#molly is the kind of person who would let himself just bleed out if he thought it would save someone else

[dent-de-leon]

Lucien is like a fun vampiric archetype kinda character to me. His whole power is about blood and sacrifice. In the Orders, blood hunters would mix their blood together and then literally just drink it. Lucien gifts Cree a vial of his own blood, something that they both consider sacred. He even vows to her, "Blood of mine for blood of yours."

Lucien is both dead and alive--Taliesin mentions he was always certain Mollymauk would've set off Detect Undead. Lucien is among the living once again, and yet, still a ghost forever haunting his own skin--he's felt death sink its claws into him. He's tasted immortality. He sees himself as a god, a king, claims other mortals are beneath him. "I've come to take my reign, long may it be."

(And if we want to talk about Tealeaf as a spirit, Lucien as metaphorically undead--I think it's also worth noting that Mollymauk is also intended to be Taliesin's interpretation of a mermaid. Specifically, because they supposedly have no souls. Soulless? Clawing out of their own grave feeling hollow, empty, forever changed? Sounds very reminiscent of vampires to me, at least thematically--)

Lucien is the ruling lord; inheritance of the whole broken world is his destiny, his birthright. He's an orphan child all alone in the world, curled up in an abandoned cellar for shelter, desperate for an escape.

To the ruling families of Shadycreek and powerful mages of the Cerberus Assembly? Lucien Tavelle is nothing, nobody, another tool to be discarded when he's no longer of use. In another life, he's the exact kind of unfortunate, lonely soul who would've been led to a monster. The kind of person Gustav let Kylre devour--"Those no one would miss." As just a chid, Lucien is forced to feed other desperate souls to a monster himself. Just as much of a victim as the puppets on display in the witch's house.

Something about how Lucien has all these vampiric qualities of a powerful--cursed--undead monster, how he hungers for connection and control over other desperate souls, feeding on the dreams and minds of city trapped for centuries. And yet, the fact that his whole power is about sacrifice, and how that's reflected in Molly.

Someone who will bleed himself dry to save everyone else. Recklessly risking his neck for someone who might never thank him. Unable to bear watching others suffer--willing to stand and fight in their stead. Taliesin taking this premise of someone who's supposed to be hollow and empty and without a soul, someone who's often seen as monstrous, and yet...being so full of love and joy, he gains a soul all his own--

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

anyway I adore Kingsley so have a character study I guess <3

Kingsley bounds to the front of the ship, looking out at the water with childlike glee. Childlike is right, he’s technically not even three months old. Sometimes he feels older, sometimes he really does feel like the child the others seem to think he is.

Everything is still so fascinating and new but also familiar. The ship isn’t familiar, neither is the water, but the people are. Jester and Fjord. It feels as though he should know them but he doesn’t.

Every so often he gets a flash of a memory, Jester smiling up at him, whispering to him in Infernal. Or Fjord bisecting some kind of creature with a sword.

He doesn’t tell them as much, doesn’t want them to get their hopes up that whoever inhabited this body before him is returning. He’s not that person anymore, either of them, and it’s taking them all some adjusting.

Kingsley takes a big breath of salty air as the wind blows his coat back, certain with every bone in his body, that he's never done this before.

They tell him he used to read fortunes. And apparently they’re right. His hands know the worn deck of tarot cards Jester hands him. He knows how to get the card he wants to the top and how to trick his customer into thinking he’s genuine. Kingsley hates it. It’s not him. It’s something else, someone else in his head bleeding through.

So he gives the tarot cards back to Jester. The next time they make port he purchases a worn book on palm reading. He reads through it in one night, burning a candle down to the stand. And the next day he spends hours just staring at his palm. 

His life line is frayed, splitting off into three lines. He traces a nail through them, wondering which one is his. Wondering if it even matters.

His heartline is the deepest one. It means you love deeply and completely, the book had said. And that’s the one he’s become fixated on. How can his hand know more about him than he does? It doesn’t make any sense and yet at the same time it makes the most sense of it all. This hasn’t always been his body. Maybe the line was meant for someone else. Lucien? Mollymauk? 

Sometimes when he lies in his hammock below decks, he’ll trace that line over and over again, hoping beyond anything that it belongs to him.

The nightmares are the worst part. More often than not in the early months, he wakes up screaming names he barely knows, looking at faces he doesn’t remember. He dreams of a city made of roiling flesh. He dreams of a snowy road and a sharp blade. He dreams of a figure in red staring down at him. He dreams of dirt and ash and books and eyes. So many eyes. 

Nothing but fucking eyes.

Jester is always there to comfort him. She’s good at that. She’ll hold him in her arms, let him cry and babble on and on about his dreams, switching mindlessly between Common and Infernal. She doesn’t judge. She doesn’t tell anyone.

She’ll braid his hair and sing a song her mother wrote her. Kingsley doesn’t know his mother. He doubts he ever will. And it eats at him far more than he would ever let on. Jester never sees his thumb digging into his life line almost hard enough to cut the skin.

Unlike the others, Caduceus has no expectations of him. He is a welcome friend, despite their many differences. It's Caduceus that Kingsley talks to when he can no longer stand the thought of staring at his palm, wondering what it all means.

Caduceus takes his hand, gentle as ever, and turns his hand over so Kingsley can no longer see the lines. He taps his thumb against the scar on the back of Kingsley's hand, asks him how he got it.

Kingsley is prepared to say he doesn't know, that it's a relic from Molly or Lucien. But then he takes a better look at it and smiles, telling Caduceus that it's from when Fjord tried to teach him to cook and a huge wave rocked the ship making him cut himself.

And in that instant, Kingsley understands the point Caduceus is trying to make. It doesn't matter who came before him, it doesn't matter which lines are his, because at the end of the day it's his body now. Every day he's figuring out who he is, he's adopting mannerisms, he's learning. And he's growing.

And that has to be enough.

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier divorce attorney AU of my dreams (hear me out):

-Geralt doesn't have regulars. Of course, he doesn't have regulars, he's a divorce attorney, a good one at that; sure sometimes there are clients that hire him twice because of mistakes or short-lived marriages, or he will have the odd person whose ex-partner he once helped, but in his ten-year-career, he's never once had a person come to him more than twice

-He has never married. The few long-term relationships he had didn't amount to anything in that regard and perhaps his job has spoiled the whole affair for him; there's never been a need either, he has his daughter Ciri, has his horse Roach which he rides on weekends, he couldn't be more content (or so he thinks)

(-Jaskier knows that many people would and do call him a whore, an adulterer, but he isn't. He is a romantic, a fall-in-lover, a dreamer, a free spirit. Which is why he gave himself the name 'Jaskier' (much more befitting of his character than Julian, what a common name) and why he tends to end up at the altar... more often than is strictly normative)

-The first time Jaskier enters Geralt's office, he acts as though it's the beginning of a Broadway show. He walks in, stands in the middle of the room and opens his arms wide. "Good day," he twitters and flashes Geralt the brightest grin. Geralt raises his eyebrows, but he isn't about to turn away a guy who looks affluent enough he can charge him a little extra. "Hello?" - "Julian Alfred Pankratz, call me Jaskier." Jaskier settles into the chair opposite Geralt's desk and puts his leather-clad feet up on them. Geralt pushes them off and asks: "Mr. Pankratz, what can I do for you?" - "Ah yes. My lover and muse, the Countess de Stael, has left me for another. The problem is that we got married just last month and I'm afraid she is going to bleed me dry if I don't have a proper attorney. You've been recommended to me by a friend. What do you say? Help out a fool?" What? Countess? Well. "Fine," Geralt says. "Let's talk fees."

-Jaskier is a lot and when the divorce is through and all aspects of their working relationship are settled, Geralt calls his babysitter - Yen's always happy to jump in on short notice - and invites his colleagues Lambert and Eskel to get drunk. Jaskier was annoying and exhausting, constantly babbling and flirting with Geralt and, god, he never wants to see him again.

-Of course, Geralt sees him again. By the time he does - half a year after the first time - Geralt has almost forgotten about Jaskier and his stupid Countess and how utterly drained that job left him. Jaskier sounds cheerful on the phone, not at all the common cadence for Geralt's clients, and comes into the office with two Macchiatos and a box of donuts; disgruntled, but unable to say no to sugar, Geralt allows for them to have the coffee over their conversation about Jaskier's upcoming divorce and it makes it more bearable. "So," Geralt says. "Give me a rough outline of the situation." Just to be prepared. Jaskier grins, wipes a sprinkle off his lips and takes a sip of coffee. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out. So about two months after you helped me last time, the Countess de Stael gave me a call..." Geralt wants to smack the man when he is done his well-embellished tale. Jaskier is obviously being used. But he's not here to judge, he's here to do his job and Jaskier pays well.

-The third is a woman called Molly. Geralt never gets to meet her, Jaskier never talks about her, it is as though she doesn't exist as more than a job to get done, a contract to fulfill. Aside from the topic of his soon to be ex-wife, Jaskier is more talkative than usual. He asks questions about Geralt's personal life, talks about his job - of course he's a broadway performer, 'star' doesn't quite apply - lingers. Geralt finds he... doesn't mind this time. It's nice to socialize for a bit, even if it is within the general bounds of his job. Jaskier makes him laugh somehow.

-"You should give me a discount," Jaskier jokes when he's there to leave a paycheck for Geralt for the fourth time (that Countess again, Geralt doesn't understand how they got married three times in a span of two years (in addition to that Molly woman)). "I don't give out discounts," Geralt replies. - "Why not? I'm a loyal customer, you should have a system for this." - "Mr. Pankratz, do you realize that you are the only person I know who goes through this many marriages in such a short amount of time?" - "Always knew I was special," Jaskier laughs and leaves with a small wave.

-"Okay, Geralt, what the hell?" Lambert asks, strutting in after Jaskier's gone with a bad temper written across his face. "Who is this man? And why does he keep coming back? You know I can hear his voice from my office. So if, like, you're having some sort of strange workplace affair, cut it the fuck out." -  "He's just an idiot who keeps getting married," Geralt says and waves Lambert away. He doesn't add that he kind of starts to miss the idiot.

-Priscilla is very nearly a different story, something Geralt only finds out after the fact. Jaskier breaks down before their court appointment, sobbing into Geralt's shoulder that he can't do it, he can't let her go, why doesn't she want him; by that point Geralt has known Jaskier for almost four years and the thought of him staying in a marriage for longer than half of one makes him queasy, gives him little bursts of pain against his breastbone; in truth, he's glad Priscilla's leaving Jaskier, antsy that it took almost a year for them to split up; she approaches him after the divorce is through, while Jaskier's in the courthouse bathroom crying his eyes out. "Tell him I'm sorry," Priscilla says and Geralt scowls at her. "Tell him I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have to. Tell him to wait for me." She leaves and Geralt doesn't even know why he should be the one to relay that message to Jaskier and so he doesn't. Jaskier never mentions her again.

-The sixth time is the Countess de Stael again and Geralt already prepared his case from the e-mail Jaskier sent ahead. The last three times all went in favour of the noblewoman who was able to protect her fortune, but Geralt thinks he can make a case for emotional manipulation and get Jaskier at least a sizable indemnity. "Mr. Pankratz," Geralt says when Jaskier comes for their appointment.  "Are you ever going to call me Jaskier?" Jaskier replies with a sigh and drops into the chair. His hair is tousled, there are deep half-moons under his eyes which look like he spent the whole night crying. Geralt's heart feels bruised, but he can't get involved dammit. "That would be inappropriate," he grunts. They get to work and Jaskier walks out with a broken-heart and a swollen bank account.

-"When will you give up on that woman?" Geralt asks when Jaskier saunters into his office one Friday, not three months after the last divorce. It's late afternoon and Geralt's ready for a weekend of watching Disney movies with Ciri, but Jaskier's always a sight for sore eyes these days. Not for the first time does Geralt consider asking him out for coffee, but the fact that he's only ever seeing Geralt because he's in need of a(nother) divorce somehow poses a barrier. "Now that is not very professional of you. To answer your question: right now. That's why I'm here." And for the first time with these two, it's Jaskier that wants the divorce, Jaskier that takes the initiative. He's only ever been the one to get dumped. Geralt's up all night thinking about that.

-For an entire year, Jaskier does not return and that annoys Geralt. He finds himself fretting, distracted, hoping Jaskier will turn up with another marriage to be dealt with, but he doesn't. The thought that Jaskier might have found someone he wants to stay with makes him physically ill. His code of conduct forbids him from using Jaskier's contact info though. Maybe this is for the best and anyway, Geralt is down to earth while Jaskier is... well, Jaskier. An emotional roller-coaster. He has his daughter and his horse and all is well. Only it isn't because Geralt managed to fall in love with Jaskier. (When Lambert and Eskel find out they laugh at him for two hours straight)

-Jaskier does turn up eventually, but not to get divorced again. He waits outside the building where Geralt works with two cups of coffee in hand and a tired smile. Geralt lets himself be led to a nearby bench, lets Jaskier speak. "I considered proposing to random strangers just to have another botched marriage for you to get me out of," Jaskier says. "But that would have been rather inconsiderate and there are easier ways to see you." - "I thought you might have found one that sticks," Geralt replies, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "I might have."  Jaskier winks at Geralt and Geralt decides to throw caution to the wind. He leans over and kisses Jaskier's lips, then mutters, "I don't ever want to see you in my office again." - "And here I thought that your desk would make such a great hmph..." Geralt shuts him up with another kiss. It feels right.  

[saphirered]

Could you write another fic for Kingsley? I absolutely adored The Lovers and there’s so little content for the pirate tiefling, it leaves me so sad. I was thinking something where the reader and him have been flirting for awhile but he’s still doubtful of wether they like him as Kingsley or they just see him as Molly. (The reader doesn’t, and they end up comforting him, just overall some of that good Hurt/Comfort)

Don't know why writing is taking so long for me but I blame the double shifts. Sorry this took so long to write. I hope it was worth the wait 😘

Some things are doomed to repeat themselves. Mollymauk had always been a huge flirt regardless of actual interests in people he knew exactly what to do and say to make someone blush. That’s not something lost in the resurrections. Kingsley is no different. Flirting comes like a second nature to the lavender tiefling.

Molly’s goal had been to make you blush a task difficult to achieve so when you quipped back each and every time the flirtations escalated to what some might consider inappropriate to be spoken in certain social circles. This little back and forth turned into a bit of a competition to see who could make the other blush or gasp the most because you did manage to get those responses of each other.

It was your game and when Kingsley began with endearing pet names you automatically felt yourself falling back into that habit. You don’t really know when you got back to the point where you’d be outright flirting but the gradual escalation happened before you caught on and since neither you nor Kingsley seemed to mind or made any efforts to stop your little game you continued to play.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months and you were both in full force with the flirtations where you might make others around you blush. Even those used to your comments. That’s something both you and Kingsley took pride in. Despite your words you’re always mindful of each others’ hardline boundaries. There’s a mutual respect. You always know when to stop and not take it too far. Though that doesn’t prevent you from walking that boundary like a tightrope.

Currently you’re standing on the bow of the ship looking over the ocean when an all too familiar voice calls for your attention. You look over your shoulder fully prepared in case you have to quip right back.

“Would you mind moving that pretty behind of yours somewhere else, love?” You watch Kingsley standing spyglass at the ready to take a closer look at the islands up ahead.

“If you wanted a closer look you could have just ask.” You wink and blow him a kiss as you move away from the bow to let Kingsley take your place and take a look as he does you catch him glance at you for just a moment. Of course you can do nothing but put on your best seductive face.

“If you’re offering, the lighting in my cabin will be perfect for the occasion.” Kingsley returns with a half smirk lowering the spyglass. Leaning on the wooden border you make sure to arc your back just a little crossing your ankles as you look over your shoulder thoughtfully.

“Hm. Any suggestions for a specific spot? Lighting can be quite tricky. Maybe you should show me every corner of the room just to make sure the view is perfect?” You tease. The Tiefling’s smirk widens, task forgotten, he wraps an arm around you pulling you close to him.

Kingsley leans in and for a second you think he’s going to kiss you. Not that you would stop him. You’d grown to like him but since he’s new to the world you didn’t want to push him into the deep end before having had a chance to discover and figure things out for himself. Your hands slowly snaking up his arms to his shoulders you wait for him to quip back.

“Don’t make offers you have no intention to make good on.” Kingsley breathes removing his arms from you and taking a step back. You’re confused. Mixed signals? Not at all. Not to you. You know he’s a tease and so are you but this is not a quip back. This is a statement. Why? The flirty demeanour drops so you’ll reply with a statement of your own.

“Who says I don’t intend to make good on it?” You gage Kingsley’s reaction but come up blank. Nothing that gives away the sudden mood change. He excuses himself and goes back to work so you do the same; replaying the events of the day to figure out what may have lead to this shift. Still nothing.

Next day comes around and every attempt at flirting is shot down. You know how to take a hint and at first just assume Kingsley just isn’t in the mood or headspace to play the game. You’ll leave him be for a few days to sort out whatever he needs to sort out. No more flirting for a while until he initiates it. Your conversations are more cordial and less warm than they used to be but Kingsley doesn’t avoid you so you at least take comfort in that.

After two weeks you’ve had enough. Another day of work gone by, sun setting slowly you find yourself standing in front of the lavender tiefling’s door. Rapping your knuckles against the wooden door you feel confident the knocks are audible. There’s no response so you knock again but again nothing. A little frustrated you try the handle and the door opens. You don’t fully open it just yet.

“Kingsley? Are you there?” You speak softly in case he’s asleep. You hear a muffled grumble and decide to step inside. There you see the tiefling sprawled out across the bed on his back, pillow over his face held in place by one hand. He doesn’t move but you see the rise and fall of his chest; enough to give away he is breathing and in fact awake.

You close the door behind you taking a look around the room. As expected there’s very few personal artefacts; a spare shirt thrown over a chair, a coin pouch on the table, coins spilled, blue book, a pair of fine boots, an empty bottle and a half full one as well as a half eaten plate of food presumably for dinner. The light of the setting sun bleeds through the paned window providing just enough lighting to make out the finer details of the room. It’s well kept and actually surprisingly tidy. The bed’s made and the pillows neatly placed, the shoes next to the side table and a chest at the foot of the bed. Not a speck of dust or grime to be found.

