#i want to compare potions ingredients to see which one reacts with what to do what

[mould-corner]

honestly, in terms of harry potter games, i desperately want one that’s just… going around the school and learning magic, yknow?

like, the only one ive played a bit is hogwarts mystery (on mobile) but ive looked at the other options and they all focused on more on the story than the classes. which like, makes sense, if youre making a game you want it to be a game, but also i just want to do magic school and learn how everything works.

i am such a sucker for magic theory and every day life as a wizard in general, i know there’s stuff like hogwartsishere online that has versions of lessons but that’s not a game. its better than nothing but i am still dying of want to just guide a lil guy around a magic castle learning magic and holing up in a library.

i dont want plot i want school

[fortisfiliae]

Promised Part 15 - Tom Riddle x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

A/n: This chapter is written from Tom’s pov. Reader will be addressed in third person.

Warnings: Arranged marriage

Word count: 2k

Part 15 - A Dagger for a Devotee

Now that all of the ingredients for the antidote were gathered and added, the potion was as good as finished. It just had to simmer on for a while. If the instructions were correct, it would be finished on June 29th, which was the last day of school. Graduation day. One day before the wedding. 

The wedding. Tom thought about it a lot. It would happen. That, he knew. The plan was to give Elsie the antidote on their wedding day so that she would be completely healed and they could still keep a low profile towards Marvolo and Morfin. Their wish would be fulfilled then, and even if the Gaunts were going to ask for more, they wouldn’t know that Elsie wasn’t under their might anymore. Tom was sure they were going to try to pressure him by threatening to hurt Elsie someday, even when he was married. That was just in their nature. They would never be satisfied.

He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that she had been healed. Weeks, months, years? And how they would react then. Were they going to take out their anger on him? The more he thought about it, the less he cared. He had even fantasised about it if he was honest. That Marvolo would lose his temper and would attack him. Tom had waited so long for an excuse to pay his Grandfather back, his fingers were itching just thinking about it. Oh, the things he would like to do to him were unspeakable and the grin on his face only widened the longer he envisioned them. He would welcome the opportunity with open arms. 

Some nights, when he lay awake and couldn’t just fall asleep yet, Tom wondered if his life would have been different, if he would have turned out to be another person, had he not been brought up by the Gaunts. He didn’t wish for it, like his fiancée had mentioned so often, no, but he still couldn’t help but wonder. Was there a possibility for a different Tom Riddle to exist? One that would live with parents, one that wasn’t as cold and narrow-minded, one that could crack a real good joke to his friends? A funny, warm, kind version of him? His stomach squirmed at the thought. Disgusting. 

He could have turned out like Benjamin Hilt. Merlin’s sake, what a nightmare that would be. To act like him, so loud and bothersome. Head in the clouds, mouth always open and never thinking about any consequences. Hilt had it so easy. But nevertheless, Ben’s attitude was intriguing. Annoying yes, but intriguing. Tom wouldn’t have thought Hilt would be able to keep his muggleborn mouth shut and keep the pact a secret, but he hadn’t told anyone about it yet, as far as Tom was aware. And he didn’t seem to keep his word out of fear, but rather out of belief. Ben wasn’t the type to have deep thoughts, by the looks of it at least, but he had his priorities set. And for that Tom respected him. Everything Ben did seemed to come so easily from within, not wasting one too many thoughts. It was something so deeply ingrained that it must have come naturally. 

He was so different compared to Tom’s friends. Or whatever word one would use for people like Avery, Lestrange and the others. They were nothing more than followers, blind and mindless. They wouldn’t just offer their help to be a good person. They always wanted something in return, even if it was just Tom’s recognition. And he knew, if someone else were to take his place, they would drop him in an instant. Their loyalty was superficial and egoistic. Just as his own. He would drop them too if someone more useful were to show up and solicit themselves. 

That was how it always had been. How he had thought friendships were meant to be. A mutual agreement, quite similar to business. Be polite, make use of a person as much as you can, make sure they’re intimidated enough to keep their knowledge to themselves and wish them well on their way out. Simple, beneficial and most importantly efficient. 

But what his fiancée, Ben and Camille had was so different. He had waited for Camille and Ben to ask for something in return. Weeks had gone by, where he had anticipated for them to come up and ask for a favour. A note from the head boy to get out of detention, or something else. But they hadn’t. They had helped to steal the Banshee tears and were still tending to the potion in the Come and Go Room every day. For nothing? He couldn’t fathom it at first, and only when he thought about it again, it came to his mind that this could be what real friendship was like. 

He didn’t like how much it churned him, how much consideration it had taken to come to this conclusion, when apparently for other people, that was the most natural thing in the world.

Tom obtained a much greater deal of wit than Ben, without a doubt, but yet, Hilt possessed so much more emotional intelligence than Tom could ever dream of. And he was jealous of him. That Ben could just walk through life, listen to his gut and trust that whatever it would tell him would be with good intent. Tom could have made real friends too then. He could have developed that trust to his gut too, if he hadn’t been fed those vicious thoughts by the Gaunts his whole life. He could have even gotten to know a muggle for all he knew, if he hadn’t been told, day after day, how worthless and irrelevant they were. That’s what they had always said. But the Gaunts had lied so often, maybe they had lied about that too. He had believed them for so long that he couldn’t even tell which opinion was his own and which one had been planted in his head by someone else. 

And then came three people who acted against all his values, showing him a glimpse of what life could be like. Everything he knew, his view of the world, as well as his belief, had collapsed in a matter of months. He had learned so many new things, he wasn’t even sure if he knew himself anymore. 

Had he changed? He must have, somehow at least. It was ironic, how the Gaunts’ plan to marry him off to a pureblood witch, who they thought would bring their family safety and respect, turned out to result in the complete opposite. Nothing, not even Marvolo’s paranoia and obsession for being a step ahead had come of use. They all had turned against them in the end, and for what? The faint idea of power and reputation? What worth did those things even have when everyone who bowed down to you only did so out of fear? They would take the first chance they got to stab you in the back with the very dagger you had given them. If you can’t trust your devotees, why bother?

Trust was something he thought of a lot, too. Did someone truly trust him? His fiancée for instance. She had put her faith in his hands several times in the past, yes. But would she trust him with her life? Had he done enough to earn her deepest trust yet? Or would she let him fall too when the opportunity arrived? When the deal was sealed, her sister was free and the Gaunts were powerless. Would she leave him, or would she stay? It kept him up at night when he thought about being alone again. Not because he depended on someone to be there, he was fine on his own. But he couldn’t change the fact that he wanted her to stay. And only her. No one else would do.

No one else had ever awoken that part of him before. That part that wasn’t as selfish, as calculating and cautious. And he knew no one else could. There was something about her, that slight brush of a hand when she touched him, or that unintentional notion of a smile she wore so often that broke out a whirlwind of emotion inside of him again and again. And he still didn’t even know what it was that he felt. It was nerve-racking, this mixture of nervousness, excitement and joy. If he had been able to, he would have buried those feelings long ago, deep down somewhere where they could have never disturbed him again. But he hadn’t. And he was glad about that. No matter how irritating it was, he craved it now. 

He craved to see her as often as possible, the sound of her voice, the touch of her fingers on him. Her mind, her body and everything in between had him longing, thirsting for even more proximity. He ached for that bond so much, it had become a hassle and he needed to suppress it to prevent himself from shying her away. 

But it was hard to feign composure when all he wanted was right there before him and she was so willing to accept his bid. It took all his might not to do what he most wanted and lock her up in a golden cage, where she would remain for him alone. His secret, his very own jewel. But most importantly his.

He couldn’t do that to her, he knew, she wouldn’t allow it. And he wouldn’t dare. He would never dare to add imbalance to the fragile structure they had built over the last year. She had come back to him eventually, day by day. He just needed to remind himself of that. Wait and improve his patience. Trust that she desired him as much as he did her. And by all accounts, she must have. Why else would she treat him the way she did? The idealist in him feasted on the way she acted towards him. How fearless and comfortable she was. How her mood could swing from gentle to feisty in a second, never dreading his reaction. Her honesty, which was the easiest, as well as the hardest thing to give someone, was what he most cherished her for.

Never before had he experienced something so close to perfection. The purity of emotion, so vibrant and raw it nearly hurt. But its absence was even worse, like a bottomless hole that sucked him in and ate him up from the inside. He had become addicted to the feeling and he would do anything to keep it. 

He would marry her, yes, and willingly so. He would do anything she asked from him. But if she was to leave him then, if she would take that dagger and push it into his heart, he knew it would destroy him.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Masterpost | Masterlist

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[bloodypapercut]

common people (g.w. x reader)

hi loves! i’ve been listening to pulp so much and everytime common people plays i immediately think of george so i wanted to write something. i hope you all enjoy! <3

(requests are open)

word count: 2.8k

No prank, no act of mischief, no joke had ever managed to coerce the feelings that resided within George at that moment. The memory had been playing in his head for weeks since that day in Hogsmeade. The vivid image of her nose and cheeks dusted pink as snowflakes landed in her hair, her hand gripping at paper bag from Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop, and her hair whipping around her. He was consumed by her being, she radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that George had never felt from a complete stranger. She intrigued him in every imaginable way, he wanted to know everything about her, each sense in his body was heightened simply by being in her wake. It was the way she carried herself, something about it just seemed so different and enticing. He contemplated going up to her, but he knew with Fred right by his side it would not end well. So he watched from afar, unaware of Fred repeatedly kicking snow in his direction, a mediocre attempt on his behalf to capture his attention so they could go to Zonko’s.

It was breakfast, the bustle of knives and forks against plates, teaspoons against teacups, and the early morning chatter saturated with frivolous morning civility integrated into the usual dissonance of the great hall. George couldn’t bother to act interested in the conversation Fred and Lee tried to reel him into, whatever it was they were talking about was insipid compared to what he had in mind. Pushing around the strawberries on his plate with his fork, his head lulled against his palm, an attempt to subtly survey the room in order to find that girl from all those weeks ago. He’d seen her roaming the halls occasionally, or sitting hunched over a book quietly scribbling on a piece of parchment, or speaking in hushed tones to her housemates, none of it had helped his undying curiosity. She plagued his thoughts, he could relate almost anything to her somehow, despite the fact he had not once spoken to her. She was an enigma and he wanted nothing more than to know everything about her, to learn every habit, every favorite, and every detail.

He brought his cup of orange juice closer to his lips but as he looked around the room once again he saw her. She was leaving the great hall, a leather bag hanging on her shoulder loosely and a pile of books resting against her hip. There it was, that overwhelming cloak of emotions resting on his shoulders once again. Without thinking he rushed to her, no plan present in his mind.

“Hey, hi.” He panted, planted his hand against a pillar trying to catch his breath. She spun quickly, nearly dropping her books. As her gaze cast down at the hunched boy, she wondered what on earth he was doing saying hi to her, or if it was even directed at her.

“Hello? Um are you alright, you look a little red?”

“All for you love.” He winked, still struggling to steady his respiration. Her laugh was just as awkward as the situation and she tried her hardest to divert her attention to anything but the ginger in front of her. The crumbling stone walls, the rusty nails that the portraits hung on, the ornate handles on the classroom doors, she tried but she couldn’t. Because she was just as enthralled by his presence as he was with hers.

“I’ve seen you around.”

“So have I, Weasley.” She smiled warmly, an attempt to alleviate the tension.

“Is that right?”

“Indeed it is.” Another moment of uncomfortable silence followed.  

“Well, um anyway I was wondering if you’d like to go to the lake together sometime? If you want that is don’t feel pressured to say yes just because I asked you, it’s completely okay if you don’t-”

“Hey, calm down, yeah sure I don’t see why not.” The weight of her hand felt right against his forearm and he wanted to hold it in place forever, he grinned bashfully at her hand, which didn’t go unnoticed as she had squeezed his arm upon seeing his line of sight.

“4?”

“4.” She nodded before letting go of his arm and walking off, not bothering to glance over her shoulder.

After that afternoon together they became inseparable. Their lives orbit around the other and they learned everything there was to know about their partner, well almost. There was one thing she had kept from him, something that would normally be considered frivolous but in their case was quite the contrary. She hadn’t revealed that she was a part of the Rosier family, a pureblood family, similar to the Malfoys or the Blacks. Though she was treated with nothing but disdain for being a 'traitor' by her relatives, she was still technically a Rosier. She felt wrong for keeping it from him, but she never let that convince her to divulge her secret. She tried convincing herself that it wasn’t important, that it didn’t change anything. But she knew it did, it changed everything. No matter how many times she tried to delude herself, the intrusive thoughts that never stopped urging her to tell him continued their unabating blathering. Though she knew she never acted like them or shared their mentality, she knew how it would come across and she knew how George would react. A member of the Rosier family, a family known for possessing ostentatious pride due to their pureblood status dating someone part of a family deemed to be a stain on the sacred 28. Y/N was scared to lose everything she had with George, she was too afraid of the unknown so she kept it from him for as long as she could. That was a mistake, a huge one.

Everything seemed to be fine but one afternoon, when Y/N found that George wasn’t where they had agreed to meet she grew concerned. Her footsteps echoed as she ran to his dorm, worried he was hurt or in trouble.

“I know.”

“What are you talking about Georgie.” Her laughs were forced and stiff, she found it unusual for him to be so solemn. But as his shoulders deflated and his back hunched over his book she knew something was wrong, and she knew what it was. Before he could utter a single word she had already started berating herself in her head. How could one be so selfish? So inconsiderate and dull?

“You never told me? Why didn’t you ever tell me?” The incessant beating of her heart filled her ears, almost deafening her and making her unable to hear George’s voice, the voice that was usually filled with joy now sounded devastated and tumultuous. Tears had already threatened to cascade both of their cheeks and it was just a matter of time before someone started weeping.

“I didn’t think it mattered, I just wa-”

“But it does matter. It matters so much, are you completely oblivious to how the world works? How unfair it is to people like me? To people in my family? We’re a joke to people like you, so what was this all about?”

“I- George I’m with you because I love you, that’s all I swear. I’m not like them, I’m not.”

“So why'd you hide it then? Why couldn’t you just tell me?” His voice was hushed and fragile, he struggled to keep a steady tone, by instinct he remained stoic but his voice revealed how betrayed he felt.

“I just wanted a simple life, where it didn't matter your last name or your class or your blood purity, I didn’t want this to change our relationship. I wanted to be like everyone else. I want the future we always talk about, I don't care for any of that pureblood mania.”

“No! No you can’t say that not when you’re literally in one of the most prestigious and honored pureblood families. You don’t understand how bloody lucky you are Y/N! Honestly, have you ever realized that? You can do whatever you want and even if you fail you will never fall on your arse, but me, no I can’t do that if I failed I’m fucked. You can get away with anything with a simple call to your father, you can buy your way to the top. Why would you hide this from me? All this time, was I some charity case? Did your family force you to be with me just to get dirt on mine?”

“What? No! George! No...I just didn’t want this to change things and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, I love you so much I was just scared please .”

“You’re just like the rest of them.”

“Oh, I- if that’s what you think, I’ll just leave you be, I’m sorry.” With her head hung low and tears clouding her vision she made haste to locate the doorknob and rush out of his room. She ignored the frantic footsteps and calls of worry from Hermione and Harry as she bulleted out of the common room. She ignored Fred and Lee who were sitting on the bench in a corridor as they scribbled onto sheets of parchment, she ignored Luna who tried to grab her attention, and Cho, and Angelina, and Neville, everyone, she was verklempt and if anyone even gave her a look of sympathy she knew she’d break down in tears.

