#top hat gerald

[aphelea]

who is deader: Oralie or edaline

Oralie.

I think if Edaline died it would feel quite unnecessary. She only really matters to the Neverseen as a way to get to Sophie, and post-Stellarlune I can't really see the Neverseen caring about wasting their efforts on that. So there's no real reason for Edaline to die, plot-wise. Unless she's trying to stop Gisela's conjuring, but again, I don't know why she would be doing that.

Now, Oralie, on the other hand? I love her, but I think she's far more likely to die. Pretty much all of her secrets are known to us and Sophie, so her death wouldn't cause a massive blockage of information. And she would be a pretty good target for Gisela or the Neverseen, being a Councillor and Sophie's mother. (Although I doubt we're going to see a lot of the Neverseen-without-Gisela anymore. Especially with Vespera gone.)

Also, I think it would also be interesting to have Kenric's and Oralie's deaths parallel each other. Just for fun, you know.

[space-salaman]

gerald enjoys some ice cream! 🍨🍦

did you know they use mashed potatoes for ice cream in menu pictures and commercials so it dont melt? doodled this cause i love @Skully_Bonehead (https://x.com/Skully_Bonehead) 's 🐦

~ ~ ~

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[lost-spells]

Doing a hand study, since I’ve been having issues with the hands on my short gaster animation.

Far from done, but the hands are noticeably getting easier to get right.

Decided to have a lil fun with it.

Also, meet my handsome hand son, Gerald.

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖛

summary: Sebastian Sallow should have been a Ravenclaw. (series masterlist)

cw: 6.7k words, career-and-life-choices-related angst, SMUT (18+ ONLY), unprotected af sex, fingering, oral (m. receiving), questionable behavior if he doesn't have a breeding kink, not the ending you deserve but the ending you're gonna get, fem!oc/reader. requests open.

a/n: i'm so blown away by the love for this series. thank you for all the support and kindness you've shown!! unfortunately for everyone, i suck at endings :/ xx laney

“Come on, Seb! If we get there early, we might see the Bloody Baron run Peeves through with his sword again!” the sixth-year trotting past him called over his shoulder as he joined the throng queuing at the Slytherin common room door. Sebastian laughed and waved him on, promising to be down in a minute. Wish I could remember that kid’s name. Oh, well, no sense learning it now. 

Not now, on the night of his final Hogwarts end-of-year feast. When he’d first arrived at Hogwarts, he hadn’t been any taller than the runt who was currently getting trampled through the door by the gargantuan Gerald Gillooly. He turned his head away from them and caught sight of himself in the aged and spotty floor-length mirror that was at the top of the staircase he stood on. He was surprised not to see that runty little first-year who’d quietly begged his sister to hold his hand while they watched their peers get sorted by a smelly old hat. He had cleared six feet over a year ago without stopping, and the man who blinked back at him looked older and more haggard than he felt. Perhaps that came with the territory when you’d done what he’d done. 

This thought made him pause, one foot in mid-air ready to step down the stairs and join his classmates. What if he was aging more rapidly because of what he’d done to his uncle? Could the guilt he was carrying around, though he had thought it absolved, be etching itself into the lines on his forehead and the corner of his eyes? Would Anne have had something to say about the dark circles under his eyes? His shoulders sagged a little at the thought, although a sad smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how broad they had gotten. His Slytherin robes were beginning to pull at the ankles and wrists, but Sebastian never could justify a flighty purchase like robe tailoring when there was so little time left to wear them. 

So little time. Months left at Hogwarts had dwindled down to a few weeks, and his counseling meeting the previous Monday with his head of house had solidified the warbling jelly of nerves in his gut.

“So, Mr. Sallow.” Professor Ronen had leaned across his desk, gloved hands crossed beneath his chin. “The purpose of this meeting is to discuss your ambitions outside of your Hogwarts education, as your graduation date is nearing. And, as we belong to the noble house of Salazar Slytherin, ambition is everything. Now, what age are you?”

“Nineteen next month, sir.”

“Excellent.” The Charms professor scribbled on the roll of parchment in front of him. “And what were your highest N.E.W.T. results?”

“Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts, sir.” 

Ronen was ecstatic. “Ah!” He rubbed his hands together and looked at Sebastian with a special glint in his dark eyes. “And what career do you plan to pursue with such skills?”

Uh…

Truth be told, Sebastian had never been able to visualize a career that appealed to him. Lack of ambition, never. But lack of clarity for that ambition? Absolutely. He asked too many questions, over-thought each decision when it had come time to write owls to the Ministry and inquire about job postings. It had paralyzed him to this point, worry about choosing incorrectly and being stuck with a profession he detested gnawing at him from morning ‘till evening. 

Then, as always, she’d been there. Curled up at his feet and happily plotting the layout of her desk in the Department of Mysteries. And maybe whatever the future held wasn’t that nerve-wracking.

“You don’t even know if you’ll have a desk,” Seb had murmured on a rainy night in the Undercroft after his meeting with Ronen, running his hand through her hair while she doodled on the back of an old History of Magic essay and Ominis softly dictated a letter on the other side of the fireplace. She had looked up at him with those great big eyes and laughed.

“Good point. But come on, wouldn’t the Department of Mysteries be perfect for my little Ravenclaw drop-out? It’s all questions, all day.”

“You could stand working with me all day, every day?”

“Another good point.” She twisted her face up and stuck her tongue out at him. I love you. Say it, tell her, tell her now!

Time was definitely running short, for more than landing a career. 

The rest of April, after they’d done something resembling kissing outside the Three Broomsticks, had been…stiff. Tense. They both still refused to acknowledge their rampant attraction to one another, and Sebastian didn’t know how much longer he could take this. To make matters worse, Ominis kept being very pragmatic about the whole situation.

“Is it a good idea to be with a woman who is as equally stubborn as yourself?” he had asked Seb after being debriefed on the events of that fateful evening in Hogsmeade. Sebastian had rolled his eyes.

“Rolling my eyes,” he narrated absently, and Ominis sighed. 

“Sure, don’t listen to me, an objective outsider and the only one in this whole situation who isn’t acting based on pure, insane passion. What could I know?”

“She’s not stubborn about everything,” Sebastian let slip with a grin, the image of her legs locking around his hips and the sound of her moans filling every available inch of space in his brain. He realized his mistake when Ominis’ eyebrows dropped and tried to recover. “We get along fine. It’s just this one, stupid thing.”

“If you care for her so much, why won’t you just end this and ask her to dinner?” Ominis inquired. Damn that logic of his.

“Well, because,” Sebastian dead-panned. “Then I won’t have won.”

“I hope she curses you when you finally break down.”

And now it was the final night of the school year, of all his school years, and Sebastian found himself clutching his heart through a low-burning panic attack as he made his way to the common room entrance. His legs were on autopilot as he climbed through it and trailed a few meters behind the rest of his chattering and excited schoolmates. Each of his fingers sported a vicious hangnail by the time he entered the Great Hall, hardly paying attention to the enchanted galaxies and shooting stars streaking across its deep indigo ceiling. 

Why hadn’t he given his post-educational plans more consideration before now? The thought had produced so much anxiety within him that he’d been quite content to put a stopper in it until now, but now the anxiety reared its head with a vengeance and snapped and coiled dangerously inside him. 

Sebastian stopped at the end of the Slytherin table and glanced down its length. This was last night that he would be shoveling down its scrumptious food without a second thought; it seemed like a childish ingratitude now that he was facing the prospect of growing and catching all his sustenance over the summer, alone. 

The only available seat was next to Ominis, whose hand was planted firmly on the bench next to him to reserve it. Sebastian stumbled over and dropped into it. 

“Don’t sound so happy to be here,” Ominis muttered, passing the large plate of roast to his right and missing Grace Pinch-Smedley’s hands by a good distance. She smiled graciously at Sebastian and grasped the platter away from Ominis, who grunted in thanks. Despite the delightful-looking spread, Sebastian found himself unable to put anything on his plate.

“Psst.” Someone pinched the back of his elbow and he yanked it away on instinct, whipping around to catch the offender. She was sitting directly behind him at the table opposite, her back already facing him once more by the time he turned around. “Last night, birdie. Got a job picked yet?” she muttered over her shoulder, low enough so only he could hear as he strained his neck towards her.

His heart hammered. Why did she have to be the one to ask? “No, that blasted crystal ball only showed me winning the Quidditch World Cup in ten years, and I’ve no idea what that meant.”

“Oh, unknowable universe,” she sighed. Sebastian noticed that she had a black ribbon in her hair for the occasion. He slipped a finger into one of the loops and felt it.

“This is nice.” 

“Well, there you go! I hear Gladrags is hiring right now.”

Sebastian scowled. “Stop, please,” he muttered, turning his body away from her and feeling a little bad about it at the same time. She twisted herself around and grabbed at his sleeve again.

“Hey, it was a joke! You’re going to be fine, Seb.” She set her fork down fully and flipped her legs over the other side of the bench so she could tickle his back. Sebastian buried the reluctant grin on his face in a long gulp of water.

There was so much mingling and getting up to yell over people among the four house tables that no one paid them any mind as she continued running her fingers, distracted, up and down his back. Since this whole mess had begun, there’d been entirely too many casual, unspoken touches that set his mind reeling while he tried to figure out just what this woman was to him and how she felt about it all. But he didn’t even have the bandwidth to feel the usual level of arousal that her touch always conjured. “Come on, birdie, look at me,” she said, and Sebastian heard the tone in her voice as it dropped an octave that meant she wanted the teasing to pause temporarily. 

He turned to face her fully, and the look of pity (and, was that an ounce of longing he saw in those endless eyes?) carved into her mouth made him want to eat his robes. 

“I know things have been…” She glanced around the Great Hall, apparently hoping to find the perfect words written across the walls in floating candles. “Strange. With us.” She was floundering, and pleading with Sebastian to understand what she meant, but he couldn’t find it within himself to help her. He just stared, impassive and paralyzed by all things he’d neglected in his stupid, selfish youth. “But, they don’t have to be.”

She sucked in a deep breath, then jerked her head in Ominis’ direction, where the Gaunt had been slyly turning his ear towards their conversation. “Bugger off,” she hissed at him, and he snorted.

“The first time you two have been interesting in months and now you don’t want to keep me apprised,” he grumbled. But he turned his attention back to his plate and to the very inventive discussion about what Professor Black got up to in the summer holidays. Sebastian waited, still staring blankly at her, for her to reboard her train of thought. 

“Stop looking at me like I’ve got horns sprouting out of my forehead, first of all,” she began, and Sebastian blushed, dropping his eyes. “Look. What if I stayed at Feldcroft, just for the summer, and we worked on finding something you love to do for work, and get the cottage looking presentable. Then, you could sell it to that sweet, old couple down the road from you, the ones who wanted it for their daughter and her new husband. And you can move to London with Ominis and me, and we can just…figure it all out. In our own time.”

