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hoseoksluna · 1 month ago

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THE BALL OF LIGHT, iv. | myg, jjk

pairing: brother!yoongi x fem!reader (feat. friend!jeongguk)

genre: angst, fluff

rating: 15+

summary: your heart dies and your life changes course.

word count: 5.2k

warnings: fever dream, smoking, sickness — oc has a fever and holly throws up (only mentioned), oc spirals and has bad thoughts, the paranormal, family issues.

luna's note: chapter four is finally here. it's the last one for this year... it's absolutely crazy to think about. this chapter is kind of all over the place only because oc is. her feelings aren't cohesive and her mental issues prevent her from sticking to one good thing in her life. her mind always turns it into a bad thing. keep this in mind as you read. i hope you guys like this chapter. i love you all so much and i missed you. let me know what you think in comments or asks. <3 mwah.

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The house is quiet, as if its mouth has been sewn shut. The snowflake-laced wind speaks for it, seeping through the walls with aching groans that you feel nibbling its way beneath your skin. The lights are out—there are only Yoongi’s Jordans perched by the front door, the only pair of shoes he owns. Not your mother’s kitten heels. Not your father’s loafers. Only those black and white sneakers that are the only remnant of them, for they gifted them to him for the last birthday they were present for.

You had watched Jeongguk drive away with a speed he didn’t dare to trigger with you. For one brief moment of bliss he was there, and for another he wasn’t. You stood like a stone-cold statue upon the place where he embraced you, where he hid you from your brother, cradling his body heat in your hands like it was the potion that contained your humanity. Stood there frozen in time, unwilling to let go of it, of the kindness he gave you, of the life you fleetingly lived with him that didn’t mirror the normalcy you were accustomed to. Unwilling to go back to the curdled milk-like emptiness, to your mind’s imagination, to the tepidness you know from your books that once meant everything to you.

Once… just yesterday.

The heat you cradled from his heart dissipated on its own too soon, however. Above your head, the ivory flurries thickened, twirling in a dance that you sensed to be too sinister to be in the middle of, and so with a heavy soul that began to tear up and yearn for more of his time, you turned around and walked up the hill towards the castle of doom that you didn’t wish to enter, not so ignorant to the bad feeling that sank in its translucent, dusky flesh.

And maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t have entered at all. You should have come up with a reason to stay longer or to stay with him within that bundle of affection he created for you during your brief visit, and not retrace your steps back into the place you no longer belonged to, to the place called ‘home’ that no longer felt like home. But as you turn the key in the lock and step inside the dimness of the hall and no one greets you, you perceive that it had never been your home in the first place.

Not with your mother’s disliking of you, not with her curses over your life.

Like a fractured statue now, you wait for Holly to come padding upon the parquet floors like she does every single day, but the frost settled upon your bones and the snowflakes nestled upon your hair strands and the planes of your face melt first before she ever comes.

Alarm flickers in your chest, mockingly slapping the ends of the velvet ribbon around the tree of life in you.

Your feet automatically slip out of your winter shoes, but you leave your jacket on—leave it on and drip all over the floors as you frantically go in search of your brother, your fright enkindled not by your worst sin, but by being seemingly all alone. All the doors are shut—to the downstairs bathroom, to the kitchen and the bead curtain that separates the dining room from the living room is unmoving, dust-filled as if no soul ever lived in this house. Your head aches, a dull pain darting back and forth behind your eyes, and you feel your body grow feverishly hot beneath all the layers of your clothes. He’s not in the kitchen and Holly isn’t there either, and in the living room the glassy, crystalline ghosts of your parents sit there. Your father in his armchair with a thick novel in his blue, pellucid hands, and the Bible on his lap for comfort and for his last read of the night as was invariably customary to his nightly routine. Your mother sleeping, half-laid on the couch, snoring softly. The cobalt shape of her long hair, the length that was the symbol of beauty for her, but a symbol of barbarism for you. The TV is on, but the sound is muted.

Her chest doesn’t lift, and your father’s hand doesn’t lift to turn the page. Both of their translucent, lucid and almost wet-like forms have one colorful thing in common.

A heart.

You blink, and the delusion drops dead.

Just like them.

Your breath shivers, a paralyzing shock coursing through your body. You can’t move, but somehow your jacket hits the floor, the black material soaking the drops of melted snow you left all over it, ostensibly cleaning it up for you in order not to get you in trouble. You can’t move, but your feet seem to know where Yoongi is and they take you to him. Up the stairs that creak under your weight, through the hall lined with rooms, whose doors are shut, profound with their stories, screaming silently if you put your ear close enough to the wood. You can’t move, but your hand tries the antique knob of your parents’ bedroom and it opens wide.

A familiar, evil energy pulses there in its darkness.

Yoongi forgot to lock it up. Your feet pull you away. You close the door.

Within the realm of your shock and panic, a hope blooms in its midst—a hope that you find Holly curled somewhere on your brother’s bed, drowsily secluded in her doggy dreams that are perhaps too effervescent to steal away from for the purpose of greeting you. But as you flounder to his room and turn the knob, your eyes, searching madly through the fog of your fever, detect no light brown, curly canine family member resting on your brother’s bedsheets.

Yoongi stands at the window, hunched over the windowsill. A white smoke curls over his head.

Your stomach drops.

He’s smoking? He smokes?

It must be your fever, playing tricks on you just like it messed with your brain when you were in the living room. The pounding behind your forehead and eyes intensifies and as you take a step inside the basis of the castle’s doom, the floor creaks under your disintegrating weight, announcing your presence.

Yoongi turns around. The white fume of the smoke mingles with the falling flurries, but doesn’t drop dead, doesn’t disappear. Beats into your discombobulated state. And once he sees that you’ve come home on two unbroken legs, he discreetly lets the slender body of the snowflake-kissed cigarette plummet to the softness of the snow down below.

Pretends you didn’t see him smoking. Clothes himself in the role of the put-together, responsible older brother. Sinless, squeaky-clean, pristine.

You’re reminded of the betrayal all over again. It’s as if he pulled on the already taut strings of it wrapped around your flesh by discarding the cigarette like that upon seeing you. And while your body takes in the pain once more, you’re indifferent to it. It doesn’t hurt anymore; your mind begins to fight against it, against him, in the form of a monologue. Emotion-charged sentences of how it can’t affect you anymore spread down your neurons like forest fire. And maybe this circle of orange-red will keep you safe from all his secrets. Shut him out. So you can remain placid, alive, and well.

So you can remain molded by Jeongguk’s hands.

Yoongi closes the window, enveloping the room in a deeper shade of twilight than it was shrouded in before. The last remnant of the breeze brushes past the film of sweat on your hairline before you’re untouched again. You fight on, unmarred by the reappearing lack, lifting your frail, fire-ringed limb to turn on the light, but your vision is subdued, nonetheless. Your bones decay, and you truly think you’re on the cusp of death.

Jeongguk’s worry uncoiled in reality. You’ve gotten sick, although your affliction points more to homesickness, you suppose.

“What took you so long?” Yoongi speaks first, and you blink to make your vision clearer. Yoongi is a moonlessly opaque, unfocused figure in front of you, so terribly reminiscent of the helmet-wearing boy who drove away… with your scrunchie on his wrist as you now, at this moment, realize whilst your fingers, self-consciously, envelop around your wrist, the one that is protected by the bracelet Yoongi entwined you.

Jeongguk had kept it around his wrist after he pulled it away from your bun. The brief memory of the way he slid the satiny material down his limb floods your brain, the beige being the only color adorning him. Soft brown amidst all that black.

The pressure of your brother’s question washes the recollection away, seemingly ricocheting across the walls, drumming against your ears over and over again as if he asked it a thousand times. Your chest swells with twice as many, with a rising tide more violent than any power he ever disported.

Why haven’t you told me you visit mom and dad’s bedroom?

Why do you insist we keep the door shut and locked still?

Why are you so strict to me?

Why don’t you let me live?

Whywhywhywhywhywhywhywhy?

You choose the question that stands behind the reason why your feet carried you to his room, however. You swallow them down, hang them over the twigs of your tree. Let them breathe the air of life before you spew them out at him.

“Where’s Holly?”

Because that, too, is the reciprocated shooting of an arrow in the middle of this battlefield—a question for a question. It is another step forward because if Jeongguk never laid his hands on you, and had you never drank his cinnamon tea, you would have stooped in your dutifulness and broke your spine bending forward multiple times in apology.

You have nothing to apologize for.��

Yoongi does—for the incision of his hypocrisy.

And brother dearest sighs in response to your counterattack. Hangs his head low. The long, thinning strands of his ebony, snowflake-powdered hair covers his sight, concealing the rawness of his emotions from you. You will never see, will you? The jagged, warped surface of his feelings; the reasonings strung to them. You’ll never see and you’ll never know—and that is the fate of the younger sibling.

Because if he showed you just a little bit of his humanity, you’d be a much happier person, no longer reliant on the emotions described by memorable authors of the past age. Not so fixated, not so needy; a hollow body with hollow organs due to the lack of a caress and a tender word.

You wouldn’t be forming an attachment to the first male that didn’t break your heart.

And the one who knows too well of the sensitivity that your delicate flesh is overlaid with sits down at the edge of his bed. The lower angle allows you to see the largening bald spot upon the left side of his head, right above his ear, especially when he looks to the side, seeking his words along the ashen walls of his room. You’ve never seen him so languid. To such an extent that he nibbles his bottom lip, unblinking, static, unsure.

For the first time in a long while, you wish he would speak. Utter the words in the unfavorable way of his that he’s gotten used to. Your anxiety rises, ingesting you whole, and your throat is so parched, so scratchy that you can’t even swallow.

Your limb, flaccidly, falls off the light switch, slapping against your side. It is the only sound in the room, one that tugs him away from his desperate pursuit of words, and there he blinks. Up at you with round, puny eyes, like Holly does ever so often.

There he speaks.

“I had to take her to the vet,” he begins, a rasp of crumbling words that come to dust between you and him, a fine yet heavy powder that settles over your heart like the snow flurries outside. Winter grows, your fever thumps, and you can’t breathe. “She was shivering and throwing up when I got home. The vet said she ate something bad… probably from the trash.” His eyes narrow as he delivers the information—as if it were your fault that she made this mistake because you weren’t at home. Your anxiety transforms into an overpowering amount of guilt that you tense up against, your mouth parting in dismay, shivering like her, shivering like poor little Holly. “They kept her at the clinic when they heard that none of us were at home. To monitor her.”

You shrivel up—now smaller than him, no longer the one bigger on this battlefield. Smaller and smaller you become until he rakes his hand through his hair and props his knuckles on his knee. To your absolute surprise, Yoongi changes the narrative.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he breathes out, skimming his eyes everywhere but you, and something flickers inside you; something tells you that the verb ‘left’ is one of great importance, one that you remember for a reason unknown to you. Your ears stretch, and so does your heart—towards him in outright urgent anguish, wrapped up in the cloth of grief over what happened to your lives. Love is what you detect in the beginning of that sentence. Clear as day; clear as winter. Something you irrationally and unashamedly would die to receive from him, from anyone. “I picked up another shift… only because Christmas is coming around, but I shouldn’t have. If I hadn’t, Holly would still be here with us.”

The arrow that has changed direction and now points at him feels as though a burden has been lifted off your shoulders. By his boyish hands, by those slender fingers of his, smeared with blood by that constant habit of cuticle biting of his. The burden is red, darkly red, sacrificed, and tears prick behind your eyes.

It isn’t your fault—and Yoongi isn’t blaming you. He’s blaming himself. Smoking out the guilt behind your back. If you had your vape in your hand, you’d squeeze it. Squeeze his shoulder with your other and tell him—it’s okay.

But you can’t say much. You can’t do much either. With your empty fist, you rub your eyes like a small, sleepy baby, your exhaustion preventing you from entering this strange twist of events even deeper. The moment twists tauter, nonetheless.

Yoongi sees you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone a lot softer, but the question still aches—only because it contains the word you wished to say to him. Your brother stands up to his feet and crosses the distance to you, all while you still create subduedly colorful stars before your eyes.

He places a hand on your shoulder—essentially does what you yearned to do to him. The same hand lifts briefly, wraps around your wrist and draws your fist away. Brushes away a damp strand of hair that has messily been sloped across the side of your face. A light touch that nearly brings down your fever. You blink up at him and as you do, he returns the warmth of his hand back down to your bony shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

Pinpricks scatter down your limbs. Love. This is love. The love you have lost somewhere along the highs and lows of his adulthood threaded with responsibilities, tactfulness and accountability. The love that had strayed and now has found its way back—because he presses his knuckles against the side column of your neck.

“You’re burning up.”

As his love saturates your bones little by little, you nod. Weightless you are, no longer bound by shackles, by negativity, by lacks that were too consuming, gnawing at your flesh until there was nothing left of you. His love refreshes you, a fountain kissed by the snow flurries that have softly blanketed his hair from his lonesome window smoking therapy session.

You missed him. You love him and you missed him, and there’s nothing you long for more than to embrace him. Finish the ouroboros of today’s unique events by hugging the only two prominent people in your life. Jeongguk first—and now Yoongi.

And you do. Oh, you do.

Entwine your arms around his torso, hide your face in his sturdy chest. It takes only but a moment for your brother to do the same, taken aback by the sudden shift of your relationship with him. And it is under the palm of his hand that your hair, at last, dries fully, but it is under the palm of his hand, too, that you begin to uncontrollably tremble.

But those are not the trembles, which are so characteristic to your being.

They are the shivers of illness that seep over you in waves, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. More violent, more restraining. Your state of weightlessness lessens, and in his embrace you are metamorphosed into a little girl in need to be taken care of.

Yoongi sees that, too.

Somehow you’re nestled in your bed, and somehow the scent of cinnamon percolates into the disorderliness of your senses, tickling your nostrils with such tenderness that the ‘no’ that begins to sound down your body is but a faint echo. Yoongi made you the tea that you never wanted to drink, that you instead wanted to keep on your nightstand, fall asleep with it tucked by the planes of your face, breathing it in until Jeongguk meets you in your dreams. But you didn’t have to go the extra mile—because as soon as your brother places two painkillers into your hand and holds your neck upright so you can swallow them with the tea without sputtering all over your sheets, Jeongguk already stands, waiting, at the far edge of your dream, which waits for you, too. Waits for you to fall asleep.

Yoongi pets you one last time before his weight lifts off the mattress. Your mind descends into a state of rest, flicking through your memories as if it were a photobook. The intricate frost pattern on the bus stop. Jeonnguk’s unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. The gust of white smoke of his vape rushing out of his mouth as he looked back at you. The way you almost held his hands by swathing them with yours around the vulgar cup. His arm, quick to reassure you at your abrupt outburst of emotion, but not brave enough—not yet. His eyes never lowering down to your naked body in the shower; those same eyes watching you intently in the mirror as you managed to deceive your brother so well. The joy that came after, the touches, the bravery.

There Jeongguk stands—at the recollection of your joy. He takes your hand, with the limb that has been extended in the air for too long. How tired it must be, you think to yourself, as you grab a hold of his forearm with your other hand, how real he feels. His blood flow thumps under your palm and he guides you through this vast, treacly darkness to a place only he knows.

