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#plus size main character
colorsunimaginable · 2 years
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the spare // chapter fifteen // darkwizard!tomhiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au
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story summary: While one a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord’s triumph, she’s being sold at an auction with other muggleborns and bloodtraitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy’s younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance’s greatest weapons? *a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist*
words for this chapter: 4k
warnings for this chapter: none
CHAPTER MASTERLIST
Chapter Fifteen:
In the morning, I wake to the sun beaming onto my face, right over my eyes. My legs stretch out and I move to turn away from the light, but I realize I can’t. Somehow during the night, Thomus and I had shifted until we were spooning. The front of him is pressed intimately up against my back, even his legs were fitted behind mine. The only thing that makes this more cliché is his arm around my waist, but instead of classically cupping a boob, he’s got a firm hold on my stomach.
It honestly really surprises me. In the past, the guys I’ve almost slept with have just politely avoided my ample belly. Especially where it seamlessly connects to my fupa – a term I’d come to know during my time at a No-Maj college. To have Thomus, undoubtedly one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen in my life, hold it like it was nothing, makes my heart pound.
The sunlight must have reached him as well because I feel him stir behind me. His grip on my waist tightens and he somehow pulls me closer. This brings to my attention something hard rubbing along my ass. Oh fuck. He must not actually be awake yet. Awake Thomus would not be doing this.
I grab his wrist and lift it enough to turn onto my back under the covers. So instead of being pressed into my butt, his length is being pressed into my hip. My bare hip only covered by the scrap of undies I had chosen the night before. The dress must have ridden up while I slept. I’m also alarmed by the cool air hitting my chest, specifically my nipple peeking out from under the corner of the neckline. My eyes are on his face so I see when his flutter open and squint at me under the sunlight. Quickly, I shove my boob back under the dress.
I can see the moment reality hits him. He lifts his head, his eyes going from my face down to how we were positioned. They widen ever so slightly when he realizes what he has pressed against me. Then that face is quickly replaced by his usual frown as he pushes himself away from me. I stay hidden under the covers and curl onto my side facing him as he sits on the edge of the bed.
He leans on his elbows, rubbing his face in his hands. I think I hear the word “fuck” as he heavily sighs. He doesn’t give me a second glance before he leaves through the bathroom door, shutting it behind him. I hear the shower kick on.
Ah, great. Another moment spent with me he can add to the Regretä list. I sigh and reposition myself in bed, settling in for more sleep.
For once it’s nice to feel… well I’m definitely depressed, but I’m not on the verge of breaking down like I was before. I know what happened last night, but when I try to think of specifics, I just can’t remember them. If only he could do the same for my encounter with Bellatrix. Maybe it would stop the nightmares and I wouldn’t have to rely on sleeping in his bed – or with him for that matter – to get some decent rest.
It's also a great relief to not have to hide what happened. Thomus knows. I don’t have to go through this alone. Though based on the way he reacted to waking up in bed with me, I doubt he’ll be so willing to let me find comfort in his arms again any time soon.
When I wake up, changing into a hoodie and some shorts, Thomus is gone. I walk around the house, looking for shit to do, but find nothing. Breakfast – though it’s early afternoon at this point – is still warm on the table. Next to the tea is the magic suppression potion.
I grab the vial and I dump it down the sink. He’s not here to force me to take it, so how’s he going to know? However, as soon as I put the empty vial on the counter top, it fills back up again. Fine, whatever, there it’ll sit forever on the counter until Thomus makes me take it.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, I consume the buttered toast in seconds. I use tea to wash it down. A loud, high-pitched bird-like wail comes directly from the vial on the counter. I finish the cup of tea, intent on ignoring the noise. I keep eating, but with every minute that passes, the wailing just gets louder.
I try to ignore it, I really do. But after nearly ten minutes, I take the vial, open the door to the backyard and chuck it as far as I can into the garden. The wailing echoes as it flies over the garden wall along the forest. Satisfied, I turn back inside, only to get assaulted by the noise once again, because the vial had returned to the counter, this time louder than ever.
“Fine!” I fume out loud, scooping it up into my hand. The wailing stops the moment the vial touches my lips. What an annoying fucking bastard.
After I finish breakfast/lunch, I feel lethargic. It’s been a while since I’ve had a belly full of food. It’s the first time in days since I’ve felt remotely hungry. I curl up on the couch with my book again, and manage to get through a few chapters before my eyelids get heavy.
~*~
When I wake, the evening sky is pink and purple behind the dark blue clouds, and draws my eyes from where I lay on the couch. It makes me go out and sit on the patio, watching the sky until it fades to black behind the trees.  
I get uncomfortable sitting outside in the dark, listening to the evening cicadas. My thoughts start to drift, and I just sit in the patio chair staring at the yellow porch light reflecting off the glass table. The box with Montague’s name on it rattles violently in my mind. One of the memories that didn’t get locked away manifests itself on my body in a phantom touch. Kisses on my neck, hands grasping for me like they would never get to again.
I wrap my arms tightly across my middle, hunched over in the seat, my eyes squeezed tightly shut. I want to say that the memory is unpleasant. The only reason it makes my breath catch and my heart palpitate with longing is because I see Thomus.
But… I know that can’t be right. Maybe my memories got mixed up and they’re blurring together now. Maybe I’m thinking of when we returned from Edinburgh the first time.
After what feels like a long while, I go back inside. I retrieve the record player from the office, where I’d last left it, and find something new to listen to. I find yet another Disney vinyl. It just says classics, nothing about if it’s the original recording or not. Damn, for not having a TV, Mary sure did love Disney music. Not that I’m complaining, the music will always have a chokehold on me.
I set the record player upstairs and crank it. I hope that a shower will wash away the feeling of hands on me. Midway through, after washing my hair, I decide a bubble bath would be more relaxing. So I change the faucet, pull back the curtain, and sit while waiting for it to fill up with water and bubbles. The tub is surprisingly big for how small the bathroom is. I can comfortably sit back with the water line coming just below the tops of my shoulders.