One of the few things Sebastian hated about himself was that when he was thinking of something to say, the rudest answer usually supplied itself first. “Wow, you’ve put a lot of thought into this.” “I’ve had to, because you haven’t!” she immediately spat back, poking him in the chest hard with her pointer finger. “I know it seems like a terrifying void out there–” She motioned outside the walls of the castle that still kept them safe and warm for one more night, “–but there’s so much time to do whatever you want–”

He cut her off, his hands fisting into his hair in frustration. “Whatever I want! I’ve no idea what I want!” he cried, accidentally jostling the student sitting on the other side of him with his long limbs as he rose to his feet. 

“Where are you going?” she asked. She stood and followed him, weaving through the crowd of chatting kids. Part of him wanted her to, and the other part didn’t. Where he usually found solace from his anxiousness with her, tonight he found only more push to confront it. Her plan was good. No, it was wonderful; the thought of living with her for the first few months of their adult lives and having her to help him find his passion? It sounded like heaven on earth. 

And apart from the appeal of her career counseling, sharing a living space with her might also provide some easy lubricant to the other plans he was working on. The plans that involved visiting her in her dreams again, for however long it took, in hopes of pushing her to the brink of sexual frustration and forcing her to confess her feelings to him. The book Legilimency and the Dreamer had been stuffed in his nightstand, collecting dust for the past few weeks while N.E.W.T. studying took up every spare waking and sleeping moment he had. But he had every intention of stealing it from the school (“It’s a dangerous book, really,” he had reasoned when the disapproving glare of Madam Pince appeared in his mind at the idea) and taking it with him when he left. It had been too easy, too good, too fucking wonderful poking around her subconscious that he longed to be back inside it. And her, as well.

He cut a sharp left turn away from the Slytherin table and past the distracted gazes of the professors, who were looking just as giddy, if not more, than their students that the summer holiday was imminent. He pounded up the staircase tucked at the back of the hall and hoped he wouldn’t hear any footsteps behind him. He just needed it to be quiet, just for a minute, so he could clear his head of everything and calm down.

When he reached the dust-covered storeroom at the top of the stairs, he let out a sigh. Then the candles on the unlit candelabra next to him blazed to life and a tiny scream jumped out of him.

“Will you talk to me now?” she demanded, her hands on her hips and her wand clutched loosely in one of them when he caught sight of her. 

“You have an extraordinarily light tread.”

“Thank you.” She sniffed and threw her hair over her shoulders like he’d just called her beautiful. Maybe he had. At this point, his brain was such a stew of anxiety and panic that he couldn’t trust a word out of his own mouth. 

Sebastian made his way over to some crates that had been stacked in a corner, dust cloths covering a few of them, and plopped down on one. She watched him, and her expression softened when she saw the way his chest was pumping air in short gasps. “Seb,” she said, jogging across the room and kneeling in front of him, between his legs. Her hands slid up to his face, and her voice suddenly lost all its tough-loving edge. “Hey, hey. Everything’s going to be alright.” “And what if it isn’t?” he choked. The future encroached on him with its talons outstretched, and his vision swirled a little. Air couldn’t reach his lungs quickly enough. “What if I choose wrong, and I have to spend the rest of the life I traded my sister’s for on NOTHING?” He was shouting now, he was sure of it, but the din floating up the stairs from the Great Hall covered it. When he glanced at the woman holding his face for the first time, he saw her lips had parted in shock.

She swallowed. “I didn’t know…I didn’t know that was why you were so scared.” Sebastian knew it was his own fault; he had swept his uncle’s and Anne’s death under the rug and rolled the rug up so tightly that he sometimes forgot about it himself. 

“I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I know,” she whispered. Her thumb stroked his cheek. "But you didn't trade anything for your life, sweet boy. It's yours alone. To do what you want with." The candlelight was twisting weird, dancing figures over her pretty face as she gazed up at him. Why are we always here? He thought. Always here, always close, but never anywhere further. Then she cleared her throat. “So, how about it? Let me stay with you and…figure it out.”

Yes, please, just stay forever. “I don’t know,” his double-crossing mouth said. “What if we can’t sell the cottage? And what about Ominis, in London? He’ll need you there. And what if I still–”

“Oh, see, you’re asking all the wrong questions, baby bird.” She forced him to look at her, her hands clamped down, hard, on either side of his neck. “What do you want to do? Answer me, don’t think.” 

“I want to be with you.” For Merlin’s goddamned sake, it slipped out so easily once he finally got out of his own way. Her eyes rounded, and he half-expected her to whoop out a victory cry. He had lost, given in, quit their stupid little game. Her arms were around his neck and she was kissing him before he had a chance to realize what he’d even said. 

A broken sob of relief passed between their mouths, unclear where it had come from. Her lips were wonderful and soft, better than the dream. It was all better than the dream, he realized: the scent of her filling up his nose and the very real weight of her pressing desperately close to him while they sucked down air in the few reluctant seconds they would break apart for. 

As she shrugged off her robes and lifted her leg to scoot onto his lap, the full severity of how stupid he was hit him squarely in the face. He had been dancing around her, wasting his time with little fantasies and dreams, and why? When he dug his hand into the flesh just below her ass, hoping to confirm this was all really happening, she moaned, dulcet and a little irked, and bit his bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” he laughed, after she had relinquished it with a satisfying smack against his teeth. “Didn’t expect that.” She pulled herself off of him and sat back on her heels while still straddling him. 

“Thank Christ you finally gave in,” she was muttering under her breath. Her fingers worked into the knot of his tie and she grunted in frustration, her hips inadvertently rocking against his cock and making blood flow out of his head and into his lap. “I was thinking of slipping you some veritaserum. I’ve been going mad.”

Sebastian groaned. “You’ve been going mad? I think my hair’s falling out.”

She gave a satisfied grunt as the tie fell loose around his neck, and she pulled him by both ends of it back to her lips. Every pent up ounce of stress and anxiety was rapidly pouring out of him as they kissed with fury, their tongues licking against each other and driving Sebastian wild. She pressed her lips to the spot on his neck where his jaw and ear met, and he discovered with a whimper that would have embarrassed him three months ago that it was his sweet spot. He begged her to do it again (“Shit, please, there again, baby,” was about as eloquent as he could manage) and she obliged with fervor. Her teeth sunk into the spot, pressure and delicious pain getting him harder by the second.

He grabbed her hand and showed her what she was doing to him, and it made her abandon her efforts on marking his neck to say, “God, is that all for me?”

“Who else?” She licked her lips and swallowed, seeming impressed as she stroked him up and down. She swore.

“Seb, this has been ridiculous.”

“Yes, it has,” he agreed, already irritated that now he had actually tasted her, nothing else would ever be as sweet. “But you won.” 

A grin that would have looked more at home on his own mischievous face spread across her lips before he kissed it away once more. “I did, didn’t I?” she said with a small quiver of triumph and pride in her voice as she pulled back to look at him. He was well aware that he probably looked ridiculous, hair pushed askew by her fingers and his gaze stupid and lovestruck. “Every minute of torture since I saw you in that stupid towel–” She punctuated the last word by pushing his robes off his shoulders and throwing them on the ground behind them, “–totally worth it. Every assignment I missed, every class I couldn’t concentrate in, all of those fucking dreams…”

Sebastian’s heart skipped two beats. “DreamS?” he inquired, frantic, while she was tugging off her grey, woolen tights. He emphasized the “s”, barely daring to believe that she could have had more than one without his influence. Had it really been this easy the whole time? Had she been eating herself alive like he had since, what had she said? That stupid towel? 

Since then? Why on earth had he bothered planting little seeds in her mind about being with him? The idea had taken root long before he’d even made his little nighttime excursion. God, this woman would never stop surprising him.

She huffed. “Yes, asshole, dreams. Too many dreams.”

“What kind of dreams?” He couldn’t help teasing her, not even now. When she sat back down in his lap with her tights removed, her core made contact with his cock and they both swallowed back moans at the sensation. Sebastian could feel how wet she was, even through his trousers. Wet and warm. And real. 

“Want me to show you, birdie?”

“Oh, fuck, yes,” he breathed, looking up at her like a supplicant at the altar. There was a fuzzy glow emanating from all around her, and he wondered briefly if it was the candle-lit room or if she was part-deity, about to lead him through the “pearly gates” he’d heard her mention before. She leaned down and kissed him, her fingertips grazing his jaw. Their lips fought a little bit before he had to smile and she won, yet again, her tongue sliding against his. She tasted perfect.

“Did you have cherry tart for dessert?” he asked when she broke apart and pressed her forehead to his. In spite of their already-compromising position, she blushed and nodded. “Well,” Sebastian continued, his hands moving down her waist and thighs to flip up the front of her skirt. “I never got to have mine.” His voice was husky and broken, but he couldn’t care. 

His fingers found purchase on the hem of her underwear. They skimmed over the lace there and they both gave up on trying to be cool and groaned. “Yeah, you were there,” she sighed with a slight choke as he ran one finger up her covered slit and pushed against her clit. “You touched me like that.” Sebastian applied more pressure and rubbed in light circles, and in what felt like seconds, she was circling her hips and grinding against his hand, just like she’d been so close to doing in the Three Broomsticks. 

He decided he’d burn the entire castle to the ground before he let them be interrupted again, though.

Her arms were around his neck once more, hanging on for dear life while she pushed against him and chased down the orgasm that, if her huffy moans and whines were any indication, was looming near. Sebastian had tasted true power before and hated himself for not hating it, but never anything quite as potent as the weight of the woman he loved pressing to his chest and begging him to touch her, to really touch her. He slipped his hand inside the lacy scrap covering her heat without any break in his motions on her clit, and she cried, “Fuck, Bash!”

Sebastian moaned a curse out into his bitten lip and held it between his teeth while he slid one finger into her with the utmost ease. He had only ever heard her call him that once before, during a tense Slytherin/Gryffindor match on the Quidditch field. He’d flown past the stands where she had been clutching the edge of the box, squinting into the blinding sunlight to try and locate the bludger that had been dead set on de-brooming him, just long enough to hear her scream, “Fuckin’ kill ‘em, Bash!” and the fire in her voice had almost done the bludger’s job and knocked him clean out of the air.

She was soaking through her underwear, and the feeling of it pressed against his aching cock was getting him drunk. He pumped the finger upward and watched her shake and chase it back down with her hips. Perfect, he thought, utterly perfect. The idea that nothing would ever be able to compare to that dream seemed ridiculous now, when the real thing hovered over his lap. “I’ve had dreams about you, too, you know.”

“Is that so?” A smug smile flashed across her lips before it vanished in favor of a fucked out scream as he inserted another finger that stretched her even further.

“Mmhm. Awful ones.”

“Like what?” Words were becoming harder for her to gasp out. Sebastian increased the speed of his hand and twisted the fingers inside her so they were brushing against her walls in just the right way.

