#ive always thought about him being an evil wizard so

[doomed-era]

gotta look at the old zelda manuals to figure out if ganon ever got called a wizard

[chaussetteblanche]

just like the wind - IV

A/N: pls this gif is so funny word count: 4'100 (it's a long one) warnings: light violence, misogyny

You are guided to the infirmary so that your wounds can be tended to. The elf tending to you is gentle as he wipes at your cuts and lathers ointment on your bruises. Afterwards, you are shown to the room you would reside in until the arrival of Aragorn and the other Hobbits. There was also talk of a council taking place soon and Gandalf had insisted that both you and Aragorn would need to attend. 

The room is beautiful, much nicer than any room you’ve ever stayed in since you became a Ranger. The five floor-length windows on the right side of the room give view to beautiful waterfalls. The bedding is crisp, white and fluffy. You immediately know you’re going to sleep incredibly well. The rest of the room is decorated with a wide bookcase, a large wardrobe and some plants. A small washroom is adjoined to the room. The elves of Rivendell had been courteous enough to give you some new clothes consisting of beautiful long silk gowns. You are reminded of your childhood, in which you wore the same attires. After taking a bath and washing all the dirt, mud and blood out of your hair and off your skin, you pick out a sage green gown. You leave your hair naturally and smile at your reflection in the mirror before a soft knock on your door is heard. You walk over and open it immediately, finding a young elleth on the other side. She shyly smiles up at you. “Miss, I was told to inform you of the arrival of your companion, the Ranger.” 

“Thank you, little one.” 

She nods before scurrying off. You close the door to your room and set out to find Aragorn. 

As you pass by a spectacularly large door, you hear two familiar voices.

“His strength returns.” You recognize Lord Elrond’s voice. He’s probably talking about Frodo. You stop in your tracks. 

“That wound will never fully heal. He will carry it for the rest of his life,” Gandalf adds. Deciding this might be an interesting conversation, you press your back against the cold wall and listen attentively. "And yet to have come so far bearing the Ring, the Hobbit has shown extraordinary resilience to its evil," Elrond points out, sounding impressed. You can’t help but agree. You had felt its power emanating off Frodo in dark waves, you couldn’t imagine what it must be like to carry it all by yourself. "It is a burden he should never have had to bear. We can ask no more of Frodo," the wizard reminds. "Gandalf, the enemy is moving," Elrond argues, "Sauron's forces are massing in the East. His eye is fixed on Rivendell and Saruman, you tell me, had betrayed us. Our list of allies grows thin." You frown, you had always thought Saruman uncorruptable. "His treachery runs deeper than you know," Gandalf sighs, "Saruman has crossed Orc with Goblin. He's breeding an army in the walls of Isengard. An army that can move in sunlight with great distance and speed. Saruman is coming for the Ring." You want to slap yourself as you realize why Gandalf had been delayed. He had been in Isengard. You curse yourself for speaking to him so badly, and you curse him for not telling you the truth. You would need to apologize. "This evil can not be concealed by the power of the Elves. We do not have the strength to fight both Mordor and Isengard. Gandalf, the Ring cannot stay here," the elf speaks. Gandalf doesn't answer.

The sound of hooves on pavement pulls you away from the interesting exchange. Your gaze turns to the yard on your right and you see about a dozen individuals arriving by horse. They must be here for the council, you think. A few men, some elves and some dwarves dismount their horses, looking around in awe at the striking scenery. As they take it all in, an elf catches your eye. He looks between you and the half-open door, raising a golden eyebrow. You place a finger on your lips, stomach twisting into a knot at the idea of being found out. He nods discreetly and turns away, joining the other elves’ discussion. You breathe out a sigh of relief and watch the large group being escorted to another courtyard.

"This peril belongs to all Middle-Earth. They must decide now how to end it. The times of the Elves is over, my people are leaving these shores. Who will you look to when we've gone? The dwarves? They hide in their mountains, seeking riches, they care nothing for the trouble of others," Elrond continues bitterly, drawing your attention back to their conversation. "It is in men, that we must place our hope," Gandalf tells him. The Elf Lord all but snorts. "Men? Men are weak. The race of men is failing. Too much of their blood had been spilt. Its pride and dignity forgotten. It is because of men the Ring survives. I was there, Gandalf. I was there three thousand years ago when Isildur took the Ring. I was there the day the strength of men failed. I led Isildur into the heart of Mount Doom, where the ring was forged, the one place it could be destroyed. It should have ended that day, but evil was allowed to endure. Isildur kept the Ring. The line of kings is broken. There's no strength left in the world of men. They're scattered, divided, leaderless," he just about spits. You raise your eyebrows, impressed at the strength of his words.  "There is one who could unite them. One who could reclaim the throne of Gondor," Gandalf states. You nod knowingly: Strider. Or rather, Aragorn. You had been pestering him to just consider taking the throne of Gondor for literal decades, but he always gave you this look. You  "He turned from that path a long time ago. He has chosen exile," Elrond drawls, ending the conversation. You walk off before either of them can catch you listening in on their conversation, its contents turning over in your mind.

Your name is called out, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turn around and are met with Aragorn’s glowing figure. He had clearly been in the hands of a healer elf too. And had a bath. You’re incredibly relieved to see him safe and sound. But after your disagreement, you’re not so sure what to say. “Alice,” he greets, pokerfaced. You stomach churns. “Aragorn.” You lift your chin, looking him in the eye defiantly. “You left.” There is no judgement or accusation in his tone. He is simply stating a fact.  “I had to get Frodo the help he needed.” “I’m glad you did.” He takes a few steps forward and you sigh out in relief. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him hard. He chuckles and returns the embrace with just as much energy. Neither of you like it when you fight, and though it is rare, it is bound to happen once in a while with the stubborness you both share. You start walking side by side, no particular destination in mind. You are glad to be in each other’s company again. When you spend so much time with another person, you tend to take their presence for granted. Even a short period of distance can remind you how much you care for that person.  Aragorn touches your hair and shoulder.  “You look better than when I last saw you.” You scoff. “So do you. You should have seen me when I arrived here, I barely recognized myself in the mirror.”  “I am glad you made it out alive, I heard that you fought off the Wraiths. That is no small feat,” Aragorn praises. You duck your chin and knock your shoulder with his, feeling shy at the compliment. “I shall tell you one thing, I vow to never help another Hobbit. It is too much trouble. And you, surviving with only Merry, Pippin and Sam for company is no small feat either,” you joke. He chuckled, shaking his head.

You fall into a comfortable silence as you reach an opening in the hall. It’s dimly lit and smells like old books and humidity. You and Aragorn sit down on a bench, discussing your last few days in hushed tones. You start to tell him about the conversation you overheard previously but are interrupted by footsteps. You shut your mouth immediately, observing a light-brown-haired man step into the hallway. He doesn’t seem to notice either of you as he analyses the painting hanging on the wall opposite of where you were sitting. He walks over to a large stone you hadn’t noticed before. As he approaches it, you realize what lays atop the stone : the shards of Narsil. The man gasps quietly and he picks up the hilt and brandishes it.  “The blade that cut the Ring from Sauron’s hand,” he breathed. You tense up at his actions, wondering how he could dare touch, much less brandish such a piece of history. He runs his index along the blade and draws a drop of blood.  “Still sharp,” he whispers, licking the tip of his finger. Your lips curl in disdain.  Slowly, his head turns in your direction, finally sensing your presence. You have never been good at controlling your facial expressions, which tend to translate your exact feelings. Aragorn raises a brow at the man. 

Seeming embarassed, the man purses his lips and places the hilt back.  “No more than a broken heirloom.” The hilt slips off the stone and falls to the ground with a loud clatter. The man walks away.  “What a delightful man,” you scoff, picking up the blade and carefully placing it back in its rightful place. Aragorn shakes his head and places his hand on his heart. You turn to look at him and see Arwen walking towards the both of you. You send her a smile. “You have a visitor,” you speak to Aragorn, squeezing his shoulder before leaving the two of them. 

The next morning, the council takes place. Your usual clothes had been washed and returned early in the morning, along with your weapons. What the elves had failed to give you was the place in which the council was taking place. You roam through similar halls, trying to find the right place when the same young elleth from yesterday runs up to you. “My lady!” she cries. You stop in your tracks and turn around. “Oh, thanks the Valar! Could you help me find-“ “Yes, yes, follow me!” she orders hastily, running in the opposite direction of where you had been heading. You’re on her heels in a second. You finally reach the right room and you turn to thank her before she all but pushes you inside. You stagger for a second, thrown off your feet before you regain your balance. 

Men, Dwarves and Elves are sitting on wooden chairs in a large circle around a table. You spot Gandalf, Elrond and the Hobbits among them. Naturally, all eyes are on you. You spot Aragorn pinching the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slightly. You curse your luck. Noticing an empty seat between your companion and the elf you’d seen before, you walk over to it, head held high. Lord Elrond purses his lips but starts speaking.  "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it, you will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom." Wary looks are exchanged in the circle. You share a glance with Aragorn. "Bring forth the Ring, Frodo." Elrond motions to the marble stand in the centre of the circle. Frodo stands from his seat next to Gandalf and places it in the middle of the table without a sound. The wizard smiles reassuringly at the young Hobbit as he walks back to his place. You follow his small figure with your gaze, a small smile on your lips. You truly do admire him. He catches your eye and shyly smiles back. Everyone but you, Aragorn and Gandalf leans forward, trying to get a better look at the small golden jewel.  "So it is true," Boromir, the man from the corridor, whispers. "Is it a gift," he declares, standing up, "a gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" he continues, circling the table slowly. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, given the forces of Mordor pay by the blood of our people for your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!" You are impressed by his ignorance of the matter and entitlement to speak about it. Strider, who you feel growing more and more aggravated by the second, finally blurts: "You cannot wield it! None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master." You nod along to his words. "And what would a mere Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir sneers. Your blood boils at the tone of his voice. The elf that you had silently exchanged with before jumps to your Strider’s defence before you can: "This is no mere Ranger, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, you owe him your allegiance." Boromir’s shocked face brings you more pleasure than you would care to admit.

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" Boromir raises a shocked eyebrow. "And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas continues, his jaw squared.  "Havo dad, Legolas, mellon nin," (Sit down, Legolas, my friend.) Strider asks softly. Legolas slowly sits down, but not before Boromir can sneer: "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king." He sits down and glares at Strider. "Aragorn is right, we cannot use it." Gandalf ends the tense silence. "You have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed." Elrond says. Gimli stands up: "What are we waiting for?" He grabs his axe and crashes it against the Ring. Shards of the wood and metal go flying everywhere, and if it were not for your Elven reflexes, you would have ended up with a shard of steel nailed between your eyes. The dwarf is thrown back onto the floor, but the Ring stays untouched. You can’t help but wander how and why these people who know so little about the Ring have been invited to decide what to do with it. "If you had bothered to do your research, Dwarf,” you spit, “you would know the Ring cannot be destroyed by any craft that we possess! It was made in the fires of Mount Doom and only there can it be destroyed!" Everyone sends you surprised stares. Gimli just about growls at you as he sits back down. Aragorn sends you an exasperated look. You ignore all of them, your jaw set. Elrond nods along to your words although he looks deeply irritated by your outburst. “One of you must do this,” the Elf Lord declares. Silence.

“One does not simply walk into Mordor,” Boromir stated the obvious, shaking his head. “Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever watchful. 'Tis a barren wasteland mixed with fire, ash and dust. Every breath breathed is poison fumed. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." Legolas shoots up. “Have you heard nothing of what Lord Elrond just said? The Ring must be destroyed!” “And I suppose you think you’re the one to do it?” Gimli asks gruffly, standing up as well. “Anyone would be better than a dwarf,” you sneer, glaring dagger at him. “And if we fail? What then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?” Boromir asks, alarmed. “I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an elf! Never trust an elf!” Gimli cries, shaking his axe. You shoot up along with all the other elves present, backing Legolas. You stand next to him, and it is only then that you realize how tall he is compared to you. You head just reaches his shoulder. Shaking your head to rid yourself of this distraction, you turn your attention to the group of dwarves standing in front of you, following Gimli’s lead. They start screaming and complaning about elves. Legolas holds an arm our to keep the other elves from getting too involved. He turns to you. “Pay no heed to-“ He is cut off by Gimli spitting out something about ‘stupid, shit-eating, pointy ears’. You take a menacing step forward, towering over the dwarf as you start retorting. Before you can get any words out, a force wraps itself around your waist and gently but firmly pulls you backwards. You hastily turn around, about to berate whoever it is trying to refrain you from assaulting a dwarf, but find yourself flsuh against the Prince of Mirkwood’s chest. Your cheeks warm as you look up at him, words dying in your throat.

“I will take it!” A small voice interrupts the general chaos. Everyone stops talking and turns to the young Hobbit. “I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way...” he trails off, looking at the faces around him. There is silence for a short moment before Gandalf speaks. “I will help you with this burden as long as it is yours to bear.” Strider stands from his seat: “If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will.” He kneels before Frodo. “You have my sword.” You curse. You’d vowed never to help a Hobbit again. You’d been looking forward to going back to your routine with Strider. You decide you can’t let him do this alone. He is like a brother to you. You would not let him get killed by doing something as foolish as saving Middle-Earth without you. You step away from Legolas and face Frodo with a sad smile.  “You have my sword too, little one.” Frodo returns your smile as you move to stand next to Aragorn. You share a meaningful look. “And you have my bow,” Legolas speaks, joining your side without meeting your eye.  “And my axe,” grunts Gimli. You muffle a sigh and share a disgruntled look with Legolas that has you biting back a smile.  “You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done.” Boromir joins your side as well. 

A scream is heard from behind the bushes: "Mister Frodo's not going anywhere without me!" Sam crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look tough after jumping out of nowhere. You let out a small giggle. "No, indeed, it is highly impossible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," Elrond says firmly, though a small smile graces his lips. "Oi! We're coming too!" Merry and Pippin appear out of behind the bushes and run to Frodo.  "You'll have to send us over tied up in a sack to stop us!" Merry continues. "Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of- mission... quest... thing!" Pippin adds. You snort.  "Well that rules you out, Pip," Merry teases. Lord Elrond looks at all of you. "Ten companions... So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." The words hang heavily in the air for those of you involved. Merry and Pippin exchange excited looks.  "Great! Where are we going?" Pippin asks.

As the rest of the coucnil begins to leave and wish good luck to the Fellowship, whose name you find slightly sexist, Boromir approaches Gandalf. He makes no effort to keep his voice down as he asks: “Are you certain we want her on our journey? She is a woman, after all, she might slow us down. She probably fights like a woman too. We don’t need a liability.” You can’t believe the blatant misogyny spewing from his ignorant mouth. Marching up to him, you roughly grab him by the collar and pull him down to your level with force. “Meet me outside in five minutes. We’ll see who slows us down then, you twat,” you snarl before pushing him backwards. You turn and walk off before you can see the shocked look on his face. Strider walks up to him, an unimpressed look on his face. “I hope you’re ready. She’s unstoppable when she’s angry.”