When I shut the water off, the music plays louder and more clear from my room. I close my eyes, relaxing in the warm water, and begin to sing along to the song playing, Let’s Go Fly a Kite. A few more songs play, luckily ones that I know, so my voice doesn’t stop, enjoying the echo off the tile in the bathroom.
That is until Thomus bangs on the bathroom door from his side, startling me to the fucking moon.
“You almost done in there?” comes his voice. “I’ve gotta take a fucking piss.”
“No,” I respond. “Wait your turn.”
“I’ve been waiting.”
“Should’ve gotten a house with more than one bathroom then!” I smile to myself, knowing that probably pissed him off.
My smile instantly disappears when I hear my bedroom door swing open. My hands arms fly to my boobs, and I sink under the bubbles, my knees surfacing. “Get out!”
He barges into the bathroom, not sparing me a glance as he stands above the toilet. “I told you, I’ve got to take a fucking piss and I’m not waiting any longer.” He puts a bottle of something on top of the tank.
I turn my head away, a blush rising to my cheeks when I hear his zipper undo. I glare at the wall across from me. Fuck the way this bathroom is laid out. Out the corner of my eye, I catch movement. He sways a little on his feet, needing to brace a hand on the wall. Is he drunk?
I readjust my arms and the water makes enough noise to make him look. Thomus turns his head away but then does a double take back at me, as if realizing for the first time what I’d actually been doing in here. I feel myself blush even harder. He finishes, zipping himself back up, and goes to wash his hands.
“You forgot to flush!” I call out when he leaves. He also left his bottle. He doesn’t respond and I hear him moving something in my room. The music stops and I sit up, straining my neck to see what the fuck he’s doing.
“Terribly sorry,” he says, coming back into view, dragging the chair I’d had the record player on.
“What’re you – “
He flushes the toilet. “You look like you could use some company,” he says. He places the chair down next to the tub, and grabs the bottle of watermelon schnapps before sitting down.
I can only stare at him in shock and utter indignation at his audacity. He either ignores my look or doesn’t see it when he takes a long drink.
“This stuff’s fucking awful,” he says, making a face. “How do muggles bare it?”
I shrug, exasperated. “Who cares? Get out.”
“What ever for?”
“I’m naked,” I say, stating what I feel should have been obvious.
He throws a hand up. “Oh no, a naked woman. What ever shall I do?”
I blink, stunned. This is probably the most emotion and normal he’s ever acted around me.
“Was that a joke?” I ask.
He lets out a chuckle from deep in his chest. “I do know how to make those sometimes.”
He brings the bottle to his lips for a quick swig, then he offers it to me. My eyes flicker from the bottle to his raised eyebrows.
You know what? Fuck it. I slide down under the water more to ensure I don’t bare anything when I raise my right arm above the foamed bubbles to grab the liquor. I’ve no idea what he’s talking about. This watermelon schnapps is to die for. There isn’t that much left in the bottle, so I chug it. When I come up for air, a loud burp escapes my mouth.
My eyes fly to him and there’s a beat before I let out a straight up laugh. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to hold back a grin. I hand the empty bottle back.
He’s looking at me with a hint of a smile at his lips. “I think this calls for another.” He stands, going through to his room. “Now, this is the good stuff,” he says when he comes back. He brandishes a golden bottle and two whiskey glasses. He sets the glasses on the vanity, and uncorks the bottle, pouring. “Dragon Barrel Brandy. Gold standard. Aged 150 years.”
“So it’s gonna taste like shit?” I say, already feeling the warmth spreading in my belly.
“Yes, probably,” he says. “But it’s sure to get you drunk as a boiled owl.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask as he hands me a glass, our fingers brushing.
He sits heavily. “No idea. My brother, Lucius, said it to me once, and it’s one of those phrases you don’t quite forget.”
I bring the drink to my lips, and take the smallest of sips while I see him take a much larger one. He keeps a straight face while mine scrunches up.
“That’s disgusting,” I say. I clear my throat to help with the burn, then take another longer sip. He brings his ankle up to rest on his knee and sits back, balancing his glass on his thigh. His eyes bounce around the room.
“How are you?” he asks after a moment.
I snort. “Better than you. You’re the one that came home drunk.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He stares at me and I see dark circles under his eyes, a frown appearing. I keep the whiskey glass close to my chest. Neither of us seem to want to answer. At least the alcohol is relaxing my nerves somewhat.
“So,” I start slowly, “Lucius is Draco’s father.”
“Yes.”
“Draco’s a bit… older than I’d expect. How old were you when he was born?”
He considers for a moment, doing the math. “Fourteen,” he answers.
That makes me stop. Why have I never thought about it before? “Wait, how old are you now?”
“Thirty-two.”
“So is Lucius a lot older than you?”
“Only by ten years,” he says. “What’s with the interrogation?”
I press my lips together, feeling embarrassed. “I, um, I’m just trying to understand. You and Draco seem close, that’s all.”
He takes a drink. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Like what?”
He pauses. “How did you get caught up in all this?”
“Well, I was stabbed and kidnapped.”
He puts his foot down and leans forward. Elbows on his knees, he rolls the glass between his palms, serious eyes concentrated on it. “Not what I meant.”
Thomus looks up at me when I don’t respond, and I quickly avert my gaze to the dark window above the tub, half afraid he’d use Legillimency on me to get the truth. I bring the glass to my lips and swallow the rest of the brandy in one gulp. He picks up the bottle from its place on the floor and refills my glass.
“After I graduated college, I didn’t really know what to do with myself,” I begin, carefully picking out my sentences before I speak. I’d become good at telling white lies. I could always twist the truth into what I needed it to be. Like when Voldemort searched through my memories, or even now, when I find myself wanting to be honest with him, for him to know me. The truth is just going to be an Auntie Anne pretzel. I keep my eyes on the window as I speak. “I found an internship opportunity at the Daily Prophet, which naturally, made me privy to a lot of information about the war. Even after Thicknesse took over.”
“How did you get involved with the Order?” he asks when I pause a moment too long.
