#Someone restrict magic privileges from this man

[thesecretwriter]

a memory, chapter 1 (tom riddle).

pairing: tom riddle x female reader

warnings: nothing hectic, it’s a slow burn beginning, but the foundation of it is needed for more important parts later.

summary: y/n find the diary of tom riddle and becomes curious when she finds that the diary is unlike any book shes encountered before as well as a man from the past who leaves her with even more questions.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: Happy reading, hope you enjoy!

minors/ageless blogs dni.

series masterlist

masterlist

Funny, the damage a silly little diary can do, especially in the hands of a mindless girl such as yourself.

The diary was found in the restricted section of the library that no one ventured into. You had got a hold of it when curiosity got the best of you. Hogwarts allowed you the privilege to use studying to explore topics not taught in the syllabus as one of the students who was furthering their studies.

There was nothing special about it, just a normal diary, but when your fingers first brushed against them, you felt a jolt of an unknown emotion that made you hastily grab the diary. The pages were blank, no writing, no drawings. Nothing.

How peculiar.

You made your way out of the library, taking your usual route back to your houses common room. However, you couldn’t shake off the feeling as if you were being watched.

You stopped walking as you turned down a dark hallway, waiting to see if someone was following you, but there were no sound of footsteps. You dismissed the feeling to your sleep deprivation and carried on to your common room.

So, you sat at the study table in your common room while your housemates slept soundly. You grabbed your quill and dipped it in the ink. You wrote your full name onto the first page and watched as your writing disappeared. It didn’t phase you since you expected it to be some kind of magical diary. However, it was what next appeared that baffled you.

Hello y/f/n.

You took in a deep breath and thought for a moment before writing again.

Is this an enchantment diary?

Maybe, maybe not.

Your brows furrowed. It seemed like it might’ve been like one of those items that Fred and George sell, but then why would it be in the restrict section of the Hogwarts library?

Why was this book hidden in the restricted section of the library?

The words disappeared like before.

So that it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.

You inhaled sharply and decided that was enough for today. Your curiosity got you this far, but you knew better than to dabble in this further. You closed the book and put it back into the pile of books and began your usual research.

In the following days, your mind couldn’t get rid of the thought of wanting to find out more about the diary. It’s as though you’re under a sort of spell of desire for it.

You found yourself in Professor Remus’ classroom. He seemed to be busy marking papers.

“Y/n, what do I owe the pleasure?” he said with a kind smile.

“Evening, professor. I was hoping to ask you a few questions about a recent topic I’m researching,” you said as nonchalantly as you could.

Professor Remus nodded in reply and set the papers in his hand aside.

“What questions do you have for me?” you walked to his desk and set your books aside.

You weren’t going to show him the diary, but you could work your way around finding out information.

“I was curious if it were possible to enchant a book, specifically a diary,” you explained.

“Enchant it in what way?” he asked slightly confused.

“Perhaps maybe having it reply to whatever is written inside of it,” you said to clarify.

He wondered for a moment. There were many books which he encountered that were enchanted, some even being textbooks used at Hogwarts like the Care of Magical Creatures textbook.

“There are books which are enchanted, but not in the way you mentioned,”

You sigh at his reply, not gaining anymore answers that the ones you had before.

“Alright, thank you, professor. For clarifying,” you said with a smile and nodded as a way of saying goodbye.

Just as you were about to exit the classroom, you heard his voice call out.

“I know you have an interest in researching topics, y/n, but if you find yourself too far in, it can be harmful,” he advised.

“I know, professor,” you smiled and continued on your way.

That night, you sat at the very same desk as before with the diary in front of you. Once again, you took the quill which was dipped in ink and wrote in the diary.

What are the origins of this book?

They disappear as usual and a few moments later you get a reply.

I don’t believe I can tell you…

You sigh in frustration and put the quill aside, just then, more words appear.

… but I can show you.

Your brows furrow in confusion and concern. Feeling like you have reached your point of research for the night, you went to close the diary when all of a sudden bright flashes of light came from the book and you felt yourself being pulled towards it.

You closed your eyes in preparation for what may come, but you felt nothing. You opened your eyes carefully to see yourself in the hallways of Hogwarts, but it seemed so different than what you’re used to seeing.

A shadow appears on the wall in front of you, and you quickly hide in an adjoined hallway. You heard the footsteps approaching, the figure came into view. It was a young man who seemed slightly older than you. His robes were of a different style but had the emblem of Slytherin.

The young man stopped his walking looked as if he was checking the hallways, when you looked more closely at his robes, you saw that he had a badge, a prefect badge. He started to walk in your direction, which caused you to walk backwards, but another voice interrupted both your movements.

“Tom,” a familiar voice called after him.

“Yes, professor?” Tom answered.

The source of the familiar voice came into view, and you were shocked to see Professor Dumbledore, but he seemed to be much younger than he is now.

“I think it would be okay for you to retire back to your living quarters,” Dumbledore advised.

Tom nodded his head in agreeance. “Very well, professor. I’m doing one last check around the halls, professor,”

Dumbledore nodded and bid Tom a goodnight.

You watched as Tom waited for Dumbledore to walk away before he continued on his way towards the hallway you were in. Which reminded you that you were trying to hide from him. However, as he walked towards you, he walked on as if he never saw you.

This further baffled you, but as your curiosity grew, you silently followed him. He walked to the end of the hallway and waited. The wall started to change, slowly revealing a door that was not there before.

He stepped inside and was about to close it, but he stopped and seemed as though he was looking right at you. Fear spread throughout you, though that was short lived when Tom closed the door.

As you took a step to walk forward, you felt the same feeling as when the diary consumed you. A bright flash of light appeared, your eyes closed and when you opened them again, you were in your common room, sat at the study table with the diary in front of you.

You were trying to compose yourself after what you’d just witnessed. Did you dose off and dream the whole thing? Was your lack of sleep catching up with you? what spell would cause such an effect?

All these questions jumbled into your mind, and you were about to stand up and gather your things, but then words appeared on the page in front of you.

Now you know who I am.

[autisticsupervillain]

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Stats Equalized!

This Month's Fighters...

Charlie Morningstar vs Feferi Piexes!

Conditions:

No Other Restrictions. Dubiously canon materials such as Epilogues and Pesterquest are ignored.

Scenario:

When the Alternian Empire launches an invasion of Hell, Feferi and Charlie try to broker a peace deal behind the scenes between the two sides. Learning of this: The Condescension murders Vaggie and frames Feferi for it to vandalize the efforts, successfully manipulating them into fighting to the death.

Analysis: Charlie Morningstar

At what point is a soul beyond redemption?

For a lot of people, that point would be hell. The chance to be a good person was the life you had before. Your punishment is this. The seven deadly layers of eternal punishment deep in hell.

Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell, daughter of Lucifer himself, rejects that premise. Though she was abandoned by her mother and her dream discouraged by her father, Charlie wanted the best for her people. Hell was overcrowded, its population only kept in check by the annual exterminations sent by the angels above. Her people deserved better, even if they were the worst of the worst. So, she founded the Happy Hotel to redeem sinners of all shapes and sizes! Later mockingly renamed the Hazbin Hotel by Alastor.

Charlie is effectively the Disney Princess of Hell and she's just as powerful as that title implies. She sits right near the top of Hell's hierarchy of power, above Overlords like Alastor and royalty like Stolas. She can go blow for blow with the First Man Adam, the leader of Heaven's armies and one of the oldest beings in all creation. Her magical abilities are so inherently powerful, her musical numbers seem almost reality warping in scope, creating pianos with a finger snap, warping clouds into existence, and creating a candyland during various musical numbers. But, in a more combat oriented scenario, she can just snap her fingers and blow you the fuck up with fireworks! That works too! Or fly through the skies on her steads Razzle and Dazzle.

See, Charlie is a sinner demon on her Mom's side and an angel on her dad's, so she has the advantages of both physiologies. As an angel, nothing short of angelic weaponry can harm her due to her unreleting power, where as a demon, her body will always be rebuilt from her soul every time she dies (as stated in an interview by Viziepop herself. Sinners will simply regenerate from their souls unless killed with a holy weapon). Hell, given Lucifer was on the verge of killing Adam in their fight, it's entirely possible that her fists count as holy weapons and that she could kill an angel or demon by herself if she wanted. This makes her a nigh unstoppable force in combat... when she actually wants to fight.

See, Charlie's status in Hell leaves her fairly.... disconnected with the realities of her situation. Her compassion towards her subjects can sometimes come as condescending and she has very limited idea on how to actually help someone whose been beaten down into a place like Hell, occasionally even making their situations worse. She's well meaning, just privileged.

As such, she often hesitates to fight at all or even let herself get upset at times. So despite being easily centuries old, she has little actual combat experience.

But despite all sides working against, Charlie did indeed prove it was possible for a damned soul to get into Heaven. When she saw the best in Sir Pentious, she genuinely managed to change him as a person, inspiring him to perform a heroic sacrifice that got his soul into Heaven.

Perhaps Charlie's dream is a genuine possibility. Only time will tell. But despite everything, Charlie will always work to save her people, even the worst of them. With enough will and a little luck, she might just bring some Heaven to Hell.

Analysis: Feferi Piexes

The Alternian Empire. The scourge of the galaxy. A hellish, caste driven regime that has terrorized and subjugated all life it could find for generations, ruled over by the brutal warrior race known as the trolls.

Could such an empire ever be redeemed? It may be a naive question to ask. A hopeless endeavor to introduce kindness to a people who had only ever known fear. But, regardless, Feferi Piexes thought it was her duty to try.

Feferi was born into royalty at the top of Alternia's eugenicist caste system. With Fuschia blood pumping through her vains, Feferi is a queen amongst the sea fairing royal caste and the heiress next in line for the throne. She wishes to redefine "culling" as caring for the unfit and infirm as opposed to... well... exterminating them. To this end, she must challenge the Condescension herself to combat and earn her place on the throne.

Unfortunately, this plan gets a bit derailed when armageddon comes knocking on her door, which immediately changes her priorities to surviving the trials of a deadly reality warping video game and ensuring the continuation of her race into the next universe.

Luckily, Feferi is every bit as badass as her seat on the throne would imply, despite her kind and excitable nature. One doesn't make big plans for the seat of Alternia without the drive to back it up. Feferi and her team of friends would battle against the forces of Derse, a kingdom of destruction that has warred against its equal and opposite since its inception centuries ago, and do extraordinarily well. Even the King of Derse, fully upgraded with the powers of Feferi's eldritch mother Gl'bgolyb, stood little chance against the combined teamwork of all of them put together.

That would likely have to do with Feferi's complete immunity to telepathic attacks, such that even the psychic cry of Gl'bgolyb, which wipes out every other troll in the universe by melting their brains, can't kill her. Thanks to a lot of genetic tampering and civilization guidance from behind the scenes manipulators, Fuschia bloods are the toughest trolls around, supremely strong and resilient, capable of breathing underwater, and nigh unkillable to anything short of a god killing weapon. Or, failing that, a supremely powerful magic wand. Most highbloods can live for hundreds of thousands of years and Fuschia bloods seem to be unable to die from old age completely.

This is amplified by the versatility provided by Homestuck's... mechanics, for lack of a better term. In Homestuck, video game logic dictates reality. So, Feferi has a video game style inventory system, with her trusty trident in her weapon slot, or strife specibus. Basically, anything she picks up will be stored in hammerspace on her person, without her having to physically carry it, just like in a video game. And, just like in a video game, Feferi can get stronger and stonger by leveling up with every fight.

But, despite this warrior heritage, Feferi is still a princess. She's royalty, separated from most of her subjects and a bit naive to their actual needs. On Beforus, in the timeline where she actually becomes Empress, Feferi winds up robbing the poor and disabled of all their anatomy and free will in an attempt to provide for all their needs, making Beforus nearly as much of a dystopia as Alternia was. Sadly, her attempts to help everyone would prove to be the death of her in this timeline, as it would culminate in her murder at the hands of her vengeful, genocidal ex Eridan.

Despite that, Feferi's dream would live on. In death, Feferi would convince her mother Gl'bgolyb and the rest of her eldritch kind to create an afterlife for all of her friends. In the dreambubbles, the souls of all who died while playing the game would live on in. In a way, Feferi really did achieve her dream of helping everyone from beyond her grave.

Throwdown Breakdown:

This is a fairly simple one, I'd say.

Interestingly enough, Charlie is the fighter with a means of actually killing her opponent here that Feferi lacks. Even if you don't think Charlie can destroy souls with her bare hands like her father is implied to be able to (Lucifer would be completely incapable of beating Adam to death without that ability given how holy weapons and angels are stated to work), Feferi doesn't have any special immortalities like a demon from hell does. She just can't die of old age. Hitting her hard enough to kill her is just really hard.

That said, this isn't a Death Battle and Feferi still has ways to win. Immortal she may be, but Charlie can still get knocked unconscious or choked out with enough damage and Feferi should be fully capable of this. The skill gap between them is ginormous.

Charlie being able to box evenly with Adam is impressive... to a point. In-universe, it was only discovered that holy weapons could hurt angels the previous day. When Adam goes down to slaugher Hell, he's massacring people who cannot fight back. This is even explicitly brought up as a plot point in the show. It's discovered that Vaggie is a fallen angel when the person she's fighting notes she leaves herself too open in combat, because angels couldn't be killed by anything other than their own weapons. And when a demon finally does kill an angel, it's such a big deal that Adam vows to wipe them out to the last. Adam's basically a more sexist Homelander.

Feferi meanwhile, fought against an entire kingdom that had been at war with an equal for its entire existence and did pretty damn well. By that metric, she should be outperforming Charlie very substantially here.

While Charlie does have more powers than Feferi, her arsenal is limited outside of musical numbers and most of what she brings beyond that is nothing Feferi hasn't already seen and dealt with. Even taking soul destruction as a given, Charlie would need to land a killing blow first, and that's not something Feferi's gonna allow before pinning her between her trident's prongs.

Probably the best case scenario, frankly. Neither girl is gonna have to kill a friend over a misunderstanding. Everyone wins on that front.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Feferi Piexes!

[poeticexhalations]

The Boy From the Pacific Northwest (Part I) (A romance)

There are three men in this world who truly did a number on me. Their words sliced me into pieces. Their actions made me question romance forever. They buried me for a long time. One was a monster, another, a byproduct of his environment. The last one is recent. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever talk about him. So we’ll start with the ladder, because although he isn’t on my radar anymore, I don't think I ever truly dove into the complexities that were our whirlwind romance. I don’t think I ever talked about him, in words or on paper. He was there, and then he was not. He left a hole in my heart that was eventually filled with other magical things. 

We’ll call him A.

I met A online. Yes, I know; dangerous. Reckless. Stupid. But that is what community does, specifically roleplaying communities where we all expose our rib cages and bones to strangers online anonymously. We tear away the flesh to reveal our deepest wants, our most fervent ideas, and our authentic selves without the restrictions of names or identities. That’s the beauty of these communities; we grow to love each other for the soul on the inside, knowing very little about each other in the real world. And A and I grew very close in a very short amount of time.