The rest of the afternoon she stayed quietly in her bed, curled up in a ball with crumpled tissues surrounding her. She felt guilty for crying, she had brought this onto herself. That didn’t stop her though because upon realizing what she had done, the image of George so distraught, so disappointed, plagued her mind and broke her heart even more. It was something that would plague her memories forever. It was ruined, they were ruined.

Days dragged like molasses dripping from a spoon, every walk between class there he’d be, leaning against a pillar while throwing his head back in laughter, or during meal times, his arms flailing as he retold a story about a prank, or in the library his head lulling to the side as he waited for Fred to determine the missing ingredient for a potion they wanted to perfect before selling it. It hurt her, seeing that he was completely fine without her, like everything was normal. He was everywhere, and even if he wasn’t physically, mentally he was. The words rang in her ears again and again ‘you’re just like the rest of them,’ it stung each time it repeated. She was starting to believe that she was just as bad as they are, just as selfish and malevolent and spiteful. It clawed at the abyss of her mind, dragging her entire being into a spiral of endless darkness.

The air was cold, the kind that nipped at all your nose and made it hard to breathe. The walk from Y/N’s potions class to herbology wasn’t pleasant as her fingers turned numb and red. The stone flooring crumbled under her black school shoes as she kicked the pieces that already broke off. She watched as the pebbles ricocheted from the toe of the black vinyl to a slightly elevated stone tile, she’d focus on anything but the things that lingered in her subconscious. It had been working in her favor for the past couple of weeks, or months, she couldn’t really tell, everything blurred into one continuous string of agonizing events. She found herself being unaware of what was in front of her because without even realizing it she bumped directly into the boy she’d been trying to make sure her thoughts were devoid of. On instinct, his arms immediately gripped her forearms and her hands pressed against his chest. Time moved slower than ever as their eyes slowly raked up from where their hands were to the eyes of who they were on. They scrambled from each other, muttering pathetic ‘sorry’s and speed walking with promptitude to opposite ends of the corridor.

The worst part was that no matter how often they tried to steer away from the other, they’d always cross each other's path. It got to the point where they weren’t even trying to hide their yearning to talk, they’d openly send longing stares but would never act on their desires. So much was unsaid and they realized they couldn’t just leave how things were, they had to talk about where they stood. The conclusion of that conversation was unclear and that’s what frightened them the most. The reality was that every day they refused to communicate out of obdurate pride, their relationship became more and more decrepit. George felt doltish and penitent, he didn’t mean what he said, he was hurt, angry and confused. Y/N felt guilty, she hurt the love of her life due to her selfish wishes to avoid confrontation.

It had been about 2 months, 2 agonizing, and treacherous months. George finally cracked, and much like the way things had started between them, he was looking for her in the great hall. He searched, pushing himself up slightly against the table, for any sign of her, anyone who would know where she was. It didn’t take long as he found Luna’s prolific hair, and there she was sitting right next to her. He could see her pushing around the vegetables on the golden plate in front of her, her cheek resting in her palm as a dejected countenance presented itself on her face. It saddened him to see her beautiful face so full of despondency. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to talk to her, he’d gone crazy without her. He abhorred pretending it didn’t phase him when he wasn’t with her, she had become a vital part of his life in such a short time. He knew she meant well. He wanted to fix things, he had to. Swiftly George dug through Ron’s back to grab a piece of parchment and scribbled using the quill Hermione was using, to the both of their dismays. He acted before he could fully process what his plan was because before he knew it he was faced with Y/N. Her eyes widened upon his arrival but before she could think of anything to say he placed the folded piece of parchment in front of her plate and dashed to the Gryffindor table. Dropping her fork she unfolded the parchment and smiled softly at the scraggly writing she adored so much.

'Astronomy Tower at 8?'

-----

She feared that she'd collapse as she feebly made her way up the steps to the astronomy tower. Her gloved hand held the note firmly, hoping that there was still a chance for them to fix everything. As she rounded the corner to ascend the final steps she found George sitting there.

"Y/N, you came" He breathed out, almost in disbelief.

"I'll take any chance to see you again." She mentally berated herself for saying something so sappy, but she noticed his eyes widen and his back straighten slightly.

"You're early."

"So are you."

"Yeah, I- uh yeah. I wanted to make sure I didn't miss you." A heavy silence fell upon them and they bore holes into each other with their apprehensive stares, waiting to see who would speak first.

"I'm sorry." "I'm sorry." They blurted at the same time, but Y/N nodded for him to continue.

"I didn't mean it, any of it. You're nothing like them I know that, just shocked me y'know? I should've never said those cruel, demeaning things to you, I know who you really are and I love you. Merlin, I'm so deeply and madly in love with you, and I really hope I haven't screwed us up. I understand if you don't want to get back together, after everything, but please if there is still a part of you that wants 'us' to happen again, tell me."

She nodded enthusiastically throwing herself into George's direction, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face between his shoulder and neck. He immediately pulled back slightly to grab her face with his hands, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs. He pressed his forehead against hers and smiled so hard his face hurt.

"I meant everything I said, about the future and wanting to spend it with you. My mother and father...they're relatives but not family, they've never felt like home the way that you do." She felt him nod against her forehead. He held her chin between his index and thumb, tilting her head so her lips met his. He ghosted his lips over hers, brushing past them before connecting them softly. The warmth he's always felt ever since he saw her returned, and it cloaked his senses as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. After minutes of fervently compensating for lost time, with roaming hands and whispers or repeated 'i love you's and plans for their future, they pulled apart. Standing in silence in each other's embrace, they knew they'd make it through all the tumultuous times ahead because they had each other.

[theonetheycallhannah]

A Mage’s Beginning-Part One

Summary: Anathema of Velena is sent by the Brotherhood of Sorcerers to a kingdom already decimated by a mighty beast when she happens upon another. One who saves her life…as she saves his.

Pairing: Geralt/OFC (Anathema of Velena)

Word Count: 5k

Rating/Warnings: M for language, discussion of mature themes and situations, alcohol consumption, violence, and reflection on a particularly shitty childhood that could be triggering. Body image triggers. No smut for now. Also, warning that it’s stupid long and only half done! Wow! I’m super sorry! Anathema is kind of a long winded little witch.

Inspiration: Netflix’s The Witcher, that sweet, sweet Cavill bod, and the chocolatey crunch of his “Geralt voice!” (idk why, but that’s the imagery for me. Lol!) Also, Ana inspired by the badassness of Anya Chalotra as Yen, the powerful vulnerability of Anna Shaffer as Triss, and the poise and grace of MyAnna Brunning as Tissaia…I honestly can’t believe that the name Anathema is a total coincidence now. Especially considering that my name…is Hannah, a version of all of these. It just came to me as a cool name.

Author’s Note: Like most of my OFCs (and honestly, even EFCs), Anathema is loosely based on myself. She reacts how I feel I would (or sometimes hope I would) in her situation. For those of you who read “Shape of Her” you’ll know that I’m chubby. Anathema was, as well, before her transformation, and she talks about what it was like for her as a child and adolescent growing up. For me, this was a deeply personal thing to write about. I don’t usually talk about the effect my weight has always had and continues to have on my mental health. I’m very fortunate that, unlike Anathema, I have loving parents that have never treated me this way. But in an odd way, their “help” and concern for my physical health has created this sort of villainous aspect of them in my mind, and I suppose that comes out in Ana’s mother here. At any rate, I should probably go back to a counselor about it, but that’s tough during a pandemic and with my work hours. So I write about it, and I guess there ends up being a bit of validation for her/me when Geralt shows interest (and maybe takes that further in part two...no spoilers here!). Not that any of it’s completely healthy, but at least it’s kinda cathartic and fun in the moment if you don’t think too hard about it. I hope the monologue doesn’t bog you down and make you lose interest. If it does, just skip it. It won’t hurt my feelings.

Also, I’m sure my spells are total baloney compared to what’s in the books and deffo to what’s in the show. I just wanted to write something down to sort of show the power being expelled by Ana. These are probably way more Hogwarts than Aretuza! Lol!

Tag List: @sunflowersstan @mylittlepartofthegalaxy @mstgsmy @lareinedususpense @geekycanuck and @littlefreya (omg it let me tag you this time, Freya!) I didn’t tag some of you that I tagged before in Shape of Her, just because I didn’t know if that was something you wanted. (basically, if I didn’t get a concrete response one way or the other, or I wasn’t fairly sure you’d want a tag, I didn’t tag you. I still love all of you!) Please let me know if you want to be tagged or if you want me not to tag you in things! I will not be offended! Also, this is not smutty. It’s pre-smut. lol!

Anathema of Velena was a mage of little renown. Powerful enough, but nothing compared to someone such as Yennefer of Vengerberg. She had worked so hard at Aretuza and all Rectoress Tissaia de Vries could manage to tell her most days was “You could not organize a pair of gloves, Ana. How do you expect to be able to control chaos? I’m not even convinced you have any chaos in you.” She turned away, calling the five other girls out of the lightning tower, some of whom had ampules filled with crackling white light. The rest were in various states of injury from singes to limps. Anathema…well, she had nothing. The lightning didn’t come near her. She left the tower without a prize, but filled with shame, uninjured from the typical failed attempt. She didn’t know why it was worse, but it very much was.

It took her years to finally get over that day.

Her first assignment the brotherhood sent her on was, well, it hardly mattered now, because the city, the whole kingdom was now rent by some foul beast. She’d been sent to help. But had arrived too late. She heaved one of her deeper sighs. “Fuck.” She let out audibly. She’d have to make camp. For the third night. At least. Maybe it was the fifth. She wasn’t certain. But it seemed like too long. She dismounted her chestnut mare, Clove, and started to get her supplies down for her modest tent. Modest, meaning that it appeared modest to the casual observer.

Inside, however, when she’d cast her enchantments, it was almost like home, complete with a full bed, soaking tub, fireplace, table, chairs, and a lovely lounge with a settee and chaise. One of her favorite things about Magic was being able to pack heavy while still traveling light. She was even able to bring a small book collection.

She’d just finished setting everything up and was casting the necessary protective enchantments to the perimeter of her site when she heard a rustle in the bushes about twenty yards away. She attempted to remain calm, but was terrified. She carried only a small silver dagger and a steel short sword that she rubbed with a silver infused oil which she made when she came across good silver and decent tallow. It wore off, but the silver oiled blade was a good compromise when you couldn’t carry both silver and steel. What was she, a fucking Witcher? Anyway, she drew her dagger, but conjured a revelatory wall around her so she could see who or what was out there hunting her. She prayed it wasn’t a kikimore. Anything but a kikimore, she thought. Those shits gave her the creeps. Give her an iron toothed wyvern, or the king of dragons, himself. She could conjure in battle against the best of beasts born of magic, but those insects…no.

There came a keening howl unlike anything she’d ever heard. A drowning scream that almost sounded like it was coming from under the water. Then too many pairs of glowing green eyes started appearing from said bushes. They were horrifying lizard-fish people. And they were walking toward her camp. It would be all too soon that they would walk through the invisibility shield as she hadn’t been able to cast any deflective measures yet. They’d breach her camp in minutes if she didn’t act. She prepared to cast a fire spell on them, hoping that would work, when she heard a deep male voice behind her growl an order.

“Get down! Hide!” Pardon me? She thought. This guy didn’t know who he was dealing with.

It appeared though that she didn’t, either.

The voice had come from a very tall and amply muscled horseman. He wore no armor, only a dark linen tunic tucked into leather breeks, and tall black boots. All was weathered and smelled heavily of horse, ale, and sweat. He quickly dismounted in that way that some men do in which they swing their leg over the horse’s head instead of around the rear. This was the way that, even in her terror, made her feel an unfamiliar but pleasant stirring in the pit of her stomach.

His hair, which she had presumed blonde at first, she noted now to be silvery grey, and well past his shoulders. Maybe longer than her own. He grabbed a sword from the large sheath on his saddle and stalked toward the oncoming rabble of sodden predators.  

She thought…she might have been mistaken but she was fairly sure he’d grabbed a steel sword. Steel would not be very effective on these monsters, if she had sized them up right. She looked to his saddle, seeing the hilt of another blade there. She stepped toward it and slid it out to reveal that this was precisely what had happened. He’d grabbed the wrong weapon in his haste. Well. He was dead. She grabbed the silver sword, sheathing her dagger, and marching toward the scrum around the well-meaning muscle head.

“Selectum ignitus!” She chanted as she wrought her hand in the corresponding motion. This spell burned only victims she chose, leaving others unharmed. It had only stunned these creatures, but it was enough time to allow her would-be hero to catch a small break from his blunder. His thick neck was still in the spindly clutches of one of the largest fish men, apparently less susceptible to fire than the others. Ana stepped up behind him, and with the silver sword, sliced his head clean off at the neck.

“Here.” She said as she tossed him the weapon, the steel sword somewhere on the forest floor to be found later. “They’re waking back up.”

“Mmm.” He mumbled. Right. He was welcome. All this gratitude was just making her blush.

They fought well together, surprisingly. She with her magic and dagger, and he with his signs and sword. She could feel it when he cast them. She noticed him using Aard, so she started casting more similar spells herself. The skirmish was over in minutes. All of the beasts had fallen and she looked at her newfound comrade, both of them covered in blood and muck.

“That was…fun!” She said, in earnest.

“Hmm.” He responded. As if to say, sure, whatever, freak. And began hovering over the corpses, rummaging in his satchel.

“So…these handsome fellows. I’ve never come across them.” She waited a beat, hoping he’d just answer her, knowing that’s what she meant for him to do. Oh, okay. This wasn’t the kind of guy he was. Fair. “What are they?”

“Drowners. Bigger ones are called drowned dead. They come out of the nearby bodies of water.”

How nice. Surely she wouldn’t have any nightmares about that. She'd heard of drowners, as a coastal dweller, but had been fortunate enough to never see one. Until tonight.

“And…not that it’s my business, but…you’re doing what exactly?”

He sighed. “These remains have a lot of useful potion ingredients. I never waste a kill if I can help it. Ginatz’s Acid doesn’t grow on trees, does it?”

“No tree I’ve ever seen, no.” She laughed. He didn’t. Well. This guy would just be a barrel of fun, it seemed. But he did just try to save her life. She should attempt to repay him that kindness. Even if he failed a bit at first, she didn’t know what she would have done if he hadn’t been there.

“Hey, I have a few more spells to do before my camp is fortified for the night, but then I was going to have some dinner in my tent. I have plenty, if you’d like to join. As a thank you for helping me tonight.”

“Camp?”

“Tempora Portia.” She swept her arm down to create a window in the cloaking spell so he could see her camp in the clearing.

He saw the small tent, that looked as though barely two people could lie down in it, much less sit for a meal.

He eyed her warily. “I think you’ll be lucky enough to eat in there by yourself with just a bowl and a spoon.”

“Ever heard of not judging a book by its cover?” She asked. “Trust me. I have a plump pheasant, some really delicious herbs I got on the way here from Aretuza, and some lovely wine! I’ve been saving it until I got here to share with the court, but…” she looked sheepishly at the ruined city on the hillside. “You’re clearly the only surviving citizen, Sir….”

“Geralt. Just Geralt. I’m not a citizen. I was commissioned to come here, just as you were. Only I was sent by…the neighbors…to eliminate the threat before it reached them, too.”

“Right. Geralt. I’m Anathema of Velena. Nice to meet you, and thank you for saving my life tonight.”