“Kingsley? Are you alright?” You ask sitting down at the edge of the bed hesitantly. You’re not really sure how to approach him. You don’t even remember your plan you had before you got here. There’s a hum in agreement as the pillow is lowered from his face.

“Yes. Yes, I’m totally fine.” Kingsley sighs staring at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He rubs his eyes and sits up facing you. He looks a bit tired but what did you expect after a busy day of work. You don’t look any different.

“Are you sure? You’ve been a bit out of it the past few weeks. I miss my flirty tiefling.” He snorts at the latter. Does he know something you don’t? Why the attitude? You’ll have to get to the bottom of this because you fear your- whatever it is you have with Kingsley depends on it.

“Fine then. I’m worried about you. One second we’re doing our thing and the next you push me away distancing yourself from me and giving me the cold shoulder. If my words upset you you should have just told me like you’ve always done. Why the sudden change? If you wanted me to stop or if I made you uncomfortable you should have said so.” You twiddle your thumbs awaiting a response fearful his shift behaviour was because of you because what else could it be?

Kingsley doesn’t answer just yet. A single glance at you and your stupid pretty face has him melting like chocolate on a hot day. He’s filled with regret because you’re right. He should have said something. Anything. You deserve that much but no, he had to be stupid and avoid the topic in the hopes it would go away. Problems don’t disappear into thin air. It requires communication.

A hand hesitantly grasps your twiddling fingers. You cease the motions looking at the man. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the look on his face is guilt and pity as he finds the words.

“This is not on you. This is on me being an idiot instead of just talking to you.” There’s a brief moment of silence as he silently begs the gods will be kind and you won’t hate him for bring this up. Then again, you’ve been nothing but understanding and patient in the past.

“No matter how much I love our flirtations I think they should end. If not for your sake, then for mine. It’s not… healthy.” You see him glance at the blue notebook on the table. So he’s read it. That explains the sudden shift. You’re mentally preparing yourself for whatever comes next fearing that what he might have read about you and your past has driven him to push you away. It’s his choice and his right but that wouldn’t make it less painful.

“I know now you had this thing with Mollymauk and now you’re continuing that with me. It snowballed into what we have-had but it can’t keep going. You’re holding onto a thread of the past and I feel like I’m trying to fill the spot he left just because I like you. It’s not healthy for either of us.” You give him a sad smile, your fears have been pushed down and you’re happy it’s not what you thought was going to happen but how wrong he is; it’s almost painful.

Kingsley is conflicted because he really does like you and wants to be what Molly used to be but he also knows he can never fill the spot of a ghost. Nor can he compete with it. He won’t force himself to be someone he’s not or fight to live up to the expectations even if he really wanted to because that’s not what a relationship of any kind is about.

“Kingsley… You fool… You really are a shit communicator.” You laugh. Taken aback he doesn’t know wether he should be confused or offended.

“If you’d only just asked… You’ll never be Molly and I do not ever want you to be so never try to. I like you because of who you are and yes we might have fallen into a habit he and I once shared but that ended and what we have is not the same. Never pretend to be someone you’re not.”

“Well, not unless you’re conning someone.” Kingsley quips. The relief your words are honest washes over him. It’s like he can breathe again or was holding a breath he didn’t know he was. He had been so afraid that facing you with his conclusions would drive you away forever. Maybe he really needs to work on his communication skills to you?

“There’s the Kingsley I know. Never pretend to be someone you’re not for me because you feel like you have to. That’s not healthy. Just be you. If you’re gonna make me fall in love with you, you don’t need anything but your own charm and that grin of yours.” You can see him fight that very grin from crawling up his face but it does anyway.

“I think you got me pegged, love.” You raise an eyebrow suggestively and smirk as he swats at you but you catch his hands. You’re about to comment but he breaks your grasp and pushes his hand over your mouth to quiet you down. You fight against him so determined to make your comment to the point you’re on your back held down by the tiefling, giggles muffled.

“When I remove my hand, you promise to say literally anything but the thing you’re thinking?” You nod and hum in agreement. Kingsley gives you a threatening look before slowly removing his hand to reveal your grin mischievously. Still looming over you awaiting any kind of comeback.

“You know, when you said the lighting in this room was lovely you weren’t lying.” You pat his cheek and trace the peacock feathers curling up his neck and side of the face as you bask in the final rays of sunlight illuminating the room in a deep orange glow.

“The view definitely has improved.” His gaze is on you not at all paying attention to the horizon. You laugh. So cheesy and he knows it. You become more aware of your current position. Some people might think it inappropriate but neither you not Kingsley give a single flying fuck. As long as you’re comfortable be damned the opinions of others.

“You know, when I suggested you showing me the corners of the room I had hoped you’d be more creative than starting with the bed.” You obviously feign disappointment. Kingsley accepts your challenge as you weave your fingers in the hair at the back of the neck pulling lightly to tease him.

“Oh shush you. Your words might come back to haunt you.”

“Is that a promise?” You bat your eyelashes but the grin on your face remains. Of course it’s a promise. You’re counting on it and Kingsley tends to keep his promises. Maybe this miscommunication is exactly what you needed because it lead to where you are now and wherever it might take you. The possibilities are endless and unpredictable. Just the way you like it.

[theleftovertaco]

Post War HCs

TW- mentions of panic attacks, hoarding, PTSD, self harm, if any of this may trigger something for you, don’t fucking read it.

I always kind of get annoyed when writers, shows or movies ignore the physical or mental trauma that their characters have. I understand in Harry Potter where the characters aren’t really shown past their first 7 years but I do have some personal HCs about how each of the characters fared following the second Wizarding War and the Battle of Hogwarts

All was not well.

Harry gets sensory overload, he’s anxious all the time, and over the following years he becomes a bit of a control freak, since he felt like he could barely control things around him as a teen. He spent nearly 7 years telling himself and others that he wanted to be an Auror, and he followed through, going through the training, passing his exams and finally becoming an Auror.

He gets burnout in less than 2 years before eventually resenting his job. It’s not for lack of trying, they do a lot the first few months in active duty and he moves up the ranks faster than anyone in Ministry history (being the chosen one has it’s perks).

But he feels like there’s so much that’s put on his plate, that he can’t control. Harry spent seven years at Hogwarts dodging Daily Prophet interviews and trying to live up to the expectations of being the Chosen One, and he hoped that after he killed Voldemort, those expectations would have been met and he could finally have some peace. 

The expectations grew. So did criticisms. Any singular mistake the Auror department made fell under his responsibility, at least, according to the press. 

At the one and a half year mark, he breaks, doesn’t show up for work one day, dodges his family and friends and takes off for a few weeks. He shows up later to press shoving their quick-quotes quills in his face and hands in an immediate notice of resignation. 

All was not well.

Hermione still wakes up in the middle of the night with stinging flesh, and she has to check over her limbs to make sure that Bellatrix didn’t somehow carve another slur into her, even though Hermione knows she’s dead. 

Sometimes she can still feel the knife carving into her arm, can still feel the blood dripping out of the wound.

She develops a fear of snakes over time, even the smallest garden snake makes her jump, considering her experience with snakes during the war was less than satisfactory, to say the least

Hermione puts her guard up when meeting diplomats as she rises the Ministry ranks. She never knows who is going to spout anti- muggle rhetoric in her face. She walks with her wand always in her hand. 

She never knows if a Voldemort sympathizer will jump out and attack her when she walks down Diagon Alley. 

All was not well.

Ron can’t be away from Hermione or Harry for too long or he gets separation anxiety. Spending nearly a decade in life or death situations makes him nearly unable to function unless he knows they’re both okay. 

Ron still feels a curling sensation in his gut if he is away from Hermione for too long. Sometimes he wakes up screaming her name when his nightmares make him relive the sounds of her being tortured by Bellatrix. 

After the third time of him showing up at her doorstep at odd hours of the night, she takes him to buy a landline so he can just call to confirm her safety.

Ron needs reassurance that his friends won’t leave him. He spent his whole life being mistaken or compared to his siblings. There is always that sinking feeling in his mind that one day, his friends will realize that they’re better than him, and they’ll move on.

It takes years of reassuring before he begins to believe it himself.

All was not well.

Fred lives, but his hearing is permanently damaged from the explosion. Sometimes he can still hear ringing sounds of the blast and his ears will randomly bleed. 

He tries to hold it together, to prove that he doesn’t need help with his hearing. 

It takes about eight months before he concedes and allows his mother to take him to get his ears looked at, but by that point the damage is too far down, so he tries muggle hearing aids. 

Sometimes Fred can still feel his lungs crushing in while he struggles to take another breath, can feel his ribcage closing in on his heart. Whoever he’s closest too will have to sit down with him and remind him that he’s not under a dark pile of rubble, unable to scream or speak or breath.

Sometimes it’s impossible for him to hear them though because when he has panic attacks his ears just, shut off, or he’ll rip out his aid. 

All was not well.

George still gets insane migraines and feels phantom pains on the left side of his head. He has to take potions to quell the constant pounding sensation in his head. 

He can never be apart from Fred for long. The five minutes of terror he went through when he believed his twin brother was dead have made him constantly worried for his brothers safety so he babies him all the time. Fred eventually gets fed up with him and snaps a few months in, yelling at him to “stop treating me like a child!”

George breaks down sobbing and they both end up going to joint therapy.

George is tired all the time. His job of being around kids in the shop all the time, working 12+ hour days, for 4-6 days a week tires him out. He needs his sleep. 

Fred often finds him slumped over at his desk or at a register and sends him home. 

He hits his breaking point when he refuses to sleep or rest for over 3 days and collapses while restocking.

Fred and George learn to enforce specific schedules, shifts no longer than ten hours for them and no more than nine for their employees. 

All was not well.

Ginny, Neville, Luna, Dean, and Seamus still wake up from nightmares of the first years screaming under the punishment of the Carrow twins. 

They snuck as many as possible into the Room of Requirement. 

But it wasn’t enough, and they all have memories scraped into their skulls of sending the body of a first year Hufflepuff home to sobbing parents after Amycus Carrow caught her reading the Quibbler. 

Ginny feels her scalp on fire years after her 6th year from when Alecto Carrow dragged her by the hair. 

She begins to tear out her own hair.

Ginny eventually breaks and just shaves her whole head.

All was not well.

Neville retreats into his shell of plants and disappears into greenhouse three to his venomous tentacula when he feels panicked.

He has to create a rigid schedule for himself, a response to the undiscernible chaos of his school years. 

All was not well.

Luna starts seeing her mother again in her dreams, her screams as she died mirroring the ones of the students that screamed out for help while they were still in school.

All was not well.

Dean and Seamus rent an apartment together and open a pub because if they aren’t always in each others line of sight, panic shoots through their hearts. Seamus throws all his energy into cooking and Dean controls most of the serving and financial aspects of the place.

All was not well.

Molly Weasley still glances at her family clock in fear, though now a few more names have been added to it, waiting for the hands of Harry, Ron, and Hermione to switch back to “Mortal Peril” like they did so often while the three were horcrux hunting.

All was not well.

Arthur Weasley clings to his muggle objects like a shield and eventually develops a light hoarding problem. Molly and the children have to force him to go through each item. Harry and Hermione sit down with him and explain the purpose of each object until he’s ready to let a lot of it go. 

All was not well.

Minerva McGonagall still is on the lookout for kids that look like they come from dangerous homes. Kids that need her help. She worries after 7 years of chaos when the other shoe will drop, and waits with baited breath for news to come through that another catastrophic event will occur within the walls of Hogwarts, walls which were supposed to keep students safe. 

All was not well.

Draco Malfoy spends hours in the shower scrubbing at his scar, trying to make it disappear, he cuts into it at some point with a knife and his mother gently forces him to enter himself into a temporary psych ward after she finds him bloodied and passed out on his bathroom floor.

All was not well. All was never well. 

[sk1fanfiction]

Hello! I saw that you reblogged the "I wish you would write a fic where..." post, and I have two ideas for the Running From My Destiny verse that might make neat scenes. The first I can't really make a summary for since it's such a general idea, but I'd really like to see a Quirrellmort POV. For the second one:

Malfada Prewett meets the Weasleys. This... does not go as well as her parents thought it would, even if they didn't have particularly high hopes.

OR

Malfada absolutely does not get along with her cousins; she loves them anyways, though.

I hope the prompt(s) is(are?) fun! It's cool that you're doing this; it seems like it'd be an interesting experience. Have a nice night! :)

Thanks so much for the prompts! They were both very cool ideas! Hope you have a nice morning/afternoon/night as well!

ᑫᑌIᖇᖇEᒪᒪᗰOᖇT/TᑌᖇᑎIᑎG TO ᗩᔕᕼEᔕ

(spark)

Quirinus Quirrell surveyed his classroom, then glanced down at his attendance sheet, running a shaking finger down his list of names.

“P-Parkinson, P-Pansy?”

“Here, Professor.”

“P-Patil, P-P-Parvati?”

He’d always been ashamed of his stutter. There wasn’t a time he remembered not feeling afraid of his own voice. He expected peers, now students, to laugh at him and make him feel smaller and smaller, until he was annhilated.

“Here, sir.”

He pushed his reading glasses up his nose and focused on the next name.

His heartbeat stuttered in his ears. Something seemed to click. To focus. And when he spoke, his voice was as composed and steady as he’d always dreamed.

“Potter, Harry.”

“Present, sir.”

He could not help but look up at the speaker. But it wasn’t as if he was one looking. Rather, someone or something else had nudged their way to the front of his brain, gazing at the small first-year in the second row, scrawny, bespectacled and overall unremarkable, except for the round-rimmed glasses and bright green eyes that seemed to stir some distant memory, as if he had seen them both on another person.

Dead. And yet he felt more alive than ever.

He shuddered, and moved on, taking note of the remaining few Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

(ember)

It had been mere days since Quirinus had returned to the school; mere weeks since Voldemort’s disembodied spirit promised him everything he’d ever dreamed of.

No longer would he be the bullied, cowed Professor of Muggle Studies.

No longer would he be an afterthought.

There is no good and evil, only power, he reminded himself. Whether he vanquished Voldemort or brought him back to life, he would be great. And that was all that mattered.

And so, he had found himself standing in front of the Mirror of Erised, performing spells that he did not understand (but the other, strange new part of him did) and renewing the runes drawn around an ancient bloodstain.

But now, he was sitting in his office. And that green-eyed, unremarkable boy was sitting across from him (though the part of him that was Voldemort whispered, Quirinus, he is the one).

“Do you think I should be worried at all about the shadows?"

Harry Potter’s voice seemed to be coming through several miles of water. For his part, Quirinus felt frozen, and yet, more clever and powerful and strong than he ever had. His limbs had new life, every square centimetre of his being thrummed with magic, and he felt a strange, vast understanding of everything around him; even the boy’s mind.

"You were right to come to me, Harry Potter.” And there came the new, clear voice again, but it faded quickly. “If you are at all interested in learning to... control... to develop... your power, I may just be able to point you in the right d-d-direction."

(flame)

Halfway through the Quidditch match, something strange had come over Quirinus. That same terrible focus and perhaps not-so-mysterious power.

And every nerve in his body sang with the same fierce joy: Kill him, kill him, kill him! They’ll never trace it to you! Dumbledore is not here to see! KILL HIM!

Quirinus had not taken even a single year of Ancient Runes while he was at Hogwarts, and his affinity for the Dark Arts had always been weak. But now, he sat quite calmly in the professors’ box, muttering an Ogham chant and tainting the air with foul magic.

He saw what the others could not; Harry Potter was being consumed by his own shadows. The boy reached for his broom, hanging on with the last of his material form. His eyes were glassy and empty, and everything in Quirinus sung with the triumphant knowledge that his strange enemy was close to death. The Reaper was coming.

The two Weasley boys circled around him, trying to save him (foolish children, none can save him from Lord Death himself!).

It was the girl that snapped him out of his focus; she threw herself into the box like a wildcat let loose and despite the protests of the professors around him.

But it mattered not. Her precious brother was fast losing his grip, and soon the great Boy-Who-Lived would be nothing but a stain on the grass below; a tragic accident—

“INCENDIO!I”

The box crackled with flame, and the thing inside Quirinus howled in anger; yes, she should not know that, but fire would save the boy, sap the shadows.

Even as Snape shouted at her, it was her victory, not his, because Harry Potter had pulled himself back on the broom to safety.

How hard is it to kill an eleven-year-old child already cursed by a parasitic monster? You are just as much of a failure as they say you are!

And yet, thought Quirinus, he did not know if it was the thing, or himself howling in fury at his inability to kill the boy.

(ashes)

He did not like her. He did not like either of the Potter children at all.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter sometimes, when he delved into his mind and forced the Obscurus to manifest, savoured his terror and the fear-filled memories of his Muggle relatives. When he entertained the idea of using him as a weapon against Dumbledore, now that he had shielded the boy from Legilimency from anyone but him and instilled within him a fear of his Headmaster.

Perhaps he liked Harry Potter when the Dark magic had burned out, and he lay helpless on the floor of Quirrell’s office.

Quirinus found that he liked to toy with the child; make him feel as helpless and utterly annihilated as he once had felt.

After all, he would one day kill Harry Potter. He would make the life bleed out of those green eyes and watch them go still and glassy (like his mother’s, he remembered now), someday soon.

Even as he Obliviated the second child who dared to intercept his search for the Stone, Quirinus knew the end was dawning.

With shaking hands, he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled death. The weak, prim Quirinus who would have balked at the very idea of polluting his body with such a thing was no longer important to him. After all, what was nicotine and tar and his disgust at the idea of a smoking habit when the spirit of the Dark Lord lived within him?

No. He had been chosen for greater things.

Tonight was the night the end begun.

Quirinus signed the bottom of his letter of resignation, put out the cigarette, and placed in it his brand-new ashtray.

And yet, he cried.

“I have given you my all, My Lord,” he said, and his voice, his own voice was steady. “And now I am nothing.”

𝙼𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚊 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚝𝚝/𝚃𝚘 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝚄𝚙 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚆𝚊𝚕𝚕

August, 1986

“Just give it a chance, will you?” asked her dad, taking her luggage out the boot. “You won’t know you hate it until you try it.”

Everyone seemed to be giving her the same stupid advice today. When they stopped to get petrol during the drive from London, some weirdo in the petrol station had told her “Cheer up love, it might not happen!” She had responded by sticking her tongue out at them.