Unfortunately, A was a rebound, and he knew it. I think he took full advantage of my emotional vulnerability from another man, but I was twenty-two years old. I was aching. I needed release, and I didn’t find that release in sex. I found it in other forms of intimacy.

Writing.

And A, he was a beautiful author. He crafted stories exquisitely. Through one circumstance or another, he and I became the leaders (AKA: “The Dungeon Masters”) of a large online community of over eighty people. We were burdened, together, with the responsibility of crafting deep, complex stories about war, loss, love, friendship, loyalty, pirates, and all of that in-between. The role was thrusted on me. He volunteered to help, and was eager to share that burden.

Our late-night idea sessions went from text to phone calls. Then to FaceTimes. We learned about each other, and although I had never met him before in-person, he became my closest confidant. I’d call him when I argued with a coworker. He’d call me when his professors at the university assigned him a tedious paper. We learned more and more about each other until our phone calls became less about the stories we were writing, and more about who we were as people.

Authentic.

Survival.

Infestation, really.

Because we never, ever left each other alone. 

So who was this A? And why did he, younger than I, change me so deeply?

He came from the rain-soaked city of Seattle. He was as reckless as the waves of the Pacific ocean. He had ambitious, deep-blue eyes that danced like flickering flames at every challenge and every opportunity. Youth flowed through his veins; I was only three years older than him, already a junior in college, but he never truly grew up. At nineteen, he embraced childlike wonder (and brashness) like an expensive cologne. And unfortunately, A never knew the meaning of “wrong”; entitlement was bred into his blood. He was a byproduct of privilege and money, and what money could buy someone. 

A knew I was poor. He knew I grew up on food stamps, knew most of my clothes were hand-me-downs from antique stores and thrift shops, knew that I had to fund many of the bills for the home while my mother was sick. He claims it didn’t bother him. However, it bothered me.

Because A was an example of everything I wanted and never had; a nuclear family, two loving parents who still loved each other, a healthy relationship with his siblings, parents who paid for his tuition, didn’t have to work for his bills, and was allotted freedom to explore his identity. Meanwhile, I was attending full-time classes, working late hours, paying for the electricity, water, and gas for my home, taking my mother in and out of rehab, and trying, scraping by to find time to write poetry. I usually only had the time on the bus, the bumpy road evidence in my scribbled lines. 

It wasn’t A’s fault that my life was in shambles. He was merely a reminder of how defeated I truly was. Because his family’s money cushioned him from any real hardships. His parents created a barrier between him and the suffering of the common people. To him, love and consequence were a fleeting concept. 

But, he was handsome.

And I was lonely.

So I embraced the riddle that was our romance whole-heartedly.

A knew I wanted to experience Seattle, so he and his family invited me up there again.

And again.

And again.

Seattle. California. Spas. Theme parks. Museums. University tours. Poetry slams. Beach visits. Fancy hotels. Nice cars.

All expenses paid for vacations to the Pacific Northwest. All I had to do was smile pretty at dinners, drink the expensive wine his mother poured me, and climb between the sheets with him at night. It was something I desperately desired because for the first time in my life, I was getting a taste of many of the things I felt I had missed out on. My mother was suffering at home, but for once, I was 1500 miles away; I could avoid her wrath as she spat obscenities at me in the middle of the night in a drunken fit. I could pull on a raincoat and let A take me to the city. I could experience the true Pacific Northwest dream. 

Or so I thought.

[justcallmecappy]

My thoughts on the DA2 Andersmance

I think what players tend to overlook when it comes to the Andersmance in DA2 is that Anders cannot have a 'normal' relationship, not really -- he cannot love Hawke as 'freely' as Merrill, Isabela, Sebastian, and Fenris (post-Danarius' death) can.

Anders is a mage. From birth, his magic marked him. No matter how many times he tried to escape and assert his freedom, the Chantry would always hunt him down, separate him from his loved ones, and bring him to the Circle in chains. Since he was young, the Circle has been drumming into his head that mages are not allowed to have relationships, not allowed to keep their families, not allowed to get married or fall in love.

Malcolm and Leandra Hawke made it work, but they had to live a half-life constantly on the run, hidden and never staying anywhere long, and after Bethany (and potentially Mage!Hawke) was born, they had to keep their children's gifts a secret, constantly wary of templars, and laying low. That's not a great environment for children to grow up in, always in fear of being caught and taken away.

And even though Anders stood defiant against the Circle, and dared to fall in love with Karl, the Chantry took Karl away from him as well.

To Anders, falling in love is an act of rebellion. Pursuing a relationship is a careful and deliberate choice, one, as a mage, he has to stake everything to make.

Which is why Anders' relationship with Hawke is such a rare and precious thing to him -- it is something he literally has to fight tooth and nail for, something he cannot ever take for granted, something the Chantry told repeatedly him that he could never have. He also knows the sheer risk of having a relationship with Hawke -- what if the Chantry did to Hawke like they did Karl? What if, just by being involved with Anders, he led Hawke into danger?

So I cannot measure Anders' relationship with Hawke with the same yardstick as I measure the other romances in the game -- for Anders, the stakes are higher and totally different. For Fenris and Isabela, killing just one man (Danarius and Castillon) meant they could be free, but how many Knight-Commanders, Grand Clerics and templars need to die for Anders to truly be free? Hawke can settle down and have a normal life with the others, and being in love with them does not put Hawke in danger (broadly speaking, since this is the Kirkwall Squad we're talking about lol), but with Anders, the shadow of the Circles and Chantry would always loom over them, for as long as they live. Anders does not have the luxury of having the same choices under the same circumstances as everyone else.

When Anders tells you, "Ten years, a hundred years from now, someone like me will love someone like you, and there will be no templars to tear them apart," he really meant it. I wonder if players truly understand the gravity, the significance of those words. How much it mattered to him that he and Hawke could love openly and freely, without fear, without having to run and hide all the time. How much it mattered to him that other mages could love openly and freely and without fear as well.

I think people tend to not factor this in when they look at the Andersmance is because the severity of the Chantry's corruption and abuse of power is not apparent to most players, and it's not obvious to the casual player that being a mage is such a dire, life or death situation (even if you play as a mage in all the DA games, you can romance the LIs with zero restrictions since you have Player Privilege) -- people cannot see the agonizing, heartbreaking choices Anders and every other mage has to make when they dare to fall in love.

Side note, I'm not putting down the other romances. I just want to draw attention to the fact that the Chantry makes life hard for mages (something not so obvious in gameplay) and a romantic relationship with a mage, Anders included, is an uphill battle from the start.

[mxvladdy]

Ooh~ I got somewhat of an angst(/comfort -hopefully??) ficlette request!

Established relationship with Diavolo. He thinks everything is going great. Until one night MC tells him that he makes them feel inadequate.

He's so BIG (they are literally/physically so much smaller than him, man is IMPOSING) and it's not like they have demon stamina/strength. they're afraid he gets bored, or will, in time.

He is SO IMPORTANT to everyone and everything and always so busy and they're just a distraction when he could be resting between meetings or courting with the intent to make an heir and they're just a human, a pretty average one at that, can't even use their magic like Maddi or Solomon

*clutches my gay little heart* I'm weak for giant puppy boys 😢. I love this idea! Hope I did it justice! P.s-hope ya ain’t lactose intolerant like I am, cuz I got cheesy at the end lmaooooo

Edit: 6/15- Here is the link to part 2!

  You feel inferior or inadequate? No, not his little Giglio.

He doesn't see at first. He is observant, sure. It comes with the territory as a prince, but he is so blind when it comes to you.

You're perfect and he wishes your relationship to be just as perfect. He can't explain why. Somewhere deep in the vacuous pits of his hearts, he yearns for your happiness.

He courts you like any demon would. Showing off his strength and magic to a maddening degree. He will lay fresh kills at your feet for you too.

It makes demons and other creatures swoon, but not a great turn-on for humans it seems. Barbatos had to pull him aside several times to remind him that too much magic could kill you, and he was tired of getting blood stains out of the wood floors.

He just wants to prove he is enough to you too. He'll do more human courting rituals as time goes on. Taking you topside to eat at human restaurants or do quaint human traditions.

Even in your realm, he can’t get away from gawking and curious humans wanting to be in his presents. He has the magnetic pull only a devil could pull off.

He doesn't notice your reluctance to be seen with him or sullen attitude till it was almost too late.

Balls are a common occurrence for him. Keeps the royal families in check, strengthens ties, or, some unfortunate times cutting them down in a show of force and warning for the rest of them.

Diavolo doesn't hate these events. They come as easy as breathing to him after centuries of doing it. But the flocking, gawking, and borderline reverent guest did get stifling. Having you on his arm made it bearable. The courtiers at least gave him some distance. Where were you anyway?

The barest flicker of black and gold muslin catches the crown prince's eye. The expensive fabric flitting around the corner of the ballroom to the restricted section. He wasn't worried. Diavolo knew that outfit and the delectable scent of his most prized jewel that wore it. You were allowed anyway you wished. Though he wished you were on his arm right about now. Ah well-

He turns back to his compatriot nodding along politely at the dull topic and takes a sip from his flute. He hums delighted by the fruity dry drink. Honestly, he wasn't sure how many of these he had had anymore. But it was just as sweet and tangy as his first glass. The bubbles ticking his nose and the liquor make his head fuzzy and his stomach hot. Mmm... He would have to complement Barbatos after this was over. His experiments were simply divine. Diavolo excuses himself from his conversation partner politely. He needed another drink if he was going to have a chat as dry as that again and survive. Fresh drink in hand he scans the massive hall for you. You should have been back by now… Odd. Perhaps you had called it a night early? He can't blame you. The redundancy and boring pushes for political power did get old fast. Smiling into his bubbling glass he has half a mind to join you. Sleeping the night away with you in his arms? Hells, he just might trade the crown for a day for a bloody break.

"May I have this dance, your highness?" A petite little incubus bowed low, wrapping his tail around his leg respectfully. Diavolo blinked up from his glass. Ah, yes. The game wasn't done yet.

It takes another three hours of dancing and glad-handing before he could finally extract himself from the ballroom. His feet were sore and swollen in their tight leather confines, his formal attire becoming itchy with sweat. He was ready for bed. No, a hot bath, tea then bed. No. A hot bath with you, tea then bed. Yes, a perfect ending to make up for a sub-par party.

Your shared quarters were dark when he entered. The smoky smell of recently snuffled candles greets him as he slips in. He frowns. The outer chambers looked to be untouched. The hearth cold and empty of ash. Your evening outfit wasn't spewn over the lounge and floor like it normally would be after a ball.

You often retired early from these parties, but you always waited for him here. Nestled up in the furs in front of the fire. A warm welcoming smile ready to greet him as he enters. "My love?" Diavolo calls out to the empty room. He winces at how loud he was. Perhaps he had indulged in his cups a bit too much.

He cocks his head listening for the sounds of running water or your cute little snores. Perhaps you had already gone to sleep? Silence greets him. He begins to panic now. Were you some elsewhere in the palace? Had some oppositional little cretin tried to harm you? He knew some at his party tonight were vying for him to go back to the old ways. Eliminating you would be a prerogative to those fools.

No, Barbatos had his eyes everywhere tonight. The complex webbing of his magic was nigh impossible to circumvent. Diavolo could feel it crawling over his skin, though the feeling was fading now that he was in his private chambers. Lucifer and his brother were ever vigilant too at these parties. As much as they bickered and annoyed his other guest they were skilled watchdogs, and keeping you safe was a top priority to all of them.

He reaches out through the shadows of his chambers searching for you frantically. His magic bleeds into every corner of his large private rooms. The vice around his chest lessens when he senses you on the private balcony. He goes to you, shrugging off his collars and chains as he moves, leaving a forgotten trail of priceless treasure behind him. "Darling," he breathes a sigh of relief seeing your silhouette in the light of his realms many moons. "Was the party not to your liking?" Diavolo flops onto your shared bed with a groan of pleasure. His feet now happy to not have his weight on them anymore. He runs his fingers through the vast expanse of cold silk. It wakes him up slightly. "Perhaps I can make it up to you? I can think of quite a few things more pleasurable than a swarm of stuffy demons."

"You’re drunk Dia." You don't move to face him. Your eyes still upcast to look at the clear evening sky.

His head lolls to the side to watch you curiously. You can feel his eyes follow the trail of your hands while you stroke at the marble railing. His family crest glistening on your finger. "No, no, not drunk. Tipsy perhaps? Or is the word ‘buzzed’ more appropriate?" He chuckles. "Perhaps you could sober me up with a kiss? You always know how to make me feel amazing."

Your breath catches at his words. A pathetic little sob escaping you. He is sober now. Instead of a warm kiss alighting his muddled thoughts to bring the world back into sharp beautiful clarity, it feels as if he had been submerged in ice. He approaches you with inhuman speed. His clawed fingers were gentle on your shoulders.

He turns you to face him. Crystalline tears were trapped in your lashes. Your cheeks were ruddy and your lips were swollen.  In any other circumstance, such a visage would be a privilege to see. But these tears were cold and filled with pain. Lips red hot not by his kisses and fangs, but from nervous chewing and pulling. Your cheeks were streaked and puffy from countless hours spent alone and crying.

"Giglio mio, cosa ti affligge?" He cups your cheeks rubbing the chill away from your skin.

"Why- why do you even waste your time with me?" You hiccup.

“I don’t understand.”

You part from him, backing up to the railing. “What do you see in me?”  You ask, arm raised in question. He takes in your body. You were adorned in his colors and his scent, it makes the territorial part of him rumble in satisfaction. Your delicate human flesh radiates a warmth demons could never replicate. You were small, sweet, and his. What was he missing? “What will happen when you find someone better? Someone who will- who can grow old alongside you. A demon or witch, strong and talented.”

Your wavering words don’t register with him. How could you say these things? Did you think he would allow you to grow old without him? You were his, just as he was yours, or as much as he is able of being yours. It was a laughable thought but he knew to hold his tongue. Humans always get in a tizzy about death.“I don’t-” He starts ready to brush your concerns away. The flash of his perfect teeth only angers you.

“Do not play dumb with me!” You say jabbing a finger at his bare chest. “Look at you. Think of who you are compared to me. Look at how they all cling to you, all those pretty demons and witches with something to offer you.”

Something better than me.

The words hang unspoken between you and leave him stunned. He had so much he wished to say but knew tonight was an inopportune time. Your emotions were running high, too high for him to successfully navigate. Especially in his compromised state. He would have to admit defeat tonight. “I am sorry if I have neglected you and your feelings. Please, let's go to bed. I want- I need to understand. But-”

“You’re drunk.” You repeat chuckling without humor. You wipe at your face. “I get it. We’ll talk in the morning?”

Diavolo puts a hand to his chest. “Of course. You will have all my time tomorrow.”

You wake alone the next morning, the sheets beside you cool but not made. You expected that though. He was never one to stay in bed even on the rare days off. It was the downside of his status and routine.