To a meadow in the middle of spring, upon which you’re spread wide. To a meadow of golds, greens and granite blue, where he pins your hands down and hovers above you. To a meadow of fresh dew that soaks your hair damp, where he wants to play a game with you.

Your hair is long—and it is a protective layer for your back so the blades of grass don't engrave dents into the porcelain skin of your back. Your cream-colored, flower-patterned sundress covers the backs of your thighs, but one of them is suddenly lifted. Not by your own will, but by the masculine yearning of the antihero above you, who folds his fingers into the crook of your knee just to sow a seed of kiss on its top. The clouds draw in, a chilly wind curves along the shine of your sweat upon your décolletage, and everything about his actions feels as though you’ve done it a thousand times before.

And maybe you have. Who knows but the God of your father above since you must have slept too soundly to remember it the following morning.

Here, in this flowering, vernal atmosphere, all is possible. There aren’t any lacks of yours that make your life difficult in the other world called reality. Here, you are yourself—and you are brave, beautiful and brimful of affection and touches without any outside forces disrupting this tender moment.

No Yoongi, no issues.

Jeongguk leans back, letting go of your hands that he held in his singular grip. Props an elbow on your knee and lopsidedly grins at you. There is the sun in the pearly white of his teeth, in the glimmer of his eyes, in the length of his pretty eyelashes—and there is the Spirit of God within the lines of his outstretched palms that he now shows to you.

And a piercing on his lip.

“I’m sure you remember this,” he says, and for a split second you envision that he isn’t speaking of a game but of your secret, sleep-tinged memory of living a life with him beyond this parallel wildflower bubble. “We slap hands front-to-front, criss-cross, then front again. We go quicker and quicker each time until one of us fails to catch up and loses.” His grin blossoms like the petals of the primroses as he explains the rules, feeding your starved childhood memory of the game your primary school classmates played with each other but never with you. Of the game you always longed to play with your brother when you sadly went home, but he was never around—not until late at night when you were in bed and your pillow was cold with the way it was moistened with your forlorn tears. You shake that thought away; remind yourself that Yoongi isn’t here. He’s left. You’re alone in this parallel universe, alone with Jeongguk, but you just can’t shake him off. Not until the antihero continues to speak. “You don’t remember?” He chuckles, mimicking your little shakes of head. “I’ll help you remember. Let’s do a try level.”

The wispy strands of his hair flutter against his eyelashes, the soft huffs of his laughter enveloping you in a cocoon that sinks you deeper into this dream with the comfort it evokes. It is a song, the poems of birds, and it inspirits you through and through. Enough that your mouth cracks into a drowsy smile, your palms lifting and brushing against his.

The wonderful noises from his throat grow in volume. “No, not like this, bun.”

Bun. It is a slow-motion movie, the way you blink as you take in that pet name, the way Jeongguk begins to focus on showing you how to play the game right, clothing you into the person of your little you as the smile withers from your mouth. It is a slow-motion movie, the way he splutters into giggles, gives up at the sight of your useless unmoving hands, and falls on top of you, his face in your neck, his mouth peppering kisses, made icy and vibrant with his piercing, at the spot beneath your ear—and the way you notice that the linen fabric of his white shirt has torn claw marks on his back that billow in the wind, the tattered endings flapping vigorously out in the open.

You trace them, the bare skin, with your fingertip and Jeongguk shivers in the intimate embrace.

You wake up with a dry, painful throat. To a full blue light beyond your windows and not the dragging dawn’s darkness extending across the sky. To a first that would get you scolded by your mother and looked down upon by your brother.

You missed school.

Your hair is matted to your head. Your clothes carry the stench of your sweat owing to your fever and when you glance down, you realize that your brother, at some point during your delirium, had taken off your denim jeans and slipped on your warm pajama pants. It is a small flame against the open fire that is burning quietly behind it, called to creation by your fever dream. The more you summon it up in your memories, the more it burns. Bun, those soft little kisses, the lip ring and how its coldness had a little bit of the winter you lived through with him, the largeness of Jeongguk’s palms and God inside them. God, you have touched. God, you have come to know in another person who might not even know him. Your father colors your mind as you recollect his devotion to him.

But those lashes on Jeongguk’s back... you wonder what those meant. What the whole dream meant. How you’ll feel once you see him tomorrow on your lunch break.

You dwell within that warmth until you plentifully come to your senses. Think you must have come a long way, crossed paths you could’ve never crossed before if it weren’t for the events that occurred—if it weren’t for the snow, for the weakness of your mental state, for Yoongi calling you at the wrong place and at the wrong time that was eventually right in all senses. Yoongi. How kind he was to you, how loving after a century of coldness and orders. How quick he was to take care of you and put you to bed, make you Jeongguk’s tea and hold your head upright while you swallowed your pills.

The small flame flickers because you perceive that you have to get to your worst in order to receive love, and that is a sad revelation that settles like a burden over your shoulders, heaving them down. Another load, another reason to grieve being alive.

You look over to your bedside table and like one reaches for a loved one, you reach for your copy of Dostoyevsky’s White Nights. Your papery comfort, a non-verbal being of trees that was shredded to construct a story for you to find your solace in. You open it to a random page, careful still to not break the spine, and you bring it to your nose and inhale.

Grassy tones, melancholy, vanilla and meadows.

Oh. Meadows.

The Jeongguk that now lives in your memories faintly kisses that spot on your neck as your eyes skim the pages and they root at a passage that irrevocably impacts you, despite the fact you’ve read it countless times before. You now consume the Russian man’s words as a brand new person, altered by the dream you had and the life you lived with Jeongguk. It is as though you do so for the first time ever.

A whole minute of silence passed. She did not look at me. I saw that she was in great agitation, that she was waiting for something. She was unable to stand it any longer: she suddenly burst into tears, hid her face in her hands, and ran away. I stood motionless, gazing after her.

The storyteller is a boy dreamily in love with a girl named Nastenka, who stomached a great deal of anguish in her life. She lived in a snare with her grandmother, whose blindness forced her to depend on the girl too violently. Like you are bound to your brother, Nastenka was physically bound by a thread to her grandmother—connected to her hip-to-hip, a thread sewn between their dresses so they could never part. It’s the reason why you adore this book so much. It makes you feel seen, known, understood in the sense that another person went through the same things as you did.

It makes you feel less alone.

In this passage, the storyteller is voicing out his feelings for her, but Nastenka loves someone else—someone who has offered her freedom from the stifling relationship with her grandmother. And because she has tasted this freedom, she does what she deems natural. Unable to stand it any longer … she ran away.

All throughout the years you kept this book in the crevices of your soul, you found comfort only in the fact you felt understood, but now as you read the paragraph over and over again, you comprehend that it offers you something, too.

A solution.

The verb that lodged itself into your mind from Yoongi’s explanation of what happened to Holly comes darting through you at full speed: left. That something flickers in you once again as it did when it fled past your brother’s lips, and your eyes remain glued on the last words that complete the paragraph.

She ran away.

You wish you could. You can no longer tolerate bearing these burdens, the going behind backs, the stifling sensations, the act of earning love by being sick, by being in a bad condition, by doing well in school. You wish you could grab this book, Jeongguk’s vape, figs and cinnamon tea and run away to a place where no one knows you—where people are kinder and give you love, even though you did nothing to earn it. Who give you love like they give you food—the last of what they have, good for health, pleasurable for senses.

Your legs swing over the edge of the bed and, like Nastenka, you hide your face in your hands. And for the last time in the longest while, you weep. Swear to yourself that you shall not again. The tears trickle down your cheeks in thick rivulets, the ones on the left side representing a self-hatred for yearning something so unattainable while the other ones cascade down with the venomous fuel that you simply ask for too much.

That you should get over yourself.

That life isn’t about love.

It’s a lie that carves out your heart and that gruesome flesh topples out of your chest and onto the cold floors. Your instincts nearly throw out the book with the same detestation, but your hands gently place it down beside it. Your feet take you out of that room before your heart starts to rot.

As you walk down the hall, your hand skates across the double doors of your parents’ bedroom. Absorb the ghosts that cling to the wood, the silent echoes of your mother’s arguments thrown at your father. Your fingers wrap around the knob and they would try it to see if Yoongi locked it while you slept, but a strange sound averts you from doing so.

A sound that the castle of doom hasn’t heard in years.

A laughter.

One that doesn’t belong to Yoongi.

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starry-eyesanddaydreams · 1 year ago

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Day 16 of @deepperplexity 's Rickmas prompts

December 16: Keep warm.

Severus Snape x Reader

A couple days late this one, but life and work happened. Back on schedule now and time for some Professor Snape love.

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December at Hogwarts was a delightfully peaceful time. School was out for the holidays, only a handful of students were staying over Christmas and they had been content to entertain themselves around the castle. Severus was using the time to catch up on some personal research projects, as well as restocking the school’s medical supplies. The common cold had been making its rounds of the school towards the end of term, depleting Poppy’s supply of pepper-up potion. He set a cauldron aside over a low flame. It would need to simmer untouched for a day before he moved onto the next step. He stretched his tight shoulders, realising he’s spent most of the day inside his lab, and headed to the kitchenette in his chambers for some tea. As he waited for the water to boil, his eyes were drawn to main room of his chambers. The living area was decorated with holly and pine garlands, a Christmas tree stood in one corner, decorated with shining ornaments. White Christmas candles dotted the room around the garlands. It gave the room a warm and cozy feel to it. Once, he wouldn’t have bothered with trivialities like Christmas decorations. That was before you’d joined the staff of the school. Before that stubborn, beautiful energy of yours had chipped away at his emotional walls and wrapped around his heart. You’d brought softness and simple joy into his life, pulling him bit by bit out of his shell. He still had his reputation as the fierce bat of the potions class, but with you he had started to enjoy the life he lived in a way he never could before. Which included you decorating your now shared living space with holiday cheer. His eyes were drawn to the tree again. Some of the ornaments were older, reused since your childhood or collected along the years. Some were new, Severus had bought some of them, not having any childhood trinkets of his own to add but learning how to build something new with you.

He was snapped out of his musings by the stove top kettle boiling and he was finishing making his tea when the main door opened, and you hurried inside. Severus looked up and just blinked a few times at the sight of you. You were bundled up in a wool hat, scarf and gloves…and his black winter coat. The overcoat, which was already wide in the shoulders and long on him, absolutely swamped your smaller form, reaching down to the floor and the sleeves falling past your hands. You set a basket by your feet and after you tugged your hat and scarf off you noticed Severus watching you. Smiling, you headed across the room towards him. Severus couldn’t contain his rumbling chuckle and his dark eyes were sparkling with humour. “What are you laughing at?” You asked s you reached him. “Just the sight of you in my coat. Looks like it’s trying to eat you.” He answered, still smirking. He couldn’t help it, you looked adorable. You huffed, “Gotta do something to keep warm out there, it’s bloody freezing now. It was this or there’d be a human shaped ice sculpture on the road to Hogsmeade.” Severus pulled you in towards him, deftly undoing the buttons on the coat and slipping his arms under it and around your waist. “We can’t have you freezing, can we.” He said, “Now, what can be done to keep you warm now you’re home?” You grinned up at him and snuggled in closer to his chest, “I can think of a few ways.” You leaned up, brushing his warm lips with your cool ones. Severus’s life had changed so much since you’d entered it. And he was grateful for every moment.

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Reader is trying not to freeze in this and I'm writing it on a 37-degree day (98 Fahrenheit) Ahh the southern hemisphere.

#alan rickman #rickmas 2023 #rickmas2023 #severus snape #severus snape x reader

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fanfics4all · 1 year ago

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The Spirit of Christmas

Request: Yes / No List made by @alpaca-clouds

Requests are open only if its CHRISTMAS/HOLIDAY/ WINTER related <3 Have a nice day/night

Caliban x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1159

Warnings: Nothing!

Prompt(s):

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Caliban was literally made from the clay of Hell, so Christmas was not something he celebrated. No one in Hell celebrated the Holiday, but I wasn’t from Hell. Ever since Sabrina took over as the Queen of hell and Caliban was exiled, he’s found his way to me. I lived just outside of Greendale and was on my own, besides my familiar. Caliban just stumbled his way near my cabin and I took him in. I wasn’t like the witches he’s delt with, I wasn’t one that worshiped satan. Which is why I celibrated Christmas like the mortals. Caliban didn’t understand, but if he wanted to stay then he’d have to deal with it.

I walked inside my home and Noctus flew to greet me. Noctus is a great horned owl and was the greatest familiar a witch could have. I smiled as he perched on my shoulder. I gave him a little scratch under his chin.

“Where’s Caliban?” I asked as I looked around and didn’t see him. Noctus chirped at me and flew over to his perch.

“Oh, he went to get wood? Perfect, I need some more if I want to get this potion going.” I said as I placed the ingredients I collected on my table near my cauldron. Noctus chirped and tilted his head in confusion.

“You know what time of year it is.” I smirked and my familiar perked up a bit. He loved Christmas just as much as I did. I got to work preparing the ingredients as I waited for Caliban to return home.

The door opened and Caliban walked in with a large pile of wood logs. I smiled at him as he placed them near the door. He looked at my ingredients and his brows furrowed.

“Did one of the townspeople come for another potion?” He asked and I shook my head.

“This is a special one, although I suppose it does effect the town as well.” I answered with a shrug.

“What kind of potion is it? I’ve never seen some of these ingredients.” He asked as he picked up one of my vials. I quickly snatched it back and placed it down.

“It’s for the spirit of Christmas, it’s time everything gets in order.” I said and Caliban groaned.

“This is all for that stupid mortal Holiday?” He asked and I sent him a glare.

“Making this potion makes all of the townspeople happy and makes my powers stronger for the coming year.” I answered and he held his hands up in defence.

“I meant no harm by it, love.” He said and I rolled my eyes. He took a seat as I motioned for the logs to float under my cauldron. The flames ignited underneath and the liquid I put inside began to heat up.

“So is this like a sacrifice type thing?” Caliban asked as he watched me intently.

“No, I don’t do any dark magic.” I said and he shrugged.

“Nothing wrong with dark magic, love. I could always show you.” He smirked and I rolled my eyes.

“Keep your dark magic to yourself, I’d rather not get a visit from the Queen of Hell.” I said. Caliban rolled his eyes and rested his feet on the coffee table.

Once the liquid started to boil I started putting the ingredients in. Caliban watched me the whole time and looked confused. I glanced at him and paused what I was doing.

“Would you like to learn?” I asked and he shrugged. I chuckled and shook my head slightly.

“First you make sure the Holy Water and Glacior Ice is boiling before you put in the chopped Peppermint and Gold Dust. Then you stir it together clockwise six times and it’ll look like liquid gold. Next you add Holly, Silver Dust, Pine Needles, and the very kindly donated Angel Flesh and it sure turn silver with some gold flecks streaked about. You’ll stir that clockwise twice and that’s when you get this pine smell coming through. Now we add Ginger, Cinnamon, and Clove and stir that in. The smell should mix with the pine and smell like a Christmas tree mixed with freshly baked cookies.” I smiled as I inhaled the heavenly smell. Caliban also sniffed the air and gave me a small smile.

“Now we put in the mistletoe and blow a kiss.” I said and he chuckled. He came over and blew his own into the cauldron and I smiled at him.

“Pass me that glass bottle, please.” I asked and he handed me the curvy, slightly dark blue tinted bottle. He examined it and his brows furrowed.