You hear light footsteps trailing behind you as you make your way to the training ground. “My lady, are you certain of this?” “Absolutely.”  “That man has been trained in battle for the last ten years of his life. Are you not aware of who he is?” “Frankly, I could not care less of who he is. He thinks that because I am a woman, I am weaker than him. Not only is that sexist, it is wrong. I plan on showing him just how wrong he is.” You finally reach the training ground. “I’ve trained my entire life. Do you not know who I am? They do not call Ira without reason,” you add hotly, unsheathing your sword. Realization dawns on Legolas as he stands to the side of the training ground, attentively watching you warm up. The entire Fellowship and Elrond follow you. They stand in a circle, making bets. Bets made are: - Strider: Ira (“I trained with her. I know she can beat him easily.”) - Legolas: Ira (“She seems very confident. I trust Aragorn and I have heard the legends.”) - Gimli: Boromir (“I have seen him fight. I have not seen the fiery little lady fight yet.”) - Pippin: Ira (“She looks very scary when she’s angry. And you saw how she handled those Riders, didn’t you?”) - Merry: Ira (“She did handle those Riders quite well...”) - Frodo: Ira (“She save my life.”) - Sam: Boromir (“I don’t know, he looks pretty confident.”) - Gandalf: no bet (“I shall not waste my money on this. But Ira will win.”) - Elrond: no bet (“I will take no part in these infantine games.”)

The Fellowship stands to one side of the arena, watching the two of you closely and hoping whoever they bet on wins. “You can still back out, my lady,” offers Boromir, with a superior air. “Are you saying you’re scared to fight a woman, Boromir?” you taunt. Glowering at you, he shakes his head. He unsheathes his sword and aims a jab at your stomach. You easily dodge. He takes another swing but you dodge again. While his balance is off, you kick him in the stomach. The crowd groans in sympathy for your victim as he topples over. You give him the time to get back up, an amused smirk playing at your lips. He grunts and slashes at you again. You hit the inside of his elbow with the flat of your blade, causing him to drop his sword. You grin and step backwards, as is letting him pick his blade up. He seems surprised by takes the chance anyway. You're not that kind. When the tip of his fingers touch the weapon, you kick it away. He looks up at you from the ground and you loosely point the tip of your sword at his neck.  Thinking you don’t know that you are holding your blade wrong, he easily kicks it out of your hand and scrambles back to his feet. He lunges for his sword but you tackle him before he can reach it. Pinning him down with a knee on his throat and the other on his abdomen, you hold his wrists above his head with one hand. With the other, you’re pressing your dagger against the skin of his cheek. “This is me holding back,” you whisper in his ear. “Do you still think that because I am a woman I will slow you down?” He hastily shakes his head, a choked sound coming from his throat. You nod and get off him before standing up and dusting yourself off. He massages his throat, looking up at you with surprise and respect etched onto his features. You offer him your hand, which he gratefully takes before you pull him to his feet.

“You wish you could fight like a girl.”

[c0rvidbones]

hello I love your art a whole lot!! tell me more about Wit (he's hot and evil and I require more juicy details) and Ruby (his design goes so hard) please?

oh my god hi i did not expect to come back to 20 notifs. (/pos) youve given me a much needed ego boost tonight thank you. is it bad i cant remember having ever posted ruby art?? ive only ever gotten One comm of him which is a crime, my violent martyr son should rly get more love than i give him 😔 but thank you for asking! buckle up this is gonna be a long fuckin post ♡ everything under the cut including relevant character art

WIT

behold, all art of wit i have including one i havent posted here bc i never actually finished it and the wip of him being a silly giggly boy. pls know i came up with him like MAYBE a month ago. two, tops.

SO wit is actually a what-if au of another oc of mine, his name is doodle. doodle (seen below) is a very robin-hood-esque oc, honorable thief and kindhearted, swashbuckler rogue that dual wields rapiers bc hes insane. but hes insane in like a normal way. he was a horrible child but he did grow out of it and its rare to see him w his hair down so pardon me making him look absurdly pretty in that one.

as you can see there are some (but not MANY) differences between the two. kid wit does have the starry hands/peets im just forgetful dont @ me about it djdjdj

ANYWAYS so the what-if of the au that wit is, essentially, little singular things didn't happen to people in that au world. it goes like so;

wit: never met his childhood best friend when he was a freshly injured orphan. was alone from the (elf) ages of 0-16. ended up studying magic (illusion wizard) since he didn't have someone to lean on for that sort of thing.

laika (wit's mom): never truly broke out of an archfey's madness curse. stuck with a very twisted version of the spell Tasha's Hideous Laughter burned into her mind. everything is funny and if it's scary? even funnier. she died briefly. shes back now, but still madnessed.

perseverance (wit's dad): never saved his mother from a death blow in the be-all end-all fight to save his home. was held back by someone who he thought was a friend, killed that person and then ultimately spiralled so hard that he became a lich. may or may not have accidentally killed laika.

something something one decision can change your whole life, me and my friend loved playing with that concept.

okay now that you know a lil lore/history i can dive into what wit is like.

as a kid (drawn with the short megafloofy hair) he's very mischievous and bastardly, almost always smiling or grinning but it's more to lean into the uncanny valley effect his eyes cause than out of any actual joy or anything. he doesn't Blink and he knows it unnerves people because he also has a freakishly high insight (i think its like a +9 or smth??? at level 9??). he loves to come up with fucked up spells, like. for example i saw a silly post on here the other day that was very jokingly having a wizard cast a spell of "10000 bricks until you die" but then i was immediately aware wit would (1) come up with that spell, make it functional, and have it unfortunately obliterate everyone that gets hit with it, and (2) he would call it Wit's Bricks which i think is fuckin funny. he would also come up with spells of like. cause heatstroke. boil all fluid in your body. FREEZE all fluid in your body. he's a little freak with extremely low empathy for those he isn't connected to with blood ties. that said, he's kind to his family (albeit very blunt and will call them out if theyre being stupid) and inquisitive. he DID look his dad in the eye when he met him for the first time and went "are you dead?" which. again, hilarious, but BRUTALLY blunt. he then called his dad cool because yes his dad is now a lich and therefore undead. he's a little freak but he's still a kid and that is ultimately his saving grace, what small child isn't a little freak.

as an adult (long ponytail) i get a feel of him being aro and using romance as a way to manipulate people. he's definitely still not a good person and far more stoic than he was as a child. also he most definitely maintains a constant illusion to make it seem like his eyes are always closed, which lends an air of mystery to the strange elf that seems to always be standing right behind every throne in every kingdom of faerun. i say this because i like to think he would become what's called a King's Wit, which is like a combo of royal advisor, court mage, and "guy the regent has insult other nobility since insults are beneath the reigning royal". he uses all of that to his advantage, gaining the ear and trust of every single person of noble blood that is part of any royal or ruling court, and he will bend and twist their choices so subtly that they won't realise he led them to ruin until it's already too late. which is his ultimate plan. he's STILL somewhat a robin hood style of character, but he takes it a bit further and with far less kindness to the nobility. he guts their coffers completely and every hoarded coin down to the last copper inevitably will land its way conveniently into the lap of the common folk. he does take a healthy chunk for himself - did you know being a wizard was EXPENSIVE in dnd btw? i didnt until i made wit - but most of it is for the local citizens. he does this everywhere he goes if he sees that it needs to happen. fucker topples kingdoms For Fun, because he never gets caught or credited with the ruin he leaves behind himself. he's awful. he probably still comes up with fucked up spells and he manipulates his way into wherever he wants to be. i love him.

---

RUBY

behold! @polterpumpkin drew my (not very) little guy for me! this is part of a greater set but this is the fully coloured one and arguably my fave bc it captures the absolute batshit energy ruby brings to the table.

ruby is a tiefling that was born in a lab. voluntarily, his parents participated in a sort of study that wanted to eval why it is tieflings could be born to non-tiefling parents. (both his parents are half-orcs, interestingly!) he participated in it up to a certain point, before he got sick of being poked and prodded and Watched. that's when he demanded to be released and, when he wasn't, both his parents helped him escape, unfortunately leaving his other two tiefling-born siblings behind in the process. both parents Died helping him escape, and he was embittered as is by the whole study bs, and then to have his parents die Saving him? it left him with this sort of hole he didn't know how to feel.

so he fills that hole with every vice he finds agreeable. he drinks, he fights, and he drinks again. he's a drunken monk, and one full of unbridled rage and a death wish. he isn't my happiest oc but he isn't my worst off (that would be talisman bloodhunter). he's constantly seeking a grand and worthy cause to die for, literally. he's a wannabe martyr, because he doesn't think he has anything to live for. no lovers, no friends, no allies, MAYBE a coworker or two on the occasion he's needed (he is so not needed most of the time, because it isn't often any job needs an angry monk tief to glare around the place). he has just those two sides to himself - party animal and underground drunk brawler - because he doesn't want to think about the pain underneath them both. he's tragic in a very human way, hilariously enough, but he's not a bad person. even if he's being dragged by the tail to do a job, he's ultimately going to be helpful and he ALWAYS keeps his team alive. he'll grumble about it but he'll do it, and if you thank him he brushes it off, muttering something or other about how it's just his job, don't Thank him for that. i think having a friend would Fix him but fuck if i know what would get past his thick skin 😔

i dont get to play or write ruby really, not for any specific reason other than the dnd games im in have been going for So long, and that i havent really been super inspired to write him. but i love him! literally my car is named after him! i have so many feelings for him and i hope one day i get to play/write him so he can be more fleshed out.

[mendedrum]

My discworld review after the first 17 books

1. Rincewind Series

I think the writing got stronger over time as the narratives became more plot driven. I still like the mystery/nondirectional aspect of TCOM and TLF though. There was an unpredictability about it that would be challenging to replicate with a main character that isnt like Rincewind: i.e someone who pretty much wants to live in boring times. Sourcery still bothers me the most. Firstly because the Wizards didnt get true repercussions about the damage they did. Secondly, while Sourcery ended on strong note, the sequel Faust Eric betrayed everything we've learned about Rincewind and the Dungeon Dimensions. It cheapened the drama invested on Sourcery and I found that aspect annoying. Interesting Times tho, picks up Rincewind's characterization once again and puts it back on the track, except that it doesnt explain what happened to Rincewind's status as a demon-bound-to-a-mortal kind of creature. It was great to see Rincewind showing off his political skills though. It's a good nod to his character being more attached and connected to the wider world compared to his wizard colleagues.

2. Wizards subseries

It's great that they've been fleshed out over time and over so many books. I like that since they're in Ankh-Mopork, they'd eventually get involved in many of the events that happen there. I like that their politics and power struggles are contained to mostly their own and don't really bother with the rest of the world. It's a refreshing POV to be in. Most surprising were their involvement in Mort, Moving Pictures, Reaper Man, Lords and Ladies, Men at Arms and Soul Music. They help expand the worldbuilding better. I still dont like The Bursar's characterization being sacrificed to make Ridcully a bit more respectable tho.

3. Death

Why is it that every major Death story just revolve around the thesis of "what happens when death gets distracted from his job"? Like I know why of course, he's so damn efficient that without him doing the work, everything in time-space just falls apart and tries to correct itself. Anyhow. Pratchett's Death is still the best take on real world death for me. It has helped me go thru difficult times, over grief and over the celebration of life. Death being one of the heart of Discworld is what makes Discworld truly a gift. You'll probably have to pull teeth for me to finish Reaper Man tho.

4. City Watch / Night Watch / The Watch

I haven't gotten far in these subseries but I do know that whenever cops are involved their ought to be high stakes suspense/thriller/action and drama. It's where Pratchett can truly flex on his whoddunit writing style. I find a lot of the narratives pretty standard action-thriller wise. Samuel Vimes is still my favorite of the bunch. I just cant get behind the character of Carrot, unfortunately (stop chasing me with pitchforks)

5. Witches

I'm gonna be honest. I dread the Witches subseries the most not because they're bad but because they tend to be dragging. With the exception of Equal Rites, the coven trio of Esmeralda Weatherwax, Gytha Ogg and Magrat Garlick leads the reader to familiar fairytale paths only for it to get upturned at the end. There are always lessons in the ongoing battle of what it means to be good, to be evil and most of all to be human. That's what make them slow at first. Reader must endure that feeling of "yeah ive been here before" for quite a long while. The payoff is always interesting nd thought provoking though, which makes everything worth it. I still dont know what to feel about Esmeralda Weatherwax being the universe's ultimate trump card. (Kinda same like rincewind and they both hate it)

6. Industrial Revolution

My favorite of all the subseries. Not a lot of people like them and they always get skipped in most reading lists but I often find the stories as the most shocking and creative. I like how they expand on the worldbuilding. I like the blatant parody on how the real world works. I like it when new character, beliefs and industries are introduced. I always thought I'd prefer the other subseries more but here I am lol. Cant wait to read the others.

Anyhow these are my discworld thoughts afer reading the first 17 books. Up next is Maskerade (which is making me groan coz i just finished Witches Abroad, which was very cool in fact and Maskerade is still Witch-centric)

But you can always not read them in publication order, one might say. But i wont do that. I'm a masochist unfortunately.

[wizzycore]

helo fellow spider enjoyer :]] a tuppence for any spider headcanons ? or any thoughts u had abt him lol

thank u for the interactions on the internet btw it gives me serotonin <3 happy to have someone to cobpost with

HIIII!!! my fic is totally my dump for spider related headcanons but here are a couple off the top of my head!

- spider saw mellori as a child not knowing she was the daughter of raven. one way or another thru prophecy or vision or just showing up thru somebody else (#posession)...i have a sillier differenter fic abt this interpretation of his mirage battle dialogue but its very sweet to think about hahahaha.

- ive always had underdeveloped thoughts abt how spider sees spiral peoples, especially as some of them (such as aztecans) descend directly from first world peoples rather than having been created theoretically after the titan war. but somehow spider's attitude (if he is to be believed) toward the yw i think indicates smth abt how he sees mortals in the spiral. he talks a lot of shop about how he doesn't care for any of the spiral or its peoples because his ex made it, that they're all weak or fodder but he is still grateful for what the yw had done for him even if it were prophesized. even if it were essentially "fate" at that point - spider recognizes that even if the yws actions to help him were done under coercion (from himself or others) they were still kind actions to him - they made him say that the yw was "one of their favorite things the spiral made" bc of that act. you wouldn't necessarily tell that to somebody you regard as a puppet that was bound to do those things anyway. (ofc he could've been sweet talking us but i choose the belief that theres part truth in it-) TLDR: spider ascribes a very interesting free will to certain spiral beings despite manipulating their fates massively over the years -- and i think that indicates more of a kind opinion toward the spiral than he lets on.

- my funniest spider hc is that he loves knitting and like fabric-related arts because he's good at it and better than raven. you just know the motherfucker is making sweaters in the husk

- his blood contains the purest form of shadow magic. a reason among other things that the chaos heart is one of the most powerful shadow artefacts in the spiral. theoretically other body parts of his are up there as well in terms of power. but luckily for him they arent removable.... as far as we know

- another reason why spider is fond of the yw is because spider himself was essentially the first wizard/first teacher of wizards - bartleby doesn't betray either witchiness or wizardry honestly i think "druid" is a legitimate camp to be in and bartleby is there -- raven is overtly witchy -- i think spider is in his own way incredibly wizard-y and mage-like. i always like to think he gave nuggets of his knowledge to the spider mages and guided their studies for a time...and the reason why people dont speak abt wizardrys root in spider is bc of raven's casting of him as ultimate evil in spiral mythologies. the role of guide to wizards is given rather ambiguously to bartleby instead...