You rise alone and head to the bathroom, the gargantuan space was still slightly warm and steamy. Good, that means you didn’t wake up too much later than Dia. You shower quickly, washing away the grime of lasts night’s nervous breakdown. You were so embarrassed, collapsing all over Diavolo in jealous self-pity. He had more important things to deal with than some weepy human.

You need to go find him and apologies, tell him not to worry about it. You knew what being courted by him would entail. You swore up and down you could handle it, and you could. You will. This was the worst time to falter too he had some pressing deadlines and important figureheads coming around this week. Even one loose gear in his well-oiled machine could damage any number of things. You refused to be the reason he failed. Steeling yourself, you dress quickly, determined to put your new plan in motion. Apologize, promise to do better, and then hide at R.A.D until you could face him again.

It doesn’t take you long to find your demon. He had been waiting for you. You enter the den in a flurry of movement phones in hand to check with Lucifer to see where the prince might be. “Join me?” His deep baritone makes you jump in alarm. Your phone flies out of your hands to clatter loudly on the tile floor.

Diavolo sits, sprawled out on his couch. His favorite terry cloth robe is tied loosely around his broad figure. He watches you with a growing frown, his strong jaw perched on his fist. You freeze. “Please?” He offers you his free hand. You take it timidly. He grasps you firmly and lifts you effortlessly onto his lap. You rest your head on his strong chest. He smells of juniper berries and oranges. Bright, fresh, and sharp. Their combined scents mixing with his natural musk put you at ease. The clenching panic around your heart easing slightly. You eye the breakfast layout before the two of you on the low coffee table. The banquet was still untouched though you do not know how long Dia had been sitting here. You felt the tiny pulses of magic radiating off the table.

“To keep it warm,” Diavolo answers your unspoken question. He moves you in his lap so he can reach for a plate. Filling it to the brim with an assortment of pastries and warmed jams he hands it to you before filling his coffee cup. “I didn’t know how long you wished to sleep.”  

You take the plate meekly. “I-thank you.” You eat in relative silence, eyes locked down on the treccia slowly disappearing on your plate. You were too nervous to look at Diavolo. “When do you have to get back to work?” You ask.

“I don’t-” He adds a hefty dollop of heavily whipped cream to his coffee. “I took the day off.” Your heart drops.

“I’m sorry.”

“Giglio.” Diavolo sighs heavily. He puts his coffee aside to cradle you. “Never be sorry for needing time.” His large hands rest over your thigh and shoulder. “I promised we would talk today, and I am nothing but a devil of my word.” He kisses your crown, his thumbs rubbing your skin comfortingly. “Tell me your worries.”

“What do you see in me?” You blurt out looking up at him. “What could you ever see in a human that you couldn’t get from someone closer to your stature?”

“You have something no other being has ever had before.” He answers effortlessly. He had thought about this time and time again in private. He had lost count of the nights spent in his study stewing over this very topic. You captivated him in a way he still couldn’t fully comprehend.

You scoff at the nonanswer. “What? A soul?”

Diavolo sucks his teeth in distaste. Your voice was so bitter. “Do you think I don’t have a soul?” He counters, smiling ruefully down at you.

“Do you?” You are genuinely curious. Satan had been very upfront with the fact that he didn’t and he was a full-blooded demon. When you had asked Barbatos he had just shrugged. 

Diavolo looks wistful for a moment. Golden eyes glazing over as he gets lost in thought. “Who knows?” He admits. “Souls are a precious commodity, true. But such things mean very little to me when it comes to you. No, the thing you have is my trust. You came here with nothing and expected nothing of me but a safe and successful exchange program. There was no social climbing or cloak and daggers with you- or perhaps you are so skilled I cannot see it!” His chuckle shakes you both. “I feel as though you do not see me as just a prince, yet you still respect the title, the authority, and the customs that come along with it. You see what I have to offer and don’t ask for more than I can give you.”

“What will happen when you find that I no longer do that for you? When someone else could do it better and give you eternity along with it?” His words bring you hope, but hope did little when you knew the inevitable outcome.

“Why would I look when I am more than happy where I am?” He dodges your question. He would cross that bridge and bear that cross when you find out on your own.

“But-”

He hushes you with a flurry of kisses across your face, dipping low over you. You squeak as he dangles you precariously over the side of the leather couch. “Come, eat with me.” He says between kisses. “Enjoy a day away from the prying eyes of scorned socialites. Let me show you how devoted I am.” He releases you to pick up a piece of bruschetta. Popping it into his mouth with a groan of satisfaction he turns back to the cooling food, his jovial mood returning. You huff, flicking off a stray bit of diced tomato from his chin.

“Fine- as long as you let me help you catch up on all the work you're missing tomorrow.”  

[greenjudy]

Inquisitor Ask Meme

Reposting this for fun.

Anyone else want to take a crack? What kind of Inky would you be?

@allsortsoflicorice? @tyramir ? Bueller?

1. Race:

Human.

2. Class/Specialization:

Rift mage.

3. Your homeland?

The Free Marches. Wycome, to be precise. 

4. Your family?

Keep my family out of this; they have things to do besides die.

5. Who were you before?

A Circle Mage of some skill and much fear. Given my personality, the Circle would probably not cater to my strengths. It would make me more nervous and paranoid than I already am. The Inquisition would force me out of my comfort zone and give me some resilience I would never otherwise develop. Left to my own devices, I’d fall prey to obsession, and possibly possession by a Pride demon.  

6. Would you be religious?

I’ve read a lot of books by Brother Genitivi and Philliam! A Bard; I’m actually using my clout as Inquisitor to gather whatever is known about the Black City. You might say I’m an originist, I want to know where we came from; Andraste is kind of late on the scene for my interests. 

Post-Trespasser, this quest will more or less eat my brain.

Short answer: obsessed with “religious” subject matter, not religious per se. 

7. Do you have a mabari?

Nope. But I spoil Cullen’s baby. 

8. Your opinion on other races?

Raised to “not be racist” (as far as that goes) in cosmopolitan, edgy, free-wheeling Wycome; family with a ton of Dwarven trading connections. Angry about the elves. Knew loads of elven enchanters in the Circle, but I have awkward awareness of human privilege around the Dalish. 

Fascinated by the Shaperate. Wish all Thedas had those. Can you imagine? 

Worried about the Qun, but deeply impressed with the handful of Qunari I’ve met in person. Not mindless drones at all. Disciplined. Community first has some virtues, must say. 

9. What would Varric’s nickname for you be?

Baffler.

10. What would your tarot card look like?

The High Priestess: an older, abbess-looking chick standing at a scriptorium, surrounded by magical paraphrenalia and a gorgeous view out my high window. Raven (with message) standing on the windowsill.

11. Where would you hang out in Skyhold?

My bespoke mage tower, if I’m not in the Undercroft picking Dagna’s brain. Do a little weeding in the herb garden from time to time; we’re growing some fascinating things in there. 

After Solas leaves, I’d go spend time in the destroyed holding cells, watching the water fall.  

12. What would you do for fun?

Study. Knit. Paint. Visit my horses; the smell of horses is very comforting. 

I’d have highly technical arguments with Dorian and spend a lot, a lot, a lot of time talking to Solas.

13. What armor would you wear?

Cutting-edge tactical enchanted fabric. Light, layered, tweedy, enchanted.

I’d probably get sucked into magical materials research, specifically, making improvements to armor base-layers. I’m obsessed with armor. I have a whole research group (headed by Dagna, Cullen consulting) devoted to armor improvement.

14. What would your room look like?

Given the state of my current room, a chaotic mess of books, papers, research tools, letters from colleagues, blueprints, schematics, dirty dishes, orchids, and automata (Josie and I would be doll-geeks together).

15. Who would be your friends at Skyhold?

I try to make sure that the Inner Circle understands how much I appreciate them as a general rule. 

As for friends: 

Cassandra is one of the great ones. Just about the best person I know. Never met anyone so ready to acknowledge her mistakes. I’d trust her to be the next Divine. 

Dorian is a dear. One of the best sounding-boards. Somebody peel that man a grape. 

Cullen and Josephine are terrific advisors, couldn’t ask for better, their own problems of course, we’re all doing our best. I’d like to know Cullen better—suspect we have things, Circle things, to talk about. In another life, maybe. 

I’d get on with Varric—everyone gets on with Varric, come on—but I find him ultimately very armored, hard to know. Hid his best friend, didn’t he? Never talks about the lady he loves. 

Sera is actually easy to understand. Raw genius with a bow, one of the best to have along, out in the field. Not exactly my friend. So down on the Dalish. It’s her business, though. She and Dagna are adorable together. She makes Dagna happy, that’s good enough for me. 

I have a bit of a GP for the Iron Bull. (He had me at “front-line bodyguard.”) Never acted on it, though.

Solas is my… see… well, see below. 

16. Would you have any friends outside of the Inquisition?

I’d have the Thedas version of LinkedIn comrades in Antiva, Nevarra, and Orlais—researchers all. Plus one brilliant friend who’s a materials mage based out of Denerim, working with Sandal on woven metal enchantments; call her my “knitting buddy.”

17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?

Leliana would trouble me. Don’t like having someone this emotional and vindictive managing our intel networks. It’s bad juju, Ambassador; can’t trust her judgment, can you? And that feels like a loose end. Put us in a tight spot someday. Couldn’t we ask Varric…? No, I quite see that. Still. 

I’d understand Vivienne, and try to maintain a cordial relationship because I think most of her head is in the right place, even though she is entirely too power-oriented for a real friendship. 

Blackwall’s “find Darkspawn, kill them, repeat” approach would bother me. When I found out the truth about him, it would confirm my feeling that you need to lie to yourself, a lot, to just have enemies and kill them without compunction. I would also find myself highly influenced by Solas’s take on the Wardens. 

18. Who would you romance?

I’m a Circle mage who’s watched close friends be tormented by romantic love. Demonic possession and Tranquility. Babies taken away. This is not the kind of conditioning that disappears just because you take me out of a Circle. In my youth I worked it out by restricting myself to impossible love objects—there was this one Templar, very stern, very disciplined…he’d barely speak to me… Well. That was many years ago. 

That said, the best impossible love object I’ve ever encountered in my life is Solas. 

What does it matter, really? Bonds of friendship, don’t you know; romantic love leads to envy demons. I’m old now, at any rate. Inquisigeezer not exactly a romanceable character. 

19. Would you do pranks with Sera?

Probably not. Too busy. Too tired. Feel too much sympathy for her innocent victims. 

But I would do operations with Sera, with pleasure. 

20. Would you sleep with the Iron Bull (casually if not romance)?

My front-line bodyguard? Get on with you. It would get too complicated—for me, I mean, not him. 

21. Would you keep Cole around?

Yes. And I’d agonize about what would be the best path for him to take, and probably make him a spirit.

22. Can you play the game (politics)?

Yes. I’m better at it the more distant it is. If you’re talking about what to say at a party, I’ve developed a persona for that sort of thing. Stakes are high. Can’t be fooling around. A mage, remember? This guard drops, I get possessed; lose my temper, might incinerate you, can’t have that. 

23. What would be on your tombstone in the fade (What are you afraid of)?

“The world fell apart on my watch.”

24. Who would you recruit to seal the breach?

Mages. I understand mages. Their leadership’s been simply awful. Not sure what Fiona did with her spine. Without decent leadership, it’s mages running amok, trying to protect themselves, doing awful things out of fear; can’t have that, they’ll pull their own house down. Get them out of the weeds, stick ‘em in the Inquisition, give them a chance to show what they can do for the right cause. 

25. Opinion on Mages versus Templars?

It’s all about training, though, isn’t it? Templars and mages both need much, much better training. Without training, without a penetrating education with a solid grasp of magical theory, history, ethics—co-train the mages and templars, make ‘em take core courses together. Make them work together in strike teams; I’ve been doing that since we recruited ‘em, they actually partner well, as long as you’re not, you know, mad.

I would become obsessed (do you see the recurrence of this word) with the idea that mages could be Seeker-trained to resist possession and mind control, obviating the need for Tranquility. These disciplined (another key word) and trustworthy mages could be placed in a position of joint authority with properly educated Templars to create a College of Magi with research cells all over Thedas…

Yeah. We’ll see how that works out.

26. Who would be put in charge of Orlais and why?

Celine and Briala. Celine is the one with the right temperament, and for some reason I viscerally understand Briala. I’m all about reparations and integrating elven populations and something something protect the Dalish (can’t we actually give them the Dirth?).

27. Would you sacrifice the Chargers?

I couldn’t.

28. Would you go after Blackwall?

Oh, yes. And I’d keep him on, as Thom Rainier. 

29. Would you drink from the well?

Knowing me? Not knowing the implications except for those vague warnings? Yes, I would, and it would affect me for the rest of my life. 

I’d spend what’s left of myself using whatever insight and connections the Well gave me to work on Solas. 

30. Where would you go if the Inquisition was disbanded?

Under ordinary circumstances, the College. Daresay they’d want me to do something draining and administrative because of my being the (ex)Inquisitor; I’d look for a research niche but probably not get to keep it. 

Solas is not ordinary circumstances. I’d dedicate the rest of my life to that problem. 

31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god? 

I’d naively and arrogantly imagine that I could—if we could just get enough time to sit down together—he must understand what he’s likely to bring about, he needs people to talk to, dammit—

He would be the death of me, I’m afraid.

[sepublic]

Now that I think of it, Belos has many things in common with Grace from Infinity Train. Both are cult leaders, Grace never had the love of her parents and maybe Belos never had the love of his peers. Grace controls the kids of the Apex just like Belos runs the Empire and his Coven. Both have a right hand man (Simon and the Coven member with the owl mask) and that makes me think that like Grace, part of why Belos controls others is because he's afraid of being alone again, to dissapoint others and to go back to being powerless people aka outcasts.

           Well! I already liked Grace BEFORE, as a very messed-up yet meaningfully complex and twisted character who ultimately turns around and overcomes her mountain-sized flaws in one of the most compelling redemptions I’ve ever seen!

           But this… Oh, this makes me love her even MORE, and I feel almost beholden to you for this beautiful comparison! Again, I’m mostly comparing Grace with my read/speculation on Belos and who I THINK his character will turn out to be… But to look over the wonderfully messed-up similarities;

           There’s this shared idea of Grace and Belos being social outcasts as children and wanting companionship, wanting to be surrounded by friends… So they arrive in a ‘magical world’ and they get to work compiling countless allies around them, be it Grace’s Apex, or Belos’ Coven System of followers! But at the same time… There’s this desire to be at the top, to be better than everyone else!

          With Grace this additionally came from her parents’ harsh expectations, but otherwise her and Belos have that issue of… Trying to cope with their previous status and ostracization as outsiders, and rationalize their mistreatment in a way that makes sense to them; In a way that’s flattering to themselves while maliciously downplaying those they see as having ‘wronged’ them! Grace decided to see the other girls as jealous of her for being better than them, and perhaps so did Belos… To Belos, he was actually a Chosen One this whole time, he was ALWAYS superior to those who didn’t recognize him! So of course he had to be separate from the rest as someone above them!