Mafalda frowned, crossed her arms, and leaned against the car.

“I don’t see why I can’t go to Roedean.”

“Well, you’re a witch, Mafalda.” He wiped his forehead and frowned. “Bloody hot, isn’t it?”

Witch. She hated the word already. Yeah, some of the girls at school were into Ouija boards and palm-reading and whatnot, but Mafalda didn’t go in for all of that nonsense.

The kind of nonsense that got Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon killed.

“And what do they call you and Mum again?”

Her dad sighed. “Squibs.”

“Yes, Dad! It’s not very nice, is it?”

She glared at the house as if it had personally offended her. It was tall, maybe four or five stories and so crooked that there was no way it hadn’t fallen down by now. A couple of brown chickens hobbled around the yard.

And in here lived the people who had sent her father off to Muggle boarding school, as far away from them as they could possibly manage, as soon as they could.

As her dad strode towards the door, Mafalda followed, kicking a rusty cauldron as she went by.

Before Mafalda could make her great escape, her dad knocked on the door and a plump, short, red-headed someone opened it almost immediately.

“Alfred?” she asked in a squeaky, shocked voice. Then, she glanced furtively behind her as if to check that no one was listening. “Alfred, what are you doing here?”

Her dad frowned, fanned himself with the collar of his shirt, and beckoned her closer so that the rude woman could look her up and down.

“Come on, Mals,” he whispered. “In for a penny, in for a pound, eh?”

Yeah, her hair probably looked a mess and the dress Mum had forced her to wear was all creased, but Mafalda didn’t think she would look particularly nice if she’d just spent three and a half hours in a stinky, sweaty car.

“Well,” said her dad, “this is your niece, Molly, and she’s a witch just like you. Got her Hogwarts letter last week and everything; Professor McGonagall said we should come over and see you. Of course, her mum and I know next to nothing about the wizarding world and Mals just barely remembers your brothers—“

Mafalda couldn’t help herself.

“You’re my aunt? Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon’s sister? Why’d you never come to see me?”

The woman — Aunt Molly — went red in the face.

“Come in, Mafalda,” she said tiredly. And at her father’s hard look, she added: “Come on then. Both of you. In.”

Once they were inside the cramped, cluttered kitchen, she was introduced to her cousins. Mafalda kind of tuned out for most of it because most of them were younger than her, bloody annoyingly loud, and she wasn’t the World’s Biggest Fan of small children, but she did pay attention to Charlie (thirteen and Gryffindor Seeker) and Bill (fifteen and a Prefect of Gryffindor House). The youngest boy was crying his eyes out because someone turned his teddy bear into a giant spider, but Aunt Molly didn’t seem to care. A ugly-looking sweater was knitting itself on the sofa.

While she obviously knew what a Prefect was, Mafalda had no idea what a Seeker was or why everyone was making such a big deal over Gryffindor or more to the point what Gryffindor even was!

“Who’s that, Mummy?” asked the youngest, a little girl with hair the same violent red as Mafalda’s.

“Your cousin, dear,” said Aunt Molly tiredly. “She’s just come to meet us, her father’s a Squib you see—“

The little girl screwed her face up.

“I don’t wanna Squib cousin!” she yelled.

Despite herself, Mafalda flinched, and her dad did, too.

“Don’t worry, dear. She’s a witch, just like you.”

As if that made it any better.

“I don’t wanna,” the girl repeated, glowering at Mafalda.

“Look,” said Mafalda harshly. “We’ll just leave, get our Squib selves out of your way and on the three-and-a-half-hour drive back to London. Thanks for nothing.”

“You didn’t call, Alfred,” said Aunt Molly.

Her dad pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated.

“There’s no way to contact you, Molly. No phone, and you don’t get our kind of mail. Where am I going to get my hands on a trained owl?”

“She can sleep with Ginny,” said Aunt Molly, nodding towards the little girl.

Mafalda gave Bill, who seemed like the most sensible one of the bunch, a look that clearly said, I am not going to bloody sleep with that demon and that’s final.

“I can sleep with Charlie, Mum, and Mafalda can have my bed.”

Aunt Molly beamed. “What an angel,” she said. And to Mafalda. “Come, dear, let me take your trunk. We’ll all go shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow, doesn’t that sound nice? Alfred, you wouldn’t mind—”

“—Not letting the world know you have a secret Squib cousin, you have nothing to fear, I’m well practiced, Molly.”

Charlie stood up. “Can I show her around the house, Mum?”

The youngest boy looked up, too.

“And can I have a piggy-back ride from her?”

“You’re too old, Ron!” said the snootiest-looking boy, who was sitting in the middle and had the least amount of dirt in his face.

“I’m not too old!” shrieked Ginny, waving her freckled arms. “I’m only five years old, Mum! I want a piggyback-ride!”

“When your dad gets home from work,” said Aunt Molly.

“You’ll get used to us,” Bill whispered.

I don’t have to like you, thought Mafalda.

“So are you coming?” asked Charlie. “We’ve got to de-gnome the garden. You should come too, Uncle Alfred.”

Dad said he’d come with them, but would rather watch. De-gnoming apparently seemed to involve spinning the tiny, screaming, spiteful little (animals? creatures?) until they shrieked with giddiness, then tossing them as far as you possibly could, which Mafalda was very good at, and Bill and Charlie were all too happy to cheer her on, even convincing her dad to join in, too.

"Don't mind Ginny," said Bill as he flung a particularly angry gnome over the hedge. "She doesn't know anything about anything. And it was wrong of Mum to push you away, but I hope we can be friends still, and that you'll come to Hogwarts with us."

Mafalda, despite herself, thought that was an entirely reasonable proposal.

Maybe she wasn’t going to hate the wizarding world.

It turned out that unfortunately for the sake of her sanity, Charlie loved to talk while he was working.

“Have you heard about Quidditch, Mafalda — oh, good one, Uncle Alfred! That must have gone like twenty yards! Did you know the Antipodean Opaleye has no pupils? What House are you going to be in?”

And yet, she found herself (ew) getting a bit fond of them already.

[writings-of-dumpy]

George Weasley AU: Moody’s Goddaughter

Summary: Y/N is Alastor Moody’s goddaughter. Takes place during the Battle of the Seven Potters

Warnings: Blood and death

“I do not like this. You should be at home with Ginny, Y/N,” George commented as they all stepped into the Dursley's former home.

“It will be fine, George. Don't worry,” Y/N assured him. George grumbled to himself about her not being sure of that and vaguely threatening Kingsley Shacklebolt if anything happens.

“Weasley,” Moody said and made eye contact with George, then gestured for George to come by him.

“How can I help you?” George said with a smile.

“I have a suspicion that I'm not going to be at the burrow tonight. I'm usually right about these things, so I want you to look after Y/N, okay?” he said in a hushed tone. George furrowed his brow in confusion. Moody continued, “You are only to speak of this to her if I don't come back. I don't have the heart to say my goodbyes, so... I'm trusting you with this, Weasley. She's my daughter first, remember. Look I know whatever feelings you both have for each other haven't been outed to either of you yet, but even if I didn't have a special eye, I can see that you care a great deal about her, and she cares the same for you, so you'd better not break her heart or I swear if I die tonight I will be your personal poltergeist.” George's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard, then nodded and took the piece of paper Moody handed him and stuffed it in a zippered pocket.

“Erm, yeah... I do care about her,” George said for the first time aloud.

“Atta boy,” Moody said with a smile and hobbled back to the front of the room.

George took his place next to Fred and gave Y/N a worried look as he drank down the Polyjuice potion after a small argument from Harry. She looked worried, too, but George knew she was worried for him because he would be the primary bait. If there were any Death Eaters waiting for them, which George assumed there would be, he'd be the one they're throwing curses at. He hated the idea of not being near her, but she was a floater for backup, so she would be all over the place but primarily with Kingsley and Hermione.

“Wow, we're identical,” Fred and George said as they looked at each other, which made Y/N laugh. After Harry had finished changing his clothes, Moody demanded everyone head straight to the Weasley's.

“Shacklebolt, be careful with my goddaughter,” Moody said after patting Y/N on the shoulder affectionately. Y/N turned and hugged him properly, which Moody feigned being irritated with, but hugged her back just the same.

“Love you,” Y/N said to her godfather.

“Love you,” he responded. George had never seen anyone earn such terms of endearment from Moody, and up until he found out about Y/N being his goddaughter, he assumed that Moody (despite the name) had no feelings. No one dared comment on the interaction because Moody would kill them before any Death Eater could. George smiled at Y/N as she mounted her broom beside the Thestral that Hermione and Kingsley were on.

They only had an hour before the potion wore off, so Harry and Hagrid sped off. George watched Y/N and Kingsley fly off followed closely by Moody and Mundungus, then he and Lupin sped into the night on their broomstick.

“Kind of romantic when you think about it. Hopefully it's not a full moon, though,” George mused and Lupin rolled his eyes.

“It would only be romantic if you were my wife,” Lupin played along.

“Well with polyjuice potion, I can be anyone you want me to be, Remus,” George said and rested his head with a dramatic sigh on Lupin's back.

“I swear to Merlin...” Lupin scoffed. George looked around and saw that the group had started to spread out, but in an instant, curses were flying everywhere. George did his best to combat them as best he could using Harry's style to confuse the Death Eaters, but he couldn't help but use a few of his own tricky spells. He saw various masks and couldn't recognize any of them. All he knew was that he was not about to die tonight. He and Lupin fought off Death Eater after Death Eater and George saw a curse fly past him, nearly hitting his left ear clean off. He looked at the Death Eater who had cast it and the only recognizable feature was a head of greasy black hair. George regretted that bludger in third year not being fast enough and sent a body bind hex directly at Snape's chest. He managed to block several more hexes before the hoard of black smoke clouded his vision.

“There's too many of them!” George yelled.

“Someone told them! I'm going to apparate, hold on tight and don't get splinched!” Lupin hollered through the wind and curses. George gripped onto Lupin tightly and after a long whooshing sound, they landed on solid ground. Lupin looked at George and they laughed in relief that hey had made it unscathed apart from a few scratches from the debris in the air. George felt himself growing back into his own body and was amazed that the whole ordeal had been an hour long. He looked around and saw that only Hagrid and Harry had arrived and his gut sank. He had sworn that Kingsley and Hermione had flown first with Y/N in tow.

George walked with Lupin into the house and saw his mother and sister with Harry across from them. Molly rushed and held George close.

“My boy... I'm so glad you're safe,” Molly said and held his face with a smile.

George quickly hugged his sister and she looked relieved to see him. Suddenly, Lupin had Harry pinned to the wall, wand pointed at his throat.

“What creature was in my office the first time I met Harry Potter?” Lupin asked out of breath.

“Are you mad?!” Harry protested.

“Answer the question!” Lupin demanded.

“Uh—uh Grindelow!” Harry stammered.

Satisfied, Lupin lowered his wand and let go of Harry, who was giving his former teacher a disgruntled look.

“What if I didn't remember?” Harry spat.

Lupin shrugged. “I probably would have tied you up and waited for everyone to be accounted for. We've been betrayed. They knew we were moving you tonight... I had to be sure,” Lupin said.

“Fred!” George smiled and hugged his twin and then his father as they entered the house.

“Any sign of her?” George asked. Fred shook his head. The knot in George's stomach tightened and he took a deep breath.

There was a loud pop and Lupin ran outside to see who had arrived. George followed close behind and saw Ron taking what looked like a body from Kingsley, who had just arrived next to Ron and Tonks.

“She's lost a lot of blood, I don't know that curse,” Kingsley told him and Ron rushed inside. As he passed, George's worst fears were realized. Y/N was in Ron's arms, looking pale and hemorrhaging blood. He rushed to her side when Ron set her down on the couch and held her face in his hands.

“Y/N, Y/N! Hey, come on, look at me,” George pleaded. “Dittany! Someone get Dittany!”

Fred rushed over and helped George put pressure on the wounds, but they didn't have enough hands. Ron helped too, but it was only doing so much. George's hand rested on her cheek and with shaky fingers he felt for a pulse on her neck. He felt one, but it was weak.

Hermione fished through her bag and grabbed the bottle of Dittany and started sprinkling it on the wounds with little effect. She handed the bottle to Harry and ran to the kitchen.

“I know that curse... That's Snape's curse, it's Sectumsempra...” Harry said from the corner.

“What's the counter?” Fred asked. George was speechless and he felt like time was slowing down. He looked at the lack of color in her face and prayed to whatever entity he could that he didn't stop feeling her heartbeat.  If it was Snape's curse, that means that this was meant for him, but he moved.

“It's a song... It's Vulnera Sanentur! Three times, that's what got Malfoy to stop bleeding!” Harry said and whipped out his wand. Hermione came back with bandage material just in case.

“No, Harry, they could be watching your wand!” Lupin said.

“Vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur, vulnera sanentur,” George enchanted after he reluctantly let go of one of her hemorrhaging wounds to pull out his wand. George checked under her shirt and saw that her wounds had disappeared and some color had returned to her face. She was still unconscious, but George would rather she rest than be bleeding out in front of him.

“Thank you, Harry...” George said and sat on the couch with Y/N's head in his lap. He held her face and continued to watch her breathe and felt for a pulse obsessively.

“Mad-Eye's dead...” Bill announced when he and Fleur came into the house. George's heart sank as he remembered what Moody had said to him earlier. George swallowed thickly and looked at Y/N, who he promised the now deceased man that he'd take care of. Bill looked at Y/N and hung his head. “I don't have the heart to tell her, mate... Mundungus disapparated the moment Voldemort showed up...”

George nodded and understood how difficult it must be for Bill to say this even now. The entire Order looked up to Moody, especially Y/N, so it left a hole in their spirits. The note that Moody had given him started to burn a hole in his pocket as he thought about giving it to her.

Fred looked at George and they shared a look of sorrow, and George nodded to signal that he would be okay telling Y/N once she woke up. Fred patted George's shoulder and the room slowly emptied. George wasn't sure how long he'd been there with her, but he was nearly asleep when he heard a soft cooing and then a groan from her lips.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, are you awake?” George asked and he knelt beside her, careful with her head when he moved.

“Mmm,” she said. “What happened?”

“You were cursed, lost a bit of blood and fell unconscious, but you're here, you're home,” George said and held her hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Light-headed,” Y/N said. George rushed to the kitchen and grabbed her some grape juice and water. He handed her the juice first after he helped her sit up enough to drink it.

“Here, drink this,” he said. Her hands were trembling, so George supported her cup as she took small sips. Once she was able to sit up completely and her hands stopped shaking so much, she turned to George.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“In bed for the most part, I think. I've been watching over you here,” George said. Y/N nodded.

“Thank you,” she said. She took another sip of her drink and went to stand up. “I should go see Alastor.”

George's heart clenched and he gripped her hand. “Y/N... there's something I need to tell you...”

Y/N looked at him and her face fell slightly and her brows knitted together. “What happened?”

George shook his head. “He didn't make it. Bill said when Voldemort appeared, Mundungus ran... Y/N I'm so sorry...”

Y/N nodded and hung her head. “He knew didn't he. He always knew it would be the end from the second he started planning it...”

“I think so,” George agreed and remembered their conversation, then fished the letter out from his pocket.

“I saw you talking to him before we left... What did he say?” Y/N asked with watery eyes.

“He wanted me to give this to you in case this happened. He said you're his daughter first and... well, I'll let you read it,” George said and handed her the note. He watched as she opened the parchment and read the letter. Her eyes welled up with tears and he watched a few fall as she finished the letter and folded it back up. George found his own eyes getting misty as he watched her. He couldn't bear to see her hurt and he knew that she was. Of everyone, Moody's death hurt her the worst and it killed George to see her this way.

“Thank you for giving me this... He clearly trusted you,” Y/N said and looked at George through glassy eyes.

George nodded and smiled at her. Y/N turned her head and started to cry silently. George couldn't help himself, he wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into him. He let her cry and stroked her hair as she shook with each sob. George's heart hurt for her and he tried to comfort her by stroking her hair and planting small kisses to her head. After several minutes, Y/N wiped her eyes and blew her nose on the tissue next to her. She then looked at George.

“We should probably go to sleep,” she said. George nodded.

“I can stay with you in you want, love. There's plenty of room on my bed,” George offered. Y/N nodded.

“I'm covered in blood,” she noticed. George helped her to the bathroom and waited outside the door for her as she cleaned herself and put on a spare shirt that George had. After she was clean, she walked out of the bathroom and George welcomed her into his arms for a moment before leading her to his and Fred's bedroom. He quietly opened the door and noticed that Fred had his bedside light still on. George did his best to close the door quietly, but Fred awoke anyway.

“Y/N, you're okay...” he said and stood up in a sleepy haze to hug her. He draped his body over hers and enveloped her into him. George felt a small pang of jealousy that Fred was holding her, but knew that he also cared about Y/N, just not quite as intensely as George did.

“Yeah, I'm okay, Freddie. Go back to sleep,” she said. Fred put his hands on her face.

“Don't scare Georgie like that again. And I'm so sorry about Moody,” Fred added and then trudged back to bed. Within a few moments he was fast asleep. George climbed into bed and made room for Y/N. She slid in next to him and he tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her. They had only shared a bed like this once before when they were kids, and now that George felt significantly for her, he didn't want to push it, especially given how vulnerable she was.

Y/N curled into the blankets and bid George a good night. George tucked himself in and he found that the exhaustion he felt earlier had completely disappeared. After a few moments, he rolled over and faced Y/N, whose eyes were closed, but her body was shivering. He couldn't tell if she was cold or if she was crying, but either way, he acted on instinct and pulled her to the middle of the bed and wrapped himself around her. She molded against him and he felt himself instantly calm when she stopped shivering. Soon enough, he felt her breathing even out and she was fast asleep.

The following morning, George awoke to the sound of Fred stirring and getting up. It was the day of Bill's wedding and they all had a job to do.

“George... Georgie,” Fred whispered and tapped his twin's head.

George opened his eyes and looked at his twin. He felt Y/N move next to him and she looked up at Fred as well.

“Sorry, love, I didn't mean to wake you,” Fred apologized.

“It's okay, I need to get up anyway...” she said to him.