I shrug. “Just met the right people I suppose.”
“Who?” he asks. Now who’s being interrogated?
I decide to answer anyway, he’d probably start thinking I’m lying if I don’t. “They’re dead,” I lie, lightly shaking my head and looking down into my glass. “So it doesn’t really matter.”
When I look back at him, his eyes are on the bubbles in the tub, but his face is blank, like he’s not really seeing. My eyes follow his, making sure nothing can be seen through the bubbles. I shift, causing the water to ripple, and his eyes are brought back to my face.
I raise my eyebrows. “Anything else?”
His eyes travel upward, to my wet hair and they stop at the ends of it on my shoulders. His head tilts curiously. “Why do you have pink hair?”
I snort. “Easy. It makes me happy. Next question.”
“Is it magic?” he asks, reaching out and touching the clump of it near my neck. The heat from the alcohol in my stomach travels up to my cheeks when I feel his fingers brushing my skin as he studies the strands.
“Not entirely,” I manage to say through my blush. “I, um, use muggle products to get it the color I want, and then lather in a Hair Stay potion. It makes the color stay vibrant and last longer than it would without.”
“I don’t think we have that here,” he says.
“Oh yeah, no, I can’t get it in the UK. Before I left I ordered a bunch from the catalogue to bring with me.”
“Where’s it now?”
“In my vault at Gringotts,” I answer honestly, then reconsider, raising an eyebrow at him. “Assuming that it’s still mine.”
His eyes flicker to mine and he drops my hair, drying his fingers off on his thigh. “Of course it’s still yours,” he says, sounding offended. “What makes you think it’s not?”
My other eyebrow raises, and I blink at him. “Bro did you, like, forget that real actual money was exchanged for you to own me?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
I look at him, confused. “Well, wouldn’t that mean you have access to it?”
“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admits.
“Great,” I say sardonically and take a drink. “My turn.”
“For what?” he scoffs, sitting back in his chair.
“To interrogate you.”
He shakes his head. “No, no. I wasn’t interrogating you. We’re just having a conversation.”
I narrow my eyes at him over the rim of the glass and tease, “Yeah, that’s just what an interrogator would say.”
He upends the bottom of his glass and begins to refill it. “Ask away.”
“How come we live here and not at Malfoy Manor?”
Thomus rolls his eyes and sighs heavily. “This again?”
“Your answers were extremely vague.”
“That was intentional,” he says. “Why the fascination?”
“Because,” I say, shifting again. The water is beginning to get cold, but luckily the bubbles are still intact. “It just doesn’t make sense why you would choose to live here when you could be there.”
“It wasn’t really a choice I made,” he says. “I had to leave.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice quiet, eager to hear more.
He runs a hand through his hair, sighing again. “Because of a choice I did make.” I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. “You’re familiar with Bellatrix Lestrange, are you not?” My breath freezes in my chest, then sputters back to life, shallower than before. “I believe you call her my ‘girlfriend’.” He uses his fingers to make air quotes at the word.
I bite my bottom lip and nod slightly.
He stares down into his drink. “She is married. Has been for quite some time.” I see his jaw tick. The alcohol no longer relaxing him during this line of questioning. “The first time my brother discovered us, he merely gave me a warning. The second time he wasn’t so forgiving.”
His grip on the glass is tight as he takes a drink. I do the same.
“So, you can never go back?” I ask.
He chuckles dryly. “No. I can come and go as I please. I just can’t live there.”
“And, why this place?”
“The muggle living here had been caught in a skirmish, so her residence was empty and available,” he says. Poor Mary. My hearts aches for her. “I bought it off the man who killed her. It didn’t really matter that this was a muggle home. I just needed somewhere to keep you.”
“I see,” I respond. The water is cold now, and I shiver. He notices, and pulls out his wand. I watch apprehensively as he taps the tub with the tip of his wand and the water warms. I didn’t realize how tense my shoulders were until the heat relaxes my muscles. “Thanks,” I say.
“Is that all your questions?” he says.
“Mmm,” I say, thinking. “Why is there such an age gap between you and your brother?”
He sighs heavily, taking another drink. I must’ve found another sensitive topic. Surprisingly, he doesn’t hold back. “Lucius was terribly sick as a child. To the extent that doctors told our father that he wouldn’t last the winter.” Thomus’s eyes stare off somewhere, dazed again. “So, in an exemplary act of self-preservation, father decided to have an affair with my mother to create another heir.” He stops talking.
“But he lived,” I prompt.
“Yes, he lived,” he continues, bitterness dripping off his tongue. “And I became my father’s bastard. The extra Malfoy. The spare.” He chugs the rest of his glass and abruptly stands. “Alright, enough talking.”
“Oh, okay,” I say quietly, bringing the glass to my mouth. No sooner had I finished the last of my drink, was he taking the glass out of my hand and disappearing into his room.
I breathe a sigh of relief to be alone again. I wait a few minutes to make sure he’s gone before getting out and drying off. The hand that had been under the water the entire time to hide my arm is pruney.
Admittedly, I feel the alcohol a lot more when I’m standing and moving around. It takes a couple tries to slip on some underwear while remaining balanced. I need to drink some water or I’m going to have the worst headache in the morning. With my hoodie back on, I make my way downstairs to the kitchen, gripping the wall and the railing for support.
Thomus is already in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water. Were his shoulders always so wide? He hands me one when I enter, and I lean against the counter taking large gulps, my eyes closed. Mostly to force myself to stop looking at him.
“Don’t you have any fucking pants?” he asks, his voice irritated and quite loud. Maybe I’m feeling the headache already. He’s already walking towards the door.
“Oh, shit,” I say, realizing I just have my hoodie and undies on. It’s already covering my butt and stomach, but it still fell just shy of the tops of my thighs. I blush and yank the hem down further. “Sorry.”
So focused on making sure I’m covered, I don’t realize he’s still in the doorway when I try to leave. My balance already awful from the alcohol, my feet were very ready to let me fall as I bump into him. Before I do, he quickly catches me around the waist, holding me steady against him. My hand goes to his shoulder as my brain catches up with my body and I look up.
