it or not

you weren’t that close, just acquaintances, but one day you just offered up your other headphone to him in the middle of a really boring class

oh, he’s in love

🎵😍😍🎶

you make him a playlist of songs you think he’d love, and he lowkey almost starts crying and that’s how he asks you out on your first date

(is it terrible to think that this might be your wedding’s first dance song?)

((NOW MURDERRRR))

(((UH OH, HERE COME THE PO-PO TOO MUCH MURDER)))

enzo: custer — slipknot

it’s your ringtone for someone 😌

like ur mom, or something? idfk

“incoming call from: birthgiver” 🎵CUT CUT CUT ME UP AND FUCK FUCK FUCK ME UP🎶

enz:🧍‍♂️

he doesn’t even know how to react

he’s only a bit terrified

he’ll listen to a few other songs you play for him, but will make you play the weird sisters afterwards

tom: reincarnate — motionless in white

he’s bitching about how much muggles suck and muggle music is trash blah blah blah

and ur like “oh really? wanna bet?”

you whip out your phone and start blasting your playlist

he would absolutely eat that shit up

it’s cheaper than therapy ig 🤷‍♂️

he hates being wrong about anything ever so he’ll never admit out loud that he likes it, but he will just show up at your dorm at like eleven pm like:

“do you have any more uh……song recommendations or something…..uhhhh” 🧍‍♂️

babygirl 💞

[toastermoth]

Hello! I saw your requests are open! I’m actually a fem reader, but I don’t mind a gender neutral one! I’d like to know your headcanons on Solomon when he becomes romantically interested with the mc. Like if he’ll do anything for them or does he get jealous whenever mc spends so much time with the demon brothers. Anything that you think about, it’s up to you. 😊 It’s been a very long time that I haven’t played Obey Me and I just miss them. Thanks!

Hell yeah!! I got OM after almost a year of not playing so ik what you mean when you say you miss them! (I missed Satan </3) one batch of Solomon hcs coming right up! APOLOGIES FOR THIS BEING LONG I HAD FUN WRITING THING

SOLOMON X GN! READER HCS

This man, he's old. Old man. So obviously he knows a few things about love.

Usually it's other people swooning for him but when he met you this man was DOWN MFING BAD.

He started to come up to talk to you inbetween classes more and more often. In a way he seemed awkward?

Hm, maybe he's just trying to be kind? Until he started walking you home everyday which always made you happy because unlike the brothers, he wouldn't abandon you on your walks.

Casually helping you carry books to eventually racing you playfully, to holding your hand and making you run with him all the way to the house of Lamination.

You found yourself falling for the white haired wizard and went to Asmo for advice.

"Sweetie, just say your feelings! I'm more than sure his feelings are intertwined with yours! And if you're too scared work up to it! Spend more time with him and only him!"

Taking Asmo's advice over timeyou found yourself at the purgatory hall. Everyday it seemed like a routine, get up, go to school, go home with Solomon and do whatever two oblivious people who have a crush on each other do!

The lust demon however thought you two were still taking too long and decided to take matters into his own hands.

Next thing you knew, Asmodeus was suddenly all over you, asking to shop, asking to try on some new makeup with him and then soon all the brothers caught on and had their own requests.

"Y/n I require you assistance for this paperwork. Surely you won't disappoint me."

"YO! Y/N! I need ya to help me with some uh.. uh.. LISTEN I JUST NEED YOUR HELP ALRIGHT?!"

"Hey normie, get on Mononoke Land! There's a new event going on!"

"Y/n I need you for helping me find this human book, it's about this boy-"

"Y/n dear! I found this color changing nail polish and it's to DIE FOR! Cmon I need to test it on you!"

"Y/n I'm hungry.. can you make me something? We can share if you want too if I don't eat it all."

"Mnn.. y/n come nap with me... m cold and you're nice and warm.."

Once Solomon noticed you were canceling your plans with him, he started to get suspicious and a little insecure. (He'd never say that out loud however.)

Finally after some debating, he decided to personally take you home with him and find ways to keep you both busy.

The demons take notice (especially Lucifer after you didn't answer his texts after 5 minutes) and sneaked around (Simeon let them in) and noticed you and Solomon laughing together?

"HEY WHAT TH-" "SHHHHH Love is happening."

You hear the demon brothers' bickering but pay no attention as you resume your tickle fight with Solomon.

"You're the person I'd let tickle me and that's saying something, you're the only person I'd let do a lot of things." he said inbetween laughs.

You look at him so full of love as he grabs both your hands and starts tickling you!

"Let the lovebirds be, cmon out out!" Asmo yelled, you both stopped and started laughing at his antics.

God he was in love.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Harry Potter TV

JK Rowling: hello children Poe: oh joanne Poe: you're back Rowling: yesss i have a new harry potter TV sssseriesss that you are all obligated to watch by order of the king Poe: Lovecraft: King: Koontz: Barker: Barker: yeah how's that work? Poe: clive

Rowling: harry potter isss back! Rowling: he'sss the boy who lived! and he will NEVER die Rowling: thanksss to my wealth and influence, i can cram whimsssy down your throatsss forever!! Rowling: now take this online quiz to find out your hogwarts house!! Rowling: take it, i say!!

Rowling: as executive producer, i can finally tell the ssstory of harry potter how i imagined it!! Rowling: i know i've already told the ssstory through the booksss and the moviesss Rowling: but you know, third time is the charm

Rowling: ok sssso picture thisss Rowling: hogwartsss is taken over by transss deatheaterss King: by what? Rowling: oh yeah the deatheaterss are transs now Barker: hell yeah queer villainy Rowling: NO! It's BAD!

Rowling: they're forcing their woke agenda on Hogwartsss Rowling: instead of learning potionss, the sstudents are forced to learn pronounsss!! Rowling: insstead of defensse against the dark artsss, the sstudents are forced to learn Rowling: Rowling: uh Rowling: PRONOUNSS!!

Rowling: now hogwartss musst destroy the woke menace Poe: this sounds a lot more like american evangelical terfism than the genteel plausibly deniable british terfism we're used to from you Rowling: newssflassh, edgar! the ssingularity hass happened! itss all the ssame now!

Rowling: only the hero harry potter can ssave the day! Rowling: by doing the bravessst thing a boy wizard can do Rowling: he'ss going to deadname a murdered teenager

Rowling: harry potter isss back!! Harry potter is eternal!!! Barker: hey whatever happened to that whole cormorant shrike thing you had going Rowling: shut up Barker: aw what's the matter? didn't people like your farty detective? Rowling: SHUT UP

Rowling: the important thing isss Rowling: i'm sstill extremely rich Rowling: and therefore, by british law, correct

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

AFS: Deleted Scene

Din Djarin x Female!Reader

Warnings: Angst/comfort

Word Count: 1,905

Summary: When you asked Mando if there was anything you should know about Grogu when you were hired, this was the kind of thing he should've mentioned.

.

#7.5: LIKE THE WIZARDS

.

The backyard had a little bubbling pond that seemed to stem from an underground hot spring. You always worried about Grogu getting too close because you weren’t sure of the acidity or heat of the water, but Mando had assured you it was safe. Apparently it had critters living in and out of it which made it safe and habitable, but you learned the only reason the little boy continually tried to get to the pond was because of said critters. You joked that Grogu was your little green gremlin, but he was, honest to the Maker, an actual menace to the poor animals that called that little pool home. 

The first time you saw Grogu swallow a frog whole, early in your job as his nanny, you had a heart attack. Your brain screamed ‘choking hazard’ and you had been fully prepped to administer the Heimlich maneuver. However, Grogu just burped then grinned at you with his little mischievous smile. When you called Mando about the incident, he didn’t seem shocked by the news. He did warn you to keep the kid from eating too many frogs simply because it would spoil his appetite for dinner. A concept you found hysterical.

It was a calm morning and you sat by the pond’s edge with your feet resting in the lukewarm water. Grogu sat on a stone to your right, swiping his hands up at bugs that flew past him. Not far off, sitting on the porch with his legs kicked up was the Mandalorian. It occurred to you that maybe you should be spending your days off away from this house and family, but you truly enjoyed your time spent with Mando and his son. You turned your head to glance back over at the man. He was still as a statue, but his frame was loose and relaxed⏤ arms crossed over his chest and head resting back against the wall of his house. You quickly tore your eyes away in fear that he’d catch you staring. You wouldn’t even know either due to his helmet. 

You had grown more and more curious about the man you shared a house with, but you hadn’t quite yet worked up the courage to ask him about all the things you wanted to know. Hell, you weren’t even fully sure what all you wanted to know exactly. Your thoughts were just a whirlwind of curiosity in your mind. The sound of Grogu chirping in excitement made you focus back on the boy who had spotted a frog a few stones away. Your mouth opened to warn him about not getting wet, in fear that he would leap after the critter, but instead he held up a hand in the frog’s direction.

Assuming he was pointing it out to you, you chuckled, “Yeah, it’s a⏤”

Then the frog began to float in the air. It’s legs kicked dramatically as some invisible force lifted it up.

“Grogu!” Mando barked in a panic.

The boy dropped his hand, the frog fell into the water, and Grogu turned to look at Mando who was already marching over. Your body reacted on instinct rather than thought and you scrambled back away from the pond. Grogu turned to look at you, his head tilted, but you watched as his ears sunk and a whimper left his lips. You were frozen⏤ in shock, in disbelief, in confusion⏤ and the swift action of Mando scooping his child off the ground wasn’t enough to shake you loose from the hold it had on you.

“I’m sorry.” Mando blurted and rushed away, back into the house.

You just blinked.

What?