          So Grace and Belos not only feel entitled to some sort of universal compensation for their suffering, but their desire to be at the top also comes from a position of fear; Because neither are good with feelings, neither are used to letting others in, both are conditioned for rejection and hurt! Being above others in the form of a power imbalance, it allows Grace and Belos both to maintain control and distance from those they get attached to…

          Keeping their ‘followers’ at a proper distance thanks to the different positions in the hierarchy, to keep themselves from getting hurt! It’s a way of getting adulation without going through the uncomfortable pain of actually having to open up to others, because the work for unconditional love is too much and too scary for either of them! Not that they could differentiate between reverence from a distance and close, personal love of course… Not to mention, having power and control makes them feel safe and ‘in charge’ of their relationships, like Grace and Belos are always operating from a safe position where they can retaliate and defend if necessary!

          By having control, you can keep others from hurting you, and get a handle on them, forcing others to listen to you for once, to open up so YOU can be safe while they can’t expect the same of you because you’re already better… Belos and Grace want others to become dependent upon them, so they can feel good and needed and loved, while at the same time reassured that they’re necessary to those they know and thus can’t be disposed of, even if hated! Grace and Belos see themselves as giving consolation to the desperate and dependent, when in reality THEY’re the epitome of those personality traits! Clinging onto others and hurting them in the process… Like Grace with Hazel, or Belos with –possibly- the Titan itself!

           But while they want to be above their friends, Belos and Grace still see the people they surround themselves with as THEIR people, as others they personally understand and relate to, and want to take care of as a result! But they don’t want their beloved subordinates to be at the bottom, and if they want to uplift their subordinates with them (because the idea of hierarchy justifies and makes Grace and Belos feel special), there needs to be others BELOW those they call ‘friends’!

           So for Grace, she seeks a scape-goat in Denizens, and the fact that she herself was treated more like a toy and an object by her own parents doesn’t help! She puts the Apex above the denizens, enabling her own friends to be uplifted above others, while still beneath her! And Belos, well… He artificially manufactures hierarchy through his Coven System, restricting the magic of others and deciding that the natural ability to access all forms of magic will now become a privilege that one must EARN if they intend to keep it into adulthood; And his ‘friends’ are his Emperor’s Coven, people he sees as hardworking and ingenuitive like him! Separate from the others because they’re better than that and focus their time onto more important things anyway!

           Grace and Belos are both entitled deconstructions of the Isekai trope, dark reflections of your typical Isekai protagonist in that they project their fantasies and delusions onto the new world they enter, expecting it to cater towards their personal desires and needs… Instead of recognizing this new place as its own separate world with its own history and people who are living their own lives and are not beholden to these new arrivals! Instead of seeing the reality of these new worlds for what they are, they bring up what they’d like to see, and then treat it as objective fact!

           There’s also –canonically for Grace and in speculation for Belos- a lieutenant that they’re closer to than all others… Someone who welcomed them from the very beginning, the first to give them open arms and provide companionship! But in some ways this person was also their first ‘victim’, the first to be deluded and adopted into this cult of personality of theirs… Grace brought in Simon, while Belos potentially had Kikimora! Obviously the parallels between THOSE relationships aren’t exactly the same, and my speculation on Kiki has her as starting out as the one in charge actually…

           But there’s still the concept of someone they’re close to, but they also unfairly keep at a distance while expecting them to open up for them! And both relationships have both participants toxicly enabling one another to varying degrees (though I feel Kiki is more likely to ‘turn good’ than Simon, who never did while Grace at least changed), encouraging the other to bring out the worst and unironically supporting it!

           Grace and Belos have that desire to be the center of attention by any and all means, because for so long they were overlooked, ignored, and outright forgotten! Neither like to confront negative emotions, because why let it bother them, feeling sad about it isn’t going to change things! They’re both crippled by an apprehensive fear of rejection… And they operate on a Messiah complex (to varying degrees), with Grace completely misinterpreting her one sighting of ‘The Conductor’, and then preaching a bunch of lies mixed in with her own projections to others! A part of her is doing what she’s convinced herself is truthful, but another part is also being a little flattering to what she wants her worldview to be…

          And Belos… Well, I can’t say for sure, but he possibly operated on truthfully being the Titan’s messenger, before he became more invested in what HE had to say, and likewise, I think Belos is at least somewhat aware that what he’s saying isn’t really what the Titan says, but it doesn’t matter because more like Simon than Grace, he’s decided that HE knows better after all! I do believe that like Grace, he’s somewhat willingly lying to create a narrative that sets himself and his own worldview as real and objective, all for his own sake and those he sees as ‘companions’!

           In the end, both Grace and Belos operate from a place of willful ignorance, although in Grace’s scenario, her mistakes were at least a lot more understandable in that she WAS a child and had no way of going back to verify what really happened… And then when fully confronted with the truth of Amelia, actually began to change! Not to mention a lot of her entitlement and the idea that she did no wrong likely came from her elitist parents! Whereas Belos, I think by this point Belos is fully aware, or at least mostly, that what he’s saying is nothing but propaganda, that he’s twisting what the Titan actually had to say and is doing so deliberately… Because he’s rejecting the Titan’s message as not fitting what HE wants to hear, again more like Simon than Grace!

           I’ve already loved Grace, but now she’s extra-fascinating to me, because she’s like my read on Belos, except she’s actually the main protagonist in this narrative and was actually able to grow beyond her flaws and fix them! I can’t say for sure if Belos will or won’t have that opportunity though… I mean it IS worth nothing that while Grace did kill a LOT of people, I don’t think it’s nearly to the extent that Belos did, and as I’ve speculated before; I think Belos is WAY worse a person than Grace Monroe ever was! It’s like if early into his flaws and mistakes, a younger and healthier Belos was given the chance to change… That’s what Grace is like for me, in a sense, and that just makes her A-MAZING!

           Obviously there is the danger of me projecting some delusions and fantasies onto a different reality, as I am describing of Grace and Belos… But even if it isn’t true for BELOS, I think it could be true for Grace! And so she’s that twisted narrative I mentioned earlier, but actually fully confirmed, and so I love this beautiful, messed-up lady and I want to see her get well, her mind is fascinating and she’s SUCH a good protagonist! Good for Grace, good for her that she managed to overcome her flaws in the end and turned out happier for it!

           A lot of the times Grace only has herself to blame for her issues in life (and the Infinity Train, Amelia, and Simon too admittedly), but in the end she’s learned to confront herself and start making a change! She learned to see the truth, to set boundaries between what IS her fault and what isn’t, and similarly, not wallow in self-pity but instead make and effort to start turning things around! I’m so proud of her for it, she’s inspiring to me as a symbol of someone who can do SO MUCH wrong, but still make the effort to turn around!

[kieraslifestory]

An interesting monologue about some experiences I’ve had with gender.

So when I was young, like, early teen? I went through a... I don’t even know what to call it. I did not want to be perceived as a girl from a distance. I was fine if you thought I was a girl while you were talking directly to me, but I didn’t like it if you could look across the way and go ‘oh, look, a girl.’ And along with this came a small wish to be a boy sometimes.

Now I’ll emphasize sometimes, cause it certainly wasn’t all the time, and it wasn’t regular. And it wasn’t that I wanted masculinity at all. What I wanted was the freedom and anonymity that came with being a boy.

Part of this was probably reading a bunch of adventure books meant for boys, and in all of them, the boy was ‘just another boy’ and ignored, whereas the girls were always like ‘oh, there’s a girl! Who’s watching her? Oh, I could kidnap a girl, cause she’s a girl.’

And I wanted to be able to slip onto a ship and just be folded into the group. Or to walk through a field and be passed off as ‘probably nobody, a worker maybe’ or to walk along a street and be left alone.

Being a girl, especially a more feminine girl, seemed incredibly dangerous and limiting to me. And honestly, it still is. The world kinda sucks for girls.

But anyway, I looked into all manner of ‘sneaky’ things and ‘gray man’ ideas, and I wore old ratty hoodies constantly, tucking my hair up in the hoods.

In dreams, for years, if there’s a group I want to join, I almost always just kinda morph into a boy version of myself to join them safely. (There was also this magical field dream that would be too much of a rabbit trail, cause it actually was complicated, but I turned into a boy then too)

Anyway. I learned over time that yes. Femininity was dangerous to have, cause people really would make fun of you and put you down and there’s genuinely a possibility of getting kidnapped or hurt. But, that I really wanted it. Whereas I had only wanted the privileges of masculinity, and not really any of the actual masculinity.

I learned that if I leaned into things I enjoyed, I would in fact be made fun of for them, but if I kept going, eventually it got to be worth it. So I like sparkly things, and I like dresses, and I love to be nurturing and kind and feminine, even though it does open me to attack. I like to be soft, even though when I’m soft people can stab me that much easier. I read stories of old, wise women who were beautiful and kind and I want to be like them as I age.

And I’ve found ways to be more anonymous and unnoticed even while being feminine. It’s not quite the same as in the old books, but neither is society.

Anyway, I was talking to my mom a while back about how much happiness I was finding now that I was finally allowing myself to buy and wear the pretty things I’d always enjoyed looking at, and she said, “Yeah, I was worried about you, having such gender dysphoria for so long.”

And I had a double take at that. Dysphoria? Is that what all that was? I thought I was just keeping myself safe.

I’m still not quite sure if it counts, since my goals weren’t really to change gender, and if I had, I think I would’ve been disappointed and unhappy, and further restricted myself from the things that made me happy. Cause really, I cracked down hard on anything that made me unsafe, and didn’t let myself really express who I wanted to be. I just thought being vaguely boyish was the way to do that.

But anyway. Probably related to that, I always was fine with they/them, especially for people that don’t know me. But I was surprised the other day, when someone used they for me, and that someone was someone a little closer to me. And I reacted against it. “I’m not they, you know me, don’t you? I’m she.”

(I didn’t say this to that person, cause I didn’t want to be rude or anything, and maybe they don’t actually know me that well, but eh)

But I was just surprised by the amount I didn’t like it, since I always thought I was fine with it.

I still think I am in vague or distant scenarios. If someone doesn’t know me, or is talking vaguely about me to other people that don’t know me, or anything distant really, I don’t mind they/them at all.

But I’ve found that if we’re talking up close, I really like being perceived as a woman. I want to be gentle, and kind, nurturing and wise, a soft place to come to when things are hard. I want to wrap my friends up in hugs and protect them from anything that would try to hurt them. I really like being feminine.

[theviscountbridgerton]

Interview with Jonathan Bailey in Style Magazine (October 2020) where he talks a little bit about Bridgerton. The interview was conducted in English, transcribed into Italian, and then translated back into English by Google Translate so, you know, there are some things that get lost in translation. 

Love affairs, marriages of interest and intrigues. It is the portrayal of the new Netflix series Bridgerton, a bit of a Jane Austen romance, a bit of sexy in the wake of The Favourite, with the right dose of Downton Abbey-style family drama, but “so modern that it could almost be set in the present day” enthusiastically states Jonathan Bailey, at his great opportunity to really make it internationally, playing the fascinating bachelor Anthony Bridgerton, the quintessential English nobleman of the early nineteenth century, who at the age of 28 finds himself at the head of a clan of seven brothers and sisters. One who “has to play the part of a loving brother and son and instead loves women and forbidden pleasures” ...

The Regency period has been less represented than other moments in British history, but the film industry abounds with period dramas. Do they still make sense today? Our instincts are the same, in 2020 as in 1820, and to observe them in a restrictive and oppressive context such as 19th century England where the will of the individual was stifled, sexuality was suppressed and there was a strong division between the social classes, puts them even more in evidence. Each of us at some point in his life felt forced into a role due to the expectations of others, just like Bridgerton's characters.

Women more than men, but ... Only in appearance: of course all the decisions are up to men, and Anthony for example to decide who should marry Daphne, but they are also forced to repress their feelings, which makes them unable to live a happy life. Patriarchal society has wreaked havoc on both sexes.

Bridgerton also has the virtue of surrounding Queen Charlotte with a court that is not exclusively white: the terrifying Lady Danbury and played by Adjoa Andoh, Regé-Jean Page plays the role of Duke Simon Basset and Martins Imhangbe as his best friend. Is it worth abdicating historical accuracy to be politically correct? We decided to do the opposite of whitewashing that so many historical moments have suffered. Here the question is to be faithful to the events told in the books by Julia Quinn from which the series is based, not to be historically accurate, so we can also imagine that at the time of Queen Charlotte it could have been an inclusive court. custom and the freedom given to the actors to model the characters, to make them current.

The fourth season of The Crown will also arrive on Netflix in the coming months: have you wondered why the public is still so fascinated by the nobility? We all love what we cannot have, which is closed to us. Even without getting to the royal family. Think for example of the world of the Bennet sisters and Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice: they were far below the social hierarchy, yet they have been represented countless times in period films. Personally, what intrigues me most about the golden world of the aristocracy is not the parties and privileges, but what lies beneath the surface: I wonder what the human cost of that life is. Bridgerton's characters always pretend to be something other than who they are: the real drama and their distance from the truth in a society of appearance, and this is what intrigues us about them.

Is the society of appearance then different from ours? If at the time classism was based on the distance between people, with the aristocrats who did everything to limit what the people could know about them, today social media allow us to <approach> characters that otherwise we would only idealize and this does so that high society no longer exists.  We never knew so much about the royal family, but I don't think it's good.

Speaking of royalty, you started in the theater with the King John of the Royal Shakespeare Company: is the stage still your first love? A love that has only grown since I first saw a musical Oliver! as a child. I love the experience of being in the theater, first of all as a spectator, it's magic. But as an actor I have to admit that it's much more tiring than cinema.

And instead to dub the protagonists of the video games from Anthem and Final Fantasy XIV, how did he end up? That was one of the funniest things I could do. They have a really huge fanbase and I consider them an incredible art form as well as a thriving industry. He played them a lot when I was a kid and I rediscovered them during the lockdown.

What role do you dream of playing? I think it's better for me not to know, I prefer to be stimulated by reading a script. The important thing is to work with people who have a very defined idea of ​​your character: it makes him stronger, you can already imagine him on the page even before taking on his shoes. But I can say that I'd like to play someone who looks a lot like me, who tells my reality, I'd like to find out how I would feel. It sounds like a paradox, but I think Hamlet could never play Hamlet.

And could Hamlet ever be a woman? Thanks to the role of Jamie in Company, who was originally an Amy, you won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical. Amy was transformed into a man, yes, but homosexual, and it is no coincidence: I believe that women and gays, even if in different ways and at different levels, are both oppressed minorities. In Company the goal was to make the reflection on marriage more modern by putting a man in crisis, because, given that gay marriages are now legal in many countries of the world, it almost seems that one has to marry by force. In general, however, I don't think we should cut the female parts on men, both because they are related to purely female experiences, but above all because of complex male roles I would say that there are already enough. Women are finally being given roles with an emotional complexity never seen before: it is interesting to see them act as protagonists in a society that has long been dominated by men, sometimes very weak, others brilliant.