His flushed face is nearly a breath apart from mine. I stare wide-eyed, lips parted in a gasp. My mind zeros in on how I’m practically naked, no bra, no pants, just a hoodie and broken dreams, being held flush against him. I could melt from how strong he feels. The hand at my waist grabs a fistful of the hoodie. His eyes are intense as they take in my face from the wet, curled hair framing my face down to my mouth. His other hand comes up, fingers gliding over my cheek, and his nostrils flare slightly from the deep breaths he’s taking. Even drunk, I can tell his mask has slipped a bit.
He sighs heavily. “You’re going to get me in so much trouble,” he speaks low. Not quite a whisper, but the husky tone sends shivers down my spine.
Then he releases me as quickly as he grabbed me, and goes upstairs to his room.
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rav3nmuse · 1 year
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Debu to Love to Ayamachi to //
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jrjresq · 2 months
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How come you never draw plus size/overweight people?? you’re always drawing the same few wolves over and over again, as a plus size person, I’d love to see more of my body type instead of the same lean muscular body type, just asking.
as a plus sized person i would also love it when people don't passive aggressively ask me to draw plus sized characters
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bmpmp3 · 2 months
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yumeko..........................................................i gotta catch up on this manga
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chubbymc · 1 year
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💜First of all, let’s get this out of the way!! 💜
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Main Character:
For the most part, they will present gender neutral unless stated/asked otherwise!! (They/Them)
They are chubby!! (This blog wouldn’t exist if they weren’t!!)
They may also be referred to as plus-size!! (I just think Chubby made a cuter blog name >//< haha! Please don’t refrain from asking for plus-size scenarios!! I encourage it!!)
Feel free to ask of any scenarios or interactions between the boys and MC! (SFW only please!! >//< As the blog writer I’m Asexual and don’t really like writing NSFW…sorry!!)
Also feel free to make scenarios as short or as detailed as you may wish!! (I will pick the ones that pique my interest the most!! >//< make them as personal as you may want too!! for example: MC having wardrobe malfunctions and all that jazz!! >//<)
Terms I will be using!! TBR: Stands for “The Boys React:” and MCR: Stands for “MC Reacts:”
And finally… ASK ARE OPEN!! Don’t be shy!!
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💜Have a wonderful day!!💜
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superstarmew · 8 months
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som art of a Fredbears Waiter character I made called Beth! She's so fun to draw gorsh.. >w<
she was made for a fnaf fanfic that I never wrote
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fluffyhawksvalkyrie · 3 months
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Debufuto concepts
Mostly for kokoe ponytails designs.
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maddie-grove · 4 months
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I rewatched The Butterfly Effect a couple weeks ago (or, rather, watched it all the way through for the first time because it was always on cable when I was a teen but I only saw it in pieces), and (a) it’s pretty solid (I really dislike it in terms of the messages it sends but I found it compelling), (b) I’m not surprised that it was critically panned (Goofy Sitcom Actor/TV Prankster in ACEs: the Movie would have been a hard sell at any time, but the mid-2000s was maybe the worst possible time), and (c) I’m surprised it made so much money (it’s so relentlessly depressing and everyone seemed to hate it so much at the time).
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crvstybowlofcereal · 4 months
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We do need to acknowledge that The Owl House probably wouldn't have taken off the way it did without Lumity, but some people Also have to acknowledge its still a beautifully written story with diverse representation and complex themes that are helpful for its viewers, even if you were to remove Lumity.
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traumadumpling · 9 months
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Currently reading: Electric Idol by Katee Robert
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I'm halfway through and I am eating this shit uP. I love a good fake relationship trope. I love a good enemies to lovers thing. A grumpy one soft for the sunshine one.
AND A PLUS SIZE MAIN CHARACTER? 🔥🔥🔥
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novorehere · 2 years
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Can I make some fanart of your sheep plz???
Absolutely!! I just want to be very clear though, I do not own the sheep avatar, nor did I design it 😅 It’s literally the official main character from O/bey me. The plush I have is official merch. Lots of people use it as their “avatar” so to speak!
Just wanted to let everyone who isn’t familiar with the franchise know :)
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colorsunimaginable · 2 years
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the spare // chapter fourteen // darkwizard!tomhiddleston x plus size ofc - voldemort wins au
story summary: While one a mission to avenge the death of her best friend, Ilvermorny graduate Melisa Alder finds herself in the middle of the fight to defeat Voldemort. Upon capture after the Dark Lord’s triumph, she’s being sold at an auction with other muggleborns and bloodtraitors. Her only hope is also her only bidder - the tall, dark, and handsome Thomus Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy’s younger half-brother. Is he just another Death Eater or is he hiding more than just his face beneath the mask? Will she realize her true potential to be one of the resistance’s greatest weapons? *a Voldemort Wins AU with Tom Hiddleston cast as an OC x a plus size protagonist*
words for this chapter: 5.1k
warnings for this chapter: ORAL RAPE OF POV CHARACTER, PLEASE BE ADVISED
CHAPTER MASTERLIST
Chapter Fourteen:
Edinburgh hasn’t much changed in the last week. The Apparition point in the shopping district still looks abandoned and desolate. As we climb the hill toward the castle, it seems like the lights I could see in the distance before have been snuffed out. There’s only the barest hint of light pollution, miles and miles away.
This makes the stars extremely bright, especially with the sky being so clear. I pause a time or two, unable to keep from looking up. Then I have to quickly catch up with Thomus, who’s long strides are already difficult to casually keep up with. At the barrier limit, he has to grab my arm again.
Inside the castle, the party is already bumping. Thomus fearlessly dives into the thick crowd and I have to grab the crook of his elbow so I don’t lose him as it swallows us whole. He doesn’t pay me any mind and allows the contact, pulling me to follow closer.
“Malfoy!” bellows a handsome dark-haired man. I’m getting flashbacks to last week already. Thomus brings us to a stop at a group of suited men. One of them looks familiar, but I can’t remember from where.
