#Tonks forever

[whinlatter]

something tells me you don't really like tonks, just a hunch xD

For the relationship ask if you're still doing it: harry and remus, molly and remus, teddy and adromeda. I would love to see what do you think <3

noooo i love tonks! i had a ball writing her and think that @evesaintyves’ rendering of her is one of fandom’s greatest gifts 😭 i just find it very funny that harry thinks she should low key get a grip. and as a clumsy young woman who should myself get a grip, i say: get off her case, hjp.

ok the remus + tonks/black extended family universe... hyped for this one. delicious choices, thank you anon. (i have a few more in the inbox i'm going to take a stab at but am trying to avoid spoilery ones or ones where i risk boring you all again by repeating old talking points, so if i don't get to one pls forgive me...)

right — to business. we begin with everybody looking at remus lupin waiting for him to put his crippling self loathing aside to write (1) singular letter to his dead friend's son:

i jest (to an extent). but i do think the entirety of harry and remus' dynamic is best encapsulated in one singular scene in PoA:

“When they get near me — ” Harry stared at Lupin’s desk, his throat tight. “I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum.” Lupin made a sudden motion with his arm as though to grip Harry’s shoulder, but thought better of it.

i know there's a very understandable move in AUs to imagine what would have happened if remus had raised harry - or, more often, if remus had been 'allowed' to raise harry by dumbledore. but looking past the whole plot-requiring-harry-to-be-at-the-dursleys thing, the truth is, canon remus lupin would never have put himself forward to raise harry, because of his own (not unfounded!) concerns about the precarity of his existence and the dangerousness of his condition. remus' sense of self - more specifically his fear of himself, and his very low self worth - consistently lead him to hold harry at arm's length from the moment he's introduced in the series until its bitter end. i don't think remus at all approves of the way harry is treated at the dursleys. but i can very much imagine that remus thinks it would still be better than the life he could have given harry if he ever had been called upon to serve as his primary caregiver. one of the most interesting implicit dynamics in the series is that harry notices this and does, to some extent, resent it (obviously the fact that he only ever calls him 'lupin' in his narration, though uses remus to his face, and also: 'Harry had received no mail since the start of term; his only regular correspondent was now dead and although he had hoped that Lupin might write occasionally, he had so far been disappointed.') while the harry & remus fight in DH is about harry's view of what remus ought to do re tonks and the baby, it’s also harry coming as close as saying to remus: you're letting your own child down like you let me down. ('I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually... He had it coming to him,” said Harry. Broken images were racing each other through his mind: Sirius falling through the veil; Dumbledore suspended, broken, in midair; a flash of green light and his mother’s voice, begging for mercy… ‘Parents,’ said Harry, 'shouldn’t leave their kids unless—unless they’ve got to.')

molly and remus: i think this is a very, very underrated relationship! i know there’s a lot of molly-bashing around these days, especially if you’re a marauders and/or sirius and/or wolfstar stan. but i think it is very very overlooked that the person who looks after adult remus the most from 1995 onwards, and who shows him some of the deepest trust and roots for his happiness, is molly. for a man who has plainly known a huge amount of financial/food/housing insecurity, and who is so villainised in wider wizarding society, it is no small gesture for molly to not only provide for remus materially but also to trust him in a house with all of her children and encourage him in a romantic relationship he struggles to feel entitled to and worthy of. (i love sirius, but he is in no fit state to ‘look after’ remus in the last year of his life, and fandom’s continued unwillingness to recognise the importance of domestic/caregiving labour as a vital contribution to the resistance will never not be problematic af). remus clearly values and admires molly in return - the only time he actually ever entertains a parent/guardianship role is when molly is weeping over her boggart, crying onto remus’ shoulder (‘what must you think of me?’) and he assures her that if anything were to happen to her and arthur, he would be a part of the team making sure her children are taken date of (‘what do you think we’d do, let them starve?’) remus’ relationship with molly is often the more mild-mannered translator of her viewpoint to others (especially others with hot tempers), and mediator trying to find middle ground between molly’s protective instincts and the battle/ready instincts of others. (more grist to my sirius & ginny parallels mill — in DH, when a fuming ginny is desperately trying to sneak off to fight in the battle, it’s remus who appeals to molly and ginny to find the compromise of ginny staying in the room of requirement to know what’s going on but not actively fight, a mirror image of his role mediating the dispute between sirius and molly over harry’s right to know what’s going on at grimmauld in ootp…) molly accepts this compromise, a sign that she trusts remus implicitly (she never frets that a werewolf is living among her children in ootp onwards, and invites him to christmas readily even after months undercover with the pack) and also feels able to call him out (‘i’ve always said you’re taking a ridiculous line on this, remus’.) this is too long but basically — justice for molly and remus, unlikely buds!

teddy and andromeda: i weirdly think a lot about teddy lupin these days. i tend to imagine teddy as a very mild-mannered, affable, calm child, like who remus might have been had he not been bitten, with tonks' heart and sociability but also with something of remus' more philosophical disposition. i think he'd slip very naturally into a big brother role because, in part, he does see himself as having a responsibility to take care of people, and i think this would shine through in his relationship with andromeda. we know teddy was raised by his gran, and i imagine she feels enormously protective of him, perhaps bordering on strict in her desire to keep him safe from the harm that came to all the rest of her family. but i like to imagine teddy didn't act out against this too much, in part because he understands where it comes from and in turn feels very protective of andromeda. growing up in the aftermath of the war would make teddy as a child particularly aware of the grief and pain and the silences among the adults around him, and i think teddy would take any compensatory protective strictness on andromeda's part with good grace, and humour her for it. i like to think teenage/young adult teddy serves as the translator for any of his gran's more prickly edges, and that they have a very close relationship that both of them really treasure.