Who is Jonathan Bailey when he's not on set? A boy who loves being in nature. I just finished a week of cycling in the English countryside where I covered about 700km. I think if I wasn't an actor I would retire Cornish hut.

I had read in an old interview with him that as a boy he dreamed of becoming a pilot. I think I was trying to reassure my parents that I would settle down and find a stable job (laughs). But in reality maybe I could have become a teacher, not because I necessarily think I have who knows what to pass on, but I believe in young people, it will be that I recently spent some time with my six year old niece. Instead it is not that I really had the opportunity to choose, fate did it for me.

Does it owe more to fate or to his willpower? I don't come from a family of actors or artists, when at the age of seven I was offered the part of Tiny Tim in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol which was to be performed at the Barbican in London I simply jumped at an opportunity. Many kids who love theater go to drama school, but having grown up in a small town in Oxfordshire, I wouldn't have had much choice but to join the basketball team. So I will always be grateful for that chance, but it has never been an easy path. I believe in hard work, which always rewards.

[joannalannister]

Anonymous asked:

Hey! It’s me again, your GOT secret Santa. Could you please elaborate on what aspects of the Tywin/Joanna ship you like? They’re not a ship I’ve ever written for, so I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why you like them so much. Anyways, I hope things are going great with you and that you’re getting ready for the holidays 😊

I love Tywin and Joanna because this ship is ASOIAF in its simplest form, stripped down to the bare bones, the meaning made plain. 

In my opinion, ASOIAF is different from a lot of other fantasy I’ve read because it doesn’t focus on a magic system, and it doesn’t focus on a great war (we still barely even know anything about the Others). 

ASOIAF is different; ASOIAF is about what makes us human. (Even GRRM’s term for the enemy, Other, comes back to this central theme of our humanity, because it suggests that humanity is fighting against something other than human beings, something un-human, something inhumane.) 

Tywin is one of the most un-human human beings in the entire series. He’s also the villain that we get the most information about, and he still looms large over the text even in death. (Even in the brief glimpses of TWOW that he’s shared, GRRM keeps bringing him up.) GRRM has shown us all of these monstrous things about Tywin, but in doing so, he’s made the tiny glowing embers of Tywin’s humanity burn like the beacons of Minas Tirith. 

It’s our joy and our love and our laughter that make us human. It’s our sorrow and our pain. But more than all that, our humanity is the connections we make to other people. It’s shared joy, shared love, shared laughter. Shared sorrow. Our compassion. To build a society is to connect people, to share with others. Tywin and Joanna is a society of two. 

(That weirwood net of shared consciousness fascinates me - it’s an idea GRRM has written about before in his other works, and he keeps coming back to it.)  

So those handful of smiles: for his wife, for the birth of his (first two) children, for his greatest accomplishments (gruesome as they are). 

And the pain in this passage: “when Aerys II announced Ser Jaime's appointment from the Iron Throne, his lordship went to one knee and thanked the king for the great honor shown to his house. Then, pleading illness, Lord Tywin asked the king's leave to retire as Hand.” 

And the utter and absolute pain in this one: “With her death, Grand Maester Pycelle observes, the joy went out of Tywin Lannister, yet still he persisted in his duty.” 

It’s like a shot glass filled with sorrow. In AGOT through ADWD, the sorrow in those books is slow; it’s (mostly) meant to be sipped, and savored. But the way we experience Tywin’s pain, as GRRM writes it, it’s quick and it burns, and it burns out just as quickly as we move on to Tywin’s next atrocity. 

So, for me at least, Tywin and Joanna are like a distilled version of ASOIAF. It’s the moments we share that make us human, and when Joanna died, Tywin’s humanity died with her. 

That might not be the most helpful thing for writing a fanfic, so let me give you some other reasons:

My favorite short story is “The Last Rung on the Ladder”. I think I first read it ~20 years ago, and it still haunts me. It hurts. It’s about a brother and sister. It’s about taking things for granted, about the people we depend on, and about what happens when those people are no longer there. 

“You're my big brother. I knew you'd take care of me.” “Oh, Kitty, you don't know how close it was.” [...] “No,” she said. “But I knew you were [...] there.”

Maybe this applies to Jaime and Cersei too, and Tywin/Joanna are just a different iteration, but it’s what keeps me coming back: what happens when the people you depend on ... the people you think are always going to be there ... what happens when those people -- those lifelines -- are gone? 

Despite Tywin being (imo) a very social person, I think Tywin had very few real friends. In addition to being his wife, Joanna was Tywin’s friend, someone he could talk to, and confide in, and trust. Someone who made it all real. Someone who made it worth it. 

And I think Tywin thought Joanna would always be there, the same way that everyone in AGOT-ASOS thought Tywin would always be there, “eternal as Casterly Rock”. I think Tywin always imagined that Joanna would outlive him, like it never occurred to him that she would die first, but instead she died when he was in his early 30s. That’s life-shattering to have the rug pulled out from under you like that.  

Similarly, I think Joanna had this idea that she and Tywin would be together, but instead he was “often away”. We’re told that they were children together at Casterly Rock, but then at ~10 Tywin was sent away to be Aegon V’s cupbearer, and later he went away to war on the Stepstones, and then after her wedding Joanna had to be sent away because of Aerys, and we have Tywin sent to Lys at some point. What did it mean to her, that Tywin wasn’t there? For Joanna, I don’t necessarily think that Tywin not being there was entirely a bad thing, at least eventually, although I imagine it was painful at first. I think these forced separations from Tywin allowed her to grow, allowed her to eventually rule the Westerlands in Tywin’s name while he was away. 

The thing that I always think of when I think about Tywin and Joanna is this poem, “Mrs. Beast” by Carol Ann Duffy, and I always think of this line, “Bring me the Beast for the night. Bring me the wine-cellar key. Let the less-loving one be me.” The more loving one is Tywin in my mind, no doubt about it. (I played with this poem for Tywin/Joanna here.) 

There’s this scene I imagine in my own fanfiction, about a year before Joanna’s death, where there’s these silent tears, this despair on Joanna’s face, and Jaime asks his mother why she’s crying, and she says, “Because your lord father is home.” 

I think Joanna always loved Tywin, to the very end, but Tywin is a difficult person to live with. I think his homecomings eventually became bittersweet. On the one hand, the love of her life has come home to her across hundreds of miles through snow, through bandits etc, but on the other hand, whenever Tywin comes home, Joanna has to take a back seat. Tywin sucks all of the oxygen out of the room. Everyone has to take a back seat to Tywin: “It has been hard for Kevan, living all his life in Tywin's shadow. It was hard for all my brothers. That shadow Tywin cast was long and black, and each of them had to struggle to find a little sun.“

This is all kind of leading into another reason I like Tywin/Joanna in that it’s an exploration of gender roles, and the ... the limits that women are under in Westeros, even under the very best circumstances. With Joanna, she’s white, she’s filthy rich, she’s a top-tier noblewoman, she’s beautiful. Contrasted against Rhaella, Joanna has a husband who loves her so much that we get lines about Joanna ruling Tywin and how this man who never ever smiles smiled for her. But there are still limits. We’re told that Tywin was ruled at home by his lady wife. Joanna’s influence is restricted, it’s dependent on what power Tywin gives her. While Rhaella physically was confined to Maegor’s Holdfast, Joanna’s influence is confined to the domestic sphere. 

Westeros is a broken place, one that’s always been broken into little pieces (Seven Kingdoms, not one). Westeros breaks people. Like Mrs. Beast in the poem, I think Joanna was able to forget, for a time, about the world’s abused women. She was able to forget that Westeros breaks people, and that it especially breaks women. I think Joanna thought she was the exception, that she would have more, achieve more, do more ... and eventually I think she hits a wall, realizing that Tywin is her limiting factor, even as he lifts her up and grants her the power to do. 

It’s these limits that fascinate me about House Lannister as a whole. Like, the Lannisters are introduced to us as infinite. (Thinkin about this a lot lately.) Bottomless wealth, eternal life, unfathomable beauty, all I do is win win win. But over the course of the books GRRM knocks all of this down and shows us that there is a finite quality to House Lannister. Tywin dies. With Jaime, I think GRRM is exploring the limits of redemption imo. Cersei is going to hit a wall. It’s that the culture of House Lannister, their fundamental values -- they don’t work. 

Tywin is the poster boy of Westeros - he is the feudal system, he’s the face of its misogyny, he’s the walking embodiment of classism and income inequality and privilege and everything horrible about Westeros. 

I don’t think it was ever possible for Joanna to be dealt a winning hand with Tywin, The system is rigged against women, and a woman would have to break the system entirely to win. But Tywin is the system, so it just doesn’t work. 

I think of Joanna as a tragedy. 

um.

idunno if any of that is helpful, but i sure wrote a lot. Also, I really like power couples and courtly intrigue and stuff like the Borgias. Hopefully that helps a little bit, I’m so sorry. 

If you want to read other stuff I wrote, I collect my Tywin x Joanna writings under this tag:

#tjmeta

And these tags might also be useful: #joanna meta and #tywin meta

I’m so sorry, please know that I will absolutely love whatever you write! There are so few fics of Tywin/Joanna that I am excited for anything. 

(Also I hate Aerys and he can go fuck himself. I think that Tywin tried to see Joanna as a person, as much as a man in such a deeply misogynistic society can see a woman as a person. I think Aerys saw Joanna as a battlefield. Also I really hate the theory that Tyrion is Aerys’s. Really hate that.)

Ok, im sorry, ILU SANTA! I HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING BEING DONE WITH YOUR FINALS AND HAVING A BREAK!!! 

[obsidianarchives]

Body Shaming in 'Harry Potter'

Re-reading the beginning of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, I’m surprised by how much I sympathize with the Dursleys. I don’t particularly like them in the general sense, but considering the scene where the Weasleys come to pick up Harry from their perspective, and Dudley’s perspective in particular, it becomes incredibly difficult to imagine a world in which they weren’t deeply skeptical and suspicious of magic. Magic, for the Dursleys, is scary and destructive, and for Dudley, in particular, has enacted much violence upon his body.

It is no secret that I have been a long-time fan of the Harry Potter series, as something that I have held near and dear to my heart for a long time, and at certain points in my life it has filled the religious and spiritual void that I felt within myself. And yet, as much as I often treat the series as a sacred text, there are a great many failings, and nowhere do I feel that is more clear than in the vicious attacks that are made against those who do not fit into the conventional molds of body image. The narration of the text uses the description of the body as a weapon, and a proxy for how we are meant to feel about a given character.

This is not uncommon in storytelling, and not unique to Harry Potter. The common narrative that society tells us is that pretty people are good and ugly people are bad, and society also tends to have pretty strict and nasty ways of describing who fits into either of those categories. The Harry Potter series is one in which there are very few characters where their race is explicitly stated, which is good because it means that there is room for interpretation. But one thing that is often explicitly stated in the text is when a character is being described negatively, they are given a value judgment based on their appearance and how they achieved that appearance. And nowhere is that more clear than with Dudley Dursley.

From the moment that we are introduced to Dudley, we are given the impression that he is a misbehaving child — the first word his says is either “shan’t” or “won’t” depending on your edition and he is described as “kicking and screaming for sweets.” He’s called a “beach ball” and a “pig in a wig.” Again and again the reader is hit over the head with the fact that Dudley — who is bad — is fat, while Harry — who is good — is skinny. Dudley is spoiled and petulant, and yes, he’s a bit of a horrible kid, but also he has really horrible parents. Dumbledore is not wrong in book six when he says that Vernon and Petunia have done a disservice to Dudley in treating him the way that they have. But Dudley is also mistreated by wizards. Hagrid gives Dudley a pig’s tail — was intending to turn him into a pig completely — and knows that he cannot reverse that. He never does reverse it, and by telling Harry not to tell anyone (protecting his own interests since Hagrid is not supposed to use magic) Hagrid dooms Dudley to needing to get the tail surgically removed by Muggle means, which was no doubt expensive, humiliating, and painful.

The ton-tongue toffee incident, which is what prompted me to ruminate on all this again, I found to be just so cruel. Because Dudley is on this incredibly forced and restrictive diet, being taunted by Harry — who is not following it at all — and is basically going cold turkey on all the foods he has normally had. His whole worldview has shifted when his version of normal (although it was anything but) changed. He’s not actually starving, but he probably feels like it, because it is such an abrupt shift in his eating habits. And here are the first sweets he has seen in probably months, and they cause this horribly, physically, and psychologically painful incident.

Then, only a year later Dudley has the experience with the dementor, a monster that almost sucked out his soul. This is often remarked upon as the turning point, where Dudley starts to evaluate his actions and change his ways. And yet this change is due to a real violence by magic, and as a whole magic has not been kind to Dudley. Nonetheless, at the start of the seventh book he was able to make an effort to reach out to Harry. The problem is that it’s framed as though Dudley only gets to make this transformation into a better person once he has matured enough to start getting into a “better” physical shape. Once he takes up boxing, and becomes athletic, his bulk is attributed to muscle rather than fat. Only then is he allowed to be something akin to a better person.

All over the Harry Potter canon we see unpleasant people described as being ugly. Pansy pug-faced Parkinson. Umbridge the toad. These are the people we are clearly supposed to dislike, and these traits are not assigned to antagonists as a way to set them apart. But the way it works with fatness is a bit different, because for all that Vernon and Dudley are called out for their weight, the characters we are supposed to like, even if they share a somewhat similar physical shape, don’t get this treatment. Neville, for example, is simply called a “round-faced boy.” But the actors who play Neville and Dudley looked so similar to each other when I watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone for the first time at age five that I got confused and thought Dudley had somehow ended up at Hogwarts. And Mrs. Weasley is described as being “plump.” Ludo Bagman, who is a character we are meant to both dislike and sympathize with, is described in middling terms.

“He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.” — Chapter Seven ‘Bagman and Crouch.’

These small moments in the way characters are introduced make the characters memorable, but they are also slightly insidious, and not at all kind when the narrator doesn’t want to be.

All told, fitting the conventional mold is not a universally bad thing, but the way this is portrayed is problematic because the way in which certain characters but not others are shamed for their weight/appearance seems to promote the idea that being treated with respect regarding one's body is a privilege that can be revoked in response to bad behavior, rather than the basic human right that it should be. This falls into a pattern of privilege where some privileges, like how Dudley is spoiled by Vernon and Petunia, are things that no one should have, whereas the privilege of being afforded basic respect regardless of one’s body type is a privilege that everyone should have.

There are also many slights against people who are perceived as thinner too. Petunia, for example, is often contrasted against Vernon as being quite thin. In their first introduction, they are compared as having “hardly any neck” and “nearly twice the usual amount of neck” respectively. The critique of Petunia’s size is on the opposite side of the spectrum, but it’s there, and it shows that the body-shaming in the series is across all body types, and in particular, directly correlated with a character’s likeability.