“Jacob Astor!” Thomus says spiritedly, full of charm. A version of him I haven’t seen before. He drops my arm to embrace the man with loud claps on the back. “Haven’t seen you since Venice.”
Jacob Astor laughs. “Yeah, well, we’re divorced now. Owled the papers last week.” He has an American accent.
“I hope she signed a prenup,” Thomus jokes. They’ve parted, and Thomus holds out his arm for me again. I wordlessly take it with both hands, holding it against my chest.
“Damn right she did,” Astor smiles. He steps back and nods to the other men he’s standing with. “You’ve met Goldman, right?”
“Kyle, a pleasure to see you again.”
“This is Eric Roosevelt, a buddy of mine from Merlin U.” Merlin University? All I knew about the place is that it’s a college for rich people after they attended Ilvermorny. There were only a handful of people from my year that I knew of who had planned to go. Also, Roosevelt? As in Teddy? The President? Alice Roosevelt was the real household name among American wizards. She was an amazingly accomplished witch who broke barriers of sexism and No-Maj/Wizard relations in the community.
Astor motions to the last man in the group, the one whose face I can’t place. “And this is Will Hoffman, a fresh-faced grad from our frat,” he says. I vaguely remember Hoffman’s name from my year at Ilvermorny. If I knew him once, I don’t anymore. The last time I saw him, he still had a baby face. Now his jaw is almost as sharp as Thomus’s. I doubt he even knew of my existence, let alone my name.
Thomus shakes their hands. “Delighted to meet you both.”
Unfortunately, Astor brings his eyes to me. “We heard you’d nabbed one of ours,” he says. He raises a judgmental eyebrow as he appraises me. I grit my teeth and try to keep my face blank. “A shame she’s not a better representation of what America has to offer.”
Before I get a chance to glare at him, Thomus chuckles. “Not everyone gets a chance to shag Isobel O’Quinn.” I want to snort. Isobel O’Quinn, while I’m sure is lovely, is simply famous for being a stunningly beautiful witch with a moderate singing voice… at least in my opinion.
“Definitely not the reason for his divorce,” Eric Roosevelt says, snickering into his drink.
Astor ignores the comment. “Didn’t you say she was in your year at Ilvermorny, Will?”
My chest tightens. Oh shit. Well, what’s he going to do? There’s nothing from my time at Ilvermorny that I’m afraid of getting out.
“Yeah, that pink hair’s kinda hard to forget,” Will says. Then his eyes drop down to my thighs. “If I’d have known back then she was such a slut, I definitely would’ve gotten to know her better.”
Thomus chuckles darkly. “Your loss was my gain.” He drops my arm and slides his around my waist. I nearly jump when I feel his other hand tugging my jaw so our faces nearly meet. All I can do is stare wide-eyed as he takes in my face, hunger in his eyes. God, he’s so handsome. My lips part and his eyes are drawn to the movement. When he looks back up at me, his mask has switched. He gives a nasty smirk and pulls away.
“Isn’t it funny?” he says mockingly, his hand now fully gripping my jaw as he turns my head to face them. “How she just can’t hide how much she wants to get fucked.” My eyes close from shame as I feel his breath at my ear. “It’s my favorite part.” They all laugh and he releases me.
If making me feel bad was his goal, he certainly succeeded. I’m sure the pain is written all over my face. I press my lips tightly together, forcing myself to frown instead of cry. Why couldn’t he be charming with me? Where is that sweet version of him that I couldn’t bear to trust when he tried his best to comfort me? What’s real?
“You ever let others borrow her?” I hear someone say and I open my eyes.
“Throw in a considerably large bag of Galleons and I might consider it.”
What kind of game is Thomus playing? He won’t even touch me in private and he’s saying he’ll pimp me out to members of this stupid boys club? I honestly want to smack him.
“What was her going price at the auction?” Kyle Goldman asks. “Jacob and I wanted to attend, but when we heard bidding was exclusive to you Brits we were pretty bummed.”
Charlotte, in a sleek black dress, appears next to me with a tray of full glasses. She smiles at the men and switches out their empty tumblers. Before Thomus can object, I take the strongest looking drink and shoot it down. I keep my eyes on him as I do this, enjoying the burn of the drink down my throat and the burn of his seething gaze. I place the empty glass back on the tray, smiling gratefully at Charlotte, before brazenly sticking my tongue out at Thomus.
“I bought her for 5,000 Galleons,” he bites out after Charlotte leaves, his grip stiff around my waist. “Though clearly I was over-charged.” The men in the circle snicker.
“From my experience it’s the feisty ones that love being punished,” Eric pipes up. “You remember Louisa Ashton?”
“That bitch you always fought with?” Will says. “How could we forget?”
“Yeah no, she loved getting tied up and spanked. Begged me for it.”
As Eric continues talking, I feel someone brush heavily against my back as they pass through. A hand, who I know definitely doesn’t belong to Thomus, feels along my ass. I look over my shoulder to glare at whoever it was and see it’s Montague. He pauses ever so briefly behind Thomus, smirking, and throws a wink at me before disappearing into the tight crowd. My eyes go to Thomus’s face. He’s still laughing at tales of Roosevelt’s sex life, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t notice a thing.
“I bet Alder enjoys your punishments, Malfoy,” Astor laughs. I look down, ignoring the heat building in my face. “Looks like she’s thinking about it right now.”
As they’re about to laugh at me again, I say, “Actually I was thinking about how much I have to pee.” I turn out of Thomus’s grip. He gives me a warning look as I head in the direction of the bathrooms. I hear Astor say some remark, and Thomus’s laughter rises above everyone else’s.
~*~
The hallway with the bathrooms is mostly empty and I breathe a sigh of relief to be alone. I didn’t really have to pee, I just wanted to get away from the assholes, Thomus included. I hang out in a stall for as long as I think I can get away with it before heading back into the now fully empty hallway.
As I pass by a door with a dark room, I’m grabbed by the elbow and pulled inside. Before I can make a sound, lips crash into mine and I’m pushed against a wall. All I could see before my vision was obstructed is that this person is wearing a black suit with no tie. The shadowed outline of his head against the light still spilling in through the door, tells me he has curly hair. Is this… Thomus?