[rewritingcanon]

hello everybody i am back with another epic fanfic drop for @marauderswithpalestineproject. this one is andromeda-centric, with heavy focus on her relationship with her sisters, ted as a contrast, and her mother who is also doomed by the narrative (spoiler! everyone in the fic kinda is!). it’s mostly canon compliant (i think i accidentally messed up the birthdays for some of the characters… whoopsie..) and will eventually feature baby nymphadora as a treat for 25k words of angst. mwah mwah check it out if you want to maybe!!

[silverameco]

Remadora makes no sense

Because Remus belongs with Sirius and Tonks belongs with me

[elskanellis]

HP Trans Fest 2023 fic claim

I am absolutely thrilled to share that I participated in @hptransfest this year. My prompt was about non-binary Tonks dealing with dysphoria and discovering found family. "This will be fun!" I thought. "Found family, what a joyous trope! Queer genderfuckery is such a wonderful lens through which to explore Tonks as a character! What a nice break from angst this will be!"

Anyway it turned out to be very therapeutic to write this story. In, like, the most harrowing sense of that word. It hit really close to home, and the plot goes through some rough moments, but I hope I was able to bring across some of the joy that Tonks (and I) have found.

you will seem more like being on AO3

T | tonks | found family | queer themes | metamorphmagus | being forcibly outed | being forcibly closeted | no one loves a closet more than Albus Dumbledore | a convoluted lesson invoking Yggdrasil | the found family is a bunch of goth kids

Endless thanks to @letitstand and @thehoneybeet for alpha reading and to @goblinmatriarch for the beta. @melociraptor, @myrtlefics, @boxboxlewis, and mazza provided emotional support and indulged me as i shared multiple playlists of first- and second-wave goth classics. 🖤🖤 Thanks also to the fest mods and to the Magical Trans server for all your support!

[carewyncromwell]

“Stolen moments, gone forever! Well, tables can turn, as my enemies will soon enough learn...”

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri​ // brief reference to Maya and Jacob Avery @akikocho​

x~x~x~x

The Jokers’ Domain was always a very lively place. New faces and new acts arrived everyday, and no one day was ever just like the last. But one day that certainly left an impact on a lot of its longtime residents was the day the man who would become known as the Escape Artist first stumbled in.

For one, he was a complete wreck, visually. His pale, bruised face was hemmed in by a mane of long, matted black-brown curls, dripping wet onto his shoulders. He wore only one black boot, and his left pant leg had been almost completely ripped off, the loose blue fabric dangling by the thread off his leg like a cape. And that didn’t even touch the dirty, bloodstained straitjacket he was inexplicably wearing. He’d managed to cut the sleeves open with something sharp -- whatever it was, it’d left his hands bleeding through the fabric. Despite the injuries to his hands, though, he kept his left fist clenched around something round, silver, and covered in green algae -- a pocketwatch emblazoned with the crest of the Country of Spades.

The other thing that made the man memorable, though, was how he so thoroughly trashed several Carnival acts as soon as he arrived, without even meaning to.

The poor man seemed very precarious on his feet, and to make matters worse, he seemed both unable to form words and close to blind -- almost as if he was a newborn baby animal still struggling to master his senses and muscular coordination. Blinking rapidly but seeing almost nothing, he stumbled right into Ismelda Murk’s tent and ended up right in the center of her knife-throwing act. Despite being both overwhelmed by the sounds of the crowd and unable to see clearly, the strange man somehow managed to avoid the throng of knives Ismelda had flung out toward her targets by ducking the first three, dodging the fourth, and even catching the last one in his teeth. Then, dropping the knife at once, he ran out, grunting something indiscernible as he shoved Ismelda’s assistant Beatrice roughly out of his way.

“Ddddeafff -- geottru -- phind -- ”

As soon as the strange extricated himself from Ismelda’s act, though, he ended up barreling right into a fortune teller’s stall and shattering her crystal ball (where he managed to dodge the punch from the owner’s husband); took the reins of a cart and rode it a short way until crashing it into another tent (further damage from which he avoided by somersaulting out at the last minute); and then finally landed right in the midst of Beast Tamer Charlie’s act (which resulted in a dragon getting loose and the man narrowly escaping getting his head taken off by its spiked tail when it took off into the air).

It was one of the Domains’ most respected Jokers, Tulip, who finally put an end to this lively romp by putting her foot out and tripping the new arrival so that he stumbled half-blind into a tub of bobbing apples pushed forward by Tonks. The water splashing in his face seemed to startle the man back to life. He sputtered, shaking his head and wet hair, as he shakily tried to climb back out of the tub.

“Lem -- Lemme aught -- aught -- out -- ”

“Easy, mate,” said Tonks. “We’ll help you out.”

With Tulip’s help, Tonks helped the man up and out of the tub. He was suddenly shaking from head to toe as he blinked rapidly, trying to take in where he was clearly. Some light was slowly coming to life in his eyes as his vision started to clear.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tulip said playfully. “Can you see us now?”

The man blinked at her, then Tonks, then his surroundings. He seemed both incredibly overwhelmed and confused -- the water dripping down his face seemed to startle him again when he registered it and he shook himself fiercely, yanking himself out of Tulip and Tonks’s grip with a loud grunt.

“Nu -- find -- gawtu find -- ”

But Tonks cartwheeled over and cut him off before he could go bolting off again.

