#a misuse of potions

[atsadi-shenanigans]

A Misuse of Potions 1- Hill Giant Strength

Wrote it, thought I should sit on it to better edit, then decided I ain't patient. Bon appetite.

Rated VERY E.

Astarion has a plan. A nice, simple plan. His love has been gone for almost a tenday, but now she's back, and he needs her to obliterate him in the best way possible.

Night has fallen. Apprentice spellworkers dart through the streets to light the lanterns as the pale wash of sunset fades into purple, and then black.

Astarion stands near the window overlooking the front street and the small, rather overgrown garden his love has been somewhat tending to.

She’s late.

She’s actually two days late, but he’s inclined to blame the wizard for that. No, she should have been here thirty minutes ago, right as the last curve of the sun sank behind the distant buildings and released the creatures of the night to their nefarious doings.

To which he would happily add his own misdeeds. Except that she’s late.

Something happened. They were waylaid by pirates. A kraken rose from the deep to smash Waterdeep and pulled that wizard tower down on top of them, and her body is so human and so, so mortal. He needs to go. Needs to check—

Magic stirs below. The scent of cinnamon and licorice he always associates with Gale’s spells. A glimmer of purple flickers in the space right before their front gate—she painted it teal and seemed quite pleased with herself—before a shimmering, purple cloud unfurls taller and taller and…

His breath sighs out of him. She emerges. Eleanor. His former leader, his friend, his love. She’s back. She’s home.

He lets the curtain fall back into place.

They’re plush things, and heavy. Purchased with him in mind and enchanted to boot. Usually, the moment it’s safe to do so, he throws them open to catch the fading light still painting the sky.

But not tonight. He doesn’t care about the sky, today. And he doesn’t want an audience.

Well, aside from one, anyway.

She unlatches the little gate and steps through. Her footsteps sound heavy. She must be tired. He hopes that won’t alter his plans. Because he did. Plan. He’s getting better at that. But now she’s late and it’s thrown him so he hurries down the stairs, soft as a sigh.

Not that he needs to. Her hearing is awful (she says it’s quite good for a human and he feels a twinge of pity at that). Plus their townhouse is enchanted against noise. Can’t have the neighbors (he has neighbors) complaining about the screaming (it’s not even bad screaming; usually involves a lot of “yes, yes oh god” even).

He hits the ground floor and surveys the room. It’s nothing grand. Nothing like the mansion he still gets dragged to in reverie sometimes. But it’s bright and tidy (they pay someone for that, because it turns out neither of them is particularly good at housekeeping). The wooden floor is well-swept and decorated with colorful rugs and potted plants (dearest Eleanor says her people were farmers). The walls are covered in patterned wallpaper and bookshelves and trinkets, tapestries and paintings she should have haggled better for, but didn’t because “good art is worth the artist.”

It's very her. And, he thinks, it might possibly him, as well? Part of him? They change things as they need to as he figures that whole mess out.

But he’s really here to check that everything is in place. No elaborate staging, though. He chose his own clothes for his own reasons, for his own purposes. He’s in their home. And it smells of them.

Or it did smell of them, And that’s the problem.

Oh, his scent is everywhere. He can’t escape that. But she’s been gone the better part of a tenday, and it’s her that’s beginning to fade.

The first, few nights were tolerable. He could nuzzle into her pillow and remember to breathe. The bedding smelled of her: rich blood, the linden soap she favors, and that wonderful, clean scent she carries on her skin. It was nearly enough for him to imagine he held her as he rested.

But the bedding wasn’t warm, like her. And though the late, summer sunlight warms the stone walls of their home and chases away the burgeoning chill of autumn, there was no living body within the walls to fill it with heat.

She wasn’t there. He was alone.

He’s been alone before, of course. Was practically alone for two centuries before he threatened her on that beach (he sighs fondly at the memory: her on her back, staring up at him with what he initially mistook for a simpleton’s vacancy, but later learned was a vicious cunning) (when she wasn’t tired) (and when what she calls her “brain chemicals” were correctly balanced).

Then they were together (he feels himself smile) for a little over a year, now. And in that time, they’ve never been apart as long as this expedition of hers.

And now their home is too cold. Too quiet. And nerves twist his stomach.

It’s almost hilarious. Centuries at seduction, and he’s now reduced to fussing over his clothing as he waits. Second guessing: where he’ll stand, how he’ll position himself. It used to be as effortless as, well, not breathing, but blinking, perhaps (even that’s a stretch). He barely thought about it. Wasn’t entirely present for more than half of it.

But now every moment drags. Her steps up their walkway. The way her lungs draw air. The beat of her heart and there’s no one to witness the slight stumble as his knees go stupidly weak.

He ought to sneer at the thought. A little over a year ago, he would have done far worse. Probably stabbed someone. But now, it’s Eleanor and he missed her, gods help him, and he smooths his hands along his front and takes up position at the door. Waits until…just…there.

Opens that door for her.