This was Din's fault. He only had himself to blame. He should’ve told you about Grogu’s gift ages ago, but he missed his initial opportunity and as more time passed the more awkward it became to bring it up. Honestly, Din was baffled it took this long for Grogu to slip up and use the Force in front of you. He would jump around the house, onto counters and places he shouldn’t be, but you didn’t seem shocked by that. Maybe you just assumed that had been normal for the boy.

Din had tried to explain to Grogu that you were just caught off guard, but the little boy boy was nothing if not stubborn. He refused to listen and slipped away to bury himself in his hammock curled up with his stuffed blue frog. Din stood outside his own bedroom door trying to figure out what his next step was. He had seen Grogu pout over a number of things, but this was a different kind of isolation. 

“Mando.” Your voice was breathless as you rushed through the backdoor to him. Your eyes were blown wide in shock. “I⏤”

“I’m sorry.” Din shook his head. “I should’ve told you a long time ago. That way you could’ve known beforehand and not…”

Not reacted in the moment as you had.

He hated the way you had scrambled back, but he still found it hard to blame anyone but himself. Realizing a toddler had control over the Force wasn’t the kind of information that was easy to learn on the go. A heads up could’ve prevented that scene.

“No. I… I didn’t mean to… It just caught me off guard.” You sighed. Your arms crossed and Din watched you nervously shift in place. “What…How?”

“He’s Force sensitive. Like⏤ Like the wizards.” Din raised a hand and waved it in example.

You forced a tight smile. “I know what the Force is, Din. I just didn’t know Grogu…” The two of you grew silent, and Din took the moment to take in the devastating guilt drawn across your features. Briefly, the thought flashed through his head. Would he need to find new help? Would you still want to stay? You met his gaze and Din thanked the Maker you weren’t able to confirm that he had been staring so blatantly at you. An act he took part in way too often. “Where is he?”

“His hammock.” Din replied. “He didn’t want to talk to me. Not yet.”

“Can… Can I talk to him?” You asked and your tone made it seem like you thought he’d deny you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you. Your time in this house, by his side, comfortable and domestic should be proof that he maybe trusted you too much, too soon. Din gave you a quick nod, but followed it with a question of his own. “Can I be present? I’ll hang back, but…”

“Of course.” You nodded.

Din trusted you, but he was too protective of Grogu to let you in by yourself after such a discovery. He hated that he felt that way, but it was what it was. 

You knocked on the door nervously then slipped in. Mando followed in a step behind you, but like he said he lingered by the door⏤ leaning against the frame. You didn’t blame him for being hesitant. The way you leapt away from the pond, away from Grogu, made you ill. You truly hadn’t meant to and you knew the boy took that personally. How could he not?

“Grogu?” You murmured. Grogu was curled in his hammock with his back to you. You tip-toed across the room and lifted a hand up to him. You didn’t set it on his back, but just let it hover there. “I… I wanted to talk to you for a minute, buddy.” Grogu stayed quiet. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, but can I have just a minute? If you want me to leave after, I will.”

“Lek.” Grogu mumbled in the softest voice you had ever heard him speak.

You set your hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly, and sighed, “I am so sorry, Grogu. I wasn’t jumping away from you. What happened… You just caught me off guard is all.” You twisted your lips. “Can I pick you up? Will you look at me?” There was a tense pause, a minute or more, and with every passing second you felt worse and worse about your actions. Finally, Grogu turned in his hammock to face you. He sniffled. His large eyes watering as his lip quivered. At the sight, your heart ached. “Oh, Grogu.”

Grogu held his hands out to you and you didn’t hesitate to pull him from the hammock and into your chest. You hugged him and continued to rub his back as you hummed reassurances. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to right this mistake and make it up to the little boy. He spoke, his voice muffled into your shoulder, and you turned your head a bit to see if it would help.

“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Chaabar?” He mumbled, eyes still swimming with tears. “Chaabar Grogu?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know what that⏤”

“Fear.” Mando’s voice filled the room. You spun to see he had stepped further in. His arms crossed. “He’s asking you if you’re scared of him.”

Your heart plummeted.

Din watched as your eyes widened at his words. Fear Grogu? Hearing the words from his son broke his kriffing heart. Your gaze snapped back to the boy in your arms. Din was taken aback when you suddenly kicked your shoes off your feet and crawled onto his bed. You crossed your legs, pulling Grogu closer to yourself, and with the way you positioned yourself it almost looked protective. As if you were shielding Grogu from the world around you.

“No, baby. I’m not scared of you.” You murmured. Baby. Hearing you speak to his son so tender and loving made Din’s chest tighten. He had heard you call Grogu a lot of different nicknames. Buddy, little guy, sweetie, kiddo. This was the first time he had ever heard you call him ‘baby’ though. It held a different connotation. A more intimate one. You spoke to Grogu, looking down at him with a warm gaze, as if he were your own and it took Din’s breath away. “Listen to me, Grogu. Nothing you do could ever scare me away. I think you’re so special, and it caught me off guard, but I… You mean so so so much to me, baby. And I am sorry you would ever think I was scared of you.”

Grogu began to cry, but he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him tightly. Eyes squeezed shut as you hugged him. From where he stood, Din could hear Grogu babbling to you. It was a string of nonsense, but he caught the occasional Mando’a word mixed in here and there. So quick he doubted you’d be able to differentiate babbling from real words. However, Din caught it with ease and the word that stuck out to him was the Mando’a word for ‘love’. 

Grogu loved you.

Your eyes opened and though you still clung so tightly to the boy, your gaze drifted to meet Din’s. After a beat, a small smile crept onto your features. Relief shining in your eyes. It took all the strength Din had to not crawl onto his bed and pull both of you into his own arms.

Grogu loved you, and Din wasn’t surprised at all.

He was well on his way to loving you too.

Mando'a translation:

Chaabar: Fear

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[geminimoonbeamx]

Friday I’m In Love

A/N: So jokes on me because I didn't expect to love Eddie Munson this much. @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ told me he was going to be the it girl of this season and I said absolutely not. 

Warnings: Smut, lots of it. Drug use. Judgemental teenage girls

Parings: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Eddie invites you to his show, and holy shit. You show up. 

“Remind me why the hell were here again?” 

You’d never been to The Hideout, a shitty hole in the wall off the highway outside of  town. You’ve driven by it like, a thousand times and never once had the urge to go inside. Now, as you stand next to your friend, Shelly’s, mom’s Subaru in the half empty parking lot your nerves are going haywire, over eager to walk through the doors. 

“Because, we were invited”  you answer simply. Duh. Sweeping more glittery lip gloss on and fluffing your hair before adding “plus it’s not like we had anything else to do” 

“We could literally be doing anything else then this- isn't Clair throwing a party tonight?” 

“Yeah, but all her parties are always like, major depressing. Ever since Heather you know”-you  make a gurgling choking sound and cross your eyes “Its like, why do we have to do a toast to the dead girl, every party. I get once- but it feels redundant” 

You get it. Claire and Heather were best friends. You’re also not in the mood to go hold her hand while she cries about it. Again. 

Also, Heather had put gum in your third grade. So- 

“For one- you're a horrible person” Shelly accuses, shaking her overly curly head “For two, we could’ve gone to the movies or something” 

“You think the theaters boring, plus like. Won't it be fun to try something new? Come on” you grab her hand and pull her along behind you. Sparing one last glace at the familiar van, parked idle towards the front of the lot. 

“So like, this has nothing to do with you and weirdo Munson, right?” 

“Right- and its funny the way that you only think he’s weird after he sells you weed. Asshole” 

Well- its not like you we’re expecting anything fancy from the Hideout. No expectations, no disappointment, right? The bar is the textbook definition of a dive.The lingering smell of stale beer hits you straight in the face as you walk in. Seedy lighting that makes everything look shadowy and almost green-

“Oh look! They have pool tables!” you point out because that could be fun. Maybe?

“Oh great” She replies, voice fasle sugar sweet before dropping “I want to leave” 

“Shh” you elbow her, hard. “We just got here. Play nice” 

And she does, for the most part. Sit down at one of the sticky tables with you. Avoids the looks of the bar's patrons- older. Wasted. White trash, for sure. You wouldn't talk to them, not ever but like. Whatever. You can just ignore them. That’s easy enough. 

Especially when they get on stage. The Dark Wizards, Eddie at the lead. Even though he's not singing, even though he’s off to the side with that bright cherry red guitar of his. He’s the star. 

“We’re the Dark Wizards, and we’re about to rock your mortal world” 

You don't know when this…thing you had for Eddie developed. Somewhere between smoke laced conversations and late nights glued to your phone, him fighting the shitty static of his own line to talk until one of you called uncle, the thing had taken a life of its own. 

He’s odd. Yeah. But no other guy has ever been this nice to you. Eddies odd, but he’s not cruel. He’s not like the asshole jocks or elitist math nerds. He’s not even like the rest of his leather clad D&D playing posse. 

You wish you could get everyone else to see that. Get your friends to see that. 

The singer is trash, the drummer can't keep a beat to save his life, but the guitar riffs are melodic. Smooth and sharp, and your heart catches the tune and beats in time. Blood flow slowing and stopping until your all but hypnotized. 

You clap and cheer and cant manage to tear your eyes away until the final note plays, their set is over-

“Oh my god, you're so into him” the statement is disgusted, mostly. Fascinated. Your friend looks at you like she's watching a car crash- violent and bloody, but she can't take her eyes off of it. 

You just shrug because like. Yeah. Obviously.

“Oh fuck no” she groans, face palming hard. 

Eddie hurries out from behind the stage, which is really just their supply room. Grinning from ear to ear, beaming arms spread out wide. “Look who came!” 

“You invited me, I told you I’d come” You try to contain it, but you're giddy. Even more so when he throws a gangly arm around your shoulder. “It’s no biggie” 

“No biggie? You came all the way out here to see little ol me. Huge biggie, my friend. Huge” He holds his heart with his other hand dramatically- 

Always so dramatic. Always so enamoring. 