“What is it?” He asked as he handed it to me.

“The hardest ingredient to acquire for this potion.” I answered with a smile. I plucked the top off and spilt some of the contents into the cauldron. The simery blue, silver, white, black, and purple spilled out and changed the potion’s color to red with silver streaks.

“I-Is that Stardust?” He asked in complet shock.

“It is, takes me months to get it every year.” I said as I stirred.

“And there you have it! The spirit of Christmas! Now we just say the chant and everything will be finished.

“What’s the chant?” He asked. I smiled and motioned so my book would float over to us. I turned to the page and pointed at the spell.

“It’ll be more powerful if you read it with me.” I said and held out my hand for him. He sighed, but took my hand anyway.

“I hear the bells on Christmas Day, Their old, familiar carols play, And wild and sweet, The words repeat, Of peace on Earth, good- will to all!” We said together and the liquid quickly turned to smoke and blew through the house. It flew through the door and out into the world. The smoke would go through the town and give the spirit of Christmas to all. I turned to face Caliban and he was already smiling at me.

“I feel… different.” He said and I giggled.

“You feel happy?” I asked and he nodded.

“Then it’s working already.” I winked. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me.

“I’ve never properly thanked you for allowing me to stay with you.” He said and I smiled up at him.

“You’ve been very helpful, there’s no need to thank me.” I said. He wrapped his hand in my hair and lifted my head a bit more. He moved in and his lips placed on mine. I closed my eyes and fell into the confort of his presents. We pulled apart and he rested his forehead on mine.

“Thank you, love.” He whispered. I pecked his lips and smiled.

“Well, if that’s how you say thank you, then maybe I will let you say it a lot more.” I said and he chuckled. His lips found mine again and I smiled into the kiss.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @lover2448

#fanfic #prompt #the chilling tales of sabrina #the chilling adventures of sabrina #caliban imagine #caliban x reader #caliban x fem!reader #caliban x witch!reader #witch!reader #christmas #holiday #stardust #fluff #fluffcember 2023 #fluffcember day 1

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mcgnagallsarmy · 2 years ago

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Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #20: A Fic A Week

So this is gonna be a looong list, be prepared!

A Fic With More Than 200k Words

West of the Moon, East of the Sun by KnifeEdge [NC-17]

I keep having the strangest dream. Every night it's the same thing: a dark room, a big bed, and a silent vampire that I can feel, but not see. I'd be wigged, except it's just a dream, right? It'll be a cold day in hell before I ever willingly sleep with a vampire again...

Fic You Haven’t Read by Author You Love

Seven by Holly [NC-17]

It's been months since Willow almost ended the world, and a tense summer has turned into an ominous fall in Sunnydale. Spike is back from wherever and acting weirder than usual, a new threat is rising that—for once—doesn't seem to stem from the hellmouth, and Buffy has no idea who to trust or what to believe. She also doesn’t have the luxury of time to figure it out. Some things never change.

Popular Fic in 2021:

You Learn by bramcrackers [Adult Only]

When Buffy learns about Angel’s history with Drusilla, she can’t ignore how he seems to keep everything about his past to himself unless forced. How can she love someone she doesn’t even know? A trip to a local mage later, she’s plunged headfirst into Angel’s entire sordid history in a series of visions. And dealing with all of that would have been a hell of a lot easier if Spike hadn’t somehow been pulled into it, happy to add the color commentary.

You Can Read in a Day

Fool me Once by Miss Marisol [NC-17]

Some weeks after Something Blue: When Tara helps Buffy find out the horrible truth - that Willow (with Xander's approval) has been dosing her with love potions, so that she thinks she loves Riley- she is furious. She is going to get her revenge on Willow and Xander in the most hurtful way she can think of – by dating someone they desperately wanted her to stay away from...

Fic About a Difficult Topic

Blip by Holly [R]

She lives a life where everything is chosen for her. But not this.

Recommended by a Friend

Hung Up by kats_meow [NC-17]

What if instead of fast food Buffy got a job as a phone sex worker at a new establishment in Sunnydale?

Fic That Will Make You Cry

Future Perfect by Sigyn [R]

“I only show the truth,” the creature said. “The truth of the future. How you feel about it is all your own.” “What future?” Buffy demanded. “What are you talking about?” The demon smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Fic Published in 2012

Who We Used To Be by sweetprincipale [Adult Only]

A short Spuffy, just a small scene from a life that should have been given a second chance. Set after Angel S. five, acting as if no comic series or novels occurred. Consider this an alternate universe, it'll be easier.

Fic Published in 2022

Something Blue's Clues by cawthraven [PG-13]

Willow is just fed up with the way Buffy and Spike act around each other. What are they, five?

A Genre You Don’t Usually Read - POV

A Small Boat on the Ocean by sandy_s [PG-13]

Buffy and Spike are settled in New Orleans and decide to start a family in a realistic way (as realistic as you can get in Buffyverse). Post-NFA, Buffy POV.

Based on a Children’s Classic

Little Red Riding Hood & The Big Bad Wolf by Twinkles [R]

A fairy-tale, of sorts. Response to a challenge by hcconn: Buffy gets her little red riding hood costume at Ethan's instead of the Victorian dress.

Banner With Your Favorite Color

Dreamscape by Holly [NC-17]

While her nights are occupied fighting evil, her dreams are haunted by a devastatingly sexy if not totally evil vampire. But how thin is the line between dreams and reality? More importantly: how thin does she want it to be?

Young Adult Fiction

Golden Hour by kennedynoelle [R]

Spike never came to Sunnydale during the first few seasons. The first time Buffy sees him is during The Harsh Light of Day, sunbathing on campus adorned with the Gem of Amara. Oh no, she thinks, the pit of her stomach dropping and sending tinglies all over, he's hot. They start dating, Buffy unaware that her new boyfriend is a member of the undead. Of course, she has to find out eventually...

First Story in a Trilogy

Wrong Place, Perfect Time by MaggieLaFey [NC-17]

Buffy, a successful lawyer, and William, an excellent detective, are sneaking into the LA Archives and Records Center at the last minute on Halloween day. They’re also both on the phone, and don’t notice that the elevator they’re stepping into might have a few problems. Will they get to know each other once they get stuck inside, or will they be at each other’s throats sooner than William can say “pet” and Buffy can say “sexist jerk”?

Second Story in a Trilogy

Nemesis by Holly [NC-17]

Book II of the Yellow Brick Road series. While trying to cope with mixed feelings and brewing resentment over the fact that Spike screwed her and vanished, Buffy finds herself increasingly suspicious about Faith's close relationship with Angel. Just as things can't get any more confusing, a blond vampire she was sure she would never see again decides that it's time.

Third Story in a Trilogy

Intimate by Holly [R]

He was mesmerized by her heartbeat.

Dystopian Fic

The Footprints Left Behind by Willow91 [NC-17]

In the wake of an unknown attack on the American Frontier and the subsequent loss of contact with the friends they still had stateside, Buffy and Xander sneak into the country and begin a long, dangerous journey to find old friends and the source of the near apocalypse before it spreads throughout the rest of the world.

Award-Winning Fic

Not Dead by Herself [NC-17]

Soon after her resurrection, Buffy gets turned. Spike tries to help her adjust.

Set in the Decade Before You Were Born

A Different Kind of Hell by OffYourBird [NC-17]

Jumping through Glory's tower portal, Buffy and Spike find themselves in a hell dimension they never expected. One that looks suspiciously like 1880's London. Will they find a way back home? Will the truth behind William the Bloody at last make itself known? Will Buffy ever stop butchering the Queen's English? Join them and find out. Starts off at the end of "The Gift."

Historical Fiction From A Favorite Time Period

The Darkling by OffYourBird [NC-17]

When Buffy’s quest to get Spike returned to her is fulfilled in an unexpected way, she finds herself in a complicated relationship with an intrigued master vampire who isn’t the man she loves, but who might be someday… if she can convince him to step out of the dark.

Classic You’ve Never Read

Charms of the Clarion by Eurydice [NC-17]

When the Council approaches Buffy with an offer she can't refuse, she finds herself in another world, with Spike as her necessary partner. Set early Season 5.

A Fic That Will Keep You Up All Night

Almost Paradise by Holly [NC-17]

When presented with the opportunity to magically alter the world she lives in, Buffy knows there are a lot of very good reasons why she shouldn't seize it, but figures things can't get worse. She's wrong.

Most read in 2021

Grace by Soulburnt [NC-17]

In the aftermath of 'Dead Things,' Buffy fears that Spike has dusted. She doesn't think she can survive the world she's been pulled back into without him. When she finds he's alive, Buffy takes a chance at reclaiming her own life by sharing her time, words... and even her blood.

Set in Your Home State - I’ll amend this to Europe

Just to Reach You by Sunalso [R]

Post-Series. Spike and Buffy have been a couple for almost two years. The honeymoon is over and together they're discovering they still have a lot to learn about themselves, each other, and how this whole "normal" relationship thing works.

You Once Started But Never Finished

These Violent Delights by Touchstoneaf [Adult Only]

Part 2 of the Something Wicked series (S5, beginning with "Buffy vs Dracula") Spuffy have been together for a while now. Things have been great. The Scoobies have more or less accepted the reality of their couplehood, Spike finally has his own place, so there’s plenty of thoroughly excellent shag-time, and college is kind of fun when you have a worldly, undead tutor to poke fun at your instructors and help you remember your lessons with fascinating anecdotes or, when that fails, incredibly memorable sexy-times. Life is actually, like, bordering on good. But then Mr. Eurovamp 2000 blows into town and causes a bunch of jealousy. And then Buffy starts having a bunch of crappy Slayer dreams about glowy purply stuff. And Dawn is going off the hook even more than usual, and Mom is acting weird… And, as if there’s not enough to deal with, Buffy’s pretty sure that idiot Riley Finn is still lurking around town trying to come up with a reason to shoot her boyfriend… Buffy should have known things couldn’t stay yummy for long. She probably would have started to worry if it had.

With a One Word Title

Called by Dusty [PG-13]

A slayer, a vampire and how they called through the years.

A Fairy Tale Retelling

Ever Just As Sure by lafillesauvage [R]

Because there can never be enough Spuffy retellings of ‘Beauty and the Beast’.

A Fic Set in High School or Durig the High School Years

Beneath the Surface by The Danish Bird [NC-17]

Spike returns a little earlier to find his gem. The mayor decides that shooting Angel with a poison, which only Slayer blood can cure, is simply too risky for his Faith. And suddenly, Buffy finds herself locked up in a strange underground room in the company of her mortal enemy and the vampire who just broke her heart. But maybe it isn’t all bad. Maybe, this way, Angel will see that this idea about leaving for her own good is bad. Right? Spike, he just wants to get out, but if that’s out of the question, well then at least he’s going to try to have some fun! Starts out right after The Prom and before Graduation Day pt.I.

Fic Set in Another Country

Encapsulated by BillieLiar [NC-17]

“Hotel. I was supposed to have a hotel. This is so not a hotel.” “They’re called capsule hotels, luv, they’re getting common lately.”

Reread a Favorite Fic

Right Next (Door) to You by talesofstories [PG] - this is an all human story

“Why don’t you and Spike just move in together?” “Because that would be really weird? We’re neighbors and friends, Dawn; it’s not like we’re dating.” Buffy firmly ignored Dawn’s muttered, “You could have fooled me.” (Buffy and Spike are neighbors, best friends, confidants. What they aren't is dating. Which is the one thing that everyone assumes they are doing.)

On Your To-Read List the Longest

You Don't Know What You've Got by lex_hex [NC-17]

The Rwasundi demon summoned by the Trio sends Buffy back in time to the moment that Anya's power center is destroyed. Navigating the implications of time travel, Buffy gets to revisit some past events with a new perspective and lots of foresight.

A Fic About Travel

A Matter Of Taste by Twinkles [Adult Only]

A potentially horrifying story of lust, blood and hunger when the world turns inside out. Set shortly before Buffy vs Dracula; Riley left town at the end of S4.

Popular Fic You’ve Never Read

Pet by Sigyn [Adult Only]

Spike and Buffy have been living happily together for what seems like forever, but fate has a sick sense of humor. Buffy finds herself caught in the wrong body, in the wrong time, needing the assistance of a purely evil Spike. Now she must attempt to forge their trust anew, when the dynamic isn’t that of slayer and redeemed, but only that of vampire... and victim.

Crime or Mystery

Liebestod by Iamblichus [NC-17]

They really should have known the First Evil wasn't done with them after Sunnydale... Enter: Time-travel, mysterious prophesies, and lots of poetry. BtVS Post-Season 7; Angel AU Season 5. All's well that ends well.

Science Fiction - I count time travel stories as sci-fi

Someday by Sunalso [NC-17]

AU. The world is broken, but Buffy is given seven days to make it better. Does saving humanity mean letting go of the one thing she wants, or grabbing on to it with both hands?

2022 New Release

One Step Away by violettathepiratequeen [PG]

Spike knows the way she dances. Not even Faith in Buffy's body can fool him.

The First Fic in a Series

Tutor by Holly [NC-17]

Buffy has a certain set of skills: staking vampires, slaying demons, preventing the apocalypse, and chasing off men after a single night. That last thing could stand being crossed off her list. Fortunately, she knows just the man—err, vamp—to help.

Prettiest banner

Holding On to You by MaggieLaFey [NC-17]

Spike is a non-ghost in Angel’s not-so-shiny new law firm, haunted by a terrifying hell. But in his pocket, he has the note Buffy left him in the stranger’s house in Sunnydale, the one from the best night of his life. Will her words be too little, or will they help him hold on to what they’d had those last nights?

An Inspirational Story

The Girl Who Courted Death by OffYourBird [NC-17]

Due to a misfortune of genetics, Buffy is never Called as a Slayer. Instead, she grows up in L.A. with a different set of challenges and trials, unaware of the supernatural world. That is, until a chance encounter with the Slayer of Slayers changes her life—and everything afterward—forever.

#Buffy The Vampire Slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #reading challenges #bramcrackerswrites #tvylrswift #sunalsolove #touchstoneaf #dustyfics #tales-of-stories

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zofi-persson-quotes · 1 year ago

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Blue's updated design

Blue has always plants and erbs alongside the flowers in his hair (the one he has now are lavender, laurel, holly berries and rosemary).

I said this before in the reference sheet, but the purple bits in Blue's eyes are due to the high consumption of potions and Netherwarth!

Also, Blue's markings are actually the most complex ones I've done until now. I'm pretty proud of them.

Main Element: Nature

Minor element(s): Water

Powers:

Plant Manipulation - manipulate plants.

Plant Generation - Generate plants.

Chloroscience - Have absolute knowledge about plants.

Chlorokinetic Regeneration - Heal/Regenerate using plants.

Plant Growth - grow plants at will

Plant Enhancement - enhance plants

Hydrokinesis - manipulate and control liquid water and mold it into any desired shape or form.

Hydrokinetic Constructs - Create/Construct anything using water.

Original from Gacha Life 2 by Lunime, edited by me

#alan becker #animation vs animator #animator vs animation #ava blue #zofi's rambles #ava au

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hunterisnearme · 1 year ago

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Silly Warframe x TTCC crossover stuffs I have brewing in my mind since I now have accidentally opened the gates of both my interests and seeing that people actually unironically enjoy the rambles, here is the list of all managers that I associate them with Waframes and what Zariman Focus they'd major in. (Spoiler free! Just saying which warframe they'd use as operators/drifters)

LET'S GO!