George nodded and the two of them reluctantly got out of bed. He and Fred got dressed when Y/N went to the bathroom to change into her dress for the day, and when she walked out, she looked slightly frustrated.

“Will one of you zip me up please? I'm incredibly sore and can't reach,” she said and turned around. George walked over to her and felt butterflies in his stomach as he zipped up her beautiful dress. She smiled when she turned around and then got to work on tying George's necktie.

“Sweetheart, I can—” George began, but Y/N shook her head.

“You zip me up, I tie your tie,” she said with a smile and tightened the knot so that it sat at his collar. He watched her face and smiled at how delicately she worked. “I like this color on you.”

“You look beautiful,” George complimented, which sent Y/N's face pink.

“Thank you. You two don't clean up too bad yourselves,” she said and looked between Fred and George.

“How are you feeling?” Fred asked as George gently held Y/N's elbow in his hand. He slid his fingers along the outside of her forearm and then held her hand with his.

Y/N accepted his hold and looked at Fred. “I'm okay I think... Just sore, and... well, Alastor...”

George's brows furrowed in concern and he gently reached up and rubbed her cheek with his thumb. The gesture was simple, but Y/N leaned into it with closed eyes.

~*~

The celebration was well underway and it seemed as though most had forgotten the events of the night prior, which George found to be something good for everyone. George's head was spinning with the words Moody had told him last night, though. Every time he looked at Y/N, Moody's voice rang out in his brain.

“Would you like to go on a walk with me?” George asked with a smile. Y/N nodded.

“It's a little warm in there,” she said once they had exited the tent. George nodded and offered his hand to her. She smiled and took his hand in hers.

“You really do look beautiful tonight. I mean, you always look beautiful, but you never wear dresses really, so I just thought I'd mention it...” George rattled off.

Y/N smiled and giggled slightly as they walked along the garden path. “Thank you. You know, you're very handsome.”

George blushed and bit his lip. He looked at her moonlit face and wondered if there would ever be a better time than now. He took a deep breath and stopped walking, which caused Y/N to look at him in confusion.

“Are you okay?” she asked and faced him with their hands still joined.

George nodded. “Just thinking... Moody said something yesterday that's not left my head. When we were talking, he said that he wanted me to look after you if anything were to happen to him... because he knew that I love you, I think. And he said that... maybe you felt the same.”

George bit his lip and looked at her. He had hoped that he didn't strike a nerve for her, but he wanted to be truthful about his feelings and her godfather's last wishes. Y/N's lips turned upward and she shook her head with closed eyes.

“Of course I do, George,” she said and her eyes shone with tears in them. In the moonlight, George's heart soared and they closed their distance with a passionate and powerful kiss. George wiped away the few tears that fell from her eyes as they moved their lips together and held each other close. When they broke away, George was awestruck and completely spaced out with his head still in their kiss. They spent a few more minutes with each other then decided to walk back to the tent hand in hand, and George couldn't be happier to know that she was his, and he knew Moody would be happy for them both. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shadow of the man, but when he looked, it was only a tree. With a deep sigh, George spoke to the soul that was no longer with them.

“Don't worry, I'll take care of her like I promised.”

[anna-justice]

Mine - Brettsey

Summary: After a tough call, Sylvie has a bit too much to drink at Molly’s, causing her jealousy to get the best of her. 

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore/death….

Requested: Yes! #71, “Get away from him/her.”

…

Sylvie Brett was normally a very put together, happy person. However tonight was a different story. Everything hurt, literally everything. She was in so much pain that her usually joyful heart couldn’t take it. 

She missed her partner, Emily had only been gone a few weeks but it felt like an eternity. There was only so much of Chout that she could take. Not only that, but the apartment felt empty, similar to the way it felt after Otis died. Cruz had moved in with Chloe (duh they were married) and Emily was moving closer to her school. So, once again Sylvie was on the search for a roommate. 

As much mental pain and stress that caused her, at the moment it couldn’t compare to the physical pain she was feeling. 

Shift had been one of the craziest ones in a while, ambo went on call after call and everytime they got back it seemed like Squad or Truck needed something. She was exhausted and sore, but a crowded bar seemed like more fun than her quiet apartment. 

The last call had really shaken her, it was a full house effort. A multi car pile up on the highway and of course (because recently the universe was out to get her) there was a child trapped in the back seat of one of the cars. The scene was hectic, there were so many victims, but Sylvie’s focus was entirely on the girl. They had gotten her mother out, but Sylvie couldn’t reach her due to the car being completely totaled, she was unconscious and bleeding from her head. Sylvie climbed in and almost had her hand when there was a loud shout and she was yanked from the car. 

Before she could even realize what was happening she felt the heat on her feet and a pressure on her chest. She rolled over to face the large figure on top of her. Matt.

Matt. The third reason she was drinking. 

She cried as she watched the car go up in flames, the little girl still trapped in the back. Matt held her to him as they put out the fire, not letting her see what was left behind when it was calmed. He got her back to the rig and told her to take Chout’s patient to the hospital and then he was taking Ambulance 61 out of service for the rest of shift. 

Sylvie was so distraught she didn’t even argue with him, she just climbed into the front seat of the rig and let Chout drive them to MED. 

The whole ride, and the whole rest of shift really, Sylvie couldn’t get Matt off her mind. He was perfect and even if he wasn’t, he was perfect for her. They had been dancing around whatever they felt for each other for too long and she was ready to do something about it. Watching someone die really puts things in perspective. 

That was why she was mad as she downed the rest of her...well she lost count...beer. It was the most pain she had felt that day, watching Matt laugh at whatever some brunette in really tall heels was saying. 

It is really important to note that Sylvie was way past tispy, she was past crying, she was past being a giggling mess. She was so gone that it didn’t even burn anymore. Normal Sylvie was nowhere to be found. 

She slammed her bottle down on her table, ignoring Gallo’s shocked look from across the table. She jumped out of her seat and walked towards the bar, well, it looked more like a stumble. Stella saw her coming and smirked, grabbing a beer for herself to watch the show. 

“Get away from him.” She said to the brunette, glaring. 

The woman turned around, looking Sylvie up and down. “Excuse me?”

“Get away from him.” Matt watching Sylvie cautiously, he had no idea who the girl standing in front of him was, but would admit that jealous Sylvie was kind of turning him on. 

He was grinning when the woman he was taking to (whose name he forgot) turned to him, “Is this your girlfriend?” She asked.

Before Matt could respond Sylvie beat him to it. “No. I am not.” She said, matter-of-factly. The woman scoffed, but made no move to walk away, so Sylvie continued. “But he is my will they, won’t they. He is my ex-best friend’s ex-husband, he is the source of my emotional instability. So, you can get the hell away from him.”

Matt fought the urge to laugh as Sylvie stood there staring her down, she was completely confident and it was hot. The woman was starting to talk again, but Matt cut her off. “I think you should go.” He said kindly, jumping up and wrapping his arm around Sylvie’s waist because she looked like she was ready to pounce. “It was nice to meet you.”

The woman rolled her eyes and stormed out, leaving Matt and Sylvie alone at the bar. Matt’s eyes met Stella’s, who was laughing her ass off. Matt chuckled, turning back to Sylvie who had finally calmed down and was leaning into his side. “Let’s get you home.” He said, guiding her to the door and grabbing her bag on the way. 

After getting Sylvie into his truck and making sure she was safely buckled, Matt jumped in the driver's seat. Sylvie was staring at him unapologetically and Matt found himself wishing she was this forward with him sober. “Will they-won’t they huh?” Matt joked.

Sylvie houghed, leaning against the seat. “Am I wrong?” 

“Yes.” Matt said and Sylvie wished she could jump out of the truck. “There is no ‘won’t’ Sylvie.”

Sylvie grinned, feeling a massive weight lifted off her chest, she leaned against the center console, letting her eyes trace  his handsome face. “You have to promise me that you will tell me that tomorrow.” 

“I promise.” He said, placing a hand over hers, “I want you to remember this moment, I want to make you mine.” Sylvie smiled and laid her head against Matt’s shoulder, letting a content sleep consume her.

[spoiler1001]

"Are you and Lucien going to be a thing, now?" Fjord asked Caleb. Caleb looked at him.

"No. It was just- an agreement has passed and I learned who we are dealing with." Caleb straightened out his coat. "This is the same person that showed up in a tapestry and said, 'I am your god; long may I reign.'" Caleb smiled.

"I can see it." Fjord nodded. "Still, be careful. He could be dangerous."

"He is." Caleb sat in the library. "He's just like me when I killed my mother and father."

"That's not comforting." Fjord shook his head.

"He's being played with and when he's done being useful, he'll be thrown away." Caleb looked away. "We're at the moment at the end of his usefulness. He'll need us."

"You said he's being manipulated?"

"Cree is hiding something from him. Probably the essence of Molly." Caleb looked at the stained glass. "Maybe when he woke up, Molly's influence probably lead him away from her goal. There is something I noticed. When we met Cree, she apologized for not calling him the nonagon, but we were offered one of his given names."

"What are you suggesting?" Fjord asked quietly.

"Maybe he knows that we're not strangers." Caleb shrugged.

"You two are certainly rather close," Fjord mumbled.

"You've said your piece." Caleb sighed. "I know what I'm doing."

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

Caleb was thankful for Lucien's parting gift. The wind was still cold, but it wasn't icy and burning. He swallowed his smile and thanked Lucien in his heart. The tiefling had scouted ahead before coming back to move as a group. They traveled with them into the ruins. Lucien kept his eyes on the Nein. Caleb's frowned. Something was off.

He could feel Lucien by him, his heartbeat, his injuries, his emotions. Maybe it was because he was so close, maybe it was because Lucien's magic was more than he could handle. Caleb felt his panic rise. Was he going to lose himself, Was all of the positive change that he made with the Nein going to be gone?

"Maybe we should have set up camp for the night?" Lucien asked. Caleb almost flinched. Was Lucien telling him what to do?

"Caleb, can we set up the tower?" Beau asked. Ok. He could. Focusing on the tower grounded himself, calming him. He immediately shot himself up to the room above the eighth floor. Frumpkin appeared, nuzzling his face. He could feel Lucien's concern growing, but the heartbeat and other things were getting numb. It was overwhelming. The entrance to the room opened and Lucien climbed back up.

"What's the matter?" He kept his distance.

"I felt your magic running through me out there. How do I know it won't overtake me?" Caleb almost yelled. Lucien was quiet for a heartbeat.

"Oh. I'm sorry I- my magic was protecting you. My blood was protecting you, so you felt a connection the more the protection was tested. I'm sorry. It won't overtake you. I should have warned you. I'm sorry." Lucien took a step towards him. "I promise, you are still you, firefly. I would never do something that would overstep like that."

Caleb looked at him, feeling the sincerity behind the words. "I have had control taken from me and the people I cared about suffered," Caleb said plainly.

"I gathered when you started to panic. I will take the blessing off if you want. I literally cannot just let my magic affect my allies and friends without explicit consent. The spell doesn't work. It fails. I enhance and strengthen with my blessings. Will you be alright?" Lucien hugged Caleb. Caleb leaned into the touch and nodded.

"I was not prepared for how that would feel." Caleb burrowed his head under Lucien's jaw.

"Do you want me to drop it?" Lucien asked. Caleb shook his head.

"It was effective. I will be prepared for the feeling now." Caleb went to stand up. "Thank you." Caleb finally smiled. "I just needed to straighten out my head."

"I will drop it as soon as soon as you give the word," Lucien said with a serious expression on his face.

"I believe you."

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

Dinner was a bit awkward but the group seemed to be at ease when Caleb appeared to be fine. He was smiling and joking with the rest of the Nein. They continued to blur the line between lunch and dinner and breakfast by having every kind of dessert and pancakes with the meal as the main course. Lucien was having fun but he was becoming more and more aware of the whole inside of him. The group should have been familiar to him and he felt like they were but the connection couldn't be made.

Going to bed was hard. He was exhausted, and Caleb made enough rooms to house the Tombtakers. Lucien got the room on the eighth floor, the room now completely decorated and fancy. The bed was comfortable. It was warm. This is what home felt like. He never wanted to leave. It was comfortable, safe. 

He felt tears build in his eyes. He was missing something, but he couldn't place it. There was a broken piece of him. He wasn't a true nonagon. He needed to see Cree.

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

"You aren't missing anything," Cree said, getting ready for bed. " you're perfect. This group is messing with your mind. We can just leave them." 

"No. We can finish what we're doing and move on." Lucien nodded. "Good night." 

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

Lucien woke up to pure panic in his throat. There was a commotion in the next room over. He was on his feet in a second. In the room stood Caleb, eyes rolled back into his head, hand around Cree's necklace there was a smell of melting glass. 

"What the hell are you doing?!" Lucien demanded. 

"We were having a conversation." Cree hissed. 

"Bullshit. CONFESS." Lucien hissed loudly enough that there were sounds outside of the rest of the Nein. The Infernal came easily to him as his connection with Cree shattered. 

"I didn't like his influence on you so I was going to have him destroy the last bit of connection to the group so we can leave," Cree started. 

Oh. The Mighty Nein walked in to see Lucien began to lift Cree off of the ground. "Get Caleb. None of you need to see this." Fjord grabbed a numb and unresponsive but breathing Caleb. The Nein, not counting Caduceus left the room. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked Lucien, who had his eyes locked on the tabaxi cleric. 

"I'm not really sure of anything anymore." Lucien shook his head. "I don't know anything anymore." 

"Take a deep breath and focus," Caduceus whispered, grabbing the heated glass from its place on Cree's necklace. She had a look of terror on her face. Caduceus looked at the orb and considered it for a second, before preparing a greater restoration spell. The spell made the glass shatter against his chest and a light flashed in the room. Cree was dropped on the ground dazed and confused. Lucien dropped to his knees as everything started to make sense. 

Frumpkin took the opportunity to attack, slashing Cree across the eye, causing it to bleed. She ran out of the room and away from Lucien, clutching her eye. 

"That's a good kitty, Frumpkin," Lucien spoke in a distant voice. "I remember everything." 

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

Caleb woke up to see Jester starting down at him. His eyes blinked into focus rather quickly and he sat up. Caduceus was supporting Lucien who was talking to Yasha, clutching her hand. Fjord was keeping his distance. Caleb groaned as he tried to stand up. "Cree?" 

"The cold will get her. She left after you were taken out." Fjord answered. "Caduceus brought Molly back." 

Caleb looked at the purple tiefling. He looked like Lucien, but the emotions running through the magic showed relief, familiarity, and safety. Caleb felt tears build in his eyes. 

"What do you remember about the Iron Shepards?" Caleb whispered. 

"Enough. I'm just happy everyone is back. You're all so different. I look forward to reacquainting myself with all of you." L-Molly grinned at all of them, ending on Caleb. 

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

"Do you still want the blessing on?" Molly asked Caleb through the wall as they went to keep on resting.

"Yes. It's very cold up north and I feel better about it now that everything is squared." Caleb answered. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. After spending so much time with the tomb takers I forgot others would know about that." Molly gently headbutted the wall. I know it's stupid, but still, I'm sorry." 

"You are forgiven. I'm sorry about Cree." Caleb whispered. 

"You warned me about her." 

"You lost-"

"Everyone important to me followed me here, everyone else dragged me here." Molly interrupted. "I wish we could have this conversation face to face." 

"Nothing is stopping you from coming over here. You're welcome to it." Caleb smiled. 

Molly couldn't get there fast enough. 

[mollymauk-teafleak]

“you have to stay awake. come on, give my hand a squeeze.” + Widomauk

So this one needs some explanation. In my modern AU, I’ve decided Caleb and Molly start their family with the help of magic and that has some unintended consequences. 

cw: trans pregnancy, blood, body/plant based horror (?)

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

Caleb had gotten into the habit of staying awake for a few more minutes after Mollymauk had drifted to sleep. He would feel his husband’s weight become that fraction heavier as the tension dissipated, as he sank into his arms and rocked against his shoulder, sleep rising up to close over his head. Caleb would settle him against the pillow, watching carefully for the slightest hitch in his breathing, easing him down though he’d have loved to hold him close all night. But he would probably end up losing his arm to blood loss somewhere around 2am.

And then he would wait, forgetting about the book on the nightstand or Frumpkin curled up at his feet or even his own tiredness at the end of a long day. He would just pause and watch Molly, seconds slipping by unnoticed into minutes, lost in the simple delight of the steady rise and fall of his chest, the face he loved so much relaxed and perfectly at peace, the one hand lying slack on his slightly rounded stomach.

Caleb would watch and think how much he adored him, how he couldn’t remember ever being so simply and uncomplicatedly happy.

So he would always turn off the light and settle down himself with a smile on his face.

Caleb hadn’t had a nightmare in some time.

Tonight he dreamed of the night they’d made them, whoever they were. Now six months ago but it was as sharp and clear as if he was back in the moment. He was sprawled over Molly, one hand gripping the headboard, the other holding the purple skinned leg thrown over his shoulder, hips lost in the regular roll and crash of it. His hair falling in his face and tickling his nose but it was the furthest thing from his mind. He was focused solely on Mollymauk, the noises he made as he pulled back and pushed in deeper, as deep as he could go, the faint magical glow from his new appendage fading and pulsing back each time he did.

It had been strange when the spell had first manifested, that itchy heat tracing down the symbols he’d painted on his body, pooling between his legs and forming itself into what was unmistakably a cock. Translucent, faintly glowing with his magical signature but still, unmistakable. The thrill that it had worked- it actually worked!- was only slightly less than the one that came with Molly’s cry of delight and the sudden, burning kiss he dragged him into that very quickly dissolved into the almost frantic, joyous fucking they were tangled in now.

Now it just felt right. His body was unsure at first but it wasn’t all that different than their usual sex, just with the mind blowing addition of actually feeling when Molly’s muscles clenched and parted around him and also the maybe not so purely academic triumph of having made a spell, a very tricky and expensive spell, from scratch and have it actually work.

Because it would work, how could there be any doubt of that? Caleb knew it wasn’t technically possible to be completely certain until they had the positive test in hand but still, he felt it in himself, in the hubris that only really surfaced when he did magic and did it well. With Molly yowling like a cat in heat under him and the magic burning through his nerves, impossible to pull apart from the pleasure of it all, how couldn’t it work?