“You deserve a drink. A real one, what is this?” He dips his pinky into your friend's drink and her nose scrunches up something fierce and offended “Sprite? Nah, that's a peasant drink. Bartender kind sir- pour us something strong. And…fruity” 

The bartender, who looks like an Ex-con, actually makes a mean Mojito. 

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

“It’s totes okay, I’ll call you when I get home, yeah?” 

You're in the parking lot, again. Except for you're not leaving in the car that you came in. 

Shelly’s tucked into the Subaru, staring out at you with all knowing eyes. 

He’s just going to drop me off at home. 

Uh Huh. 

Seriously. 

“Yeah whatever you better call me later- I want all the dirty details. Use protection- bye” she waves before her tires screech, hauling ass away from the Hideout. You flip her the bird all the way. 

“Okay let's blow this popsicle stand” you plop into the passenger side of the beat up old van, bouncing along as you go. Glad for the low cut blouse you’d donned because Eddie's eyes follow your chest, comically, animatedly. Up and down. 

“Whatever you say, mi’lady. Your house?”

“I mean- I don't have a curfew or anything on the weekend- we could go somewhere else. If you want to?”

Eddie looks pensive, lips pursed, before a light bulb goes off in his head. 

“Want to go to the end of the earth with me?” He questions as he reverses, and well. How can you say no to that offer? 

-----

The cliffs of Sattlers Quarry are jagged and high. Eddie parks too close to the edge- takes you out. Holds your hand tight as you screech, not being able to look over for more than a second. 

“Its okay,” Eddie chuckles, herding you into the open back of the van. “I come here all the time, were all good Y/L/N.”  

The seats are ripped out, posters of dragons and bare tittied ladies plastered on the metal walls. Black Sabbath plays lowly from the crappy speakers and he lays an armful of threadbare blanket down for cushioning, for the two of you to curl up on. 

You cling to him just to do it. Keep close as he rolls the cleanest joint you’ve ever seen. Spark and smoke and laugh- all attached to hip. He talks about Tolkien as fluidly as he does Karl Marx, he likes pineapple on pizza and was born the day before Valentines. Cats are superior to dogs, and he like lives off of peanut butter crunch cereal. 

His dad split when he was in eight grade and living with his Uncles not so bad, really. It’s kind of like rooming with a chill homie, but definitely nothing like having a real parent. 

“I'm boring you aren't I? Just tell me to stop, and I’ll zip my lips. Locked. Key is thrown, right off that cliff” He makes the motions, zip. Key, tossed and you lean your face into his jean clad shoulder. 

“Mmm, no. I like listening to you talk” its not a lie, not the usual shit you blow up guys ass. Everything out of Eddie’s mouth is unexpected, he tells stories with words. Vivid pictures, film on a loop. With your lungs burning and THC running through your system it's even better. 

“I like you. In general” Eddie whispers, and you hide your face even more. He shrugs you away though, turning. Face to face, no way to run from his dark eyes “I like your eyes” he leans in, and you think finally he’s gong to kiss you. Instead he gets close enough. Blinks fluttery fast, his lashes against yours. Butterfly kisses

You shake your head, cheeks burning, chest tight. 

“And your hair? I really like that- even if it is better than mine which is rude. And don't even get me started on your perfume because that? That’s my favorite. And your-” 

You slap a hand over his mouth pushing until he gives way. Until your on top thick thighs caging his waist “Stop it, jeeze I lied. I hate your voice, shuddap!” 

He makes a few muffled attempts, squirming a bit before giving up.  Going lax, bringing his hands behind his head and looking at you with dark eyes that shine and sparkle. He's enjoying this, and the long languid lick he gives to your hand shouldn't feel as good as it does. 

You like Eddie, like the way he feels. You like the way he lets you be who you want to be, do what you want to do. Other guys would’ve thrown you off, too heavy. Too dominant. They didnt want to play, but Eddie. Eddie’s wanted to play with you since you hit that doobie behind the gym. 

You unbutton your blouse slowly, letting him watch you. He can have it. All of it. Everything. You unhook your bra and those dark eyes go wide. 

“This okay?” you ask, taking your hand off of his mouth, resting on his shoulder. 

He nods, quick, adam's apple bobbing “Are you even asking me that right now? Yes, fuck yes I am a-okay. The best, really-” 

The kiss you cut him off with is messy, too much tongue. Too much want. Why had you wanted this long? Maybe it should’ve have been more romantic- but then again maybe it is? It’s own version of romance, its own courting and dating and being cared for. 

Eddies hands are everywhere, eager and exploring and its almost funny until he thumb brushes over your nipple, just on the right side of rough, making you  gasp sharp into his mouth, and grind down onto his hard lap in tight circles. Eddie pulls away, just barley. Dragging his slick mouth acros your jaw, down your chest, your hands fist tight his hair as he runs the flat of his tongue along the nub. 

It feels too good, mind numbing. Base instinct, two teenagers and in a fogged up car. Breathing eachothers air, tasting each other spit. Fumbly and needy, too fast. 

Struggling out of your clothes, you wiggle out of your tight acid washed jeans as Eddie shed’s layer after layer- Hell Fire Club Tee, Leather Jacket, Denim vest. The floor of his van littered. You’re tugging on your pink panties when he blankets himself over you, pushing you back down. The blankets rough on your bare skin. 

Eddie’s a weirdo, not a virgin. And most importantly, he’s good with his hands. The long ring donned fingers work magic. The real life kind that gets your back arching and has sounds that would embarrass you to think about later clawing their way from your throat. Feels almost too good as he rests his forehead against yours, noses bumping as he pounds his fingers in and out of you. 

He likes it, watching you squirm, watching your hips shift every time he tries to pull his hand away. 

He keeps condoms in the glove box, mostly for show. Hope. The off chance that some girl gives him a chance and wants to hook up- once in a blue moon shit. He’s glad for them now, even if it means pulling away from a whining writhing you

When he slides back between your thighs it's a heady feeling. He’s almost vibrating, shaking out of his skin, nervous excitement making him clumsy. He  misses. Doesnt slide into you easily, the two of you shifting and giggling, gasping and nosing at one and other until. 

Oh. 

There. 

The inhale you take is shaky and sharp and Eddie groans and buries his head in your neck. Breathing in your sweet perfume as his hips begin to pump. 

“O-oh my god. Eddie-” You stutter, holding on to his shoulders. He’s not the thickest guy you’ve been with, but his dicks long. Longer then average forsure. Jabbing at that place inside you, pleasure pain bursting behind your eyelids and you cling to his shoulders. There's no real pace, not from the nineteen year old, but the friction of sweaty bodies feels good, the rocking rhythmic and almost peaceful as you stare up at the van’s ceiling. You like it, the way he moans, the way he tells you how it feels- he really doesn't ever shut up. 

Its quick, you’re young and Eddie’s never been with anyone who feels so tight. You can tell when he’s close, when he speeds up to nothing more then a dirty, desperate grind. When his whole body goes taught and his arms tighten around your waist, holding onto you as he rides it out. As he shakes and shudders, needing the grounding. You hold him in the cradle of your thighs. 

He pulls out with a hiss and slumps, heavy and boneless on to you and you stroke his back, trail your fingers across his shoulders soothingly. It felt good the minutes that go by in overexerted bliss. It wasnt like you weren't used to not getting yours. Guys just had a one track mind, right? No big deal, you’ll handle it when you get home- 

Eddie's head perks up from your chest. Almost like he could read your mind, Isnt that one of his D&D elf powers or whatever?

His animated, recovered enough to have regained that mischievous look. He waggles his tongue, vulgar and pushing corny

 “Your turn, mi’lady”

[oqlixsreads]

𝗜 𝗗𝗢𝗡’𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗡𝗬𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗖𝗵. 𝟭

summary// y/n can see eddie drifting away so easily for someone else, how would he feel when he has to watch you go through what he saw with chrissy? or could he possibly prevent it?

warnings + content warning// angst, fluff, break ups, cursing, mentions of drugs, death, SPOILERS FOR s4, lmk if i missed some

authors note// if i’m obsessing over a character i’ll hit a stage were i need to read or write angst abt them😔 i’m literally in love with chrissy she could never do anything wrong🫶🏼 italics =flashbacks n/n=nickname (this was not supposed to have multiple chapters i’m sorry)

t.list

you had been well aware of these strange things that went on in hawkins. hell you were involved since the day will byers went missing.

you were friends with steve, worked with him during summer where you made your new friend robin. until a human meat monster comes in along with russians torturing the three of you while two kids try to save you.

but that’s in the past now. or at least you tried to put it in the past, newsflash. it didn’t work with everyone reminding you about it or talking about it like it’s the new hot gossip. while you were practically over with your junior year of high school. it was finally time for spring break. you were so close only one day left! although there were some cons to this spring break ahead of you. for some reason you had been starting to see things. clocks for some reason? your nightmares, the headaches, the random clock that would show up, a magic wizard killing teens…

you could get away from the school for two weeks that’s so exciting. it’s even better now that you don’t have to see the boy that had been pushing away from you. your ex eddie. it was hard to walk past his table to get to either max or robin without dustin or mike calling your name. while he was present.

finally. the day was over, max invited you over for a little sleepover it sucked that she lived right beside eddie. the two of you were feeding her dog when his van pulled up. making the both of you turn, and you saw him hoping out locking eyes with one another. before he walked into his uncles trailer.

then seeing another presence following him, the girl you knew eddie had been ditching you for, chrissy. you didn’t blame her though, it was actually far from her fault. max placed her hand on your shoulder. “y/n, you ok?” you let out an agitated sigh “yeah i’m fine” flashing her a small smile. “how about we get ready for bed and watch a horror movie.”

however the power started acting weird. and the two of you heard eddie scream the watch him drive off like a crazy person but just continued on with your night.

you didn’t even get to finish the movie without the two of you being knocked out. a nightmare had taken you once again. this time you were in a long hallway with doors plastered from left to right. and a grandfather clock inside of the wall at the end of the hall. it felt like it kept getting further and further. and that noise no matter how far the wall was the noise just kept getting louder as if it were right beside you.

a door to the right creaked open and there were your friends. however they were dead with flies coming out of their mouths while swarming their bodies. you watched in horror the sight was sickening. while trying to leaving the room you were met with a door slammed shut.

and a deep voice behind you. “you’re next, but don’t worry. i’ll take the pain away.” “w-what?” it felt like the floor was snatched beneath you.

you were falling for what it felt like an eternity before shooting up on the bed while sweat beads were rested on your forehead while it felt like something was punching our skull over, and over. “holy fuck.” max wasn’t beside you anymore or she was probably out in the kitchen.

police sirens were heard in the distance but got louder as the approached a near house. following the noises max caught sight of you and the two teenagers ushered outside. they were at eddie’s house.