Derrick Man | William Boar

William in my honest opinion would be a Lavos. Lavos in itself is a mish-mash of defense and support, given that William gives off the vibe of someone who would use his body as protection while using potions (or oil in this case) to boost his team mates. William's focus, however, is Naramon. Tactic and whimsical, despite how stern he is as a person.

L.A.A | Alton S. Crow

Alton aka Mr. BIG STEPPY is going to HAVE to be Rhino. While he's a twig, 100% would go for the build of a Rhino JUST BECAUSE of how strong and powerful his steps are. I'm sure if you bonk his Rhino enough his true body will flop out and you can just kick the guy around like a nerd. (I say this with affection.)

An Unairu by heart. He'll assume the best of himself and believe you have what it takes to take down his economy build.

P.R.R | Winston Byrd

Nyx by the automatic. Mind games? Absolutely. There is no way you wouldn't put him in the position as the psychological warfare. Unpredictable, cunning, and uncertain, Winston would definitely use his mind game at the max. (Maybe he's gotten thrown out of existence due to the void overtaking his sanity from the get-go too, honestly. Maybe that's why he's a little looney.) Madurai is what he would be, though with a twist. While most Madurai are known to be brawns over brains, he actually uses that exact brain to demolish his enemies from inside-out.

Duck Shuffler | Buck Ruffler

Zephyr! Mostly because Zephyr is a bird-related Warframe. He'd be the kind of person to swoop from the heavens and raise the stakes of piercing down his enemies with either the beak or talon. He's all about being unpredictable, and of course risking a lot to gain far too little. Another Madurai, simply because he's going in head on!

Deep Diver | Mary Anna

Hydroid, of course! Just like the Warframe itself, she's all about being in the deep-levels of things. Of course, this was a match made in heaven, especially given that they both would enjoy the aquatic life in things such as Neptune's water ecosystem! A vazarin as well, given Mary's need to learn her opponents and as well understand the weak points of an enemy.

Gatekeeper | Holly Grayelle

Styanax, the embodiment of protection and being the knight of everyone's story. Although a different time frame, I'm certain she'd still pick this Warframe simply because of the fact that it represents a true warrior. In her eyes, she believes she is no different. An Unairu for the fact she doesn't step down her place.

Mouthpiece | Belle Dama

Trinity! A supporter, but also a hefty fighter. She can help aid her allies while absolutely DEMOLISHING her enemies. She is wise, given her more in-depth experience in combat than most of the others. And Vazarin, for sure!

Firestarter | Flint Bonpyre

Ember, specifically. He, of course, is far more passive in this team comparing to most. Though at the same time, if it comes to the safety of those he care for, then he will absolutely smite his enemies in the burning hell fires to make sure no one gets killed. (Even if it means he himself gets into the crossfire.)

Naramon, mostly because he's anxious at times but still very much studies what he can against his enemies.

Treekiller | Spruce Campbell

Closest I can say is a Vauban. I would've said Loki, or Oberon, but he is NOT a nature fella. And plus, he can come up with useful tools all while using up materials when necessary. Perhaps he may be on good terms with the Grineer for his hatred of nature? Steel Meridian is definitely buddy-buddy with Spruce. Another Madurai!

Bellringer | Benjamin Biggs

I'd like to think maaaybe a Banshee? It's a mish-mash, honestly between either a Banshee for him always being a loud speaker on gossip, or Ash to "go rogue" and eavesdropping on people. I can confirm though that he is Zenurik!

Featherbedder | Tawney C. Esta

Surprisingly, I see Tawney as a stone-hard Atlas. I'm not sure about them yet, honestly! But I'm sitting on the fence of Atlas, mostly because of the leer that Atlas possesses. A petrifying gaze of Tawney is possible enough, and they have the guts of an Unairu!

Prethinker | Brian [REDACTED]

Xaku! Xaku is the possession of multiple Warframes alike, thinking in one mind much like how Brian does with his jockeys. With the abilities of a mind hive, Brian is a Zenurik!

Rainmaker | Misty Monsoon

You would think I'd pick Yareli for Misty because of the water abilities, but I see her as a Wisp! Yareli is more of an attack-goer, but Wisp suits best in Misty's supportive and skittish behavior. Vazarin by the automatic!

Witch Hunter | Prester Virgil

Harrow! Even if he is meant to sacrifice his own defense for the sake of others, Prester would do it for the sake of defeating the greater evil in which he seeks as filth. Another violent and hostile Madurai, if you ask me.

Multislacker | Cathal

Grendel is what I see as best-choice for someone like Cathal. I'm certain Cathal also happens to be the type of Operator that prefers to work best at his own pod, hidden away while his Grendel is out and about consuming his enemies. He is an Unairu.

Major Player | Dave BruBot

OCTAVIA! It's obvious that as a Warframe of music, of COURSE Dave would aim for one as such. Just even hearing smooth jazz in the dark hallways has never felt so much more dangerous when it comes to the skill of Dave's combat. Dave gives me a more Zenurik vibe.

Plutocrat | Cosmo Kuiper + The Satellites

A man as cold Cosmo, you're destined to see him with a Frost at hand! His strong wield of ice within his hands is what brings him the best strength. And not all, but he has a Railjack that has The Satellites as his crewmen that manage around the ship. While they do not possess their own Warframes, they are useful in defense and attack as Corpus crewmates. Cosmo is a Vazarin!

Chainsaw Consultant | Chip Revvington

Chroma is as versatile and hostile as Chip himself can be. A Warframe difficult to adjust to, but Chip tries his best in order for him to maintain his own inner rage as a Tenno. An Unairu, if you squint real hard despite the Madurai elements.

Pacesetter | Graham Ness Payser

WE ALL know this because of the fact I have been drawing him nonstop in this AU, but he's a GAUSS CERTIFIED USER! A Madurai as well! And of course, because he's also got them Sellbot elements, he half-works with the Corpus.

#20000 internet disconnects later #warframe #toontown #toontown corporate clash #corporate clash #AU rambles #Warframe AU #crossover #i'm not tagging the managers AGAIN but just know it's all of them #excluding maypril fools managers tho

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froppy-butterflyfan2000 · 9 months ago

Note

Tell about your characters

Let’s start with my main casts from Townsville, since it will be the primary setting of The Neighbours storyline. There’s Janaya who is a wizard manipulate and construct mana and dabbling in dark magic, (both wizardry and Mewnian) demonic magic and demonology, and magic cooking. Though specialized in healing magic, fire magic, water magic, potion making, summoning magic (Mewnian), and have the potency of being a spirit wizard. He’s the son of Janna Ordonia and Kyle Bloodworth-Thomason. He know how to be a wizard, a witch, and a sorceror. He served the Butterfly-Lucitor Family, a family friend of his mother, as an agent of the Lucitors, acting as bodyguard to the mayor’s daughter and Leader of The Guardians of the Supernatural, Nebula Butterfly-Lucitor. He is a valuable asset to them due to his vision of seeing the future. He is currently in Townsville and just receive his hero license. Janaya works at a coffee shop, Chillaxation.

His colleagues from work, whose happen to receive their hero license from their time at Camp Synonymous in the summer:

Holly Test is an metahuman inventor. She is the daughter of Mary Test and Brain Freezer from Johnny Test. She have a robotic dog named D00K13 (in memorial of Uncle Johnny’s best friend and dog, Dookie and inspired from Baymax from San Franstokyo/Sans Francisco) and Roboslugs. She is decisive on enrolling to The San Fransokyo Institute of Technology once she graduates from Townsville High.

Beppi Creecher can talk to bugs, do yo-yo tricks, and is Townsville’s Spider-Enby. Child of Creepie and Tartula Boy from Growing Up Creepie. Learnt the arts of espionage from the Pawn Counsellors of Camp Synonymous and ninjutsu from the same source as Mirage.

Mirage Fagry, an ghost-demon/angel hybrid ghost hunter. Daughter of Stocking Anarchy and Patrick Fagry from PASWG. Known ninjutsu from @ej-cappy-universe’s Andrew Cunningham.

They are not in Camp Synonymous, but are employees at Chillaxation and a part of a ‘community service’ Janaya and the others are involve in, Blaine and Arthur Macherbacher, sons of Barry G. Macherbacher and a Phantom Ninja Alien.

Janaya have a little god-sister named Corral (daughter of Jackie Lynn-Thomas and Frankie Foster whose belongs to @beanielune) and a little sister named Hiraya whose is an artificer-wizard. They both goes to Milkweed Academy, a school of wizardry that Alverta Tang (Trixie Tang x Sigmund the Sorcerer) and Leonidas (son of Gregory and a member of The Guardians of The Supernatural) graduated from.

Speaking of Alverta, she is a part of a criminal syndicate, The Circle, just likes the ‘ice prince’ son of Icy and Darko, Snowden, whose is runs by Chinatsu Young. Chase Young, leader of The Heylin and Queen Icy of Dyamond are allies. Which I will explain about them and other villains I owns another time.

He taught magic and the knowledges on magic to @aprilbrowines’ son of Charmcaster and Michael Morningstar, Morgan Morningstar of Bellswood/Legerdomain, @cooltmoney95’s daughter of Bubbles Utonium and Hugh Langston, Sunny Langston of Townsville, and son of Kieran Valentine and Spelldon Caudronello, Dougal Caudronello-Valentine of Transylvania.

I certainly forgot about a character of mine because she is the little sister of the the most important character in Neighbors, Niko Corduroy. She is fifteen years old whose loves her big brothers, @ej-cappy-universe’s Ethan Corduroy and Serpent. She considers @ej-cappy-universe’s Tamara Jackson as her big sister too. She is an Chemical W and Underworldian/Heck/Chaos Realm Demon Hybrid, making her a cambion. Niko is currently not going to get her big brother in trouble as long as she does not let anything goes to her head.

#cappyverse

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ashen-crest · 6 months ago

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THE TIME HAS COME TO RECOMMEND MY FRIENDS' BOOKS

(I mean, like, yeah, I've got my own books, too)

🌿 The Stray Spirit: higher-stakes cozy fantasy about a bard with a forest spirit trapped in his lute. Regency vibes, M/F exes to lovers, forest spirit magic.

💜 A Rival Most Vial: rival potioneers must work together on a joint commission. M/M rivals to lovers, DnD NPC vibes, big emphasis on found family. (also has an audiobook!)

but, more importantly, I have friends who write cozy fantasy as well!

I'm definitely going to miss people/books in this list, but here goes, off the top of my head:

💖 Queer Historical Cozy Fantasy Romance

Breeze Spells & Bridegrooms by S.O. Callahan and Sarah Wallace (M/M Regency w/ fae; absolutely adorable)

Oak King Holly King by Sebastian Nothwell (M/M Victorian, partially set in the fae world; please note, this one is darker, but I still believe it's cozy)

(S.O. Callahan and Sarah Wallace also write their own separate series, I recommend checking out those as well! Sebastian also writes a mix of M/M and F/F, all historical.)

🌟 Contemporary Queer Cozy Fantasy

Phantom & Rook by Noah Hawthorne (an immortal and a witch meet for the second time- but the witch doesn't remember; M/M)

Kit and Basie by Tess Carletta (an immortal falls in love with the man buying his house; M/M)

Coffee Milk and Spider Silk by Coyote M Edwards (drider opens a cafe; non-romance)

⚔️ Cozy High Fantasy

Drinks & Sinkholes by S. Usher Evans - tavern worker solves problems & mysteries in her little town of Pigsend (series, non-romance)

Awakenings by Claudie Arseneault - cozy fantasy mixed with DnD questing, with focus on platonic bonds (series)

I know a lot of this leans toward M/M romance- please pile on if you have non-romance, F/F, or nonbinary recs, or just anything else you'd like to recommend!

ok half way through legends & lattes and it's such a cozy read??? just wanna curl in a cozy blanket and sip the rest like a steaming cup of bean water

#cozy fantasy

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the-travelling-witch · 2 years ago

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just… petting a sleepy tighnari’s head when he just woke up in the morning. he’s yet to properly open his eyes as he does a big stretch™, then just turns to snuggle up closer to you again if that’s even possible

gently combing through his dark hair before lightly scratching the base of his fluffy ears. before he can even realise it, tighnari is craning his head in different directions to get you to scratch different parts as his tail drapes over your legs, a blissful exhale the only thing being heard.

it’s only when you can’t stop the giggles from bubbling over that he fully comes to, ears perking up in alert. little do you know, he’s already planning his revenge for catching him off guard as you boop his nose. but he’s quick to get you back by mercilessly attacking your sides until you’re gasping for air between laughter, begging him to stop tickling you.

tighnari= just a big cat

#holly´s potions #don’t ask where this suddenly came from #i’ve been thinking about him a lot #the big stretch just hits different #it’s the best feeling #tighnari x reader #tighnari fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff

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messers-moony · 3 years ago

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Hope 2 | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

The huge eight-foot man who introduced himself as Hagrid was bringing Harry around London. It was amusing to see Hagrid turn his cousin - Dudley - butt into a pigtail after trying to eat his birthday cake. It was the first birthday Y/n, and Remus hadn’t shown up. Harry didn’t blame them. Of course, to be fair, they didn’t know where Harry was.

“Um, excuse me, Hagrid?”

“Yes, ‘Arry?”

“Where- Where are we going?” Harry questioned hesitantly, and Hagrids lips curled into a smile, “‘Er gon’ meet with som’ of yer folks.” Hagrid answered.

Harry wanted to jump with joy, “Moony and Y/n?”

Hagrid nodded, and Harry smiled brightly. It took a couple of minutes and walking of a couple more blocks. But eventually, they were coming up on an old-looking building made of black stone bricks. In front of the door was a familiar sandy-haired male with green eyes. He was accompanied by his wife with h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes.

“Y/n! Remus!”

Y/n turned to see her little nephew running up to hug her tightly, “Hey Harry.”

Remus ruffled his hair while Harry hugged his aunt, “Hey there, mini Prongs.”

“I missed you.”

“Awe, I missed you too, Harry.” Y/n replied, pulling apart from Harry, “I’m sorry we didn’t show up right away. But we’re here now. I hope that’s okay. We wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world, okay?”

He nodded, “I know. I can always count on you.”

“Good.” Remus stated, “Now c’mon mini prongs. Gotta get your school supplies.”

Walking into the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid, they were greeted by multiple people. Many people were flabbergasted by meeting the famous Harry Potter and were welcoming to see Y/n Potter. In the back of the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid tapped his wand against the brick wall, causing it to open into Diagon Alley. Harry’s mouth was agape at this new form of Magic.

It was astonishing. The narrow alleyway was packed with people. Clusters of them walking in groups. Some were carrying animals, or brown-wrapped items Harry could suppose were books. Y/n smiled and intertwined her hand with Remus’. She could remember the first time she stepped into Diagon Alley. James was acting like such a prat.

“Woah!” James gasped, “Look at all the cool stuff!”

Fleamont chuckled, “Yeah. Isn’t it cool, sweetheart?”