- this hc is silly but. the divinities eat azoth. spider subsisted on that shit even in the black hole. idc that immortals don't need to eat i think it'd be funny if they ate azoth. consume ancient magics my boy

- tho raven and apider settled down in the husk, they still watch the yw but dont say nothin. spider COULD step in and narrate but why would he. all of arc 4 is so literally not his business at all ur on ur own wizard. however spider gossips about the yws goings on in lieu of being helpful literally at all.

- spiders favorite non-shadow schools of magic r storm and myth bc they're the most chaotic ::::)

- spider isn't taking to divorce therapy very well at all. 💋

[sir-sunny]

WE’RE OUT HERE ive done some headcanons, but here’s an au for you and some other thoughts. (uhhhh… let’s go with Lavender)

every day thinkin about v3-sdr2 talentswap Detective!Chiaki, Astronaut!Sonia, and Assassin!Gundham.

-Sonia’s leadership skills on full display!!! She gets to bond and talk to her classmates more, especially Gundham and Chiaki.

-Sonia and Chiaki are OBVS gay. Look at them. There’s no heterosexual explanation.

-Love the idea that Sonia and Gundham still connect fairy quick. That way, the assassin reveal is more “Even though you hid things, I still trust you! And to prove it to you and everyone, I’m still gonna try and hang out with you and even get you and my homosexual girlfriend to hang out!”

-Plus Gundham and Chiaki potential friendship dynamic is always so fun to think of. I just think they vibe together.

-Chiaki likes fictional mysteries more than real ones. She finds them less complicated, but this does cause her to think in terms of the killing game more often. If it’s all clear cut and morally simple, it’s a lot easier. But alas.

-Also decided that Gundham still has that scar on his eye, but it’s for sure real now. He first claims it’s from a kid with scissors. Post-reveal he says it’s from a botched mission. Who knows the truth? (hint: it’s the first one)

-Other relevant swaps include! Pianist!Hajime and ???!Nagito, for that extra layer to chapter 1. Also Peko gets Kokchi’s talent. She deserves it. She can be the rival character this time. As a treat.

-ALSO IN GENERAL. I think Gundham would be real good with kids. He out here lar as an evil wizard every day for funsies. Kids love that shit theyd eat it up.

-I just think Kaito and Sonia would get along. They’d be besties. They have a fair amount in common. Smarter than they’re given credit for, good leadership skills, very friendly with a desire to believe in everyone, a tendancy to maybe on occasion think they know better and can handle things alone.

YES YES TALENTSWAP

ult astronaut sonia is so good!!!!!! aaaaaaa!! thinking abt her raving about space is so sweet!!! she'd be so passionate and exciteddd omg her and kaito are such positive and strong forces it works so well (and yes, wow they would be rly good friends)

AUGH sonia and chiaki kaito-and-shuichi-like friendship!! sonia's so supportive of her and she believes in her and she stands up for her and aaaaAAAAAAAA

ult assassin gundham is GREAT omgomg he's infinitely more intimidating and everyone is scared of him. but sonia and chiaki are willing to give him a chance and trust him

detective chiaki is also super good cuz she's super smart. i feel like investigations and trials, she'd spend a really long time thinking things through and ppl would be like "youre the ult detective, we need answers quick!!" and they'd overwhelm her and sonia and gumdham would step in and defend her like "step down! chiaki owes you nothing!" and "her genius simply takes time. in the meantime, why dont you cretins make yourself useful and stay out of her way"

oUhGH nagito and hajime being the first to die 😔 and YES!!!! PEKO ANTAG I L O V E IT (this au keeps getting better and better im so pumped)

[daydream-believin]

Never-Ending Roadtrip (Autumn in New York, pt 1)

Summary: (ch 1)  (ch 10) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - chapter 9) new york tourism and some relaxation for a stressed-out emo wizard

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol mention, implied nudity (just a bath)

Word Count: 3542

A/n: Go listen to ‘autumn in new york’ by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong to set the mood for this chapter and the next lol. i do like lovecore i promise. also this was going to be it but ive split it up. enjoy

Douxie was very careful to take inventory. One head, two head, dragon head, his own head. All accounted for. Four heads, no more no less. Not even a pesky stowaway gnome. His family was together. Up in the air, on the ship, winding blowing through their hair. Douxie could see sky scrapers on the horizon.

The trolls had been cordial in their goodbyes, but made no effort in giving the impression that they wanted the wizard family to stay any longer than they had. In fact, it was discouraged if not outright. The trolls almost gave off an aura of relief when they faded from view of the settlement. But that was understandable. Douxie’s family had caused a bit of trouble during their stay.

Bagdwella was certain that Archie was a bad omen for her shop and would freak out whenever he tried to enter. Y/n had been a bit confused and tried to explain to her that black cats were in fact supposed to bring wealth, not financial ruin, but apparently Bagdwella had been thinking of an old trollish superstition about dragons instead. Y/n had no counter to that.

Nari had no real knowledge of how money worked, and was determined to make that Douxie’s problem. And the problem of all the trolls in the shops of the town. There was a bit of a problem with her “dining and dashing” in the pub, the one troll eatery in the still developing town. Poor thing had no idea food costs money. Someone had always been around to feed her. Douxie and Y/n almost couldn’t keep up with the demand of sweaty socks they had to produce in order to pay the annoyed barman. Turns out it was somewhat hard to make sweaty socks when you’re actually trying to. It was like their feet realized what was happening and couldn’t pass up an attempt to make their owner’s lives harder.

As much as dear Y/n prided herself on being tolerant, she and Dictatious were going round and round. It was easier to ignore the guy when she didn’t have to live in close quarters with him but that luxury was lost on this stay in Trollmarket. Y/n and Dic argued every time they were in close proximity. She couldn’t help it. The old troll had opinions, and those opinions were wrong. And don’t even get Y/n started on how sad and then angry he made Blinky feel with the whole dead, wait not dead just an evil traitor, wait now he’s okay somewhat, thing. And his personality was shit. Peace was never an option.

Needless to say the trolls were in fact happy to send off the wizards. Douxie was happy to no longer suddenly hear a clatter and then instantly get a headache knowing it was probably one of his problems. They had only been in Trollmarket a few days. Okay so a week, they had stayed there a week. It was only seven days. Eight actually. So to say, they hadn’t been there long enough to cause any real problems. And now they were headed to New York. New York New York.

Douxie was ready to get some quality romance in with his wife. Autumn in New York was perfect for that. The city streets glowed with life. A nice stroll down the sidewalks painted in golden light, arm in arm, carrying the warmth in their hearts and bodies with them, was just what they needed. There were lots of sights to see, and Y/n loved to see them. And it was heavily populated, which would make it safer. Safe was something greatly needed.

For some reason, ever since that one night in the forest, Doux had felt like watching his back. It was tiresome, always being on edge. Of course, he had been this whole trip. But recently it had been amplified. Douxie didn’t know if he was sensing the Order’s presence or if being wed had turned up his protective instincts up to an eleven, but it really would be fantastic to be in a safer environment. He was crossing his fingers New York was one.

Just outside of city limits, the boat was shrunken into a little toy and placed back inside of it’s bottle. The little bottle fit neatly in the backpack that Y/n was wearing. Everything fit neatly into the backpack that Y/n was wearing. It was charmed. Doux would rather it be in hers than his, just as a peace of mind. A quick getaway for her lest they ever be separated. He wasn’t too worried about himself. Nari clung to her side, so it would also be best to keep it with her in order to protect Nari. Yeah, that was totally the reason.

They hailed a cabbie and took it into the bustling city. Douxie had pulled a couple strings with his old buddies, and managed to get them an apartment to stay in. The owner wouldn’t be back for a few weeks, and was happy to have someone to house sit for her. Douxie was happy to have a roof over his family’s head he didn’t have to pay for. It was a win-win.

Y/n never stopped looking out the window the entire cab ride. Douxie thought her excitement was adorable. She had her arm stretched over Nari in the middle to be able to hold his hand. The veggie lady didn’t mind. She was also focused on the view out the windows, fascinated by the sheer number of cars and the heights of the tall buildings. Douxie could feel Y/n’s wedding ring as she squeezed his hand. It helped calm him.

This apartment was owned by a starlet. It was huge, for New York standards. It was really high up, which made Douxie a wee bit nervous. Eleventh floor. It was eccentrically decorated, with bright colors. There was a wall in the living space that was a floor-to-ceiling window, covered by pale pink curtains and strings of heart-shaped beads. The other walls had a wallpaper that was white with red rose motifs. The couch was bright cherry red, furry, and oddly shaped. The kitchen cabinets were painted hot pink, with frosted glass doors that bore a rose pattern. The refrigerator was also cherry red, with white and pink heart-shaped stickers stuck onto it. Everything was fucking red, white, or pink. It looked like Saint Valentine himself threw up. Douxie was afraid to see what the bedroom looked like.

Douxie checked the fridge. Yeah, it was empty, apart from the box of takeaway from who knows when and the three bottles of wine. To be expected, of a single young up-and-comer, one supposes. They would have to go get groceries. Archie was making biscuits on the fluffy surface of the couch. It was probably very soft, Douxie had yet to touch it himself. He was kind of afraid of it, to be honest. Nari seemed to also like it, and was spread out on the top, limbs hanging over the back of the couch. Y/n opened the curtains a bit and was staring out the window. Doux headed for the bedroom, to go see what they were working with.

The bedroom was not in any way tamer than the open living space, but at least it wasn’t as bad as Douxie was expecting with the ah, love theme this place had going. It could have been worse. It was fluffy, pink, and glittery, but at least it was rated PG. Apart from the heart-shaped bed, it looked like it could have been a dressing room. There was a vanity with lights ringing the mirror and one of those dressing screens in the corner with several feather boas hanging over it like some kind of cliché movie set. Douxie was setting his backpack down, as he sat on the side of the bed turned away from the door, when he heard someone go into the en suite. And then he heard various noises of,, happy surprise? Sounded like Y/n.

“DEWDROP! THERES A HEART-SHAPED TUB. A FUCKING HEART-SHAPED TUB. COME LOOK.”

Bleeding balroths. Douxie rolled his eyes as he stood up from the comfy feather mattress to go see what she was shouting at him about. The tiles that covered the bathroom were annoyingly pink. The air smelled like something he could only describe as pink. Sure enough, there was a heart-shaped tub like someone’s cheesy honeymoon suite, and his wife was already in it, despite it not having any water. She wore an all too familiar cheshire cat grin on her face. He had one word for this.

“No.”

“Whatever.” Y/n stuck her tongue out childishly. “You’ll change your mind tonight. You will join me in the incredibly fragrant heart-shaped bubble bath, Dewdrop. Mark my words.”

~ ~ ~ As a first stop on the itinerary, they decided on Central park. Some greenery for Nari. And for Y/n too. Trees were good for the soul and one should never spend too much time on concrete. Gave Archie something to scratch that was not the couch that they did not own. It was fine when he did it in Arcadia, their sofa was old and tattered anyways, but not here in the apartment they were housesitting.

Y/n claimed the walk through nature was necessary to restore the energy lost on the trip into the city. The walkways were paved, and Douxie had to really keep an eye on both Nari and Y/n, who should know better, from wandering off the path. Maybe he should get two baby leashes when they were to shop later. Occasionally they would pass by a café. Douxie was glad he was not working in one of those. This trip was a much-needed vacation, as stressful as it was.

A little ways in and they came across a pond, with a cute little bridge that the walkway went under. Douxie rubbed his hand over the stones as they walked through. It was worn, as many hands had also done so over the decades. This bridge, as old as the park itself, was still younger than him. And it had met so many more people than he could even fathom. Doux himself had met so many people over the years. He had been touched by many too, like this little bridge. And just like the people who touched this bridge, none of them quite knew the impact they would be leaving. What they were wearing down. He heard a happy squeal as Y/n and Nari made a sudden sprint ahead of him. Apparently, there were ducks in this pond.

The Met was just a few minutes’ walk from where they exited the park. Douxie was happy with the idea of a quiet art museum trip, that sounded peaceful and relaxing. He needed all the peaceful and relaxing he could get right now. Y/n was actually really excited about this one despite it being not that exciting of an activity. She was trying to psych up Nari. “It’ll be fun, we can pretend we’re a gang of art thieves and we’re doing recon for a heist.” The veggie lady had no idea what any of those words meant.

There were lots of paintings in the Met gallery. It contained multitudes. One painting, they passed as they walked down the corridors, Y/n stopped, transfixed, stared at the painting for a few minutes, and then carried on like nothing happened. She didn’t look particularly sad, or happy, just confused, like she was processing something. Douxie made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Next stop was a walk down Fifth Avenue. It’s not like they could afford to shop, but it was a must-do in NYC so they must-did. They walked holding hands with Nari in the middle like their child. She liked looking in all the window displays. Every so often she would stop to stare and they would tug her along. The trees lining the sidewalks presented their autumn colors. The oranges and golds gave the streets a cheery vibe.

They passed a few food trucks. The trucks were filling the air with various delicious aromas. Douxie’s stomach growled loudly. Y/n giggled and suggested they pick a truck for lunch. Douxie had his eye on a fish and chips truck. It didn’t make ‘em quite like you could get in London but it was trying. A for effort. Y/n thought it was fantastic. Douxie was just spoiled.

They made their way over to the Rockefeller Center, just around the corner. A short walk and Y/n had spotted a coffee shop. So now they were going to a coffee shop. Douxie couldn’t help it, she looked at him with such big eyes. What was he supposed to do, say no?

The coffee shop was warm, and much appreciated relief from the autumn chill that had taken over. And a nice warm drink was sorely needed. Y/n found a nice couch in the back of the shop. Douxie sunk in, deeper than he expected to be able to sink in, but it was an old couch sunk into by many people. It was cozy. The love of thousands made it the sofa the way that it was. Love had made it squishy, love had made it comfy. Speaking of love and squishy and comfy, Doux pulled his dear wife Y/n to his side in an embrace. Low-key cuddling on the coffee shop couch was the best part of Douxie’s day. Nice, relaxing, he needed this. He pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n’s hair.

The Top of the Rock is an observatory deck in Rockefeller Center. Very high up in the air, one can see a great view of the city skyline and get a peek at that famous empire state building. Archie didn’t really care about it, he could get aerial sights any time he wanted, so he took this time to take a nap. Y/n leaned close to the glass, amazed and getting slightly wooed by the city. Douxie slung his arm around her, and, under the guise of affection, pulled her a few steps back. She really was hell-bent on stopping his fragile heart. And then Nari just straight up put her hands, paws, on the glass and put her body weight on the window. Nope. Douxie made sure to ask her to step away from the glass nicely, lest he frighten her, but still tried to convey that what she was doing was something he saw as dangerous and it worried him. Doux was very happy when they were back on the ground.

Douxie liked people watching. So did Y/n. It was one of the things the used to do on weekends in Arcadia, strangely enough. It wasn’t weird. All those people, they all had lives of their own. They all had stories they were living, and it was interesting to glimpse just a small insignificant piece of it. Or sometimes even significant. It was always hard to tell as an outsider, whether or not an ordinary moment was really the turning point of someone’s life. NYC’s famous Times Square was perfect for people watching.