“I fucked you senseless into my bed.” You braggart idiot. “And I couldn’t think about anything else for a goddamned week. You sounded so fucking sweet, calling me ‘birdie’, and so tight around my cock. I never wanted to wake up.” She shuddered and cried out, driving her hips downward and coming all over his fingers. The peacock in him preened, wondering if the secretly shared memory had been what pushed her over the edge. Her orgasm was so powerful that, when he pulled his fingers away and slipped them into his mouth before she had a chance to protest, he saw a dark stain left on the lap of his trousers. He groaned around his fingers and tipped her chin down with his free hand so she could see the mess she’d made. 

She moaned a feeble, “M’sorry,” when she saw the spot she’d left, shocking Sebastian so much that he used the hand holding her chin to swat her, barely making contact, across her cheek and glared. 

“That is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he growled, holding her in place until she nodded with a whimper and acknowledged it. “I never want to hear you say sorry for anything that gorgeous again.”

If sneaking into her dreams had been wrong of him, he couldn’t imagine that this was any sort of punishment for it.

She grumbled, “You smacked me.” Sebastian snorted.

“Barely.”

“Yes, and therein lies the problem.” He swore as his slacks tightened even more across his lap, and she giggled, wiggling her hips. He bucked into her, trying not to dig his thumbs into her waist too hard but unwilling to let her move from the perfect position he had her in. “Is that your wand?” she inquired. Her lips were pursed as she held in more laughter. “Or are you just pleased to see me?” 

The filter that usually stopped Sebastian from speaking everything on his mind had left him quite alone for the evening. “I’m always pleased to see you. I swear, everything you do gets me so hard,” he said unabashedly. Based on the furious reddening of her cheeks, it seemed she could dish it out but not take it. 

She freed herself from his hands and dropped to her knees again, in front of his spread legs, but this time, there was no pretense of comforting him. Sharp fingernails ran up his thighs while she looked at him from beneath her lashes and inquired, “My turn now?” Sebastian wondered if he’d accidentally ingested a few drops of felix felicis at some point. 

“If you’d like,” he replied, smarmy and satisfied. He leaned back against the stacked crates behind him and spread his legs wider, watching her eye him as if she’d never seen anything better. When she unbuttoned his trousers and pulled him free of them and his underwear, his breath caught for a minute. He hoped it wasn’t disappointing to her.

“God in heaven. How am I meant to take this?” So not disappointed, then. The look on her face was closer to hunger, and Sebastian felt precum leaking out of his throbbing length when she wrapped her soft hands around it and gave a few experimental tugs. “I’ve never done this before,” she admitted, though without embarrassment. “Never knew a man who deserved it.”

“I’ve never had it done,” Sebastian said, “but what you’re doing there feels fucking fantastic.” He sighed in bliss as she stroked him faster. “So, what did I do to be the first one deserving of your beautiful mouth?” he asked, intending to sound very suave but instead eeking out the question with a slight choke. Her thumb swiped over the tip of his cock and he whined. 

She hmphed, concentrating hard. “You mean besides torturing me for a month because you’re too stubborn to tell a girl you fancy her?” He had to give her a sheepish smirk, which she rolled her eyes at. 

When she sank her mouth down around him and he felt the warmth envelope his length, Sebastian mewled. Head thrown back and his fingers clenching against her scalp, he groaned and sighed as she worked her tongue and lips against him. “Sh-shit, wow,” he whined. His composure left him completely. She felt indescribable, but it frustrated him to not be able to form words and tell her. His stomach contorted and flexed, and he stretched his long legs out, letting her steady the free hand that wasn’t jerking him on his thigh.

She pulled off his cock with a pop and looked up at him. “You’re like velvet,” she said, eyes wide, starving. Sebastian took her face in his hand and selfishly prayed that when he died, he’d still be able to take her with him, wherever he ended up. Now that he had her, there wasn’t anything living or dead that he would let separate them.

Such maudlin fantasies manifested themself in the room in the form of Sebastian muttering dumbly, “Sit on it, fuck, please, I need to feel you.” 

“I’m not done here.” She dipped her neck again and licked up the length of him, and the sight and sensation almost broke his resolve, but he managed to pull her off of him by her hair, which made her squawk indignantly. But when he tugged her into his lap and kissed her again, their combined tastes mingling between them on their lips and tongues, her protestations died down.

She dug her fingers into his shirt, then realized he was still wearing a shirt. “Take this off,” she ordered, but as usual, took matters into her own hands and began unbuttoning it, pausing after each button to press kisses to the patches of skin that were revealed when she did so. Her lips left burns behind. When the shirt was finally open, she pulled it off him. 

“My turn now?” he asked, cocking his head to one side and grinning. 

Her uniform and his cast aside on the floor, the two looked at each other for a long while, although the feeling of their cores pressing, bare, together, had them softly panting and grinding. Sebastian laid his forehead against hers. 

“Is…is this real? I mean, is it?” he breathed. He didn’t know what he meant but she did, and she nodded, her lips pressed like she was trying to stop herself from saying something. 

“I’m not letting you fly away that easily.” She kissed up his neck while he smiled. 

“Your little birdie.”

“Yes,” she gasped when his hands landed on her ass and he rolled her hips over his still painfully hard dick. Her clit brushed against the base of it and they both cried out. Sebastian had never felt anything so good, so right.

Her fingers wrapped around the back of his neck, then paused. She frowned.

“What?”

“God, Seb…when was the last time you had your hair cut?” His smile was almost predatory. One month and thirteen days.

“Hmm. I guess it has been awhile. No good?” he asked, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He could feel her fingers twirling the locks at the base of his neck, and she unconsciously ground against him even harder. 

“Very good,” she groaned and threw herself forward so their chests were flush and they were kissing so deep that they had to share air. “You look fucking sinful. Whenever you come back to school with it like that I…” She trailed off, suddenly bashful, as if she wasn’t naked in his arms.

Sebastian thought he might be glowing. “I’ll never cut it again, darling,” he swore. “Just for you.”

The feast in the Great Hall, his nerves about graduation, the murky uncertainty that faced him after Hogwarts, all of it was gone as he helped her lift her hips and legs enough to line up his cock with her entrance. She sank down onto him and they cried out together, her slapping at his chest as she tried to relax around the thickness and him biting down on the inside of his mouth so hard it drew blood as he tried not to come then and there. Shivering, she wiggled her hips side to side while she became acclimated to his size. “Shitshitshit.” Sebastian gritted his teeth. “You’re really tight, wow. You feel…you feel so g-good.”

Her eyes flew to his, and he struggled further to not burst when he saw how flushed and hot she was. She was still steadying herself with a hand pressed against his chest. “S-sorry,” she said, “You’re–you better not fucking gloat about this, Sallow, but you’re the biggest…ugh.” She dropped her head to his shoulder in embarrassment, but Sebastian was beaming. Was he, now? His ego puffed up at the thought. It really didn’t need to hear that. 

“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” “Why don’t I believe you?”

He showed her his canines. His other half, his better half. She knew him too well. “Because how could I possibly? Look at you, you’re a goddamn vision.” She really did look like a goddess on top of him, taking him so well and clutching him like she never wanted to be torn away from him. Then, she squirmed, and his cock somehow hardened further inside her, until the pain and pleasure of it was almost blinding him. “Fuck, you’re warming my cock so well, darling. Can I move?” 

A whimper of assent and a hurried nod almost set him on his course, but he decided in that moment that there was one more thing requiring attention before he could really take her like he wanted to. He placed both hands on either side of her face and kissed her, slower and softer and sweeter than any yet, and said, “I love you.”

He expected a gasp, a cry of disgust, a puzzled look, something from her that would be an appropriate response to his wholly inappropriate confession, but all she said was, “I love you too, Seb.” 

“Alright,” came the dopey response. She giggled and adopted a deep monotone to make fun of him.

“Alright.” They kissed again, and it felt like everything that had been upside down in Sebastian’s mind turned right side up. “I love you so much, my little birdie. I love your curiosity and your chirping. Promise you’ll let me stay with you until–”

“You think I’ll ever let you leave?” He cut her off, incredulous. “My home is ours now. And what’s the rush to sell?” A grin spread across her face as she watched one take over his. “Quite like the idea of a little privacy for the next few months.” He snapped his hips up, just once, and a shriek tore out of her throat. Her cunt was so slick and hot, he had to bite the wound he’d opened in his mouth again to not shout. “Ominis is far too light of a sleeper for how often I plan on making you scream my name.” 

She began chasing his thrusts in earnest, picking up their pace and riding him until her legs were shaking. He hit her limit with every movement, and his abdomen flexed with the effort of fucking up into her the way he was. Their mingled panting and the slap of her ass against his lap were the only sounds filling the storage room, their own private concert for an audience of each other. When her tired legs couldn’t hold her anymore, she begged him, “Harder!” and Sebastian obliged happily by wrapping one arm around her waist and tilting her backwards so he could brace his free hand against the crate beneath him and rail her. A silencing charm would not have been amiss, he vaguely thought, as she cried through her enthusiasm for him. “Fuck, Seb, Seb!” she sobbed. “Please, just please!”

She hadn’t fallen in love with him because he never teased her, he reasoned, so he couldn’t resist a cheeky, “Please what?”, although his own climax was so close that it came out in a pathetic little huff. She was an angel above him, her hair framing her face like a halo and her back arched right where her wings would be. His desire to make her come first was the only thing stopping him from spilling into her. The question plaguing his mind for years finally answered, he was pleased. “So, you do cry when you come. I fucked myself a thousand times thinking about how perfect it must sound.” 

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she slammed her hips down on his cock one last time and he gave three tiny thrusts inside her. His fingers flew to her clit and rubbed it through the searing orgasm washing through her, her cunt spasming around him and pulling him up to the peak as well. She wept and he breathed, "Little birdie fucking loves you,” and they both came together, him pumping his seed into her with labored pants and her greedily taking it in. 

She huffed, “I want all of it,” and he moaned, hoarse and scratching. Cum was leaking out of her as he slowed down, his arm still supporting her as she slumped against him. Their combined mess covered their legs, and the sticky sight almost had Sebastian hardening inside her once more. 

For several minutes, neither said anything. The chatter from the Great Hall had died down significantly. They laid together on the crate and played idly with each other, Sebastian’s fingers kneading the flesh below her ass and hers drawing light shapes over his chest. The air was heavy. It felt as though someone ought to say, “What now?” but neither of them wanted to. It didn’t matter, anyway. “What now?” was never going to be a concern of Sebastian’s again. The drive to ask questions, to wonder, to worry. It was all gone. Settled and soothed by something that curled itself around his heart and laid there, comfortably heavy.

“Come to bed,” he murmured, his eyes drifting open and shut, as if they were playing house in Feldcroft already, and not under strict instructions for one more night to sleep in separate dormitories. 

“Oh, yes, I’m sure the other boys would love that.”