“Anathema, thanks for saving mine. And I guess, I’ll take you up on dinner.”

~~~~~~

She told him to finish his scavenging, and cast a charm onto him and his horse, Roach, to allow them to enter through her custom enchantments.

When she was finished securing her campsite, she went inside her tent to clean up. She conjured lots of warm fragrant water into her copper tub. It would have been more relaxing had she not been covered in the muck of battle. The drowner guts were slimy like fish entrails on her skin and in her hair. She was fairly certain that she also had blood from both her own wounds and Geralt’s spattered across what skin had been exposed during the fight.

She reached for her sponge and a bar of soap that smelled of lilac, one of her favorites, and scrubbed until all of the muck, mud, and blood was gone from her skin and hair.

She felt a telltale shudder come from the perimeter of her camp, indicating that her would-be rescuer and his steed had stepped through them. She had put up sheer modesty curtains somewhat arbitrarily, but today she was glad for them. She had just stepped out of the tub and was fully naked when Geralt entered.

“Erm.” He cleared his throat simultaneously announcing his presence and asking if he could come in. She must applaud him for his excellent communication skills.

“Come on in, I’ll be right there.”

She donned a simple, modest wrap dress that went well beyond the duty of a bath robe and looked infinitely more chic, and piled her damp, dark hair into a messy coil high on her head.

“So glad you could join me. Did you get everything you wanted from the creatures?”

“Everything they could give me. Yes.”

“Good. Well, I’ve not started dinner yet, but it won’t be very long. Why don’t you have a bath? You look like you’ve been riding for weeks with no sleep and you’re caked in the muck of a dozen battles like the one we were just in. I’ll clean and mend your clothes, too.”

“I’m fine thank you.”

“Oh, please? You’ll enjoy dinner so much more if you’re not concerned with how you smell…plus my table isn’t so big that…I couldn’t smell you too.” She giggled. “So as a courtesy to your cook and table mate?”

She looked at him with her doe eyes. Maybe that would work. She loved helping people and making them feel better. She thought he was restraining a smirk. He complied with a grunt and a nod.

“Splendid. I’ll get you some wine, too. I love wine with a bath! Don’t you!?”

“That and silence.” Point taken. She’d let him relax.

He stood in the corner of the bathing alcove as she conjured bath water for him.

“Agua fragra fieretta.” she spoke, and the tub filled with steamy water that smelled like spearmint, cedar, and a hint of lavender. Her own had smelled so different. She hadn’t realized it seemed to change depending on who you were drawing the bath for, never having done so for anyone but herself.

She dug around for a sandalwood soap and a new sponge and set them out for him on the small side table.

“Here you are. I’ll be right back with your penis! I mean, woah. Sorry.” She had turned around at the wrong moment. She knew he’d been taking off his shirt when she was rummaging. But she assumed modesty would mandate that he wait for her to leave before removing his trousers. She had been mistaken. He stood there as naked as the day the midwife pulled him from his mother, hands on his hips just like it was the most blasé thing to ever happen.

“It’s fine. I don’t really think about being shy anymore. Sorry. My clothes are on that stool if you want them. Thanks.”

“Right, great. I’ll be right back with a towel and wine. That’s what I was going to say before. And yeah, then I’ll see what I can do for those clothes.”

She left, procured the wine and a towel, and hurried back, placing the cup audibly on the table so she didn’t have to speak to him. She was so embarrassed. She grabbed his clothes and sat them on the settee for later. She was somehow both glad and disappointed that he did not acknowledge her.

Now, she needed to work on dinner. She’d gotten a lovely pheasant this afternoon with her bow. She’d been gathering fragrant herbs of all kinds along her journey and had traded some of them at market for potatoes, carrots, garlic and pearl onions. She prepped the pheasant, stuffing it with the vegetables, herbs, and some salt and pepper, and rubbed it down on the outside with some olive oil and seasoning. She placed it in her camp oven to cook in the infused oil and its own juices, basting it every so often.

She magically cleaned and mended Geralt’s clothes and tried unsuccessfully not to think about the body that they covered. His arms were as thick as the average man’s legs and his legs were not unlike tree trunks, albeit much more shapely. His chest was monolithic with two great pecs and six well-defined abs. He was also perfectly hairy. No one would confuse him with a bear, but this was definitely no boy. No boy, at all. And Mother Melitele herself would weep at the sight of the cock on this man. Long. At least halfway down his thigh. She didn’t get that good a look, but she thought it was veiny. And it was definitely thick…although she couldn’t compare it to much. To anything, really. Not even the instruments used on her the day she ascended to her current state of perfection. She'd been given powerful herbs to sedate her until the transformation was complete.

She’d arrived at Aretuza a sluggish and overweight wallflower with tiny breasts. When she went over her desires for her new form with the “miracle worker” as she liked to call him, she asked him to upgrade her in every way he could, but to keep her eyes the same shade of green they’d always been. She’d felt that the eyes were too directly attached to the soul and to change them was going too far. The rest, however, was fair game.

And this was her first assignment since her ascension, so she hadn’t been anywhere but her home, which was an unforgiving place, and Aretuza. Little opportunity for romance had presented itself. And she wasn’t even sure how romance would go for her at this point. Were mages adored for their power? Beauty? Or who they were as people independent of those attributes? Was that all she was now? A beautiful magician? She suddenly felt a small pang of regret.

Her eyes shifted involuntarily now to the bath partition. Must have been the movement she caught out of the corner of her eye. Geralt was taking a drink of wine, a very long drink, and when he set the goblet back down, he leaned his head back with a contented sigh. She took the clothes back to the stool when she’d finished, smiled at the scarred, and incredibly heroic man before her, and popped away to finish dinner.

~~~~~~~

She busied herself setting the table with modest candles, and conjuring an extra setting for Geralt. She filled a pitcher with an “agua potum” spell and put her wine vessel out. As she was tabling the pheasant, her eye caught movement again in the “bath room.” Geralt had gotten out of the tub and was drying off. His back was no less impressive than his front and his ass was like a fresh, crisp apple. She’d always loved apples. In her dreamy haze, she'd come too close to the hot camp oven and burned her hand. She let out a whispered but audible “fuck” and brought her hand quickly to her mouth to cool the fire with saliva.

It helped a little, but not much. She continued to prepare as Geralt got dressed and he was out right as dinner was on, wine goblet in hand.

“Smells nice.” He complemented. She was shocked, but still in a lot of pain from the burn.

“It better be the best fucking thing I’ve eaten in ages to make it worth searing the skin off my finger here!” She put her hand to her mouth again, and brought it out, shaking it.

He sat his goblet on the table and went outside, all without a word. She was confused. Wondering how she could have offended him, but honestly, not really caring. She’d tried. She sat down. Exhausted. He came back in with the satchel he’d been wearing and packing with solutions from those corpses.

He walked around the table to kneel in front of her, held out his hand, and raised his eyebrow expectantly. She gave him her injured hand, extending her index finger to indicate the affected area.

“You know, I’ve seen men lose half their faces to fire. This isn’t so bad.” He rifled through the bag for a vial of clear oil with bits of purple floating in it.

“Did they live?” She asked, amused.

“A few.” He smirked, dabbing a small amount of the oil onto his index finger and applying it to hers.

Her relief was instant and evident on her face.

“Wow, that feels so much better. Thank you! What is that?”

“A simple infusion. Oil of lavender. Here.” He gave her the vial.

“Oh I couldn’t.”

“Take it. I make more all the time. It’s damn near free. I’ll show you how, too, so you're prepared for next time. It’s essential for a healer’s kit. Many uses.” These were more words than she’d heard him speak all together since they’d met. She decided not to remark upon it.

“Well thank you. I hope you’re hungry! I think the pheasant is ready to be torn!”

They filled their plates with juicy, savory sections of the bird and large chunks of the vegetables that had become pleasantly tender inside it. Thyme and rosemary, onion and garlic danced off the tongue, complimented by the salt and a dash of ground peppercorn for zest. For once, a meal tasted even better than it had smelled and she had forgotten the terror of the fight with the drowners, the pain of her burn, even the startling sight of the naked man in her tent, and relaxed into the pleasure of a delicious meal.

This is one of the reasons I was fat before, she told herself. And made sure she stopped eating before she'd filled herself to gluttony.

She noticed that her companion was eating…enthusiastically. She was on the verge of saying ravenously, but there was an element of refinement to it that forbade her from using the more savage descriptor. He seldom drank, and most rarely from his water cup.  He liked the wine, then. She liked this fellow. Quite a lot. He stabbed large portions onto his fork and put them easily into his wide mouth. But even though he took larger bites, he did take his time in chewing, savoring the succulent food. She appreciated this from him.

"You're going to have to finish the poor bird off. I'm stuffed." she patted her tummy, demure now, as it had never been in her recent memory.

"Hmm." he grunted in protest. This one she couldn't quite translate past general disagreement.

"What?" she prodded.

"We both know you didn't need any help taking down this bird alone. Even with the vegetables. It's all incredible, by the way. Best meal I've had in ages."

"First of all, thank you, I quite liked it too, and secondly, it's called restraint. Ever heard of it?" she sassed him back.

"I've heard of it, yes. Can't say we've ever crossed paths, though." he held her gaze as he drank deeply from his goblet. Was it suddenly warmer in the tent?

"Well, it might be a good idea to seek it out here and there." she said, hiding well the feathers he'd just ruffled. "Food and I have a volatile history. I have to show restraint or all of this is gone." she indicated her physical form. She hadn't truly intended to make him look at her, but he was. He was holding her in his gaze in a way that was utterly alien to her.

"Mmm." he grunted, as if to express his understanding.

"But enough about me. What about you? It's not every day I meet a witcher!"

His amber eyes met hers, inscrutable, but not pleased.

"You knew."

"Of course I knew. I have eyes and ears, and all kinds of senses working. And all of them caught wind of what you were the moment you dismounted your horse."

"And yet you helped me. Fought with me. Saved me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Most people don't want a witcher around. They'd prefer the monsters we kill. Even when we're summoned to communities, invited, we're a pariah until the job is done. We're seen as the…lesser evil."

"Tell me Geralt. Did you make the choice to become a witcher?"

"No."

"Do you think I made the choice to be a conduit?" This question, he didn't answer. She thought he may not know. She decided then to tell him her story. How she came to be a mage, and the hell she went through to get where she was.

"Do you know what my nickname was as a child? It wasn't anything cute, like a vegetable or fruit or a baked good, or even a cuddly little creature, no. No term of endearment would suit me. I was called 'Rat.' Because you see, as I mentioned, I have a complicated past where food is concerned, and this comes from my youth. When I would sneak into the pantries and steal food. My mother and the staff thought at first there was a large rat, or even a raccoon behind the lost inventory, for at first, I left behind traces and made a mess of things. But after a while, I got good. Covered my tracks. Then mother started blaming the staff. Beating them, then firing most of them. No one seemed to notice how fat I was getting. Me being the middle of five girls. Eldest two sisters already married off to wealthy business men from town and bringing the bratty little grandchildren around, the younger girls learning dance and music, and generally being full of charm. I was in the background. Until one night, mother found me. She was searching the pantry for a tonic for indigestion when she saw me burrowing, trying to hide between sacks of potatoes. She hauled me out and dove for a long wooden spoon on the worktop in the kitchen. She beat me bloody with that spoon. I couldn't sit and could hardly walk for days."

She took a drink from her goblet, fortifying her. She didn't tell this story often. In fact, she hadn’t told anyone but her best friend Codrick, the blacksmith's apprentice. And that had taken many years.

"She started giving me smaller portions at dinner. Insisting that I wouldn't find a husband in my current state and threatening to sell me to a brothel if I didn't marry in good time. I was nearly starving, but still not getting thin fast enough to satisfy her. She made me run around the perimeter of our grounds. If I wasn't back in time, she'd set our wild bull out after me. There were a few times I was nearly gored. But I kept sneaking into the cupboards late at night. They were locked now, but once I told Codrick what was happening, he helped me by forging me a spare key. She kept calling me 'Rat' which was interesting. As if the sneaking and stealing was the more deplorable side of me than my actual size. She never called me 'Pig.' Perhaps because at least pigs had a use. Pigs could be sold or slaughtered for food. Rats were just a nuisance. The last time she caught me, she hauled me into the kitchen and reached for her wooden spoon again. But this time, when she reared back to strike at me, the spoon had turned into a vicious raven. It squalled and flailed and she let go of it, shooing it away. But it didn't relent. It clawed and pecked at her head and face until her hair was patchy and ragged and her face was a bloody mess. One eye was completely gone, the other, likely to be lost. But she could see well enough to tell where the raven landed after it had left her alone. Right beside me, as if it was trying to calm my still quivering form."

"So that was your conduit moment?" Geralt asked, knowing the answer.

"Yes. Lady de Vries showed up at our door not a moment too soon. The Madame from the local brothel had just agreed to my mother's price. There was a rather tense moment where the money had already changed hands and Tissaia had to threaten both women with rather unpleasant repercussions. She was having me and there would be no arguments. Actually, though, the whole experience of being fought over gave me the confidence I needed to confess my true feelings to Codrick and kiss him before we left the town. I'd fancied him for years but never had the guts to tell him."

"I'm sure you have a point to telling me this life story of yours." Geralt said, patiently, but clearly ready for her to wrap it up.

"Right. Sorry. My point is, most of us that are born or imbued with magic have some story like this. I'm certain you're no different. I could go on with horrors at Aretuza, too, just like I'm sure you could with stories of…where was it you were trained? Kaer Morhen?"

He looked at her skeptically.

"Wolf amulet around your neck. School of the Wolf. I thought that was Kaer Morhen."

"Mmhmm." oh, a two syllable grunt. His vocabulary was proving vast.

"Why shun you over a life you didn't choose? And if I have a fucked up past too, and I'm still dealing with that trauma, what right would I have to dismiss you or consider you an unworthy brother in arms? Or dinner companion? Or maybe even travel companion? After all, we fought well together and we don't know what's out there laying waste to the countryside."

"Suppose you're right."

"About which part?" this always happened to her as someone who never shut up. She never knew whether "you're right" was a blanket statement covering an entire monologue, or just certain parts that someone wanted to subscribe to.

"The first part. I'm still not sure about traveling companions. Or mages, if I'm honest. No offense."

"None taken. If it makes you feel better, I'm still very new to being a mage. I don't have any bad mage habits. I'm not even that good of a mage. I had to hand assemble this tent before I spelled it."

"Well, you did a fine job." he chuckled. "It looked…sturdy, from the outside."

"That's what I was going for. And why don't you just…try me for this expedition. I'll sign a contract saying that it's not your fault if I die. Not that anyone would care. Plus, we'll live in luxury every night, and I can make anything taste delicious with bare minimum ingredients."

"Tempting, but won't it be a little…cozy with both of us in here?"

She looked at him, incredulous.

"Remember the part where I'm a mage?" she walked over to the sitting area and contorted her hands toward the wall. "Addendum Sanctorum."

She beckoned him through a new flap in the canvas to a modest, but still accommodating room with a large, plush bed, a few sturdy, simple chairs, a small table, and a bathing area of its own, complete with a stash of sponges, soaps, and towels.

"See? It may not be all of the comforts of home, but it's hardly roughing it compared to the alternative, am I wrong?" She turned to look at him, but he was much closer than she'd expected him to be. She looked directly up into that piercing amber gaze that was unlike any she'd seen before. And he looked so…dangerous. And yet she wasn't afraid. At least not primarily. What she was mostly feeling was desire. She wanted those strong, skilled hands to touch her. She wanted to be held. She hadn't been held since she was a child. And a very young one, at that. She could feel something mutual coursing between them. And that was the thing that terrified her. The thought that he might be hungry for her in that way. He ran his hand along the slope of her temple and cheek down to her chin.

"I don't recall saying I'd mind sharing a cozy space with you, Ana."