There would be a cavernous, bone deep tired in him when he was done, Caleb felt that. He’d used so much magic, afterwards he would be burned out like a matchstick, he could already feel a nosebleed coming on and vessels bursting in his eyes with the strain as he climbed towards his release in time with Mollymauk. But it was worth it. It would be worth it.

It had to be worth it.

Caleb stirred, feeling an awkward wetness between his thighs as he rolled and shifted under the blanket. That pinned his attention for a moment, what little had surfaced from sleep, so he didn’t realise what had woken him until he heard the first wheezing, rasping cry of his name.

“Caleb…” Molly was sitting up in the dark, staring straight ahead with eyes that were blown white in fear, his voice a harsh cough, “Caleb!”

He sat up, faster than his sleep fogged brain wanted to and got a lurch of nausea for his trouble, “Molly? Is something wrong?”

His husband didn’t need to answer for the fear to pierce through Caleb and shock him unpleasantly awake. Because it was clear that something was very, very wrong.

There was a thin trail of blood running from the corner of Molly’s mouth. It dripped to the white sheets and soaked in, leaving a mark not unlike a kiss.

“It hurts,” Molly whispered, his voice muffled like something was in it’s way, thin as a whistle.

And then he coughed again, a thick and heavy sound like he was trying to bring something up, curled around his belly, shoulders heaving. More kisses fell carelessly on the sheets.

Panic a white hot iron in his throat, Caleb lurched up to hold him as he fell back, the weight of him threatening to overbalance them. He groped for a spell, any spell, but it was all fucking useless. He didn’t know how to heal or solve problems, he only knew how to make them.

Like this one a sly voice whispered in his mind and guilt twisted his insides.

They had known this was a possibility. A child made by magic would inevitably have it running through their veins and, whether they were born yet or not, it was theirs to use. Use unthinkingly and uncontrolled, no sense of the power they had or what it could do. Wild magic, in its purest and most dangerous form, in the tiny, unformed hands of someone who wasn’t even a someone yet.

And Caleb had planted it there.

Up until now it had been something to laugh about, when Molly would suddenly start belching up clouds of bubbles or his skin would turn a bright green or the memorable morning when he’d been daydreaming in Caduceus’ cafe only to bump his head on the ceiling and then realise he was levitating off the ground. It had the same softness as the first time they felt them kick or the day he woke up and realised he was showing.

And Caleb had allowed himself to forget the risks, letting his initial wariness fade into the domestic bliss he’d never thought he’d be allowed but now held in his own two hands. He forgot the golden rule he’d come to know after decades of being himself, that everything good he ever thought he’d build would end in ruin.

With Molly in his arms, wheezing and hacking, struggling to draw breath in and bringing only blood up, that hit home and all he could do was watch it happen again.

“I don’t know what they’re doing,” his voice snagged and broke, the panic taking over, “I can’t figure it out, I don’t know how to stop them…”

Molly tried to speak, lips trying to move in a reassurance because of course he would be coughing up blood and trying to tell Caleb it would be okay. And in that moment he knew he couldn’t lose him, whether life wanted to let him have this happiness or not. It would have to tear it out of his hands.

So he fought back the panic before it could seal him in and did the only thing he could think to do. He threw out his magic like a rope, desperately searching for rescue in a dark, roiling sea. And he shouted for the only person he trusted to fix this.

“Caduceus!”

And in a moment, he was there. He’d clearly been roused from sleep, purple eyes blinking in a half aware shock, the bed sinking under his sudden weight. The firbolg opened his mouth, most likely to politely wonder why he was suddenly here but then he heard the fading sound of Molly’s breathing and saw the anguish on Caleb’s face and immediately he snapped to attention.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb’s voice shook as much as his hands did, holding Molly’s limp body up, “It’s the wild magic but I don’t know what kind or how to counteract it and he’s bleeding inside and he can’t breathe and-”

Caduceus cut across him, eyes fixed on his patient as he took him from Caleb and bent, pressing his ear to his stomach, “It’s druid magic. You can smell it on his breath.”

“Smell it?” Caleb’s voice strained, not understanding.

“Greenbriers,” Caduceus said simply, “Inside him. They must have summoned them.”

“Inside him?” Caleb sobbed weakly, reeling with the horror of that idea, plants of all things encroaching through vessels and constricting muscles, thorns biting in, “Oh gods, can you fix it?”

“I can hold them off until the wild magic dissipates, draw them in to the source,” Caduceus held his palms to Molly’s skin, a faint glow emanating from them, “And I’ll heal him fast once they’re gone.”

Caleb gave a shaky moan, bending over Molly like he could protect him that way, even with the threat under his own skin, “Liebling, come on. Stay with me, we’re going to fix this, it will be okay.”

Again the lips moved, an attempt at words that came out as a whistle of constricted air, eyelids growing leaden.

“Oh Molly, no,” Caleb’s panic began to rise again, bile in his throat. You have to stay awake, come on, give my hand a squeeze. Please Molly, please.”

There were a few beats of horrible limpness but then the fingers in Caleb’s grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely. And he realised he could smell it, a kind of earthiness, like damp soil was somehow lining their bedroom instead of carpet, like the faintest hint of a damp, morning forest just outside their window instead of the sleeping city. It was eerily beautiful.

While his body spoke to his husband, begging him to stay awake, to stay with him, his mind murmured to their baby. Please, I know you don’t understand but you’re hurting him. I know it’s hard, please let go.

Please stay. Please let go.

And thankfully, they both listened. Lower down Molly’s body, Caduceus sighed in relief and pushed his magic forward. The forest smell faded and the raspiness eased, Molly’s breathing becoming stronger and more even. Caleb gave a dry sob and began mumbling ragged Zemnian, thankful prayers he hadn’t used since he was a child.

“There,” Caduceus sat back, nodding, “The magic dissipated, they’re gone now. And I healed the damage, all he needs now is some rest.”

“Thank you,” Caleb’s voice was flat, like he had no more emotion left to give, all of it burned away, “Thank you, Caduceus, without you he…”

“Best not to think on that now,” Cad advised gently, reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Both of you rest. I mean, after you send me home, if you wouldn’t mind doing that. Or I could take a cab?”

“No, no,” Caleb shook his head, “I can send you back, apologise to Fjord for me. I just…”

“Think nothing of it. I’m glad I could help. I can sense you maybe don’t want a hug right now so remind me tomorrow when I come check on him and you can have one then.”

That did make him smile, wanly but all the same, as he summoned the magic to send his friend back to his apartment, “Thanks again, Caduceus.”

He missed his steady, comforting presence almost the instant he was gone. Because with just Molly’s worn out breathing and his sickly guilt, Caleb felt so small and scared.

Just four more months. He could learn new spells, find a way to dampen the wild magic, he could be ready next time. And what could really happen in just four months? When the baby arrived, they would just batten down the hatches, hope nothing too disastrous happened before they could be taught to control it.

It would be fine. It would. They both wanted this so much, it had to be okay.

But the more Caleb told himself that, as he wrapped himself around Mollymauk for a long night of no sleep, the more it sounded like a hollow kind of hope that he didn’t deserve.

[komatsunana]

The Chronicles of Exandria: The Mighty Nein I

And so I do what I did the last 2 times for the Vox Machina Chronicles of Exandria books, which you can read [here] and [here].

These posts by no means contain all of the information in these books, but plenty of what would most interest other fans.  This is by no means a replacement for actually seeing the book.

My best guess on up to where this book spoils is episode 46.  Anyone who has not watched passed 46 can read this without spoilers outside of vague references that don’t really matter.

First and foremost, as usual, the artistry is the most important part of the book. All of the lovely fan-created art work is even more beautiful in ink than on screen. This I promise you.

As has been noted by other people who have received the book, it is written as though it was transcribed by Beau’s journals by the Cobalt Soul.  Some unnamed writer(s) from the Cobalt Reserve from Tal’Dorei have written all parts that are not excerpts from Beau’s journals.  There are edits by Zeenoth, which indicate that the book is not a final draft.  Zeenoth is not impressed by their work.

The books’ foreword is a dedication to critters.  I won’t transcribe all of it but it ends, “As always, we are richer for your company.  For truly, what good are stories unless they can be shared?”

Unlike the Vox Machina ones, which started with pages dedicated to Vox Machina and their adventures first before branching out for guest and NPCs, this one’s table of contents shows that everything is scattered.

The first section is dedicated to the Storyteller - accompanied by art of Matt as “The Storyteller.”   An excerpt follows below:

“A story walks the land through the songs and tales of those who are touched by its heart.  And then one day, long after all the players within have met the Matron, a story will be told for the very last time.  Unless, by the Grace of the Storyteller, we are let to it. [...]  Through Ioun’s blessing we make his favorite children immortal.  You hold one of them in your hands even now.  Wake it carefully.”

Thoreau contacted the Cobalt Soul immediately after Beau’s first arrest - presumably the one with Tori.  As the monks took Beau away, Thoreau referred to her as “his misfortune.”  It is also noted in the margins that Thoreau is a good friend to the Archive.

Unlike the rest of the M9 and characters, there are no excerpts about Beau herself from her journal... Because obviously she doesn’t need to take notes in herself.  However the Cobalt Soul write their own notes about her and her reputation in the Cobalt Soul and note... more than a few times that Zeenoth thinks she is aggressive, stubborn, and quick to judge and anger and as a result they can’t put a lot of stock into her notes on other people.  However, Dairon was right to put their trust in her because her insight in invaluable and is quick to call out injustice.

Beau’s note taking is exceptional - and color-coded.

Beau’s first notes about Molly is that he is “not that bright, definitely drunk, completely full of shit, and not nearly as good of a liar as he thinks he is.  His outfit is loud, far louder than the man himself.”  His coat contains iconography from at least half a dozen gods.  Beau also noted that Molly’s swords were interesting to which the footnotes immediately made note that Molly’s swords were just swords.  Beau thought, in her first impression of him, that he might be on the run from a family of Warlocks.

The librarians decided to omit all of Molly’s earlier lies that he told Beau and the group about his background, and instead only described the climbing out of the grave and only able to say “Empty” story.  He had scars and 9 red eye tattoos on him at the time.  

There are sketches of the tattoo in full, after Molly had added to it, but it’s noted by Beau that part of the tattoo is covered by Molly’s hair.  Looking at the sketch, it is implied there are more tattoos on his scalp, rather than just the length covering it.

For Molly’s story of climbing out of the grave to be true, it means that Molly relearned to speak both Common and Infernal, learned to perform his skills and duties with the Carnival, covered his eye tattoos with additional, elaborate tattoos, befriended Yasha, and discovered his innate magic ability to use his blood to infuse his weapons with magic.

Beau had made a list of every book she knew Caleb had on his person or expressed interest in.  This includes the erotic books and the 2 spellbooks. 

On the spellbooks, Beau says she isn’t sure about them. One she knows is a spellbook, but she’s not sure on the other as he never opens it.  She wonders if it is a journal of some kind.

There is a page on Beau’s notes in the first arc with the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival - notes about the victim and all her possible suspects of which it is everyone that is part of the carnival.  All of them have a strike through their name, indicating she had eliminated each of them as a suspect at one point, including Kylre.  

Among the notes she has, my favorites are that Beau thinks that everyone in the circus hates each other, never trust a clown (about Desmond), and that everyone has a title such as Molly “The Ice-Spinner” and Yasha “The Brute.”  Beau also notes Yasha as being human.

Outside of Beau’s notes, the best information to be found about Shakästa “Hush” is from an anonymous book from Deastock titled “Heroic Deeds of the Golden Grin.”  It is because of Beau’s notes that Hush is confirmed to be real, not a myth, once and for all.

Because of how cool Shakästa was with his cool bird, Beau notes “I gotta get a bird.”  So we have him to thank for Professor Thaddeus.

Unknown what deity Shakästa draws power from.

Known members of the Tombtakers:

Lucien Nonagon (Molly)

Cree: currently employed by the Gentleman.  Blood powers like Molly’s.

[A name which as been severely crossed out but looks like it says Tyffinl]:  Currently said to be in Nogvurot.

Otis and Zoran:  Still at large, whereabouts unknown

Jurrell:  Deceased

Some lady spellcaster from Rexxentrum 

The Myriad is currently gaining footholds in Tal’dorei as well.  There is also a written notation by Zeenoth to cross reference the Myriad activity with the Tombtakers, indicating that he believes that the Tombtakers and the Myriad might be connected.

Cobalt Soul theorizes that the blood Cree claims the Gentleman took from the M9 to track them might be a new form of blood-based mutagenetic tracking.

Beau’s first impression of Nott and Caleb’s relationship was that Nott heaped praise on him and that there might be some sort of blood debt or magic going on.

Beau’s early theory on Caleb was that he was hiding from a criminal employer and had done a high-level theft.  She made note to watch if he attempted to side-step certain kinds of work.

Everything about Caleb sounded like bad news to Beau, but because he stuck around to get her out of jail Beau comes to the conclusion that that’s endearing.

Beau has made an observation that Caleb was searching for some kind of information in a book, related to transmutation.  She wonders if bartering to get him into the Cobalt Soul library will get her into his good graces, though she hopes he won’t find out that the library is technically open to all if you ask nicely.

There is an entry (in Beau’s second journal, it should be noted) were several pages were ripped out about Caleb.  This indicates that Beau had written down Caleb’s backstory of killing his parents but she, Caleb, or someone else had ripped it out before it got into the hands of the Cobalt Soul.  The Cobalt Soul draws the conclusion that Caleb is connected to organized crime.  They are also unable to find anyone born with the name Caleb Widogast in the Empire and they believe it to be an alias.

There are written notations that say that at least one of the ripped out pages were recovered, in which Beau describes the night Caleb told her and Nott about killing his parents.  Both mentions of Trent Ikathon’s name were crossed out until illegible.  Beau was unconvinced that Caleb’s memories after killing his parents aren’t still jumbled (rather than missing).

Fun fact!  All of the Caleb illustrations in his art section all either have fire or Frumpkin in them.  Because when you boil down Caleb to his essentials that’s all I’m saying.

The strangest thing about the M9, as far as the Cobalt Soul is concerned,  is that they have a goblin among their party.

Beau also wonders if Nott’s relationship with Caleb isn’t also out of love or blind loyalty.  Upon finding out that Nott feels like the parental figure (rather than the other way around, as Beau had assumed) Beau wonders what it is that Nott wants Caleb to be stronger for... Revenge? Or to change herself.

Beau notes that while Nott might have named herself so to call herself not brave, Beau thinks she is pretty brave.  She describes Nott diving into the water for Fjord’s arc twice (even if she complained the entire time) and Nott saving Jester from the blue dragon which “absolutely saved Jester’s life.”  Nott is very focused on everyone remaining together as a team.  Beau believes that while Nott’s loyalty to Caleb has not lessened, her loyalty to the rest of the party has extended to them all.

“I think we might all be her kids now.  It’s kind of sweet, in a really weird way.”

Zeenoth is extremely salty their junior drew lots of buttons instead of researching the crossbow Nott got from Hupperdook.

A list of all phrases that Beau noted in her journals that Kiri had learned in her time with them.

Welcome to the Mighty Nein!

I am Kiri!

Yes, I am very sweet.

It’s sharp.

Ooh, I’m a captain.

Where do babies come from?

Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!

If it bleeds, we can kill it.

I killed people!

Get into trouble!

She’s probably a good egg.

Go fuck yourself.

Zeenoth is VERY upset about the word fuck and wants that entry removed.

Beau thinks Calianna is too polite.

Cobalt Soul believes there is at least one other bowl like the one Calianna destroyed with the M9.

Beau hopes they don’t pick up any more stragglers, as she thinks it is getting crowded.

Cobalt Soul theorizes about why Keg had a four o’clock shadow rather than a proper Dwarven beard, wondering if she wasn’t forced to shave.  This indicates that beards are normal on female dwarves.

Beau thinks Shady Creek Run is so called because it’s full of shady criminals, but the Cobalt Soul notes that Shady Creek Run has a creek that is in near constant shade in the abundant pine trees.

On Molly’s death Beau says:

“Fuck.   That went horribly.  We lost Molly, and I don’t know what to do. [This part is crossed out: Maybe if I had-] I’m trying my best to stay objective.”

Beau also crosses out “I’m starting to like her” about Keg, and replaces it with “She’s fine, I guess.”

On Nila Beau says: “She said something really nice about Molly.  How in her clan, someones spirit never leave you.  They return to nature, and are forever by your side.  I don’t know if I believe it, but I like the thought.”

Beau wants her own “lucky smell bag” that’ll make decisions for her.

The Blooming Grove was built post-Calamity.

Beau’s first impressions of Caduceus is that he is both grounded and flighty.

Because Caduceus hasn’t eaten meat or alcohol in the time she’s known him, she thinks he’s got to have some sort of vice.

Because of Beau’s talk with Caduceus after killing the blue dragon, Beau remarks that she likes her edge and doesn’t want to lose it and go soft. But maybe it is a better, more efficient way of doing things by being there for the M9. “Gross.”

There is a note in the margins telling the editor to contact Archivist Demid (AKA the guy studying the moons) for information on the Dust family.  This indicates that he may have some special information.

Because of Jester’s defacing every town she visits, the Cobalt Soul has been able to track the M9′s movements.

The Cobalt Soul’s 2 working theories on the Traveler is that he’s a smaller/younger deity either from folk tales about a cloaked figure that either rewards or punishes heroes with a ironic twist OR a god of vandalism.

Zeenoth notes that if the Traveler IS a god of vandalism... they may have a secret follower in their ranks because of all the smut doodles in their books lately. Which of course Jester probably drew.

Beau says that as Jester told the group about her prank causing her to have to flee from Nicodranas she was full of her usual bubbliness... But was starting to see that there was underlying sadness in Jester.

Beau has known Jester has had a thing for Fjord since they first met, but after she got Tusk Love it became full-blown infatuation.

“Fjord seems super oblivious, though, which isn’t surprising for a man who occasionally wakes up covered in seawater and confusion.”

Beau stands by her and Jester’s purchase of the owl and blink dog, but she wonders how long the weasel is going to last in their line of work.

Beau wonders if it’s weird to be attracted to your friend’s mom and comes to the conclusion it is so she’ll back off... But the Ruby is smoking hot.

Beau can also see why people who want to release and evil god for Avantika. Not that she would. “She’s hot, but come on.”