His entire body is pressed firmly against mine, his hands quickly travelling back and forth from my breasts to my ass. The kiss is rough, open mouthed with almost too much tongue getting acquainted with my lips. His touch is hurried, like he’s afraid we’re going to get caught. If this is the only moment Thomus is going to give me, then I’ll take it. Being touched by someone - even if they’re the biggest asshole in the world - as if I’m desirable is a feeling I’ve never been able to resist. I can hate myself later.
My lips become pliant against his and my hands go from hovering to his shoulders. They run up the side of his neck and into his hair. As my fingers thread into his curls, I’m confused by what I feel. I have to fight through my mind’s fuzzy desire to concentrate on what I’m feeling. The curls aren’t soft and lush. They’re course, dry and thin. Who the fuck –
My fingers, the touch once delicate, balls his hair into a fist and yanks back. He makes a strangled cry as his face gets tilted into the light. It’s fucking Montague.
Angrily I shove him with as much force as I can muster. He stumbles back, a hand rubbing the back of his head.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” I almost yell, panting from shock. “How fucking dare you?”
He smiles disbelievingly at me, a hand disappearing into an inside pocket of his jacket. He pulls out his wand. “You’re just angry because you liked it.”
I shake my head, turning for the door. “Absolutely not! I – “
“Imperio.”
The weight of all the anger and shock dissipates in my mind and chest, stopping me in my tracks. The emptiness left in its place swells inside of me like a balloon and I feel like I’m floating. My shoulders and face relaxes as the tension melts away. Am I feeling… happy? I can’t remember why I was unhappy before.
Come here, comes a voice. I can’t tell where the voice is coming from – in the room or in my head – so I turn and spot Montague. A giggle comes out of my mouth as I see a corner of his mouth is smeared with my dark berry lipstick. His hands grasp my waist and pull me close, his lips placing soft kisses on my neck. I giggle once more and hum contentedly at the pleasant feeling.
His mouth finds mine again, and my fingers go to their favorite place twisted in his curls. We don’t kiss for long, because the voice I now recognize as Montague is in my head telling me to get on my knees. As I sit and wait patiently for him to unbuckle his belt, a familiar handsome face tries to manifest itself in the back of my mind. It’s not Montague, it’s Thomus. I wonder where he is. I hope I get to see him soon.
A fleshy object pokes at my mouth and obediently I let it inside. His voice in my mind tells me to suck and I feel a fist clench the hair at the side of my head to hold me still. It begins to move in and out and my mind goes numb as his becomes distracted by what he’s feeling. Too distracted to fully focus the unforgivable curse, but not enough to release me from the spell entirely. The happy, elated feeling is gone. I am just a body, I am just an orifice, I am just no one.
The man and his object hold still in my mouth after a while. As he finishes, the curse lifts, and my mind digs itself out of the hole that the Imperious Curse had buried it in. Panic, fear, and disgust replace the emptiness that had inhabited it only moments before. Clarity makes me pull away, bracing myself on my hands as I vomit on the stone floor. Clarity reminds me where I am and what had just happened. Clarity reminds me who I am.
Stomach empty, my body repeatedly dry heaves until I’m yanked to my feet mid-heave. This makes me choke and I have to cough forcefully to release whatever is trapped in my airway, tears streaking down my face. Montague uses a handkerchief to wipe at my mouth, removing the vomit and I imagine what remains of my lipstick. He runs his fingers hastily through where he’d fisted my hair. I’m forcing deep breaths, trying to concentrate on not gagging some more when he turns me away from him to the door.
I feel his mouth at my ear. “Under better circumstances, I’d want you to remember this,” he whispers. “But I don’t need you running off and telling Malfoy on me. It’s going to be our little secret forever.” The tip of his wand presses into the back of my head. “Confundo. Now run along to your master.”
Then unceremoniously I’m shoved back out into the hallway. I have to pause a moment. Why was I here? Oh right. The bathroom. I think I’ve already gone. There’s a bad taste in my mouth. I wonder if Thomus is looking for me. Run along to your master.
My feet carry me in the direction of the Great Hall. When I reenter, I pause, searching the crowd for his familiar face and hair. I spot bright, almost white blond hair first. Draco Malfoy. He’s standing with Thomus and his American friends. Will from school is still there. I wonder if he remembers the year we had a Sasquatch teach potions.
No one sees me approach. I stand between Thomus and Draco. My hands go back to where they were, wrapped around Thomus’s strong arm. It feels so nice to be near him again.
“There she is!” someone says, I think his name is Astor. “We thought you got lost.”
“We were about to send out a search party for you,” comes Thomus’s voice, light and teasing.
“I’m sorry,” I say as I turn my face up to look at him. I watch as his face changes from gentle humor to concern, making his eyebrows come together and the corners of his mouth tip down into a frown. Is it really concern? Concern for what? He turns his body to me and grabs my head in both of his long warm hands, his eyes bouncing all over my face.
“What happened to her knees?” Will asks. Thomus steps back a moment to take in the rest of me. My brows furrow in confusion. I look down and see my stockings are torn at the knees, my skin there lightly scraped.
“Hm, I must’ve fallen.” My voice sounds strange.
He tilts my face back up towards him. His gaze is intense as he searches my confused face. The longer he looks, the deeper his frown gets, as if he’s not at all happy with what he sees. A thumb brushes along my bottom lip.
I’m already looking into his pretty blue eyes when they meet mine and I feel the strength of his Legillimency. I don’t have any magic, so there’s no Occlumency to stop him from entering my mind like it’s a house he’s lived in all his life. He quickly finds the recent memories that have been hidden and bewitched by the Confundus Charm. Waiting around in the bathroom stall. Being pulled into a dark room and kissed. I feel his confusion and shock at seeing his own face in this memory. I’m a little fuzzy on who I’d kissed, and I remember thinking about Thomus, but I definitely wasn’t kissing him.