TBC in Part Two

[theartfuldodger26]

Bellamort for the ship meme

 Thank you @knightessofwalpurgis for the ask and apologies for taking me a month to answer - March has been... quite the experience.  But Bellamort exists to give us comfort, so let’s get crackin’!

who is more likely to hurt the other?

Voldemort can tear anyone apart with some well-chosen words (as we see Locket!Voldemort do to Ron), but he rarely uses those on Bella, because a. she rarely deserves to be humiliated like that, and b. he just wouldn’t do that to her. 

What’s more likely, is that he hurts her inadvertently, since he may fail to understand certain emotional needs that Bella most people have - a touch, a kind word after success, casual conversation over a cup of tea. In addition to that, Bella, who is obsessed with him and the position she holds in his eyes, tends to overreact to those “omissions”, getting convinced he ‘never truly valued her’ and he’s going to ‘kick her out any day now’. 

However, let us take a moment to note the day that Bella deeply hurt Voldemort: the night of her betrothal to Rodolphus, when Voldemort proposed marriage and Bella turned him down for reasons that, in retrospect, she finds ridiculous. 

So in a way, you could say that of the two, Voldemort is the brokenhearted one, even if it’s Bella who cries herself to sleep from time to time. 

who is emotionally stronger?

They’re both incredibly strong people. 

Voldemort pulled himself out of the gutter, basically raised himself and became one of the most powerful and learned wizards ever.

Bella survived fucking Azkaban, which is code for severe depression in HP-land, so all I can do is salute her and ask for her secrets. 

The answer is a little tricky, in the sense that Voldemort appears to be a psychopath, medically speaking, who are... resilient people emotionally, if you will. This means that an event that would have had a massive effect on a neurotypical person, say witnessing a murder or war, to him it’s very blunted or even irrelevant. This description is very vague and generalising, but it’s supported by a lot of evidence. In fact, psychopaths can’t really feel fear, because their amygdala is the size of a pea, so it’s not fair comparing his emotional strength to others. In fact, I’d add that since he’s not used to “negative emotions” like sadness and fear, if they happen, they’d be more devastating to him, because he’s never learnt to cope with them, like the rest of us do. 

Bella obviously has her own emotional/psychiatric problems, but I don’t feel comfortable making guesses, since I’m not a psychiatrist and she’s no textbook description of any personality disorder I’ve heard. However, she got an interestng upbringing, that trained her to be a person of importance. So I’d say that even after Azkaban and with whatever issues she has, she can still hold her own in a very difficult emotional situation. 

I realise I haven’t answered the question, because honestly Idk. Also, take with a grain of salt anything psychiatry-related I said, I’m no expert, merely done some research, which I’m regurgitating here. 

who is physically stronger?

Naturally, Bella. She trains a lot, does ballet (which is fucking hardcore, let me tell you), enjoys physical activities and martial arts. 

However, after Voldemort’s transformation, he’s got many of his physical attributes improved, like the cat-eyes that allow him to see in the dark and so on (been reading a lot of the Witcher series as of recent so there’s that too), so he’s deceptively strong and yes, eventually stronger than her.who is more likely to break a bone? 

Bella, 100% XD She’s in battle all the time, and when taking part in Voldemort’s magical research (which is their day-job, world domination is a weekend hobby in case you haven’t noticed) her motto is ‘safety third’. 

An interesting point tho. Psychopaths have no fear and low-impulse control if they don’t train themselves. Fear is useful, informs us of danger ahead, so I HC that young Tom/Voldemort broke almost every bone in his body at some point doing something really dangerous simply because he didnt realise it’s stupid - like, say, go down a fucking cliff with waves crushing at it. Now he’s learnt to control those impulses and polices himself when it comes to danger, so no more broken bones. who knows best what to say to upset the other? 

They’re both excellent at judging characters and have tongues that sting. Bella will rarely truly dare upset Voldemort, but she does love torturing him a little with  something silly and not-truly important, like refusing sex, or messing with his OCD by taking stuff from “their proper place”. She knows that there’s only few things that tick him off: his loss of power to an infant, death and the abandonment from his mother. And she’s not that sadistic to bring up that last one unless absolutely provoked. 

Voldemort can be a tease as well, but he’s too mature and dignified for such childish behaviour most of the time. who is most likely to apologise first after an argument?

 Bella apologises compulsively out of fear she’s lost him even for things that aren’t her fault, tho in her mind they might be. However, she’s stubborn too, so if it’s a petty argument she might not apologise at all. Shes a spoilt little rich girl after all ;)

Voldemort’s never apologised in his life and never shall say the words, but he will change his behaviour if he realises he’s been wrong, because it’s the rational thing to do- also Bella is supersexy when she’s angry, so he wants to fuck her and he needs to her to be accepting to that. who treats who’s wounds more often? 

Voldemort treats Bella’s wounds more often by default, since she’s the one out in the battlefield more often, and also can be clumsy and absentminded. And very rarely *trigger alert* she might self-harm. 

Voldemort not only gets hurt rarely, but he also views it demeaning to accept help, so he won’t even mention it if he’s hurt. Bella will find out by accident or because he’s in so much pain he can’t hide it anymore, and with scold him first, he’ll storm off, she’ll hunt him down, they’ll argue and finally she’ll heal his wounds (usually his back which hurts because he’s Tall^TM) and he’ll act like a literal cat during this, touch-starved as he is. who is in constant need of comfort? 

Right after Azkaban Bella is in need of a lot of care and comfort, understandably. Her physical and emotional problems are their reality for many months after her escape, but the physical ones mend themselves relatively quickly. She’s forever changed emotionally, again understandably, but I wouldn’t say she’s in *constant* need of comfort. In an AU where they win, she’s perfectly functional as his right hand woman and partner, with only the occasional problem. 

Voldemort needs to get through his tough, bald head that he deserves love and comfort like everyone else, but he’ll never get it, so, in the whole, it’s him I’d say. who gets more jealous? 

Interesting question, because fandom’s given so many answers relating to those characters, especially since Bella is married. Starting with this piece of solid information, I’d hazard a guess that Voldemort doesn’t care that much that Bella also sleeps with her husband from time to time - maybe it even turns him on and strokes his ego that she doesnt get all she needs from her legitimate, pureblooded husband. How he’d react if she slept with a random bloke... probably badly; tho I cant think of a situation where that’d happen. My Bella at least, doesnt sleep around. She might tease with her sex, but she’s a well-bred lady after all, who does what is expected of her. 

Voldemort, I HC, used to be a bit of a whoremonger in his youth; good looks, mummy issues and no emotional attachment are the ingredients for that particular potion. Also he might have also been overcompensating for the fact that he was unable to marry the only women he found worthy of him: his pureblooded classmates. So he’d show up with a different, gorgeous girl at parties, which drove child!Bella crazy with jealousy, since she was still out of the healthy sexual attraction part for him and never thought he’d notice her. She’d stalk him behind curtains and through keyholes, keep her ears on alert for when the adults talked about him etc. Poor thing was really tortured by it. But now that they’re adults and, well, in a relationship, she’s far too confident to think he’d seriously care for another woman; after all, half the time she’s not sure he truly cares about her, and she’s the person who’s been closest to him. 

One thing I forgot to mention about Voldemort’s jealousy, or lack thereof, is that Bella has certain emotional needs that he cannot serve, and I’m not talking about tenderness, because to some degree he can give her that, and it’s not the same with her husband anyway. No, I mean that Bella is a sexual sadist, who gets direct sexual pleasure by hurting people. Voldemort on the other hand, is not a masochist. Not that when they have rough sex/BDSM sex he’s never in a sub position, but he’d never just sit there to be whipped or something, it just doesn’t turn him on, and that’s totally fine. So they may invite a girl (and very rarely a boy) to join them, so that Bella can get it out of her system if the war is slow/over. Don’t ask where these people end up, just don’t hang your coat in the second floor closet is all I’m saying. who’s most likely to walk out on the other? 

Depends on the situation? 

Bella would NEVER abandon Voldemort in battle or for the Cause. In a Muggle setting though, if he pissed her off she’d totally walk out of the restaurant :P 

Voldemort would never walk out on Bella either, tho, would he? He’s devoted to her, plus he does feel like he owes her after Azkaban. 

The only concept I can imagine relevant to this is Voldemort saying something in his anger that he doesnt exactly mean tho it holds some truth in it, that hurts Bella so deeply, that she leaves, both out of spite but also because she thinks it’s the best for him. In fact, I have a very specific HC for this which takes place in the afterlife, after they;re both killed in the battle for Hogwarts, but there’s no time for that here. 

There’s also another thing, but it’d quite controversial. If you, like me, HC that Bella started training with Voldemort since she was a child, and entered a sexual and later romantic relationship with him while still underage, this means that she literally hasn’t been alone as an individual, ever. So there’s also the chance that she, after they’ve had a huge fight and he’s terrible with her, leaves so she can find who she is without him. *cue the tears*who will propose? 

Voldemort did propose, on the night of Bella’s formal betrothal. Very rude and uncourteous of him, yes, but it had to be the last minute for him to realise his feelings, because he only has one (1) brain cell that works part-time on the Emotions Department of his brain. She turned him down, because she was young, immature, didnt realise how deep her own feelings were (she believed what her mother told her, that ‘all girls fall for Riddle, it’s an infatuation, it will pass’), wanted the power, fame, money and public adoration that her position as the Black Heir brought, not to mention that she was loyal to her family and terrified since Andromeda had just eloped with Ted. So she broke his heart then, even if neither realised it. But they did continue with their affair, because that’s how it happened in the olden days if you had money and space. 

After the war is over, neither proposes. They talk about it as a given (Rodolphus has fucked off to study penguins in Antarctica) and only need to figure out the details: how public it will be, who’s invited, what titles the ceremony gives them and so on.  who has the most difficult parents?

Spoiler alert: Voldemort’s an orphan! 

Okay, so hypothetically speaking, had any of his parents survived and raised him one way or the other, they’d for sure be a handful. Tom Sr. is a posh bloke used to getting his own way and being considered special due to his status as a squire, so he’d be fucking pissed if he were introduced to a world where he’s not all the shit. Nonetheless, I’d hazard a guess that in the end he, Bella and her parents would get along well-enough; after all they’re the same sort of people. 

Merope, on the other hand, is a whole other story. In the most sensible AU, where she survives giving birth and raises her son but they’re still poor and she’s got trouble with magic due to the trauma of Tom Sr. leaving her, I think she wouldn’t like Bella at all actually. Because Bella is all she ever wanted to be: beautiful, wealthy, well-bred and shows it, and, most importantly, emotionally strong. So she pesters Tom all the time about how Bella is not ‘feminine enough’ in her behaviour, too outspoken, too bitchy, not for ‘her boy’. Tom/Voldemort gives exactly one shit about her opinion and moves on. 

In the canon universe, it’d be naive to say that Bella’s parents were into Tom, simply due to his blood status. In the longrun, however, I think they'd come to terms with it, and they remember how brilliant and ambitious he was in school, so when he becomes successful in life, whether in-universe as Voldemort, or Minister or whatever in an AU, they’re sort of okay with it. Idk if they hand over the Heir of Blacks title to Bella tho, their kids wouldn’t be pureblooded after all. who initiates hand-holding when they’re out in public? 

No one. Not allowed. Not happening. Ever. It’s not their thing, anyway. Voldemort will offer her his arm, like a gentleman, tho. :)

who hogs the blankets? 

Bella, especially after Azkaban. She sleeps with five blankets piled on top of her, has the fireplace going all year round and puts a warmth charm on the sheets. Voldemort doesn’t care. He experienced such cold temperatures in so little clothing as a child, that hot and cold make little impression on him; he even takes cold showers because it’s all the same to him. *sobs* who gets more sad? 

Bella. She overthinks everything. Did she disappoint him today? Yesterday? Tomorrow? Will she ever be the person she was before prison? Why does Cissy wince every time she sees her? Should she have had children after all? These and all sorts of thoughts race through her mind all the time, torturing her to no end. 

Interestingly enough, psychopaths in general dont get that sad, but Voldemort can be very... pensive. who is better at cheering the other up? 

Bella has a wicked sense of humor that only Voldemort seems to find hilarious (comments from other people include ‘disturbing’, ‘scary’ and ‘morbid’), and even though he’s rarely sad, he can be very very serious and in need to relax his body and mind. 

Still, Voldemort, the eternal student of human nature that he is, if he does notice that Bella is sad (which isn’t always because he’s... you know), knows exactly how to distract her, just like he can do with any other person. Just, in her case, it’s sincere. who’s the one that playfully slaps the other all the time after they make silly jokes?

No one ever hits anyone. Voldemort’s been beaten and whipped and flogged enough as a young boy that he wouldn’t do it to the only person he cares about in a non-sexy way, and Bella’s been raised to view such things as ‘Muggle animalistic violence’. She might bite him hard for fun, tho :Dwho is more streetwise?

This may come as a surprise to you because of my username, but Voldemort grew up on the streets in a  Dickensian world. He knows all the tricks in the book; in fact he created many of them. Bella begged him to take her along in his travels incognito, and not on these formal things she attends with her family, and he did, so she’s learnt a lot, but she’s very much a pampered princess. who is more wise?

Hmmm... Hard to say. They have their areas of wisdom and their areas of not-having-a-fucking-clue. Bella, for example, understands emotions better than Voldemort, because she actually experiences them. Jk, jk, but you get what I mean. She’s also more knowledgeable in certain magical things, that, for example, not all prophecies have to be fulfilled and that there’s so much magic that it’s pointless to wish to acquire *everything*; had Voldemort listened to her more often, the books would have been very different. 

Voldemort of course is much older and has more diverse life-experience. He’s also less impulsive in his older years than Bella; he can be the voice of rationality and reason if he’s not superobsessed with something; at which point Bella should remind him to take his meds, because they really do help with fixations. who’s the shyest? 

Neither, in the strict sense of the meaning. They both know what they want and they’re not afraid to demand it. In the end, it’s Voldemort who’ll never say what he truly needs and feels, though, speaking about their everyday life together, it’d be Bella who’d rather have more affection from him but is too shy to ask. But yeah, Voldemort, not because he’s shy per se, but rather in deep hurt and denial. who boasts about the other more? 

In the books it’s obvious that it’s Bella. However, Voldemort does this hilarious thing where he praises Bella in random conversation with other people without even noticing; like, he brings her up every ten seconds even if she’s barely relevant to the subject, so *shrugs* have your pick. who sits on who’s lap?

Nobody, because they’re both tall. Bella will straddle him even in a non sexual manner from time to time, and they often spend their evenings relaxing on the same sofa: Bella will put her legs on Voldemort’s lap and he strokes them absentmindedly (after all they’re superlong and soft and hot), and Voldemort, who refuses to nap in bed, might catch a nap with his head on her lap. The reason Bella doesn’t nap with her head on his lap is because he’s very thin and his femurs hurt her skull, when she’s got plenty of skirts and petticoats cushioning Voldemort. Finally, Bella often sleeps with her head on his chest, because his heart-beat, even tho abnormally slow, relaxes her panic attacks, after Azkaban that is. He will then stroke her hair compulsively - it’s a bit of a fixation of his.

Well,what a ride! Thanks again @knightessofwalpurgis for the ask, this was tremendous fun to write, especially after a very difficult month! And it did help put some of my thoughts on those evil babies in a row. Hope you found it entertaining! I get that those types of asks are usually made for monolectic answers, but yeah, explanations are better. If you made it to the end, dear reader, thank you very much for your time! 