"Wotcher, stranger,” she said, holding her hands up to try to both halt and pacify him. “We’re not here to hurt you. At least Tulip and I aren’t -- can’t say the same for the people whose acts you disrupted...”

She jabbed a thumb at Charlie trying to rein in the dragon that was flying free overhead and prompting other Carnival workers to run for cover.

The man seemed to wince slightly, seeing the destruction he’d wrought. Tulip, however, was grinning broadly.

“I thought it was pretty funny,” she said brightly. “I mean, the way you ducked that one bloke’s punch by sliding right between his legs? That was brilliant! And the way you caught Ismelda’s knife in your teeth? You really are quite an escape artist, Mr....?”

Rather than answer, though, the man could only throw his gaze around, his bleary, lost eyes blinking rapidly as he sought out every face he could -- combed through them with desperation. He even at one point pushed Tulip right out of his way, his pale, bruised face resembling a starving man’s as he took in the Carnival tents, grunting anxious gibberish under his breath.

“ -- Dunshe -- dddeaff -- kairla find...”

Tulip frowned as she shared a side-long glance with Tonks. The pink-haired Joker then approached Jacob a bit more gently.

“It looks like you’re bleeding, mate,” she said. “Here...”

She materialized a handkerchief seemingly out of nothing, dipped it in the remaining water from the apple bobbing bucket, and then tried to wipe some of the blood off of his temple. In doing so, Tonks ended up brushing some of the hair out of the stranger’s face, making his skull-like, almond-shaped blue eyes easier to see.

“He’s a Cromwell!”

Tonks and Tulip looked up, startled, as Beatrice pushed through the crowd, Ismelda not far behind.

“I know those eyes,” she said, pointing right at the stranger with narrowed eyes. “Only the Cromwell Clan jewelers have eyes like those. He must be from the Diamond Empire!”

“Weird to be from Diamonds, if he’s carrying one of these,” said Tulip.

She held up the pocketwatch the stranger had been carrying up until then, letting it dangle off its chain. The man got very agitated seeing that Tulip had snatched the watch from him and immediately made a furious move as if to retrieve it, but Tonks circumvented him by stomping down hard on his foot.

“Sorry, mate, but I can’t let you hurt my best bud,” Tonks said in a bracing voice. “Now you want to tell us who you are? Maybe even just a name we can call you, if that’s too much?”

The man, however, didn’t answer. Instead, without getting up off the ground, he rolled right across the ground, right past Tulip and Tonks. When Beatrice and Ismelda tried to stop him, he weaved around them, snatching one of Ismelda’s spare knives out of her belt as he went. Then he cut several ropes on the nearest tents, making them come flopping down around the surrounding Jokers -- the mayhem that ensued allowed the man to snatch the pocketwatch back from Tulip, before he ran off into the woods and out of sight.

And that was the day the strange man who’d stumbled his way into the Jokers’ Domain with no name or awareness of who or where he was gained the title of the Escape Artist.

x~x~x~x

Somewhat surprisingly, the Escape Artist did return to the Jokers’ Domain after that whole fiasco. He actually came back with his face and straitjacket looking cleaner than before, dressed in new boots and pants, and bearing some reimbursement for the damage he’d done in the form of several small bags full of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. He even gave knife thrower Beatrice the additional gift of an onyx ring, which -- although too big to wear on her ring finger -- still fit her thumb.

“They didnert know me,” the Escape Artist told her. “De Cromwell Clan Joolers. Bu’ thanks anyway.”

His words were shockingly articulate compared to when he appeared in the Jokers’ Domain several months prior, but he still seemed to have some trouble articulating certain consonants. He also seemed unable to answer simple questions like what his name was or what he was looking for, even though it was obvious that he was searching for something. These things clearly weren’t indicative of his intelligence, though -- at one point on his second trip, he sought out Tulip, showing off the pocketwatch she’d tried to take from him.

“Th’shell is Di-mound Em-pyre silver,” he said, his eyes narrowed with determination despite the sloppiness of his words. “Bu’the balance and gears air steel -- de likes o’ which aren’t Di-mound -- andchu sed t’was weird, fer me chu have one o’ these. Hoo’as a watch lie dis, dat chu’ve seen?”

Tulip’s lips knit together a bit more tightly. “Don’t know if I should say...are you planning to go running off to find that person next, if I tell you?”

The Escape Artist nodded.

“She’s right dangerous,” Tulip warned him. “Probably wouldn’t take kindly to you barging into her country and causing havoc. Not that I mind havoc,” she added with a wry grin, “That’s always good fun. And honestly, I’d say Patricia Rakepick is long overdue for some real chaos..."

“Patricia Rakepick?” repeated the Escape Artist. He said the name perfectly clearly and in an oddly sharp tone of voice.

“Yup. Once the Ace of Spades, now having styled herself Queen of the lot. She’s made herself quite a Tyrant, so I’ve heard.”

The Escape Artist’s eyes seemed to have gone very dark and murky as he took a step back and turned away. Tulip cocked her eyebrows at him, interested.

“Do you know her?” she asked.

“No,” said the Escape Artist. He glanced over his shoulder at Tulip, his skull-like eye shining with determination. “Bu’ hi intend to.”

As he started to walk back toward the flap of the tent, Tulip stopped him.

“Hold on,” she said. “If you’re planning on starting anything, you should at least take a few calling cards.”

She gave him a small handful of playing cards. When he unfurled them the way a dealer would a hand, the dark-haired man saw they were all various designs of Joker cards.