“They don’t hear anything.” Sebastian’s orgasmic haze made everything swirl and swim. He yawned. “Even when you kicked me out of that dream.” His fingertips ghosted over her bare back, toying with the ends of her hair as she lay curled into him. He didn’t realize his mistake until she said, dangerous and low,

“Even when I what?”

series masterlist

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[ufcconor]

Come on, baby

Knox x F!Reader

(Y/n) Brandt has a history with her fathers most trustworthy hit man

SMUT SMUT SMUT

Getting the call from Gerald Brandt was a surprise to say the least. “Knox, I need you!” “What do you need?” Gerald screams into the phone, “Knox, my Idiot son is fucking things up!” “I’ll leave right away.” “And Knox, look after (y/n).” Knox pauses, excitement brewing in him. “You know I will.”

~

I see a man walking down the dock to the shitty houseboat named so cleverly “The Boat”. I sit up from my chair, holding onto my hat in the low wind as the boat rocks in the water. “That’s the new bouncer at the roadhouse Ben keeps going on about?” The smirk grows on my lips. My friend meets my gaze, staring at the man as he steps onto the boat and shamelessly begins to work out in the sun. “He’s hot.” I lean on the railing.

I wave my hand towards him as my boat sails by. “Looking good over there!” He stops mid-sit up and waves with a small smile before continuing his set. My friend scoffed with a smile. “I'm assuming you’re taking a trip down to the bar tonight.” I shrug sitting back in my hair and sipping my margarita. “Might be.”

I walk into the bar and scan the scene. The music is upbeat, and the people seem to be calm… for now at least. I allow my eyes to scan the entire place until I see him. Sitting at the bar, and quietly observing. I walk to him and take the seat directly beside him. I smile at the bartender, “Rum and coke please.”

The man beside me smirks as I mindlessly pat my fingers on the bar looking around. I meet his eyes and drop my jaw dramatically. “Well, what are the chances? Hey there handsome.” “My name’s Dalton.” I shake his hand, “(y/n). Nice to see you again. Shirt on this time, but we can work on that.”

Night after night I’d go to the roadhouse and sit with Dalton. Flirting and talking, were all fun. When there was an issue he’d get up, handle it with some sarcastic banter and strong punches, and then he’d be back beside me with a cheeky smile as if nothing happened. I like a man who can handle himself. He was a sweet guy to top it off. He definitely shouldn’t be the one to be here taking care of this matter. He shouldn’t have to be the one to deal with my idiot brother and his schemes.

~

I put six sandwiches on a plate and exit the home to the back patio. “Sandwiches are on the bar!” I yell to the boys as I sit down in a chair, opening my book. Not long after I gained inner peace, a loud collision struck right in front of the house. I tear my shades off as a figure enters. “Who the fuck put those bikes in my way?” I watch as Knox strolls in. “Who the fuck are you?” Clyde asks. Knox raises his hand to his face, “Shh.”

He walks to the bar and praises the leftover sandwiches. “Thank you, God. Sandwiches. I’m fucking famished.” He bites into the bread with a growl.

This can not be happening. I was set on the fact that I would not have to see this asshole ever again. The memories flash so quickly. A day full of shopping. The 4 bottles of wine at the most expensive restaurant in Rome. Romantic walks down the streets. Long nights full of him showering me with endless pleasure.

Moe bursts in quickly, “He knocked all the fucking bikes over!” I roll my eyes going back to my book. I’d rather not be involved in whatever the hell he’s doing. I turn the page in my book trying to focus on the words cascading down the page but I can feel his eyes burning onto my frame. Clyde towers over him. “Now you got a big ass problem, bucko.”

Knox nods, mouth full, “No shit! First off, I’m going to need more than 3 sandwiches.”

“I wasn’t done talking.” Clyde cuts Knox off.

Knox glares at Clyde, meeting his gaze with power. “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, lad.” He pushes past Clyde and nears my chair. He stands next to me, looking down at me. I put my book down with a huff. Knox smiles, “What darlin’? Not a word for me? Thought you’d be happy to see me.” I stand up, bumping his arm as I walk past him.

Knox plops down in my seat, lounging back. “Aye, baby. Are you going to make me some more sandwiches or what?” I flip him off as I slam the door shut. “Stupid mother fucking Irish asshole.”

I tear my bathing suit off in a rush. Why the fuck has he come here? Something to do with my father no doubt. I step into the shower trying to calm my nerves, trying to burn out the heat that ignites in my core. He always had this effect on me. I can't help but remember the night.

I lay back on the couch, my dress hugged my body tightly. Knox saunters over with another glass of wine for me. “Mhh thank you,” I mumble out. He takes a seat next to me. I lay my legs over his thighs, beginning to look over his entire frame. He was big (no doubt everywhere). I run my foot over his crotch. He narrows his gaze at me. “Nah, lassie. That’s not in the cards for you.” He grabs my ankles putting my motions to a stop. I sigh before standing, rolling the wine into my glass. “I thought you were fun.” I lean down to my phone, putting some music on. I sway my hips, my back facing Knox. I down my glass of wine, turning around and arching my back on the wall. His eyes glued to my frame, his orbs burning into mine. I take a step forward, lowering the zipper of my dress with each step. I stand in front of him, zipper completely down, the dress hanging loosely. I lean down, my hands on his shoulders. “Still not in the cards? Even for me?” Knox chuckles, forcing his eye contact to the wall. “You father would have my ass, baby.”

I stand straight again. “Hm, that’s a shame.” I let the straps of the dress off my shoulders, it cascades down to the marble floor delicately. Only clad in my panties and expensive heels I turn away from him, leaving the dress at his feet.

“Fuckin hell.” He mumbles.

Before I know it I’m tossed onto the bed and Knox is kissing up my body and pampering my exposed breast with kisses and bites.

Soon his fingers pumping deliciously in and out of my heat. I arch up with a loud cry as an orgasm races through me. “There's a good girl."

I splash water onto my face. I can’t allow myself to get tangled in with him again. There’s nothing there but an empty promise. I know the bed will be cold by morning.

I step out of the shower and dry my body with the towel before hanging said towel up on the door. I bent over, flipping my head over to start drying my wet hair.

“I always did adore this side of you, love.”

I shoot up and turn around. “What the fuck!” I snatch my towel off the door and hold it up in front of me. “Get out!” He doesn’t. Instead, he walks closer causing me to back up until I hit the countertop. He places his arms on either side of me, making a chance for an easy escape difficult.

He bites his lip looking at my poorly hidden body. He catches the hem of the towel in his fingers. “Why don’t we catch up?” I look at him with wide eyes and anger boiling in my chest. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Knox sucks in a breath. “Now listen, I know how it looked back then.” I scoff and push him away. He doesn’t fight me and allows me to pass. “Hate to see you go, but I love seeing you walk away, baby.” I enter my bedroom and with one last glance at Knox, I slam the door shut.

~

Ben walks into the back patio and sees Knox sitting in a tanning chair, eating a plate of sandwiches. “I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?” Knox nods, “Hey. I got a message for you. From your father.” He stands facing Ben.

Bem furrows his brow, “A message? My father? And what… What is this “message”?” Knox pops Ben in the nose quickly before tossing his arm over his shoulders. “You’re Ben, right? Jerry’s son?” He chuckles removing himself. Knox admires the house. He points to the pool shed. “This is where I’ll store my stuff. And that master bedroom up there is mine. Move your sister's shit in with mine. You can take her room.” Ben shakes his head, confusion clouds his mind. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”

Knox grabs a golf club. “Your dad says you’ve been fucking things up.” He turns to Ben, who backs away. “He asked me to lend a hand.”

Ben scoffs, “How would my father know? He’s in a prison, rotting in a cell.” “Don’t be silly. Your father has spies everywhere.”

“Well, you can tell my father…” Ben starts but gets cut off by his sister (y/n) coming out. “Where are you going?” She rolls her eyes. “Why do you care?” She takes a step and Ben grabs her arm. Knox straightens up, anger brewing within him. No one gets to touch her.

“Is it the road house? To see your little boyfriend?” (Y/n) rips his arm off, “Believe it or not but I’m actually likable unlike you.” She walks off. “Don’t go to that fucking bar, (y/n)!” She turns around with a smirk. “Or what?” Knox watches her such as predator watches their prey. Fire brewed within his chest at the thought of some other man touching her, touching what he had claimed.

Ben runs his fingers through his hair, frustration existing on his face. “She’s such a pain in my ass.” He turns back to Knox. “I don’t need your fuckin’ help. I have it all under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Knox swings the club, making Ben back away again. “Yes, I have people out there right now… cleaning up this final issue, and that’s all…” Knox ignored Ben’s confident plan. “So, where’s this bouncer asshole?”

~

I enter the road house and move to the corner expecting to see Dalton but to my surprise, he’s nowhere in sight. Laura slides my drink over. “He’s late.” I furrow my brow. “That’s a first.”

An hour later Dalton comes in looking a little disheveled. He sits beside me taking a breath. “Hey.” “Hey, what’s going on?” He shakes his head. “Had a little mix-up with the sheriff.” I cringe internally, “A mix-up?” My brothers doing. Laura leans over conserved. “What are we talkin’ about?”

A surprising guest speaks a few seats away. “Yeah, what are we talking about?” Ben walks over, taking the seat next to me. “Hey, sis. Thought I told you to stay home.” Ben averts his attention from me. “I’m curious to hear what you were gonna tell her, Dalton. I’m Ben Brandt. (Y/n)‘s brother.”

Dalton smirks, “Let me guess. It’s your turn now.” “My turn?” “You know, to threaten me. Tell me to get out of town. Like your buddy, Big Dick.” Ben chuckled. “No. No, I get the impression that you can’t be threatened.

I wish you could be, but… I’d even bribe you if I thought money would work.” Dalton nods, “Really? How much we talking?”

“Ben, can you just fuck off?” He turns to me, anger in his eyes. “(Y/n) doesn’t it make you curious what an outsider like him… thinks he’s doing here.” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know, Ben. Nor do I care. Just get the fuck out of here.”

Ben ignores me again. “So, I guess my question is… Why? Right? It can’t be just some competitive thing, you…you’ve won the fight. You can back off now. But you… you don’t. You just keep… punching and punching and punching. So, why? Why don’t you just stop?” Dalton stays silent causing Ben to exit like a toddler, anger blowing from his ears.

Dalton raises a brow. “Your brother, huh?” “I like to think I’m adopted.” The door opens and Knox strolls in with the bikers behind him. I watch as Knox scans the room making eye contact with me.

Knox strolls around, picking at two separate tables. “Hey, fellas. Looks like you’re havin’ a smashing night!” He swings the golf club smashing every bottle and glass off their table. Knox successfully starts the bar fight and chaos consumes the entire building.

“Dalton! Dalton! Dalton!” Knox screams as he scans the room. I stand up and walk towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Knox chuckled, lowering his head, our noses brushing. “A lot of shit. You wanna try to fix me?” His smirk grows.

“Dalton! Dalton!” On-demand, Dalton yells from the top of the steps. “What?” Knox looks over him as if inspecting. He tosses his head back. “This is the guy?” He asks me, I can see jealousy glowing in his eyes. “Leave him alone, Knox.”