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: New Normal

Darnold has a whole day planned. Probably make some eggs for breakfast, but if he’s not feeling up to it then toast. Once he’s ready for the day, he’ll do a quick inventory of his potion-making supplies, and if he desperately needs anything, he’ll pick it up when he stops by the store later. Then, when all the groceries are put away, he’ll have a quick lunch and settle down for a nice bit of research, working the rest of his day away.

Sure, it’s not exciting or magical or whatever. Darnold’s almost positive Tommy and his friends are having a way more interesting day than he is (he’ll ask when they text later), but it doesn’t really matter! It’s a nice, quiet day, and he’s very much looking forward to it.

But maybe Darnold should have realized his day wouldn’t go so good when he woke up at three in the morning to his phone buzzing. Blearily, he reaches over to check, just in case something’s gone sideways again.

Unknown Number: Hey

Darnold can’t contain the sigh that escapes him. Just some random number, who cares? He mutes his phone and rolls back over in bed.

If that had been the end of it, then maybe Darnold would have still been able to have the day he wanted. Just some weird middle of the night texts from what was possibly a wrong number, a very normal thing! But Darnold should have known he threw normal things out the window the day he met Tommy.

Not long after sunrise, Darnold is rudely awoken by a whole other person manifesting in his bedroom out of thin air. And yeah, Tommy’s been using his powers around him for a few weeks now, but the man was sleeping for goodness sake!

Naturally, he reacts by screaming and falling out of his bed.

“Wow,” the voice remarks, and hang on a second that sounds more familiar than a burglar would. “That was embarrassing for you.”

Darnold peeks his head over the side of the bed, confirming his suspicions that the intruder is just Bubby. While it does raise questions, he’s comforted by the fact that he’s probably not going to die here.

In the few times Darnold and Bubby have met, they never really hit it off enough to warrant Bubby barging in without so much as a warning. Especially after the whole godliness reveal, it only led to their interactions getting a bit more stilted.

Darnold feels like he’s warranted to speak up for himself, though. “What are you doing in my house?” he demands, getting off the floor.

“Uh, this is an apartment,” Bubby corrects him. “Also put on a shirt, what the fuck?”

“I was sleeping! In the privacy of my home!” Darnold argues, but he does grab his discarded shirt from the night before and slip it on. “You can’t just come here without telling me…”

“I texted.”

Darnold blinks for a few seconds, before remembering the strange text from the night before. Taking his phone from his bedside table, he looks back at his messages.

Unknown Number: Hey Unknown Number: This is Bubby Unknown Number: Look we need to talk

Darnold looks up from his phone towards the god in front of him.

“It’s really rude of you not to respond to my messages,” Bubby says, as if Darnold wasn’t asleep less than five minutes ago.

“Did you… need something?” Darnold questions, desperate for at least some context.

“Well, now that you mention it…” Bubby taps the side of his face, smirking. “You’ve been dating Tommy for a bit, haven’t you?”

What?

Darnold struggles to make sense of whatever the fuck is happening. Because this can’t be what he thinks it is, right? “A-about a month, yeah,” he confirms, nodding.

“Yeah, good. Good for you two.” Bubby’s disinterested look betrays the fact that he just technically broke in to have this conversation, instead inspecting his nails like an asshole does.

For a brief second, Darnold almost convinces himself that one of Tommy’s eccentric family members just rudely interrupted his last few minutes of morning sleep. But really, he knows better.

Bubby’s hand erupts in fire. “Just remember us before you try anything you might regret, okay?”

And just as suddenly as he appeared, Bubby disappears.

After a moment of just staring at the place Bubby stood in absolute fear, Darnold finally finds the words with which he can voice what he’s feeling.

“What. The. Fuck.”

☆○☆○☆

Despite being rattled by the encounter he started his morning with, Darnold presses forward. He dresses casual, since he doesn’t really have anything important planned, and he writes down all the groceries and potion ingredients he needs on his phone. As he's locking his apartment behind him, Darnold hears someone clear their throat.

"Oh my, what a coincidence to see you here, Darnold!"

Darnold turns to see Coomer approaching from down the hallway. Damn, they’re all coming out of the woodworks today, aren't they?

"A coincidence to see me in my own apartment building?" Darnold asks, but Coomer ignores him.

"Tell me," Coomer throws an arm around Darnold, pulling him in. "You've been treating our Tommy well, right?"

Oh fuck. Again?

"Yeah! Of course!" Darnold insists. The mere implication that he might be mean to Tommy, of all people, offends him deeply.

"Excellent! That's wonderful to hear!" Coomer's arm tightens ever so slightly. "You know what would happen if you were disrespectful, don't you?"

The surge of anxiety that runs through him only leaves Darnold enough brain power to nod weakly.

☆○☆○☆

Darnold is trying very hard to compare the prices on these packs of soda. Ever since Tommy has started hanging around his home more, he’s found that he goes through soda way faster, so the twelve-pack makes sense initially. But looking at the price for a six-pack, it's more than half the price of the twelve-pack. Darnold feels like he’s in some second-grade multiplication problem, because no matter how long he stares at the prices, he can't figure out which one is the better purchase.

What the fuck is happening to him? Getting the shovel talk from immortal gods is totally fine and normal, loads of people have probably had this happen before! Because Tommy’s lived five centuries now, there's no way he hasn't had other partners. And he'll be around long after Darnold's gone, which is the funny part. No matter how loved he feels, no matter the love he gives in return, Darnold knows he's just going to be a blip in Tommy's life.

He's nothing compared to Tommy.

Darnold's pretty sure he's going to hell when he dies, if only because his death will make Tommy sad. And Bubby and Coomer have made it very clear what will happen if he makes Tommy sad.

Maybe that's why he's having such a hard time figuring out which soda to buy! Which no other person can say, really. The emotional toll of two vaguely threatening interactions with literal deities has left him unable to do basic division.

“You’re not… okay.”

It’s a simple statement of fact, but Darnold’s caught unaware by the figure standing next to him now. Damn it, he didn’t even hear this person come up on him. Now some stranger’s found him almost having a panic attack over soda. This day is just perfect!

“You should try, sitting,” the stranger says. “Rest a moment.”

Darnold’s not really in a mindset to protest right now, and hey, taking a load off doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Of course, the only thing around to sit on is the floor, so he ends up leaning against shelves lined with chips, his legs drawn to his chest.

The stranger sits next to him. While Darnold’s more focused on his breathing, he keeps checking in on him. Asking questions, making sure he’s doing alright. It’s nice, comforting almost, which is weird because the way this man talks sounds like the words don’t fit in his mouth.

Eventually, Darnold feels his heartbeat slow (it’s still quick, but not near as fast as it was before) and his breaths become more even. He takes a moment to actually look towards the stranger next to him, and comes to the realization that he’s more familiar than not. Fuck, this guy looks a lot like Tommy.

Wait. Hang on.

“Crap, you’re Tommy’s dad, aren’t you?” The question slips out of his mouth without him meaning to ask it. Not exactly what he wanted to say, but it’s out there now!

He just laughs though, something that sounds both genuine and strained. “Well, yes,” he smiles. “But you can, call me Gman.”

Despite his warm demeanor, Darnold can’t help but be embarrassed. “I, uh. I didn’t think I would meet you like this, sorry-”

Gman holds a hand up. “Don’t apolo...gize. You needed help, and so I, offered it.”

Now that he mentions it, Darnold notices that the world has a slight blue tint to it. And that person at the other end of the aisle has been staring at the bag of chips in their hand for a very long time (not that Darnold can judge, given what just happened).

“Did- what did you do?” Darnold asks.

“I simply froze, time,” Gman explains. “You’re very important, to my son, so I thought I should let you have a moment to. Collect yourself.”

“Thanks,” Darnold nods, standing. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Um, that really helped.”

Gman follows stands as well, and fuck, Darnold thought Tommy was tall. This guy might just be the tallest person Darnold’s ever met.

“I’m glad,” he grins, but Darnold can’t help but feel uncomfortable about the way he’s eying him. “If it’s alright, I would like to, get to know you, Darn...old. You are, after all, close, with my son. We can speak as you… continue your shopping”

Without thinking, Darnold says yes.

☆○☆○☆

Grocery shopping with a god from the beginning of time actually isn’t that bad! He has opinions about how human food has evolved and re-evolved over the years, and it’s quite fascinating to hear about. It gives him a few cooking ideas, but more importantly, Darnold realizes that Gman is actually quite a nice dude, despite appearances.

They’re discussing Coomer and Bubby’s recent appearances as they approach Darnold’s apartment. Gman does pick up on Darnold’s anxiety, and he does his best to assure him that, given what he’s seen today, it’s unlikely that he’ll ever hurt Tommy on purpose.

The meaning of that is lost on Darnold for a second. That isn’t just Gman being nice, that’s approval from his boyfriend’s father! Holy fuck! Holy shit! Tommy’s dad likes him! This is a huge win for him!

“Besides,” Gman says after finally entering Darnold’s apartment. “I don’t think they, meant it as much as, you think they did.” There’s a smug look on his face, like he knows something Darnold doesn’t.

Darnold tilts his head, but his confusion practically disappears when Gman places a hand on his shoulder.

“It was, wonderful meeting you, Darnold,” Gman tells him. “Maybe we will speak, again sometime.”

And with that, Gman disappears.

☆○☆○☆

Doing research today seems like it’s off the table. Not because yet another god has descended from the heavens to grace Darnold with their presence, but because mentally, Darnold is spent. He tried to crack open some old alchemical book he has on loan from a library three hours away, but his head just couldn’t process the words he was reading. Fuck, he really only got his groceries done today, and he barely did that.

So Darnold lays face down on his couch. He’s glad he cleaned this thing off, he’s not sure what he would do without it right now. It’s so comfy, maybe he can play some old DVDs he has.

The doorbell rings.

Given the trend of visitors today, Darnold is not surprised to find Gordon and Benrey on the other side of the door. In fact, he’s more surprised that Joshua isn’t with them. Someone must be babysitting.

“Oh, hey,” is all Darnold can think to say.

“‘Hey?’” Gordon asks. “The Gods of Chaos and Order come to your house personally, to see you just say, ‘oh, hey’?”

“Yeah,” Darnold shrugs. “I’m, uh, I’m used to it.”

Gordon snorts, “Okay, fine.” He’s very clearly trying to keep a serious face.

“Look, uh,” Benrey gets between the two of them. “You’re like dating our friend Tommy, and we just wanted you to know that-”

“Stop,” Darnold begs. While he’s more or less recovered from the first two shovel talks, Darnold’s not sure he’ll survive a third, especially with two people giving it. “Please, whatever you’re about to say, I promise I’ve heard it before.”

“Yeah, it seems like it,” Benrey jokes. Before Darnold can ask for clarification, Gordon’s already elbowed him, snickering.

“Okay, then let’s just say ditto, yeah?” Gordon asks.

Darnold sighs. “Sure. I’m gonna go watch Star Trek now, so please-”

“What’s Star Trek?”

Darnold stares down at Benrey in shock. There’s no way. There’s no way this infinite God of Chaos has never heard of Star Trek.

“You don’t… you’ve never heard of Star Trek?” Darnold manages to say.

“I haven’t either,” Gordon chimes in.

Hm. Fuck it. Might as well.

“Do you want to come watch it with me?” Darnold offers.

☆○☆○☆

It’s very late when Darnold’s phone buzzes. Gordon and Benrey left hours ago, but Darnold’s been continuing his binge of

Star Trek: The Original Series

without them. His eyes are practically aching at this point, but what is he supposed to do, just get up and go to bed? Not when he has a text message, obviously.

♡☆Tommy☆♡: Hey, are you awake?

Darnold: Yeah what’s up

♡☆Tommy☆♡: Darnold!?!? I didn’t think you’d answer!!!

Darnold: I’m watching Star Trek can’t stop

♡☆Tommy☆♡: It’s really late!! ♡☆Tommy☆♡: You should go to bed… :(

Darnold: Ok Darnold: So should you? Darnold: Doesn’t heaven or whatever work on the same timezone as me?

♡☆Tommy☆♡: Actually it’s an hour back ♡☆Tommy☆♡: But that’s kind of why I’m texting you ♡☆Tommy☆♡: I can’t sleep :( ♡☆Tommy☆♡: And I was wondering if I could maybe come spend the night?

Darnold: oh

♡☆Tommy☆♡: No pressure!

Darnold: It’s just Darnold: I mean, isn’t it dangerous for you down here? With like the skeletons and everything?

♡☆Tommy☆♡: Oh! ♡☆Tommy☆♡: Well, I was talking with everyone, and they said it should be fine if I put up some wards on your apartment? ♡☆Tommy☆♡: If you’re okay with that!

Darnold: Yes!!!!!! Darnold: We can snuggle and watch Star Trek together!!!

♡☆Tommy☆♡: Darnold, it’s like 2 am down there! I’m dragging you to bed! >:(

Darnold: :(

☆○☆○☆

The moment Tommy appears in Darnold’s apartment, he scowls.

“Has my- has my family been here recently?” he asks.

Darnold, who’s still laying on the couch, blinks. “Uh.”

“Because there are already, like, five different wards on your apartment,” Tommy reveals. “These- these weren’t here last time! How did they do this so fast?”

“I may have had a few visitors?”

Tommy gives Darnold a look and sighs. He shuts off the TV. “Alright, time for bed.”

“No! Leonard Nimoy Spock!” Darnold cries out.

Darnold is half carried, half pulled into his bedroom. Fuck he’s exhausted; he practically collapses onto the bed. He would have drifted off immediately if he didn’t feel Tommy climb into bed next to him. Sleepily, Darnold reaches out and wraps his arms around Tommy.

For the briefest of moments, Tommy hesitates. Then, Tommy pulls him in close and kisses the top of his head.

“I love you,” Tommy says.

“I love you, too,” Darnold mumbles back.

Darnold doesn’t feel like nothing right now. He feels like everything to Tommy.

[hicsqueakfest]

Hicsqueak Fest Prompt List!

Hi all! Here’s the prompt list for Hicsqueak Fest! You can request up to 3 prompts at a time. Once you finish your fics/arts, you can come back for more! 

To claim your prompt, simply send an ask to @hicsqueakfest and copy/paste the prompt you want (you must have a tumblr username to do this). I will cross it off the list and put your name by it so it’s all yours. First come, first serve. Make sure you tell me if you’re claiming a FIC or ART prompt, because some of them are duplicates! 

Prompts are divided by FIC (sub categories: AU, AR, Gen, Smut, Lyrics/Quotes) and ART. 

HAPPY CLAIMING!

FIC

- Domestic Hicsqueak

- Hecate and Pippa are in an established relationship and see each other again after months apart. Could be smutty or domestic and cute.

- Hicsqueak first time. doesn't have to be sex (but it can be). It could be first time they do anything. Ie: ice skating together, first date, etc.

- Young Hicsqueak building staff/wand for Hecate to have more control over her magic and learning how to use it 

- Pippa and Hecate dancing

- Pippa already knows about the confinement in S1, how she deals with all the little ways Hecate makes excuses to not do things; and how she eventually reacts to Hecate telling her about the confinement.

- Pregnancy fic - Hecate pregnant. Pippa being the best. Mildred minding her own business.

- Single parent Pippa meets her child’s teacher Hecate @ohlookitstomorrowff

- Hicsqueak flying together on a broom

- Domestic Hicsqueak (I need a lot of that)

- A series of firsts with Pippa, after Hecate is set free

- Hecate is clueless about how attractive she is, and Pippa tries her best not to be jealous (but she so is)

- Hicsqueak as parents (interpret "parents" however you want)

- Going hunting

- Going fishing

- Visiting a planetarium together

- Hurt/Comfort. Mistress Broomhead remarks in front of Pippa that Hecate "continues to have poor taste in companions." Pippa asks Hecate what Broomhead meant by it, and Hecate has to make a choice whether or not to reveal the whole Indigo incident.