“Patricia Rakepick’s been looking for enemies to target lately,” said Tulip. “Best make sure she knows that it’s us who’s giving her a headache, rather than any more innocent bystanders. If nothing else, we Jokers don’t need any Hearts or Diamonds stealing the credit!” she said a bit more mischievously.

The Escape Artist considered the cards for a moment before pocketing them with a shrug and turning to go again.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Escape Artist?” Tulip called after him, her face becoming a bit more serious. “Escaping the Country of Spades is hard enough on its own -- trying to escape its Tyrant, once she has you in her sights? That’s quite a dragon to poke in the eye.”

If the dark-haired Joker heard her, he didn’t respond.

Tulip’s lips curled up in a weak, faintly cynical smile as she turned her back on the tent flap through which the Escape Artist had left.

“Let the game begin...”

x~x~x~x

When the Escape Artist arrived in Spades, he was taken aback by how much colder it was, compared to the Jokers’ Domain. But hey, that’s what happens when you stroll on into the Country of Spades in the middle of winter.

Sadly the Escape Artist was a bit ill-equipped to buy anything -- Spades’ trade had abruptly become highly regulated with Rakepick’s rise to power, and the Escape Artist lacked the identification needed to purchase any warmer clothing from the local shops. Fortunately he finally found a man shivering in an alley who was willing to trade his old red waistcoat for one of the large diamonds the Escape Artist had "acquired” while escaping the Cromwell Clan Jewelers. The coat was decorated with little black buttons shaped like spades -- the Escape Artist found himself fiddling with them off-and-on for the next hour, oddly charmed by their shape.

He felt like he’d had buttons like these once...maybe on a waistcoat like this one. He liked this shade of red.

As the Escape Artist strolled along, he earned quite a few side-long glances for his strange attire. The waistcoat wasn’t strange exactly -- a bit bright, perhaps, but otherwise normal -- but the straitjacket-turned-shirt was definitely odd, as was the length and shagginess of the man’s hair. There was also something oddly ghostly about his features -- his complexion was so pale and his eyes were so sunken-in that his face resembled a skull. Not to mention he kept rambling only half-decipherable nonsense to himself under his breath --

“Kwite a drear locale...de road’s blocked off, dat’s new...where’s de shop? Dere we go...s’all closed up. I know it, dun I? ...Dun I...know it...?”

The Escape Artist wandered quite a while. It was honestly like his feet were on autopilot, not even consulting his brain for a destination. Before he knew it, he’d ended up outside the castle of Spades. It was as he ended up in the shadow of the old clock tower that he found himself finally slowly coming to a stop, his eyes drawn up to it.

It was beautiful, wasn’t it? With its ornate iron spire and baronial architecture...must be just under 200 feet high...190, perhaps? Why, the turret clock’s face alone would have to be at least ten feet in diameter, and all made out of the most beautiful opal stained glass...

Its beauty was...foreboding, somehow. It chilled the Escape Artist to his core, just looking at it. The light behind that glass just seemed so lukewarm...warding him off, rather than beckoning him closer...

“He -- he was assassinated -- ”

The Escape Artist suddenly felt like his throat had sealed up. He clutched his head, choking painfully -- he felt a pair of black eyes on him, boring into him gravely --

“Then you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?”

It was too much. Overwhelmed with pain, the dark-haired man quickly withdrew, unable to stay in the shadow of the clocktower any longer.

He withdrew so quickly, though, that he took no notice of the soldiers that had entered the courtyard to confront him until he ran right into them.

“Hey!” one of them said indignantly. “Watch where you’re going, you!”

The Escape Artist stumbled back at the collision, but didn’t bother responding to the officers -- instead he impatiently tried to move past them. His head was pounding too badly for him to think straight...

“Hold it right there!” snapped the officer.

He grabbed the back of the Escape Artist’s coat and roughly pulled him back.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he demanded.

“Dis spot ‘urts me,” mumbled the Escape Artist absently.

The other officer fixed him with a scornful, incredulous look. “It hurts you? Well, you’re gonna be feeling a lot more hurt, if you don’t apologize to my buddy right now for running into him -- ”

“Sorry,” the Escape Artist cut him off dully. “Now woncha kind-y bugger off...”

He made as if to leave again, but the officer holding him pulled him back so roughly he almost ripped his coat.

“What’d you say?” he snarled. “You have any idea who we are, you little pipsqueak?”

The Escape Artist’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dig to his modest height. “A pair o’ peabrains, fro’what I can see.”

The second officer grabbed hold of Jacob’s collar, looking ready to choke him.

“Troublemaker, huh?” he sneered, his teeth bared like a dog’s. “How about we just throw you in the slammer -- let you cool your ankles in some chains for a night?”

Chains. The Escape Artist remembered those -- there were manacles on both his ankles and his wrists -- binding him to a wall, locking him to cold stone --

Until he broke those chains. He broke them open. He then picked open the lock on the door and fled, overpowering the rifle-toting guard by the door with his bare hands and snatching the keys from a room two floors up --

The Escape Artist raised his head, his skull-like blue eyes flashing like gems as his lips unfurled in a crazed, manic smirk that made the officers shrink back.

“Y’think y’could ‘old me?” he whispered. “Go on then -- giv’it yer best go!”

Out of nowhere, he abruptly slammed the helmet on the second officer’s head down hard enough to stun him. Then, within seconds, he‘d slipped right out of the red coat, kneed the first officer in the groin, and snatched back his coat, slipping it back on as he ran across the courtyard.

“Augh -- ow -- don’t let him get away!” shouted the second officer.