“looks like that munson boy’s up to no good again.” while his uncle sat in the porch looking stressed, or traumatized even. y/n and max took a closer look the scene in front of them made their stomachs churn. Chrissy cunninghams lifeless body sat right there on the floor. it felt like the world went quiet until an officer came scared them back into the house. “you kids can’t be out here, get back inside.”

y/n and max had a feeling this had to do with the past encounters they had before. there was no way a human could possibly do what had been done on that poor girl.

“ok, what the fuck did we just see.” y/n said as calm as one could be. max was struggling to form the words that were going on in her mind. “we should go see dustin.”

“Chrissy cunningham?! you’re sure it was her?” “yes, she was in her cheerleader outfit when we saw her with eddie.” “you tell all this to the cops?” dustins voice sounded unsure about this information pacing back and forth. “no, no but we can be the only ones that saw them. i mean, they stick out like a sore thumb”.

“Eddie the freak. and chrissy the cheerleader.” “Eddie’s probably suspect number one right now.” the boys facial expressions changed like a gust of wind knocked his hat off. “no way, eddie didn’t do this” max’s face made an iffy expression. “no. way.” “honestly, i don’t really think eddie did it either.” y/n spoke with agreeing with dustin. “i mean we saw her body there’s no way any person could possibly do this.”

“well we can’t rule it out.” “yes we can.” “the only person nice to mike and i when we got to high school was eddie.” “they said the same thing about ted bundy.” y/n’s head tilted and eyes narrowed looking at max.

“are you comparing him to ted bundy?” “n-no! we just can’t presume anything plus it doesn’t look good for eddie.” the three teenagers took a seat on the bed “why didn’t you guys tell this to the cops.” they sighed. “something happened, in the house. the power went crazy. and we heard eddie scream then drive off like a maniac.”

“what if this wasn’t something you could see.” y/n stuttered. “but that’s impossible plus the only person that actually knows.” “eddie”.

the three of them went rushing out of the house not before Ms. henderson scolded them “dusty where are you kids going? you heard the news it’s not safe.” “you’re right so we’ll be extra careful. thanks mom, i love you bye.”

the trio sped off to the video shop. “y/n what are you doing here? it’s your day of-“ max cut steve off “steve we need the phones, all of them.” robins and steve’s eyebrows knitted together. “huh?”

dustin jumped over the counter the the three older ones yelling at him. “guys you could play around out here on monday but it’s saturday our busiest day.” dustin ignored them and continued looking up eddie’s friends phone numbers.

“yeah do one of you wanna strangle him or should i do it.” steve said glancing from robin to y/n. “guys fill them in.” “fill us in on what..?”

now all of them were on the phone with his friends. while steve was flirting with customers. until max got someone ‘reefer rick’ however they knew nothing about this man. till steve recommends the police. “we’re trying to prove him innocent steve.” now the five of them surrounded the computer narrowing out all the ricks in the system.

after finding one that might just be the one they sped down to the home by lovers lake.

even though y/n hated eddie for falling out of love with them and the way they had to find out. the way he was so up front about it.

the two of them met up in the woods behind the school whenever they could. y/n quickly picked up when he wasn’t showing up to dates, or movie nights, never kissing them, or picking up calls. watching him share a glance or two with chrissy.

“you’re dealing to chrissy now?” y/n said looking up from the book in front of them. “that’s shocking.” eddie shook his head in agreement. “just don’t leave me for her.” y/n joked trying to see him laugh instead he hit them with a scoff and rolled his eyes. “seriously y/n” “what? i’m just messing with you.”

oh and y/n knew all about his little crush from middle school.

they had agreed to meet up at their spot in the woods unbeknownst that they would find him there with chrissy. watching from a distance to where they did see them they saw eddie being all cheerful, happy, he was giggling and she was too, eddie was giving her the opposite of what he was giving to y/n.

they watched their boyfriend have a wider smile on his face than the one he gave them in the morning. y/n walked back not caring if a twig broke turning their attention onto them. chrissy didn’t seem to hear it from her laughter but eddie heard it. and caught sight of his partners figure get smaller and smaller with every step they took. he knew he was royally fucked.

“hey sorry but i need to be heading home.” the deal was cut short and he raced after them with chrissy going in the opposite direction. luckily for him he was able to catch up. “hey y/n wait!” he spoke quietly grabbing their shoulder and turning them around. “just leave me alone eddie. i’m tired of this.” “tired of what?” y/n swayed their head with a sarcastic smile and laugh. “you keep forgetting about me for her. don’t even try and say it was just a deal. because you know it wasn’t. just fuck off at this point.”

“no, no, no, no. don’t walk away. i’ll make it up to you, i promise i will.”

the first time they had hung out in what felt like months y/n felt him pulling away. “eddie” his eyes tore from the screen to look y/n in the eyes. “hm?” “why don’t we go on dates anymore?” he looked at the ground. “uhm don’t know i guess we’re too busy.” they winced at that stupid excuse and let a single tear hold down their cheeks. “that’s such bullshit.”

his heart rate picked up. “what?” “i know you don’t want me eddie. you want her. why won’t you just admit it? were you set on leading me on until i couldn’t take it anymore?” he was at loss for words while being met with questions he could never answer without straight up saying ‘i don’t know’. “i-well.” he stumbled over his words. he looked guilty. “you don’t want me eddie. do you?” “i- i’m sorry y/n. i don’t love you anymore.” that was the last straw. “you should’ve just broke it off with me. you wasted my time.”

they grabbed their shoes lacing the strings and opened up the door. “wait- don’t leave. it’s raining let me drive you home and we can talk.” the door shut. and y/n walked home tears that night. 7 months of their life. wasted for nothing. and for what?

the next few days were absolute hell. it sucked you were good friends with dustin and mike, because he was too, they caught on fast when they weren’t showing up to the campaigns anymore and scolded eddie. all they wanted to do was go home but was stop by mike.

“y/n do you have a minute?” “no.” they just stopped hanging out with them altogether.

those words would repeat over and over again. but the real question was why does y/n care so damn much? very valid question as surely most people would turn away and not give a shit.

they pulled up to an empty house on liptom. “looks like no one’s in the-“ dusting started banging on the door. yelling out his name. when y/n saw a shed. “hey guys? i’m gonna look in the shed.” max followed behind feeling like it was necessary.

the place had food wrappers and they started analyzing it. till steve started poking the tarp with an ore. “he might be in here.” “hey i think someone was here.” “maybe he got spooked and ran away.” “don’t worry steve with help us with his ore.” with a figure popping out from under a blanket.

half scaring them all to shit. “wait wait wait.” “EDDIE STOP ITS DUSTIN!” forcing steve to drop the ore. “it’s my friends you know robin from band. this is max the one that never wants to play d&d and you know n/n obviously.” he said trying to lighten up the mood. “i swear on my mothers life.” the younger guy said ushering everyone else to agree with him. “yeah, yeah we swear on dustin’s mother.”

eddie sat down and was shaking and flinched at the touch of dustin’s hand. “we just want to know what happened.” y/n said taking a closer step. “you won’t believe me.”

“try us.”

“her body just- lifted up into the air. and just stayed in the air. and her bones started to snap.” he paused “it was like something was inside her head. pulling. and i left her there.”

he was looking from dustin to robin to max and steve but refusing to make eye contact with y/n. “you all probably think i’m crazy.” “no we actually think the opposite eddie.” “don’t bullshit me.” “we aren’t we believe you.”

they start explaining the upside down. and how hawkins isn’t totally a good place. y/n bent to his level “the monsters have been back before and if they’re back again. we need to know. did you see anything?” “like dark particles?” “like dust almost. swirling dust.”

“no man. it wasn’t anything you could see. or touch.” max and y/n exchanged a look. “i tried to wake her it’s like she was in a trance.” “a spell.” “a curse”

“vecna’s curse.”

“an undead wizard with great power.”

all of them were trying to piece together what the fuck was going on in this town. then dustin spoke up.

“we’ll get you some food and try to find some information. y/n i need to go stay here with eddie.” he said as if they had no choice and tossing a walkie-talkie into their hands. “WHAT THE FUCK? NO? i’m not staying here with him.” automatically protesting. “yeah i don’t really think that’s a good idea.” max said trying to defend y/n’s situation.