- Miss Bat catches Hecate and Pippa out of bed past curfew, but instead of punishing them, she just mercilessly teases them about it for the rest of term.

- Gardening together

- Comparing stories of the weirdest stuff they confiscated from students

- Playing poker

- “Have you done this before?" @hovercraft79

- Forehead kisses

- Adventuring to find rare ingredients for Hecate's experiments that the school can't afford @cliotheproclaimer

- Visiting Pentangle's Academy for the first time

- Candlelight supper

- Hecate introducing Star to Pippa

- Playing Mario Kart

- Pippa shows Hecate all the video games she's confiscated from her students, one of which is Skyrim. (I bet Hecate would be a closet GTA5 player after)

- Ethel saw their first kiss and is about to cause havoc

- Playing billiards

- They have a fight at Cackle's and Pippa leaves but Hecate chases her and slams into the barrier and falls off her broom and that's how Pippa finds out about the confinement @allthosegaywitches    

- What if Hecate encounters [a siren] and it takes the form of the person she desires most and Pippa is there to save her or vice versa

- There was a post not too long ago where it was discussed that its possible many girls had crushes on Hecate. So my prompt is: Pippa keeps them unknowingly all away from her Hiccup and years later at a reunion Hecate realized how many girls liked her while Pippa realizes how she really feels about Hecate.

- "I was afraid of what you'd think of me." @maybegarbo

- A fic about/involving musical harmony as a chant method - how did Pippa come to decide this was a better way of doing it, for example? (either gen or shippy)

- Hicsqueak picnic

- Pregnancy fic because there’s not enough of those... Bonus if Hecate is the pregnant one

- Fake dating

- Hicsqueak discovering their favorite ways to snuggle

- Pentangle's academy is under attack Pippa is struggling against the enemy but Hecate comes to protect and save her wife (and the academy)

- Pippa is injured/sick and Hecate takes care of her @cliotheproclaimer

- Hicsqueak wedding

- End of year, the graduating girls play pranks on the teachers and this year someone magicked a mariachi band to follow Hecate around ALL DAY and every time she vanishes them they just reappear with one more band mate

- Staff party at the end of the year Pippa is invited too; Hecate doesn't like those parties and so never shows up but since this year Pippa is going she might go as well too

- Mildred yelling, "Ethel, if you don't stop being a homophobe, DuRIng PRide mONth, then I will yeet you out the window!!!" @firesofthestars

- Fist fight

- Hecate visits Pentangle's

- Going to festivals together

- The first time Hecate sleeps outside of Cackle's, in Pippa's bed. She knows this is where she belongs.

- Hecate gets sick, Pippa takes care of her

- Accidental magic. Something silly preferable to angsty, but if angst calls to you then by all means. For example: the reason Hecate is nicknamed Hiccup is because accidental magic gave her a case of uncontrollable hiccups. that sort of thing.

- Going to conferences together

- Hicsqueak. Pippa asks Hecate why she didn't lift the confinement spell when she (Hecate) was the acting headmistress (mid season 2)

- Hicsqueak in the aftermath of s3, emphasis on Hecate dealing with her trauma and figuring out how to have a healthy relationship

- Hecate as Pippa's "knight in shining armour" (can be non-magical or magical and from gen to smutty, whatever you make of it). Basically the classic damsel-in-distress-scenario with a badass Hecate coming to the rescue. If swordfighting could be included, that would be awesome!  @well-met-and-good-day-to-you-sir

- AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

- Broomstick racing

- Fake Married trope! 

- Smoking weed together

- Touring witch colleges together/touring the country together

- Camping in the forest (the one surrounding Cackle's or any other)

- Getting drunk together for the first time

- Cuddles

- Pippa-centric, missing Hecate through the years @emiline-northeto

- Hecate-centric, missing Pippa through the years

- After Hecate and Pippa reconcile, their familiars aren’t quite sure how they feel about it.

- Hicsqueak conference fic

- Hicsqueak day at the beach

- Young!Hicsqueak - Hecate lied to Pippa about what happened to Indigo 

- "I don't think I ever stopped waiting for you."

- Pippa has always known about Hecate’s confinement and the hurt over the broomstick display came from her belief that Hecate didn’t have enough faith in them.

- Pippa finds out about Hecate’s confinement - and not from her.

- Fic where Hecate reconnects with her parents after the confinement is over - with Pippa’s support, of course.

- Hecate's favourite colour is pink 

- "You're an idiot" 

- Wedding fic 

- Baby fic 

- After the s3 finale, Hecate discovers the world with Pippa by her side 

- 5 trips Hecate and Pippa take together 

- 5 things Hecate wore that weren't her standard black dress @maybegarbo

- 5 times Pippa tapped Hecate's nose after Spelling Bee (bonus, but not obligatory: and one time Hecate tapped Pippa's) @shafeferi 

- 5 times Hecate and Pippa almost kissed (and one time they did) 

- Pippa gets abducted and Hecate loses it and tries to find her 

- Heat-of-the-moment kissing 

- Either of them gets implicated in a crime and there's ample evidence against them, so they go on the run, but the other is fiercely on their side and helps them any way they can / goes on the run with them 

- Coming out 

- Ace!Hecate @amillionmillionvoices

- Pippa is on the brink of getting married, and Hecate is heartbroken but doesn't think it's her place to say anything 

- One year, seven months, three weeks and two days  @ephemeral-winter

- 5 sunsets they saw together 

- "Ask me to marry you again" 

- Emotional scars 

- Morning routine 

- One day in the life 

- Hecate is bored in a meeting and decides to text Pippa on her maglet, Pippa texts back immediately 

- Pippa is ill, Hecate takes care of her and/or vice versa 

AU

- Doctor Who AU

- Persuasion (Jane Austen Novel) AU

- AU where they're Sirens and they have to deal with Odysseus. Or even about when Demeter gave the Sirens wings to search for Persephone

- MERMAIDS!

- Pirates

- AU in the Harlots universe @concreteangel1221

- Space commanders (Star Trek/Star Wars)

- Crime syndicate

- Street racers

- An AU where they go to Woodstock '69

- Middle earth

- Hecate lives above a bar, and is always angry about the noise. Pippa, the proprietor, has something to say about that. 

- Westeros

- Titanic AU, except there was enough room on the door! 

- Notting Hill AU

- Skyrim

- Witch in the Woods AU: Hecate does Pippa a favor, in exchange for her first-born child. But when Pippa shows up, distraught, 15 years later with a baby, Hecate wants no part of it.  @merricatsgarden

- Georgian Era

- Bus drivers (bus driver... what bus driver?)

- Stealing a car together (au)

- Dragon trainer. Pippa is gifted a dragon and needs someone to help her train and handle it. Enter Hecate Hardbroom, the Dragon Whisperer.

- Detective AU (potentially a bit humorous, a la Tommy & Tuppence or Psych, for example)

- Hecate is a college professor and Pippa is an older student returning to get her degree and the two fall in love

- Fluffy Harry Potter au where Hecate frequents nocturne ally for potions ingredients.

- Hicsqueak Victorian au

- Flirting / UST

- Heatwave

- Business woman/bakery or tea show owner AU

- Library AU @hovercraft79

- Medical AU

- Teacher/parent au @thegeneralisalive 

- Potions shop / magical pharmacy / similar au

- Soulmate au

- Spies / secret agents au

- Space au

- Princesses AU

AR (Alternate Reality) 

- AU: the thirty years of separation didn't happen, what are their life like now? (Living together, happily married, children?) @captaintangledmess

- Hecate's ~25 years old, she is given one day out of Cackles, what does she do? (Run to Pippa + drama ensues? Go somewhere else? Try to get Pippas help and they live happily ever after?)

- A canon-divergance AU where Pippa does end up with Ada's job in s2 and they have to work as a team. Lots of angst material there

- Pre-Spelling Bee and ignoring the whole stupid s3 confinement plot. Hecate and Pippa run into each other over the years at events, conferences, etc. @pellucidthings

- Hecate gives up her magic to restore the founding stone at the end of s2 @amillionmillionvoices

- AU where Hecate DOES show up to the broomstick waterskiing display, but someone sabotages her broom, and she crashes. Lots of #feelings and Hicsqueak hurt/comfort

- Tattooed!Hecate AU where Pippa has no idea that almost every inch of her is inked until she undresses her for the first time... @maybemoira / MauraMae

- AU where Hecate’s ‘confinement’ is because she’s a werewolf. @maybemoira

Gen

- Gen-Hecate, she discovers she has a sister 

- Hecate tutoring Mildred without being prompted or ordered to do so.

- Hecate supporting Maud during a difficult time @marvelousmadmadammim

- How Pippa came to found her school 

- Dimity being a friend to Hecate after the events of s3

- Dimity and Pippa becoming friends at a staff party or conference 

- A student comes out to Hecate, and she has to figure out how to handle it/how much to reveal about her own life

- 5 people Pippa came out to over the years (bonus + 1 she didn’t) @shafeferi 

Lyrics/Quotes

- Bastille's song JOY. Either take a line or just the song in general

- ‘But I'm on my way back home / It's been hard to be away’ (Dying Day- Brandi Carlile.)

- Interpret the poem "One-Act Play In Which Not All Problems Can Be Solved, & Not All Problems Are Problems, But Even So, Some Are" by Dalton Day, for Hicsqueak in light of S3, especially the bit that goes "ME: I have hands. You said you are scared of things like hands. Are you scared of my hands? YOU: Yes. ME: You have hands, too. Are you scared of your hands? YOU: Yes. ME: What if we traded hands?"

- Take the poem "One-Act Play In Which We Float Facedown In the Center Of A Lake, A Position Known As The Dead Man's Float" by Dalton Day as your starting point. Make me cry.

- Baby take me outside / kiss me in the moonlight / i just want you to touch me / i don't wanna waste no time (léon - surround me)

- I am no good at goodbyes / i never was and i don't know why / tell me, tell me that it was love / that it was real, remember all / that you have me if you still want me / baby, i'm no good at goodbyes / i never was and i don't know why (léon - no goodbyes)

- Want You Back by HAIM

- Supercut by Lorde

- ‘Will you lie here for me?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘She’s seen the pain that comes with your displeasure’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day I’ll walk in the open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘They tried to keep me down, but I said no’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Let me tell you losing is not a game I play’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I sit here in the darkness, waiting for the light’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I know I got ‘em beat’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Watch me fly away’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day I’ll walk in the open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Maybe some day we’ll tell the world’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Into your wildest dreams I’ll fly’ (Lizzie)

- ‘You’ll see my face in every night sky’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Lock away your secrets, lock away my life’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I was a trembling child’ (Lizzie)

- ‘But now I see my troubled soul reflected’ (Lizzie)

- ‘What I don’t see can never hurt me’ (Lizzie)

- ‘But I’m more afraid to stay’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Settle cozy dark as sleep’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I want to sleep with my eyes half open’ (Lizzie)

- ‘You didn’t choose what side you’re on’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I’m standing looking forward in the dark’ (Lizzie)

- ‘It’s just us girls’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Don’t let them see how the fire burns’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Who told you that?!’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Will you bite through the skin to the sweet truth within?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Will you stay?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘In every room a prisoner of a long silent war’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Sometimes you say the words, but this is not love’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I know if I stay here longer it’s gonna turn out bad’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Would you let me comfort you, if you knew?’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I can barely breath tonight’ (Lizzie)

- ‘A secrets just a lie’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Every night I dream of you’ (Lizzie)

- ‘The violence of freedom’ (Lizzie)

- ‘My silver wings are pinioned with green gold’ (Lizzie)

- ‘I feel myself disintegrating’ (Lizzie)

- ‘Oh that I had wings like a dove’ (Lizzie)

Smut/NC17

- Pippa persuading and watching Hecate touch herself

- Hecate’s first visit to an “adult” toy store with Pippa as an equally wide-eyed guide.

- Pippa telling Hecate all the dirty things she wants to do to her

- Hicsqueak smut, not first time, they're both happy and confident in their sexuality and relationship

- Dom!Hecate has Pippa in "detention" 

- Cuddle sex

- Angry sex

- Kisses/hugging/sexy times

- Pippa buying lingerie for Hecate and telling her how much she'd love for her to wear it // she does

- Hecate’s first time

- Hecate stripping for Pippa, feat. a nervous Hecate and a reassuring Pippa who has Hecate on her lap as soon as she can.

- Pippa calling Hecate "Good girl", Hecate calling Pippa "Miss Pentangle" during sex.

- 5 times hecate went down on Pippa

- "I hate this dress." / "then take it off me."

- Dom!Pippa telling Hecate when she can/can't cum - up to you if Hecate does or doesn't do as shes told.

ART

- Kisses! Sweet, passionate, you name it, any kiss. but Hicsqueak art of kisses would be really nice.

- Doctor Who AU

- MERMAIDS!

- Pirates @kayryn

- Space commanders (Star Trek/Star Wars)

- Crime syndicate

- Hecate stripping for Pippa, feat. a nervous Hecate and a reassuring Pippa who has Hecate on her lap as soon as she can.

- Street racers

- Middle earth

- Westeros @kayryn

- Pippa and Hecate dancing.

- Skyrim

- Georgian Era @kayryn

- Bus drivers (bus driver... what bus driver?)

- Cooking a full English breakfast together

- Afternoon tea @merricatsgarden

- Hecate's first trip to the beach, with Pippa

- Sunbathing

- "I don't think I ever stopped waiting for you."

- Swimming

- Swimming in a moonlit pond/pool. @merricatsgarden

- Stargazing

-  Adult Hecate standing between Pippa and some idiot man/Headbroom trying to hurt her

- Want You Back by HAIM

- Supercut by Lorde

- Forehead kisses

- Hicsqueak kissing under the mistletoe (I know it's not really that time of the year sorry)

- Hicsqueak wedding

- Hicsqueak flying together on a broom

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Life’s Gift chapter 1

This fanfic is based on @concorp‘s child!Scara AU. It’s my first Hermitcraft fanfiction so I’m a little nervous about posting it here but I hope you guys enjoy it :)

.........  

“Oi, Scar!”

  The Hermit looked up from his build in surprise as he heard the yell. He was nearly 200 blocks up; how was anyone close enough for him to hear them? He very quickly found out as he found himself staring at a fully detailed, fifty-block-high dragon sitting atop Grian’s kooky house, with the Hermit himself perched on its left paw. If not for the lack of physics in this world, the whole build would have toppled over by now. However, the dragon was no doubt highly impressive. Not only that but even Scar could see from here that it was at least two blocks taller than his own build. 

  When Grian was sure that Scar had had enough time to take in his build, he grinned and yelled, “Whatcha think?”

  Scar stood back and lifted his hat to Grian with a smirk. “Nice detailing!” he called back approvingly. “The wings especially look pretty cool.”

  “Thanks!” Grian stood up and shot a few fireworks into the air, both Hermits watching them explode in a bright red colour. “Ready to admit defeat?”

  “Hell no!” laughed Scar. “I’m only just beginning! And what makes you think Scara here can’t cast a spell on your little dragon and set it on fire or make it explode?”

  “Because Scara isn’t really alive so he can’t reaaaaally cast any spells on anything,” said Grian cheekily.

  “First of all, Scara’s a SHE,” Scar fired back. “And second, Scara can do whatever she wants! Such mundane things as physics and reality won’t stop my wizard plant from winning me this competition!”

  “Yeah, yeah. Your move, Mr Goodtimes!” crowed Grian, leaping down from his perch. He activated his elytra and soared towards Scar, pulling up at the last second with a firework that exploded right next to the other Hermit’s face. 