There was something odd about it. The square itself felt wrong. A hundred neon advertisements all at one time. Not an inch of surface didn’t bare the name of a brand. There was something profoundly sad about it. One might even go as far as say disgusting. And there were many, many signs and people. Douxie tried not to attempt to take it all in at once, lest he risk sensory overload. The sun had already set, the brightly lit signs were brighter than ever. There were so many people around them. There were some buskers, some even playing at the same time, so the music clashed. Perhaps there was too much life here. It was loud, and Doux liked loud, but he liked harmonious loud, like music and excitement, not the chaotic loud that surrounded him. He made sure he could see Nari, that she was close to them. Douxie squeezed Y/n’s hand. He thought maybe he should just pay attention to her, tune out everything else. The lights made a brilliant halo around her gorgeous face as she turned to him. The beautiful goddess he called his wife’s eyes searched his, and she noticed he was not so comfy.

“C’mon, let’s go get some dinner.”

They walked away from the square for a few minutes, putting some distance between them and it’s light, before coming across a pizza place for dinner. It was good. The classic, New York slice. And it was pizza. Y/n would admit, it wasn’t special. She actually liked the pizza from the local pizza place in Arcadia Oaks way better. Douxie and Archie agreed with her. But don’t tell any New Yorker’s that. The main thing is that they got a nice dinner, and it helped Douxie calm down. There were only a few other people in the restaurant. The booth they were in was off to the side, away from everything. Y/n stroked Douxie’s palm with her thumb. Archie sat in his lap and purred. He appreciated them.

They’d had a long day. It was best to get home. Once opening up the cherry red door the valentine’s day décor assaulted their eyes once again. This would be okay for the time being but Douxie had no idea how someone could dwell here full time. As he plopped down on the furry couch, he noticed for the first time the numerous little cherub figurines that littered every available surface. It might be interesting to meet this starlet one day. She seemed to have a cupid schtick going. She probably looked the part too.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Y/n had made a sneaky beeline for the bathroom and that honeymoon suite style tub. Douxie rolled his eyes fondly and scoffed from his place on the sofa when he heard the water turn on. Of course. He supposed he could use some extra relaxing. But she’d feel like she won. Y/n was gonna make a big deal out of this, he could feel it.

Miss starlet had an unhealthy amount of soap bottles filling the storage space in the bathroom. A dragon hoard of fancy scented soaps. As fun as pouring some various vividly colored, strong and flowery goops into the tub and pretending it was a potion would be, and it would be, Y/n opted to find some more calming aromas for poor Doux. Lavender, lemongrass, and jasmine, were what she was on the hunt for. She managed to find both lavender and jasmine soaps, and a lavender candle. No lemongrass. But Y/n wouldn’t have held her breath on that one. It wasn’t exactly glamorous or glittery.

With the water hot, bubbles high, candles lit, Y/n had crafted a very romantic and relaxing evening. She stood back to admire her work for a moment before going to go get Douxie. He was laying across the couch, using his crossed arms as a pillow, with Archie snoozing on his chest, when she found him.

“Sorry Arch. Find a different pillow for the night?” The dragon-cat understood. That didn’t stop him from throwing a look at the two as he settled back down into the couch’s fluff.

Ignoring Archie, Y/n took Douxie by the hand as she led him back into the room she had set up. The air smelled very strongly of lavender. The pink of the tiles was muted in the dim light, which Douxie was thankful for. Then he noticed the giant fucking mountain of bubbles Y/n had turned the bath into. He supposed she wanted him to get in that. Somehow. They’d have to be careful not to accidentally choke on any bubbles.

Douxie let out a little groan as he slid into the bath. The hot water felt great on his tense muscles, he had to admit. He was feeling better, and more relaxed. He certainly wasn’t anywhere near as stressed as he was in time square anymore, but the tension of this strange combination vacation/flee-for-their-lives-trip was taking its toll on the master wizard. He wouldn’t put it past his hair to start greying soon. A wizard was only ever as old as they felt, after all. And boy, did Douxie’s bones feel old. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. No worries right now. He was safe, Nari was safe, Archie was safe, Y/n was safe. Y/n was right beside him, so extra safe too.

“So, how’s it going.” Y/n laughed at Douxie getting a little lost in the hot water sauce.

“Nuclear.” Douxie opened his eyes to take in his wife’s pretty face he just knew was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. Doux pulled Y/n into his embrace and against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks. I- I guess I sort of maybe needed this.”

Y/n snickered. “Of course you did. Remember, I’ll always be here to take care of you.” She brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “Always, Mr. Casperan.”

“And that goes the same for you, I’ll always take care of you, Mrs. Casperan.”

[ask-mortarion-the-death-lord]

cause ive always liked fire emblem, and cause the questions rested on my head before, the primarchs in fire emblem classes:

lion = paladin. its the most traditionally knightly class, and well the lions never really been depicted on horses or in relation to fast vehicles all that often, the paladin class is more so marked by balanced stats and a sharp increase to res so i feel confidant in giving him a mounted class like the paladin.

fulgrim = swordmaster. lightly armored very fast class, well its limited to just swords for the most part i feel that also suits fulgrims perfectionist nature since as a class its largely about perfecting that one weapon often getting special perks for doing so. plus in terms of outfits swordmasters are one of the more fashionable or exotic classes which also suits fulgrims tendency to extravagant dress.

perturabo = great knight. at first i thought general since its a very representative defensive class, heavy armour, used by enemy armies alot, best used in defensive roles, all that stuff. but on reflection great knight kinda works a bit better, since the iron warriors also notably use a lot of vehicles. this gives perturabo both high defensive properties but decent mobility like his copious tanks without being as high as say a paladin or bow knights mov to represent perts preference for terminator armour.

jaghatai = nomad trooper/bow knight. i specify nomad trooper because it better gells with the whole Mongol thing the khans got going on, but bow knight is also the more common variation of this class. regardless, its a more speed aligned mounted class capable of using swords and bows, that has the khans name all over it.

lemen = warrior. the russ is typically portrayed with axes, has a viking theme, and well hes 'uga uga barbarian' he also strives to try and be better then that. its another easy fit really, even if bows arent particularly fitting for russ but then that also does help to emphasize the sortta duality of the russ as a savage reveling in it whos also embarrassed by it to some extent.

rogal = hero. its not a defensive class like the general but it is the more defensive counterpart to the swordmaster usually, and rogals usually not shown to be wearing terminator armour. aside from that its something of a flexible class used by shady mercs and noble knights in equal measure, so it can work with both an air of practicality and luxury well.

konrad = trickster. assassin seems like the better choice since it jives more with konrad visually speaking, konrad also has psychic powers that let him see the future. thus trickster works a bit better i feel to represent that, placing him in a thief promotion well also giving him access to magic. i thought of dread fighter as well, but konrads not known for sending out warp bolts so the tricksters support magic works better for konrads future sight.

sanguinius = falcon knight. a female dominated class, ignoring that stipulation fire emblem pegasi have the unicorn thing where their atleast rumored to only accept the pure hearted as riders, and well i wouldn't call any primarch pure hearted neither are many of the pegasus knights in fire emblem so it works thematically without being a hard requirement. also, wings and a flying class thats focused on speed and has also at times had access to support magic. another obvious fit for all intents and purposes.

ferrus = blacksmith. thank god for fates giving me this out, well ferrus does wear terminator armour he also notably relies on his arms metal coating to protect that so i feel more confidant in giving him blacksmith which is a defensive class but not a heavy armour class if that makes sense. also, overlap of professions which putting aside the terminator armour stuff does make this the otherwise obvious choice for ferrus.

angron = berserker. the class is pretty much all attack and speed no defense, relying on high health to tank hits. well its usually locked to axes, angron usually uses axes to thats fine, and well its also a class mostly associated with bandits and barbarian and tribal looks its also a class that gets a lot of association with gladiators and arenas so it works in that sense as well.

roboute = hero, great lord. not totally happy with this one so im giving myself multiple outs on it. hero i feel works in a visual sense but its doubling up on rogals, well great lord works better in terms of who roboute is but its pushing roboute into the definitive protagonist class of fire emblem. settled on great lord eventually both because its the protagonist class, and because well its a class capable of defending itself their both usually not the best fighter and also need to be handled carefully or else cause a game over due to dying,

mortarion = oni savage. a defensive class specialized in using axes but which does have access to magic use. it fits in that mortarion prides himself on endurance and physical strength well shunning magic, despite having had training and education in magic himself and arguably because of who taught him. plus visually the class is designed to look intimidating and wears a mask, both vague enough applications to mortarion.

magnus = sorcerer. also called druid, dark sage, or dark bishop. i thought of maybe basara since its a class with access to physical weapons, but i decided sorcerer for two main reasons. first, magnus relies heavily on his magic over his physical fighting skills by primarch standards. second, darks magic which sorcerers specialize in have the narratively appropriate connotations in fire emblem for magnuses character. as dark magic in fe is both a dangerous dark force used by evil wizards to summon dark gods or cast curses, and a neutral force of nature that can be researched and understood like a science, used like a science to consume enemies in black holes even. it is the perfect magic to give the "its not a phase dad, its a science! -consumed by dark forces-" character in essence.

horus = general. perfect class for horus less because of its defensive properties or role as a defensive class, but more so because of what it arguably symbolizes and how horus is the primarch next to perturabo who wears the most terminator of terminator armour. namely that general is the class most frequently used by enemy bosses and commanders in fire emblem, often by one of the head honchos or a minion of said honcho. in that sense, its the perfect class to have the warmaster and arch traitor of the imperium in.

lorgar = war monk. religiously affiliated class that wields an axe, and already a perfect fit for that alone. the war monk class also has access to support magic with jives with lorgar unlocking psychic power through his studies of daemonology and the chaos gods, and also his own psychic visions. my only concern is that to access war monk regularly you have to be in the priest class beforehand [unless your a prepromote] which jives with lorgars history but is also a class locked to support magic, but for a primarch im willing to let it slide.

vulkan = wyvern lord. vulkans another character in terminator armour, but i feel wyvern lord works better. not because vulkans known for flying mind you, but more so because wyvern lords a defensive flying class, involves a a dragon, and because wyverns in fe are difficult to tame mounts but ones that are fiercely loyal and protective of their riders if said rider treats them well. which fits into vulkans friendly, by primarch standards, attitude.

corvus = assassin. well corvus also uses psychic powers to turn invisible, i felt giving trickster to konrad worked better because konrad was more active and constant in his use of psychic powers well corvus tried to avoid using his power as much as possible from what i remember. as such that left corvus with the more physically aligned thief promotion which i enjoy as a sort of 'delightful irony' since the assassin aesthetic better suits konrad.

alpharius/omegon = halberdier. feeling blessed that alpharius omegon have largely been presented as using lances cause it makes this a lot easier. well the ao twins are masters of a sneaky legion themselves, importantly the alpha legion favours infiltration and disguise over sneaking about. and what better disguise then as the promotion of the most generic of classes the soldier class. its a lance locked class, but i feel thats a good enough trade off for the inconspicuous murder angle. and the soldier class is if nothing inconspicuous/cannon fodder.

and bonus malcador and emperor!

malcador = sage. even putting aside that malcadors claim to fame is being a psyker, sage works in relation to the fire emblem trope of wise and crinkly old sages [the gotoh archtype as its referred to] which malcador fits on like a glove.

emperor = emperor, baron, master knight. the emperor class is indeed a thing, and im specifically thinking of the fe4 emperor class which could utilize every weapon and magic outside of light magic and dark magic. aside from that the emperor class was also a heavy armour class which... i dont remember if the emperors wearing terminator armour but it does gel with the emperor being fukin big. the barons an alternative thats basically the same as the emperor class if a bit weaker, and master knights the mounted variation that has access to light magic.

[ccsthemovie2]

trick or treat 2021 letter

DEAR MY KIND AND HARDWORKING GIFTER,

hi there my ao3 is zagspect and thanks in advance for making me a piece of fic or art in this fun little exchange! heres some food for thought to munch on.

i loooove slice of life, character moments, outsider povs that make things we’re used to in canon seem absurd or funny or weird or scary, humor, horror-in-fluff’s-clothing, sweetness-found-in-horror, and also just plain sweetness. feel free to get weird or experimental with your writing if you think the moment calls for it :3 im not really requesting anything sexy-nsfw in this exchange so pls keep things down to a nice pg13 (high-rated gore for higurashi work is an exception, lol, like, it’s when they cry. that’s just part of the deal.)

🌸✨

cardcaptor sakura (trick or treat!)

clear card manga spoilers are fine with me! manga and anime canon are both fine, and mashing them up is cool too. no aus past that though, please!

clow reed

the big man himself! scare me with his his manipulative tendencies, his eternal pushpull fear of both being eternally relied on and being no longer needed, the way he treats other people, especially people who love him. (yue! the madoushi! i am into both of these being unrequited romantically on his end, but he’s not gonna just gonna tell them that, you think he’s straightforward like that?) what’s daily life like in the clowse? creating a new card, what’s that like? does everybody get along with the normal, non magic neighbors? 

yelan li

what’s up with her??? what’s her relationship with her children like, what are the responsibilities of a magician family’s head, how weird is it that clow is kind of back all of a sudden, what’s her thoughts on sakura? fleshing out a minor character is always fun :]

eriol & li

okay, so, we get to the end of the original series. syaoran returns to hong kong. ????????. syaoran is in cahoots with eriol to (vaguely alluding to cc spoilers in case you haven’t caught up in the manga), do some pretty serious magic behind sakura’s back.

so, like... what went down in the ?????

kero & sakura & yue 

they’re FAMBILYYYYY. magic found family i love them so much. show me the depths of their care for her, and hers for them, the way there’s absolutely some ice to break with yue but when he gets loyal he will DIE for you, the way sakura can mend the rift between kero and yue, the way the two of them are balancing this wonderful openness and equality with oh yeah, she’s eleven, we kind of said some seriously dark stuff in the haze of sleepover talk didn’t we? 

ruby & spinel & eriol 

pre-canon or mid-canon or post-canon! what’s the dynamic between them, a quiet night in, a day out telling people that you’re connected by whatever lie you find funniest. going to tomoeda and having to pretend youre a kid, a teen, and a cat, but goddd you could all go for an elegant and adult glass of wine right now (especially the cat). what horrors are lurking in that house from the clow era that no one cares to address? like emotionally and also because it’s a magic wizard house with magic stuff in it. 

touya/yukito/yue 

i am here for any and all angles of this ship- all together, your touyukis, your yuetouyas, your yuekitos if you wanna get in on a rarely seen angle! (but pls have touya and/or yukito be 18+ at a time where yue shows interest in them). i wanna see the way they interact! how they deal with, you know, the everything! pre-relationship pining, going on a date, touya and yukito in college wondering if they’ll end up having different majors, different paths for the first time. yukito seeing yue on video for the first time (OH NO HES HOT), yukito and yue figuring out internal boundaries, etc etc etc.  

naoko and touya 

the girl who loves ghosts and the guy who sees (or, used to see), ghosts! does she follow him to one of his haunts (pun intended)? does he have to go to her for ghost sensing advice now that he’s a regular old human? does he have to save her from a ghost that means her harm? how excited is she to tell sakura about the COOL GHOST I MET WITH YOUR BROTHER OMG U DIDNT TELL ME HE LIKES GHOSTS??? and how much does sakura wanna sink into the ground lololol

🌹⚔️

revolutionary girl utena (trick or treat!)