Then other memories resurface. Me on my knees, an emotionless doll being used for oral sex, vomiting. Specific feelings, like the stone floor painfully digging into my skin, my nose getting shoved into pubic hair, the lightheadedness from lack of air because of the abuse my throat was taking, come front and center. Quickly going from the Imperious Curse to the Confundus Charm prevented me from being fully present to experience it in real time. I’d basically been given a pat on the back and shoved out into the hallway, meant to pretend nothing happened.
I don’t need to be in his head to feel his barely contained rage as he rewatches these moments. His frustration is palpable when he can’t find a face besides his own. He pulls out earlier memories. My eyes trained to the sky upon our ascent to the castle, the way my chest tightened when he got in my face to make a joke at my expense, Montague’s wink.
Montague’s wink. He rewinds the memory, examining it closer. Looking at it repeatedly, the brush against my back seems intentional. The wink beyond Thomus’s gaze taunting. Thomus lingers on his own face as I did, how oblivious he had been.
Thomus leaves my mind, and I can refocus on the intense anger on his face. His breathing has become quick and shallow, his thumb lightly brushes my cheek as he gazes at me. I worry that I’m the one he’s angry with.
“Is everything alright?” someone asks.
“No.” With a single word, Thomus’s voice and tone conveys his fury. He releases me and steps back, looking at someone behind me. “Don’t let her leave your sight.”
Draco grabs my arm and I look in time to see the confused face he gives his uncle. “What for?”
Thomus doesn’t answer. He turns to his companions and makes his excuses. Then he disappears into the crowd. I try to follow his path with my eyes and eventually see him emerge, heading in the direction of the bathrooms.
“What happened to you?” Will asks. Everyone in the circle has their attention on me. I blanch and look back in the direction of where I last saw Thomus. I don’t want to think about what happened to me.
“Looks like she got a little felt up,” says Jacob Astor. I remember his name now. They continue to talk amongst themselves until a loud bang comes from the hallway Thomus had disappeared in.
The doors bust open as a body gets flown into the room. I see Thomus standing in the doorway and without thinking I rush forward. Instead of holding me back, Draco comes with me, and we stop at the wide circle that had formed around the scene. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Draco pull out his wand, ready to back up his uncle.
I recognize the man on the floor is Montague. He’s panting as he gets to his feet, his hands lacking the safety of a wand. Thomus’s eyes are intense and focused on Montague, mouth almost curled into a snarl. He barely waits before Montague is upright before advancing. Grabbing the collar of Montague’s suit, Thomus slams his fist into his jaw. Blood splatters across the floor and drips from his mouth. The following blows to his eyes, his chin, and ear were just as powerful and damaging.
When Montague can’t keep his head up any more, his face covered with bruises, cuts, and swells, Thomus finally drops him. He straightens his suit and pushes his hair back with his clean hand.
“I would like everyone to know,” he announces to the crowd. He points to the unconscious body on the floor. “That this is what happens when you touch a Lot without payment or permission.” Thomus walks slowly around Montague, staring intently into the faces of his audience, as if daring them to object. “This vermin has shown a blatant disregard for my family and the respect its name demands.” I could hear some murmurs of agreement, but there were also those who shook their heads in disapproval. With the spectacle over, the music and talking quickly resume their volume from before.
As the crowd resumes their party, I stare down at Montague on the floor, his body slumped against the unpolished tile in an undignified way. Even bloody and bruised, his face falls into place in my memories like a missing puzzle piece. Tears blur my vision when I realize Thomus only did this because Montague had damaged something that belonged to him. Defiled his own personal plaything. This retribution for my rape has absolutely nothing to do with me, and everything to do with re-establishing his position of power.
I lose sight of Montague when the crowd breaks the circle and suddenly Thomus is in front of us. He speaks with a low voice to Draco as they exchange possession of my arm. “I’m taking her home and then I’ll be back to help smooth things over.”
I don’t know if Draco nods or not, because I keep my eyes down. I don’t need Thomus to see me crumbling from the weight of it all.
~*~
Green firelight flashes the room briefly as we step into the cottage living space. Thomus clicks on the lamp, then grabs me by the upper arms and pushes me down onto the couch. The unexpected move makes me gasp, my mind regaining feeling. It kind of feels like the blood rushing into a limb after having fallen asleep.
Thomus’s hands on my arms linger for a moment before he straightens and turns away. He doesn’t need to ask what happened. He knows that I was made a fool of. I created a problem that he now has to fix. I made him look weak.
I stare down at my hands in my lap. The only way I’d known it hadn’t been Thomus was simply the feel of his hair. I hate myself for believing it was him, for hoping that it was. I hate that I couldn’t do anything to stop it from happening. I used to be capable. How did I end up here?
My eyes follow his feet as he walks toward the door. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says and then I’m alone.
The sudden quiet, the absence of a presence except my own, all I can hear is my heavy breathing. I squeeze my eyes shut and rub them with my fingers, not caring if I fucked up my makeup. The echo of something getting shoved into my throat, the gagging and tears that followed reminds me that my makeup is fucked up already.
I stand, needing to do something other than sit upset on the couch. Oh, fuck, yeah I know what I need. My feet stumble forward and I drag myself up the stairs to Thomus’s room. I make a beeline for the crate of alcohol under his bed, picking a muggle schnapps that I know I can drink straight out the bottle. Before I even stand, I twist the cap and flick it off, chugging the sickly sweet liquid. I keep going even though there’s soreness in my throat when I swallow. The alcohol hits my empty stomach immediately. When I get to my feet after a few long moments, I have to grab the bedpost to keep from tipping over.
Somehow I make it to my room and instead of collapsing onto the bed, it makes more sense to sit on the floor. I set the bottle down next to my lamp and turn it on. My back against the wall next to my bedside table, I kick off my shoes, and undo the garter belt before shoving the whole thing, stockings and all, off my body entirely. I manage to undo my bra and fling it at the wardrobe. Finding something else to wear is impossible right now, so the dress stays. I grab my bottle, and slide down the wall to the floor. The carpet is thick and comfortable.