Y/n nodded, completely entranced in the stonework in the alleyway. It was littered with different shops, and the roads were an uneven stone. Euphemia and Fleamont shared a look of pure glee. Their children were magical born, and they were finally experiencing it first hand. Of course, they had their incidents where Y/n would make lights flicker or James blowing plates.

As they began walking, James began to run off, bumping into people left and right, “James! Get back here!” Fleamont scolded, but he was out of sight.

Euphemia sighed, “He’s gonna be a handful.”

“Definitely.” Fleamont agreed, running a hand through his dark brunet hair, “Perhaps he’ll be even worse than me.”

His wife glared at him. Despite James disappearing, they took Y/n into Flourish and Blotts to get their books. They needed books such as The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), A History of Magic, Magical Theory, A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and finally, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.

They didn’t find James until they reached Quality Quidditch Supplies. He was already eyeing the new broom on display. His mouth seemed to be salivating at it. Y/n rolled her eyes at James, drooling over a piece of wood. Euphemia chuckled and motioned Fleamont to reel him back in. It seemed that Euphemia would never get a break, and her heart would be in a constant attack of worry. They had a mischief Quidditch player on their hands.

“C’mon Harry,” Y/n beckoned, “Lots of stuff to get.”

His smile faltered just a tad, “But I don’t- I don’t have any money.”

Harry’s embarrassment made the tips of his ears red, “That ain’t true. ‘Course ye got money.” Hagrid replied bluntly, making Y/n nudge him harshly, “Hagrid!”

“What?” Hagrid queried, confused, “‘S not like ‘m lyin’.”

“Yes, but you don’t just say that.” Y/n scolded, laughing lightly.

“Oops?”

Harry looked up at his flustered aunt, “Come on, Harry. We’re going to Gringotts.”

They began walking to the bank of wizardry. The goblin at the front allowed them to the vault, where Harry was able to pocket a couple of handfuls of galleons, sickles, and knuts. Hagrid made a separate trip for Dumbledore as the other three waited patiently. When they exited Gringotts, Harry began to buy all his supplies.

Their first stop was getting him a wand at Ollivander’s. Harry pushed the door open, and it sounded a bell off, but no one appeared the be in the shop. Remus and Y/n stood behind him as he let out a hesitant, “Hello.”

It took a minute, but then an older male appeared with hair as white as snow and wispy as whiskers. Ollivander smiled brightly at the familiar people in his shop and at the little boy who resembled the older female greatly.

“Ah, Y/n Potter.” Ollivander said, “James broken his wand again?”

Y/n released a shaky breath, “No, not this time.”

“We’re here actually for Harry here.” Remus motioned to Harry, “He’s getting his first wand. He starts at Hogwarts this year.”

Ollivander's lips quirked, “He yours?”

“No, sir.” Y/n shook her head, “He’s James and Lily’s son.”

“Where are they? I’d love to see them, you know.”

Remus shifted awkwardly, “You haven’t heard?”

Ollivander shook his head, “My parents are dead.” Harry informed, “Someone killed them.”

Everything clicked into place in Ollivanders mind. How stupid could old age make him? He had just sounded terribly insensitive, “‘M so sorry. Pardon me and my old age. I didn’t mean-“

“It’s perfectly fine, Ollivander.” Y/n smiled reassuringly.

The older man smiled and began giving Harry wands. The first one was horrid. It made wands on the shelf fall onto the ground, making a vast clatter noise. The boy smiled sheepishly and placed it back in the box. The next wand caused a shatter of a vase which Harry cringed at. It took a couple of minutes until Ollivander came out with the following wand. It was 11 inches long, made of holly, and possessed a phoenix feather core.

Harry waved the wand, and nothing disastrous happened. Remus and Y/n smiled with joy. Ollivander charged him seven galleons for it, and Harry placed down the golden coins with glee. Ollivander could remember the way James had done the same while Y/n beside him. Their identical toothy grins as Fleamont paid the man.

“My wands cooler than yours!”

“No way!”

James nodded in triumph, “You’re just lame.”

“And you’re boring!”

“No way!” James gasped, “I am far from boring!”

Y/n crossed her arms, “And I’m not lame.”

Euphemia chuckled, redirecting her children to look at the counter while the two parents stood behind them, “Ignore them. They like to try and be better than the other.”

Ollivander grinned, “Ah, siblings. What amazing pairs they make.”

Fleamont scoffed, “Yeah, try having two at the same time. Felt like the crucio curse.”

“What do you say?” Euphemia beckoned, and both twins turned to Ollivander, smiling gleefully, “Thank you!”

“They’ll be a handful.” Ollivander informed Euphemia and Fleamont, “But they’ll change the world, and they’ll do it together.”

The older man smiled at Remus and Y/n as Harry went outside to see Hagrid carrying a giant golden cage with a beautiful snowy owl inside, “That boy is something else.”

Remus chuckled, “We know. Little mischief-maker, just like James.”

“Perhaps he is,” Ollivander replied, “But he’ll change the world.”

The rest of the day went by blissfully. After getting all his school supplies, they retreated into the Leaky Cauldron to eat dinner. The tavern was practically empty as they sat at a long narrow table. Hagrid at the head, Harry to his left, Remus across, and Y/n beside Remus on the other side. They were eating in silence before Harry spoke up.

“What happened to my parents?” Harry questioned, and before anyone could answer, he continued, “Truthfully. No lies.”

Hagrid and Remus turned to the female at the table who swallowed thickly, “Something horrid, Harry.”

“How horrid?”

“Harry-“ Remus began.

“A death I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, even my worse enemy.” Y/n answered, staring at the soup in front of her, “The way they died doesn’t matter.”

Harry crossed his arms, “I believe it does.”

“In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t.” Y/n replied, taking deep breaths in and out, trying to stay calm, “It doesn’t matter how they died. They’re dead, and they aren’t coming back.”

Tears collected in her eyes when she muttered, “No matter how badly I want them to.”

Hastily Y/n wiped her face and placed her napkin on the table. She sniffled before standing and pushing her chair in. Y/n leaned down to kiss Harry on the forehead before retreating to the room they got upstairs. Harry sighed and stared at his bowl of soup that remained steaming hot. Remus rubbed his face with his palms.

“Harry,” Remus called, and Harry’s green eyes met similar ones, “Your parents died at the hands of a very evil Wizard. He went as dark as one could go.”

Harry looked intrigued, and Remus continued despite his throat beginning to constrict, “His name was Voldemort, but most people call him ‘You-Know-Who.”

Hagrid flinched at the actual name being said, “James risked everything to try and save you and your mother. When he died, Lily tried to save you. In the end, it all worked out because you were saved. You didn’t die like you were supposed to.”

“Why did aunt Y/n leave the table?”

“Talking about this is still hard for her.” Remus replied, and Harry could see the tears in his eyes too, “It’s hard for me too, but- but you need to know.”

“What were they to you?”

“James and Lily were everything to me, Harry. Everything and so much more. Your mother saw the good in people when they didn’t see it themselves. Your father? Well-“ He chuckled, “He was a trip and a prat. But he cared for those around him. Treated me like family and took care of me like a brother.”

Harry fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater, “James was a mischief-maker that one.” Hagrid said, “Always up to no good.”

“Him and that Sirius boy.” Hagrid chuckled, “Dynamic duo those two.”

Remus let out a tearful chuckle, “Yeah, that was Padfoot and Prongs.”

“Always up to no good.” Remus whispered.

The following day Remus had waken up to what he swore was the most perfect sight. Y/n was still sleeping beside him. Her head was nestled under his chin, drinking in his body heat. Her hair was laid against the fluffy white pillow. Their legs were intertwined together. Gently Remus kissed her forehead before seeing the clock read about nine o’clock.

Remus took five more minutes to admire her before waking her up. He began to kiss all over her face, and Y/n scrunched her nose, waking up as his lips kept attaching to a new place on her face. He smiled as she opened her eyes to meet his green ones.

“Mornin’ love.”

His Welsh accent was to die for, “Morning, Rem.”

“You ready to take Harry to Platform Nine and Three Quarters?”

Y/n shook her head, “No. Not really.”

“Hey,” Remus said softly, stroking her hair, “You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“There are so many memories there, Rem.” Y/n replied, “Like- Like meeting Sirius for the first time.”

“Or seeing you come back after fourth year with an entirely new style.” Remus chuckled, “Or- Or seeing James almost fall out of the train.

Remus caressed her cheek with his thumb, “We’ll make it through, love. Harry needs us today.”

“Yeah.” She replied breathily, “He does.”

They both ventured out of bed into the cool air of London. Remus, Y/n, and Hagrid walked Harry to Kings Cross. When they arrived, Hagrid had departed from them to do something for Dumbledore. Harry was bluntly confused when his ticket read Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Last he checked, that wasn’t a platform.

As they reached the main floor of the train station, Remus and Y/n recognized the Weasleys almost instantly. Molly had embraced them tightly as they all went through the platform. Harry gave his trunks to the man at the end of the train and turned to the only family he had left. His eyes glistened with tears, and he tried to hold them back but failed.

“Harry,” Y/n knelt to his level, “You’re gonna be okay. I promise. James and I made lots of friends at Hogwarts.”

He smiled at the mention of his father, “Do you think… Do you think he’d be proud of me?”

“They’d be beyond proud, Harry.” Remus replied, smiling, “You’re everything they wanted you to be.”

Harry turned back to Y/n and hugged her tightly, “Please make sure you write to us.”

“‘Course, Auntie.” Harry replied as they pulled apart, “Love you guys.”

Y/n stood beside Remus, “We love you too, sweetheart.”

Harry smiled and wiped his cheeks before hopping on the train. He found a compartment alone and watched out the window as the train began moving. Y/n and Remus watched as the train hauled by. Kids who started waving their last goodbyes to their parents.

“Mum, dad!” James exclaimed from inside the compartment, “We love you!”

Euphemia and Fleamont chuckled tearfully, “We love you guys too!”

Truthfully James never wanted to leave his parents. They were his entire world. When Kings Cross was no longer in sight, he plopped down in the seat beside Y/n, who put her head on his shoulder. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her tightly to his side.

“We got this, sis.” James assured, “We always have each other.”

It didn’t take long for Harry to get in trouble. As a matter of fact, it made Y/n laugh that within the first month, he had already managed a detention. She had settled for a letter rather than a Howler. Remus had made sure to tell him his fair of scolding words (“Say hi to Minnie for me!”). Harry smiled when the letter arrived in the morning.

Harry definitely made sure to say hi to “Minnie,” which made McGonagall smile like an idiot despite her usual strict nature. She could see and hear James saying the name when she gave them detention or Sirius’ pouty face begging her to have some form of mercy on them, for they had just turned the Slytherin robes red. Ever the dramatics that Black.

When he arrived back at the Platform, he nuzzled into Y/n and Remus’ arms before departing to the Dursleys. But all was good because in just a month he’d see them again for his birthday, which he did. They took him to Diagon Alley to get his second-year stuff along with some ice cream to celebrate his twelfth birthday.

He spent a week of his summer with them in their little house in London. It was far better than Privet Drive, and he felt a lot safer. But after the week was up, he was forced to return to the Dursleys. Within a week of being back, he’d managed to screw everything up. A thing named Dobby had quite literally dumped puddling all over one of the Dursley’s guests, and that got him trapped in his room.

Thankfully, Ronald Weasley, who had become his close friend, had saved him. Harry went to the Burrow for the first time and met everyone else. Molly had notified Remus and Y/n of his entrance. Sadly, they couldn’t make it to the Platform for reasons. Molly wouldn’t tell Harry, but he was okay with it.

Until Ron and he smashed into the brick wall, making them late for the train. It was then Ron had a brilliant thought of taking the flying car to Hogwarts. It did work until they got stuck in the Whomping Willow and then got caught by Severus Snape. A letter was sent home to Y/n and Molly. Both of which made two very different Howlers to their children.

Molly’s howler was scolding them, and it made Ron’s ears turn pink. Y/n and Remus’ howler was a different story. The moment it opened, laughter rang through the Great Hall. Familiar laughter of Remus and Y/n. It made McGonagall furious and happy at the same time.

“Merlin Harry!” Remus’ voice rang out, “You’re brilliant, aren’t you!”

“Remus, we’re supposed to be scolding him!” Y/n retorted jokingly, “I’m scolding myself for never thinking of it!” Remus replied.

Y/n chuckled, “Obviously, you shouldn't have done that, Harry; however, as long as you’re not harmed, we aren’t mad. Just be more careful next time.”

Remus was still dying of laughter, “Remus is still dying of laughter. We love you, Harry. Stay safe.”

Ron looked appalled with the coolness of the howler, “Bloody hell, you have a cool family.”

“They’re pretty cool.” Harry shrugged, smiling.

Y/n and Remus would be lying if the whole petrifying thing didn’t scare them. They were worried for Harry’s safety but weren’t surprised when Harry ended up saving them all like last year. When they were on the Platform, Remus began getting on the train with him after kissing Y/n goodbye.

He was grunting and groaning at every movement. The bags beneath his eyes looked more prominent than usual. Remus moved sluggishly, which was very unlike him. But Harry didn’t question it until he began to get on the train at Harry’s side.

“Uncle Moony?”

“Yes, Harry?” Remus replied after sitting in a compartment, his cloak covering most of his body.

“Why’re you on the train?”

He chuckled, “I’m your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

Harry smiled, and Remus fell into a dreamless sleep after a rough full moon the night prior. Hermione and Ron joined them not too long after as Harry began telling them about Sirius Black. The year went by as eventful as usual. Harry found out the accurate way his parents died along with Remus and Y/n. Peter Pettigrew being the culprit and then leaving before someone could catch him.

Afterward, Sirius had been staying in the guest bedroom at Y/n and Remus’. He didn’t want to go back to Grimmauld Place. That was the last place he wanted to go. So despite not wanting to be a burden, he took the position that Y/n offered him. Ever so kind, just like James. When he walked through those doors, Y/n had hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek.

“It’s good to have you back, older brother.”

Sirius could’ve cried on the spot, “It’s nice to see you again, little sis.”

The next couple of years were a trip. Fourth-year Harry had managed to get his name pulled out of the Goblet of Fire, leading to a new adventure of challenges. After finishing his fourth year, Cedric Diggory had died, marking the return of Voldemort, which had traumatized Harry in more than one way. That summer, he decided to stay with Y/n, Remus, and Sirius. They were all fantastic help throughout the entire thing. Through his nightmares, Y/n would make him hot chocolate and sit on the couch with him as he talked.

Fifth-year was dreadful. Delores Umbridge had come into the office as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and the Order of the Phoenix reformed. Her detentions were terrible and horrid, especially for the first years. They were just kids, for Merlin’s sake. It made Y/n fume when she saw the back of Harry’s hand. The night they ventured to the Department of Mysteries was almost the worst night Harry could have dreamed of.

Sirius had almost died if Y/n wasn’t as quick as she was. Bellatrix was stunned to see her spell deflected but kept firing nonetheless. When they got home, it was silent. Remus had made tea for himself and Sirius while making hot chocolate for the other two. Harry had laid his head on Y/n’s shoulder and fallen asleep.

Truth be told, sixth year wasn’t any better. Dumbledore had died, and Harry was left to find the rest of the Horcruxes. It was then Sirius learned the actual death of his brother, making him mourn him all over again. Seventh year Harry, Ron, and Hermione ventured out to find the rest of them.