“he needs someone with him.” “yes i agree but that someone will not be me.” “y/n listen-“ eddie attempted to butt in the conversation but failed miserably. “shut up.” “i’m not staying here with him dustin.”

y/n watched the four of their “friends” drive away without them. “you gotta be fucking kidding me.” their intention was to talk to themselves but ended with eddie hearing it. “y/n can we just talk.” they ignored him by walking off into the house.

finding the closest room and slamming the door in his face. y/n spent the last hour talking to max on the walkie-talkie. “i can’t believe you let them drive off without me max. i’ll never forgive you for this one y’know.” “i know i’m sorry. it’s getting really late. i’m sorry again. goodnight.” y/n sighed to themself. “goodnight.”

slowly dozing off. before rudely interrupted by 4 soft knocks from the other side of them door. “please y/n i just want to talk.” he got no response. “i know you’re awake, i won’t come in but just listen to what i have to say.” y/n sat up and sat in front of the closed door keeping the two apart.

“i don’t need closure eddie. you already said it. you don’t love me anymore.” their voice cracked while eyes were brimmed with tears. lifting their hand up to lock the door that sat behind them. eddie heard the click. “you don’t have to respond y/n just listen to me.”

“ok look i’m sorry. i’m so so sorry, the second i realized i wanted chrissy and thought i fell out of love i should’ve broke it off. but i didn’t and i missed out on our dates, our movie nights. i missed everything i know. and i shouldn’t have. i wasn’t there for you. i lied. i wish there’s a way for me to go back and fix it but i can’t. you’re the most amazing person i’ll ever meet, and i was stupid enough to not see that.” there was a long pause.

“i was wrong y/n, i was wrong when i said i didn’t love you anymore. i still do and i realized this since you left my house that night, i shouldn’t have let you walk out..” the silence between them was awkward and uncomfortable. “i love you.”

their nose flared, what do you even say after your ex who told you no more than 5 weeks ago that he didn’t love you anymore, does in fact still love you?

“no you don’t eddie”.

he heard foot steps getting further from the door and shuffling noises from the bed and heard the lamp cut off. there’s no way he was recovering from this one anytime soon.

i decided to make this a series i don’t feel like making a long ff and it might be LONG

[sickly-victorian-boy]

Last year, when looking through the offerings on the shelf of free books in my college’s library, I happened upon this gem:

I then promptly forgot about it until now, when I rediscovered it while unpacking the boxes I neglected to attend to before. yknow. the literal week before the semester starts.

Regardless, it is simultaneously so much better and so much worse than I ever could have hoped for. It contains instructions for the creation of lovely decor for any wizard tower, and while clearly intended for children, I will absolutely be making some of these myself, in part because I’m pretty sure obtaining this tome put some kind of curse on me and unleashing them upon the world is the only way to avoid getting sent to a hell dimension. Some of the treasures detailed herein include:

SOCK DRAGON FROM HELL

CHALICE OF HIGH CAMP

THE STRANGLING ORBS

and finally, my favorite, a self-proclaimed thing of beauty:

BALL STEALING DRAGON.

Are any of these items functional things that I genuinely need to use? Hell no. Are they things that could generally be considered “in good taste?” Hell no. Will my life be noticeably improved by making them? HELL YEAH. Also, I’m pretty sure that if I don’t make the sock dragon a physical form it’s going to peel itself off of the pages of the book and start haunting me.

Anyway, if anyone else has fond memories of low-quality themed children’s craft books from the early 2000s, is in dire need of some new decorations for their wizardly lair, or just generally wants to make any of this shit, let me know and I can DM you the full instructions!

[tommarvoloriddlesdiary]

By the time it’s through, Harry is a panting victorious mess.

He swears some Gryffindors get dumber by the year. They were pulling the same stunt at every start of the term. I mean, Harry scoffs and thinks to himself, they couldn’t even have been bothered to pick a different corridor. It astounds Harry how persistent their hatred of Slytherins—of him especially, remains even after all these years.

Like, so what? He can talk to a few snakes, and he’s alright at quidditch, and, yeah, he defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort when he was a baby and then sorted Slytherin at eleven. It’s not like anyone told him it was some cultural taboo to accidentally end a war and sort into the mass murderer’s Hogwarts House.

Honestly, Harry has a sneaking suspicion that even if someone had told him, he’d of ended up in a similar, if not worse, situation. So he’ll take the yearly Gryffindor smackdown any day.

Surveying his handiwork, Harry gives a pleased nod to nothing in particular. These six definitely need the medi-wing, but, seeing as Harry was slighted from the Head Boy position and finishing off his final year at Hogwarts as a mere seventh-year prefect, he figures this can slip under his radar. Of course, it’s not good to slack on the first week back, and usually Harry frowns at anything of the sort, but six to one is his new personal best. So, this little lapse in duty can be a small treat for a job well done.

The pep to his step and smile on his face certainly agree with Harry’s decision as he does an about-face and walks a few paces only to come toe to toe with their latest Defence professor.

Shite.

Harry’s face shutters and he freezes in place. There’s no way he can talk his way out of this. But, more importantly, what the hell is he going to do about a bloody witness.

In the haze of panic, Harry has enough sense to correct his posture quickly. He straightens up, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him, and speaks politely, if a little blandly, “Professor Riddle.” Harry bows his head in what he hopes comes across as a sign of respect and not the blatant attempt to hide his wince that it is. How could he have been so careless?

Professor Tom Riddle is the hot new thing in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not only for the ne’er-do-well gossip mongrels but also just- generally. He’s incredibly attractive and incredibly unknown. Sure, he has more than enough qualifications for the position, but no one has any useful information on the man other than the fact that he might have been a Slytherin in another life. And that’s only because he’s got a pet snake slithering about, allegedly.

All of that to say: Harry has no idea how his new professor will react to this. But it’s vital that he keeps his head down this year; nothing can come between him and freedom from the Dursleys. Especially not a little roughhousing with a few morons. If Professor Riddle punishes him with a detention or eight, it will be a low blow but bearable— and if he brings what Harry’s done to the Headmaster…

Harry is certain expulsion will be considered with a heavy hand. Headmaster Dumbledore did not like Harry one bit.

“Harry Potter,” Professor Riddle’s voice is deep and just on the edge of lilting. It’s a nice voice, Harry’s shocked to acknowledge. His lessons will be a huge step up from Snape’s temporary claim of the role. Thank the gods they forced him back to Potions. Though, Slughorn’s lessons and overall attitude were pleasant while they lasted.

They both stood without saying another word in tense silence. Well, tense for Harry. He’s not too sure what’s rattling around in Professor Riddle’s head that’s keeping him so quiet.

Actually, Harry couldn’t imagine being on the other end of this scenario. Like, what would he do if he’d come upon some kid, who by almost all accounts was the supposed saviour of the wizarding world, beating the shite out of six Gryffindor students? Harry doesn’t think he’d handle it as well as Professor Riddle seems to be. In fact, maybe they should both take a cue from Fake-Professor-Harry and just pretend this never happened.

Harry’s neck is just starting to strain from its lock level with the floor when Professor Riddle speaks, “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

His head snaps up at the pleasant, almost jolly tone. Professor Riddle is staring out into the courtyard, eyes glued to something far, far in the distance. Completely ignoring the six injured students mere metres away.

Dumbfounded, Harry replies, “It’s evening.” And it is evening. Harry tries to look out at whatever has Professor Riddle’s steadfast attention and can’t pinpoint a damn thing. It’s dark as all hell out there. Finally, in the awkward pause, Harry finds the wherewithal to look back and tack on a belated, “Professor.”

Professor Riddle’s eyes slip to Harry’s face, but his head remains still, and Harry comes to the startling realisation that this is meant to be an act. Anyone passing by, or any nosey portraits, would still believe him enchanted by the courtyard and not confronting a rogue student.

“I know you’re socially inept, Mr Potter. But you are not stupid.”

And with that charming, hissed comment, Harry turns about-face once again to also fake watch the courtyard. “Why yes, sir. Very lovely.”

“It seems,” Professor Riddle starts up again, “in my vacant-minded appreciation for this beautiful day, I have forgotten some paperwork in my office. Could you spare a moment to accompany me?” Harry hears the loud and clear statement as what it is: a demand.

“Of course, sir. I happen to be returning to the common room and going that direction regardless.” Harry is oddly proud of the truth of this. He is technically done with his prefect rounds now, anyhow.

“Very good. Come along.”

The walk to Professor Riddle’s office is long. It’s made longer by their run-in with a few of the Hogwarts Ghosts. Peeves has always had this odd tolerance for Harry that he’s gladly taken advantage of more times than he can count. Something about his father and his father’s friends, the best group of pranksters to ever walk these halls! or whatever. Harry’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, their slight distraction with Peeves has nothing on the Grey Lady’s interaction with Professor Riddle.

She never takes an interest in anyone outside of her little Ravenclaws if Hermione is to be believed. And Hermione is rarely ever wrong. So Harry is on the deep end of surprised when she floats down the other end of the fifth-floor corridor, sees them coming, and waits. Ghosts can’t really be described as warm— unless you were talking about the Fat Friar, and only then because, even as a ghost, he appears to be wearing too many layers for this time of year— but the Grey Lady’s soft eyes for Professor Riddle is a near thing.

“Tom,” she starts as Harry follows his professor’s lead and stops to greet her. “You’re back.”

Harry tries to keep as quiet as a mouse because he very desperately wants to know what she means by that, and he doesn’t think she’s even realised he’s here yet. Harry doesn’t even think he’s ever heard her speak before, either, but her voice is as soft as her eyes. Dainty like bells.

“Yes, Lady Ravenclaw. It has been a long time.” Professor Riddle seems pleased she remembers him. But… Harry can’t put his finger on it. Something just feels off. His neck prickles with that alert sort of awareness, the kind he’s never really been able to break since he was a kid—that prickle of danger.

Grey Lady nods, “Nearly three decades.”