The two men immediately pursued, chasing the Escape Artist throughout the palace grounds for what felt like hours. In that time, more and more officers arrived to try to fence him in, but to no avail. The Spades soldiers had no idea how this man could have such extensive knowledge of the palace’s grounds that he could navigate its winding halls with seemingly so little effort -- was it just luck on his part, or perhaps intuition? Was he really just that smart that he could figure out where there were likely to be emergency exits and how best to scale staircases and walls to avoid them? And worse still -- with every move this man made, he was making his way closer and closer to the throne room -- closer to the Queen of Spades --

Sure enough, that was the path the Escape Artist ended up taking, whether consciously or not. And when he arrived in the throne room and first lay eyes on the woman named Patricia Rakepick, he found himself once again frozen, stock still, just as he had been in the courtyard south of the clocktower.

“You!” “YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!” “ -- a danger as long as he’s alive -- ” “This is for the Queen -- !”

The Escape Artist’s head was throbbing with pain just looking at the woman sitting in that strangely familiar throne, dressed in gold-trimmed, military-worthy white and black. He felt himself shaking from head to toe as his eyes bore into her, struggling to focus through the blinding rage in his blood --

He didn’t know her. He knew he’d never seen her before in his life. And yet --

It was only because of the pain and confusion throbbing through the Joker’s head distracting him that the Army of Spades was able to catch up with him and -- with their superior numbers -- finally restrain him. They locked him in irons, with several officers pinning him to the floor on his stomach so he couldn’t get up.

“Mr. -- uh -- Whoever-You-Are -- you’re under arrest!”

“Does he have identification?”

“Don’t think so -- all he’s got in his pocket are some gems and a small deck of Joker cards -- ”

“So he’s a Joker?”

“What’s your name, Joker?”

“Dunno, dun care,” spat the Escape Artist, “an’ eve’if I did, I would nah tell th’ likes o’ chu, you shag-bag scrubs -- !”

The highest-ranked officer stepped on the back of the Joker’s curly head so as to roughly slam his face into the polished floor.

Rakepick’s face was arrogant when she finally rose from her throne and strode over to get a better look at who her subordinates had captured. She even used the toe of her boot to prompt the man to tilt his head from his position on the floor enough that she could better see his face.

When she did, however, the Tyrant of Spades’s face went as white as a sheet.

“It can’t be,” she breathed.

The Escape Artist stared up at Rakepick, his skull-like almond-shaped blue eyes boring into her in a mix of confusion and distrust. The lack of recognition in his eyes made Rakepick’s eyes widen further as she took a step back, throwing her gaze to the far window, through which one could see the clocktower in the distance. Yet it was like she didn’t see it or the window -- instead her gaze was cloudy, as if her mind was racing with thoughts.

“Your Majesty?”

An older woman with an orange streak in her gray bangs had come up behind the lesser officers, her arms folded behind her back in military posture. She was even dressed similarly to Rakepick, though colored black and violet, with a “J” emblazoned on her lapel.

“Madam Jack...” murmured one of the higher-ranked officers. The title made the Escape Artist twitch.

“Madam Jack?” There was no “Madam Jack” -- there was no -- !

But the woman called the Jack ignored both the Escape Artist twitching on the floor and her subordinate.

“What shall we do with the prisoner?” she prompted Rakepick.

Rakepick’s eyes darted down to the supposed Jack of Spades and then to the Escape Artist still fidgeting restlessly on the floor. Somewhere in her eyes, he could almost see something oddly tense, which then seemed to slowly chill and harden like ice before his eyes.

“Lock him in our strongest irons inside our base’s highest security cell under heavy guard,” the Tyrant of Spades said coldly. “I do not want him escaping us again.”

The soldiers holding the Escape Artist seized him, forcibly lugging him back up onto his feet. The Escape Artist tried to bolt out of their grip, but the chains binding him combined with the five men all holding him gave him no adequate leverage to pull free. As they dragged him out of the throne room with all of their strength, some of the soldiers could just barely catch some of the Tyrant and her Jack’s whispered exchange.

“ -- was dead?”

“He is dead -- ”

“Then how do you explain him? Or is that man a ghost sent back to haunt me?”

The tenseness in their leaders’ voices filled up the lesser officers with considerable dread as they led this mysterious prisoner out of the palace of Spades and through the courtyard toward the base just northward. As they went, they had to pass by the clock tower, where a very cold, supernatural wind swiped through them, on its way back toward the bell tower.

Another poor soul imprisoned by the likes of Rakepick, the ghost of Duncan Ashe thought grimly, as he faded away through the stone walls. How many more would there be, until Veruca was able to wrench control back out of Rakepick’s control...?

x~x~x~x

What happened next just about no one can fully agree on. The most credible account after the fact ended up being that of Maya Avery, a prisoner at the time who was associated with the resistance against Patricia Rakepick. Following her and her brother Jacob Avery’s escape from the base of Spades’ prison, she explained the serendipity of the circumstances thusly --

“The Tyrant’s men had brought this strange messy-haired man into custody. I remember because there were about five soldiers all holding onto his chains, just to keep him from escaping, as they dragged him past my cell. As he passed, he looked me over with this really focused look. Later that night, I heard a lot of ruckus, and when I got up, I saw him barreling past the cells, dragging four whole chains on his wrists and ankles behind him. When he saw me, he dashed up to my cell and told me to give him one of my hairpins. I tried to ask him what for, but he didn’t even answer -- he just snatched it right out of my hair and then bent it all out of shape! I was a bit cross at first, of course -- but then he set about picking the lock to my cell with it and then left the door open.