When Harry returned to Hogwarts through the passageway to the Room of Requirement with Snape as headmaster, the war had officially started. In the end, everything had fallen into place. When Harry used the resurrection stone, he saw them. He saw James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius. Harry almost wanted to laugh at seeing them all together. They looked so happy.

“Where- Where’s Y/n?”

Remus gave a solemn smile, “She made it. She’s still out there. Waiting for you.”

“Does that mean…”

“Turns out my sister is a tougher cookie than I thought.” James stated, and Harry turned to him, “She misses you.”

James chuckled, “As I do her.”

Harry turned back to Remus, “Does she know?”

“She was there when it happened.” Remus replied, “I had to give her one last ‘I love you’ and kiss goodbye, right?”

A noise rumbled from a distance, “It’s time, sweetie.” Lily stated.

Harry released a shaky breath before dropping the stone on the ground. He had to do this for Y/n, for Ron, for Hermione, for everyone. He was ready. When he stepped in front of Voldemort to die, all he could think about was his Aunt's eyes. The way they glittered with tears when she let him go for the first time. The way they creased when she smiled at his first Christmas. The way they gleamed with mischief when she gave the Weasley twins new prank material.

His last words would be ones he’d never regret, “Thank you, aunt Y/n, for everything.”

Because through everything, she was the only constant. She was the only one to hold him through anything. Through every nightmare, every battle, every tear, every smile. She was there with her radiant smile and caring nature.

When Harry defeated Voldemort, the world stopped. It was done. It was over. But the pain wasn’t gone. The trauma wasn’t bypassed. This was more than a war. Harry walked into the Great Hall to see crying parents, kids, and siblings mourning their dead loved ones. His eyes zoomed on Y/n sitting crisscross beside her husband, holding his hand tightly.

Wordlessly Harry sat beside her and leaned his head against her shoulder. Y/n tilted her head onto his. No tears fell from her eyes despite everything she had gone through, two wars, friends dead, parents dead, brother dead, and now husband dead.

“His last words were- they were,” She choked, and Harry rubbed her shoulder, “I love you more than Moony loves the moon.”

Harry smiled, “Dad said you were a tough cookie.”

Y/n chuckled, and Harry relished in the sound, “He said that if anyone could get through this, it’s you.”

“Damn it, James.” She said to no one, still holding Remus’ hand.

“We’ll get through this.” Harry said, “And we’ll do it together.”

“Together.”

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carewyncromwell · 3 years ago

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“Raise a glass to freedom, Something they can never take away, No matter what they tell you... (Someone will come running to take you home...) Raise a glass to all of us -- Tomorrow there'll be more of us, Telling the story of tonight! (Out of the shadows...) The morning is breaking, (They'll tell the story of tonight!) And all is new -- (All is new) All is new! It's only a matter of time...”

~“Found/Tonight” by Ben Platt and Lin-Manuel Miranda

x~x~x~x

featuring Atticus Grimsley @cursebreakerfarrier and Bartholomew “Bat” Varney @carewyncromwell, and also referencing Danny Gibson @catohphm, Jackson Knightly, Rex Brokenshire, and Teddy, Adelia, Bertie, Violet, and Holly Selwyn-Ellison @thatravenpuffwitch

x~x~x~x

It was a significant event in 1915 when Atticus Grimsley finally retired from the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His successor ended up being one of Atticus’s former students, a well-respected Auror named Dan Gibson, who was soon embraced by the remaining faculty and students just as Atticus had been when he’d first arrived. Not that Atticus had had any doubts -- Danny had always been a very bright lad, and it was good to see him prosper.

Even in retirement, however, Atticus continued to visit Hogsmeade village regularly. Although yes, it was a good way for him to catch up with his former work colleagues and students, all those who knew Atticus knew the main reason was so that Atticus could spend quality time with his closest companion -- the vampire called Bartholomew Varney.

Varney, affectionately called “Bat” by just about everyone, was an oddity among his kind. Whereas many vampires actively tried to cloister themselves away in colonies far away from humans so as to not provoke their blood lust, Bat spent his days meditating in the attic of Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop and spent his nights wandering through the village. There he’d enjoy the atmosphere, go shopping, and even engage with those precious few students from the neighboring school who earned his esteem enough to merit a lecture in History of Magic or Potions. And, of course, he’d talk and laugh with “Grim,” as he affectionately called Atticus, for hours on end, well into the night and more warmly than with anyone else. Then they’d often leave the village together, still talking avidly, with Bat returning to Honeydukes in the wee hours of the morning, just before sunrise.

They were a funny pair, Bat Varney and Atticus Grimsley -- funnier still, many thought, as Atticus got older and grayer and Bat remained ever youthful in look, even despite his hollowed-out eyes and sickly pale complexion. There were points where Bat almost treated Atticus like his aging uncle, in how he’d help his compatriot up out of his chair, and yet there were other times they acted almost like a couple, in how Bat would help Atticus put his coat back on, before going back outside. And still even throughout all that, regardless of the little gestures here and there, every day they smiled, laughed, teased, debated, entertained, and confided in each other like nothing less than the very best of friends.

One of these many nights Atticus and Bat spent together was in the fall of 1927, in the height of the so-called “roaring 20′s.” Atticus had come down with a rather nasty chest cold, so Bat had swung by his cottage in Cumbria to cheer his friend up and brew him some proper Pepper-up Potions, along with the usual Sleeping Draught. Bat clearly took great pleasure in the opportunity to be useful to his old friend -- he was even humming to himself as he set about chopping up the mandrake root on Atticus’s kitchen counter.

“Joy to the world -- the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King...”

Atticus couldn’t fight back the tired grin winding its way onto his face. “Singing Christmas carols? Come now, Bat, we’ve not even passed October yet...”

“Mayhaps if Halloween developed some proper carols of its own, I could sing those instead,” Bat called over playfully from the next room. “Until then, I shall just have to enjoy the best time of the year a bit early -- goodness knows those two months will fly by soon enough...”

Atticus shook his head amusedly. It was something he regretted, though, when his sinuses began to pound behind his eyes angrily -- the older man flopped back down onto his pillows with a low groan.

Bat strolled through the open door of Atticus’s room, a tray in his hands. Stacked haphazardly on it was a full tea service, a goblet with white steam coming off of it, and two leather-bound books. There was also a newspaper folded under Bat’s arm -- no doubt the most recent edition of the Evening Prophet -- and the familiar white stick of a Blood Pop sticking out of his mouth.

“Hang in there, Grim,” he said with a slightly wry, but still rather gentle expression. “I’m coming.”

He put the tray, books, and newspaper down on Atticus’s side table and immediately moved to Atticus’s bedside, the steaming goblet in hand.

“Can you sit up on your own?” he asked.

Atticus coughed loudly, only to hold his head at the pain that shot through as a result. “Of course I can -- I’m not that infirm...”

The over-sixty-year-old man eased himself up into a seated position in bed. Atticus’s stubbornness only served to make Bat grin that bit more toothily around his Blood Pop.

“What’s that smirk for?” Atticus asked with a soft grunt as he adjusted himself so he could lean back against his headboard.

Bat’s grin only broadened. “Nothing. Just thinking you haven’t changed a bit.”

Atticus gave a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Rubbish. The very first thing out of your mouth when you arrived was that it looked like I’d grown another gray hair.”

It was a comment that had hurt more than Atticus would’ve ever admitted. He hated knowing he was getting older. Ironically it was something he’d never paid much mind to before -- he’d found himself losing track of his own birthdays even back when he was still a boy -- but since befriending Bat, Atticus had become much more aware of it. The ex-professor knew that Bat had had to disappear from his loved ones’ lives, just to keep his sanity in the face of watching them shrivel up and die before his eyes while he stayed the same. And yet Bat was staying by Atticus, even as he aged. And once he’d retired, Atticus found himself somewhat adrift without the consistent, relentless schedule of teaching. It had certainly been nice to have so much time to himself at the start, but it was also a bit terrifying, to have this thing that had defined so much of his life suddenly be gone...to not be as quick or strong as he once was...to catch himself having to refresh himself on routine spells like Aguamenti, simply because he’d gotten out of the habit of using them...

With a chuckle, Bat sat down on the bed beside Atticus. He slid the smoking goblet into his hands, holding both of them around the piping-hot glass, no doubt to ensure Atticus had a secure grip on it before letting go. Atticus himself, however, couldn’t stop himself from staring down at their joined hands: Bat’s as strong as ever, no matter how sickly pale, over his own rosy, but age-spotted and wrinkled ones.

“You got it?” said Bat.

“Of course I’ve got it,” Atticus shot back, a bit more sourly than he meant, as he pulled his hands and the goblet out of Bat’s grip. “Stop treating me like an old man.”

He took a long sip, only to choke at the feeling of the hot liquid scalding his throat. Once he’d recovered, Atticus quickly finished it off, breathing in the steam as it poured through his stuffed-up nostrils, dissipating the mucus and phlegm clogging up his sinuses.

“I’m the old man out of the two of us, Grim.”

When Atticus looked up at Bat again, the vampire’s expression had lost the smile, becoming a bit more serious. The ex-professor averted his eyes down to the still smoking goblet.

“Yes, obviously,” Atticus said uncomfortably, “but it doesn’t show on you. But I’m not that helpless, you know -- you don’t have to coddle me so much.”

“I’m doing that because you’re sick, Grim, not because you’re old.”

Bat considered Atticus for a moment. Then he gave a great suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth and, very tentatively, brought up a cold hand to Atticus’s forehead, so as to feel his temperature.

Atticus flushed a very dark red. “...B-Bat?”

Bat’s scarlet eyes were locked on his hand on Atticus’s forehead rather than Atticus’s face as he gave another loud slurp to the Blood Pop in his mouth.

“I won’t be able to stay into the morning,” he said lowly. “I’ve got to make sure you’ll be all right, before I leave.”

Atticus stared up at Bat, taken aback by just how serious he looked. He could feel his heart racing, and he tried desperately to will it into submission -- he knew Bat would be able to both hear and feel it, and the last thing he wanted was to needlessly antagonize his blood lust.

“I’m all right, Bat,” he murmured, his voice coming out oddly breathy. “I am.”

Bat gave another loud suck to the Blood Pop in his mouth as he looked at Atticus. Atticus could see red creeping in on the edge of his friend’s eyes and could tell he was having trouble, being so close to him -- and yet he powered through all the same.

“You will be,” he said softly. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Smoothing Atticus’s graying, sweat-soaked bangs from his face, Bat then closed his eyes and forcibly removed himself, retreating to the corner of the room so he could take his pewter flask out of the inside of his waistcoat and take a long swig. Then, taking several deep breaths, he chucked the spent white stick from his mouth, took a fresh Blood Pop out of his pocket, and stuck in his mouth before sweeping back toward the kitchen.

“I forgot,” he said in a noticeably brighter tone, “The eldest Honeydukes gave me some hazelnut chocolate scones for me to bring along for you.”

Atticus blinked. “Really? That was thoughtful of her.”

He shifted his gaze down to the tea service Bat had put out. The vampire had already prepared Atticus a cup of tea just the way he liked it, so the ex-professor gently picked it up and sipped it as he picked up the Evening Prophet next to the tray.

The tea smelled lovely. His nose was already clearing up nicely.

“Indeed,” Bat said amusedly. “She recalled your ‘voracious sweet tooth’ and thought you’d be the best test subject for her new recipe.”

Atticus bit back a laugh. “Considering the talent of the chocolatier in question, I’m sure it’ll be lovely.”

Taking another sip of his tea, he perused the front page. The headline at the top, however, dimmed the light in his expression significantly.

GELLERT GRINDELWALD TERRORIZES PARIS

Rally hosted by infamous Dark wizard ends in an explosion of magical flames only barely contained by French Aurors

‘First New York City and now Paris,’ thought Atticus grimly. ‘He’s getting bolder, if he feels brave enough to act out in such large cities, protected by such powerful magical ministries...’

“...working on a new caramel recipe, if you’d like to try that as well...”

“Mm,” said Atticus, only vaguely taking in what Bat had said. The article was holding his attention captive.

‘Thirty dead or wounded...a good chunk of them French Aurors who’d been purposefully lured to the event, just to be made an example out of...burned alive with a lethal casting of Protego Diabolica...’

The mental image of a dozen young men with faces like the wizards he used to work with at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement rippled over Atticus’s mind, making his stomach clench with nausea.

A clink to his left made Atticus straighten up sharply. Bat had returned with one of Madam Honeydukes’s scones and had just put the plate down on the tray beside the teapot.

“You’re going to lose your appetite, reading that,” Bat said lowly.

Atticus couldn’t tell if Bat was reproaching him or not -- it made him react a bit defensively.

“I want to know what’s going on in the world, Bat, whether I’m sick or not.”

To Atticus’s surprise, Bat’s expression actually softened.

“...I understand.”

He held out his hand expectantly.

“Hand me your cup -- I’ll pour you a new one.”

Atticus frowned. “I can do it my -- ”

“I know you can,” Bat cut him off smoothly. “But I want to do it.”

Atticus considered Bat for a moment, his eyes flitting down to his open hand. Then he relented, handing the empty cup over to Bat so that he could pour Atticus a new cup of tea and add in the proper amount of sugar and milk.

“It’s disgusting,” Atticus murmured.

Bat handed him the cup. “You mean Grindelwald and not the tea, I hope?”

“Yes, of course,” Atticus said quickly. His face then grew that bit grimmer. “...What he did to those Aurors -- to the city -- to his own supporters, just for not being loyal enough. And all in the name of ‘protecting’ the Wizarding World!” His blue eyes flared with anger. “It’s absolutely vile.”

Bat’s own scarlet eyes hardened significantly. “It is. As are all people like him.”

He picked up the empty potion goblet and strolled back out into the kitchen as if to go clean it out.

“Men like Grindelwald...they don’t see anyone else as truly human, unless they align perfectly with their demented world view. Unless they’re wizards, or white, or Protestant, or Pureblood, or whatever else they’ve decided elevates them over everyone else. And, of course, unless they likewise ascribe to the idea that those people are inherently superior, for that reason...for what does it matter if you’re the perfect Pureblood specimen, if you’re a ‘blood traitor’ that sees other people as just as human as you are?”

Bat’s voice, however level and quiet, betrayed a lot of resentment and righteousness, smoldering just under the surface.

Atticus’s eyes narrowed a bit as he nodded.

“For the life of me, I will never understand such people,” he said. “Though I suppose in a way, that’s probably a good thing.”

“It is,” agreed Bat. “One thing is for sure, though -- blokes like Grindelwald don’t stop until they’re forced to. Yes, the British Ministry was able to prevent Grindelwald from torching Paris, but they didn’t capture him. They didn’t incapacitate him. Therefore it’s only a matter of time before he does something else that’s much worse.”

Atticus took another sip of tea. As he did, however, something made him pause, his lips lingering on the cup. He skimmed the article one more time, before straightening up a bit to look out the doorframe toward the kitchen.

“...British Ministry?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. “In the article, it says the French Aurors dealt with it.”

There was a very long silence. It was only punctured by the light clink and snap of Bat cleaning out the goblet and putting it back in the kitchen cabinet.

“Bat?” said Atticus.

Bat didn’t answer. Atticus’s frown deepened.

“Bat -- ”

“I heard you.”