Three decades? Hell, that’s a long time. How old is Professor Riddle anyway? He doesn’t look a day older than thirty, but unless Grey Lady knew him pre-birth, Harry would have to reevaluate his perception of wizard ages.

Harry is vaguely aware that this is all none of his business, and he really shouldn’t be standing here listening closely and pondering on whether or not Professor Riddle was a good Ravenclaw back in the day. But knowledge is power, right? As an obvious Ravenclaw Alumni, Professor Riddle would appreciate Harry’s retention. And since Harry still has no idea how he’ll react to the little skirmish from earlier, looking out for possible blackmail wouldn’t be amiss.  

Professor Riddle looks surprised, “I don’t recall speaking with you the last time I was here.”

“Because you didn’t,” her reply is simple and to the point. Not said with any ounce of anger. It’s undoubtedly spoken with a fair amount of weight, however.

Harry hasn’t spent six, going on seven, years in the snake pit not to pick up on her clear underlying message: you didn’t see me, but I saw you. And even though it sounds like a threat, Harry is confident she only means it as a warning. A warning for what? Harry hopes to find out.

“How terribly remiss of me,” Professor Riddle shakes his head as though ashamed. “We should rectify this, of course, and speak at length when you have the time,” his accompanying smile is bright and charming. Harry almost wants to whistle in appreciation. That is some fine schmoozing if he says so himself.

But Grey Lady doesn’t respond. Instead, she floats on, and as she passes Harry, her shoulder phasing through his, he can’t help noticing her stricken face. The purse to her lips and the translucent grip of her hands, it’s almost like she’s scared.

Harry watches her go, still for a touch too long, and Professor Riddle clears his throat, “If you’ll continue following me, please, Mr Potter.”

His attention snaps back to the professor, “I had no idea you were a Ravenclaw, Professor Riddle.”

Professor Riddle looks very amused for a moment. Then, he continues walking and asks, “Whatever gave that away?”

Harry is immediately suspicious, “Ravenclaw’s Ghost. She doesn’t speak with anyone outside of her House. Even the professors have a hard time catching her attention unless they are one of her past students.” When Professor Riddle doesn’t respond right away, Harry adds, “For example, she didn’t acknowledge me once during your conversation.”

“That is true,” he nods, and that strange amusement lingers on the edges of Professor Riddle’s lips. They don’t speak for the remainder of their walk, though it isn’t without Harry trying.

Really, Harry hasn’t met anyone this paranoid in his life— maybe Moody, but the Auror is in a league all his own. However, Professor Riddle isn’t far behind, acting as though even the floors have ears. Or, at least, Harry assumes it’s paranoia stopping the Professor from answering. Maybe he’s just fed up with Harry’s questions…

As they enter the Defence classroom, Harry takes in the changes. Each Defence Professor certainly came with their own flair. Lockhart with his vain decor and opulence, Remus with his purely educational and scientific creatures posters and skeletons, Moody with his nearly claustrophobic clutter of dark curse detectors and jars of worms and bees, Umbridge with her bare-walled bleakness almost as though she could be the only thing of note in the room, Snape with his… well… Snape-ness—no one was surprised to come into the drawn curtain, candle-lit, gruesome pictured room last year.

Professor Riddle is an interesting mix, Harry thinks. Not over the top with gold and silver or anything like that, but there’s definitely a lustre to everything that speaks of fine quality. There’s a nice variety of defence posters, all topics from creatures to spells to stances to potions. How refreshing after the gloom of Snape. It’s brighter in here, Harry notes. Even in the late hour, the warm glow of the room is inviting.

Harry carefully tucks away the sight of a large empty vivarium for later questioning as Professor Riddle shows him up the staircase to his office.

“Have a seat, Mr Potter.” Professor Riddle rounds his desk, a simple wooden piece, large and already strewn with papers, and takes a seat. Harry follows suit, taking in his office with much less attention than the classroom. If only because it seems Professor Riddle hasn’t finished setting it up to his standards. Piles of books sit abandoned by the many bookshelves covering one wall, and a fair amount of boxes are open and unopened in each corner.

Harry takes a deep breath and readies to defend himself. He thinks he’s got a pretty reasonable defence (pun intended) for his Defence Professor. Even if the man has heard of Harry through gossip rags like Witch Weekly and the hardly-a-news-source Daily Prophet, Harry figures he’s still got the benefit of the doubt.

Unless, of course, Professor Riddle had strong affiliations during the war. That could always go either way. Harry’s met some pretty chill Voldemort supporters over the years and some pretty not-chill ones. The Malfoys, for instance, treat him like a second son, and Harry’s mostly sure that’s only because they think him the next Dark Lord or something. Whereas Theodore Nott, and probably his whole family, definitely hates Harry’s guts for killing Voldemort.

“Professor Riddle, about what happened earlier, I can explain—“ Harry starts and is near immediately cut off.

“You’re quite gifted in spell casting, aren’t you, Mr Potter?” Professor Riddle leans back and crosses his legs, hands in his lap. Okay…he doesn’t look like he’s about to get Harry expelled… And is that a compliment?

“Uh,” Harry stutters. He’s still not good with praise; it’s still so foreign to him. “I wouldn’t use that word, Professor. But thank you.”

Professor Riddle shakes his head, “It is nothing to thank me for if it is a fact. When I was accepted for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, I first requested a list of all the students and their academic placements.” He pauses to shuffle the papers around on his desk until he pulls out one long parchment, “Four years straight, you held the top of the list in Defence for your year, and your Ordinary Wizarding Levels were exemplary even though you appear to have barely scraped by in fifth-year with a Dreadful.”

Professor Riddle glances up at Harry with a world-weary look, “I have speculations about why you placed so low the last two years. A Troll for sixth-year? With the casting I saw? Highly unlikely.”

Harry blinks, “Oh,” is all he can muster. Welp, that answers how much of the duel Professor Riddle had seen. And, surely he didn’t have all the Hogwarts students’ placements memorised so thoroughly? Is it just his seventh-year classes? Is it just Harry?

For the first time all evening, Harry is struck with the sudden question: why was Professor Riddle in a random seventh-floor corridor, anyway?

Now, Harry can say what he likes about paranoid people being paranoid. Unfortunately, it didn’t mitigate the fact that Harry was a touch paranoid himself. And, even though Professor Riddle hasn’t come off as anything less than concerned-professor-addressing-his-student, Harry still hasn’t quite gotten over that prickle of danger back with Grey Lady. It would be absolutely batty to think Professor Riddle was following him, or whatever, but now that Harry’s thought about it, he can’t stop thinking about it.

“That is just Defence. You have placed consistently in the top 10 of almost all your other classes since you arrived at Hogwarts,” Professor Riddle rolls up the parchment and sets it aside. “Divination and you do not seem to agree, however.”

Harry can’t tell if Riddle is impressed, surprised, or both. Honestly, he’s kind of busy scoping out any easy exit points now that he’s spiralling down the my-new-defence-professor-might-be-stalking-me rabbit hole. Harry lets out a strained laugh and hopes that’s enough of an answer.

“You appear to be a bright young man, so why did you feel the need to fight six Gryffindor students after curfew, Mr Potter?”

Indignant, Harry decides to shelf his panic attack for later, “I didn’t feel the need. This is a yearly thing they like to do. They’ve decided they are within their rights to punish me for my audacity to sort Slytherin when I was eleven and enjoy cornering me during my prefect rounds.”

Riddle arches his brow, “This has been going on for years?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve not gone to your Head of House?”

Harry nearly scoffs, “Snape and I do not get along.”

“Professor Snape, Mr Potter,” Riddle’s amused smile is back in full force.

Harry presses his lips into a thin line and counts backwards from ten. Twice. “Of course, sir. Professor Snape and I do not get along. He tolerates me on the best of days and probably plans out my murder in vivid detail on the worst.”

Peeves may love Harry’s father. Snape decidedly didn’t. Hardly fair, if anyone asked him, that he has to take Snape’s shitty abuse just because he looks like a man he’s never met.

Riddle nods and tilts his head. He’s silent for a moment before he asks, “And do you like Slytherin House?”

It’s such an out-of-left-field question that Harry gapes for a moment. He pulls himself together enough to give it some serious thought. Does he like being a Slytherin? He’s never been anything else, so it’s hard to say. It was pretty shitty in the beginning. Being ostracised for doing something he didn’t even remember or know about until a month before school while also adjusting to a totally new concept like magic being real was kind of awful. And he wouldn’t recommend it. Still—

“Yes,” Harry answers passionately and wholeheartedly. “I love it. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

And he means it. Because even though first-year had its fair share of torture, it was also magic. It was walls that opened with a whispered word revealing a room with a sea-floor view and green velvet sofas, it was his very own room after years of sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, it was his first friend and his first laugh, it was wands and potions and spells and charms and magic.

Riddle does seem surprised now, as though he expected Harry to give a very different answer. His quiet turns thoughtful for a long, long while, and Harry wonders how long their meeting will drag out. It’s well after curfew and prefect hours now, isn’t it?

A dragging sound pulls them both from their silence.

Harry’s eyes quickly lock on a stack of precariously stacked boxes. They move slightly as though pushed and wobble dangerously. After a few moments of nothing, a large snake head appears from around its corner.

And that answers Harry’s question about the empty vivarium in the classroom.

The snake’s scales against the stone floor are what make the dragging sound as it carefully moves closer and closer to Harry. A quick glance at Riddle shows that he has no intentions of stopping it; great. In fact, that amusement is far too obvious once again.

Belatedly Harry realises the snake is sort of massive, far longer than any snake he’s ever seen. Including that one ball python at the zoo. The snake’s body gracefully adjusts as it creeps up and up and up until its head is level with Harry’s. A cool forked tongue quickly brushes against his cheek. Harry blinks, wide-eyed.