He points to Dalton. “You know, I got sent here special. Just for you.” Dalton stays calm, taking a glance around the chaotic scene. “And you brought all your friends with you?” “I thought you might miss havin’ an audience. I was trying to be thoughtful. Like on pay-per-view. 25 quid. Watch me pulp your face!” Panic pumps through my veins. “You can’t fucking do this, Knox.”

Dalton stands a few feet away now. “You know this guy too?” Knox smirks and looks at me, waiting for my answer. “He’s my father’s employee.” Knox places his hand on his chest, acting like his feelings are damaged. “Aww come on, baby. Don’t be like that.“ He takes my chin between his fingers, his face inches from mine. “How do I know that you squeal when having your pussy eaten just, hm? Right here.” Knox sticks his hand down to my clothed crotch and pats my pelvic bone lightly. I gasp and move away from him. The act so bold in a public setting had my cheeks glowing red and a pool between my legs.

Dalton grabs Knox and shoves it away. “Don’t touch her, man.” Knox smiles at Dalton. “Nah, mate. You don’t get to touch her! SHE’S MINE!” Knox swings his club at Dalton hitting him in the stomach, before punching him and starting a brawl between the two.

I follow some of the bikers outside as they file out. “What the fuck was that?” I scream at Dell. “Stop it, (y/n). You know Brandt wants the road house.” I roll my eyes, “a shitty bar? For real?” I turn on my heel to walk back into the bar, but Knox catches my upper arm and pulls me to his car. “Let go of me, Knox.” He opened the passenger door and oh so helpfully assisted me in. “You and me. We’re going to have a little chit-chat.” He fumes. He’s angry. He flies off, tearing up gravel as he speeds out of the lot. He maneuvers through traffic, passing cars at high speed. “If you slow down we won’t live long enough to talk,” Knox smirks at me. “Ah baby, I’ve missed that smart mouth of yours, truly.”

Knox drifts into a lonely dock and slams the door as he gets out. “Let’s go.” Knox strips his shirt and shoes. I step out and lean against the front of the car, the sand damp on my feet.

Knox shakes his finger at me. “This ain’t you. Where’d my girl go?” I glare at him, “Maybe she’s back in Rome where you ditched her two years ago.” Knox, only a couple feet away smiles again. “All that? Baby you know your father had me running around for him.” “You left me alone with no explanation. You dipped that morning and never spoke to me again.” Knox nods, “Yeah, I did. That’s what your father told me to do.” “Yeah, and you always do what he says huh? Like a dog.”

Knox drops his smile. “And what have you been doing? You used to listen like a good girl. Now look at ya. Fucking around with these assholes.”

“Better than you.”

Knox grabs my arm pulling me to him. “Aww, now I see it. You’ve not been fucked real good in a long time. That it?” I raise my hand and slap him across the face. He pauses for a moment before a dark smirk grows across his lips. “There’s my tiger.”

Fuck it. This is toxic as hell.

I wrap my arms around his broad body, attacking his mouth. He holds me up, holding our bodies as close as possible. Our tongues battling, the passion seeping from each other's mouths. The clawing and scratching of our hands. He kisses down my neck, running his tongue over my collarbones. The hot breeze sticks to the moist surface. He pushes me back onto the hood of the car. “I’m going to fuck the brat out of you, but first…” he flips the hem of my dress over my thighs, and separates them. “I need to taste ya.”

He kisses the soft skin of my inner thighs. A drunken state unraveled within me. Knox pulls my panties down, taking a look at my private. He nestled between my thighs, "Such a pretty cunt. How did I ever let you out of my sight?" The praises leaving his mouth caused me to gasp. I am unable to speak, unable to ask if he wanted to do this out here, on the beach, given any surprise visitor. All I could do was moan and arch my back onto the cold surface of the car. My heart was racing, blood rushing, toes being forced to curl.

His tongue brushed through my folds, collecting drops of the hot arousal. He moaned against my cunt, sucked on the pulsing bundle of nerves. “Knox," the call of his name made him chuckle against my skin. I had never known such pleasures besides him. I was already close to letting go, his mouth latching onto my clit, once again leaving me to arch her back off the hood. "Let go for me, darling."

With another breathy moan, I release, eyes rolling back into my head, fingernails about to claw stripes into the pain of the car. He lazily licked my slit for a few more seconds before he pulled away, moving up her body to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Knox, fuck me please," I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading. He smiled and followed my order within seconds.

My legs lay wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist tightly. He shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease.

"You feel perfect, angel. Nothing changed." he moaned, his moves quickened fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the area. "So fucking good" Knox panted in between harsh thrusts. My lower body just perfectly crashed together with his. I was in heaven as I felt myself coming closer and closer to my end. "I'm gonna cum." | whimpered so quietly that he could barely hear it. “You're the only man who can make me feel this good,” I whined, I was all his.

His movements grew slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “You’re mine, (y/n).” I was so close, my body was burning. I nod breathlessly, “I’m all yours.” Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

"Good girl." Knox panted and I knew he was about to cum. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it at a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Knox growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state. His body was limp on mine.

We laughed into each other's faces and after a moment of silence and just looked at each other. He moved over to his car, retrieving a blanket. “What are you doing?” I ask still lying in bliss. He spread the blanket on the sand. “A night under the stars. What do ya say, lass?” He picks me up and lays us down on the soft blanket. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. In this moment the world was perfect.

[animesmolbean]

A World of Pure Imagination

Author's Note: This is my first story. It's a Wonka 2023 x Male!Reader. Let me know if you want a female version of this story, too! Just message me! Also, I'll refer to the reader as Yin instead of Y/N. It'll still mean your name; it's just a different way of writing it. This might change later. Let me know if you like the 'Yin' idea or not.

Enjoy the first chapter!

Summary: Yin is a runaway after his parents died before he turned 18. He meets Noodle, and when he needs a place to stay, she sneaks him into Scrubbit's and Bleacher's. Yin wishes for change. His wish seems to come true when an eccentric and very cute chocolatier comes to town, ready to sell his chocolate.

Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter

Yin walked around the Gallery Gourmet, his (hair color) (straight/curly/wavy) slightly messy from the wind. He looked around at all the shops and restaurants for what felt like the hundredth time. It's the same old thing over and over again.

As he got closer to the center of the Gallery Gourmet, he saw where the three titans of chocolate resided. Arthur Slugworth, Felix Fickelgruber, and Gerald Prodnose. The sight of the three buildings made him tense, and he looked away.

But just before he could turn and walk away, he heard a voice. But not just a speaking voice. The voice was singing.

🎵At last, the Gallery Gourmet

I knew that we'd see it one day

It's everything you said, Mama

And, oh, so much more🎵

The voice was tenor like and sounded very optimistic. It drew Yin in, and he followed the voice. He weaved through people, excusing himself as he followed the voice.

🎵Each way that you turn, another famous chocolate store

Here's my destiny, I just need to unlock it

Will I crash and burn or go up like a rocket?

I got nothing to offer but my chocolate

And a hatful of dreams🎵

The voice got louder and more clear, signaling he was getter closer. Now, he was in the center of the Gallery Gourmet, and what he saw surprised him.

It was a man, a man around his age; maybe a little older.

He was dressed in a magenta coat with faded gold embroidery, a fuzzy vest over a striped button-up shirt. He also saw a bluish gray scarf around his neck. Beige striped pants that looked like mailman pants, tall worn brown boots, and a brown lumpy top hat. He also had a cane with him. From physical features, Yin could tell he was lithe and pale but not in a sickly sense. He couldn't see his face too well where he was, but he could tell he had dark brown curly hair underneath the top hat.

It was an unusual attire to see, but Yin quite liked it, even feeling envious because he was dressed similarly to the man; minus the coat, hat, cane, and scarf. But the unusual outfit wasn't what took him him off guard. It was the fact he was dancing in the middle of the square.

He looked ridiculous, but Yin couldn't help but find it endearing. He let out a couple of giggles before covering his mouth, a blush blossoming onto his cheeks. Since when did he giggle like a girl with a crush?

Then, he saw Officer Affable tap on the mysterious man's shoulder, reaching his hand out. Yin could only sigh in annoyance. He hated the 'no daydreaming' rule. It was stupid. Not to mention, you have to give three sovereigns for it?! He rolled his eyes. Whoever made the rules needs a good smack on the head.

The man reluctantly gave the officer the money before he left. Officer Affable made eye contact with Yin before giving the boy a nod. Yin nodded back respectfully. Officer Affable was a decent guy; better than some of the other officers.

Yin went to leave, but as he turned, he accidentally made eye contact with the top hat wearing man. He let out a soft gasp. He saw that the man had some sharp facial features but still managed to look childlike.

He quickly recovered and gave the man an apologetic look with a nod before quickly running the opposite way before the man could respond. Once he was behind a building, he inhaled and exhaled softly, his cheeks warm with embarrassment.

'I can't believe I embarrassed myself in front of him. God, I'm an idiot. But.... he didn't judge me when I was blatantly watching him. He actually looked friendly and really cute.' He thought to himself.

Yin bit his bottom lip shyly. He couldn't wait to tell Noodle this later.

(Time Skip to nighttime)

Yin sat in the room in the back of the lobby of Scrubbit and Bleacher's, leaning against the wall. Next to him was Noodle, his one and only best friend. She was reading a book as he read silently next to her. He would occasionally point at a word, silently asking Noodle what it meant. He was intelligent, but Noodle reads more than he does.

The scratching at the entrance to the wash house caught their attention. He heard Mrs. Scrubbit scolding Tiddles, the wild guard dog. They heard Bleacher talking to Ms. Scrubbit. Then, they heard they had another guest.

'Oh no. Not another guest.' Yin thought to himself.

They listened to the two talk, along with the voice of the new guest, a voice Yin swore he recognized.

Mrs. Scrubbit then called for Noodle to pour glasses of gin, which she reluctantly did. Yin took the opportunity to take a peek out into the main lobby. He saw the two pigs known as Mrs. Scrubbit and Bleacher, but when he saw the new guest, he had to hold back a gasp in worry.

'Oh no. It's the cute man from earlier!' He thought to himself.

Yin took Noodle's hand and dragged her into the backroom again.

"Yin? What's wrong?" Noodle whispered.

"It's him." He whispered back.

"You mean..."

Yin nodded. "The man from the Gallery Gourmet."

The pair watched the three converse.

"You see, I'm something of a magician. Inventor and chocolate maker. And first thing tomorrow at the Gallery Gourmet, I plan to unveil my most astonishing creation yet!"

Yin felt his body tense up again. He planned to sell chocolate?! Here?! He's up against the Chocolate Cartel, the only ones who sell chocolate in this town. He can't compete with them.

Yin watched the man remove his top hat. He got a better look at the curly haired man. Sharp jawline, tall nose, his eyes were big and wide, paired with a set of bushy but straight eyebrows that matched perfectly. However, he couldn't see what color his eyes were.