Bat’s voice had become quieter and more detached. The sound troubled Atticus that bit more -- Bat only ever detached emotionally when he was upset. It made Atticus inch himself out of bed, supporting himself on the edge of his headboard as he straightened up and shuffled over to the doorframe.

He found Bat cleaning the kitchen, wiping the counter clean with a wet rag. His eyes were focused solely on what he was doing, so it was clearly busy work more than anything: something to distract him. He did stiffen ever-so-slightly when Atticus approached -- no matter how quiet Atticus might try to be, he could never sneak up on a vampire. Not that Atticus cared -- he had no interest in getting the drop on Bat. Instead he merely walked over to stand beside his friend, leaning on the edge of the counter and watching his pale, gaunt face as he stubbornly refused to look at him.

“Robert,” Atticus said a bit more gently.

The name had a visible impact on Bat. It made something flutter through his expression -- something more youthful and almost vulnerable -- to the point that it was almost like a boyish flush, bringing life back into his palid cheeks. He turned to Atticus very abruptly, his scarlet eyes seeming oddly rounder than before. It made the sharp, bright light in them shine more handsomely than ever -- more like a young man, rather than that of an old soul trapped in a young frame.

The handsomeness of Bat’s eyes didn’t falter even as he his expression turned much more evasive and hesitant.

“...The French Aurors at the event were all slaughtered,” Bat admitted softly at last. “The Aurors who saved Paris were from our department, in Britain. ...It’s something Minister Fawley doesn’t want circulated, when the British Ministry has been trying to keep its activity in other countries quiet.”

Atticus’s eyebrows furrowed. “...Well, yes, I suppose that’s understandable -- but if that’s true, then how are you aware of it? If you’ve heard of it from an outside source, then clearly it’s already being circulated -- ”

Bat looked Atticus straight-on in the eye, and Atticus’s words died in his throat. His eyes widened slowly.

“...They told you?” he whispered.

Bat inclined his head in something of a short nod, his scarlet eyes drifting away, up onto the kitchen window.

“But -- ” Atticus stammered, “ -- but if the Ministry told you, that means that they trust you with that kind of intelligence! And the only people that the Ministry of Magic would trust with that kind of intelligence would be people who work for them. Aurors, Unspeakables, investigators...”

“...And other such agents,” Bat finished off grimly. “Yes.”

Atticus stared at Bat for a moment. Then his eyes slowly lit up and his mouth spread into an incredulous smile.

“...You’re helping the Ministry fight Grindelwald?” he whispered.

“In a way,” Bat said uncomfortably. “I’m more an academic resource than anything. Adelia put me in contact with Minister Knightly several years back, and he sent me messages inquiring about certain things...asking me to put my ear to the ground in Knockturn Alley and such, among like-minded Dark wizards. Just try to sort out the source of Grindelwald’s new-found power, and what he might aim to do with it. Not that old Fawley’s been very forthcoming with help -- reckon it’s only because of the few contacts I worked with in the Department of Mysteries following up with me that I’ve gotten any updates since Knightly left office...”

Bat’s dismissiveness toward his work didn’t dampen Atticus’s smile one bit. On the contrary, the ex-professor was so delighted by it that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing his compatriot’s shoulders. The affectionate gesture visibly startled Bat.

“Bat, that’s wonderful,” said Atticus. “With how much you’ve studied over the years...why, that kind of knowledge must be invaluable, to the fight against Grindelwald.”

His blue eyes sparkled with pride.

“It was brilliant of Ms. Selwyn-Ellison, to suggest you to the Minister. And so good of you, to do it...I know you’ve never much liked the Ministry, so you putting your differences with them aside, to fight Grindelwald -- it’s so good of you, to put the safety of others first.”

Red pricked at the edges of Bat’s eyes in response to Atticus’s proximity. Upon noticing it, Atticus’s smile flickered and died and he immediately backed away.

“Forgive me, I -- I forgot myself -- ”

To Atticus’s surprise, though, Bat didn’t distance himself further. On the contrary, he took the spent Blood Pop stick out of his mouth, replaced it, and then extended an arm so as to wrap it around Atticus and pull him up beside his chest. Bat buried his face right beside Atticus’s neck, while Atticus’s face landed right on Bat’s chest -- right beside the cursed, undead heart that pumped the blood Bat had to consume so regularly, just to keep his body and mind from going insane from blood lust...

“Bat?” said Atticus, startled.

The breaths that hit Atticus’s neck from Bat’s nose were as supernaturally cold as his hand as it anchored itself on the back of Atticus’s head.

“Thanks, Grim,” Bat murmured.

Atticus could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, and he relaxed a bit despite himself. It was a reaction most anyone else would’ve been shocked by, considering he currently had a vampire’s fangs mere inches from his neck.

But Atticus wasn’t afraid. Bat would never harm him. He would never harm anyone, unless it was to protect someone he loved...

Atticus heard Bat take a very shaky breath and could tell that he was struggling to restrain himself. Bringing a hand up to hold onto the back of Bat’s shirt, he gently pried himself out of Bat’s arms.

“Robert,” he said softly, “you should let go now.”

But Bat seemed oddly reluctant to let go, even though his fangs were lengthening. His eyes were shut tight as his hand tangled itself that bit more in the dark strands of Atticus’s hair.

“Not yet,” he rasped.

Atticus’s eyes grew softer still. “Robert...”

“I can do it,” he repeated, a bit shakily. “I can do it.”

He took a sip from his flask without even taking the Blood Pop out of his mouth. Then, ignoring the fangs still at the front of his mouth, he brought his head down to rest on top of Atticus’s.

“I want to remember,” the vampire murmured beside Atticus’s hair.

Atticus blinked. “Remember what?”

“What I’m fighting for, every time I go out and scout out information, for those Ministry sheep.”

Atticus’s lip twitched with a faintly exasperated frown. “I was one of those so-called ‘sheep,’ as you might recall -- as was Mr. Gibson, and as is Mr. Ellison.”

“Every flock needs a few sheepdogs around, to give them some direction,” Bat said dismissively.

“So says someone who turns into a dog on a regular basis, whenever he needs to shepherd the Selwyn-Ellison children back to school.”

Bat chuckled lowly as his long-fingered hand trailed through Atticus’s hair absently. The ex-professor felt his flush darken that bit more every time Bat’s cold fingertips grazed the back of his neck.

“You see, Grim?” he said softly. His set of four sharp, cat-like fangs glinted brightly as he smiled. “This is it. What I’m fighting for, right here.”

Atticus cocked an eyebrow. “Friendly banter?”

“You,” Bat corrected him. He closed his eyes as he grinned around the Blood Pop in his mouth. “When I’m with you, or Danny, or Rex, or Adelia, or Teddy, or Bertie or Vi or little Holly-berry...the Honeydukes family, and your students and mine...”

He opened his eyes again, smiling fully and handsomely no matter how monstrous his entirely scarlet eyes looked.

“...When I see you all live your lives, and can be part of them, even just in some small way...it’s like...I’m almost me, again. Who I was before. When I can talk about silly things with you -- solve your problems and make you smile...you make me feel alive. More alive than I have in a hundred and forty years.”

Atticus felt his heart swell in his chest, seeing such sincere joy in his friend’s face. When he’d first met Bat in Hogsmeade, he never could’ve imagined such a mysterious, reclusive vampire could smile like that -- such a warm smile, such soft and...well, beautiful. As beautiful as a sunrise...a sunrise this man would never be able to enjoy again, all because of his condition that made it so that everything around him would wither away, while he stayed exactly the same...

Bat felt happy -- he felt alive, because of Atticus. It was such an empowering, yet bittersweet feeling: like a bite of savory chocolate with a terribly harsh aftertaste. It made Atticus swallow back the lump in his throat and, after the shortest hesitation, throw out his hand and clutch the back of Bat’s waistcoat and hold his friend tighter.

“You...” Atticus whispered, “...are more alive than any other man I have ever known in my life, Robert Harker.”

Bat’s hand in Atticus’s hair stilled.

“Blood lust or no -- vampirism or no,” Atticus said more firmly, “you love life, and the people around you, more deeply than any human man. More deeply than I will likely ever know.”

Atticus’s mouth spread into a wide, open grin beside Bat’s undead heart.

“Don’t ever change. No matter what -- stay just the way you are.”

Bat was very quiet for a long moment. Then, clutching Atticus’s dark hair in his fist, he yanked himself away at last.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “I can’t -- ”

He spat out the Blood Pop, his claw-like hand fumbling inside his waistcoat for his pewter flask. Atticus immediately reached out to help secure Bat’s shaking hand around the flask so it was easier to take a swig, and also reached into Bat’s pocket to unwrap another Blood Pop for him so that when he’d finally chugged down a good gallon’s worth of blood, Bat could immediately stick the Pop in his mouth and take several good deep breaths.

Once he’d recovered himself, the vampire chuckled.

“See?” he said playfully. “Told you I was the old man, out of the two of us.”

Atticus smiled wryly. “You know, you’re right. I think I can see the white hairs from here.”

Bat laughed louder still, as happily and sincerely as a man with no burdens to bear. It was a sound that likewise made Atticus’s smile grow that bit wider and his eyes sparkle that bit more brightly.

#hphl #hogwarts legacy #my writing #atticus grimsley #bartholomew varney #adelia selwyn #danny gibson #jackson knightly #gellert grindelwald #goddamn it I love these two much I can't stand it!!#feels so good to write for them again <33 #being set in 1927 this is a mere fourteen years before bat's death #and yup bat was secretly helping the british ministry fight grindelwald even way back then #oh also halloween *does* have some good songs now #but back in bat's lifetime? nope #I'd say most of the good halloween songs popped up in the 80's 90's and 00's #namely the nightmare before christmas soundtrack disturbia thriller and the like #happy birthday grim my dear!!

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witcheradventcalendar · 3 years ago

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Welcome to the Witcher Advent Calendar 2021

For December this year you can chose from 125 prompts (each day has 5 prompts to chose from) along the themes of Witcher gear, Winter themed, Alchemy ingredients, Kink and Emotion.

You can create art, fic, edits or anything else you can think of throughout the 1th to 25th of December..

Any ship or non-ship is welcome. You can chose as many or as little prompts as you’d like.

If you post your work on Tumblr, please tag @witcheradventcalendar or simply tag us so we can share your post on our blog. On AO3 you can add your post to this collection.

Under the cut are all prompts listed for a reader-friendly version.

Witcher gear

1. Witcher Medallion 2. Swallow 3. White Gull 4. Silver Sword 5. Instrument 6. Steel Sword 7. Runes / Runestones 8. Axii 9. Cat Potion 10. Junk Item/s 11. Igni 12. Oil 13. Towel 14. Aard 15. Witcher Armor 16. Oren / Floren 17. Quen 18. Trophy hook 19. Notice Board 20. Yrden 21. Bombs 22. Mask 23. Heliotrop 24. Food/Drink 25. Gifts

Winter themed

1. Snow 2. Mulled Wine 3. Evergreen 4. Peppermint 5. Cranberry 6. Candle 7. Sugar Cookie 8. Cinnamon 9. Reindeer 10. Campfire 11. Garland 12. Hot Chocolate 13. Winter Spice 14. Tree 15. Ice Fishing 16. Winter clothes 17. Gift shopping 18. Huddling for Warmth 19. Snowflakes 20. Skating 21. Holly 22. Ice 23. Sleigh Ride 24. Longest Night 25. Snowed in

Alchemy Ingredients

1. Honeysuckle 2. Aether 3. Allspice 4. Bloodmoss 5. Dark Essence 6. Ergot Seeds 7. Fool's Parsley 8. Hellebore 9. Light Essence 10. Saltpeter 11. Mandrake Roots 12. Nilfgaardian Lemon 13. Phosphorous 14. Specter Dust 15. Temerian Rye 16. Vampire Fang 17. Verbena 18. Vermillion 19. Wolfsbane 20. Crow's Eye 21. Archas Venom 22. Crystalised Essence 23. Golem's Heart 24. Cherry Cordial 25. Mistletoe

Kinks

1. Pogonophilia 2. Teratophilia 3. Breeding Bench 4. Shibari 5. Size Difference 6. Cum Inflation 7. Public Sex 8. Spanking 9. Cock warming 10. Overstim/Edging 11. Oviposition 12. Chastity Device 13. Humiliation 14. Double Penetration 15. Wax Play 16. Fisting 17. Daddy/Mommy Kink 18. Lingerie 19. Watersports 20. A/B/O or Knotting 21. Orgy 22. Objectification 23. Somnophilia 24. Rimming 25. Free Use

Emotions

1. Anticipation 2. Happiness 3. Tired 4. Pleased 5. Tranquil 6. Shame 7. Pity 8. Agitation 9. Exhaustion 10. Rage 11. Remorse 12. Stressed 13. Affection / Adoration 14. Fine 15. Pride 16. Obsession 17. Lonely 18. Amused 19. Empty 20. Relief 21. Sad 22. Embarrassment 23. Reflect 24. Love 25. Jolly

#witcher event #geralt of rivia #cirilla fiona elen riannon #yennefer of vengerberg #Jaskier #dandelion #lambert #eskel #vesemir

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fanfics4all · 27 days ago

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Mint

Request: Yes / No Fluffcember Day 29

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Ambrose Spellman x Fem!Reader

Word count: 639

Warnings: Just fresh fluff!

Prompt(s): Mint

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(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The Spellman Mortuary was decked out in a strange but oddly fitting mix of holiday decorations and eerie decor. Candles flicker alongside garlands of pine, and silver tinsel caught the light, casting shadows that made the place feel as enchanted as it was mysterious. The familiar hum of magic filled the air as Ambrose and I hovered over a bubbling cauldron in the dimly lit kitchen.

“Alright…” He said, grinning as he carefully measured out crushed peppermint leaves.

“A pinch of mint should ass a festive twist, don’t you think?” I laughed, watching as he dropped the mint into the cauldron. The bubbling potion turned a pale, frosty blue and let off a sweet, cool scent that filled the kitchen with something between holiday cheer and mystery. Ambrose was in his element, his eyes bright with excitement as he stirred the potion.

“What’s next Potion Master?” I tased, crossing my arms and watching him smile. He wiggled his eyebrows, looking very pleased with himself.

“Next, a touch of cinnamon bark for warmth and a sash of star anise for luck. We can’t have a proper Yule potion without luck, now can we?” I shook my head, charmed by his attention to detail. He moved with an elegance that was uniquely his. Every sprinkle, stir, and whispered incantation was infused with precision and care. I handed him the small vial of cinnamon, watching as he added it to the cauldron. A warm, spiced aroma mingled with the cool mint. The mixture was turning into something magical, even to someone without an ounce of witchy blood like me.

“Do I get to help?” I asked, reaching for the rod. He placed it in my hand, his fingers brushing mine, and it lingered for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Of course, love. Give it three gentle stirs clockwise, then tap the edge twice. We want to coax out the mint’s energy, not overwhelm it.” He said softly.

With his instructions, I stirred. I felt a spark of magic course through the rod. The potion responded, bubbling and glowing faintly and I glanced up at him surprised.

“You’ve got the touch.” He whispered, his eyes sparkling as he watched me.