I’m not capable of cancelling in its entirety something so fundamental to my worldview as the Harry Potter series. But the more often I return to the text as an adult, the more flaws I find. In a way, that is almost a good thing, because in finding the parts of Harry Potter that don’t hold up to scrutiny, I am able to hold a mirror to the ways society as a whole does not hold up to scrutiny. At the same time, I can’t say that in good faith, because Harry Potter is a book series targeted at children, who can through the lens of these books (as well as the rest of society’s pressures) internalize the idea that it’s OK to make value judgments about someone based on their body, which is simply not true. We must imagine people complexly. And I guess that means we have to imagine books complexly too.

Header image via Wizarding World

[bamon4bamily]

TVD 9x06 (part 1) Enjoy! =)

Cut to – freaky old mansion, Darius’s room. A portal closes; we see Bonnie laying on Darius’s bed, in a deep sleep, Danae still holding her hand.

 DARIUS: Hello, sister.

DANAE: (Looking terrified) Darius…

DARIUS: Don’t look so frightened, Lish, I’m the one looking at a ghost. God, it’s crazy seeing you in the flesh… (he tries to touch her, she quickly steps aside in a panic).

DARIUS: Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you. You made me a promise (looks at Bonnie) and you kept it.

DANAE: I did, now let me go.

DARIUS: I’m sorry, sis, but I can’t do that.

DANAE: We had a deal…

DARIUS: And I will keep my word. I said I wouldn’t hurt you, and I won’t, pinky swear. But I’m sure you can understand why I can’t let you go; can’t have any loose ends…

DANAE: You bastard!

DARIUS: (Sarcastic laugh) I think we both know who the bastard is; mother was always such a flirt.

DANAE: Please, just let me go. I followed your instructions; I swear I’ll keep my mouth shut and disappear.

DARIUS: (Changing the subject) You know, it truly baffles me that you would think I wasn’t aware that you have been alive for all these years… Come on, Lish, I thought you were smarter than that… Do you really think all that tragedy came from karma? Granted it must’ve had a hand in it, but… really? You couldn’t figure it out? Guess the genius genes do come from my father’s side…

DANAE: You’ve known all this time?

DARIUS: Of course, I have. The only reason you are still alive is not because of your flawed immortality serum, which I’ve perfected, by the way, but because I’ve allowed you to… What can I say, I’m a sucker for family drama.

DANAE: You are insane…

DARIUS: We all go a little mad sometimes… (with sarcasm) Yet, I wasn’t the one locked up in an Asylum for years.

DANAE: It was you...  You were the one that got me locked up…

DARIUS: Oh no, you did that all on your own; I only suggested the pertinent treatments.

DANAE: (In painful wrath) They put a needle through my eyeball, you crazy fuck!

DARIUS: Trial and error, sis, that’s the only way to verify a theory… just ask your “friend” Marie… Oh wait, you can’t…

DANAE: (Charges him) I’ll kill you!!!!  

DARIUS: (Restrains her with his hands; Bonnie starts to move) Shhhhh… you are waking her up. It’s time for you to take a time out; I’ll take it from here. (Some freaky hooded people come in and take Danae away, Darius sits by the bedside, holds Bonnie’s hand).

DANAE: (As she is being taken away) She is going to destroy you, and I’m going to enjoy every minute of it!

DARIUS: (To the hooded people) Put her in the bunker.

Cut back to – The Mikaelson mansion, 12:05 am. It’s pitch dark. Everyone is passed out on the floor; after a few seconds, they start to react.

 DAMON: (Confused) What the hell happened?

ALARIC: I have no idea, but… (before he can even finish his sentence, Damon vamps upstairs to check on Bonnie; she and Danae have vanished… Damon, desperately, vamps his way through every inch of the mansion looking for her, she’s nowhere to be found).

KLAUS: (Also searching) Damon, we have searched everywhere, they are gone.

DAMON: How? We were all by the door, there is no way…

KLAUS: Cloaking spell, who knows? You seem to forget how magic works, my friend, anything is possible. Now, let’s go get the others. (They regather with the group downstairs, Klaus lights some candles so that everyone can have some visibility).  

ALARIC: What is going on?!

KLAUS: Bonnie and Danae are gone.

ALARIC: What!? How?

KLAUS: Enough with the how; we need to focus on the where and why.

TYLER: Uhm, guys, I think we have another problem (points to Katherine who is in a catatonic state, they try to snap her out of it, but she is unresponsive, completely lost in a daze).

LEXI: Can’t believe this is happening! I thought we had the perfect plan...

ALARIC: They must have figured it out, orchestrated some sort of stealth attack…

RADKA: All I remember was waiting by the door to attack upon arrival, then I saw an overwhelming light and blacked out.

KHUYANA: Me too…

ALARIC: I think we all did.

DAMON: Enough with the chit chat; we need to find Bonnie.

ALARIC: And we will, Damon, but we have to figure out what we are dealing with first.

DAMON: What is there to figure out, Ric? We know what we are dealing with; a lunatic mind-freak asshole, and his cult groupies. So, let’s skip the over rationalization, and get to the action. Plan is simple, find these bastards, kill these bastards, get Bonnie back.

KLAUS: I agree with Damon, for once.

CAROLINE: Me too.

ALARIC: I would like nothing more, but we don’t even know where these cult freaks are!

KHUYANA: I have a feeling someone might… Matt.

KLAUS: Well, love, that’s not very helpful given that your husband was a no show.

TYLER: My bet is that he’s at the Mayor house; Matt told me he was hosting a Halloween ball; and, for some fucked reason, Matt always seems to be wherever he is.

DAMON: So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!

CAROLINE: I’m game, but first we need to stop by the house and make sure everyone is okay. And leave this one (referring to Katherine) to someone’s care.

DAMON: We can’t waste any time, Care. Klaus, Tyler and I will go find Matt, you guys go back to the house. Once we find Donovan, we’ll drag his sneaky ass back and figure out our next move.

CAROLINE: Okay, just please, don’t do anything without us.

KLAUS: We won’t, love, I’ll make sure of it.

DAMON: Whatever; (to Klaus and Tyler) wolf-boys, let’s move.

 Everyone leaves; as they are driving, they stare in disbelief at the scenery; the entire town seems to be having a total blackout; not a single light at sight.

Cut to – freaky old mansion. Darius takes Bonnie into a private section of the mansion. It’s a strange ballroom, set up as a worship haven, reminiscing of Stanley Kubrick’s “Eyes Wide Shut” scene…

DARIUS: My queen… behold your kingdom. (He takes her by the hand and leads her to the center of the altar, inside a Hecate symbol. All the guests, wearing hooded togas and masks, kneel upon her).

DARIUS: At last, the goddess has arrived! (They start chanting in her worship).

BONNIE: (Whispers to Darius) Darling, this is a bit much, don’t you think?

DARIUS: Nothing is too much when it comes to you. Bonnie Sheila Bennett, you are a goddess, you just need to believe it. You can do anything you set your mind to, no restrictions, no consequences. You are the alpha and the omega…

BONNIE: No restrictions... that does sound tempting…

DARIUS: Just let yourself be free, my love, embrace your destiny...

Bonnie, seduced by the feeling of absolute power, lets go of the last hold she has over who she is and embraces her power to the fullest. A huge energy field emerges from her, the biggest one yet...At this precise moment, a new Bonnie is born, a child of fire and desire, a purely instinctual creature with the power to create… and destroy.

Cut to- freaky bunker. Matt, sitting outside the heavily sealed door, which is now open. He is crying.

MATT: (To himself) What have I done… what have I done…

MILITARY MAN: General…

MATT: Don’t call me that! I’m not a General! I am the Sheriff of Mystic Falls, that is all…I don’t belong here...

MILITARY MAN: I’ll give you some space, Sir. (Walks away, approaches another military man) I think the General has lost his mind…

MILITARY MAN 2: Cut him some slack, he’s under a lot of stress. How would you react if that order had to come from you? That has to break a man...

MILITARY MAN: Do you think we are doing the right thing, here?

MILITARY MAN 2: Not sure if it’s the right thing but it’s the only thing we can do if we want to have a fighting chance.

Cut to – The Salvatore mansion. Stefan, Elena, and Sam are in the living room. The gang walks in. Caroline sees Stefan and runs to hug him.

CAROLINE: Oh, thank god, you are alright! The girls?

STEFAN: They are sleeping, they fine; we are all fine, it’s just a blackout.

CAROLINE: Oh, trust me, it’s much more than that.

ELENA: (To Caroline, looking quite pissed) Uhm, hello?!

CAROLINE: Elena! Oh my god, you are here! I totally forgot to…

ELENA: Oh, I know! Stefan put me up to do date…  what the hell, Care!?

CAROLINE: I’m sorry, we thought you didn’t want to be involved in these things anymore. (To Sam) Hey, Sam…

SAM: Hey… (looking quite uncomfortable, given the situation).

ELENA: Where is Bonnie?

CAROLINE: We don’t know, something went wrong…

STEFAN: What happened?

CAROLINE: As soon as the clock stroke midnight, there was this huge light blast, then everyone passed out. When we woke up, Bonnie and Danae were gone.

STEFAN: Where is Damon?

CAROLINE: He went with Klaus and Tyler to look for Matt; we think he might know where Darius is.

STEFAN: (Looking at a catatonic Katherine) And what happened to her?

RADKA: We don’t know either… she won’t snap out it; she is physically fine, but…

CAROLINE: She’ll be okay, she is just in shock. (To Alaric) Let’s go check on the girls…

ALARIC: They are asleep, Care, we don’t want to wake them.

CAROLINE: We won’t; just as kiss so they know we are fine. (They go upstairs).

ELENA: Lexi, glad to see you made it back…

LEXI: (With a bit of disdain; still resentful for how she hurt Stefan) Well it was all thanks to my girl Bonnie… now that’s what I call I real woman.

STEFAN: So, Lex, can you tell us exactly what happened?

LEXI: I’ll try my best…

Cut to – The Mayor’s mansion. Damon, Klaus, and Tyler arrive.

 DAMON: How come this is the only place that has electricity?

TYLER: Privileges of the elite…

KLAUS: Please, Lockwood, if that were the case, there be electricity at my house as well. (Tyler rolls his eyes; they ring the doorbell).

ANTHONY: Fashionably late, I see. Invitations, please.

DAMON: One vampire and two hybrids, how is that for an invitation?

ANTHONY: I’m afraid I don’t follow your sense of humor, Sir. So, once again, invitations, please.

KLAUS: What he means is that if you don’t invite us in, we will rip your insides out… how is that for a sense of humor?

ANTHONY: Gentlemen, I don’t want any trouble, but I cannot allow you inside without an invitation.

EDWARD: (Edward comes to the door, sensing something is up) Anthony, what is going on?

ANTHONY: Sir, I…

TYLER: Wow, you really went all out with your costume…

DAMON: (To himself) I freakin hate clowns…

EDWARD: What is the trouble here?

KLAUS: We are looking for Matt Donovan, we were told he might be around…

EDWARD: Well, you have been misinformed, the Sheriff is not here. Granted he was invited, but he declined. Feel free to come inside and see for yourselves.

ANTHONY: Sir…

EDWARD: It’ fine, Anthony. Come in; you are also welcome to indulge if you like.

Cut to back to – the old freaky mansion. Darius and Bonnie inside his illusion realm.

BONNIE: That kiss made me thrust, care to offer this lady a drink?

DARIUS: I would be delighted (holds her hand and takes her to the bar).

DARIUS: (To the bartender) Champagne for the lady.

BARTENDER: Coming right up, Sir.

BONNIE: Actually, I’m bourbon kinda a gal. (Mocking) I thought you knew me better...

DARIUS: Sorry, love, I assumed…

BONNIE: Well, you know what they say about assuming (winks, Darius looks confused). Just teasing, dear. (Gives him a peck on the cheek, then looks around). This is quite the party…

DARIUS: It’s all for you, my love.

BONNIE: You spoil me too much.

DARIUS: Anything for you…

BONNIE: You are making blush…

DARIUS: I love to see you blush.

BONNIE: Careful. I might not be able to control myself.

DARIUS: Neither will I…

(They kiss passionately, find themselves a private spot, and...)

Cut back to – the Mayor’s mansion. Damon, Tyler, and Klaus are looking for Matt.

 TYLER: (Looking at the decadence) Damn, and here I thought I had seen it all… These people are freaking insane…

DAMON: Concentrate, Lockwood! (Getting frustrated) Where the hell is Donovan!?

KLAUS: I think the clown was telling the truth...

EDWARD: (Who has snuck up on them) I told you...

DAMON: (Jumps in a fright) Jesus, holly shit hole!  

EDWARD: I take it you don’t like clowns (smirks)? I’m sorry, gentlemen, but he is not here. And, now that I know he wasn’t with you either, I think I just might know where, or rather, who he is with. As much as it hurts that he would betray my trust, I’m almost certain that he is with a man called Darius.  

KLAUS: You know Darius?

EDWARD: Unfortunately, I do. Has been the stone in my shoe for quite some time now.

DAMON: Where can we find him?

EDWARD: At a freaky old mansion… thing is, it’s not easy to find.

TYLER: What do you mean?

EDWARD: Well, it seems to appear and disappear; making it quite difficult to track.

DAMON: I’ve seen that trick before, we just need the location; we’ll figure it out from there. 

EDWARD: You make it sound so simple. You are aware of who you are dealing with, correct? Darius is the master of illusion, capable of making you believe whatever he wants…

DAMON: (Getting pissed off) Can you tell us the location, or not!?

EDWARD: Temper, temper… Listen, Damon, is it? All I can tell you is that the last time I was able to locate the mansion it was at this address (shows them a location on his phone).

TYLER: That’s impossible; that’s where Matt’s old house is.

EDWARD: Well, that´s uncanny...

DAMON: (To Klaus and Tyler) Let’s go...

EDWARD: If you are thinking that the trick is a cloaking spell, I can assure it’s not. Like I said, Darius is an illusionist, the only way to see through his illusions is to find a loophole; and trust me, that is not an easy thing to do; especially if you don’t have the proper abilities. So, unless one of you is a psychic-witch, it’s pretty much useless.

DAMON: How were you able to find him before?

EDWARD: With a little help from my friends (points to a mystery lady, and a strange man).

KLAUS: (Completely taken with her) She is breathtaking... (stares in intrigue) seems so familiar...

EDWARD: Does she, now?

TYLER: What’s with the freaky glove?

EDWARD: Let’s just say, she has quite a peculiar taste.

DAMON: Can she help us find Darius?

EDWARD: She can, but I must warn you, with her, there is always a price to pay.

DAMON: I really don’t care, as long as she can lead us to Bonnie.

EDWARD: Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Come with me. (They approach the mystery lady) My dear, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine... 

LADY: Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, gentleman.

TVD 9x06 (part 2) coming soon! Hope you stop by, read and enjoy! =) 

[dexdavican]

Homestuck Classes, 2019 edition

I’ve been a Homestuck since day one, and I’ve done a lot of thinking about Classes and Aspects while writing my Homestuck fangame. I started off with the assumption that every Class had an operative verb (e.g. “steal”) that could be done to, with, and through the player’s Aspect. Shortly afterward, I came to the conclusion that the Class pairs have opposite/complementary roles and operative verbs. But... nothing I came up with quiiiite matched. I could find things to support my claims but they all felt a little forced.