ohh, what a place of scary happenings! tell me a fairytale, even if it’s not such a good idea. pre, mid, postcanon, im fine with it all. feel free to weave a web with easter egg references to any other media you feel is right for the moment- utena is all about Genre and Stories!

shadow girls 

i love them i love their whole everything. i wanna see a play, i wanna see them interact with other characters! what if they do a play AS the other characters, ooooh.

anthy/utena 

THE GIRLS WHO INVENTED LOVE THEMSELVES. ive read a thousand stories of them finding each other and it never gets old. id love to read about their life post-ohtori, especially the not-so-happily-ever-after parts- the old wounds reopening, the fights, and how they work through it, wont lose each other ever again. 

saionji/touga

what’s spookier than toxic masculinity? both of them miserably stuck, saionji obsessed with touga, touga believing anyone who believes in friendship is a fool. bro we are taking shirtless pictures among 500 potted cacti....why does my heart hurt..... oh shit its the cactus i rolled onto it ow ow

nanami

nanami being nanami! she’s got no clue how to act ever, she’s desperate, she’s trying SO HARD. i’d love to see a nanami finally getting out of there, too. leaving home with nothing but the clothes on her back, diamonds in her necklace, and a wheeled suitcase of raw eggs.... (crunch crunch crunch)

🎲🗓

higurashi when they cry (trick or treat!)

i’m a gou/sotsu enjoyer and gonna prompt about that a lot but original flavor is, of course, great too. pls dont go too heavy on info outside the main 8+saikoroshi+gou/sotsu? i haven’t read those. ive read umineko+ciconia though so references there are fine :3

rena/mion/keiichi

college days! getting together, crushing on each other, poly relationship figuringouts? dates that are just club meetings with kissing and all the ridiculousness of that.

satoko/rika

gou/sotsu era TOXIC LESBIAN EPIC MOMENTS!!!!!! obsession and desperation and satoko putting all her emotional eggs in rika’s basket no matter how angry she is with her, rika’s love for satoko across 100 years and how that all crumbles (to satoko) in the face of rika’s Cool School. rika wanting satoko to go to school with her so so so bad. deep pain and misunderstandings and acting badly (like, murder badly), and then, we hope, atonement and something new beginning? i love character moments where someones so obsessively in love it feels like its eating them up inside.

rena & satoko

look, rena’s smart and really pays attention to how people feel and i think, before or after satoko becomes a looper but especially after, she would make an attempt to have a heart to heart with satoko. and satoko, as a looper, will politely brush her off, will go you dont know me you can’t affect me. youre just a chess piece. when i get to the miracle world where rika loves me, ill listen to you. this you is here to die, or to kill. 

eua

oh eua is just using satoko up like a bar of soap and it takes satoko way, way too long to realize. evil girltalk/crush advice from the witchmom perhaps?

shion

meakashi made me LOVE her. internal shion moments, perhaps? shion being an empath (decides what ppl are thinking and instantly believes it)? shion in gou-era wanting to talk to satoko about st. lucia’s, but she never shows up to dinner?

okay i think that’s all for now!!! thanks and i hope you have fun!!!

[lovely-but-tired]

Pansy cursed as the harsh wind bit as her skin despite the fur coat that sat on her shoulders pulling it tighter she ducked into Twilfitt and Tattings. Puffing out a sigh as embraced the warmer air and let her coat hang around her shoulders.

She smirked at the maze of fabulous dressing gowns all made by the best designers and sold to the wealthiest witches and wizards. She loved the place and its attentive staff that always strived to make each guest feel welcomed and comfortable and ready to give every gallion they owned or more. But the staff wasn't being as attentive as usual. Madame Trance hasn't even come to greet her. In fact she didn't seem to be in the front at all. Waltzing further in with a strut that told any other customers she wasn't to be messed with she set off to find the rode maker.

She was really just looking for herself and find a dress on her own but she preferred being tailed. To be pampered and complemented with each dress she tried on. To be served fine wine and coddled with cucumber sandwiches. She pouted to herself as she wandered the store for five minutes with not even a word of recognition. Moving along she thought about causing a scene reminding the old bat that she was one of the few pureblood families able to buy from the overpriced shop. Had she forgotten most of her precious pure blood customers were serving time damn it.

Whilst in her inner temper tantrum a voice cut through her thoughts like a knife completely drawing her attention and her furry.

"The Nargles infestation is absolutely terrible in here. With all this mistletoe I'm surprised she has a robe left to sell." The voice was so blunt and dreamy almost as if she had been picked up and thrown unceremoniously into the past.

She could picture it plain as day, see it in her mind so clearly it was rage inducing. She could see the dotty girl round the corner with her oversized sweater and robes her necklace with the ugly butter beer corks. Her wand would be resting behind her ear as she stared up at the missile toe with wide eyes. Could the girl even afford to step through these doors? The thought gave her such satisfaction till she remembered rather bitterly that yes she could.

"I wish mum would let us put it up round the burrow. We could get so many people this Christmas. Perhaps even rig it up pop fireworks when two people step under it" The second voice was male but still dreamy and assured. It was laced with mischief.

"Aboslutly brillant idea Ries. Think Uncle Gorgie might even put that into his holiday collection. Perhaps even help us set them up?" The voice seemed the same but so laced with that of a naughty scheming child that it was almost appalling. She didn't even think she could sound so innocent while being so vile.

She wanted to turn the corner. She wanted to turn and see them and sneer and immediate them but now she wasn't so sure she could. They seemed in a class of their own. Then a much older yet still familiar voice spoke.

"Scheming again are we?" He asked and the two seemed to meet his challenge.

"Oh yes very much" the boy answered bluntly. "Having fun is the point of the holidays, after all" he sounded so dreamy and so blunt so much like their mother. The thought made her sneer.

"Is it having fun or forcing me another step towards my grave?" He asked his tone more playful then she had ever heard it.

"Just a step?" The girl interjected. "I thought we'd at least have your foot in the grave by now."

The man gave a sarcastic laugh then told them just as bluntly to go help their sister.

"Draco" she mocked stepping from around the corner only to be thoroughly disappointed she had thought that the combination of her presence and saying his name would upset him but he stayed relaxed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Then again he had changed over the past few years for the worst that is.

"Didn't think I'd see you here. Isn't this place a little high class for people like yourself?" His features didn't change; he simply acknowledged her existence by turning his gaze towards her.

"Is there a point you want to make Parkinson?" He asked in a bored tone but was different than the one she knew. It was just bored not arrogant and pompous it was if he was bored with her existence. It infuriated her.

"I'm just saying that perhaps Madame Trance doesn't know just how much mud your lot is tracking in." She had wanted a reaction; she wanted to see anger flare in his eyes and him to snap just as easily as he used to.

"It's just business. Buying and selling and all that. As long as I can pay the price I don't think she minds" He answered as if he were brushing her off.

"You're paying the price alright. My mum says that your family's status is in the mud. Ive heard you shacked up with a blood traitor then you pulled a Weasley." Crossing her arms she searched his face looking for something, a clench of the jaw, the balling of his fist but still she was given nothing.

"Oh how the Malfoy name has fallen! Even your parents couldn't even keep their heads straight. Letting that Blood traitor into their home was shameful and the little half breed. Did they lose their brains in the war along with their nerve letting the child of a werewolf into their home. There about as daft as your wife" She finally got something a twitch in his eyebrow must have hit a nerve. Oh how she loved hitting nerves it like gold really.

"Where is she anyway? Hunting those invisible creatures? Heard those two talking about them twins aren't they perhaps they were born with halves of the same brain believing in that rubbish." His grey eyes turned quickly to hard iron and she knew she was getting somewhere then suddenly they softened back to stormy grey. Then she was confused, completely and utterly confused.

"Daddy do you think Grandma will like the blue or the green. I think blue." A girl came into sight, Madame Trance trailing behind eagerly her elegent dresses drapped over her arms.

"Though I suppose the Lavender would match her skin tone but the grey has the most subtle hints of violet. I suppose we'll have to get them all" Upon hearing this the woman stared down at the little customers with glee nodding her head vigorously. "Then the turquoise one for Mrs. Weasley?" The shopkeeper suddenly stopped nodding a small frown crossing her features.

Pansy couldn't help but smirk ready to watch the show.

"Is there a problem with whom we will be buying for?" The girl asked noticing the sudden hesitation, rounding on the women her straight silvery blond hair swishing as she turned. "Surely we won't have to take our business elsewhere as I had a few dresses I was looking at myself. But if you have a problem with where your products will be going after bought I won't hesitate to drop all Malfoy business with this shop" her words were cold, calm and calculated. Each word held venom and air of high importance.

It was as if she was looking at a young Narcisa in her prime. She watched as the shopkeeper gapped like a fish for a moment fumbling over words shaking her head vigorously.

"No no of course not! Course not!" Her voice rang shrilly, her eyes going wide.

"Right what I thought" she responded brushing the women off then turning to her father.

"I suppose you should throw in the powder blue one then" He added and she nodded as if thinking the same thing.

"Come along we need to go find Mrs. Weasleys new robes" The women followed like a puppy wanting a treat.

She was gobsmacked completely gobsmacked the young girl played the woman like any pure blood brat and she did it with complete confidence. Didn't she know her family wasn't seen as anything more then cowards. That their name was ruined well before her time. Yet she played Madame Trance like it was a mere pawn on a chess board.

"Dad why do I have to be here?" A boy asked, coming into sight. His hair as silvery blond as his sisters falling around his grey eyes. He looked bored and aggravated.

"You're the one who said you wanted to come Christmas shopping" his father told his simply.

"I was planning on meeting James at Quality Quidditch. Or before him so I could get the lighting bolt before him" the boy stressed gaining no sympathy from his father. "Well now you two can get it together."

"Why does Scorp not have to hear here but I do?"

"Scorpius went with Luna to the tea shop and from what I remembered you picked 'the lesser of two evils' the boy groaned but walked off mumbling under his breath.

"Are you dad's friend?" She nearly jumped out of her skin she hadn't even heard them approached yet now she had two children on both sides of her.

They looked up with big eyes of powdery blue eyes that held mischief beyond her imagination. Their dirty blond hair curled round their eyes as it hung in waves down the girls back.

"No, I don't think she is," the boy answered.

"Why do you think that?"

"We've never seen her before. Think we'd remember her face. Don't you?"

"Yeah we would."

They exchanged glances then suddenly shrugged uninterestedly with her leaving her like she was rubbish on the ground.

She felt flustered, embarrassed , angry , oh so angry. She nearly started venting when the mother of them all came floating in. Her long red and green robe flowing round her shoulders and an assortment of holly in her hair. It made her almost sick to look at. Beside her was a little boy who stayed close clinging to her hand.

He was exactly what Draco once looked like. Straight pointed features pushed back platinum blond hair and grey eyes. There was no difference really other then that wide curious expression.

"Hello Pansy it's been quite a while" the woman greeted in the same fashion of calm as she did in her younger years.

"Your children are brats did you know that" the words shot from her lips like bullets.

She didn't feel like she was lying though. So far one had bullied a shopkeeper into submission the other had complained about being there and the two creepy ones had already started talking about pranks and were very rude to her.

"Have they been acting out?" She asked her husband.

"No there, about as normal as always" he offered and she nodded.

"Do you have children?" She asked, tilting her head. "Surely you understand that very hard to handle."

Pansy gritted her teeth. "No I don't have children. Though if I did they would more well mannered"

"Perhaps but I like my children the way they are."

"Ginny will be round soon. Had Gemini finished her Christmas shopping?" And now she was being ignored; it was as if she wasn't standing in between the two!

"More Weasleys, how far has your family sunk Malfoy?" She shot at the man behind her not bothering to turn.

"I like to think my family has grown. Whatever we've lost wasn't that important to begin with" Luna smiled as the boy next to her beamed at his father's words. They looked as if he had said something extremely pleasant. She herself had heard rubbish and pure nonsense.

"Whatever you lost wasn't that important!?" She nearly bellowed whipping around to look at him.

"You and your parents have made themselves blood traitors. Publicly!" She felt anger pouring out of her words. "Your mum and dad were once highly respected and now they're going out for tea with that Mudblood lover as if it were nothing. There was a chance Draco! A chance for your parents to have even the slightest bit of redemption and look at what they have done. You could have been there saving grace married respectively and reminded them what pureblood supremacy is. You could at least have some sort of shame in what you and your family have lowered themselves to be!" She was breathing heavily taking in a large breath.

"The woman that you're speaking of is my aunt." She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms.

"You mean the werewolf supporter. My mums told me all about that half breed. Honestly those things are dangerous and you've had one in your house!" There was a flash in his eye but he kept a straight face. He seemed to get ready to speak when his voice cut him off.

"Did you just call my cousin a thing?" The voice seethed as she saw the boy who had complained before his eyes filled with malice.

"He is a thing" she knew instantly that she had said the wrong thing. The boy's laid back posture straightened his jaw set.

"A woman with the features of a pug animagious gone horribly wrong has any right to judge others?" He asked though it was obviously rhetorical.

"You are talking to a superior little boy. I suggest" he cut her off with a laugh, his eyes narrowing.

"We're both pure blood. The only difference is that you lack a moral compass and I lack your narrow minded views." His arms crossed, staring at her like she was filthy, his gaze was searing.

"Is there a problem?" The girl asked Madame Trance trailing behind her currently holding multiple robes she looked absolutely terrified looking between the two.

"No no my dear no problem" Trance started in attempting to cover the situation. "You've gathered everything you wanted so we should have Lord Malfoy check out yes yes that's what we should do." The girl's eyes shot over to look at the seamstress, her gaze piercing.

"Puggy over there called Teddy a thing." The boy seethed crossing his arms.

"If this" she paused scanning the dark haired women as if she wasnt sure how to address her. "Women has something she would like to say. I suggest she say it then promptly leave" she was taken aback by her declaration she had never been treated with such disrespect by a child.

"Leave?" Both the seamstress and heiress found themselves saying.

"Yes leave I don't want her in here while I'm doing business" she crossed her arms then looked up at the women who looked uncertain at the request. "Mrs.Parkinson's is a very loyal customer at my shop" Trance's voice quivered as she tried to reason with the younger girl.

"Well then if she is so loyal she'll be able to come back when we leave which will be very soon if she's not gone sooner rather than later" Trance looked past her to her father then to her mother both seemed to be telling her they had no control of this situation.

"Ms. Parkinson, you have made my customer's very uncomfortable. Would you leave them be and stop disturbing them." The girl looked unsatisfied by the sudden alternative but before she could voice it her mother moved to place her hand on her shoulder.

"Them? Their mere presence has disturbed me. This is supposed to be a filth free establishment. Yet all I see is tainted blood!"

"Just leave them be Ms. Parkinson or I will have to ask you to leave" she told her in a broken tone.

She felt defeated looking around at the family with a sneer curling on her lip. But holding her head high she strutted away giving a look of burning hatred at the man she once knew. There was a snicker from behind one of the shelfs the two wide eyed children walked past her, the boy telling his sister that he was completely right. She huffed and resisted the urge to strangle children.

[paulwalltran]

Dungeons and Dragons Loneliness

Another interview with lofi music. Today was a pretty shitty day, alot on my mind. Here to unload. 

Today’s mood: Fuck it all...