No really new information on The Plank King is revealed in his section, but quite a bit is crossed out until illegible.  This could detail what connection to the Cobalt Soul he has, but was redacted.

The Cobalt claims that while the M9 titled a leader, Fjord often took that position.

Beau is making direct reports on Fjord to the Cobalt Soul and his connection to Uk’otoa.  In her latest report, she says that they’ve bought some time until their next trip to the sea............

Waiting for the rest of the M9 to come out of the Happy Fun Ball, after fighting the blue dragon, are among the rest worst few minutes of Beau’s life.

Beau believed Twiggy that she killed the blue dragon, in part because Caduceus believed her.

Beau accidentally writes “cute and dry” instead of “cut and dried” about Yasha’s background.

“For someone dressed in greys, who carries herself like a dark cloud, Yasha sure seems drawn to color and light. I wonder where it stems from.”

On Yasha being tested by the Stormlord by the “man made of lightning” the Cobalt Soul says it is not uncommon for the Stormlord to test his disciples through acts of physical, mental, or spiritual exertion.

The final notes by Zeenoth indicates that whoever wrote the book (outside of edits from Zeenoth himself and excerpts from Beau’s journals) were by someone from Tal’dorei.  Who might it be? Someone we know?

[pixieposts]

Febuwhump Day 16

AO3

Today's prompt is “broken bones”

I actually wrote tomorrows piece before I wrote this one, and it led to the idea for this one so... they’re sort of companion fics I guess? Anyway, it’s soft, enjoy.

TW’s: none really

“NO!”  

He dove forward as the rocks crashed down and Beauregard threw herself at Fjord.  He felt a stab of pain as the sickening sound of breaking bone filled his ears.  Strong hands grabbed him and yanked him back as the rockslide settled, completely blocking his view of Beauregard and Fjord.  Someone was pulling him  away,  he cradled his broken arm close as he called for their missing friends.  Panic filled him as he realized he couldn’t hear them at all, he fought futilely against the person pulling him.  

“Caleb, take a breath” Yasha’s voice was calm and soft as she pulled him to sit down on the ground “let me see your arm?”  

He turned and watched her expression shift ever so slightly, she put a hand on his good arm and started to breathe slow and deep.  After a moment he found himself copying her, and his mind settled enough to register the sheer  pain  in his arm.    

“Oh Scheisse”  he looked down to see a large bruise already forming and visible through the tear in his coat.    

Yasha hummed in concern “Jester?  Caduceus?”  

The clerics walked over, Caduceus helping Caleb out of his coat so they could get a better look at his arm.  They frowned at each other and Caduceus shook his head before reaching into  Jester's  bag and pulling out a med kit.  

“I’m so so sorry Caleb, I didn’t know!  I don’t have like any magic left tonight”    

He shook his head “It’s alright Jester, those  gnolls  took more out of us than we expected”  

“I can do the sling... if you want”  

They all turned to look at Yasha, who shrugged with an  embarrassed  smile.  

“I just thought, you know, you two need sleep and...” she paused holding up her hands “I’ve done it before, we didn’t have any clerics in my tribe”  

“Oh my gosh Yasha!  That is such a good idea, that way we can get up super early and get those pesky rocks out of the way!”  

“Very kind of you Yasha”  

They all turned to look at Caleb  questioningly , and he shrugged.  He had no problem with Yasha helping, it was just a sling after all.  

“I mean, I trusted you to shave me with a sword so this should be nothing ja?”  

The clerics walked towards the fire that Veth had started, settling in for the night and Yasha dug out what she needed from the kit.  She worked in silence for a while, cleaning and wrapping the small cut the stone had made.  Caleb was vaguely aware of how gentle she was being and was struck again by how much of a surprise she had been. But his mind went back to Beauregard and Fjord.  Were they okay?  He had no idea what had happened, Beauregard had been injured before trying to shove Fjord out of harm's way, who knew what state she was in now?  They could both be hurt, bleeding out on the other side of this awful rock wall.    

Or worse, they could be in the rock wall.    

What would happen if Jester and Caduceus tried to clear it magically and one of the others was trapped?  He could only imagine that it would be something awful.  And Fjord... the look of horror on his face when he saw Beauregard dive at him would haunt Caleb’s memory he was sure.    

“They will be alright you know”  

He looked up at Yasha as she spoke, her mismatched eyes leaving the knot she had tied in the sling to look at him.  

“Beau and Fjord I mean, they’ll be okay”  

“How can you be so sure?”  

He sounded hopeless even to his own ears, desperate for  some kind of reassurance .  She offered him one of the rare small smiles she usually reserved for their family.  

“They have each other, and a med kit, and... I just am” she shrugged “I don’t have faith in much, but I have it in them”  

He sighed, and nodded, he knew she was right... Beauregard and Fjord were survivors both.  He couldn’t quite banish the panic in his mind, but something in her calm sense of certainty made it easier to ignore.  They sat in comfortable silence for a while as Yasha packed up the rest of the med kit.  Finally, she looked at him and gave him a sad smile.  

“Have I ever told you about the first flower I found in the Empire?”  

“No... I do not think so”  

She pulled out her book, settling against the wall next to him and flipping to the front.  

“I used to tell Molly about them when he had bad nights... maybe it will help?”  

Caleb stared at her for a moment before nodding.  

“ Ja, danke- thank you, Yasha... I- I think it might”  

She smiled again, held out the book so he could see the first few pages of pressed flowers, and started to talk.  

[silverbastardgoldenfool]

Realm of the Quarantine Reread End-of-Book Questionnaire: Royal Assassin

Any differences between your first/previous reading experience and this one?

Not as stark a difference as with Assassin’s Apprentice, but definitely still there. Apart from all the obvious stuff, like feeling much more attached to the characters already and picking up more details, I think the biggest change was a complete lack of patience for the teen romance drama lol. There was a decent period where I was feeling quite frustrated with it. Not that I loved it the first time round, but back then I had a very different view of how it fit into the story. I saw it as teaching Fitz a depressing lesson of what it really means to be a royal bastard and a king’s man. Fitz’s literal need (for all he knows he would have been killed if not for his deal with Shrewd) and sense of duty to put his loyalty to his king and country first creates a relationship that is toxic, turbulent and built on lies. And teenage horniness masquerading as love. I saw all that the first time and thought it was just something he had to go through. Now I know it’s something he never really goes through but rather grips onto, romanticises and ultimately goes back to. I know the point of that is meant to be that he finally gets to have something for himself, but why it had to be Molly specifically??? I have very few qualms with Robin’s writing choices overall, but why she chose to write their relationship this way if they really are meant to be is beyond me, especially when so many of her other romances are written so well - it feels like it can’t possibly be unintentional. For most of this book they’re either fighting or fucking and honey! That ain’t love! Hell, Fitz all but sees her as just another demand on his time as the book goes on. But he can’t let her go because she’s the one thing he can point to that makes him feel normal. Not happy, not cherished, not safe. Normal. She’s simply a refuge from his real life. He literally says to Chade “I need her.” I find that so telling, man. It’s not really about her, which is a shame because Molly is great. They’re just really not good for each other.

So yeah. It’s just kind of trying to read all the Fitz/Molly stuff when you know and don’t like what it ultimately culminates in. At the same time… Bee… So I will always be conflicted lol. I just can’t separate the events of Royal Assassin from the furious disappointment I felt when I finished Fool’s Fate. Perhaps I’ll have a new Fool’s Fate experience this time that will make the next re-read a bit easier in regards to Fitz and Molly? But I won’t bet on it lol.

Anyway. It’s not as if I haven’t already said just about everything there possibly is to say about Fitz and Molly yet I also feel like I could go on about it forever. Luckily this is kind of as bad as it gets in terms of how much “screen time” they actually get (apart from Fool’s Assassin maybe? But they don’t bother me too much in that) so yay! I made it! And hopefully it’ll be a good few books before y’all have to endure my ranting about it again :)) Also hopefully this doesn’t give the impression that this read was more bad than good? It was mostly just a particular angsty chunk before they properly get together that was a bit of a slog to get through, but overall I really loved reading this book again and got a lot out of it.

Something you can’t believe you forgot

That Molly punches Fitz in the face hard enough that he bleeds and that Fitz fully intended to punch the Fool for asking if Molly was preggo before seeing he had already been beaten. I pretend I do not see it.

Favourite character introduction moments/scenes

Omfg I was just about to say “huh we didn’t really get any major character intros in this book” bitch Nighteyes???? But in my defence I just. Cannot process the fact that Nighteyes is only really in 3 of 16 books he just feels omnipresent to me BUT his introduction is most definitely iconique and god I love him and he made me cry eight thousand times!

Favourite character arcs

Speaking of Nighteyes: what a glow up. He goes from angry, scared, untrusting little bb to……. Nighteyes. Like. How does one even describe the kind of person Nighteyes becomes. He’s just Nighteyes and I love him with all my fuckin heart!! He is Fitz’s constant… He is wise… He is silly… a comedic genius…… a big, open, unconditional heart. Incomparable. I can’t believe I’ve seen ppl saying they dislike/d Nighteyes……. Honey…… it’s called taste xx

Favourite quote/s

Again no tabs so it’s a bit harder to keep track but there were a few that stuck out enough to copy down. There are a lot of iconic quotes in this book that get shared a lot so I only bothered with ones I didn’t remember.

- “I wince to think of the price willingly paid for loving me.”

- “My soft, clean bed beckoned, like a soft, clean tomorrow.” (mood)

- “I looked and saw they were both made of hungers, like containers made of emptiness.”

Favourite relationships

Kettricken/Verity obviously. I was shocked by how little time they actually have together being in love before Verity leaves??? Because all I remembered was how strong their love is. But the whole journey towards that love is what makes it stand out as an actual compelling story in its own right. This is definitely one of Robin’s greatest skills as a writer; giving the minor characters depth by giving them their own relationships that grow and change and have a life of their own outside of Fitz. It makes the world feel so much more alive.

Also Burrich/Fitz in this book continues to be bittersweet, but with a lot more sweet in there than usual! They fully start out this book as a team. Burrich calling Fitz “FitzChivalry” makes me fuckin emo and idk why even. Burrich does seem to start seeing Fitz a lot more as his own person in this book which changes their dynamic in some rly nice ways. The fact that towards the end of the book Burrich even uses the wit to help Fitz is enough to make me cry tbh - and writing this has made me realise that I’m officially past any uncomplicated good times between Burrich and Fitz y’all mind if I fuckin die real quick!!

Fitz/Verity is soy pure and beautiful. Fitz and the Fool is always, always compelling and complex and tender and perfectly mysterious. But overall you’d have to say Fitz/Nighteyes, hey? They are literally meant to be, in a way so straightforward and undeniable and beautifully simple that I never really know what to say about it. Little brother!!! :’) They literally make me cry all the frickin time lol rip!

Favourite setting

There aren’t that many to choose from in this book! Ima go with the skill river bc hey, Robin’s magic systems are so unique and beautiful and the fact that the skill is written as a kind of a place is really frickin cool and deserves a shoutout.

Favourite chapter

The final chapter (not the epilogue) ummm broke my heart but it is written so beautifully, oh my god, it’s like an out of body experience. I feel like this is kind of when RotE becomes RotE - the first time it really goes to that place that is so fitting yet so unexpected, so beautiful, so tragic, so awful, so visceral. Making use of the genre to really test the limits of humanity; to see how far you can bend a person without breaking them and then refusing to turn away from the consequences. Idk man!! I don’t know how to describe it without sounding like a pretentious dick but it really is that intense and strange and overwhelming for me. There is something in that moment, when Burrich pulls Fitz’s body out of the earth and Fitz/Nighteyes is recoiling from it and deeply terrified… Something about the enormity of the existential questions raised converging with the pinpoint specificity of it all being wrapped up in the story of a character that feels so real and who you care about so deeply… It’s almost written like a horror scene, but that’s not quite the feeling. It’s just the RotE feeling; there are multiple throughout all five series, and it’s what makes these books unlike any other.

Most loved character

Fitz, Nighteyes, the Fool all had my entire heart this book. The Fool is just so sad and pathetic and literally must be protected!! I think I’m kind of obsessed with Burrich? Also I think I almost forgot how much I love Kettricken? She’s a complete badass of course but she’s also got the biggest goddamn heart like…. Who said she was allowed to be such a beautiful person???

But god, everyone. I love them all.

Most hated character

What can I say? Regal is disgostang. Wall Ass a close second.

Raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimised by Robin Hobb (most heartbreaking and/or visceral moments)

Shall I list just a few? :)

- Burrich screaming at Fitz through the bars of his jail cell, horrible things you can’t help but feel are at least a little bit true

- Burrich sobbing over Fitz’s dead body repeating, “You aren’t dead, you aren’t dead.”

- Fitz going to Nighteyes before everything went down on the night of the coronation and just fuckin hugging him really tight

- Fitz trying desperately to leave his broken vessel behind but not quite being able to disown his body

- The Fool being beaten

- The Fool being beaten again

- The Fool sprawled and weeping across Shrewd’s dead body

- The Fool really believing for a moment that Fitz had betrayed him and killed Shrewd

- Fitz tending the Fool’s wounds………. bitch….

- Chade giving Fitz a chance to escape with them and Fitz going to kill Serene and Justin instead

- Idk why this is even that sad but Nighteyes saying the only person he loves is Fitz!

- The entire incident with the forged ones literally tearing apart a three year old girl, which I had completely blocked out until now :)

- The fact that Fitz continues to be reminded and traumatised by this incident for the remainder of the book beCAUSE HE IS A GOOD BOY. A VERY GOOD BOY WITH A VERY GOOD HEART.

- Fitz repelling at Nighteyes to try and force their bond broken

- LITTLE BROTHER

- WOLVES HAVE NO KINGS

- High off his face Fitz calling Patience “mother” no shut the fuck up!!!!

Details, observations, spoilery notes made with the benefit of the full picture

- I’ve been trying for ages to decipher when the Fool started falling for Fitz, and I think I’m officially putting my money on their last interaction in AA. “I wish I had a place that was as much me as that place is you.” I mean. If someone said that to me… I’m not a slut but who knows, ya know? (I know this is more a note for the last book but I thought of it while reading this book. So shh.)

- It’s so clear to see this time how much Fitz’s sense of self and politics are affected by his time in the Mountains. He obviously feels much more inclined to their way of thinking about royalty and sacrifice and equality and returns to Buckkeep with a self-respect he’s never really had before. Weird how being among people who don’t just think of you as The Bastard will do that.

- It’s no wonder Fitz becomes so fixated on Molly; he literally has almost nothing else to occupy him and no companionship when she suddenly shows up

- It’s gross that he spies on her, obviously, but you can’t not take into account the fact that Chade has been teaching him since he was ten that this is justifiable behaviour; a reasonable way to gather information and get what you want. Fitz’s lack of social awareness goes further than him just being a little awkward; he has literally been trained to believe the only thing wrong with stalking would be getting caught.

- I’ve seen a few people talk about the fact that Regal isn’t appropriately punished as if it’s bad writing and like, while it is frustrating, it is supposed to be frustrating - it is not a plot hole. It made sense to me the first time I read it and it was even more obvious this time; Regal has the loyalty of the inland duchies. If he were to be publicly punished those dukes would rally behind him and raise hell, and Regal would no longer need to play the part of the dutiful prince. Even if Regal died a “natural” death - something I can’t see Shrewd or Verity orchestrating anyway - the inland dukes would feel that they no longer have a Farseer on their side and may, again, raise hell. It’s a delicate balance that would be outrageously difficult not to topple if you removed Regal from the equation. There is a lot more to it than I’ll bother writing here but yeah. I don’t really know how people can read this book and think that Regal retaining his life and position is some sort of lazy plot contrivance. It was all set up in the first book dude.

- Fitz and Nighteyes meeting in this book is the perfect metaphor for our need for connection versus the fear of inevitable loss. Fitz’s experience tells him that entering into a bond with an animal can only end in pain, yet he can’t resist it. In real life this is especially true with humans and our animal companions, since they almost always have a shorter lifespan than us; signing up to love them is signing up to lose them. But the same is also true of our relationships with other humans. And like Fitz, we have all had our fair share of loss and pain. We all have our reasons to be afraid of the connection we naturally crave. Sometimes we give in to the fear to the point of holding ourselves back from it entirely. That’s where Fitz is at when he meets Nighteyes. But what’s so beautiful about their arc as a metaphor is that it suggests that these connections, if we submit to them, are what keep our vital spark alive. Even when Nighteyes dies later in the series, the sentiment always remains, essentially, “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all.” Ya boi is projecting bc it’s hard to be vulnerable and make friends as an adult, but I think the observation stands. Love and connection and vulnerability are key threads that run throughout all of Fitz’s story, but in this book it is best represented through him and Nighteyes.

- “I hoped I would not become too adept at lying to myself.” Honey, you got a big storm comin.

- Very inch resting (gay) that Fitz finds it hard to meet the Fool’s eyes. I know almost everyone does bc his eyes are weird, but I reserve the right to reach and I will absolutely NOT be accepting criticism.

- I find it interesting that Fitz says Kettricken’s wit is not strong just because she doesn’t use it exactly the way he does

- I know it’s not meant to be funny but……. The way Fitz described losing his virginity had me literally laughing out loud

- Fitz was really like “okay i better go break my bond with Nighteyes” just cos he and Molly fucked. Teenagers don’t deserve rights.

- You know what? I really, really appreciate how fucking weird these books are lol. What other author would use their magic system to have their characters accidentally intruding on each other’s awkward sex stuff? Okay, maybe a few, but they would do it to be like, edgy and sexy. Robin Hobb just does it to make you cringe so hard you lose several years off of your life.

- But seriously, even apart from the cringe stuff, these books get so strange and out there and like! That’s what magic is for! 

- Bruh. When Fitz is like “omg poor Verity…. He’ll never have what i have with Molly” I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone encapsulate the self-important delusion of teen romance so perfectly lol. Wow.

- Okay some Fitz/Fool stuff that made me lose my tiny mind. Sorry.

- Fitz literally said about the Fool “he burned too brightly” I WILL DIE.

- Fitz is always like, irritated by the Fool… yet positively delighted by his presence at the same time…… okay bitch

- Inch resting how Fitz has always been uncomfortable with the Fool getting serious. I don’t quite know how to put my thoughts on this into words so like. I’ll just put it there. Make of it what you will.