“‘There,’ he said. ‘Normally I’d offer to pay you, but I think this is probably more useful. The keys are two floors up, three doors down on your right, if you want them -- they’ll probably be too busy chasing me to notice you.’ His words were really slurred, so he said it a bit more messily than that, but you get the idea.

“Anyway, by then, he’d picked the locks on his manacles and he just ran off down the hall to the left. So I took his distraction and went to go get the keys so I could get Jacob and some of the others out. When we got up top, we found the whole base in disarray. The bloke from before must’ve stolen one of those new Mecha suits Rakepick’s been developing, and he used it to torch the warehouse holding the rest of them in it. Then he used the one he was in to bust his way right through the stone wall and hightail it right out of Spades. It was brilliant -- it was terrifying, of course, trying to escape that big of a fire...but still, it was brilliant.”

However the Escape Artist managed to trash every single one of the Mecha suits Rakepick had commisioned, though, two things were certain -- one, Patricia Rakepick was very, VERY angry that the Escape Artist had gotten away; and two, those who cursed the so-called “Tyrant of Spades” proposed a toast at the destruction of her newest “toys.” Even the ghost of Duncan Ashe, upon learning what happened from Veruca, seemed notably satisfied by the news.

“Jacob sketched out those suit designs with the thought of making mining safer and easier,” he admitted after some prompting, his gaze drawn away through the opal glass of the clock face. “They were supposed to help people, not be weapons of war.”

If Veruca hadn’t been so close to him at the time, she would’ve never caught the Counselor’s ghost’s melancholy whisper as he closed his eyes, fading away into supernaturally cold air.

 “...Jacob only ever wanted to do good for people. When he was alive...that’s all he ever wanted to do...”

[crystlizabeth]

Lets be fr Snape having children later in Life would lead lucius and narcissa have another child bc lucius would want them to grow up together bc Snape and Malfoy are besties idc it would happen🤷🏽‍♀️

Zhuri Snape

Zane Malfoy

Heath Black

Toddrick lupin

Vivianna Reznikof

Like there all oc and this has been my fixation for the past week like i have printrest boards dedicated to them

[r0seart]

It’s the last day of pride month

A common thing I’ve heard (at least in my country) when June becomes July is to put away the pride flags because “it isn’t pride month anymore”. Well I say that’s bullshit. Every month is pride month when you’re LGBTQ+.

So I made some of the wizarding fam celebrating pride to remind my followers and anyone who stumbles across my art that we shouldn’t limit our pride to just one month.

Note this is meant to be an uplifting post. Especially with the things that have happened and bills that passed this year. Being LGBTQ+ in America has gotten pretty tough so I want to indulge in some queer joy for a bit.

[impishtubist]

Okay I posted a R/S thing so now I need to cleanse my blog: Remus is short and scrawny and weak and not at all hot, he abandoned Harry and Sirius for 12 years because he was too busy being sad to think about another person, Sirius can do way better for a romantic partner and also deserves way better than Remus, and honestly the only person who is worthy of Sirius’s love is James Potter.

[celestemagnoliathewriter]

1 and 2 for the end of year fic writing ask list

thank you for the ask anon!

favorite fic you wrote this year

It's a tie between my time traveling Tonks series and my time traveling Teddy story, Call Me Edward. I poured my heart and soul into the Tonks series. I challenged myself in a lot of new ways with the Teddy series and it's the fic I reread most that I wrote. I love them both so much and I'm really proud of them.

2. least favorite fic you wrote this year

Probably this one-shot called Dinner. It was for a competition. It's not the story itself that makes it my least favorite, just the circumstances around it that left a bad taste in my mouth. It's a fine fic, but it makes me salty to think of how it got into the world.

Fanfic end of year asks

[snekdood]

lmao???

this quiz sorts through characters from like dozens of fandoms and finds the one you’re most like. I’m not even a little bit surprised by my result

[xcursebroken]

"Save a dance for me?"

@potentialbreakupscng

"No promises on the drinks," he laughed, already well on the way to tipsy himself. It felt like ages since they'd been able to really let go with all the fear and tension of the second war hanging over them. Bill knew Voldemort's fall didn't mean it was over. His supporters would still be out there, but it was a hell of a win, and seeing his family come through it safely was nothing short of a miracle. It was more than a week since the Battle of Hogwarts. They'd had time to bury their dead and show their respect. They deserved a chance to celebrate now, drinks and music flowing freely at The Burrow after dinner.

[nixiegenesis]

I forgot how much I enjoy playing as my dunmer son.

[cosmerelists]

Top 10 Cosmere Fake-Outs: Ranked by How Well they Fooled Me

By "fake-outs," I mean times when the narrative tried to convince me that something had happened or was true (for example: this character is DEAD!) when in fact it was all a lie.

By necessity, THIS POST WILL CONTAIN LOTS OF MAJOR SPOILERS!

Specifically: Major spoilers for Warbreaker, Stormlight Archives, Mistborn Eras 1 and 2, and Yumi & the Nightmare Painter. I won't put character names in the titles of the entries, but if you haven't read all of those listed works, please move on!

#10: A Words of Radiance Death

In Words of Radiance, Jasnah is attacked by assassins while on board a ship with Shallan. Shallan sees Jasnah's lifeless body being stabbed, and then the ship literally goes down in flames. Jasnah has certainly died!

Yeah...I didn't buy it for even one second, to be honest. I was twiddling my thumbs waiting for the reveal that Jasnah had actually survived, because of course she did. (This is not a complaint!)