It’s a mad addiction, a horrendous one. It’s all I think about, it’s all I want to talk about. Or almost anything fantasy related. I’ve recently gotten a little closer with one of my co workers. Delerner Banks, everyone calls him Del. He’s always in the tunnel, and always brings warhammer books to read and do work (whatever it is he’s working on.) We talk about fantasy related things all the time, and sometimes we bounce ideas off each other, feeling out our thoughts of settings and lore. Talking to him about some fantasy before leaving work made me feel alot better. The loneliness inside has been eating at me.

I know it’s salt, I know its jealousy, that I’m mad at my friends. They been hanging out more without me, playing cards and shit. Its not a passion of mine, its fun sometimes, but its still not me. Its what they bond over, its what they do together, and that’s what theyre into. If I had to guess, they’re okay with Dungeons and Dragons, but even my best friend said that I take it too serious. Its fallen out of their favor, it eats up a lot of time, and they each have their version of what a fun campaign would be like. In me, I said to myself, “Fine, fuck it. I’ll have to assemble another crew to play with.” Tough situation then isn’t it? Wanting to play a social game that needs bodies, during an age where social gatherings are frowned upon, because they carry a potential to spread a virus... Still, this is what I want to do. I want a group of friends, who share the same passion I do. My current friends must think ill of me, they may just want to hang out. They think that if they come hang with me, I’ll want a game of DnD without a doubt. They just want to chill and kick it, they don’t want to roll dice. But ask me once and I’ll tell you yes twice, to playing DnD. 

I love it with all my heart, all of the contents and materials are here, ready to play. No extra investments, no money needed to be spent, we can get going off of nothing like we did back then. A table top roleplaying game, we started with cardboard and lego figures, and just two books to share. But there was fun to be had, and a few heated sessions. But fun it was, the more we played the deeper i grew fond of the game. I’m even willing to experiment with other systems if I have someone to guide me. With cards, you gotta constantly update your arsenal to keep up with the meta, and let’s be real, not playing anything remotely close to meta isn’t as fun. Different formats allow different decks, and to keep current you gotta keep up. I dont have the fundings for it, I dont have the luck. I would rather buy a module that’ll last for years, versus a pack of cards. I have two books that have skyrocketed in value, cards go up and down like stocks. But thats the appeal I suppose, I don’t care for it though.

Back to the thing at hand, I’m in their group chat as they make plans. I can’t be there for all that. But fuck it, that’s all Im going to say. Fuck it, on repeat, until its engraved into my head. Pride is getting the best of me, I refused to be denied again. If it’s not something they want to do, so be it, I need to look out for me in the end.  I must muster up the courage to start playing online again, the first one wasn’t bad, but it fell apart. I need to get the courage to be social, and get over the fear that everyone expects you to be a pro player. I’m scared going into this green still, roll20 isn’t my forte. But if I want to play DnD, this seems to be my only option. It may fulfill my wish, to find friends who are just as passionate as I. My other friends, they’re over on the other side. Its fine, it truly is, they have one another, and I need to be strong. I need to find the strength in this loneliness, even though its tearing me apart. My circle becomes smaller, thats just the way of the world. Adapt to survive, be formless like water...

Dungeons and Dragons, my greatest escape. I can be anybody, and do things I normally can’t. I can clobber up bad guys, indecent folk, and finesse my way out of punishment from the law. I can save a village, a town, a kingdom, when I can hardly save myself. I can fly, cast spells, break locks, imagination is my only limit. I can hoard and amass vast amounts of riches, I myself can even become a dragon. I don’t have to be me, although a bit of me resides in everyone I’ve made before. I can never truly separate myself, from those Ive breathed life into. For hours on end, I can go anywhere, do anything, I melt into the world thats placed before me.

 Because the reality is that I’m practically shit, and nobody. The world is fucked up and jacked up and spiraling down the drain. I’m mentally fucked and my physicality is pretty much the same. I’m stuck in place when the world is demanding me to change. I lost with no real direction. No map in hand, no guide, and I’m scared out of my mind. I don’t know whether to trust the process or commit suicide. Im not sure where I’ll end up, if it’s good or bad. Im struggling, I’m suffering, and there seems to be no end. I could say I’m trying, but I would be lying, if I had to look at the brighter side. The positive things in life are so hard to identify. But my emotions are raw and hit hard, slamming against the walls in my skull. Demanding me to give them attention...and attention I give them, as they tear me up. Like being pulled at by the limbs, drawn and quartered is the method it seems like today. I was thinking that I couldn’t drink forever, my body would eventually reject. But what if I drank energy drinks on end, a heart attack to get me out of this place. I can down those all day long, so whats stopping me from taking that way out of it? Less grotesque and violent, it’ll probably be painful as hell. An organ seizing up, as the body ceases the function. I get said thinking about it sometimes, but one day, enough will be enough. But damn that lady...damn her for speaking those words... Tomorrow. If nothing is better by tomorrow, then do as you may. But sleep it off, tomorrow is another day. 

It’s not verbatim, but its the gist. Just wait for tomorrow, and hopefully things will change. The choice is still mine to make, and something in me pushes me forward, keeps me going on. Sometimes I think about who I’m leaving behind, and maybe how much it’ll hurt. The evil darkness inside me says that they’ll get over it, they have to, and time doesn’t wait. I won’t be immortalized, I’ll simply end up a statistic. That maybe itll be a few years the sadness remains fresh, but wounds always heal. Discrediting my actual existence, and any form of relations. Like I wouldn’t have made any actual impressions, people don’t weep for me now. People kind of forget I exist already, what makes me think they won’t after I’m gone? 

I think about my folks, my grandma, my girlfriend, my second family, and other close dear friends. I think about how many last will letters I would have to put out there, before I call for the curtains. Sometimes, I say I will start writing them, but they give me pause. I end up not wanting to leave this world, after pouring out my heart. Because I don’t want to leave any questions behind for people who matter, I want them to know how I felt before I passed. I want to leave with them apart of me, so they would never forget. 

Still it doesn’t change, shit is rough as of lately, work has been eating me up. I feel like Im never hundred percent, and me back on gaming is making it worst. I’ve gotten back onto Elder Scrolls Skyrim, its been my virtual version of DnD. Waiting for the Outer World Expansion, so I can get addicted to that again. All I want to do is play Dungeons and Dragons, the question is how do I make that into a living? I think being a Matthew Mercer is one in a million, I don’t think I’m that great. I’m willing to learn, grow, evolve because it is my passion, but I’m always scared of making mistakes. To be one of the greater Dungeon Masters, to be THE Wizards of the Coast Dungeon Master, it may possibly be the dream. To eat, sleep, breathe, Dee en Dee. My obsession isn’t that crazy though, I’m still behind on the lore of creatures and settings, I haven’t studied at all. But with the right drive and motivation, I would, especially with something as real as a legit group.

Enthusiastic players, who show up every week, bi weekly, once every month even, to play this fantastic game. Group of chill folks who is willing to take the Dungeon Master Mantle with I get burned out and have the desire to be in the player seat. One of those is the driving force, they make me want to plan. They make me want to make the world, the style, everything in general better, with the constructive feedback. I mean it’s been so long as I was a player in a campaign until the end, I’m beginning to think paying for a Dungeon Master wouldn’t be so bad. Once a month? A couple of hours? I mean I’m thinking like seven USD per hour? Eight isn’t bad, but after that it becomes a questionable amount. It repeats in my head, “No DnD is better than Bad DnD”, this much is probably still true. I say still because I still might want at least one session with said game, so I can at least say it was the worst after having attempt it, rolling something. Ha ha, I kid myself, I’m lying because I know the rage would be all to real and caution is my game most of the time. But I mean, I just might have to start exploring the idea, I was definitely going to ask on FaceBook if any Roll20 games was recruiting a newbie. 

Alas, today won’t be the last time I speak on the matter, Dungeons and Dragons haunt me everyday. I stare at minis, I stare at the upcoming books and modules, and I watch youtube where they tell RPG Horror Stories, Its become a huge part of my life, such as dancing once was. It almost links right into my earliest talents...writing. I love to write, just like I’m doing now. Im fairly decent at the writing game if I must say. Hey, real life failed Bard here, I should make one who always ends up playing big bro, and end up being friendzoned by all his interests. Im short, so Halfling is very true. Am I charismatic? Who knows, I can’t say for sure. But yes, I feel like this is what I need, a solid weekly game, maybe once every two weeks, hell, once every month would still be great. Something to look forward to the very least, in this life of routine and mundane. Something to look forward to for me, something that’s my own. Something I don’t need my closer friends to be apart of, since they’re not interested anyhow. I’m really talking shit because I’m hella salty, but at least I’m being upfront. Get it all out now, before the typing is done. 

It’s been a productive session, I may have to attribute it to Lofi it seems. The Lofi Hip Hop Radio on YouTube, also found on Spotify. Some tracks still strike me deep in the chest, giving me horrible flash backs and feeling in my chest. Others keep me going, forward, almost propelling. I’m currently training myself to be accustomed to the sounds, because I at first was very scared. That it would just transport me to a dark place and keep me there. I’ve been trying to confront my feelings more with this music, I think I felt better after last session like this. The more I faced myself, the better I became. Yes, I most definitely referenced Persona 4, another amazing and loved title because of the message it portrays. I always wondered what my shadow self would look like, and what they would say. But eh another time, I’m about to start rambling again. I have to conclude here, before I get off topic.

Until next time Tumblr...

[the-erickson-labrynthian]

The Cobalt Prince: Act I, Scene IV

(The next part in my old screenplay, The Cobalt Prince, by Antoine Defairre. A story about love, obsession, power, and betrayal. Be sure to tell me what you think of it! I always enjoy hearing feedback on my writing! Here you go:)

                                                  Scene IV: 

[Daybreak. The stage lights up to Ravel and King Leon. They are escorted through the bustling market of people by four guards.]

Leon: What a day. Right, my son? I see that everyone in this town is quite exceptionally upbeat.

Ravel: I see that everyone is in fear of our arrival, Father. We are quite a name, after all.

Leon: A city with the castle next door cannot handle when their king steps outside for a uplifting chat? Bothersome people. They cause a rhapsody of ruckus out of nothing. Do they fear my iron fist? As they should. And I hope, one day, they come to fear you, Ravel.

Ravel: Father, the day they fear me is the day you go to the ground. I fear for such a day. I cannot run this kingdom as of yet.

Leon: You are only twelve, dear child, you can grow. You will grow. You will become a fierce king who rules with might! (Clenches fist) You will not let the people push over you like some noble of Rosa. No one wins if those in the city like them. Only if they fear, and respect, them.

Ravel: You will need to teach me how to hate, Father. I hold no grudge in my life. Not to people. Not to Rosa’s people. I am not very assured I can become as mighty as you.

[Leon holds out his hand to order the guards to stop moving. They move into a lie to his left and salute as he kneels down to his child.]

Leon: You dare think this? If so, than you will never be considered my son. I do not have a child who will take the family name and give it to the pixies. We will not be known as Matilia, the land of dancers and prancers. Hold onto yourself. Look into the eye of evil, and learn. I don’t have time to waste on making you a man. This is only ever your job. Either you succeed, and I never get to know, or you disappoint me, and as a spirit I will curse you and all of your kin to the pit of Tartarus.

Ravel: (Looking ashamed) Yes, Father.

Leon: Good. Now, let us be off. We have to make haste to the military hall. Our next attack will need to be quick, before Ragnarok gets the idea to counter!

Ravel: Yes, Father.

[Two men from the crowd of the town get into a fight nearby. People behind food carts watch as citizens run to clear space. Three guards and Leon go to the scene while Ravel watches.]

Man: I hold no issue with you, Trulip, but if you step forward at me again I’ll knock your block off!

Trulip: Do not quarrel against me, fool! I hold magic beyond everything you can comprehend!

Man: Why do you hesitate, then?

[The man shoves Trulip. Trulip lifts his hand as if to cast some sort of spell, but does nothing.]

Man: What’s the hold up, yo? I want to see it rain fire from the earth!

Tru: (Looking all around the stage, thinking of an excuse) Obviously… any normal fool wouldn’t be able to comprehend that… magic… can only be cast when the person is happy with life!

Man: You are sad? (He mocks) What is so wrong?

Tru: (Melodramatic) Life is a depressing thing. I am not content with my… existence. You mortals could never understand why infinite power makes me weep so!

Man: (Astonished) Well, I guess you deserve to- hey! Wait a minute! You were laughing just a minute ago!

Tru: (Continues hyperbolically) Simply fake laughter to allow the people the feel better. How would they feel knowing the person they adore is in tears every night? Oh the agony! The poor life I lead as an all powerful being! Everyone must have pity for the poor weeping me.

Leon: (Interrupting the two) All powerful, eh? You say you hold magic?

Tru: I do or do not. Oh isn’t this heat dreadful! Let me go cool off

Man: Yes! He’s a wizard! Magic is his game, but he cannot use any right now.

Leon: Why so? Is it too powerful?

Man: (Shakes head) No. Tru: (Raises head) YES!

Leon: What is the reason, wizard? Tell me and not have this trickery no longer.

Man: He is too sad. Wizards cannot cast magic while they are sad.

Leon: I have never heard this before, but be I not a wizard, how could I have known? Is this the truth wizard? Do you shed a tear?

[Trulip looks to the audience, then shrugs. He begins to whine and shed crocodile tears]

Tru: Oh yes, fair king! I weep! I cry! I have never found the things I have wanted in life, aside from being all powerful and devilishly handsome. I need things in my life… gold things! Then I could become a powerful wizard once again!

Leon: Yes! You could turn the tide in Ragnarok! And after they? All that surround Matilia will fall! Ramses will never see this coming! We must act quick though, for he may have a wizard of his own! Guards!

[They fumble around and salute behind him]

Guards: Yes! King Leon!

Leon: Take this man to the castle! Feed him! Give him a thousand coins a day! He may have a lady so he desire! Or, others? I would not judge a wizard for his taste! Hurry! I must speak with him at night. After I plan with the generals, we will talk together and find out how to get you out of this wild and emotional stage in your life. Allow us to escort you, fair wizard.

Tru: (Still weeping) Yes, King Leon. Yes! I will aid this kingdom and we will become the mightiest in the land, or so I hope. OH! How I hope so much! I may create a flood with my tears at this moment. Escort me now, gentle knights.

[Trulip looks to the audience and gives two thumbs-up. He exits with Leon and the three guards stage left as Matron enters the same way. After passing Trulip, he pauses, and another man goes over to him.]

Man 2: Yep, the ‘Wizard of Matilia’ scheme actually worked for good ol’ Trulip. I think he may actually get his treasure.

Matron: He fooled the king? I looked to the king and thought I saw a terrifying man, not a royal flying by the seam of his pants. He is truly desperate.

Man 2: Our raid upon Ragnarok was a true failure. We may end up losing some of our own territory if we lose like that again.

Matron: And this, ‘wizard’ will fix it? Yeah, and I can call Hercules and have him come help us too! Perhaps I could ride in with an army of giant bears!

Man 2: As long as I can sell my milk to the people of Ragnarok, I couldn’t care less who’s king.

Matron: I understand. All I know, is that I will never get what I want, Matilia or Ragnarok. And I will still go hungry no matter who names the land I starve on. I have no idea why I would ever care enough to serve any royalty. I don’t serve anyone anymore, other than myself.

Man 2: All anyone can do nowadays. You want the first milk bottle of the day? On the house, loyal thief.