  Coughing, Scar rushed to the other side of his build and loaded a firework onto his crossbow. He fired it directly over Grian’s head, and it was fortunate that the Hermit was as far away as he was; it was the perfect distance for the firework to explode right above Grian’s head, nearly knocking the Hermit out of the sky in fright.

  Scar snickered and headed back to the front of his build. He gathered up his two shulker boxes and his ender chest, before gliding back down to the ground. As he headed towards the Nether portal, he took a moment to stand back and admire the effort that Grian, Mumbo, Iskall, and Scar himself had put into their houses--though some of them didn’t even look like houses anymore. Compared to the houses of other Hermits such as Stress and Impulse, Grian’s misshapen house and Scar’s plant monster looked more suited to a fantasy town. However, that was possibly what made them even more special. 

  Scar hopped into the Nether portal and made his way back to the “Oldlands”, as the Hermits had dubbed it. He came out in the shopping district and immediately bumped someone coming towards the portal. 

  “Oh, sorry, Scar,” Cub said, before seemingly realising who was standing in front of him. “Scar, hey! I was just about to come look for you.”

  “Hey, Cub. What’s going on?”

  “Here.” Cub held up the glass bottle he was holding, which held a peculiar lime green liquid in it. It was clearly a splash potion bottle but the colour meant it didn’t look like any potion Scar had ever seen. “Take this.”

  “What is it?” Scar asked curiously, watching the liquid slosh inside the bottle as he took it from his friend.

  “A new potion. Remember that bamboo that started to randomly grow on Scara’s arms last week?”

  Scar nodded.

  “Well, I took a sample to try and find out why it was growing like that. And we both know bamboo isn’t normally useable as an ingredient in potions, but my tests were getting me nowhere so I decided to try it, and for some reason, it made this. I have no idea what it is or what it’ll do; the item ID in my inventory is just “bamboo potion”.”

  “I didn’t know that was a thing,” admitted Scar.

  Cub slowly shook his head. “Me neither. But since I got that bamboo from your plant monster, I thought you should be the first one to try out the potion.”

  Scar stared at his friend in surprise. “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. Besides, I’ve got more samples back in the lab now.”

  Scar directed his gaze down to the potion, rotating his wrist in a circle and watching the potion swirl around in the bottle. “Any suggestions on what I should test it on?”

  His friend thought for a moment. “Something plant-based. It’ll probably react best to something organic, since it’s made from organic matter, itself.”

  “Okay! I’m sure I can find something like that. Thanks, Cub; I’ll let you know what happens.”

  “Do.” Cub shot Scar a smirk. “Look, it may be tempting, but don’t hurl that thing at an end crystal or something else explosive. I can tell you right now that it really won’t end well.”

  “Aw…” Scar’s disappointed groan turned into a laugh. “I love how you know me so well, though, that you knew my first thought would be an end crystal.”

  “Trust me, buddy, I know you better than you know yourself. Now get out there and find something to test this highly unstable potion on.”

  Scar gave his best friend a friendly salute. “Will do.”

[saltiestdemonloves]

CH. 1: Found

DAI Fanfiction

Solas x fem!reader rewrite

Warnings: None

A/N: I’ve had a few requests to continue this and I will, but I thought it best if I re-wrote the first chapter. Please tell me what you think and if any more of you want me to continue this!! ❤❤❤

Solas was traveling with the Inquisitor once again. The attack on Haven was a hard blow and they were in desperate need for healing potions and unfortunately, all of their resources were being used up quickly. 

"We must hurry," Cole says, following closely behind the Inquisitor. His eyes were glassy and distant, still attached to the feelings of the injured that they had left behind.

"We are, Cole," the Inquisitor murmurs, looking over his shoulder to give a small comforting smile the young man. "We're almost finished."

"It would never hurt to get extra," Cassandra says, bending down to pick up some more elfroot. "No doubt the healers would appreciate it."

"I'm inclined to agree," Solas says, crossing his arms behind his back.

The inquisitor sighs, "That will mean we won't be able to search the caves." Solas grimaces internally, he had forgotten about that. How could he? "But you're right. Maybe we'll be able to return on a later trip?"

Idiot! Solas scolds himself. He was so close to finding her and he had to open his mouth. How thoughtless of himself. Solas slows to a stop next to another elfroot plant, he bends down to pick it up. "Inquisitor..."

The young man turns to look at the elf who's brows had remained pinched the entire trip. "Yes?"

"Forgive me, I find the task of getting elfroot and other healing ingredients important but... but can I stay behind?"

"To explore the caves?" The inquisitor's brows draw together, "Was the thing you need to find that important?"

"Yes," Solas exhales. Very important. "Please."

The Inquisitor makes a face and scratches the side of his jaw, "I guess that's fine, you're free to do as you wish, of course."

"Thank you," Solas stands and bows his head politely.

He watches as the Inquisitor pouts slightly, turning back away and mumbling, "Sure would have liked to see the caves too."

Solas pretends to not have heard. Ignoring the glances of both Cassandra and Cole, he continues finding elfroot and fills his backpack up. 

*

By the next morning, the group had what they needed and more. Solas hands his bag of elfroot to the Inquisitor who lifted it onto his shoulder with no problem. "Are you sure you'll be alright exploring the caves on your own?"

The question gives Solas a chuckle. He nods his head and smiles, "Yes, I'm quite sure. I've been doing it for a long time, I'll have no problem resuming where I left off before joining you."

The Inquisitor nods hesitantly before turning away and nodding at Cassandra and Cole who were already waiting on their horses. Cassandra leads her horse up next to Solas, "I do not like this."

"What's there not to like?" Solas asks with a frown. 

"What is so important that you must be left behind? Why can we not return at a later time?"

"It could be an elven artifact, one that can help us. I want to find it before Corypheus does. We have no time to waste."

Cassandra does not look satisfied with his answer but only groans and turns her horse away from him, leading it back to the rest of the group. The Inquisitor, now mounted, tilts his head questioningly, "When should we expect you to return? Or should we come back?"

"Do not worry, Inquisitor. I will be back at Skyhold in no time."

With that said, the Inquisitor and the rest of the group head off, leaving Solas on his own. He waits at the camp, watching until they disappear from sight. Once gone, Solas stands with a soft exhale. There are very few moments where he is by himself entirely. He would be lying if he said he wasn't relieved he was doing this on his own. 

It would be easier to find her, instead of pretending to be unsure of which cave she was in exactly, he could follow the trail easily. He would have a chance to explain himself to her. If she would listen that is. Knowing her, she will be angry, and she has every right to be. 

As he walks, Solas silently wonders wher she'll think when she's seen him. He's aged, older than when she last saw him. The thought was a bitter thing to him, already they had a large enough age gap and now. She'll throw a fit when she finds out.

Solas finds the cave where her energy is strongest. It's opening was caved in and with a swipe of his hand, the rubble lifts and moves away. Using veilfire, Solas makes his way inside staying cautious as he goes. When he approaches the aged and weathered statues of himself, Solas can't help but chuckle and shake his head.

Having been here before, Solas now knew where to go. He travels down the long hallways with ease until he reaches her room. Her room. Would it be the same? He had gone through lengthy measures to keep her safe.

The door to the bedroom seemed out of place compared to the crumbling walls of the hallway. It was pristine in condition and looked as if it hadn't aged a day. Wrapping his hand around the handle, Solas exhales slowly, mustering up the courage to face her after all these years.

Pushing the door open, Solas tiptoes in. The room was just as he had left it. He had almost expected dust to layer everything but it was still as clean as before. The room was large and wide and filled with her personal items but he disregarded them entirely. Completely focused on the canopy bed that sat in the middle of the room.

He steps up beside it and pulled back the silky fabric that shielded her from the world outside her bed. As his eyes fall on her, Solas releases a breathy sigh and lets himself slide down onto his knees, "Vhenan."

She was just as perfect as the day he last saw her. Frozen in time. Her hair was splayed out around her in a halo, her lips parted as she breathed slowly. Solas reaches out and touches the skin her, letting his fingers skin across the length of her hand and arm. The magic inside him crackled in response to touching her, almost shocking him. 

He almost didn't want to wake her, knowing that this blissful peace will quickly end. But it was a selfish want and Solas had kept her here long enough.

Sighing softly, Solas stands back up and pulls his hand away from hers. He slowly reached forward and gingerly cupped the side of his Vhenan's face, "It is time to wake up, Y/n." She seemed to react immediately, stirring to life as he spoke his last word.

Y/n's eyelids fluttered and her nose scrunched, Solas fights a laugh when her ears twitch. Slowly, Y/n wakes, cracking her eyes open and squinting against the bright light of her room. She stares ahead for a moment before her gaze slowly drifts to Solas. Furrowing her brows, she blinks blearily, "Solas?"

[scriptchemist]

Hello! I'm writing a Harry Potter fic (if there is no answer to my question, I can always say it's because of magic) where one of the characters is killed by potion experient gone wrong. What kind of chemicals (and the following question which is for a different script blog: where in the nature can I find them?) are needed for an explosion big enough to throw off a human too close to it?

A disclaimer up front – this post is going to deal with the topic of an individual being killed in an explosion-type accident. I’m definitely not going to show you any pictures of that kind of injury, and I won’t even be giving detailed descriptions (that’s @ScriptMedic’s gig, and the topic has already been covered), but I wanted to give everyone a fair warning before proceeding.

This is quite an interesting ask because the scenario you’re aiming for is actually fairly difficult to produce; you need enough oomph™ to get a person in motion, but it needs to be a controlled and directed oomph™ because I’m assuming that after the character is thrown you’d like there to be a body, a building, and potentially even some witnesses left to tell the tale. First we should take a moment to discuss what an explosion is, and the different sorts of explosions you can get from chemical reactions; then we’ll move on to how they might affect the surroundings and an unfortunate individual who happened to be nearby. Finally, I may be able to offer some advice as to how to throw your character and still have them be recognizable at the end of the scene, though it’s going to take some careful planning to do it in a realistic fashion.  

Just so we’re all on the same page, an explosion is a very fast release of stored potential energy, with most of it being released as heat, light, sound, and pressure. Chemical explosives are usually compounds that decompose to release a lot of heat (energy from chemical bonds) and large volumes of gaseous products like nitrogen; the rate of this decomposition plays a large part in how useful a material is as an explosive. So-called ‘low explosive’ compounds decompose by deflagration, meaning that the reaction travels through the material slower than the speed of sound; low explosives include things like gunpowder, pyrotechnics, propellants (propane/gasoline), and many other mixtures of fuels and oxidizers. If the reaction propagates faster than the speed of sound, you have a ‘high explosive’ material that decomposes by detonation. As an example, let’s take a look at something called detonation cord (det. cord), a thin flexible line filled with the high explosive pentaerythritol tetranitrate (PETN). Below is a setup where a bullet is fired from right to left, activating an electronic trigger connected to the end of 16 feet of det. cord. (FullMag’s full video can also be found here.)

PETN detonates at 24-28,000 ft/s, so in the time it takes the bullet to travel the remaining 2.25 feet to the target (moving around 2800 ft/s), the reaction front of the explosive travels 16 feet to catch up with it. If you look closely, you can also see the blast wave from the newly formed gases expanding outward after the explosion – look for the ripple in the air at the top of the frame, or for the wave of dust knocked off the right-hand cinder block as the concussive force of the shock wave moves past it. This high-pressure, high-velocity wave of compressed gas is what causes most of the damage associated with an explosion, but unfortunately we’re going to run into a slight problem if we try to use an explosive to throw a person – humans are relatively small and squishy, which makes them extremely resilient to pressure waves and able to survive much more than you might expect. Here’s one more explosion gif to demonstrate how this works (and this time it’s a splodey-melon):

There are a few things to take note of here, besides the complete lack of eye protection – if the chunk of watermelon rind that struck his head was two inches lower down, that eye may very well have been lost. First and foremost, the individual pictured was completely unharmed by the pressure wave, and the melon shrapnel luckily only caused a welt; you can see the full clip here. However, if you watch the edge of the table you can see it flex down with the pressure of the explosion, and if you look really carefully you can see chunks of debris knocked off the bottom side of the table at very high speed (through a process called spallation). When a pressure wave encounters a solid object, it deposits some of its momentum as kinetic energy and is then reflected off the surface; that energy must either be absorbed or dissipated by the solid, and if the solid is rigid it will crack and crumble. If the solid is squishy and flexible (like a person), it can deform slightly to both absorb and dissipate energy without shattering and falling apart. This table compares damage to structures and humans at various peak blast overpressures in the frame of mining explosions; at peak overpressures of 5 psi, only 1% of humans exposed will even rupture an eardrum, but at this pressure most buildings will collapse. Real-world mining explosions that reach 5 psi overpressures do in fact cause many injuries and fatalities, but it isn’t the pressure that kills – it’s the shrapnel and the blast wind that accompanies large-scale explosions. The other factor protecting a person is the fact that humans have a relatively small surface area when compared to things like tables or walls or buildings, so only a fraction of the explosive energy from a pressure wave can even be absorbed by a person to begin with. In order for enough energy to be transferred to a person to throw them across a room, the explosion needs to be massive.

So what does this mean for your character and their exploding potion? If you want the actual explosion to throw them, you’re going to need something huge; it’s going to take out the room, probably the floors above and below it, and maybe even the entire building/wing of the dungeon. An explosion of this scale involves forces far greater than those holding the body together, so if the character is near the center of it then there isn’t going to be much left at the end; to get this effect from something the size of a potion would also require military-grade high explosives, and they’re not the sort of thing you make accidentally.

There is perhaps another way to achieve the same effect, but with a much smaller explosion – it’s even a plausible accident that could occur in the real world. Consider that fact that the amount of energy in a small firework, which can turn a watermelon into a vapormelon without injuring a person sitting a few feet away, is more than an order of magnitude larger than the energy required to fire a bullet from a gun. The difference here is how the explosion is contained; with the melon it expands in a spherical wavefront and can bounce around and reflect off of things, but with the bullet the explosion is funneled down the barrel, propelling a single piece of shrapnel to a very high velocity. If you can contain the explosive energy of your potion and channel it into a heavy, solid object, it could easily strike your character and carry them across a room, killing them in the process through blunt force trauma.

Perhaps your character was preparing something in an iron cauldron over a small open fire, and instead of grabbing that vial of Horklump juice they accidentally grabbed the hydrochloric acid. Iron (and a number of other metals) will react with hydrochloric acid to produce iron chloride and hydrogen gas; the reaction isn’t particularly fast or violent, and the gentle bubbling and yellow color of the solution might not even be noticed in the bottom of a black cauldron. If your character were to put a heavy iron lid on top and let it simmer for half an hour, quite a lot of very flammable gas would build up, but as long as the lid remained in place it wouldn’t be able to come into contact with an ignition source.  Your character returns and grabs the next ingredient, but as they start to lift the lid off, hydrogen can escape into the room and oxygen from the air can diffuse into the cauldron. The escaped hydrogen is ignited by the small open fire, and it quickly flashes back towards the cauldron, snaking down under the lid where it meets an ideal mixture of hydrogen and oxygen. This results in a powerful explosion with almost all of the force being directed straight up into the iron lid; it takes off towards the ceiling and strikes your character’s head or torso on the way, causing them to fly back and collapse in a heap.

This is just one way to spin this unfortunate tale, but it would give you a plausible potion accident with a readily available material, and it could cause an explosion that (indirectly) kills your character and sends them flying across the room. You could even have any number of people standing around with ringing ears who are otherwise uninjured, and besides that dent in the ceiling you haven’t done much structural damage.