- “Sit on my clothes chest and take your shirt off…” i stopped fucking breathing noah fence

- “I ran my fingers lightly down the line of his jaw, and around his eye socket. At least no bone seemed damaged. ‘Who did this to you?’ I asked him.” my GOD this is literally textbook gay/romance. It hurts me. It physically hurts me.

- Straight from my notes: “I can’t even focus on reading this bc it’s the first time they are tending each other’s wounds and I am a homosexual!” and “the gays are quaking!! (it’s me I’m the gays)

- Okay wow! I think that’s it! Hello if you made it this far! Hope this was remotely coherent and I’m always keen to hear your thoughts on my thoughts :)

Anyone doing a reread feel free to fill this out! You don’t have to use the tag :)

[takeiteasypeasybaby]

Save Me: Chapter 28 - Look Death in the Face

~Hey guys! Chapter 28 is out now!! Negan finally gets what has been coming to him for a while...Will Molly be able to deal with his fate? I hope everyone is having a good week :) Love you all <3~

This was it. For both leaders, it was finally time to look death in the face and accept it. For most, this was the physical death of their enemy, whereas for Molly, this meant the emotional death of her loved one in her heart and her former self.

Rick and I led them across the field and towards the Sanctuary which we could now see in the distance.

Everyone was focussed and determined, no fear now just pure hatred, except me.

As we all moved stealthily as one we were halted by a loud blood curdling whistle.

It was them.

The noise surrounded us as it felt like it came from all directions.

I looked at Rick and Maggie who were turning around frantically trying to find out where the noise came from.

My heart felt like it was pounding in my mouth as my breathing became more rapid.

I squinted to try and see any Saviours over the hill, there were none yet that haunting sound ensued.

All of a sudden a voice on a megaphone tauntingly shouted 'well shit Rick! Would you look at that? I just ambushed your ambush with an even bigger ambush!'.

Shit it was Negan. He sounded vengeful, almost dark.

I pictured his eyes which wouldn't be that light shade of amber anymore.

He wanted us all dead, I knew that now.

Rick was getting pissed off now.

'How about you step out and face us?' he shouted.

We heard a loud chuckle then Negan said 'Oh Rick I am everywhere! Pick a direction to run, see how you do. Make it fun for all of us!'.

We couldn't escape even if we wanted to, Rick would never let this go.

'Guess what else I did...I brought some of your old friends' he said confidently.

If my ears could prick up, they would have now.

I knew he meant Eugene but the only other would have been Gabriel, but we all thought he had escaped.

'You remember your old buddy Eugene? Well, he is the one that made today possible. Same goes for Dwighty-boy here' Negan shouted.

I looked at Rosita who was scowling now at Eugene's betrayal.

I just hoped he would do the right thing, everything was riding on that.

He knew about Dwight's helping us.

Even though I never forgave him for Denise, neither would Tara, I still couldn't let him die.

I readied my gun when Negan said 'In case you were wondering, he didn't ream you on purpose. No, he's just a gutless fucker that sucks at life and now he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, he has to live with that'.

At this the Saviours stepped forward and formed a line in front of us so that they just peaked over the hill.

'Gabriel, well he's gotta go too. We are cleaning house today Rick' Negan added.

I looked through my binoculars to see Negan holding a gun up to Gabriel's head and Dwight standing beside them, wearing a prisoner uniform.

I scanned for Simon frantically, wanting to take a shot at him first, but he wasn't there.

At all.

Negan was there to show his full force and would've brought his right hand man, unless he was dead.

I smirked vengefully just thinking about it.

'And then there's you. It never had to be a fight, you just had to accept how things were. So here we go, congratulations Rick! This is all on you, you can blame yourself for Molly now as well' Negan said almost with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

Why would Rick blame himself for me?

I shot him a confused look, until the realisation hit me.

He had told him I was dead. What if Negan's anger towards 'mourning' me was gonna get us all killed.

Rick just looked at Negan, avoiding my gaze.

'Goddamn it Rick!' I whispered to him, even Michonne shot him a look of disappointment.

'Three, two, one...' Negan counted down until we heard a loud bang and Saviours dropping like flies.

He had done it! I smirked as I looked at Eugene.

'Now!' Rick shouted as we ran towards them.

Negan's gun had backfired and a casing had torn through his right hand.

'Eugene!' he yelled in pain.

Gabriel punched him in the face as Dwight tried to wrestle him against the bonnet of his car.

Negan managed to push him off with Lucille and ran towards the woods.

'He's running!' Maggie shouted as Rick went after him.

'Keep going! To the rendezvous point, the others should already be there' I shouted to everyone else as we gained on the Saviours who were falling to their knees.

'Don't shoot! Please. We're done. It's over' Laura said as they all put their hands up and surrendered their weapons.

I nodded to her, she had been kind to me at the Sanctuary and after all Rick only wanted Negan dead.

Once they had surrendered, I ran after Rick.

My heart pounding out of my chest and my breathing becoming more irregular when I saw Rick and Negan by a tree with stained glass hanging off its branches.

Negan's POV//

Rick came rushing around the tree as I knocked him to the ground with Lucille.

'Just so you know, the eeny meeny miny moe, that was bullshit. I made a choice, I just didn't wanna kill kid's dad right in front of him. Turns out, that would've been the best thing I could've done. Had I done it, that kid might've still been alive' I taunted.

At this Rick kicked my legs, knocking me off my feet as I fell on my back.

'You're beat. Your people are down' Rick said breathlessly.

I groaned as I stood up slowly, saying 'I'll get out of it, I always do'.

'It's just you and me Rick. You, you are torn open. I am bigger, I am badder  and I got a bat' I said smirking at him lying there on the grass.

Like hell I was gonna die.

'We can have...a future' Rick said, his voice straining on every word as he winced in pain.

I smiled, saying 'I know I will'.

He tried to stand up and pleaded, 'just give me ten seconds. I can tell you how'.

I scowled at him, thinking about Molly and how she might be dead because of both of us.

'No' I answered.

'Please just give me ten seconds for Carl' he begged, now standing.

I paused and nodded.

Now I started counting, 'ten...nine'.

'Carl said, it doesn't have to be...be a fight anymore' he said struggling to speak.

I held Lucille up and scowled saying 'he was wrong, eight...'.

Rick panted and said 'no, no he was right'.

My scowl hardened at his pleading for his life until I saw her.

Molly was standing there, behind Rick.

Tears fell down my face as I looked at her.

'M-Mol...' was all I managed as suddenly Rick ninja sliced open my jugular with a piece of glass he found on the grass.

I dropped to my knees, my gaze still firmly on hers.

I knew I would die and I wanted her to be the last thing I saw.

She gasped and covered her mouth as she lunged forward, Michonne stopping her from reaching me.

The others stood beside her, including the widow.

Rick waited for a minute and walked towards them, blood gushing from my neck as I tried to stop it with my hand.

'Save him' Rick said to some doctor.

Those words rang in my ears as I saw Molly's look of relief and the widow screaming 'No!'.

I wasn't relieved when I heard Rick's words.

I wanted to die, after what I did and who I hurt the most, I couldn't face her.

'No! He can't...he killed Glenn!' the widow shouted as Michonne held her back.

I was fading in and out of consciousness when I felt someone stitch up my neck and cover it with a bandage.

'We have to!' Rick shouted to her as she yelled 'we have to end it! Rick! We have to make it right. It's not over till he's dead!'.

When I stopped bleeding I saw Molly looking down now.

She was happy I was alive, but I knew that changed nothing between us.

I really felt like dying now.

'There's gotta be something after' Rick said to the widow as he now addressed my men.

They still had their hands up, they had surrendered.

'Everyone put your hands down, you're all gonna go home now' Rick shouted as they put their hands down slowly.

'Negan's alive. But his way of doing things is over! Anyone who can't live with that will pay the price, I promise you that. Any person here who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground, this world is yours by right' he shouted.

'We are life, that's death! It's coming for us, unless we stand together' he shouted pointing at the distant hoard of walkers.

'Go home, then the work begins. The new world begins. All this, all this is just what was. There's gotta be something after!' Rick yelled as some guys lifted me onto a stretcher and put me in the back of a van.

The fuckers were gonna take me to Alexandria, I knew it.

Molly's POV//

It was a curious feeling, the man I loved was alive and yet dead at the same time.

Tears flowed down my face as I watched them take him away.

I never wanted him dead, but seeing how much his presence affected my family made me feel even worse.

Michonne and I held Maggie as she curled up on the grass and sobbed for Glenn's memory.

I understood Rick and I agreed with him, but seeing Maggie like that broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.

Rosita stood next to us with Eugene who had now returned to us.

'What happened to the guns? That you?' she asked him.

Eugene turned to me as I stroked Maggie's hair and nodded.

'Us. We introduced the sabotage aspect to the manufacturing process unbeknownst to my colleagues which was inspired by Molly's purposeful determination and resilience. Plus a few things you imparted on me before I left. Ergo I created a modicum of phooey for kablooie' he said seriously.

Rosita smiled and turned to me and nodded a 'thank you'.

I smiled back, there was a change in the air after that.

I practically felt people warm to me again.

As I looked around, I saw Gabriel and Eugene but not Dwight.

A rush of panic washed over me as I couldn't see him.

The Saviours were now leaving but I saw Laura and I ran over to her to ask her what happened to him.

She smiled weakly and said that he had left but left a note in one of the cars.

I nodded a thank you and ran back to where the Saviour's cars were.

I checked each one before seeing a small folded piece of white paper stuck to the windscreen of presumably Negan's car.

I looked around me to check no one was there and opened it slowly, it read:

Molly,

I always knew you'd make it, thats just the type of person you are.

A while after you escaped, I helped Sherry get away too. I'm not sure where she is but I promise to always keep looking for her. I'm not coming back.

I don't know whether Negan will be dead by the time you read this, but if he isn't, be careful.

Dwight.

I folded it back up and sighed, the guy had practically predicted it.

Negan was like a cat with nine lives.

Just as I was about to walk back, I saw Negan's red scarf on the front seat in the car.

I hesitated but then grabbed a rock and smashed the window so I could grab it.

I held it between my fingers and pressed it against my cheek.

His smell was all over it and it reminded me of our time together.

I didn't know whether I would ever give it back to him, but I couldn't leave it there.

I stuffed it into my jacket pocket, along with Dwight's letter and set off after my family.

[messrmarauder]

sup’ share your remadora headcanons pls

i have too many, here we go!

‘amused, impressed, smitten’ happened so damn fast because they spent so much time together doing order work and she would come over to try and cheer up sirius a lot

they get on straight away, always laughing and joking and they flirt but it’s a joke, it’s a just a joke.. right?

so he was basically completely in love with her within a month

he doesn’t know it though because they’re just friends, right? and friends think about friends all the time right? like all day? and all night? and friends can’t sleep because friends winked at them at 3pm? and friends feel their heart shatter when someone subtly teases their friend about someone that may or may not be another man? and friends secretly switch shifts around so they’re on the same guard watch and missions together? and friends walk each other home all the time? even though it’s a 40 minute walk each way and its far easier to floo but if she floos he wont get that kiss on the cheek that he thinks about the entire walk home and then regrets it because its creepy isn’t it? because she’s so young? and she doesn’t know that he’ll lay in bed and think about it for hours wondering why he cares so much  but they are just friends

then one day he’s writing her a letter, about something that doesn’t matter and is definitely something that doesn’t require a letter to be sent to her while she’s at work, but he’ll find any excuse at this point. and it just hits him, he thought something to himself about how even thinking of her made his entire day and it sounds far too similar to something james had once said about lily when he was trying to explain how he knew she was the one

he panics. he panics hard. he sits for hours completely still just wondering what the fuck he can do, until he decides to write to dumbledore saying he has to leave London, he can’t face her loving someone else, he thinks he would literally explode. but he calms himself down, there’s a war, harry needs him. so he bins the letter. he knows she would never think of him like that so he feels no guilt being her friend. because theyre just friends.

and the worst part is, to her, they really are just friends. it creeps up on her slowly, rather than being hard and fast like it was for him.

so for the most part, theyre just really close friends, joking and flirting, and he’s hiding the fact he’s completely in love with her and she doesn’t know but sometimes looks at him a bit suspiciously at the things he does or says that are a bit too soft and a bit too caring. but he slowly becomes her best friend

the order can tell straight away, its pathetic, he’s a mess around her despite them being so comfortable around each other. what they don’t see is that he literally pines for her. at 35. listening to all those songs about love knowing he’ll never have it

he’s badly jealous and can get quite nasty and judgemental if she has a date or talking about her exes. he used to really like bill, they get on great and he’s a good laugh, but he doesn’t speak to him for 3 weeks after finding out he and tonks had a drunken night once years ago and repeatedly tells sirius he’s a self-obsessed prick and hints to molly that bill needs a haircut. he used to support the montrose magpies until he found out tonks used to see the current captain, they never win anyway, remus thinks it’s probably because of him

molly even sits tonks down for a strong word about ‘being careful with him and letting him down gently because none of us need a broken heart in this war’ and tonks just laughs but she does start to notice what the rest of the order sees but she thinks maybe he’s just got a little crush and that’s fine because maybe she thinks he’s cute too? maybe

she falls for him way after he has and its not as terrifying, she doesn’t even think about it. it just sort of dawned on her one that that’s what it was, the thing they had going on, it made sense 

she tells her friends about this guy from her ‘duelling team’ to secretly get advice on him 

they end up together about 3 months before sirius dies after 100 ‘almost kisses’ and cuddling in bed as ‘friends’ because ‘the other rooms don’t have heating charms’ and holding hands because ‘she falls a lot padfoot, shut up’

there’s a fight with the death eaters and they think each other have been hit so when its finally over they’re running and screaming for each other until they dramatically run into each other’s arms and kiss and its all very romantic until mad eye shouts ‘HANDS OFF MY AUROR LUPIN’ and they break away and grin at each other

the next few months are bliss and they’re rarely apart, sirius moved from teasing remus about fancying her to glaring at him and giving him ‘the big brother talk’. remus quickly tells him to fuck off but tonks thinks its hilarious.

tonks friend finds out about them because he’s visiting her while she recovers after being really badly injured in the department of mysteries. she doesn’t take it well and starts telling tonks she’s crazy etc and tonks is like fuck off then bigot

but it reminds remus of how people see him and therefore how they will now start to see her. he’d never really thought about it because he never imagined them actually being together because it seemed so unrealistic. now he’s in full meltdown mode about what he could actually give her, which coincidentally, is nothing

they fight about it. they break up. remus decides to go and spy since that’s all he can offer the world. tonks is sent to guard hogsmeade/hogwarts since she’s not fit for detective duties.

he announces in a order meeting that he’s leaving and that’s how she finds out. he says he has nothing to lose when someone mentions the danger. it just makes her angrier, that she’s sitting there loving him, but he says there’s nothing for him. she says she loves him when he leaves. quite angrily. and disapparates before he can react

he shows up on her doorstep less than a month later, face black and blue, filthy, teeth missing, broken bones, after being caught out. he expects her to shudder and be disgusted when she opens the door but she kisses him. she starts to clean him up when he says he had to come back to tell her he loved her, he didn’t want to die without saying it. he says it 400 times that night, he can’t stop.

he leaves the next morning while she’s asleep and doesn’t say goodbye. this is the start of the ‘grief fucking’. something happens, he comes back, kissing her, saying life’s too short, that they need each other, he ‘stays the night’, she thinks they’ll be fine but he leaves in the middle of the night every time, and she breaks all over again. he knows its not fair and promises himself that he won’t do it next time someone dies but he does because he needs her

dumbledore told him to take something with him while he’s spying that will make him feel human and keep him sane. so he takes a picture of her, he’s scared he’ll forget her smile. but they find it, the werewolves, and he’s come back smelling of her one too many times so greyback decides he’s going to teach him a lesson about running away to witches. remus finds out about it and sends word that she needs to be hidden immediately

he goes to see her to explain he needs to be completely cut off from her and she needs to deny all knowledge of him, he needs to fully be isolated from the wizarding world for this mission to work. but she’s seen what this mission has already done to him, he’s a mess, physically, mentally, he talks of himself as if he is one of them, he’s adopted far harsher habits and doesn’t have his usual patient personality. she doesn’t want to hide, she wants to fight them, fight for remus, fight for them, so they start to argue and he’s so terrified of greyback getting her he’ll do anything to get her to forget him. so when she screams “but it doesn’t matter, if I love you and you love me-“ he turns around and screams “I DON’T LOVE YOU”  and he says it while looking right in her eyes and he sees the light leave her eyes and she looks down. he didn’t mean it, he was just desperate for her to understand and he’s trying to take it back, trying to explain but she shouts at him to get out. he goes back to the pack to try and blend in again, hoping she’ll stay hidden

there’s an emotional wizarding condition about shock that makes your eyes, ears, nose bleed and cough up blood etc, it’s pretty nasty. she gets it and gets it bad because she was so sure about their love but now she’s utterly convinced he was speaking the truth, he’s a bad liar and who would ever lie about that? mad-eye finds her bleeding out in her flat soon after remus leaves, she’d started choking on her own blood and she couldn’t see, she signalled him, he takes her to st mungo’s. he’s been alerted by dumbledore about the situation so he knows the werewolves can’t know her whereabouts so he gets a professional wizarding copycat, whose hired to walk around hogsmeade under polyjuice as a decoy while she recovers. she’s in hospital feeling completely useless and pathetic, what kind of auror doesn’t know someone’s not in love with you? she sits for hours thinking about how disappointed mad-eye must be, how dumb she is, how every touch, every kiss, every i love you, it was all a lie. she analyses every moment they had together, convincing herself they were all fake and trying to understand what his motive was, if he was just lonely?

the pack catches the fake tonks but remus doesn’t know about mad-eyes plan so he wakes up to the pack making a riot and goes over to check it out only to see tonks screaming and being hurt and groped and attacked. he is forced to watch greyback rip out her throat while they hold him back, he’s screaming and begging, then they drop her and move on to him. he’s battered but not enough to kill him. once they leave him he’s able to grab her and disparate to the burrow. arthur is in the garden and suddenly remus is just there with her, both covered in her blood, her throat ripped out, on the grass screaming.