I chug my drink some more, as much as I’m able. Then I place it back down, and lower my body to the floor, my right arm behind me, my cheek pressed against the carpet.
~*~
This is how Thomus finds me, who knows how long after. I haven’t slept. My brain has just taken pleasure at giving me a marathon of the best moments of the evening. Now that I’m no longer under any spell, the memories don’t stop. And I thought before was bad. At least it only haunted me while I slept.
“What’re you doing on the floor?” he demands as he enters my room. His voice isn’t loud or angry. Maybe frustrated. I quickly push myself up, cross legged, and I grab the bottle again.
“The floor is grounding,” I reply, bringing the bottle opening to my lips. “It’s a good place to be when I’m overwhelmed.”
I take a long drink and I hear him slowly walk towards me. He kneels, while his hand, knuckles still bruised and busted open, takes the bottle from me. I expect him to put the bottle back, but instead he takes a long drink as well. This surprises me and I finally look at him for the first time since he pummeled his hand into Montague’s face. The black suit jacket is gone, making the blood splattered lightly across his white dress shirt stand out.
He sits on the floor next to me, back to the wall, our shoulders touching. He takes another drink before handing me back the bottle, his forearms coming to rest on his propped up knees. I see his fists clench and unclench.
I don’t know what to say. I’m definitely not going to apologize, and I don’t see him doing that either.
My head falls back against the wall. I close my eyes and bring the bottle to my lips, grimacing when my throat painfully swallows around my drink. It’s a struggle not to gag when the memory relives itself with every swallow.
“He’ll never touch you again,” comes Thomus’s voice in the otherwise quiet room. It’s tight, still full of anger.
I snicker, my eyes still closed. “What makes you think that?”
“I believe you were witness to the damage that was done to his face.”
I laugh again, far more bitter his time. “When you were defending my honor?” I ask in a mock British accent before taking another drink. “Don’t act like that was for my benefit.”
“He needed to be taught a lesson,” he hisses. “To not touch that which doesn’t belong to him.”
My heart thunders in my chest and I breathe a little faster now. There was the admission. It was never what Montague did, it was who he did it to. I think a part of me hoped that the spectacle had been for show. That secretly it was because he cared. But no.
“And here I thought it was to learn the meaning of the word, no,” I say jokingly through the pain in my chest. This just makes everything more painful. The final nail in my coffin for the night. I don’t have the strength to keep it together anymore.
He takes the bottle from me, drinking. “Do you ever not have a smart mouth?”
My lip trembles as I turn my head to smile at him. “Coping mechanism, remember?” Tears begin to slip down my cheeks and I sniffle, looking away.
He shrugs away from the wall, turning to me. I jump a little in shock when his long fingers cover my tight fist resting in my lap. “What else can I do?”
That’s definitely the last thing I ever expected him to say. Who’s he pretending for now? He had sounded almost compassionate. Maybe -
“Can you,” my breath shudders. “Can you take the memories away?” I blink away enough to tears to look at him fully. His expression is closed and unreadable as he gazes back. “I want to know it happened, but I just don’t –“
“I understand.” A hand comes up to cup my cheek, his thumb wiping the wetness away. Our eyes meet and he slips into my mind like before. He gathers up all the memories like they were toys strewn across the floor. He locks them up in a small box simply labeled, Montague, and leaves my mind with the key in his hand.
Relief floods my chest and I can’t stop the silent sob that shakes my shoulders, my head falling into my hands. I don’t realize he’s moved closer until he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. Because of everything that’s happened in the last week, from this to being haunted by Bellatrix, I want to be comforted. Even though it’s him. This nice, compassionate Thomus is the one I want to take solace in. My arms snake around his waist and I press my face into his shoulder as I cry.
He holds me and lets me cry until I stop. I’m reluctant to let go, scared of how I’ll feel when he leaves.
“Can you stay?” I ask, so soft I can barely hear myself.
He rubs my shoulders. “You want me to?” I nod in reply.
“Alright,” he whispers. Shakily, I pull away and stand. He does as well. As I push back the covers and climb into bed, he hesitates.
“What’s wrong?” my quiet voice doesn’t conceal my vulnerability.
“I’ll be right back.” He swiftly disappears through the bathroom, returning a few moments later dressed in a plain white shirt and the dark blue PJ bottoms. Then he climbs in next to me, lying on his back. He motions silently for me to lie next to him. I hesitate a moment too, eyeing him warily. I know I wanted this, but I can’t help but be afraid this is something he’s going to make me regret later.
Thomus looks so inviting, even if his expression is unreadable. I finally give in, curling up into his side, my head on his shoulder, his arm draped down my back. He pulls the blanket up over us, and as he places his battered hand over my balled up one on his chest, I feel my body relaxing in a way it hasn’t for a long time.
“Thank you,” I whisper. My eyelids become too heavy and when they close, I breathe in his intoxicating scent of cedar and pine.
Authors Note: If you've made it this far in my fic, please let me know what you think! Also the biggest thank yous to everyone who likes and reblogs this fic! ❤️
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"the turtles are so cringy and april's not hot anymore guess the tmnt franchise is ruined :("
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desdasiwrites · 1 year
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– Renée Watson, Love Is a Revolution
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bmpmp3 · 2 years
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needed to draw yumeko from debu to love to ayamachi to because she is Very Cute
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navree · 1 year
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Alicent must work out or something, for her to still keep her figure and such after having four kids back to back. Our Queen does Medevial cardio!
If the writers hadn't been trying to push the "being on Rhaenyra's side means you're a feminist and being on Alicent's side means you're for the patriarchy" thing, they could have done something with what GRRM wrote in the book about how Rhaenyra started getting jealous of Alicent for still being "slender and graceful" after having kids even though Rhaenyra never lost all the weight from pregnancy and thus Alicent was considered prettier than her (which also, like, God I hate men, oh no Rhaenyra had multiple kids and no longer isn't as skinny and perfect as she was at fourteen, the horror, shut up). But at least Alicent's doing her exercise regiments and drinking her medieval green juice.
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