He wondered what color they were.

He watched as the man reached into the hat to seemingly pull out his creation. Instead, he pulled out a teapot.

"A teapot."

"No. That's just for making tea. One second."

He put the teapot back into the hat and went for a second time. This time, he pulled out a bunch of carrots.

"That's for my stew."

Noodle and Yin giggled as the curly haired magician got flustered and tried a third time, but instead continuously pulled out an assortment of scarves. Yin placed his hand over his mouth to prevent a particularly loud giggle that was about to escape his mouth; also, to hide the soft blush that was starting to bloom onto his cheeks.

After Yin calmed down, he saw the man, which he learned was named Mr. Wonka, revert back what Yin assumed was his usual demeanor as he thanked Mrs. Scrubbit. Then, Yin saw Scrubbit take out the thing that he and Noodle dreaded. A contract.

"I have to stop him from signing that. Yin. Go to my room and hide before Mrs. Scrubbit and Bleacher find you." Noodle instructed in a whisper. She pointed up the stairs from her hiding spot in the backroom. "You know where it is."

Yin, knowing the drill, nodded and quickly but quietly jogged upstairs to where the workers sleep. He got to Noodle's room and slipped in, closing the door. He sighed and sat on Noodle's bed. The room was dark, with only a few beams of soft blue moonlight shining through the window, bars on the outside of said window.

'I hope Noodle managed to convince Mr. Wonka into not signing that contract.' His thoughts then wandered to the very adorable magician. 'He seemed so optimistic and driven about his creation. I hope it’s as astonishing as he says it is.' He thought to himself with a soft smile.

Yin removed his boots and laid on the bed. He pulled the threadbare blanket over him. As he drifted off, he thought more about the optimistic and aspiring chocolatier. He was very excited to see what would happen tomorrow.

[smurfylegofan2005]

Imagine This...

It was Wednesday, December 5th, 2001, and a 4-year-old child was wandering all alone in the living room. At first, he/she thought that this was the perfect chance to do whatever he/she wanted, especially because his/her parents wouldn't come back until either Thursday night, Friday afternoon, or Saturday morning. But, he/she ended up getting bored.

So, he/she decided to go watch TV. He/She was constantly changing channels because he/she couldn't really find anything good to watch.

But, then, he/she stopped changing channels when he/she came across a black screen with, in white, and all caps, text saying the following:

ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS SHOW--EVEN THOSE BASED ON REAL PEOPLE--ARE ENTIRELY FICTIONAL. ALL CELEBRITY VOICES ARE IMPERSONATED.....POORLY. THE FOLLOWING PROGRAM CONTAINS COARSE LANGUAGE AND DUE TO ITS CONTENT IT SHOULD NOT BE VIEWED BY ANYONE□

Of course, because he/she was only 4 years old at the time, he/she ignored the text, and he/she continued watching TV anyway.

The first thing he/she saw after the text was what looked like 4 children; 4 CARTOON children, and all 4 of those cartoon children were boys: the first one was a boy wearing a blue hat with a red poofy thing on top of it; the second one was a boy wearing a green hat with little flappy/floppy things sticking out; the third one was a fat boy; and the fourth one was a boy wearing an orange jacket that covered everything except (parts of) his eyes.

The show that he/she was about to watch was called "South Park" which may be a cartoon, but, little did he/she know, it was NOT a CHILDREN'S cartoon.

Once again, he/she was only 4 years old at the time. Because of that, he/she thought that the cartoon that he/she was about to watch was for children anyway. So, he/she STILL kept on watching TV.

After the intro (and maybe some commercials too), the first thing he/she saw was an abortion clinic named "Unplanned Parenthood" which was a reference to (or a parody/satire on) Planned Parenthood.

As mentioned before, he/she was only 4 years old at the time. Therefore, he/she (most likely) didn't know what was an abortion clinic, nor did he/she know what was abortion alone. As a matter of fact, he/she didn't even know what was going on overall at all!

That was. until.. he/she saw this...

The boy wearing a blue hat with a red poofy thing on top of it and the boy wearing a green hat with little flappy/floppy things sticking out, whose names were Stan Marsh and Kyle Broflovski, respectively, were sent to the principal's office. At first, they thought it was because their friend, Eric Cartman, who was the fat boy, was ditching school due to all of the research on abortion and stem cells that he had been doing for a while (only to realize that abortion had been banned). Luckily, that was NOT the reason why Stan and Kyle were sent to the principal's office. NOT luckily, the REAL reason why Stan and Kyle were sent to the principal's office was WAY worse than that: the REAL reason why Stan and Kyle were sent to the principal's office was because their OTHER friend, Kenny McCormick, who was the boy wearing an orange jacket that covered everything except (parts of) his eyes, was diagnosed with a terminal disease/illness. The 4-year-old child who was watching this didn't know what that meant until Stan's father, Randy Marsh, told his son: "They don't think so, Stanley. Your friend is terminally ill, which means... well, son, that means he's going to be going to Heaven soon." Kyle reacted to this by saying: "Wait, Kenny's going to die?" Kyle's father, Gerald Broflovski, answered his son's question with: "He might, Kyle." Stan, with pure sadness, said: "But, he's our friend!" and "No, this can't happen! Kenny can't die! Kenny can't die!" Stan was crying a lot, and the 4-year-old child who was watching the show was crying in stereo with Stan.

After the commercial break, just when he/she stopped crying, the 4-year-old child started to cry again when he/she saw the scene where Kenny was in a hospital.

He/She cried SLIGHTLY more than the first time, most likely because the characters themselves were either crying too or just sad in general.

Despite being only 4 years old at the time, he/she finally wanted to leave, or at least change the channel. But, he/she didn't want to miss out on the rest of the show. In addition, he/she couldn't change the channel anymore because the remote's batteries have been dead since he/she landed on Comedy Central, which was the channel that aired the show. So, he/she had no other choice but to continue watching TV.

Speaking of death...

The 4-year-old child finally saw the one scene from THE ENTIRE SHOW that is enough to make EVERYONE cry.

Stan was finally ready to visit Kenny, hence why he was holding a present, so he could give it to him. But, by the time he got there, it was too late, for Kenny had finally died. Kyle told Stan: "He just stopped breathing, and it was over." Stan told Kyle: "I didn't get to see him. I didn't get to say goodbye." Stan asked Kyle: "Did he say anything before he went?" Kyle answered Stan: "He just said: "Where's Stan?""

The 4-year-old child cried MUCH more than not only the first time, but he/she cried MUCH more than the SECOND time too. In fact, once the show finished, he/she decided to skip late play-time in favor of early bed-time... in tears, of course.

His/Her parents finally came back Thursday night, and their 4-year-old son/daughter explained to them what he/she watched on Wednesday.

At least he/she TRIED TO explain to his/her parents what he/she watched on Wednesday.

As mentioned many times, the child who just watched "South Park" for the first time was only 4 years old at the time. So, he/she wasn't TRULY able to explain it himself/herself.

His/her parents told him/her that it was okay, but they explained to him/her what he/she watched on Wednesday: they told him/her that what he/she watched on Wednesday was an episode of "South Park" which, despite being a cartoon, was NOT a CHILDREN'S cartoon; in fact, it was an ADULT cartoon. In addition, they told him/her that the show, despite the episode he/she watched while they were gone, was NOT supposed to make people CRY; in fact, it was supposed to make people LAUGH. The reason why his/her parents knew about this was because they watched the episode themselves while they were gone. As a matter of fact, they watched (almost) EVERY other episode of the show: the only thing was that they never let him/her watch it with them because they felt like it was too disturbing for children like him/her to watch. Actually, it WAS too disturbing for children like him/her to watch.

So, the parents decided to put their 4-year-old son/daughter to bed. But, before they did so, they told him/her to not watch "South Park" even while no one else was watching, until he/she turned 18 years old.

I made this just for fun, though I MIGHT have a continuation for this in mind. Besides, how and WHY the Hell would this be based on a true story? Newsflash, it's NOT based on a true story!

[memoirsofamanager]

How is dear Gerald? I have some cat toys I would like to give to him.

He's doing great!

[André holds Gerald up. Gerald meows happily. He's still got his bow-tie, but now he's also kitted out with a little top hat! How it stays on is a mystery.]

Very distinguished gentleman. I'm sure he'll love what you have for him!

[obscurecharactershowdown]

Group D Round 1

[image ID: the first image is of Gerald McBoing Boing, a boy in a red cowboy outfit with a white hat and boots. he's reading off a paper into a 40s/50s style radio microphone. the second image is of Gruftine, a girl with pale skin, red-purple hair in a ponytail, dark circles around her eyes, and little fangs. the sides of her head are bald. around her neck is a purple choker with a black spider, and her outfit consists of a purple cloak/robe and a darker purple top and bottom that shows her stomach. she's holding a pink bag with flowers in it. end ID]

Gerald

He's a boy who can only speak in sound effects!

Gruftine

Adorable gothic vampire girl from an equally adorable vampire show! 

[brucenorris007]

"So," Shadow sighed, rubbing his forehead. "To summarize: you've been weakened."

Knuckles frowned, looking up at Shadow from where he sat.

"Not exactly," he said. "A lot of my abilities stem from my connection to the Master Emerald. My best guess is that crossing dimensions weakened that connection."

Shadow stared at him, deadpan and unimpressed. Knuckles broke eye contact and looked back at his hands on his knees.

"Which," he muttered. "Does mean I'm in less than top form here."

Shadow, arms folded, tapped a finger against his bicep.

"Gemerl," he said, glancing sidelong at the robot. "How much does Knuckles being incapacitated affect us in combat?"

"Hey-!"

"Overall combat effectiveness falls by approximately twenty-seven point six percent." Gemerl recited before Knuckles could do more than bristle indignantly.

"I'm not incapacitated!"

"You're good as if you fight in this state," Shadow said, pulling out his chaos emerald. "Take this; it should at least emulate a bit of the Master Emerald's energy."

"I'm not gonna-how's that any kind of solution?!" Knuckles yelled, shooting up onto his feet in agitation.

"It's perfect! You're more in tune with chaos energy than anyone else here!" Shadow countered, shoving the gem out at him.

"And how many new scenarios does that create where we're screwed because you can't use chaos control?!" Knuckles said, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"You'd rather go into battle crippled when we're facing a threat we know nothing about?!"

"I DO NOT SEE THE PROBLEM."

Knuckles turned his glare onto Omega.

"TWO OUT OF THREE IS SUFFICIENT. SHADOW AND I CAN MAKE UP THE DEFICIT WHILE CAPTAIN IS SOFT AND SQUISHY."

"I'm not" Knuckles started, giving up halfway through with a groan.

"You misunderstand me," Gemerl said to Omega. "My calculations were based on a comparison of all five of us as a unit against four without Knuckles."

The soft whir coming from Omega's chassis briefly got louder.

"INCORRECT."