the weasleys don’t know about the plan either and try to get him away from her, but he wont stop screaming and holding her and saying sorry, begging her, telling her he always loved her, that he’s a liar. he cant stop thinking about the last words he said to her, ‘I DON’T LOVE YOU I DON’T LOVE YOU I DON’T LOVE YOU’ and that she believed that. she died believing he didn’t love her and knew he and his kind were the reason she was dead. he cant take it and suddenly his wand is at his throat and he says the words as bill dives for his wand but blood splatters everywhere and he falls backwards and molly is screaming. he’s managed to cut himself but not his throat, thanks to bill. he spends 2 days in percys old bedroom on suicide watch begging bill to empathise and give him his wand back, ‘what if it had been fleur? if you had killed her, bill’ until they switch it to charlie who remus cant even look at considering the long feud he’s had with him for being on-and-off with tonks. he’d once told tonks that charlie was a fucking idiot, what kind of fucking idiot would ditch her for dragons? probably the same kind that left her for werewolves

after they both find out the truth, dumbledore breaks it to him, tells him about mad-eyes plan. mad-eye is trying to explain to tonks that remus had been caught with a picture of her, that the werewolves knew he wasn’t loyal because of her, so they killed her, or so they thought. she doesn’t want to see him, it doesn’t make a difference, he doesn’t love her anyway does he? he just feels guilty. but she needs to know why he had the picture and mad-eye says if she doesn’t go to see him he’ll probably break into her house, seeing the state of him. so she agrees to meet him at the burrow. he’s so relieved he’s openly sobbing on his knees, holding onto her and she’s thinking this is awkward and fully to do with guilt and nothing to do with love. he tries to explain how he had to say it to get her to stay away, that he was beyond desperate and she doesn’t believe him. ‘you can’t look into the eyes of someone you love and say that’ and he doesn’t really have an answer, just mumbles something about life or death.

after molly tells her all the details and how distraught he had been, she rethinks and goes to see him again. they talk it out properly, not screaming for once, they’re both too tired in this war and he’s too grateful to see her with her throat intact to be angry. she tells him about being in hospital but downplays it a lot, he’s still beating himself up about it until she points out she would have been caught by the werewolves if she wasn’t. they only see each other at order meetings until christmas.

he didn’t know about her patronus until harry mentioned it. he goes to see her, she is alone, but she had been working a double shift. he asks to see it and she refuses, says it’s not really any of his business unless he wants to be with her, but as he explains more about it, she thinks he’s realised they can’t be apart if this is true, so she shows him but it makes no difference because it was the usual ‘stay the night but leave again as soon as she fell asleep’ situation. she turns hopeless, if her patronus isn’t enough to show him how willing she is to sacrifice things to be with him, nothing ever will be.

after the hospital wing scene they go to grimmauld place to destroy any evidence before snape lets the death eaters in. he tries to avoid her but she catches him just to say that he’s right and they don’t have time to fight each other now that Dumbledore is gone, that they need to focus on the war, they’ve too much to do. he just nods but he doesn’t feel right. is that really it? shouldn’t he feel happy that she’ll be spared his life? but she’s still not happy he thinks. he sits up all night in the house they fell in love in and thinks maybe mcgonagall was right.

she goes home to sleep before the ministry spend all day interrogating her about dumbledores death tomorrow, but he wakes her up in the middle of the night, he asks to come in, she says there’s no more ‘grief fucks’ that she cant handle being used like that anymore. he says it’s not like that, obviously she’s not going to believe him but it’s different. he says he can’t go to the burrow, that he doesn’t want to intrude after what just happened. tonks lets him stay but only on the couch, and he thinks maybe he has lost her for good. he’s fucked her about too much and for too long. he wonders how he can show her he won’t leave this time.

the next few days are him trying to convince her this isn’t grief, its real and he is back for good, and her saying he just wants what he can’t have now and he’ll get over it in a few days. they go about missions together because she is on suspension for failing to protect the school

they’re on a weekend mission together away in scotland and they’ve kind of gotten cosy together again, almost like they’re back together but he sees her doubting him constantly, like she thinks it’s too good to be true and he’ll leave again so she doesn’t want to get too close. so it hits him that he has to prove that this is permanent so he abruptly says ‘marry me’, it’s not a question. she just laughs asking if he’s hit his head but he’s gotten very serious and says he’ll prove this is serious by marrying her, she thinks he’s fucking insane and says absolutely not but they get back together and she says she trusts him. but he keeps mentioning getting married to prove he’s here to stay after so many times of walking away but she keeps refusing him, saying they don’t need to, that it doesn’t matter. eventually he gets really emotional about how it’s really important to him to feel secure together, that they need a solid confirmation of this thing, and she agrees and they get married two days later.

it’s not a secret for long, her friend turns sides and rats them out to the death eaters,

umbridge sacks her for ‘beastiality’ in front of the entire auror department and she swears she’ll never work for the ministry again

the pregnancy is a mess. he leaves while she’s screaming at him saying if he leaves, that’s really the end of them, no going back, their marriage will be void. he leaves anyway. she waits all night for him, when he doesn’t return that night she waits until 3pm the next day before packing some stuff and going back to her parents, knowing that there was no going back this time.

he comes back to her parents, where they stayed after her parents were attacked, and andromeda screams and refuses to let him see her and says the flat has been sold and she’ll be out by monday so he better pack his shit and fuck off quickly. he has to plan the right moment to catch her in the flat by herself. she’s calm, terrifyingly calm for a pregnant women whose husband walked out on her, just packing boxes, telling him all his stuff is in the small amount of boxes in the livingroom, he can have that spare cauldron if he wants. he tries to talk to her about it but she keeps dismissing him, trying to ignore him, she shuts him up with ‘look, i know you were scared, i know you always come back, i know that but i wont have a child sitting at the window wondering if daddy will come back this time. that’s not fair, they didn’t ask for this, i did.’ and he knows he has no argument.

she says there’s post for him on the mantle and he finds a letter addressed to him with her wedding ring in it. he can’t stop himself, he’s begging her to put it back on, on his knees, half hysterical, trying to put it back on her. she says he broke his vows, theyre not together, why should she wear it but his begging gets to her and she puts it back on to shut him up but she doesn’t take it off again

he spends the next month completely doing up his father’s old rundown cottage, complete with baby room and every method of protection he can do. he doesn’t know how to show it to her since he’s seen andromeda burning his letters and only ted answers the door, so he waits in her parents back garden for hours until he catches her on her own and begs her to come see what he’s been doing. she hesitates but he looks quite manic and like he hasn’t slept in weeks so she agrees just to make sure he’s not lost the plot. he shows her around while she’s silent, he’s talking far too quickly and looking far too frantic, as if he expects her to run out the door any second. he explains everything at lightning speed, how it is for her and the baby, its made for them, how he doesn’t have to be here, he’s been staying in the spare room while he set it up but he’ll be gone the second they want it, how he’ll send all the money he gets, he’s got bill to take out some gold for him - it’s in the kitchen, how he’ll get any medicine or pregnancy things she needs so she doesn’t have to leave hiding, he’ll help her move in if she needs, if it is a werewolf he’ll do everything, if she wants. he looks so desperate so she says she’ll think about it but she breaks down when she’s leaving, shouting that this is what she wanted for them, not just her and the baby. that it should be them living here, not just her and the baby. she moves in at the end of the month.

it’s a really horrible pregnancy due to stress and inability to see a healer whenever they need. he comes home one day and she’s screaming, he finds her covered in blood. they risk getting a healer. the healer says there’s a large chance that the baby hasn’t survived. she’s hysterical, crying and screaming and hitting remus, saying he wished for this, he prayed the baby would disappear. she knows it’s not true, that he loves this baby already but she’s so distraught. its andromeda that defends him, tells her shes being ridiculous, that he’s done nothing but try and provide for this baby, put the baby first always. remus is grateful but still blames himself, for not being grateful for this child.

when teddys born they nearly write edward john lupin down but remus thinks its not right. every lupin baby carries john as a middle name, they always have but he wants to honour james, wants to thank harry for setting him straight, giving him the good bollocking that lily would have. so he adopts the potter tradition, of using the fathers name for the middle name. he thinks it will sound self-conceded but tonks thinks its fitting that he should have something in common with his godfather, especially if he might not get the chance to meet him. so it is edward remus lupin

I have a lot of pregnancy/teddy headcanons but this already ridiculously long so let’s skip that.

they live and harry moves in with them to give the weasleys space after fred. especially since hermione now stays in rons room, there’s not much space for harry. it’s great but there are postwar stresses and pumps. she finds out a lot of her friends are dead, theyre both unemployed with a small baby, werewolf legislation is still awful and then there’s charlie weasley who sends a letter essentially saying if she wanted to restart her life in romania after the war, charlie would help tonks and teddy move. remus opens it and the house is tense for a while.

I also have a lot of headcanons about charlie/tonks and remus and charlie having beef throughout ootp/hbp/postwar but we will skip just now.

they have a second son when teddy is around two. they don’t really have the money but they are both thrilled and were in a ‘not trying but if it happens, it happens’ mindset because neither liked being an only child and teddy is so wonderful and definitely not a werewolf. therefore alastor john lupin is born. teddy and ally don’t get on that well, both are hufflepuff and ally is a mini athletic remus, quidditch obsessed compared to music obsessed teddy. harry is godfather to both, and spoils them beyond belief.

remus eventually ends up at the ministry for a werewolf investigation unit that works with the aurors to stop packs, offering support/help to recently bitten and werewolf integration into wizarding society. he eventually gives it up to home school teddy and look after ally then goes back to teach at hogwarts a few years before the boys arrive.

tonks becomes head of the auror training division after the war and trains harry and other new aurors because she doesn’t want to be out in the field again as a mum but is too good a dueller to be stuck on desk work.

she visits remus in hogwarts one day because shes in the castle anyway and some boy shouts ‘sir?? is that your wife?? shes FIT’ and remus goes ‘yes youre very right mr ross, lets discuss it in Thursday detention’. ‘its not his fault im hot remus, leave him be’. teddy demands his mother never return to hogwarts since his friends wont stop teasing him about how fit his mum is, ally doesn’t mind because his friends are 11 and don’t know how hot she is. remus secretly loves it.

i am so sorry for how long this is but im avoiding uni work and you gave me an excuse

[writings-of-dumpy]

George Weasley and the Girl in Ravenclaw: Part 4

Warnings: Blood, violence and mentions of torture. Also LANGUAGE and enter: spicy Raven

The summer holiday Raven spent at the Burrow was delightful despite the looming danger that You-Know-Who’s return presented. George could have never asked for a better way to spend his first magical summer than with his twin and the girl he loved, even if she wasn’t aware of his feelings. Fred and George would come up with ideas for their shop that they wanted to open in Diagon Alley after graduation, and Raven would help them out with how to do it practically all summer. George noticed Raven and his mum often went off on trips on their own and he found that to be delightful and a testament to Raven. His mum liked everyone, but he knows when his mum merely likes someone versus when she’s willing to accept them as her own. Harry, for example, made the cut almost immediately. Raven was almost just as fast.

That summer was slightly odd, though, because it was spent between the burrow and the Black residence. Raven didn’t seem to mind the travel, though, so George was happy enough to tag along. Through a severe amount of sleuthing, Fred and George had uncovered that the Order of the Phoenix was recruiting members, and all three of them wanted to join, but Molly made it very clear that finishing Hogwarts was a requirement for her children to join the Order.

George felt the last few days of summer were blurry as he sat in the great hall while a toad dressed in pink spoke about being friends with students. He looked over to Raven at her table and she had an unreadable expression. She managed to make eye contact with him for a brief moment, and the feast began.

“I don’t like that woman,” Raven said aloud on their way to Charms.

Fred and George gasp and smile, impressed. Fred spoke, “Never have I ever heard you talk about a teacher that way.”

“I’d barely call her a teacher. She’s a bureaucrat who just wants Fudge to like her. She doesn’t mean anything she says, it’s obvious,” Raven sneered.

George nodded. “I think you’re right.”

As the year progressed, Umbridge took it upon herself to make an entire wall full of decrees, and one of the only times George and Raven could be together without an IS Slytherin breathing down their throats was during DA meetings.

“Today, I’ll teach you all how to produce a patronus. All you have to do is think of the happiest memory—it can be anything!—and say Expecto Patronum,” Harry spoke aloud. “Okay, break off into groups and help each other out.”

“Alright, give it a go, smarty pants,” George teased Raven. She smiled and rolled her eyes, then thought for a moment.

After a beat, she held up her wand and performed the spell perfectly. Out of her wand flew a silver light that formed what looked to be a large ferret or a small weasel. George smirked to himself and was thoroughly impressed, but expected nothing less.

“What is it?” he asked her, knowing that she’d know more than anyone.

“A polecat. It’s a kind of weasel found in Europe,” she said with a smile and it trotted over to her. After a moment, it disappeared.

“Must mean you’re meant for a Weasley, hm?” George teased with a wink and a blush.

“Let’s see what yours is, then,” Raven challenged with a playful smile.

George thought for a moment. Happy thoughts, Harry said? Not just happy, the happiest. George brought his mind to the night of the Yule ball the previous year and pictured Raven so close to him and he felt his heart beat faster. Happiness swelled in him when he relived the night he nearly confessed his love and he felt for a moment that Raven was his to hold.

“Expecto Patronum!” he said with purpose and the same silver light came out of his wand and formed a medium-sized bird that flew over Raven, and then back to him. He smiled in delight at the creature he made.

“Hm, must mean you’re meant to be with a bird. Perhaps a Raven?” Fred hinted in a low voice only George could hear. George blushed hard as the bird flew away and disappeared, which left Raven in view.

“You did it! That’s amazing, George!” she congratulated and made her way over to him quickly and embraced him tightly. George held her close to him and smiled widely as he held her in the air for a moment. George smiled down at her in delight. For the rest of the lesson, they conjured patronus after patronus and forgot for a moment that the outside of these walls was a horrible dictatorship of a school.

As weeks turned into months, Umbridge only became worse. She doled out detention like it was nothing, and it was a place Fred and George often found themselves. Their usual pranks would cost them, and George did his best to prevent Raven from being associated with hem. As a muggle-born, she was most vulnerable to Umbridge’s harsh punishments. His cuts from her quills turned into a deep scar on his hand that he and Fred were trying to figure out how to cover or fade, but all of that would have to wait.

“Blimey, I believe it’s your turn to see the High Inquisitor, mudblood,” George heard a sniveling voice that could only belong to Draco Malfoy say. His head shot up and he saw Draco dragging a girl wearing Ravenclaw robes away.

“Hey, piss-head Milfoy!” George called, deliberately mispronouncing his name.

“George, no!” Raven’s voice called from beside the Slytherin.

His fears realized, George felt nothing but rage as he ran up the hall and slammed himself into Draco. He ignored Fred’s cries and Raven’s pleading for him to stop punching the blond boy, but George was driven by anger and fear for the one he loved. He couldn’t let Umbridge torture Raven, not without a fight. Draco’s nose was busted and bleeding at this point, and George felt two pairs of arms pull him off.

“Stop this at once, both of you! Mr. Weasley, my office immediately,” Professor McGonagall’s voice rang out through the courtyard. George realized that Raven and Fred had pulled him away from Draco, not the other IS students as he expected. “Miss Barrie, I trust you to take Mr. Malfoy to the infirmary.”

“Yes, professor,” Raven said. She offered a hand to help Draco up, but he ignored it and the two of them made their way toward the infirmary.

George received one of the worst reprimands of his life in McGonagall’s office. He stood there and barely listened to it because his mind was focused on how Raven was now not only going to be taken to be tortured by Umbridge, but before that she had to help the man taking her to said torture.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself, Mr. Weasley, because that behavior has earned you a week’s worth of detention,” McGonagall concluded. “And sixty points from Gryffindor.”

“I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t know what came over me,” George confessed. “I just hate what’s happening here, and when Draco used that slur and started hauling her away, I had to stop it.”

“You’re only one person, George. We all have to cooperate if we want things to run smoothly,” she said and sat in her chair. “I know that matters of the heart can be difficult, especially at such a delicate time, but think before you act.”

“I don’t want to cooperate with racists like Malfoy,” George muttered, echoing words Raven had spoken a few days earlier.

“I wasn’t speaking about cooperating with HIM,” she said coolly and gave George a knowing look. George let out a breath and nodded, then headed back to his dormitory.

On the way, he heard someone crying down one of the hallways. He turned and saw a younger Gryffindor, a first year no doubt, crying with blood on his hands. Fred was sat next to him and attempting to console him.

“I know it hurts, but it does subside. Look, our scars are already starting to fade,” George said as he knelt down next to the boy. The boy sniffled and nodded with tears rolling down his face still. Fred and George shared a look of hopelessness, then a glint in Fred’s eye sparked one in George’s as he assumed they were thinking of a revenge plot against The Pink Toad.

“Now, back to your dormitory,” George heard Umbridge’s sickeningly sweet voice say from across the corridor.

“Cunt,” he heard Raven’s voice swear at the teacher. George immediately stood upright and headed toward the voices.

“That’s another month’s detention, Miss Barrie.”

“In that case, get fucked, you hag,” Raven spat back.

George rushed over to Raven and pulled her away before Umbridge’s head exploded in anger and she cursed Raven right then.

“Come on, she’s not worth it,” George muttered in her ear. The pair nearly ran past Fred and the boy and once they were a safe distance away, George stopped and looked at Raven. Her face had been bloodied and he could see bruises forming around her eyes, and her lips had a few gashes and were swollen.

“Merlin’s beard, what happened in there?” George said.

“She wanted information, I told her no. She didn’t like that, so after a few punches from Draco and a torture curse or two, she decided detention for a month with her quills would be better,” Raven said. “Is my nose ring still intact? Mum thought it was nice on me.”

George looked at her nose and saw a small jewel still in its rightful place on her nostril. His eyes welled up with tears. “Yeah, it’s still there. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Ven… I wanted to protect you, but I may have made it worse.”

“No, I think I was the one who made it worse, George. Thank you for trying, though,” Raven said.

“You know, George, I think our talents lie outside the realm of academic achievement,” Fred said as he approached the pair with his head down. He then saw Raven’s condition once he looked up. “Bloody hell…”

“You know, Fred, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing,” George said with a grin.