“Excuse Nagini, Mr Potter. She’s just curious.”

Harry knows he shouldn’t say anything. He knows it’s too risky to reply because he can’t quite control his parseltongue in front of snakes, but he can’t just sit here and not say anything. He’s still trying to get out of expulsion and maybe even a few detentions, after all. So he looks very hard at Riddle and desperately hopes the man won’t act too cruel if Harry slips up, “It’s-s fine, s-sir.”

Harry winces. Even he can tell his s sounds were a little too harsh just then, and Riddle’s brown eyes sharpen at the curious drag of his voice.

Riddle leans forward, elbows on the desk, hands clasped together, and tilts his head. “That’s right. As a Slytherin, you must not mind snakes. Comes with the territory?”

“You could,” Harry swallows, “s-ay that.” He grits his teeth. Hope is a lie. He needs to get out of here.

Somehow Riddle leans ever so closer, “It’s interesting. I was under the impression that her presence here might cause a great disturbance. Headmaster Dumbledore was very worried about student safety and their reactions.”

Harry pauses. His eyes drift back over to Nagini. What? Wait, “Student safety?”

Suddenly Riddle is up and standing. It startles Harry more than he’ll ever admit, and while he’s distracted by that, Nagini rests her large head on his shoulder and inches her way behind his neck, “A speaker? You speak parseltongue, young child?”

Riddle quickly rounds to the front of his desk, his fingers tapping a pleasant little rhythm across it. He finds a comfortable spot and casually leans back against it, arms crossed. Harry’s thigh is almost brushing the long line of Riddle’s legs. Harry wants to die, just a little.

“Mr Potter, Harry,” Riddle says his name like a curse and a blessing and very, very different from how he’s been saying it all evening. A chill runs down Harry’s spine.

Nagini interrupts before Riddle can continue, “Are you cold, young child? Tom, the boy is cold. Warm him.”

“My snake seems rather taken with you, Harry,” Riddle carries on, completely ignoring Nagini and her demands. Which makes sense because Riddle doesn’t speak parseltongue, but Harry is sorely tempted to laugh at how she sounds so used to bossing Riddle around. He doesn’t scream doting pet owner, but maybe Harry’s got a bad read on him. Or maybe the fear and adrenalin are making Harry fucking crazy.

And when did he become Harry and not Mr Potter?

Harry coughs, focusing all his attention on Riddle once more, “Cool. What concern did Dumbledore have for the children?” Nailed it.

Riddle’s answering smile is large and closed-lipped. He’s not laughing, but it sure as hell feels like he is. “Headmaster Dumbledore, Harry. And it is nothing to worry about, as I have taken measures to keep you all safe. Nagini just happens to be rather poisonous; her venom is capable of killing a man in less than a minute.”

Huh. Harry suddenly doesn’t feel all too thrilled about having Riddle’s rather large, potentially man-killing, and weirdly mothering snake getting all cosy on his shoulders. Even now, she’s still hissing nonsense words of concern and praise, and really, Harry’s not been paying too close attention to her out of fear of messing up again.

Harry nods as slowly and carefully as possible. “I get why he’d be a little worried.”

Riddle hums, not necessarily agreeing, not necessarily disagreeing. “Back to our original topic, I will not be reporting your altercation with the Gryffindors.”

The fierce surprise waging a three-way war with suspicion and hope in Harry’s chest is enough to leave him breathless. How the hell did he get this lucky? “Thank you, I really appreciate it—“ Harry stops himself from adding an instinctual sir.

Harry sits uncomfortably in the realisation that Riddle is definitely laughing at him as Riddle’s brows inch up. Harry sighs and says, “s-sir.” He clears his throat.

“Apologies, Harry. It is quite late, is it not? I wouldn’t want to keep you; the term officially starts tomorrow, after all.” Riddle straightens up from his lean, and he’s closer now than he’s ever been to Harry.

“One last thing,” Riddle says, and his hands curl around either side of Harry’s neck. Harry is dizzy in the stifling nearness. Riddle’s not touching him, but the warmth radiating off his body and hands burns until Harry is certain there’ll be blisters.

Riddle carefully takes Nagini from her perch on Harry and wraps her gently across his own shoulders, “In exchange for my silence, I expect us to meet here once a week. Outside of our class time. I shall wait until you get your timetable before picking something suitable for us both.”

Harry’s eyes are glued to the floor when he says, “Yeah. Okay.”

“Harry.”

Harry’s neck whips up at breaking speed, and for just a split second, hardly a blink, Riddle’s eyes are a scolding red.

Harry blinks once, twice, three whole times before he manages a desperate, “Yes, Professor Riddle.”

Riddle’s answering smile is the cat’s canary, and Harry certainly feels like prey to a predator right now.

[alpaca-clouds]

Dungeons & Dragons - Or: Why Capitalism Sucks at Making Money

If this past year managed anything, it managed to get me really into DnD. Before I did not play DnD much, rather going with Shadowrun or (heavily homebrewed) World of Darkness. But with first Honor Among Thieves releasing - and then Baldur's Gate 3 giving me brainworms tadpoles... Yeah, hurray. New hyperfixation unlocked.

But as I started to read through all the lore, but also meta stuff happening around it. And yes, I quickly understood why basically everyone was frustrated with Hasbro and Wizards of the Coast. But I also think, that this betrays one of the big issues with capitalist logic and how it often fails to reach an audience - for the reason I outlined before: capitalists are actually super bad at realizing what works and why, because they only judge based on spread sheets.

And yes, the headline is hyperbolic. But let me explain.

A Community-Based Game

I mean, the biggest scandal of DnD this year was probably the entire thing about the community license. And this is very much something that shows quite well, how bad WotC is at recognizing why DnD works and has worked so long.

DnD centrally has been build around this idea of community. Now, mind you: This community was very, very focused on cis white guys for the longest time, but everybody else just managed to get in there and make their own little bit of community. Which also lead to a lot of homebrew stuff, that at times tackled some issues that the rules themselves did not address at all or not well. The combat wheelchair is probably the best known example of this.

But even outside of marginalized communities... DnD always thrived through the community aspect itself. People self-publishing magazines and adventures for it since the fucking 70s. As well as play sets, dice and what-have-you. DnD was always very much about all this and thrived through it. And now in came WotC saying: "Oh, yeah, actually you will now have to give us a big cut. (The big irony was, how Unity made the same move later on.) The fandom outcry was obviously big, there was a boycot, it worked. And WotC went all:

Of course they basically won the world competition in backpaddling (though again, Unity was a big contender this year as well) and quickly went back on this. But of course there is a problem: When your entire product is so much build around community and your community starts mistrusting you, you got a problem.

And this is basically what happened.

The Audience Problem

There is another problem of course. Financially the DnD movie failed - and I actually think this says a lot about how WotC kinda misunderstands the audience.

Now, there will be people trying to tell you, that given that the movie had great reviews and stuff. But the movie had a production budget of 150 million USD and only earned a bit more than 200 million on worldwide box office. Given that the marketing budget was likely around 30 million, the movie barely broke even.

Of course, part of the reason for it was that it just had a bad release date. It released parallel to the Super Mario movie, which ended up being one of the most successful movies of this year.

A friend of mine could not believe that the movie had financially flopped. They were like: "What the hell? Literally everyone I know who watched the movie went to cinema like three times to see it again." But... Yeah, that is true. But the issue is that these people are a very certain group.

Because lets make one thing clear: The people, who adored the movie so much, that they went to the cinema several times and bought the DVD/BluRay on release... were mostly queer nerds. Because this is the group of people who this movie spoke to.

And let's make this clear: I love the movie for this. I love that it so clearly went for this audience. Because I am part of this audience - and I adore this film.

But basically the movie has a general issue in terms of audience. Because on one hand the movie is too nerdy to have a wider audience appeal of people who had never played DnD, while on the other hand the movie was kinda not nerdy enough to go full force for the nerd audience.

A lot of people in the fandom have instantly sussed out one thing about the movie: "Why doesn't Edgin cast any spells? And why do we see so little of the weirder species?" And part of the reason undoubtedly was budget related. But the other reason is that... well, it is currently a well accepted wisdom in media production that you cannot sell a high-magic story. At least not outside of animated media.

Hence... There is surprisingly little magic being cast in this. And we also do have a mostly human main cast - or why Doric is the most classically pretty tiefling you have seen with her human skin tone and all of that. Because media productions do not trust the audience to accept high magic concepts.

Who is DnD actually for?

Okay, let me talk a bit about DnD 5e - and a good decision, and a bad decision. And how that affected DnD.

Everyone, who is somewhat into DnD probably knows that 5e massively changed the game. With one simple goal: Make it more accessible. Which manifested in several ways.

For one, the game was in some ways made less offensive. Because prior to 5e there was a ton of racism, sexism, queerphobia and ableism inherent to the game rules and times to the game lore. This is just a fact. Things like species that are inherently evil and stuff like that - and also some of the real-life racial coding inherent to some of the species. Removing all that stuff is a good thing. Like amazingly good.

And also, they made the rules a lot more accessible. Before the rules were bogged down with a lot of stuff, that was simplified or removed. Again, this is a good thing.

And this worked. It worked really well. Of course, this was also partly due to stuff like Critical Role and other actual plays like that happening and promoting the game. The player base probably increased ten-fold from what it was before.

Yes, it should also be noted that there is probably a good topic for a study on how formerly nerd-thingies became more and more mainstream during the last 10 years or so, but yes, DnD was one of those things.

But in this there was also a rather bad decision made, which ironically also mirrors what happened with Marvel. And this decision is: Because we want to reach a wider audience, every single thing we release for this has to reach the widest audience possible - rather than allowing that certain things might have a more specific audience.