Matron: Thank you, Randall, I am in your debt, even if the title of thief scars me so, these days. If anyone in the circle needs me, though I know they don’t, I will be over by the castle gardens.

Ran: One day you’ll get caught. You might want to be more hesitant in visiting all the time.

Matron: Goodbye, Randall.

Ran: So long.

[Matron crosses, closing his eyes and taking a swig of his milk as he exits stage right. The spotlight goes back to Ravel and the last guard on the other side of the stage.]

Ravel: I cannot believe my father fell so easily for a fool. While I never wanted to fight Ragnarok, we will certainly fall if we put a wizard in the front lines. Really?! A wizard?! He is as mad as the man he called one! A jabbering jack that man was! I need some time alone, Sir Romu your name was?

Romu: Yes, prince.

Ravel: I will be going to the gardens. Please do not tell my father. If asked, I walked home to see the ‘wizard’ for myself. I will return shortly, I promise. Do keep this quiet. Will you?

Romu: Of course, my prince.

Ravel: Thank you. I will reward you greatly for being faithful to all members of the royal family, and not just I. My mother and father often take what they have for granted, but not I.

[Ravel exits the scene stage right as the stage goes dark.]

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

“Brisé, pourtant vivant”- Part I - S.B.

A/N: Hello people! This is my first attempt writing fan fiction. So, naturally, Sirius Black it is.(x OC) I would love to receive any kind of feedback! Feel free to drop by and let me know if you liked it. Also, you can send me your requests.  [Warnings: Firstly, my English…since it’s not my native language. And then we have triggering thoughts(maybe?) and swearing. (Age gap?) Let me know if there is anything else] {I don’t own the gif/ Credits to the original owner. Also… to her highness J.K Rowling.}

PART II 

I looked up at the night sky. Times were getting dark again.I was around 8 years old the last time I heard that name. Before today, that is. It has been fourteen years since then. Voldemort is back. And so is the Order. I wasn’t aware of Tonks talking to me. I wasn’t paying any attention. My mind was wondering in everything awful I had witnessed. Two bodies. Two innocent Muggles. Murdered by Deatheaters. My “parents”. Poor excuse of a family.     “Trueblood, are you even listening?”, Moody’s voice said rushing me out of my mind. Of course I wasn’t. How could I be? Without waiting for an answer, he turned to the others and explained every detail of his master plan to get Harry to Grimmauld Place.     “Trueblood wait for us there”. After all this time, you would think that I had developed immunity to all the horror my family was spreading. But no. I couldn’t seem to be able to handle it. And that’s why I wasn’t even thinking about rebelling against his words. I was not okay. I just nodded, gaining a few worried glances. They were preparing for departure. I turned around, ready to apparate. “Rose are you alright?”. I turned on my heel and saw a very concerned Remus. “Yeah”, I simply answered, forcing a small smile. But it was too painful, that it fell almost immediately. Which didn’t go unnoticed. “It’s not your-”. I did not give him a chance to finish his sentence. “fault? Yeah”, heard it all before. But it was my fault. So fucking much. I shrugged it off and apparated inside the Grimmauld Place.     I was greeted by the most awful sounds. Walburga’s portrait was screaming once again. “Shut up” I spat out, in such a flat tone that I barely recognized as my own. Much to my surprise, she did. And she never shuts up. Ever. “That’s a first”. I didn’t have to turn around to realize who it was. I felt silly. Like I- “Hey” was all I could master. I knew that it’s kind of rude to have your back turned on people… Merlin, why was it so difficult? Reluctantly, I faced him. That was a mistake.     His gray eyes were piercing through mine. But not in the way I wanted. “What happened?” he asked in a hushed voice so Walburga would remain quiet as he gestured away from the portrait and towards the kitchen. I nodded and followed suit.     Another unpleasant voice. Kreacher. “Filthy little blood-traitor. As good as a mud-blood. My poor mistress…” he murmured to me. I just sighed. That was something I could take. However, Sirius… not so much. “Out” he ordered him. After a hateful glance, Kreacher left… probably to go and adore Walburga. “I’m sorry about him” he said sincerely. “It’s okay. I mean, in order to get offended by him, I would actually have to value his opinion. Which I don’t” I simply stated while I sat down.     For a brief moment, I felt his gaze upon me. It sent shivers down my spine. But the moment passed. “So… who killed those Muggles?” he asked casually, while he poured himself a fire whiskey. I needed something much stronger if I was to survive this. “My beloved parents”. My tone might have been casual but I felt like someone was ripping my heart out, forcing my lungs to shut down and stop working.   Let me explain. I am a Trueblood. Once, I belonged to the most ancient house of pureblooded wizards and witches. “Toujours sang royal” was the moto I had to keep living up to for so long. The Trueblood line is a bloodline of queens and kings. Royalty. Crème de la crème. All of them were always sorted into Slytherin. Always. They also had a tendency to be extremely good at mastering the Dark Arts… meaning that when Voldemort rose, they were by his side. Every time he was on the rise… every time he was in the fall. Unlike a Malfoy, a Trueblood will stand their ground. So damn proud, egotistical and evil. They enjoy torturing innocent people… they enjoy killing without second thoughts. They enjoy being… exactly who they are.     And then, there was me. I wasn’t sorted into Slytherin but Ravenclaw, while my best friend was a Weasley. First strike. I never gave a flying fuck about blood statuses. Second strike. I refused to become a Deatheater. Third-and final-strike. I ran away when I was sixteen. I got disowned. I never wanted to see them again. Yet, here I was, trying to ignore the familiar pain. Even though they had used the cruciatus curse on me many times, I still struggled to recollect myself every time I knew they used it on someone else. Blood purity and bullshit. Why couldn’t they see that we all bleed the same red, sticky substance? What else was there to it? I was so lost in my thoughts…which, of course, led me to stare into space. Eventually, I gained conscience, blinked a few times and looked at Sirius, only to find his eyes already fixed on me. I shrugged and tried to look anywhere but near him. “You do know that this is none of your fault, right?” he asked-stated, his eyes spreading fire inside my mind. I finally found the courage to look at him. It was my fault. It was every bit my fault.   “But it is. I had a chance to… to eliminate them… and I didn’t” I said in what came out as almost a whisper. His eyes widened instantly. And I looked away once again. It was true. I had a chance to kill them, a year ago… but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. “Rose”. The way my name sounds falling off of his lips… demanding me to look at him. But I- how could I? “Rose”. I wanted to scream at him to stop. Stop torturing me. Because I was an idiot. Out of the blue, a firm hand grasped my chin, forcing my head up. I was electrified by his touch. “I am weak” I blurted out, keeping my eyes closed. His hold on my face tightened. “You are not weak. What was asked of you was simply wrong. You are not weak Roza”. My eyes shot open at the sound of my nickname. Well, it was only him, who called me that, anyway. I got lost in his eyes. For a split of a second, I almost forgot. And then everything came back in waves. Wave after wave… crushing me. How could anyone see me like that? Moreover, how could he? I had to constantly remind myself that he only saw me as a friend… at best. How could I be so stupid? How could he actually return any of my feelings? He was thirteen years older than me…and he was Sirius Black for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even stand a chance. I never did and never will. And that was going to be okay at some point. I guessed.   I removed myself from his grasp and stood up, trying too hard not to touch him, even by accident. I must have looked stern, to say the least. But it was better for him to think that than anything else. La douleur exquise… It felt just like drowning but you won’t fucking die.   “Les rois et les reines sont condamnés à perdre la tête. Tellement pour sang royal” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word, as I made my way out of that kitchen, which all of the sudden seemed too small. I could feel how confused he was but he didn’t do anything to stop me from leaving. And deep down, I wanted him to stop me. Who was I kidding? So much for royal blood, Rose.

Brisé, pourtant vivant = Broken, yet alive Toujours sang royal = Always royal blood Les rois et les reines sont condamnés à perdre la tête. Tellement pour sang royal = Kings and queens are condemned to lose their heads. So much for royal blood 

Part III

Part IV

Part V (smut)

[xollos]

ooh time for taz speculation

ok ok ok so pretty much anyone can be a red robe in a person suit right

and with our boys’ death count theyre probably three of those

there were 7 red robes in total, but the one called lup died and was found in the cave in here there be gerblins

so we have 5 red robes accounted for, so there are 2 yet to be revealed

i propose: pringles is another red robe (which probably everyone else has already figured out but im not paying attention whats upppp)

my line of thinking is that the bob has no problem with straight up killing anyone who might turn rogue like they have an entire UNIT of people dedicated to taking them down, butttt lucretia worked it out with the boys after crystal kingdom when she wanted to know why they didn’t run from the lich

so just throwing pringles in jail didnt make sense like why didnt she either talk it out or kill him? because if hes a red robe she can’t let him go free and killing him just gives him free reign as a lich

pringles not having any idea whats up checks out since bbj says when ur in ur body u dont remember anything, and i guess it would have something to do with why he was just like wandering around in bob

nowwww im trying to figure out how lu and bob fit into the endgame showdown

i REALLY REALLY dont think the bob is evil; the relics are most definitely corruptive weapons of mass destruction and the red robes themselves were scared of him, mag was scared of the chalice and the relics are deffo being destroyed so thats good

(plus everyone at bob is lovable and perfect)

(also if theres this super powerful, corrosive bad thing ur scared of why are u gonna dump it off on 2 random strangers? it puts them in danger! what if they use it? why do that? i wanna find out)

with the new info we have im going back through the early episodes to remember what expo there was and lu initially described the red robes as rogue wizards who were experimenting and went too far, and if the bois found any, to bring them to the bob to get information lu said could be vital

but things changed! after the lich showed up, lu told the bois that if they saw it again, to run, just run. so why the change of heart? im still thinking about that. hang with me. 

obviously something changed there. lu learned new info on the red robes. maybe it was the fact that it was a lich that made her afraid? i cant help but think there’s more. there has to be, if im right about pringles.

i think its pretty surefire that there’s a second voidfish containing info on the interstellar war so no one knows about it. i was thinking that maybe, somehow, lu was inoculated, but on second thought probably not. lucretia’s a go-getter and would definitely do something about it. she’s done nothing to demonstrate that she’s aware of anything bigger picture than the relics

except pringles

but not the rest of that stuff. and she would do something about it. 

bbj said something about going to bob and getting answers, so i think its fair to say that she knows something he doesnt, even in lich form, orrrr she knows things that she shouldnt and bbj wants to know how.

so what does she know, and how does she know what she knows? 

also: is she aware of the bois’ status? and as long as they didnt know what was up they weren’t dangerous, and when robbie was wandering around that made him a threat but the bois are good? or was it something about pringles wandering around that alerted her that something was up?

i dont think shes evil. i really dont. shes been so concerned about the bois well being! and shes such a well-rounded character! and i would like to think that griffin would know better than to make this wonderful, three-dimensional, badass woc character be evil.

i was afraid that she was gonna be a puppet, but that line she has in the spa about not relying on anyone else is deffo not something a puppet would say. also i love her.

i deffo think were gonna see her in combat tho. shes so powerful she just tapped her staff a lil bit and instantly knocked out the bois for long enough to set up the trial of initiation. right now it looks like shes gonna fight the bois, but that doesnt mean they cant work things out. kravitz was a big antagonist for a while, remember. i bet shes gonna do some cool shit. i love her.

i think cam thinking well of her is also important in the context of the narrative, and not painting her as a bad person. i was fully prepared for cam to stab them in the back, tho

so back to how does lu know what she knows ok ok ok: lup had the umbra staff right

and there were a bunch of umbra wizards that made cool wands and staves and stuff

maybe the staff lu always has on her at all times is connected to that, dont u think? 

maybe she has ties with the red robes? maybe shes the final lich? maybe she somehow remembered some stuff, not everything but enough to be scared bc it seems like she wants to stay waaaaaaay away from the red robes, or at least wants the bois to hmmmmm im rlly scratching my head on this one “ive stopped relying on others” sounds like someone maybe could have broken from the red robe organization maybe??

oh yeah the solstice carnival! ppl are theorizing that everything is on a loop a la eleventh hour. gundren rockseeker said his dad was locked up with the gauntlet for ten years, and refuge was in a bubble for like 7 years, so it’s been longer than a year. im still pulling that the eclipse marked 1 year till endgame, since theyve been working at bob for over a year now. come on!! how dramatic!!! anyway there were definitely other plane shenanigans going on there

what are those little white things anyway i always picture them as the forest spirits from princess mononoke but like what are they there for

hmm also bbj was so miserable when they didnt trust him after refuge. why did he address his words to lup? whats the story there? 

hmm, and there’s still another relic out there. maybe justin was right and it was love all along.

im gonna add to this as i work back through the podcast but this is where im at rn

also i have memory problems so i probs forgot a lot of contradictory info

[rozzywrites]

A Magical Number || Ron/Hermione || PG

Title: A Magical Number Summary: Seven kisses in the life of Ron and Hermione. They weren’t always perfect, but they were certainly memorable.

Notes: Originally posted in 2010 (geez that’s a long time ago). This story was written for the Seven Kisses Challenge at HPFC. ffn. ao3.

I Innocence

She looked so fragile, lying there, dwarfed by the hospital bed with its indifferent white sheets. Ron was continually drawn to her bedside by some unknown force, and he sat and stared at her unseeing eyes, wishing desperately that they were closed so he could pretend she was asleep. Instead, a feeling of anxiety sat heavy in his stomach, even when he was sitting in lessons or talking with Harry.

Like he’d seen his mother do for his brothers and sister when they were sick, Ron reached out a hand to touch her hair. And then, without thinking, without really knowing why, he leant forward and pressed his tender lips to hers.

He never told anyone about that kiss. It was his own special, private moment, something no one had ever shared with her before. He never even told Hermione, because he didn’t know how to, but sometimes, somehow, he thought she knew.

II Desperation

She didn’t know whether it was the uncertainty of the battle, the adrenaline coursing through her veins or his concern for the house elves. All Hermione knew was that she had abandoned every restraint that she’d carefully built up over the years and was now kissing him with almost reckless enthusiasm.

She hadn’t paused to think whether he would return the kiss, and yet amazingly he was. She could taste him, feel him pressed up against her. For one of the first times in her life, Hermione forgot all her inhibitions and acted completely on instinct.

She tightened her hold on his neck to bring his face even closer to hers and give her tongue better access to his unexplored mouth. His fingers at her waist pressed harder into her flesh, as if they were both determined to squeeze as much of each other into his moment as they could. For those few brief seconds, amidst the chaos of war, there was only them, and it was perfect.

III Awkwardness

It had been exactly seventy-nine hours since it happened. It was much more like Hermione to keep track like that than Ron, but he’d found himself obsessing over her and The Kiss, probably to keep his mind off everything that separated him from that moment.

He found himself trying to find ways to be alone with her, yet was frightened of what might happen if he was. But finally (terrifyingly?) they were the only ones left in the sitting room late that night, seventy-nine hours after it happened.

“Ron—”

She’s started speaking but it was too late; he’d already begun moving towards her. His mouth swallowed her words and she gave a muffled squeak in surprise. His hand was rough on her cheek and his mouth was hard on hers.

With dismay he realised she was pushing at his chest. He pulled his face away from hers, eyes immediately falling to the floor. “Sorry,” he muttered. He couldn’t believe he’d already screwed it up—actually, yes he could. He was always screwing it up when it came to her.