#9: A Secret Project Death

At the end of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter, Yumi dies, and it's a real fake-out. Sanderson goes so far as to have a secret, extra epilogue that isn't in the table of contents where her death is reversed. I wasn't quite as sure while reading that Yumi would survive--at least, not as sure as I was when Jasnah "died." But I was pretty sure. 

#8: A Mistborn Era 1 Death

Specifically: Kelsier. When Kelsier dies at the end of Book 1 (!), I was shocked...and suspicious. Would Sanderson really kill off a character like Kelsier in Book 1??? Well, as it turns out...yes. But also no. Because Kelsier clings to "life" as a Cognitive Shadow and is still off doing things in future books. So I still count this one as a fake-out!

#7: Another Mistborn Era 1 Death

Another character who "dies" in Mistborn Era 1 is Marsh, Kelsier's brother. They find what they think is his completely obliterated body and are like "oh no." Of course, any time there is a completely obliterated body, we as readers will be suspicious: if it's really Marsh, why no face? But I actually wasn't too very suspicious of this one because Marsh felt like a character who could die, narratively speaking. I didn't, like, drop my book out of shock when he turned back up, but I was more surprised than I had been with the others.

#6: Just An Innocent Old Man in Way of Kings

This is referring to Taravangian, who in Way of Kings is presented as a dottering old man who's well-meaning but not too bright. I'm not going to lie, I bought this one hook, line, and sinker. The villain reveal for Taravangian did take me almost completely by surprise! The impact was only lessened insofar as I wasn't that interested in Taravangian pre-reveal, so I didn't feel, like, betrayed or anything.

#5: Nice Guys in Warbreaker

I 100% believed that Denth and Tonk Fah worked for Lemex, were relatively sad about his totally natural death, and were sincerely working for Vivenna afterwards. This is in spite of the fact that the narrative was not at all shy about dropping hints that this was not true. There's the fact that we're told people with tons of breaths are strong & healthy...yet I was like, "Yeah, makes sense that Lemex died of natural causes." We see Vasher position himself against Vivenna and company, and yet I was like, "Vasher probably has his reasons but it's not like Vivenna and company are doing bad things." This one was a shock especially because I liked Denth & Tonk Fah! 

#4: Dalinar and Amaram are BFFs forever

This one runs the risk of being more of a plot twist than a fake-out...but hear me out. We're led to believe that Dalinar has finished investigating Amaram and has decided not to believe Kaladin; he and Amaram are BFFs forever and ever. Then there's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment when Dalinar is "out sick" for a week, but I for one thought nothing of that. Then it turns out that Dalinar was in fact laying a trap for Amaram, which Amaram waltzed right into, and Dalinar finally learned the truth. So I think it counts as a fake-out: I was certainly very surprised when Dalinar called Kaladin up "for an apology" and it turned out to be Amaram who needed to apologize. 

#3: Jasnah's Soulcaster

Shallan's whole plot line in Way of Kings is centered around her trying to steal Jasnah's very real and functional Soulcaster by swapping it for Shallan's broken one. Personally, it did not occur to me for even a second that Jasnah's Soulcaster also didn't work and was also a fake, so Shallan simply swapped one fake for another. In part, this was because I did not understand how any of the magic worked on Roshar at this point. But still. It definitely fooled me good.

#2: A Mistborn Era 2 Death

I will admit, it never even entered into the realm of possibility for me that Wax's old wife, Lessie, wasn't dead. We watched her die in the flashback. She was buried. She felt like just one of those fridged women and I had not even a shred of doubt that her death actually happened. I was so sure that when Bleeder literally reverted into Lessie's form and voice, I just assumed she had eaten Lessie's bones. This one really, REALLY shocked me.

#1: Mistborn Era 1: Follow the Ancient Text

But even so, I think the fake-out that most shocked me was the one at the end of Well of Ascension. Vin knew, per the very accurate ancient writings left behind by Kwaan, that she had to resist the power offered by the Well and give it up--even if that meant letting someone she loved die. This felt like such a classic climax and source of tension, that I was just waiting with baited breath hoping that Vin would give up the power. And she did. And it was a mistake. Because it turns out that if you copy down Kwaan's words--which were inscribed in metal so that they could not be altered--on to paper, then Ruin's gonna alter them and you can't trust the ancient prophecy after all. In following the "prophecy" at great personal cost, Vin was just doing what Ruin wanted anyway.

I'm still not over this one. 

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY WINTER SOLACE SHANA HELL YEAH I MADE IT IN TIME!!! CAN I GET ME SOME TONKS AND PERCY AS A BIRTHDAY TREAT? 👉🏻👈🏻 (My birthday is the 22nd) HAVE AN AWESOME HOLIDAY! 🎄🎄🎄

 Percy is supposed to focusing on these reports that he technically shouldn’t have taken out of the office, but technically Crouch is supposed to be handling these, so.

While his absolute piece of shit apartment usually holds no more appeal than being stuck in the office overnight, it currently has Tonks resting with her head on his thigh “resting her eyes” since she refuses to go to bed before him because she believes in blackmail and manipulation. Which he can’t reasonably say he’s surprised by, considering, but it is a little inconvenient.

His work is important or he wouldn’t be doing it, but if he falls asleep at work the worst that happens is he embarrasses himself. If Tonks goes out on a call without getting proper rest, she could be putting herself in danger. Leveraging her own safety to get him to sleep is underhanded and irresponsible.