My process for figuring the more likely system out would take too long to explain for the purposes of this post, so I’ll just say that I eventually realized that each Class pair explores a two-word phrase that has some importance in network integrity.

Or, to put in a tl;dr way, the Classes are all network security gijinka.

Let me explain:

BURGLAR CLASSES [Thief and Rogue] (Operative phrase: “ACCESS CONTROL”)

Access Control is the determination of who can access a network or not, and how they do so. It’s also a phrase that can be read literally: a burglar is someone who accesses, controls, accesses control and/or controls access.

So a Thief (an Active Class) might have an active interpretation of these things. Active access = exploit8ion and acquisition (the word “exploit” shows up repeatedly in reference to Vriska). Active control = domin8ion and micromanagement. Actively-controlled access = gatekeeping and privilege. Actively accessing control = gaining power. Etc.

A Rogue will have a more passive interpretation. Passive access = receiving and sharing. Passive control = sway and influence. Passively-controlled access = sphinx-like riddling. Passively accessing control = benefiting from or accepting someone else’s privilege. Etc.

Note that there are active and passive forms of access control. Google it.

COURTIER CLASSES [Prince and Bard] (Operative phrase: “NOISE REMOVAL”)

In the context of data transmission, noise is what interferes with a transmission. Active noise removal overpowers (a word Dirk uses to describe himself) noise by with powered counter-signals, while passive noise removal cancels (a word Gamzee dramatically uses in the Epilogues), frustrates, and blunts (I mean, come on) noise without need for a power source.

We can also separate the words. In a computing context, “active removal” would mean both deletion and overwriting (a word Dirk specifically uses in the Epilogues). Passive removal would mean more corruption and degradation. Active noise constitutes active interference, while passive noise is confusion and distraction. Gamzee also references noise constantly, and can’t stop himself from honking even when it’s going to end badly for him.

MAGICAL GIRL CLASSES [Witch and Sylph] (Operative phrase: “BACKUP RELAY”)

A relay is a term for an active switch in electronics, which attempts to complete or interrupt a circuit.  A relay might also mean a satellite, which orbits and broadcasts, or even a modem.

Active backup (Witch) can mean a few things: support, creating spares, and preservation. An active relay delivers, and in the context of data transmission, a relay also isolates and broadcasts important signals.

Passive backup (Sylph) is more on the restoration and reintegration side of things. A passive relay carries, or perhaps more accurately, ferries a signal.

SCION CLASSES [Maid and Heir] (Operative phrase: “TRUSTED CLIENT”)

A trusted client is a device or program controlled by the user, but with restrictions placed on its use by the vendor. It’s meant to be more secure, but in practice once an exploit is found, that exploit can be reliably repeated.

An active client (Maid) is one that’s seeking or demanding from the server, and it’s also one that rejects or distrusts unwelcome data or commands they receive. An active trust is an inheritance that the inheritor is expected to manage. In the context of mail, an active client would be outgoing.

A passive client (Heir) is one that waits and responds to the server. They have incoming mail, and they always answer the call. A passive trust doesn’t have expectations placed upon it--it’s simply something you receive and take care of.

VASSAL CLASSES [Knight and Page] (Operative Phrase: “SECURE SERVER”)

A secure server ideally holds data and provides for the client.

An active server (Knight) responds quickly, but and active security verifies the user, requiring a lot of effort to prove (see John’s convo with Jake about Bat Man) anything. One might also interpret this role as the one of defensive responses.

A passive server (Page) defers and delays, and passive security usually believes or ignores the user. Any tests are pretty rudimentary, requiring little effort to bypass.

Note also how many times these Classes just... can’t help responding to someone else’s statement, or following someone else’s orders.

WIZARD CLASSES [Mage and Seer] (Operative Phrase: “FAULT DETECTION”)

Fault detection is how you determine if a hardware or software error has stopped transmission.

Active detection involves monitoring and displaying the error. But in the context of computers and networks, fault detection often involves testing and even breaking the system yourself (see: Sollux and Doom, Disciple and Heart), and “fault” is a verb that can mean blame. In a storytelling context, the Mage shows, rather than telling.

Passive detection involves perception, analysis, interpretation, and waiting for an alarm. A passive fault might indicate failure or a fatal flaw. In the context of a network, many errors are due to missing pieces. In a storytelling context, the Seer tells, rather than showing. Getting less symbolic... it’d be hard for a fault-detector to see the good in things.

MASTER CLASSES [Lord and Muse] (Operative Phrase: “CREATIVE CONSUMER”)

The creative consumer is a person who adds to a creative work even as they take it in. They are an end-user who also contributes to the product. Homestuck is, obviously, partially about what happens as the creative consumers become more important than the original creator. They are the uroboros, the snake that eats its own tail.

The Lord (active) demands and dominates the original work, until they eventually overtake it completely. They deplete the creator’s energy, resist and also discourage (aka “jeer”) others from participation.

The Muse (passive) absorbs and inspires the original work, and when it ends, they keep it alive. They energize the creator, enable and encourage (aka “cheer”) other participants.

...

That’s it.

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Strive Pt. 20

{PART 1} {PART 2} {PART 3} {PART 4} {PART 5} {PART 6} {PART 7} {PART 8} {PART 9} {PART 10} {PART 11} {PART 12} {PART 13} {PART 14} {PART 15} {PART 16} {PART 17} {PART 18} {PART 19}

Pair: Tomarry

Rating: M-E(depends)

Tags: Mild Language, Homosexuality, Sexism, Obsessed Tom, Time-Travel/Dimension-Travel, Teacher/Student, Eventual Romance, Teacher-Harry, Grey!Harry, MoD(sort of), Death!being,

A/N: I forgot to add the Tumblr version of this chapter months back!

The very first day where he was no longer a Hogwarts student, Tom found himself perusing the library's Restricted Section. As he was now free to come and go as he pleased since he was legally an adult as well as a new member of the staff, he decided to get in as much study time as he could while he had the chance. And that meant research.

There was a limit to how many books he could remove from the Restricted Section at once though. And that was one. A single book was allowed to leave through one person at a time no matter who it was, just as a precaution. It was definitely a bit of a setback but Tom was just grateful to even be able to get to the books in the first place without someone interfering, so he wouldn't dare complain to anyone about it or they might think him too immature to handle the responsibility and may ban him. Also it would no doubt have Potter angry and Tom didn't want that.

He had full use of any of the school owls and he got a first hand look at who was caring for them. Hagrid. The boy was being groomed to be the perfect groundskeeper and often times, Tom would see him thumping along behind Dumbledore as they went on walks of the grounds. Tom made sure to avoid those places once he memorised their schedule well enough. While not necessarily feeling hatred toward the boy, he was angry at Dumbledore's insistence upon pampering him and favouring his precious Gryffindors all the damn time.

Dumbledore didn't seem to have a life outside of Hogwarts which was exceedingly annoying. He was always around even when he shouldn't be. Others like Slughorn, had homes to get to and living family to spend time with. And friends to see whenever they wanted. Apparently, the great Dumbledore had none of that save for a brother who lived in Hogsmeade and didn't like him all too much, which Tom found to be amusing, and a couple men here and there who rarely visited the school.

The paragon of Light and goodness wasn't even liked by his own family and could count his number of friends on one hand. Now if only Tom knew the reasons behind such things, then he'd be able to use the information to his advantage.

Being able to stay at Hogwarts also meant that he was free to go to Hogsmeade whenever he so chose, and found himself travelling down now and then either for the scenery, for a stroll around the bookshop, or for a Butterbeer because even Tom had to admit that they were delicious. And without the stress of having to posture for his fellow Slytherins, he felt more calm.

His absolute favourite thing however, was whenever he and Harry - he'd given Tom permission to call him by name since they'd officially be coworkers come September! - sat down for tea. And tea was never just tea. It was talking. Either about Defence, Grindelwald's War, World War 2, or their different opinions on controversial topics.

Harry also felt that the wizarding war was ridiculous. He held absolutely no respect for Gellert Grindelwald and explained exactly why.

The symbol the man used was that of the Deathly Hallows. The items belonging to The Necromancers Three. A myth told that Death had gifted the very objects to the brothers when they'd cleverly evaded a gruesome death at the being's hands. The one to gather all objects was supposed to become immortal and the Master of Death or so the legend proclaimed.

Grindelwald had perverted a simple story from Britain's roots. He used the symbol of the Deathly Hallows to spread fear and hatred across the European Continent. Enough for people to misunderstand what it originally was meant to mean. And while he was slowly trying to take over, he was also searching for something precious to him.

The odd attacks and the strange behaviour he'd been exhibiting for several months now, was finally explained.

According to Harry, the man was searching for the most powerful wand in existence. He truly believed it existed and was murdering people left, right, and center just to get his hands on it. And he wanted the Elder Wand as much as he wanted the Resurrection Stone and the Invisibility Cloak. He wanted immortality and was causing a ridiculous amount of strife just to get it.

Tom's method had been better if he was to be so bold as to claim. The ritual had hurt of course, but it had been quick and easy enough to perform both times he'd done it. No unnecessary bloodshed involved. No more exertion than a flick of the wrist and the drawing of Runes.

But Gellert had blinded himself by his own greed. Yet he also proved how selfish he was. As Tom had noted months before, he wasn't doing this to help the wizarding world. Grindelwald wanted to rule over everyone. He wanted them all to bow down, magicals and muggles alike. And that was why Tom thought his idea was stupid.

He was also incredibly bitter over his hand in Hitler rising to power because the man and his following had put Tom through some hell as a child and he hated them all!

Tom couldn't wait for Harry to just finish Grindelwald off for good. He was waiting for it, but knew he had to be patient if he wanted to win that bet he'd participated in.

But slipping the idea into their conversations was easy enough. Especially since Harry was already angry at the Dark Lord's actions. It would take one truly terrible thing to make him go after Grindelwald personally.

Other things they talked about were magical creatures. Harry was very adamant that they deserved rights, especially those with a level of sentience. He had read the recently published Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newton Scamander, and found himself siding with the magizoologist on many things. He then happily explained some of his experiences with magical creatures.

House Elves, Dragons, Gnomes, Thestrals, Basilisks, Cornish Pixies, Dementors, Boggarts, Acromantulas, Merfolk, Grindylows, Demiguises, Phoenixes, and so much more. He'd come to understand them and felt that just because each could be dangerous, didn't mean they deserved to be killed off and sold for potions ingredients. That just because some were considered Dark, didn't mean they were evil and must be eradicated.

The man was a firmly Grey wizard and Tom had to be honest when he said that he'd met no one as split down the middle as Potter.

The only thing that annoyed him about his stay at Hogwarts, was Dumbledore's presence. Everything else was perfection!

Tom stared down at the stationary in his hand. It was a light shade of blue and the script was golden and glittering. He didn't read too much into that for his own sanity.

It was an invitation to dinner. With the Potters. Charmont and Ella Potter to be precise. And the invitation had been given to him by Harry, who had been lightly flushed as he handed it over while saying, "Ellie wanted me to give you her letter. She said you needed some new correspondence."

Lady Potter wanted Tom to come to a dinner she and her husband were having. A dinner that was, according to her letter, just between them and Harry, and Tom if he decided to come.

And the difference between being invited to a Potter's home, verses being invited to a Malfoy's home, was that the Malfoys had a negative agenda no matter what. Ella Potter actually seemed like a decent person and while she had been a Slytherin in her youth, she'd willingly married a Gryffindor and let him mellow her out.

Also, while she certainly had an agenda as well, it most likely had to do with her attempts to match Tom and Harry together. So such an agenda worked to his benefit and wasn't being done with malicious intent. She wasn't planning on using him later, he was certain. And he couldn't find it in himself to believe that Charmont Potter had a manipulative bone in his body. The man had a reputation for being generous and a bit naive.

So with all of this in mind, Tom decided to put his quill to the parchment and write out his acceptance of their hospitality. This could also be a chance for him to learn more about Professor Potter and it would be foolish to pass it up. This would give Tom the upper hand over everyone else and establish a more secure connection between he and the man he most admired.

And because Tom coveted attention and information and things others didn't know because they would put him above them, nothing would pass from his lips to his followers. They didn't deserve the privilege of knowing Harry Potter like Tom would. Tom liked to keep his most treasured possessions close and any knowledge about Harry Potter was to be kept unlock and key in his own, impenetrable mind.

He was welcomed with wide smiles from the Potters and a shocked look from his… coworker. Harry obviously hadn't known he would show up, and Tom was thrilled to be a surprise.

The man was also attired in the most fanciful robes Tom had ever seen on him. Potter didn't often resort to magical clothing, preferring more freedom of movement in the newer, more modern clothes being introduced through various trade agreements with other nations. He was most likely dressed so well for the Heads of his House.

"It's so lovely to see you, Mr. Riddle," Ella said with a smile. "I've been dying to pick your brain over certain topics. This is my husband, Charmont."

Charmont was a messy-haired brunet with blue/green eyes, a sharp jaw, and a charming smile ironically. He was the same height as Tom at 186 cm, and came across as a kind individual upon first glance.

"Good to know you," the man said with a calm smile. "My Ella has had many a thing to say about your first meeting. I do hope you and our Harry get on well enough, yes?"

Tom plastered a not so fake smile on his face, genuinely pleased to speak about his former professor. "Harry is a diamond in the rough, sir."

Said man sputtered, his face taking on a lovely shade of pink.

"Come! Come! Dinner is being served as we speak and I want to get all the details from Mr. Riddle!" prompted Ella, shooing them toward one of the many open rooms off to the right of the grand, marble foyer of Potter Manor.

Dinner was a lavish affair. Not as pompous as something a Malfoy would host, thank Merlin, but still proper as expected of a Pureblood family. Though there were no veiled insults being thrown around and no one seemed to be trying to outdo another.

Tom had been asked every possible question under the sun, and occasionally Harry would be called into the conversation to give his input on certain topics. Ella seemed endlessly fascinated by whatever Tom responded with, and constantly sent Harry knowing looks that he seemed to pointedly ignore in favour of his wine. And he ended up drinking a lot of wine as a result.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle is such a unique name," said Charmont at some point near dessert. "It makes you sound mysterious and I find it to be fitting."

His smile became a little more forced. "The other children in the orphanage mocked me for it. Marvolo isn't a muggle name and they said it only made me weirder. I have come to dislike my name. Tom is bland, Marvolo is too strange, and Riddle sounds very..." He couldn't even finish his thought. He hated being connected to that piece of filth.

Ella smiled with understanding. "I know all about hating your given name, Tom. My true name is Avariella and I despise it. Sure, it means 'woman of great strength' but it sounds atrocious to my ear. Thankfully, Charmont was very understanding and adopted my nickname easily," the woman said, aiming a dazzling smile at her husband who smiled back with just as much affection.

"I like both of your names," Harry interjected quickly, pouting. "Names that make you think twice. Interesting sounding in my opinion. A sense of strength to them."