Her eyes, though, were full of tenderness. “It’s okay,” she said. “I do want this, Ron. Just… not yet.”

IV Passion

The lights of a strange city twinkled in the distance, but the countryside around them was very dark indeed. The air outside was frigid but the little cottage was warm and cosy, thanks to a roaring fire provided by the Australian Ministry official who met them at the Portkey Office.

“I wish Harry could have come,” said Ron, stroking Hermione’s hand with his thumb.

“I’m sort of glad,” said Hermione. “It’s nice to have time, just the two of us.”

There was no mistaking the look in her eyes. She leant towards him and tilted her face up. He met it eagerly.

The kiss began soft and slow, like all the others since that disastrous second one. But something was different that night; maybe it was the firelight, or the anticipation of being so close to their goal. Whatever it was, her fingers were soon tangled in his hair, and his hand found its way under all her layers of clothes to close on her warm waist.

Hermione gave a little moan. It was this that gave Ron the courage to slide his hand higher up her back until he felt the lace edge of her bra. She moaned again. Ron was amazed that he gained even more pleasure from this sound, this evidence of her own satisfaction, than from the feel of her mouth or her skin.

Breathless, she finally pulled away. His hands still caressed the sensitive skin of her back. The intensity of their shared gaze enthralled and frightened them. His voice came out soft and rough. “I love you.” The words felt strange on his lips.

V Reunion

She had been listening for him for hours. Once upon a time, two months would have seemed like nothing, but these two months without him had been agony.

There it was—the telltale pop. She banged open the door and there he was, his face hard and determined, reminding her of Ginny. Without a word she was caught up in his embrace, their mouths finding the connection they had both been craving.

He felt different, Hermione realised, as the part of her mind that was always analysing kicked into action. His arms and chest were harder against her body, the muscles more defined. She dimly supposed that two months of intense training as part of Auror qualification would do that to you.

She tugged at his hair in an attempt to bring him even closer, trying feel and taste as much of him as she could, to tell him how much she’d missed him without words. Although his kiss was ardent and forceful, his expression was gentle when he finally pulled away.

“Hi,” he said, and she laughed. Her life was whole again.

VI Relief

“Ron!”

She looked so distressed, he almost laughed. He knew how he must look—the dirt, the bruises, the blood (most of it not his, thankfully), the Healer brandishing nasty-smelling paste—but really, she had nothing to worry about.

She ran to him and took his face gingerly in her hands. “Relax,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“But…” Her eyes were still wide with worry. “I heard—an attack—St Mungo's—”

“Hermione,” he said firmly. “I’m okay. Really.”

“It’s true,” said the Healer. “Just a few bruises. Now hold still Mr Weasley. You won’t thank me if this stuff gets in your eyes.”

Obedient, Ron held his head still as the Healer dabbed at a growing bruise on his hairline. He took Hermione’s trembling hands and smiled patiently.

“There,” said the Healer.

“May I kiss my wife now?” asked Ron.

“You may,” said the Healer with a smile. “He really is okay, Mrs Weasley.”

She still didn’t look quite convinced as she eyed his bloodstained robes, but she soon forgot her concern as he pressed his lips to hers. She responded fervently, curling her fingers into the front of his robes, until—

“Ahem,” said the Healer.

VII Bliss

For the first time in her life (or at least, the bits of it that mattered), Hermione was not worried about anything.

“There are no dark wizards pursuing an evil vendetta against our best friend,” said Hermione.

“We’re not hiding from Voldemort in a godforsaken tent, freezing our arses off,” said Ron with a grimace.

“My parents aren’t on the other side of world, with no idea that I exist.”

“My sister isn’t trying to sneak into battle.”

“My husband isn’t out risking his life everyday,” said Hermione.

“I know,” said Ron. “It feels amazing. I still feel bad for leaving Harry alone, though.”

“Don’t,” said Hermione. “Harry can look after himself. And he understands. You did it for all of us.”

“Our family,” said Ron with awe.

He drew the fabric of her shirt up over the gentle swell of her belly, before placing a kiss on her navel. They both gazed at the evidence of their growing family for a few moments. Finally, Ron lifted his head, and was met by his wife’s lips on his.

[irenenorth]

New Post has been published on Irene North

New Post has been published on http://www.irenenorth.com/writings/2017/08/when-will-you-step-up-and-speak-out/

When will you step up and speak out?

I almost can’t believe I’m writing about Nazis.

Growing up in the 1970s and 1980s in upstate New York, I heard about Nazis a lot. They were the evil people the world fought in World War II. Why the world fought is a complicated matter, but in simple terms, Nazis wanted to eliminate anyone not like them. To them, Jews were most responsible for the ills in Germany. But if you were Polish, mentally ill, old, etc., you were a target as well.

While the Nazis were defeated, remnants of their ideology lingered. In the United States, the First Amendment to our Constitution values free speech so much, Nazis, white nationalist and fascists are allowed to continue with their rhetoric and protests. As a teenager, I saw and read news articles about the Ku Klux Klan, Neo-Nazis, and white nationalist rallies. Most of them were in the South. Everyone laughed. We knew these people were on the fringes of society. We educated ourselves about these groups and decided we wanted no part of any group promoting hate and exclusion of others.

Fast forward to the last decade. These hateful people were still around, but they received validation from people who did not like a black man in the White House. They hung President Obama in effigy. They called him vile names.

Throughout the 2016 presidential campaign, they came back with a vengeance. Conservatives didn’t admonish them. Some liberals didn’t either. Everyone was under the impression these repugnant human beings were still on the fringe. Donald Trump seemed to encourage them.

I, and others, however, warned what a Trump presidency could be like. On election day, I told several people their vote for Trump would only embolden the racists. They scoffed. They said they weren’t racist. I explained a vote for Trump was a vote condoning sexist and racist behavior. They wouldn’t believe me. Today, I sit in my living room, having watched the events which unfolded on Saturday, Aug. 12, 2017 and I again have this same argument. Only this time, the Trump supporters I know are saying these people were just “fed up Americans” and they aren’t racist or Nazis.

I’m fed up, too. I don’t, however, kill people or treat others like garbage to make myself feel superior. I attempt to talk to others, at least those who are willing to have an honest, open dialogue and don’t regurgitate Breitbart or FOX News.

You are Nazis. If you walk around with swastika tattoos, yell, “Jews will not replace us,” “Seig Heil,” and “Blood and Soil,” you’re a Nazi. If you extend the Nazi salute, you’re a Nazi. And these people like what they hear from the president.

A HISTORY LESSON

Yes, they are racist. If we don’t do something to stop this now, it will only get worse.

In recent years, there has been a push to remove Confederate statues and monuments from their respective places in the South. Some have said this is an effort to rewrite history. Those who live in the South believe their ancestors were heroes who were defending the south against oppressors in Washington. Many claim the south was fighting for state’s rights, but that’s disingenuous.

In their declarations of causes of seceding from the United States, the southern states made clear, their property – slaves – were at the heart of the matter.

Georgia said, “For the last ten years we have had numerous and serious causes of complaint against our non-slave-holding confederate States with reference to the subject of African slavery. They have endeavored to weaken our security, to disturb our domestic peace and tranquility, and persistently refused to comply with their express constitutional obligations to us in reference to that property, and by the use of their power in the Federal Government have striven to deprive us of an equal enjoyment of the common Territories of the Republic.”

Georgia went on to say everyone agreed Africans were subordinate and unequal to Whites and the North didn’t complain when they received goods from the south made with slave hands, so there are no need to argue it now. Georgia ended its declaration by saying depriving them of their slaves would result in a subversion of society and destruction of their families.

Mississippi said, “Our position is thoroughly identified with the institution of slavery– the greatest material interest of the world. Its labor supplies the product which constitutes by far the largest and most important portions of commerce of the earth. These products are peculiar to the climate verging on the tropical regions, and by an imperious law of nature, none but the black race can bear exposure to the tropical sun. These products have become necessities of the world, and a blow at slavery is a blow at commerce and civilization.”

Mississippi listed 14 reasons it was seceding. Four did not directly relate to slavery.

South Carolina said the Declaration of Independence said they were free, sovereign and independent states. Citing Article IV of the U.S. Constitution, South Carolina was angry the North didn’t uphold the law which stated if a slave escaped into another state, it was that state’s responsibility to return the slave back to the party to “whom such service or labor may be due.” In the declaration, South Carolina was angry at the belief the entire government now thought as the northern states did.

Texas viewed the United States as a country that wanted slaves forever. Texas was upset that no more state could join the Union as slave states and called the Northern States disloyal and the federal government imbeciles. Texas was also angry that the government did not do enough to protect them from “Indian savages” and the “murderous forays of banditti from the neighboring territory of Mexico.”

Texas accused abolitionists of “actively sowing the seeds of discord through the Union.” Texas lists seven ways these groups have deprived slave owners of their slaves.

Virginia also said the federal government perverted their powers, “not only to the injury of the people of Virginia, but to the oppression of the Southern Slaveholding States.”

That’s right. The southern states were being oppressed. Not black people. That’s what they believed.

Imagine if these people ever faced actual oppression. pic.twitter.com/dhPCbtfEjO

— Julius Goat (@JuliusGoat) August 12, 2017

Yes, secession was technically a state’s rights issue, but for anyone to ever say it had nothing to do with slavery is a liar. Those state’s rights were about keeping their property – slaves.

Do not let others claim only a minority of people owned slaves. While this is true, the majority in the South supported slavery. It’s a twisting of the truth to validate their point.

This is what you are celebrating if you are celebrating the Confederacy. The confederate flag is not a symbol of southern heritage. It is a symbol of hate, exclusion and white superiority. It always has been.

And if you want to put it in the context of the times, half the country didn’t want slavery and most of the world had already abolished it. Slavery was abolished in the British Empire in 1833. The empire had abolished the slave trade in 1807. Western and Eastern Europe, Central and South America all abandoned slavery and serfdom in the early 1800s to 1859.

IT’S TIME TO CHANGE

Saturday, August 12, 2017 is a stain on our nation. Those who marched with their tiki torches, Hitler salutes and screamed, “Blood and Soil” are cowards and terrorists.

Donald Trump stroked the racist’s egos and stoked the irrational fear they have of other people. Trump’s rhetoric emboldened these people. The silence of people who voted for Trump and claim they are not like this, are giving tacit approval of their actions.

During the election campaign, Trump received vocal support from white nationalist groups. He refused to condemn the KKK. He was endorsed by former KKK Grand Wizard David Duke. Trump repeatedly attacked the Obama administration and Presidential candidate Hillary Clinton for being weak on radical Islamic terrorism. Yet he is silent on radical white terrorism.

If a Muslim had driven that car on Saturday, would we be calling this terrorism? You know we would. This was a domestic terrorist attack by neo-Nazi white supremacists. Trump is weak on terrorism, but when it’s his base, he won’t contradict them.

This country needs to educate itself once again to rid ourselves of racism, bigotry and hatred. We need to tell every citizen white supremacy is not acceptable. It is not normal. There is no discussion on this. If we want to return to normal, we cannot accept hatred and fear of “the other.”

Virginia Governor Terry McAuliffe told the group, many of whom aren’t from Virginia, “Go home. You are not wanted in this great commonwealth. Shame on you. You pretend that you’re patriots, but you are anything but a patriot.”

CORRECTING HISTORY

Over the past few years, several states have been removing Confederate statues and monuments. This is not rewriting history. This is correcting history. The Confederate cause was not honorable. If you support the Confederacy today, you are supporting slavery.

Confederate General Robert E. Lee was a traitor. He fought so one group of people could keep another group of people as slaves. No, he wasn’t against slavery. That’s a myth conjured up to make him more kind and palatable. He explicitly said he was pro-slavery in an 1856 letter.

“I think it however a greater evil to the white man than to the black race, & while my feelings are strongly enlisted in behalf of the latter, my sympathies are more strong for the former. The blacks are immeasurably better off here than in Africa, morally, socially & physically. The painful discipline they are undergoing, is necessary for their instruction as a race, & I hope will prepare & lead them to better things. How long their subjugation may be necessary is known & ordered by a wise Merciful Providence. Their emancipation will sooner result from the mild & melting influence of Christianity, than the storms & tempests of fiery Controversy.”

Peter Cvjetanovic, 20, seen in the picture above, told KTVN Channel 2 in Reno, Nevada he isn’t a racist.

“I came to this march for the message that white European culture has a right to be here just like every other culture,” Cvjetanovic told Channel 2 News.  “It is not perfect; there are flaws to it, of course. However I do believe that the replacement of the statue will be the slow replacement of white heritage within the United States and the people who fought and defended and built their homeland. Robert E Lee is a great example of that. He wasn’t a perfect man, but I want to honor and respect what he stood for during his time.”

The man he wants to honor is one who took pleasure in the physical punishment of slaves and splitting up slave families.

Historian Elizabeth Brown Pryor told The Atlantic, “Wesley Norris, one of the slaves who was whipped, recalled that ‘not satisfied with simply lacerating our naked flesh, Gen. Lee then ordered the overseer to thoroughly wash our backs with brine, which was done.’”

John C. Breckinridge was the last Confederate States Secretary of War. He fled the country after the South lost the Civil War. He is a coward, but he has a memorial in Kentucky. Lexington Mayor Mayor Jim Gray said it’s coming down, along with all the other Confederate statues and monuments in town.

Leave the battlefields. Leave Appomatox Court House. Teach the real history in books and museums. Don’t honor traitors in public spaces. Monuments and statues are for raising people up who made the world better.

A CHANGE NEEDS TO COME

James Alex Fields Jr. (c.) brandished a shield from the Vanguard America group before the Charlottesville attack. (Go Nakamura/New York Daily News)

The terrorist from Saturday is James Fields Jr., 20, of Maumee, Ohio. He marched with Vanguard America, a fascist organization, before plowing over pedestrians. The group is already trying to distance themselves from Fields, claiming he wasn’t a member, therefore they aren’t responsible for his actions.

But they all are responsible. Anyone who voted for Trump is responsible. Anyone who failed to learn history when it was taught to you in school is responsible.

When you said you couldn’t vote for Hillary Clinton, you voted for this. When you watched people roughed up and beaten at Trump rallies, you voted for this. When you excused his “grab ’em by the pussy” comments, you voted for this. When you listened to the man at the pulpit, you voted for this. When white nationalists endorsed Trump, you voted for this. When you ignored Trump’s racist comments, you voted for this. When you poo-pooed his mocking a disabled reporter, you voted for this.

When you say nothing about the incident in Charlottesville, you condone it. When you try to use “whataboutism” on this incident, you condone it.

But I am still standing across the street. There is no line in the sand. Come and stand on my side and loudly proclaim, “This is not right. This is not normal” and be on the right side of history.

Our grandparents and great-grandparents hunted and killed Nazis for the ideology spewed forth on Saturday. We should never allow it to return to normal. Don’t make excuses for them. It makes them stronger.

The U.S. Constitution gives them the right to gather and shout their words of hate. It doesn’t absolve them of the consequences of their speech. Make them own it. Don’t let them hide under a hood. These people are remnants of history. May they return to the textbooks and not our streets.

As President Barack Obama tweeted and Nelson Mandela wrote in his autobiography, “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin or his background or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love. For love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

It’s time we help them learn how to love.