I am sorry to talk about the MCU here, but it is just such a perfect example of this: The MCU basically made two mistakes. Overwhelming their audience with too many releases. But also not allowing the movies to be for a certain audience, but for the broadest audience possible. A good example is how they dealt with the minority-lead movies. They got directors and at times even writers from that minority - but then basically did not allow them to be too specific and be too critical of, for example, a racist system because that might not go over too well with white mainstream audiences.

Now, WotC did not really do anything like that. But they also went with this idea that everything they officially released should have the broadest possible appeal. Hence the weirdly low-magic approach to the movie, of which I assume that it definitely was an executive decision made.

The fact that the movie resonated so much with the queers more than anyone else was also not intended - at least not from the production company. Like, let's be honest. No, Xenk and Ed were not supposed to be read as romantic. And how appealing the found family trope was, probably was not intented at least on the side of Hasbro (not sure about screenwriters and director).

The Lore Problem

This perfectly connects to one of the big issues that all the franchises going for a broad appeal after being very nerd-focused for so long, run into: The Lore Problem. And this is quite ironic, because I ran into the problem earlier this year as well.

See, as I was writing fanfics for DnD:HAT I quickly ran into the problem that I knew next to nothing about the world of Faerûn. Sure, once upon a time (like between 2007 and 2011, while I was living in Austria with my then-boyfriend, who really was into those games) I played the old games of Neverwinter Nights and Baldur's Gate 1 + 2. But let's be frank: I barely remember shit from those games. And getting to understand what actually happened in the lore between and after... Well, there is just a ton of lore. I mean, people are playing around with this world for literal decades. So, yeah. This can very much be overwhelming for someone getting into it anew. Like, where can someone new even start?

The fact that - at least partly for legal reasons - most of the Actual Plays also do not work with the official lore, rather just using the rules to create their own worlds, obviously adds to this. Even the tables I played on so far always preferred original worlds, because the lore of DnD is just very intimidating.

The one thing that actuall ended up getting me into the lore was BG3, because it left open just the right questions to go into the Forgotten Realms wiki and just look for stuff, before also starting to listen to lore podcasts.

But here is the thing: WotC is also not helping with this issue. Like, they absolutel could create a proper accessible compendium on DnDBeyond that would just allow people to get an overview of the world and the timeline of things happening, maybe go into some of the major factions of the world and such. I mean, heck, they really, really want you to use DnD-Beyond rather than roll20. Yet, in DnD-Beyond I do not even have a monster compendium without paying, which roll20 offers.

Like, sure, WotC, it is okay to lock up the adventure modules behind a paywall, no problem. But if you do give me even the most basic tools to run a campaign, I am gonna use roll20, thank you very much.

But yeah, what WotC should make just more accessible was just: Timeline, important places and the maps (heck, make them interactive, you have the fucking money), maybe also a proper list of the pantheons and factions within the world. Heck, add maybe some inspiration there for what players might want to do within one of the scenarios and then, under this, go and link "hey, we made this one adventure about this, if you are interested!"

Something I did not realize originally was how much freedom the lore still leaves the people. Like, often even the important settings and events are just set-ups for adventures that the characters can have in there. There might be a few novels or comics then, that go into an example of a thing certain established characters like Drizzt or Elminster did during the time, but there is a ton of freedom to explore.

But by basically locking everything up behind a paywall, you will never get people even interested in this kinda stuff.

Because here is the thing: I like my lore. I love lore. I adore lore. But... Without BG3 explaining some stuff and giving me specific questions to ask about it, the lore would have been very inaccessible to me.

Just think of people as... people

Of course among it all there lies the central problem that comes with capitalism running something like this. See, whatever CEOs and shareholders are sitting on those chairs with WotC and Hasbro, they do not see the players as players or the community as a community, but as consumers. Just as they see their employees not as valued constributors, but very exchangable wage slaves.

They do not see the value of the community exchange with stuff like fanmade modules and things. While incorporating a bit of homebrew stuff in DnD Beyond, they are absolutely not interested in the wider market of people just creatively interacting with DnD and making a little bit of money from it. If anything they see those people as potential rivals on the market.

Heck, they have issues seeing things like Critical Role or Roll20 as the enrichment for the franchise that either are - but more like potential rivaling forces and money they have lost.

And their employees? Yeah, as we learned... Most people who from the side of WotC helped the Larian team with BG3 have been let go by now. Because WotC and Hasbro do not care for their employees, they only care about having some numbers going up.

I fully admit it. Apart from Buying BG3 and the money I have invested in anything DnD:HAT related, the only money that WotC got from me, was some of the novels I bought on Audible.

But here is the thing: WotC is doing a shite job at wanting me to invest into any of their stuff. Partly because those modules I would like to have are not available anywhere anyway - and partly because... As I said, give me a reason to get something, rather than just expecting me to randomly get something.

And mind you, this is no slight against any of the people just working for WotC. This is mostly about shareholder and executive decisions made. Stuff that basically just sees either their employers or the players just as a ressource to exploit, rather than... people.

[tr3xinfinite]

Ok so finally here's my opinion about the Jim/Troll!Jim situation

I'm gonna try to be fast so maybe i will left a few details

First of all what i think about him becoming a Troll?

I think it was a great twist, not many shows are brave enough to make a whole almost permanent change in the MCs like TH did, Amphibia, The Owl House, Gravity Falls, Avatar, etc. I can't think of many shows where at the end the mc is forced to sacrifice his humanity and his normal life in order to gain a bigger power enough to save the people he loves (not to mention the bathtub scene is actually a MASTERPIECE of scene) hell even 3Below and Wizards didn't do this

Could have been executed better? Mmm maybe if Jimhunters was actually a Part 1/2 episode and Angor Reborn was adapted so we could have more screentime to Tol boi and his development

Do i think what Merlin did was right? I'm gonna be kinda gray but he was and at the same time not right, he destroyed Jim's life since the moment the amulet was held into his hands or should i say the peak of the iceberg (cause everything went downhill since Angor's debut) but at the same time he got a point, Jim's humanity was his biggest help it was his heart what tied into all the people he helped and who helped him, but that wasn't enough, his humanity started being his weakness by the end of Season 2 if Jim battled a whole Gumm-Gumm army + Gunmar + Angor + Morgana yeah he definetly couldn't have make it, Angor only died cause he sacrificed himself, Morgana was throw into another dimension and not exactly killed and Gumm-Gumms were gone along with Gunmar, but almost all of that was possible thanks to Jim's sacrifice, damn even one of the comics shows and alternate timeline where Jim dies in the eternal night

And i think that was an unavoidable situation, Merlin practically manipulated Jim to make 1 choice not 2, the Deep showed a Non-human Jim (not exactly TrollJim but maybe a glimpse of him) and there's also the amount of foreshadowing around it, and i don't think the line "Don't worry mom, you don't need to protect me, i think this is what i was meant to do" in the transformation scene was a random choice of words hell even Hunter Jim warned him.

Do i think Guillermo didn't have enough balls to let him be a troll for the whole franchise? Mmmm no, if Guillermo really didn't have balls to do it he wouldn't even turned Jim into a troll to begin with besides where talking about the same madman who make Wizards a whole kill count of 10 episodes

Now for the point i wanna talk here is

what do i think about Jim turning back to human?

Let's do one thing first, separate Human Jim from Troll Jim as if they were different characters

Human Jim was the original Jim a happy boy who was happy to help his mama, hang with his friends and tried his beat into saving humankind and trollkind while trying not to skip school days

TrollJim was the most depressed and conflicted state Jim was in his life, he couldn't go in the sunlight, couldn't eat human food, was separated from his friends only having Claire and Blink, was almost killed by the Green Knight, locked in a crystal by Merlin, the shard was aiming for his heart, he got to fight another war while being phisically at his most painful state and then he knew that no matter what he tries the Onyx will eventually kill him which leads me to believe that maybe Jim turning into a full Troll to fight Arthur was an attemp to do a "Suicide by Cop"

Human Jim was the warrior he became a new "light" for all the earth, Troll Jim was the warrior Merlin wanted him to be he "eclipsed" himself

TrollJim's main reason to exist was to kill Gunmar, Angor and Morgana and save everyone from the Eternal Night, notice how after killing Gunmar and after Angor's death TrollJim was slowly "dying" when he meet Arthur.

Then he turns himself into Beast Jim turning into a pseudo Gumm-Gumm, Jim was at his most feral, confused and most uncontrolable state, even his soul ended up corrupted, the happy Jim and tragically heroic TrollJim that we knew died in that moment all what's left was "that beast"

And what happens after Morgana (the last reminisence of the eternal night, the reason why TrollJim was born) dies not so after Jim also dies, notice what i'm trying to say? Born to defeat Gunmar, Angor and Morgana? And just after Morgana's death he finally dies too? I'm not trying to say that Jim needed Morgana to die to be human again what i'm trying to say is that with M finally dead he's free from the Eternal Night, Human Jim came back and is now with his friends a second chance his "resurrection".

After all that suffering, being born to fight a war and being turned into a monster TrollJim can finally rest in peace and leave the rest to Human Jim

I see this whole thing as a rebirth of Jim and as a way to let TrollJim rest cause he could finally ended his purpose (even if he wasn't exactly the one who killed Morgana)

For an example to this i have Ken Kaneki and Haise Sasaki, the same being but not the same person, Haise was just a happy dream of Ken and once he finally accepted that, he "died" and let Kaneki regain his body, the difference is that the Ken and Haise thing was literal while the Jim and TrollJim thing is more of my POV (now you get why i used Haise and Kaneki as a reference for the fan art)

But anyways that's just my opinion, but everyone can have their own interpretations

So in short: Jim regaining his humanity was like a second chance of living while TrollJim dying was a way to set him free