“Maybe it’s rubbing off on me.” My cheeks warming. He chuckled, taking my hand again and guiding me to sprinkle a bit of crushed holly berries into the potion. The cauldron gave off a soft, cool burst of minty mist that swirled around us, shimmering with flecks of silver like tiny snowflakes. It was enchanting and I couldn’t help but be amazed at the way Ambrose could transform even the smallest ingredients into something beautiful.

“Alright…” He dipped the ladle into the potion and poured a small amount into a glass vial. He handed it to me with a grin.

“...our very own Yuletide Elixir. It’ll bring clarity, warmth, and just a hint of seasonal spirit.” I held up the vial, watching the pale blue liquid shimmer in the light.

“What exactly does it do?”

“Ah, that’s for you to discover. It’s personalized. You may find it brings you unexpected joy, or a little good luck, or perhaps just a bit of festive cheer. It’s different for everyone.” He explained. I smiled, cradling the vial in my hand.

“Well, let’s find out.” Ambrose took my other hand and raised the potion in a toast.

“To us, and to finding magic in the little things.” We both took a sip and the cool refreshing tingle spread through me, like the taste of mint, snow, and spice all at once. I felt a burst of joy that seemed to light up my entire chest and I looked at Ambrose, feeling like we were the only two people in the world.

“Merry Christmas, Ambrose.” I whispered and he smiled, pulling me in for a kiss.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1

#fanfic #prompt #the chilling adventures of sabrina #the chilling tales of sabrina #the chilling adventures of sabrina imagin #tcaos #ambrose spellman #ambrose spellman imagine #ambrose spellman x reader #ambrose spellman x fem!reader #ambrose x reader #ambros x fem!reader #fluff #fluffcember #fluffcember 2024 #fluffcember day 29 #mint

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minzart · 4 years ago

Text

💀Idia shroud

Idia really wants that skin but is out of money, so yuu got an idea and luckily there is a racing competition happening on the island

Gender neutral Yuu

Idia's bike is called Cerberus bc I said so

___________☆____________

Vroom Vroom

"Shit" idia murmurs to himself

"Got a bad roll?" Yuu comented from the bed, ever since the gremlin kicked the door to his room, screamed something about overblots, and demanded potion lessons, the two of them have developed a unique kind of... friendship? You could call it friendship, not sure, didn't ask and now it's too awkward to do so.

"I can't roll, that's the problem" Idia sulks at his chair "money's out, spend every bit on yesterday banner getting that cute cat skin for Princess Minya. And now, out of fucking nowhere! The surprise banner is offering a limited version of Clipsa's hell form"

"Aren't you rich tho? Ask your parents, they sure give you a lot of money"

"They only refill it every month or so, and I really need the rest for Ortho's upgrades.... I could delay them for a bit...."

Yuu face light up, they start to tipe furiously on their phone while Idia contemplates on his decision

"AH HA!" Yuu shouts waking idia from his thoughts

"W-what?! Found something?"

"You have a bike right?"

"Yeah, so what ?"

"You could compete on the racing that's happening on the island today!"

"W-!"

"The prize is 20 000 madol~" they shake their phone in his face "which makes... 50 pulls I think"

Idia eyes shine, with that much he could get that skin! But... "w-what about p-people... there sure would be so many people all of themlookatmeandshoutingandscreamingandcreeringthersamobgottabetherethelocalistoofavoraveltothemohgodsohshiti-"

"You'll go with a helmet!" They hold idia's pulse, stopping him from eating more nails.

"...Eh?"

"nobody will know it's you! It'll be ok then right?"

"A... helmet... yeah... YEAH THEN NOBODY WILL SEE ME!" He press a button on his side "Ortho get Cerberus ready, gotta race to win"

"Not gonna lie, you are kinda of badass when motivated"

"S-shut up normie " idia makes his way to the pile of clothes on the floor and murmurs "where did I put it"

"Wait... YOU ALREADY HAVE GEAR?!"

"I have a goddam bike did you really think I wouldn't have this shit? who do you think tested it? Now get out!"

Yuu eyes shine with excitement, that idea was a shot on the dark, but great seven if it wasn't a great shot.

-------- ignyhide dorm mainhall -------

Idia's out of his room after some time, wearing a black leather outfit with blue details, on the back of his jacket, three dog's skulls with blue flames eyes are stamped, with a black helmet in hands the visor having a filter to make sure no one saw his face

"It's been a long time since you wore those big brother!" Ortho coments happily, he seems very excited to finally see his brother out with a friend without his own little pushes "soooo you guys are going to town?"

"Yep!"

"Unfortunately" idia sings in annoyance "did you registered us ortho?"

"Yes! We were so lucky! The subscriptions stopped five seconds ago! The race starts in 10 minutes from now"

"C'mon let's go, faster we go, faster it's finished" Idia takes the lead guiding them to Cerberus

"put this" he handles a helmet to Yuu "now hop on we're losing seconds"

"I-I get to go?!"

"... gods give me patience, yes, you get to go, now hop on" idia puts his helmet hiding his hair, and lighting up the details on it, "those must be for his hair to breath or someting" yuu ponders while putting their own

The second yuu is on the bike, Idia accelerates

"HOLLY SHIT THIS THING IS FAST!"

"Hehehe" idia grins

They got to town in a matter of seconds, Yuu had to sit for a bit, legs shaking from the adrenalin "dude that was amazing! I swear we were gona fall at so many turns BUT YOU DID IT HOLLY SEVEN"

"Hm" idia muses at yuu's excitement

There were... less people than he expected, maybe it's a casual race, or they didn't know how to market it right, anyway, the less, the better, it's not like they got a chance anyway, Cerberus is on it's best performance since VDC, the money is already his, he can almost fell the trill of pulling for that skin

As expected some RSA mobs were there, dumbasses couldn't even stay quiet for a moment, and he could fell some savanaclaws ready to pick a fight, who knows, at the start of this race he may be the last one standing that could race and win by default, that would be faster than three rounds by the island.

At a quick glance he saw one of the competitors hiding something on the sleeves, and another is trying to sabotage the others without being caught, things never are easy are they? He should have brought Ortho... but he wasn't gonna back down now, besides he can just send a quick text and his brother would be there in a minute watching over him.

"I'll need you to control the shield" he murmurs

"What?"

"I put a shield sistem just in case, you're gonna pay attention to our surroundings and activate it when needed, it has a low durability and consumes too much battery, that's why you gotta be precise, got it?"

"Am I allowed to go with you?"

"This is a race with partners air head, you're the one to show me that but youself didn't knew, you really are bad at details"

"Hey! I at least got a solution to your problem, you are very welcome. Hmph"

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

5 competitors in the end, with the other 3 being: 1 desclacificated for cheating, and 2 beat up.

"At your places!"

Yuu fidgets with the shields controller

"ready!"

The bikers start the engines

"Set!"

Idia grins inside his helmet, just like anime, he can fell the palpable tension and rivalry of the opponents, this is gonna be fun

"GO!"

Leting a curtain of dirt behind, they got third place on the first round, Yuu didn't expected so many of the remaining candidates to fire their magic at them, one almost hit their face when they were too slow to activate the shield, Idia's eyes never got out of the course, managing the bike easily on the curves, using short cuts he learned on the first round and dodging any idiot on the road.

Second place on second round, just pass one more and use turbo, just pass, it's everything that he needs to do. The shield broke, they are neck a neck, the other's partner was gonna fire magic at his head, it was gonna hit, he couldn't dodge and if he slowed down they would win, he could just hope that wouldn't be a great impact-

A helmet hit the guy's face "KEEP GOING!" Yuu shouts on his back, that's right... he's not alone.

They win the race, he could see the skin on his loging screen already

"Great seven that was intense" Yuu lays on the ground trying to calm down "that guy was targetting you goddam head! IS THIS ALLOWED???"

"If noone sees, but we got the money, I'll call ortho to give you a ride"

"Awww can't I go back with you?"

"You threw the damn helmet out, I'm not risking being arrested by your crazy ideas"

"Crazy idea that gave you the win!"

__________________________

Author NOTES:

This one is referent from the beginning of idia's and yuu friendship (X)

This one is for the coments that made me write this, thank you so much for the serotonin (X)

Art (X)

Yes the title is Vroom Vroom bc I have the most great ideas to titles

See any tipo? Let me know!

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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 3 years ago

Note

Another fantasy AU inspired by a (very old) Fire Emblem game: S/O is married to and has a kid with (Joseph/Jonathan/Bruno). Only they end up kidnapped, brainwashed, and married to (Kars/Dio/Diavolo); Who they also end up having a child with.

Don't mind me indulging, this sort of thing is straight down my ally 😩

These are surprisingly long for summaries

Jonathan, Joseph and Bruno saving darling only to find out they've been brain washed.

Jonathan / dio

Dio's done everything in his power to tear darling and Jonathan apart. He's livid when he finds out about the wedding but plays it cool for now. He's soon to wed himself. He doesn't love the unfortunate bride and has already planned their unexpected death. After that he'll be king of the nearby kingdom and put his plans of stealing darling away.

It's a waiting game he hates, especially when rumours about s/o being pregnant reach his ears. When his wife dies. Jonathan and Darling come to give him their condolences and he knows immediately that the rumours were true and a few days after the baby is born

When Jonathan leaves to to resolve some issues with some of the kingdoms Dio strikes and captures darling and give them a choice. Either they drink a potion that'll make them lose all their memories or to have Jonathan and their child killed. They choose to drink to potion as they do not wish for their husband and child to die. However Dio partially breaks his promise, he has a group of bandits attempt to kill him, they believe they succeeded and return to Dio, leaving a severely injured Jonathan in the snow to be found by Erina, his childhood friend who nurses him for around a year.

On his long voyage home he hears that his wife remarried after his so called death. He's shocked horrified even and when he learns it was Dio that They married. He's quick in his journey back with a fiery anger fueling him. He knows that his attempted murder was his plan and that they'd not marry him by choice.

He storms into the castle where he sees Dio waiting for him at his throne. He demands to know where his wife and child are but Dio will not say, A fierce battle ensues and Jonathan just managed to win. He goes into the bedroom to see them asleep in bed. He wakes them up and they scream kicking and punching him. He's confused and hurt that they don't even know who he is. Then he hears the cries of his son and opens the curtains to the dressroom to find two cribs with a baby in each, one of course is his son but the other brings him dread and heartbreak. Darling is quick to attack him screaming at him to leave her children alone and asking where Dio is.

He really tries to convince s/o that they used to be together and that her eldest is his son. Perhaps there's a fairytale ending where her memories are restored or maybe darling does decide to stay with Jonathan but life will never be the same.

Darling has always been Joseph's voice of reason in his life, they're a case of opposites attract. S/O is trying to get him to settle down from his career as a monster hunter since they have Holly now but he doesn't want to, so in protest she has his grandmother look after the young girl while she ventures with him. He tries to get them to go home but they refuse. They'll nag him about how it he wants to continue then she and their daughter will have to start traveling with him just like what she's doing right now.

During the journey Joseph encounters Kars and is cursed in the process (idk what curse yet) and not long after he finds darling and snatches them away. Joseph is forced into a seemingly endless search around the country until he finds Kars lair. An abandoned castle where he finds s/o with their head on Kars lap as he stroked their hair. he mocks Joseph by telling him how nice darling is and alluding to something sexual about them. They fit him like glove he says.

Once Kars is defeated it's almost impossible for Joseph to pull darling off of him, it's heartbreaking for him to pry his wife off of the corpse of the monster who cursed him. What the hell happened to them he may never truely know.

Darling asks him to leave them alone but he refuses as he tries the get them to tell him what happened as soon as he hears a baby cry he's frozen. He's hoping that this is all a nightmare and that he'll wake up soon, he pinches himself but he doesn't wake up. He feels like he failed them, if he'd listened to them this would have never happened.

It takes a while for s/o to return to their former self and he's suprisingly fond of the other child.

Bruno was formally a captain in Diavolo's army before being discharged. He met his darling during a festival not long after he left, however their parents were nobles and weren't pleased that they chose a man that they hadn't arranged with. It was forbidden that they marry him but darling ran away and married Bruno.

A year or two has passed and darling becomes a seamstress and is ordered to come before king Diavolo and work on making him a new suit. Bruno tries to convince s/o to stay, he doesn't want them to leave him and their young child as he has a bad feeling about the ordeal however they still go, telling him it'll only be a week.

Once darling arrives to the castle they are warmly welcomed by servants to their beck and call everything seems normal for the first two days as they're told what the king wants and sorting through various materials but not once has they met the king. On the third night however they are invited to have dinner with him.

Things quickly turn south when they see that their parents are also present, they refuse to answer before the king arrives. When he does it's revealed that their parents have arranged their marriage with Diavolo. They are extremely opposed to the arrangement and try explaining to Diavolo that they are already married however it seems they never knew that on of the kingdoms rule conveniently stated that a marriage must have the consent of the parents involved, making their marriage void. S/O tries to escape but is quickly captured and locked in a room.

After a week has passed Bruno leaves his child with his mother while he goes to investigate. He gets no clue as to what happened so he goes to their parents house, they play innocent and tell him that they had no idea that darling was around and he's left with only one more place to look.

He goes before Diavolo and asks if he knew what happened and he tells him that they disappeared one night, telling him that they seemed rather depressed. He plants all these horrible ideas in Bruno's head but ultimately suggests he'll have to search the northest mountains as he's heard of a place where the lost are found there. He however refrained from mentioning the fact that ravenous harpies nest in that region. Hoping that he will die in the cold or the harpies tear him to shreds. A few doors down poor darling is trying to scream out through the gag that is over their mouth but no one can hear them.

After he leaves Diavolo returns to the room and blackmailing them, he knows who Their husband now. He'll tell them that he can force Bruno back into his army and have him killed or he can have him framed for a crime he didn't commit and have him executed. S/o doesn't want that to happen so they agree to marry him, but when the opportunity arises they try to escape but they're quickly brought back each time with each punishment growing more painful.

It takes close to a year for Bruno to get to the northest mountains and he encounters a flock of harpies and slays them but he finds no trace of darling being their so he makes the journey back and at an inn he asks the owner if she's seen or heard of where his wife might be. From the description she can not give him a certain answer but does tell him that King Diavolo recently married a similar looking woman who's name she can't remember, she also tells him they was missing an eye so it probably wouldn't be them. However it all clicks for him, how suspicious their parents where and how the king made such assumption about them.

When he finally returns he's quick to make his way to the castle he doesn't care if he's labelled as a traitor, he's livid and is quick to finish Diavolo but his darling isn't the same. They sit at her throne with lavish clothes and jewelry with a morbid expression on her face as they rock their daughter's crib. They look at him with a hazy eye theIr other replaced with a jade orb.

"you left me, not even on my wedding day did you try to stop him ,so why are you here now" are the cold words that escape their lips. He tries to explain but they continue to dismiss him. They seem almost lifeless, like all the happiness they had was torn to shreds. It's breaks his heart seeing what Diavolo did to his wife. He really tries to make it up to them, hoping one day they'll turn back into the same person he once knew, he hoped that bring their child back to see them would help but they were relatively unfazed. Eventually they remarry and he takes Trish in as his own daughter. As the new king he's quick to have their parents locked up for causing and allowing all those horrible things to happen to them.

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #kars jjba #bruno buccerati #jonathan joestar #dio jojo #jojo diavolo #joseph joestar

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