Omega started in on an argument that he was the main contributor to the crew's overall combat prowess; Knuckles traded a look with Metal, who beeped something in binary and shrugged. He shook his head, shoving the proffered emerald back toward Shadow.

"Blaze is a friend," he said. "And she came to us for help. I'm not sitting this out."

"She crossed dimensions seeking help, yes; and yet, she doesn't know who any of us are."

"We went over this," Knuckles said, picking up his hat. "Her soul's the same; even if she doesn't recognize us, she's still Blaze."

"Gerald programmed me with Maria's soul," Shadow deadpanned. "That doesn't mean I'm suddenly my sister."

"You saying you don't wanna help?"

"I'm saying," Shadow said, eyes narrowed. "That there's no reason for you to take unnecessary risks."

Metal beeped again. Shadow threw the blue bot a look and a concurring nod; not for the first time, Knuckles suspected that Shadow had learned binary so that he and Metal could say rude things about him without getting yelled at.

"Look," he said, shaking his head. "I pulled you all aside to tell you because it seemed better than having it surprise everyone in the middle of a fight."

"Great," Shadow said, rolling his eyes and turning to start down the hall. "If only you could apply that foresight elsewhere."

"I still know how to fight," Knuckles said, falling into pace with Shadow; the echoes of metal on granite behind them a sign that the others were following. "If I get into trouble, I'll figure it out."

"That sounds a lot like something he would have said." Shadow commented after a beat of silence.

Knuckles smirked.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

Shadow huffed.

"I haven't decided yet."

@generic-sonic-fan

[hua-liansimp]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

tagged by @jesse-is-spiralling thank you it was lots of fun!

How many works do you have on ao3?

20

What's your total ao3 word count?

105,809

What fandoms do you write for?

Tgcf, genshin impact, kny and no home are the fandoms I have more than 1 published works in, but I have wips for witch hat atelier, svsss, mdzs, harry potter, hsr, jjba and bg3

Top five fics by kudos:

Aniki is Getting Married?! (ayaitto)

I See The Crystal Raindrops Fall (inotan)

The Night Breeze Carries Something Sweet (inotan)

Raccoon Dianxia Finds Treasure! (hualian)

Confession (Eunyung/Haejoon)

Do you respond to comments?

Mostly yes!:) I'm not always sure what to say, but comments mean a lot to me, and I respond whenever I can:)

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't really write sad endings, but maybe To Darken Fading Summer Skies. It's pretty short, though, and I actually have a sequel outlined (will it see the light of the day?) with a happy ending, so none, hehe.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I'm not sure! 95% that are finished are happy:)

Do you get hate on fics?

People have always been very sweet:)

Do you write smut?

I've written smut before, but I wouldn't consider it my main genre at all. I love reading smut though, and I have great respect for those who write it well! It's hard! It's a skill! Tell me your secret!

Craziest crossover:

I have never written a crazy crossover (I dream of the day I will be able to write a fic like how many old gods does it take to end a war (marvel x tgcf) by unfortunategay. I'm still obsessed).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, twice, it's the greatest honor!:) I have one fic translated into Italian and one into Russian.

Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No. It sounds a little scary, but I'm sure it's probably lots of fun! One day, I'd love to try!

All time favourite ship?

Hualian, all the way. They're everything I like in a ship; opposites who are more similar than how they first appear, outcasts who find a meaning and a home in the other, people who suffered too much but still get to have a happy ending. They're tragic but happy, they're obsessive but healthy, and the best thing is that they can't even be separated by death.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's a wolfstar canon-divergence fic I really want to write where an accident happens during The Prank and it changes everything, even the war. Writing long stories scares me though, but I still hope I'll push through one day. Oh, and there's also a very smutty omegaverse-like durgetash fic I want to write with the original Dark Urge, but well, smut isn't my strength hehe.

What are your writing strengths?

Semi-good ideas, maybe? Also, somehow I feel like I write animals well. It's probably because of Gerald Durrell books.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Actually writing. I'm so bad at finishing stuff. I struggle to get the descriptions to flow well, I overanalyze everything, and as someone whose first language isn't english, I'm always very scared that my sentences end up very awkward and strange without me having the faintest idea, but I suppose these are all things that should get better with practice. Still, it's a struggle.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I haven't been in a spot yet where I had to write dialogue in another language like that. I love when other authors do it, especially when it's latin or french or a language I have no idea about (google translate go brr).

First fandom you wrote in?

Miraculous Ladybug, and I wrote smut(!) in my mother language when I was like 13-14? Thankfully it is lost to time (or is probably in my old friend's dms, but I won't go digging). Those superheroes had a chokehold on me and so many of my classmates.

Favourite fic you've written?

Right now it's probably Next time, bring a napkin; I think it turned out funny.

Consider yourself tagged and invited to do this challenge if it appears on your dash and you're in any way interested!:)

[aphelea]

Brant x alvar

I honestly don't think this would be that bad of a ship. Except I doubt that Brant would ever have a thing with someone other than Jolie

[irish-dress-history]

Laurent Vital on Irish clothing in 1518

Burgundian courtier Laurent Vital visited Kinsale, Co. Cork in 1518. He wrote an account of the visit titled "Speaking a little of the country of Ireland" which included descriptions of Irish people and culture. Vital was less bigoted toward the Irish than many of the 16th c. English writers. His writing was still somewhat biased though, because his information came from a French-speaking (probably Anglo-Irish) Irishman who was prejudiced against the rural Gaelic Irish.

Vital's account was only translated into English in 2012, so it is not included in Irish dress history books, because all of them (Dress in Ireland by Mairead Dunlevy, Before the Kilt by Gerald Kelly, Bríd Mahon's books, H. F. McClintock's books) were published before 2012. This is unfortunate, because Vital's descriptions include a lot of details of Irish dress.

The 2012 translation has some flaws. I think the translator, Dorothy Convery, was not knowledgeable about 16th c. Irish dress and possibly not the most familiar with 16th c. French, because she completely misinterpreted some of the clothing descriptions. I have done my best to correct these, but I don't actually know French, so my revised version is not perfect either. If anyone has suggestions for improving it, let me know. I used Randle Cotgrave's 1611 A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues, Dictionnaire du Moyen Français, version 2020 (DMF 2020), the University of Chicago's compilation of historical French dictionaries, Wiktionary, and honestly, google translate for this. (Google translate actually does a really good job with French, like 60% of the time.)

The original French text of Vital's account is available here. Convery's complete translation is here. Content Warning if you decide to read the Vital's complete account: It contains a description of assault with a possible forced marriage. Also, Vital was kind of obsessed with breasts. I am only including the parts describing Irish dress and hairstyles in this post. Translation footnotes are at the end of each page. I couldn't figure out a nicer way to format them on tumblr.

Excerpts from "Speaking a little of the country of Ireland" translated by Dorothy Convery and revised by Deidre

p. 285

The inhabitants [of Ireland] are very strangely and singularly costumed and would that it is so well described that you might picture how they dress just as I saw them, both the men and the women. For to see them is enough to make you laugh. Firstly married women wear their finery, and linen head coverings (1); some yellow and others white. When they are women of status, they have chemises with wide sleeves, worked around the collar and in the seams with silk needlework of different colours. Many of them had their hair cropped in front and back, except for two tresses of hair at either side, which are an ell long. They plait these like children here making hats from rushes and then secure them so they do not come undone. And with the tops of their heads so adorned, these loops of hair braided accordingly hang down in front more or less to their waists, in such a way that these women can put the ends into their kerchiefs (1), which they secure with wool tape (2). These women have their kirtles or petticoats (3) punched (4) there as they were worn alone in the past, with rings placed over (5) the bustline to support their breasts. And above their dresses they wear wide fillets (6) and big belts decorated with beautiful buckles, some of gilded silver, also of copper, metal or brass, according to their rank. Their dresses have loose sleeves, open the length of the arms, unfastened to hang (7) very nicely. Generally, the men, women and young girls wear their chemises (8) open to the waist, without any difference between them except that the women's chemises are, as they are over here, wide at the bottom, made with gores (9) with 4 seams, (10) if needed. So that most young women and girls have their chests naked to the waist; it is as common there to see or touch the breast of a girl or woman, as it is to touch her hand. And so, there are as many different fashions and customs as there are countries.

Translation notes:

coevrechief: kerchief or headcovering

patelette: Bande d'étoffe (DMF 2020) cloth tape, wool or possibly linen

cottes ou cotelettes: kirtle, or possibly coat, or frock/gown (see Cotte in Cotgrave 1611)

ponchonnées: pierced or punched, meaning eyelets made with an awl, or possibly decorative stamping

rondz eslevez: possibly metal lacing rings which were in use by the late 15th c. This whole sentence is confusing to me.

tissu: a bawdricke, ribbon, fillet, or head-band of woven stuffe (Cotgrave 1611)

lachiés à traillette: laschier: let go, release (DMF 2020) trailler: to trayle a Deere (Cotgrave 1611) to trail or to hang. I think this sentence is describing hanging sleeves like those on the Shinrone gown, but it could also be interpreted as "Their dresses have wide sleeves, open the length of the arms, loose to hang very nicely."

I am keeping the original French usage of chemise to mean both the man's and woman's garment, because Irish uses the same word, léine, for both.

ghéron: I think this word is derived from the Old French giron meaning gusset or triangular shape.

genoulx: knee, also join (ie seam in this context) (cf. genouille: full of joins (Cotgrave 1611))

p. 286

The women and girls there wear coloured stockings (1) of red and green and others that they like, better narrowed and tightened with garters than those of Castile. They wear little shoes (2) with single soles, very pretty and cute, worked over other colors of leather and sometimes gilded with tinned leather, as if it were gilded (2), like the shoes which were bought for children at fairs in past times. The place was full of beautiful young women and also girls of marriageable age who were very charming and pleasant. Unmarried young women went bareheaded in summer time with their hair tied back in the same way as maidens over here; and they wear on their heads garlands of flowers or greenery.

Translation notes:

chausses: stockings or hose in Middle French (wiktionary.org)

solier: alternate spelling of soulier: shoe (Cotgrave 1611)

ie like with gold

p. 287-288

Having heard about the rig-out of the women and girls, listen how the men are kitted out. For sure, even more strangely than the women, and particularly the rural people and the savages; for they were shorn and shaved one palm above the ears, so that only the tops of their heads were covered with hair. But on the forehead they leave about a palm of hair to grow down to their eyebrows like a tuft of hair which one leaves hanging on horses between the two eyes. They are strangely bearded, some shave their beards just to just above the mouth and others to below the mouth. Others shave some places and let their beards grow in tufts. These men have their chemises open there, down to the belt, without having sleeves, so their arms are naked. They are belted (1) in heavy linen which goes one and a half times around them, and goes nearly from their neck to their feet, and they go with naked feet and bare legs. [. . .skipping the part on weapons because I don't know enough about weapons. . .] These men dress and enshroud (2) themselves in large hairy mantles, worn over their heads as the women in Brabant wear their huiks. (3) This mantle only goes halfway past the belt; and over that a long shortening (4) of linen. Thus shorn, bearded, armed and barefoot — as I said — imagine how strange this costume is to look at. I must say, I have never seen anything like this before even in a painting.