Ella beamed and Tom flushed lightly, looking away from the man's imploring, green eyes. Harry Potter had this odd affect on him and it wasn't fair!

"I apologise for my aunt's curiosity this evening. Ella tends to like to talk and she takes issue with not knowing enough of anything," Potter said with a small but mischievous smile that made Tom's heart flutter abnormally in his chest. "She means well."

"She is good company," Tom decided to say. "I like her." He was shocked at how true it was. The woman had been very interesting to speak with and she was very sly as she managed to drag Harry into the conversation by somehow finding a similarity between he and Tom for her to comment on.

Tom had learned that his former professor loved green. That he once Apparated when he was a child. That he could regrow his hair immediately if it was ever cut too short. And sometimes he would change his teacher's appearance whenever they annoyed him. Such as turning someone's hair blue for criticising how he did his homework.

During his childhood, Tom had done similar things, and it had been refreshing to hear that Potter was very much the same. Tom used to hate it when anybody did the exact same thing as him. He had always had the desire to be unique. Finding out about magic had been in both parts amazing and terrible because it meant he wasn't the only one and he wasn't as special as he thought he was.

This kind of attitude followed him well up until this point in his life. He liked being able to do things others couldn't. He liked knowing things others never would, or would have to rely on him into order to learn. And yet when he found out that him and the man he admired most were a lot similar than at first glance, it made him feel... dare he say, tingly inside.

He'd somehow gotten an invitation to return to Potter Manor in the future for their small celebration for Harry's birthday which was coming up on the thirty-first of July. Exactly six months away form Tom's birthday.

He had to think about the gift he should get the man. Potter had given him Slytheirn's Locket for his birthday. He'd found one of the only things remaining from Tom's family's history and had returned it to him instead of keeping the priceless artifact for himself. Not many people would ever do such a thing. How could Tom possibly top that?

Harry liked Quidditch, so a broom would probably work. At the same time he was a Potter and they had money. Anything Tom got him could be easily acquired on his own if he didn't already have it. Tom had to be unique.

A/N: Making up for forgetting to post this on Tumblr before uploading it on AO3 and FFN back in August.

[malefectium]

𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓍 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝓇𝑜 𝓅𝑜𝓈𝓉

EMMA DUMONT —— Well, if it isn’t BELLATRIX BLACK, the SLYTHERIN superstar. For those of you who don’t know HER, you can spot them sitting with the other SEVENTH years. Most people think that they’re HUMOROUS and EMPHATIC, but they can also seem pretty DESTRUCTIVE and VINDICTIVE Sometimes people call them the HELLION. Sure, they’re a PUREBLOOD, but that doesn’t define them. 

character parallels: regina mills (ouat), katherine pierce (tvd), christina yang (grey’s anatomy)

prep yourselves for a lesson in bellatrix black:

 so first, the goal for my girl is to not let her go fULL crazy yet. it’s hard to maintain, especially in a school setting and like??? nonsensical honestly.

 but i’ve let her spiral before so we’ll see haha kajsdhlf but she ain’t so angry this time. im tryin!

 but basically bellatrix is ready to let the world burn for the sake of reaching her goals. she’s ambitious man. she gon be a queen someday. that’s what this is all about. her getting what she wants. what she DESERVES dammit. and she’s a queen. where her kingdom at, you bitches??? WHERE IS IT ???

this grllllllllllllll. damn is she crazy about the female empowerment and crushing your enemies to dust thing.  have a problem?   NBD. because guess what, you have all the abilities in the world to TAKE CARE OF THAT SHIT. idk man, she might be on to something. ain’t nuthin gon stop her and why should it? everyone take notes on how to be a bad bitch.

dumbledore himself admitted she had prodigious skill. not that she’s??? been running around bullying the fuck out of people? she’s just imperious and self-important rn. if anything, everyone isn’t really worth her time

listen.    she bought into absolutely EVERYTHING she was told growing up. ‘you’re a black”,  “you’re part of an exemplary lineage of witches and wizards that came before you and now all that weight is on YOU, bellatrix”    “you must continue this great and amazing line of magic users because it gets stronger with each generation, bellatrix”  “the fact you’re a black is the best and most important part of you, bellatrix” 

 abuse tw:  i mean???? it made her feel special, it brought meaning to a world that can be a little scary sometimes. forget the part where the people telling you these things are literally beating it into you. of course  it made   sense   that her family, these people around her that she cared for so much, were important.  it had to.  why should she think any differently?

 yes, i know the pureblood thing isn’t logical, at it’s essence it’s the search for self-worth at the expense of putting others down based on??????? literally nothing

but sadly that’s where all her self worth lies now. in a legacy  that she can’t even truly continue because she’s a woman. like??? i know she’s not a victim in the future because she makes A LOT of regrettable and horrifying choices???  but idk man. rn she’s just a kid.   it’s sad to me

anyways soap box over

 she is a soldier. so loyal. v dedicated and invested in the things she cares about. she’s not hollow about her emotions. she really really  CARES.  maybe too much. 

 she takes a lot of pride in being a part of something bigger than herself. the black lineage?? hell yeah she’ll take up that mantle. voldemort’s cause?? well that just gets her fucking wet dude. it’s how she’ll contribute, you know? she just doin her part. maybe in a way that she couldn’t even imagine for herself before now. not only will her family be the best and brightest but also??? rule the world??? 

come on man. who’d say no to something like that?

she’s a good student. v. smort. those spells come easy son. maybe she’s starting to dip into some spells she shouldn’t know, you know?? 

she be eyeing that restricted section, fam

 but  she’s also working v hard on keeping her nose clean so dumbledore wILL GET OFF HER BACK. that shithead’s scrutiny of her is over the top at this point. she ain’t done anything

yet

fucKING DO NOT insult her family. i s2g she can’t take it. she’s too protective. narcissa andie reggie even that fucking traitor sirius. she has so much love. I know that sounds crazy but family is her life. it’s BLOOD. they’re her’s, the only things youre simply given when you come into this world and she holds on so tight to them.

her name is her life. it means everything to her. being a black gives her purpose and so much privilege. basically if youre not in her family she feels so bad for you because omg yOUR LIFE MUST SUUUUUUUCCCKKKK. 

but also there’s a lot of pressure coming from that name.  don’t fail because well, honestly you CANT fail. there’s a lot riding on this legacy thing. even with half this family abandoning ship. that’s kind of ..... well that’s kind of adding a lot of pressure. but she can handle it. she has to, you know.   otherwise what else is there?

wow it’s almost like she cares about being a part of something.

 almost like she’s scared of ending up alone because what is she, if not a ‘black’??

 i’m SORRY? depth? fear? humanity? from a villian ?   *gasp*

weird.   wild.   unheard of.

daddy’s fave. omg daddy girl to the max. she admired the fuck out of that man. but her mom can suck a dick for all the fucks she gives. wHICH IS NONE  like pls someone kill the bitch

she’s so loyal. her life hasn’t been consumed by old voldie yet (or maybe ever??? iDK WE’LL SEE) so like. all that energy going to her fam. they haven’t completely failed her yet. sirius was a blow but . . . maybe she still has some hope for him

andie? love of her life. a queen. narcissa?  surely the brightest star in the sky.  reggie? perfect, delicate, and sensitive adult-sized infant, no one touch. sirius? MORON.  . . .  but also her moron, so. he better get his fucking act together

 speaking of shitty choices. hellooo drinking and smoking and general bad behavior type o habits. i’d say fucking but meh dlfkjasdhf everyone gon hate her

 mental illness tw: but yup that’s her escape. she straight up drowns herself in easy things. she’s v gluttonous, and enjoys sweets and wines and good food. it’s distracting when things get too much. when the walls are closing in on her and she remembers that there’s only really ONE option for the rest of her life. it’s kind of scary actually. gives her kind of a headache. plus forget about sleeping man. she’ll toss and turn at the slightest sound. or just lie awake thinking. dissociating. and damn has it been getting a lot worse lately. good thing she always has candy. or a flask.  

 at least it’s better then  leaving  (sorry she salty af about sirius man, she just didn’t see it coming)

possible connections: idk it’s bellatrix dude. everyone gon be scared of her al;dksjfl; but she aint so bad you pussies

[endlesstalesofwonder]

Malec Week: Harry Potter AU

So I’m not attuned to the entire Harry Potter universe, so instead I used it as a two-word prompt and let the words fall where they may. Enjoy!

*

Alec never saw the harm in reading. Reading was a means of gaining information, new or old, in different styles of writing and diagrams. The Institute’s library was full of “boring” books – Magnus always made a point of calling them that – which were neither stimulating or worth reading the spine.

The best books were part of the restricted sections, which, under prior management, had been locked up tightly. Now, as Alec was the Head of said Institute, he had those same keys to read, see, and do whatever he wanted to those books. He learned his lesson, however, when the first book he picked up tried to eat him, and the second nearly set the entire building on fire while in a tornado.

That had been hard to explain to some of his co-workers. Underhill had understood. And then he followed in Alec’s footsteps and nearly made the place turn to rubble.

Alec found safety in exposing his children to books that would neither spontaneously combust nor threaten the lives of others simply by looking in its direction. Lost in the mundane world of literature, Alec had gotten lost among the black hole that was ordering books and other things online and ended up buying the entire collection of Harry Potter.

Magnus scoffed when Alec had first showed him. There’s absolutely no truth in their magic, he had told him. Wands are ridiculous, and thus Magnus launched into speaking about how there was only one kind of wand he liked handling, and Alec straddled him on the kitchen floor.

Every night, Alec read to both of their boys. Rafael had refused to listen to such nonsense and removed himself from the room whenever Max demanded another chapter. It took half of the first book for Rafael to stay in the room and question the logistics of the fictional world.

How could someone live in a closet? Who needs that many presents? Who would want a rat – wasn’t Uncle Simon one? Does that count? I want an owl, papa.

Alec never saw the harm in reading such adventures aloud.

His sons, he had learned, were adept readers like himself. They paid attention to every detail. They started quoting the book aloud throughout the day, even sending relevant fire messages whenever they pleased. Those privileges were revoked when one was sent into their bedroom when entangled around one another. It had progressed into buying costumes and feigning accents.

He realized half way into the series.

Alec got off of work early that day. He was the boss, and therefore had the most flexible hours than anyone else, and Magnus was working on a treaty negotiation in India with their warlock ambassador. Alec entered their apartment, as he usually did, and tossed his keys into the bowl beside the door.

He made his way into the kitchen to find the room devoid of his children – or the kitchen chairs. It wasn’t uncommon for them to suddenly go missing. They had also started making forts out of their blankets to read ahead in the books. In search of the children, and consequently, chairs, Alec made his way up into their bedroom

Which was also empty. Their beds were made, complete with blankets and extra throws, and their things were still in their rooms. It took that split second for full-bloom panic to set in his chest.

This could not happen when Magnus was gone. Alec was a good – no, excellent – father, and he’d be damned if he let anything happen the second his husband was gone. He turned on his heel quickly, turned the handle of the door, and – there was faint, muffled giggles.

Alec froze. He spun back around – and to his horror – made sure to look left, then right, before turning his direction upwards.

“Hi, papa,” Rafael sheepishly greeted.

Alec could feel all the blood rush from his head to his feet. There was nothing – no book, manual, or parent-teaching group – that could have prepared him for that moment. His children were sitting on the ceiling, upside-down, as though the gravity had shifted to allow them to sit there. They were dressed in their Harry Potter costumes.

“What – How?”

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Max’s hand shot out from the folds of his robe, his hand clutching a twig they had picked up from the park one afternoon, claiming it was his ‘chosen wand, papa’. The lamp that was perched beside Max’s bed shook slightly before levitating up towards the ceiling, flipping around, and settling beside the blue boy.

“By the Angel,” Alec muttered.

“Are you going to tell daddy?” Rafael was always more perceptive with Alec.

Alec ran a hand through his dark locks. It was one of his few tells, as Magnus reminded him, that revealed his stress, but way of thinking through situations. “No,” he decided. “I can do this.”

“Lumos!” Max cried again. The entire apartment went completely dark, but the stick – wand – was lit perfectly at its tip with a ball of bright white light.

Alec wasn’t so sure he could do this alone after all. He dug in his pocket for his phone. He flicked it open, found Magnus number – “Expelliarmus!”

Alec phone shot straight into the wall. The device poked out from the dented hole in the wall. Max giggled, of course, in delight. Rafael gasped.

“Max!” his older son exclaimed.

“What?”

“I want to get down,” he said simply. Calmly. That’s what Alec needed to be.

“Uh…”

“Max?”

The younger boy cowered into his robes. “I don’t know how.”

“¿Qué quieres decir con que no sabes?” Rafael hissed.

“Rafe,” Alec stepped in. Children fighting on the ceiling, that he could not reach no matter his height, was not on his list of things he wanted to happen while Magnus was gone for the weekend. “Max. I need you to calm down.”

His blue boy had turned into a blubbering mess. Tears stained his cheeks and he was trying to sniffle through the waves. “I don’t know how.”

“I know, blueberry, but I need you to stop crying if I can help.” Max took large, hiccupping gasps of air in attempt to calm down.

“Mira. Mírame.” Rafael grabbed Max’s hands away from his face. Smearing away the tears was only making the mess worse. “Breathe with me.”

Rafael coached his younger brother into controlling his breath, and in relation, lower them from the ceiling without him noticing. They fell, slowly, turned, and landed safely in the kitchen chairs. “Perfect.”

“I’m sorry, papa,” Max immediately turned, arms stretched for his father.

“You’re okay, blueberry.” Alec scooped him up, holding him tight against his chest. Their hearts were beating beside one another, both erratically thumping away with fear. He pulled Rafe into his side, giving him a thankful squeeze. “You’re okay.”

Magnus came home on Sunday sometime in the evening. He kicked off his shoes, threw his jacket into the corner of the room, knowing it would magically find itself in their closet by morning, and followed the noise of speaking into the living room. His boys were huddled together in the middle of the sofa, Alec’s head rising above the other two near his neck. He made sure to stay quiet, cautious of any sleeping bodies, and ran a ringed hand through his husband’s hair.

Alec no longer jerked whenever he suddenly approached, but instead bent his head backwards to greet the man. Magnus pressed a kiss to his hairline. “I trust everything went well?”

His husband hummed. “As well as expected.”

“What does that mean?” Magnus circled the couch, pausing to stare at the cardboard box sitting beside the reclining chair in the corner. He couldn’t see any specific objects, other than the stick Max begged to have one day. “What happened?”

Alec shook his head slowly. Max was curled up in his lap, head rested perfectly in the crook of his neck, and Rafael took sanction on his side in a mirrored position. Magnus loved seeing them like this, but not with no much tension still hanging in the air.

“I’ll tell you later,” Alec promised.

Magnus nodded, accepting that for now until the truth was told later. He settled beside their eldest son. He jerked awake at the sudden shift in weight before realizing there was no attack on his life, and then repositioned himself into his other father’s arms.

“What are you watching?”

“Harry Potter.” Rafael groaned in his arms. Magnus rose a quizzical brow at his husband.

He had a lot of explaining to do.