Of course it goes without saying that you are always free to exclaim “MAGIC” at any point to either augment or supplant chemistry and physics, but going that route is entirely beyond the purview of my expertise.

~J

Disclaimer

[gloverdominic92]

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[hufflly-puffs]

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire 

Chapter 27: Padfoot Returns

It is a great example of double standard how both Ron and Hermione get attention for being a hostage in the Second Task, but in very different ways. Ron is seen as a heroic, it is exciting and adventurous, and people ask him to retell what happened. Hermione however gets teased for being the thing Krum would miss the most. And even though it isn’t explicitly mentioned who teases her I’m pretty sure it is by other girls. And I think it tells us something about an almost natural solidarity between men, that doesn’t exist that way with women (or girls). Women should support each other, but very often we don’t. And I think part of that problem is society and how we are to a certain degree raised to see other women as competition. We compete over the attention of men, because men give us value. Which of course is utter bullshit, but I saw enough women in my life constantly comparing themselves to other women and acting like a bitch to know that this behaviour is still quite common. I had to actively unlearn to compare myself with every other woman or to dislike someone just because they had won in the genetic lottery.

With the article about the supposedly Harry/Hermione/Krum-Love-Triangle, what Hermione bothers the most is not what Rita Skeeter made of her (“She’s made you out to be some sort of – of scarlet woman!”), but rather that she invaded her privacy. Nobody but Hermione and Krum know that he indeed invited her over the summer, and given Rita’s reputation she could have made that part up. So instead of just writing an article that let Hermione look bad she wrote one letting Hermione know that she is no longer safe, that she has ways of overhearing private conversations and there is nothing Hermione can do about it.

Also, again Harry and Ron react quite different to the article. Once Ron knows that Hermione was invited by Krum his main interest whether she accepted that invention or not. Unlike Harry.

“‘Don’t lie to me,’ Snape hissed, his fathomless black eyes boring into Harry’s. ‘Boomslang skin. Gillyweed. Both come from my private stores, and I know who stole them.’ Harry stared back at Snape, determined not to blink, or to look guilty. In truth, he hadn’t stolen either of these things from Snape. Hermione had taken the Boomslang skin back in their second year – they had needed it for the Polyjuice Potion – and while Snape had suspected Harry at the time, he had never been able to prove it. Dobby, of course, had stolen the Gillyweed.” – Harry assumes that Snape refers to the Boomslang skin Hermione had stolen two years ago – and reminds the audience that it is an ingredient for Polyjuice Potion – but Snape refers to a recent theft, because this had been the reason Barty Crouch broke into his office after all. But neither Harry or Snape make this connection, neither wonders why someone would need Boomslang skin, or if someone uses Polyjuice Potion.

Snape informs us that Veritaserum is controlled by very strict Ministry guidelines. Just like love potions (who are mentioned in this chapter again as something Hermione supposedly uses) there are a lot of consent issues here. Of course Veritaserum can be very useful, but it also very unethical. The person who is given the Serum has no longer control over what they say. And Snape here threatens to use it on Harry and Dumbledore later uses it on Crouch without giving a second thought about guidelines.

“But Sirius shook his head and said, ‘She’s got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man’s like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals.’” – Oh the irony. Because this comes back to Sirius in the next book, and his treatment of Kreacher, and how it ultimately resulted in Sirius’s death. Sirius obviously had his reasons to treat Kreacher the way he did and obviously he didn’t deserve to die because of it, but still. I recently saw a post about writing subplots and what makes a good subplot, and the thing about the Potter series is that some of the subplots have their ultimately payoff only at the end of the series, not the book where they start. The House-Elf-subplot starts in book 2 with the introduction of Dobby, but Dobby’s story ends in book 7. We see the mistreatment of House-Elves, we see the severe consequences of it with Sirius and Kreacher, and ultimately we see in book 7 Voldemort’s ignorance of House-Elves and Harry’s kindness towards Dobby and Kreacher helping Harry defeating Voldemort.  Anyway, this line always stuck with me, look how someone treats their inferiors not their equals to understand the kind of person they are. It’s a good advice.

“Terror everywhere … panic … confusion … that’s how it used to be. ‘Well, times like that bring out the best in some people, and the worst in others. […]Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorised the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark side.” – You know, back when I was still watching The Walking Dead I think this was something the show did very well (and despite its flaws it is worth to watch it): put people in a very extreme situation (the total collapse of civilisation) and see how some become the best and others the worst version of themselves. And that’s the thing about Crouch: he might have been on the “right” side of the war, but his methods weren’t. It asks the question if the cause justify the means. That it is not just enough to do things for the right reasons but how you do it. And if you tolerate methods that the ones you fight use (torture, murder), what does it make of you? Sirius is right in his claim that Barty Crouch was as cruel as the Death Eaters he tried to stop. That just because he was on the winning side of the war he isn’t necessarily a good man. And we see here how the morality of the series has evolved – in the first book characters were simply good or bad. But the older these characters get the more they realize the world isn’t as simple as that. And it is not just Crouch. By the end of the book we have a character like Fudge, who isn’t a Death Eater or evil per se, but whose actions help Voldemort to gain power again.

“Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic towards him, and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him.” – I’m always a bit conflicted when a character’s motivation is basically just daddy issues (or mommy issues). Yes Barty Crouch wasn’t the best father, and perhaps not a good man. And his son had every right to cut ties with him. It doesn’t justify however that he became a Death Eater and tortured and killed people. It is too easy to blame all of this on his father. A lot of people have messed up childhoods and issues because of it. A lot of them still manage to become decent people. You know as they say: cool motive, still murder.

It is also interesting how both Ron and Hermione try to get Sirius’s approval, how Sirius’s opinion matters the most. Because despite being an adult he treats them as equals, he wants to hear their opinions. And in some ways he falls back to the role he had at school: the popular kid everyone wants to be friends with.

Sirius has no idea what it means that Karkaroff showed Snape his arm, implying he doesn’t know Death Eaters wore their Dark Mark at this point. It could be explained that of course Sirius was imprisoned right after the war ended, and that this particular piece of information only became public after the war and the trials. But Sirius said he had caught up on what happened after his imprisonment, that is how he learned about Crouch and his son, and yet he doesn’t know about the Dark Mark. Just as he is unaware that Snape actually had been accused to be Death Eater, but Dumbledore vouched for him. I think it is rather that at this point of the story this information should not be available for Harry, so Sirius can’t know about it either.

“‘There’s still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn’t, but I just can’t see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he’d ever worked for Voldemort.’” – Oh, you sweet summer child. If Sirius would have known just how much Snape was involved in James and Lily’s death he probably would have killed him, damn the consequences. And while Dumbledore did trust Snape, I wonder if he ever forgave Snape or even liked him, or if he simply used him, because Dumbledore after all is a great strategist.

“He takes his Defence Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I’m not sure he trusts anyone at all, and after the things he’s seen, it’s not surprising. I’ll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters.” – The fact that he was imprisoned and impersonated for a year won’t help Moody’s trust issues. But here we see it again: look at the actions of a man to tell you what kind of person he is. Moody never killed if he didn’t have to. And we see this later with Harry, who uses Unforgiveable Curses, but never kills. He even defeats Voldemort without actively killing him. And that is very important.

“‘Percy would never throw any of his family to the Dementors,’ said Hermione severely. ‘I don’t know,’ said Ron. ‘If he thought we were standing in the way of his career … Percy’s really ambitious, you know …’” – Which of course is already a foretelling of the rift between Percy and his family in book 5. But from a larger point of view, there are several supposedly good characters, and we see how their ambitions and their claim for power corrupted them. Crouch lost his family and reputation for it and became as cruel as the Death Eaters themselves, because he wanted to become Minister of Magic. Fudge refused to accept the truth to keep this position. Percy temporarily cut all ties with his family because of his position and ambition in the ministry. Dumbledore made some regrettable choices in his youth because of it, and lost his sister. Power can corrupt and I think it is Dumbledore who once said it is best given to those who don’t want it, like Harry.

[childrenofathoria-rp-blog]

◆Out Of Character Information◆

Name/Age: Jo, 28 Preferred Pronouns: She/Her Timezone: PST Desired Character: Aaliyah Tenney

◆Character Information◆

(1)  What pronouns will your character be using? Would you like to list their sexuality at this time?: Aaliyah uses she/her pronouns and has no sexual preference. She’s less accustomed to women paying that sort of attention to her and feels more pressure to impress when it happens.

(2)  Any changes or comments? If anything, I might want her to not be one of the first mages to leave the Hallowed Oak just because I want to roleplay out her moving from Southwind to Hala (and I feel like she would have come to that decision a long time ago if she’d been out of the woods for any more than 2 - 3 years).

(3) Why this character? My previous character was much younger when I started playing her and had a “finding yourself” narrative, and when she was aged up for Season 4, I didn’t stick around long enough to really enjoy the new “knowledgeable, opinionated, highly skilled” version of her. Aaliyah is starting at a very different point altogether: unlike Eira whose past was darker and tainted with sadness, Aaliyah is starting her journey with a sense of purpose and a whole clan of people who love her. The world outside the Oak is shiny and new, but among her own kind, she is a master surpassing her elders. When it comes to white magic, she is the one you listen to, defer to, ask for help. Despite her insecurities, she has always fit in until now, and she has to learn to judge who to help and who to trust all over again.

(4) Interpret this character:

I see Aaliyah as someone who was initially very clumsy as a child and had every interest in getting over knocks and injuries as quickly as possible. Her rapidly growing skills made her a bigger risk taker as fewer and fewer physical consequences applied to her, but her perilous beginnings instilled a sense of exactitude in her. To her there’s nothing more important than getting things right, checking and double-checking your answers before committing, especially when the experiment being played with is someone’s health. I can also see her parents being very exacting people - gentle, supportive, but vocal about the fragility of living things.

Her mother was probably a great beauty surpassing her daughter, something Aaliyah tried hard to live up to as the coven saw her face far more often than her mother’s. Once she surpassed the elders and became master healer of the Mighty Oak, it fell upon her to lead younger white mages in their learning, oversee the wellbeing of the entire community, and always be present beside the Forest Sage during great communions as a representative of the coven’s strength and survival. With so many eyes on her, Aaliyah grew addicted to the attention and affection. It is very easy to slight her, but that’s something she discovers outside the Oak, where she’s surrounded by strangers who have no history of loving or needing her. Aaliyah tries not to show it when her pride or vanity have been damaged, but her overly expressive face undoes her every time.

In terms of dress, she has a lifelong love affair with neutral colors, the better to blend into her beloved forest home and feel a part of it. However, I can definitely say that her wardrobe underwent a transformation after leaving the Hallowed Oak: other species did not react too politely to a woman draped in green, crowned with horns, owl mask shielding her face and a tapestry of bones adorning her neck. Now she dresses to blend in - for the most part. When she experiments with colors, they are always the brightest; and her dresses are always cut to allow parts of her body to experience the sun, an aspect of nature that was often absent in the forest.

She can do all the same minor spells any trained gifted human can - stirring the liquids in a cauldron, summoning a broom to her hand, lighting and blowing out a candle - but only her expertise in the branch of alteration magic can rival her grasp of white magic. Some wounds could only be healed by physical alteration, while others needed tending so quickly that only through conjuration could she acquire all the needed components in time. And for moving through the more perilous regions of the Oak, nothing proved more effective than cloaking herself in the dense shadows of the canopy.

I feel like it occurred to her after living among other species for a few years that those who ate certain things seemed more capable and lively, while those who indulged in drink and ate too much meat were slower, more mature in the lines of their faces regardless of actual age. It was by studying this matter further that she stumbled into becoming a gourmand. The better healthy food tasted, the more likely one was to eat it! She considers Nita a powerful ally of public health and visits Hala primarily to stock up on ingredients for potions and meals alike. The werewolf is her go-to person for explanations of each new spice’s qualities, as the world outside the forest has a much greater variety. As a general rule, Aaliyah is eager to listen to anyone more experienced than her in any respect.

Aaliyah is very talkative and ready to share most of her ideas. Her opinions on the monarchy are still developing after a few years of life outside the Oak. King Nathaniel has never touched the Oak or posed it a threat, and that is her primary concern. Still, the forest expanded with speed, almost urgency, ever outward as if on the march. Her neutrality is delicate as she prepares to take whatever side Gaia favors. In spite of herself, she feels uneasy in the company of vampires (“The dead aren’t meant to walk…”).

◆ Interview Questions ◆

Please copy and paste each question along with your answer. Must be in first person, present tense, no minimum length required.

(1) How much time have you spent in the Gardens?

“Oh,” she started, clearly pleased by the question, “So much time, I couldn’t really begin to quantify it. It’s a divine place, not of this world, and near impossible to find” she paused for effect “unless you’ve the nose for it. The scent of the moonrose - too blue to call blue, too fragrant to smell with your nose alone - pierces your very skin as you grow closer to the garden’s edge. But only those that have known it once before can ever know it again, and the first time is always an accident.”

(2) Do you believe any species shouldn’t be extended your kindness when it comes to healing?

“I don’t bear any ill will to any species, I assure you - not even mermaids. All beings have their ways: swallows fly south when the winds grow cold; foxes will always chase rabbits; and moss will always grow wherever it wills.” There was an obvious “but” waiting on the fringes of her words. “We of the Mighty Oak also have our ways. We protect our own, and we respect the balance of life and death. There are circumstances where death is what’s called for to maintain that balance…”

◆Writing Sample:◆

Hastily sitting between her mother’s legs, Aaliyah tucked into her celebratory meal: spit-roasted carrots glazed in sycamore sap; dandelion greens mixed with cherries and figs still coated in dew; a plump leg of hare seasoned with crow garlic, angelica seed, and cloveroot; and a goat’s horn-full of tea brewed from apple blossoms and rain water. Her mother chided her to slow her pace and take care not to spill a drop of the precious drink. “Yes, mum,” she replied shortly, a tad embarrassed but no less famished.

A roaring bonfire towered at the center of a clearing often used for coven observances. The dead were honored there, the newborn welcomed there, and new masters confirmed there. It was a rare, shining place in the Hallowed Oak, unconcealed by thick canopy, where sun and moonlight could touch their entire fold. The whole of the Mighty Oak - elder and younger, mages and even kin whose magic never manifested - gathered tonight in honor of the full moon rain. Each drop that fell to earth on the glowing mother’s watch was sacred and a powerful component for spellcraft. On this night, and only this night, everyone was allowed to drink from the collected reserve.

Aaliyah remembered where she’d been before hurrying back to join the water collection effort, which was exactly where she shouldn’t have been. The still-forming girl’s long limbs had carried her up the branches of a beech tree so tall that she had to climb a different tree to reach its first branch. Although she was at least strong enough to hoist her own weight, this deciduous tower put her endurance to the test.

If she could just take one small peek above the treeline, her hunt for the faes’ moving garden would bear fruit at last. This was a dangerous way to go about finding it, but her elders insisted she must “discover it for herself” - and she was running out of ideas. Her cloak and fox mask rested meters below, tucked neatly between two massive roots. Her thick, dark hair was braided around her wand to keep both safely out of the way. Her body collected light scratches and bruises on the way up - nothing compared to what would happen if she didn’t take each step with assurance.

The young mage was breathless when her head emerged atop the canopy. There was plenty of height left to the beech tree, but there was no need to venture higher. While Aaliyah caught her breath, near-black eyes scanned the new world ruled by sky and great mountains afloat a sea of green. Her desperation to spot anything out of the ordinary was quelled by the beauty that spread out before her. It was a strange feeling, looking down at the entirety of your own world.