Translation notes:

chaindent: from chainture the Middle French spelling of ceinture

affubler: to cloath, clad, put on; to attire, or cover with, muffle, or enwrap in, hide, or shrowd, under clothes. (Cotgrave 1611)

huik: a type of cloak worn by women in the Low Countries. It typically had a bill-like brim to shade the wearer's face. more info

escourcoeul: probably the same origin as écourter: to shorten. I think Vital is describing the Irishmen's practice of shortening their léinte by pulling them up over their belts, but I'm not confident about the translation of this sentence.

[breelandwalker]

I posted 3,884 times in 2022

That's 2,435 more posts than 2021!

501 posts created (13%)

3,383 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@breelandwalker

@crazycatsiren

@any59

@hexpositive

@jasper-pagan-witch

I tagged 1,510 of my posts in 2022

#witchblr - 421 posts

#witchcraft - 354 posts

#bree answers your inquiries - 315 posts

#witchy things - 186 posts

#pagan - 152 posts

#advice for beginner witches - 140 posts

#emergency kitten folder - 122 posts

#baby witch - 107 posts

#witch tips - 77 posts

#bree in real life - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#and yes - i do in fact have to be a bitch about it. because i'm sick of getting hatemail every year for pointing out the historical record.

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

When people want to lean on you for mental and emotional support and you're like, no I am a wobbly stick who is barely standing as it is, if you lean on me I will break.

You are allowed to protect your own mental heath, even if it means disappointing someone. Boundaries are good and healthy things to have and don't ever let anyone tell you different.

1,550 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

#4

hi! i was reading that post on things that need to stop in witchy/spiritual spaces and i was wondering what you meant by the burning times (spelled tymez)? i truly have no idea what this is and sometimes humor goes over my head. thanks!

Oh, my WHEELHOUSE! -claps on the Witchstorian hat-

The Burning Times is a revisionist bit of historical fiction passed around and promoted by the modern witchcraft and pagan communities. It refers to a very real period in European history in the 15th-17th centuries when witch hunts and witch trials were happening frequently, many ending in the hanging or burning of the accused. The revisionist myth seeks to turn these innocents into martyrs, labeling them as members of a secret underground pagan cult that survived the Christianization of Europe and were later hunted by the Church for their attempts to keep a pre-Christian nature-based religion alive. Estimates put forth by some community figures, most notably Gerald Gardner, total the supposed number of slain witches as close to nine million.

In reality, while these trials certainly happened, the accused witches were almost entirely marginalized or disenfranchised persons, targets of vicious gossip and hearsay, or victims of political and ecclesiastical machinations beyond their control. Some were on the wrong side of disagreements between Church factions. Others were Jews, Muslims, or Roma persecuted by a prejudiced and easily frightened populace. And by that point in history, it is safe to say that while pre-Christian trappings certainly remained part of various seasonal festivals and popular superstitions, none of the people accused, arrested, or executed in witch trials were actually pagans.

Nor would they have labeled themselves as witches, despite what our modern standards may make of their practices and beliefs about the world they lived in. It's important to remember that "witch," up until the early 20th century was universally regarded as a derogatory term rather than an empowering one. It is still a derogatory and even dangerous thing to be called in many parts of the world today, despite efforts to reclaim it by the modern witchcraft movement.

(It should be noted that accused persons who confessed to being witches often did so under duress or torture, and it should go without saying that this does not constitute any kind of objective truth.)

Furthermore, the figure of Nine Million Witches is factually impossible in historic terms. With the continent already ravaged by war, famine, plague, and political upset during the 200 or so years that make up the so-called Burning Times, a loss of nine million people from witch trials alone (nearly all of them women, if Gardner is to be believed) would have completely decimated the population of Europe. The Black Death alone killed at least a third of the population less than a century before the first spate of these trials began and the continent wouldn't recover for another 150 years. Simply put, even with the most dedicated and zealous of witch hunters on the case, there wouldn't have been enough people to burn.

The actual number of witch trial victims is closer to about 100,000 all told. That's just what we can prove on paper. And even that made a huge impact. The real figures are enough of a tragedy on their own. No embellishment needed.

The Burning Times was adopted as both a pagan and a feminist buzzword for the patriarchal crimes of the Church, and a documentary film (riddled with factual errors) premiered in 1990 which spread the story to a wider audience and cemented the presence of the myth in the second wave of the New Age and witchcraft reconstructionist movements.

There have been many revelatory texts written by both pagan and secular scholars over the years which debunk the idea of the Burning Times, but it's so firmly entrenched, particularly in popular books by the likes of Buckland and Ravenwolf, that you still see it crop up from time to time. It's one of the things we often have to unteach newer witches and pagans, especially the ones who have an axe to grind.

When we say, "Oh they probably still believe in the Burning Times," with a bit of an eyeroll or a knowing look, it often signifies in a gently derivative way that the person is question is either new to the conversation and has not yet been disabused of certain outdated notions, or that they're clinging to those notions with a tenacity of cognitive dissonance too strong to be countered by common sense.

If you'd like more information on witch trials, I did a very long episode on the history of witchcraft and the law on Hex Positive back in September of 2021, tracing the evolution of witchcraft-related laws and notable trials from the Code of Hammurabi to the late 20th century. The Burning Times myth makes an inevitable appearance during the discussion.

Hope this cleared things up for you! 😁

1,551 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#3

Witchcraft Exercises

Just a quick compilation of the posts I've made about exercises to help improve your craft. These can be used as journaling prompts, inspiration for activities, or as methods for pulling yourself out of a slump and recharging your witchy inspiration.

Witchcraft Exercise - Quantifying Your Craft

Witchcraft Exercise - Dig Through The Ditches

Witchcraft Exercise - The Book of Lessons

Witchcraft Exercise - Home Brews

Prompt - Music to Witch By

Most of these are also available in the May 2021 bonus episode of Hex Positive (check your favorite podcatcher).

Happy Witching!

1,579 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

#2

General Advice for Beginner Witches

A brief masterpost of some of my advice posts for beginner witches and the episodes of my podcast dealing with the same. (There is UPG here, particularly where marked, as I base a good deal of my advice on my own experience and observations of other witches.)

Hex Positive Podcast Episodes

Hex Positive, Ep. 04 - Advice for Beginner Witches (July 2020)

Hex Positive, Eps. 6-7 - Come In For A Spell 1 & 2 (Sept 2020)

Hex Positive, Ep. 12 - Witching From The Broom Closet (Jan 2021)

Hex Positive, Ep. 24 - Warding A Witchy Home (Dec 2021)

Hex Positive, Ep. 27 - When Inspo Takes A Holiday (March 2022)

General Tips & Advice

I Feel Like I Might Be A Witch...But I Don't Know

I Have Mental Health Issues - Can I Still Be A Witch?

Can I Still Be A Witch And Use Magic If I Take Medication?

How Do I Teach Myself To Believe In Magic?

How Does Magic Work? (upg ahoy)

Will I Be Possessed Or Haunted If I Try Witchcraft?

What Are Some Things I Can Do To Get Started?

How Can I Start My Practice If I Don't Have Tools Or Books?

How Do I Organize My Study Materials?

How Do I Contact A Deity?

How Do I Worship My Deity If I Can't Have An Altar?

Tips On Working With Deities And Spirits (here be upg)

My Intuitive Spark Feels Low - How Do I Get It Back?

I'm In A Slump - How Do I Get Out Of It?

I've Reached A Stopping Point - What Do I Do Next?

My Candle Is Flickering - Does It Mean Something Bad?

How Do I Make A Magic Circle For Spellcasting?

What Happens If I Get Interrupted While Casting A Spell?

Do I Need To Maintain Positive Vibes For My Spells To Work?

What Should I Do If I REALLY Want To Hex Someone?

How Do I Know / What Do I Do If I've Been Hexed?

See the full post

2,162 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Fairy Tale Spells by Bree NicGarran

Fairy tales have always been with us. Apart from teaching moral lessons and practical cautions, they remain a source of wonder and inspiration that persists even in a modern age dominated by technology.

There is magic in these tales as well - spells and charms that aid the worthy and conquer obstacles, heal the ailing and bring wealth to the poor, thwart the wicked and exact terrible revenge, or grant someone their hearts' desire and make their dearest wishes come true.

I have created over a hundred such spells, inspired by the tales recorded by the Brothers Grimm and the folklore collected by Andrew Lang. One volume was published back in 2017 and another is forthcoming. If you're curious (and maybe a little bit daring), here are some previews of the spells to be found in the pages of The Sisters Grimmoire.

After all, who couldn’t use a bit of Happily Ever After?

The Sisters Grimmoire, Vol. I

A Bellyful of Stones - A curse to punish the greedy.

Roughskin - To protect and disguise oneself from those who mean to harm you.

Table of Plenty - To obtain needed money or provisions.

The Red Flower - For removing enchantment.

The Sorrow Pot - To relieve your sorrows and bring justice for a grievance.

The Wall of Thorns - To protect one’s home and property.

The Sisters Grimmoire, Vol. II (forthcoming)

Make Sure You Lock Up - To set your household wards when you lock your front door.

The Ferryman's Curse - To curse another with the problems that plague your own life.

The Shining Web - To repel trouble from the home.

You can find more spells from The Sisters Grimmoire, Vol. I and potion and powder recipes from Pestlework by checking out the mid-month minisodes of Hex Positive, available on your favorite podcast platform.

All of my titles can be found on Amazon or ordered from the Willow Wings Witch Shop. (If you'd like to see them in your local witch shop, feel free to give the proprietor my contact information!)

If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar! 😊

2,610 notes - Posted January 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[njamil21]

Inktober day 9 - Ghost

In a big oopsie whoopsie, I accidentally did day 9′s prompt yesterday so I decided to fix it by doing TwstOBer day 8′s prompt today. I imagine after the first month of initial uneasiness and frights, Chandra does get along with the ghosts at Ramshackle dorm. They seem like a sweet and helpful bunch when they want to be and it must be exciting to have someone new at that dilapidated building, especially someone who goes through the effort of sprucing it up. I do find it odd since these ghosts show up consistently in the game and yet, they’re just labelled Ghost A, B, and C which only makes me mix them up. So to make things easier and fun for me, I just went ahead and named them. The small ghost is Theo, the large ghost is Gerald, and the lanky skeletal one is Edgar - this is mainly because these are the only names I could think of that would justify them wearing a top hat.

Please do not edit or repost without permission. (I edited my commission prices!)

[officialambassadorfrisk]

I chose the name Gerald for the hypothetical crab because

a crab named Gerald seems like a fancy lil guy

a polite fellow, if you will

ο(‘・’〃)ο″ He would wear a little top hat.... and bow tie!! ⋆ᐠ⁽˚⑅̆˚⁾ᐟ⋆