She’s going to do exceptionally well working under Shackbolt. He’d plucked her out from the other trainees from the beginning. It has nothing to do with him, but he can’t help the smug furl of pride anyway.

He clears his throat and her eyes flutter open. She has to blink a couple times for them to settle to her natural dark brown, cycling through several shades of blue and yellow. He wonders what she was dreaming about. “Bill has a meeting at Gringott’s on Thursday. He’s going to come by the office after and we’re going to go to the cafeteria to catch up.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, turning to press her face into his stomach and rubbing her nose against his sweater. He makes a mental note to try and talk to the landlord about doing something about the heating system, or at least refreshing the charms himself, but he’s not good enough to make them last long. Maybe Bill wouldn’t mind doing it before he returns to Egypt? “Are you done going through the Russian reports?”

No. Translation charms are imperfect and it takes him forever to parse through and figure out what’s actually being described. If Crouch wasn’t such a dick to them, they’d submit in English. “Do you want to join us? If you can. It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

That gets her attention. “Really? I mean, sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve spoke to Bill twice ever. One time he gave me detention.”

His lips twitch. Bill remembers that. “Thank you. He wants to meet my girlfriend. Or re-meet, technically.”

She beams, so pleased whenever he calls her that. She’s been calling herself his girlfriend for a months, but it still makes him warm to see how pleased she is with the title. He’d really though he was just a passing interest, a distraction while she was desk bound, but she’s still here. “Yeah, of course. It’ll be fun!”

He hums in agreement, the sound interrupted midway with a yawn.

“Come on,” she says, pushing herself to her feet then tugging him up after her. “We both need sleep. That’ll all still be there in the morning.”

That’s the problem. But he says, “Alright,” and lets her maneuver him as she likes.

Giving in to Tonks doesn’t sting like it does with other people. It’s always a relief and a pleasure to see her satisfied and happy.

[aithusarosekiller]

Remus going up to the tower rooftop where he used to sit with Lily and Reg when he starts his job in '93 and using magic to etch 1961-1979 and 1960-1981 into one of the tiles

Inconspicuous enough that nobody would know who did it or what it was for but he would still have his friends there. Their memory would be at their little spot forever

Him not telling anyone except Tonks who then told Andromeda because that's Andy's cousin, ofc she would want to know

Teddy going to to find it one day in the 2000s and etching 1960-1998 underneath

[justtwotired]

Family is most important

Summary: Regulus and Y/n faked their deaths in the first wizarding war to run away from everything, they got married and had a daughter. Even though both are slightly sceptical, they send her to Hogwarts, as she wanted it real bad. The moment they find out about the battle of Hogwarts, they rush over there, though are late as Voldermort is already defeated.

She/her pronounce

Just so you know: Sirius, Tonks, Remus and Fred are alive. Y/n was very, wry good friends with the Marauders because she, Peter and James where childhood friends, the daughters name is Aruna.

Warnings: cringe

Some people looked over their shoulder to see what was going on when the doors of the great hall flew open, though minded their business again as the man and woman walked in.

One of these people, was Aruna, who’s eyes widened as she saw her parents, they didn’t have any disguise and looked absolutely distressed.

Her mothers eyes landed on her and she broke out into a run. She felt her mothers arms wrap around her and her dad followed soon after.

Y/n had been worried sick for her daughters well being the moment she heard of the battle. She had dragged Regulus with her and they hurried to the castle where they found Voldemort already defeated.

“Oh, love, I was so scared of your well being! Are you hurt?” Y/n checked her daughter for injustices as the girl assured her mother she was completely fine.

By now, few of her friends watched what was happening in, as they had never met Aruna’s parents. “Did you kill some own?” Regulus smirked slightly and Y/n angrily hit his arm.

“Regulus!” She scolded. “Did you?” She asked the girl worried. “No, I didn’t kill someone, mom, I’m fine, everything is alright.” She pushed her mother away slightly and backed up.

Y/n looked at the people behind her daughter and smiled. “You must be Aruna’s friends.” She said happily and her eyes fell on a girl. “Ah! Luna, lovely to see you dear.” She smiled at the girl from who she had known the mother very well.

“Hi, aunty Y/n, uncle Regulus.” She greeted with a smile. “Mom dad, this is Hermione Granger, Ginny, Ron, Fred and George Weasley, and that’s Neville Longbottom, guys meet my parents- Uhm.” She seemed to scan her brain for quick fake names but the two smiled.

“Y/n and Regulus Black, nice to meet you.” Y/n introduced. “Fred Weasley huh?” Regulus’ eyes had fallen in the boy that they knew to be their daughters boyfriend. “Regulus, be nice.” Y/n quickly scolded.

Aruna looked at them in disbelief and they smiled slightly. “Well, wat is over, Voldermort is defeated and we do not really have to worry about much anymore, we can’t live under fake names forever, besides, Aruna Black sounds way better then Aruna Du Boyz.” Regulus shrugged.

“I don’t want to be rude, but this all is going way to fast for me.” Ginny intervened.

“Reg, Y/n?” They turned around at the familiar voice and where met with Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, next to them stood a boy that was obviously Harry. “You’re alive.” Sirius said looking between the both of them.

“Surprise?” Y/n tried and Regulus gave her an exhausted look. “Let him process for a moment, love.” He said and she smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah, well, my hands are aching and it’s been how long now? Twenty years? I really, really want to hug them!” She whined and before she knew it, she shot forward and hugged Remus tightly and Sirius wend forward and embraced his brother.

“You two have a bunch of explaining to do.” Sirius said and the two of them slightly grinned.