Her hand is raised to grab the knob. Now it hovers and slowly falls to her side as she boggles.

He chose well, it turns out. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he looks good. He’s retrieved his heels and laced them up. Unpacked another purchase he kept from her: a long, blood red dress of embroidered silk. It’s a slim fit, meant to hug his form. Would be tight along the legs if it wasn’t for the slit up one side.

The sleeves fall off his shoulders in a way he knows highlights them. She does love his shoulders (loves to clutch them as he works between her legs) (curl her head upon them as he reads to her) (dig her fingers in to try to ease the tense muscles when that blasted joke of an editor at the Baldur’s Mouth throws some feeble counterargument back at him).

But it’s the way her eyes follow along his collarbones to the dip that leads down his chest. It’s his chest that’s her favorite part of him (well, second) (alright, third because she says disgusting things like “your eyes” and “the way you smile” and “but if you didn’t have a mouth, I couldn’t hear you talk about plagues”).

(And she means all of those statements; she’ll just…sit there and listen to him prattle on—)

“Good evening, lover,” he purrs.

She almost drops all three bags she carries.

***

The rest on AO3 so no tumblr horny jail for me.

[bloodiedrogue]

EASY DAYS AHEAD

SUMMARY: Astarion's not used to feeling cared for. Luckily though, you're as caring as they come.

PAIRING: Astarion & Gender Neutral Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,925

WARNINGS: Astarion's POV, 18+ sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), body worship if you squint, CONSENT!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, consent is incredibly sexy. That's all I gotta say. Also that I'm pretty sure I was possessed by something because I wrote this in literally an hour and a half???

MASTERLIST

-

Astarion doesn’t deserve the care that goes into loving him. With nothing more to offer than a broken mind wrapped in precious, tainted silk, it’s hard to wrap his head around the tenderness. Specifically the feeling of your skin, trailing patterns down his spine —painting fresh images over the scars that line his back as you praise him for his efforts. 

Your voice sounds wrong in his ears. Every word distorting. All the syllables jumbling up in ways that make him narrow his eyes, staring through the darkness of the tent at nothing in particular. 

“You okay?” you ask, and even now, weeks after your first night spent together, he has to muster up everything he’s got not to break down in front of you. 

“I’m fine, darling.” 

His lips always pull in that liar’s grin, ripping through his face like knives. Slicing the inside of his cheeks each time his fangs bite down on the wet flesh inside. 

He has to force himself to look at you. To stare at the exhausted smile that slowly shifts to a frown, showcasing your insight. How you know he’s lying before he can even elaborate on why he’s fine or how you shouldn’t worry about him —he’s a creature of the night after all. 

Pressing fully against him, he hears you click your tongue and shake your head as if scolding him. “What do you need?” 

Each time you pose that same question he feels like dying. Despite the fact his heart no longer works like yours —despite the act of breathing being nothing more than a habit he’s carried over from his deathbed— there’s a dread that coats his chest. Like oil, thick and slick, it completely drowns his organs. Suffocating his body while his mind and soul fight over what comes next. 

As the internal argument grows, his eyes always dart back and forth. One moment they’re locked onto your face, obsessively viewing each section and the next they’re anywhere but. In the forest, on the battlefield, back home tucked tightly inside the palm of his master’s hand —each night he travels everywhere, lingering in certain places while speeding through others, praying to all the Gods that never listened that he’ll make his way back to you. That just this once, instead of drifting off to sea, they’ll grant him the anchor he so desperately craves. The one that’s tethered to you and the solid ground beneath. 

“You still there, handsome?”

He is —sort of— depending on the moment, but instead of saying that he merely hums. Offering the bare minimum to the only person he’s ever met deserving of more. 

“Tired?”

“Incredibly.” 

You push your chest against his back and grip his shoulder, allowing your fingers to tighten around as you maneuver your lips to his cheek. “You should rest then,” you tell him afterward, but like always the words get pushed together. Morphing into something else entirely, causing him to narrow his eyes. 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he teases, watching you roll your eyes —feeling your nails tentatively dig into his flesh as a warning. 

“Shush. Don’t make me shove a sleeping potion down your throat.”

In response, he lets out a humorous huff. Then, his hands move to snake around your waist, pulling you on top of him. “Go ahead. I’m sure Gale would thoroughly enjoy such misuse of his wares.”

“My wares,” you correct, pressing an annoyed kiss to his chest, making sure to catch his skin between your teeth in the process as a warning. “I bought them from him fair and square.”  

Immediately, he grabs your chin and raises his brow. “Why the hells would you need a potion of sleep anyway? You already sleep like a corpse.”

You merely look away with a smile. All while rolling your eyes in that way that makes him feel like he’s young again. Freshly born into a world that hadn’t yet chewed and spat him out. One where the veins beneath his skin are full of warm blood, pumping through his system, fuelling the desire he knows he should have now that you’re lying against him, flesh against flesh. Beating heart against— 

Your lips press against his sternum and he swears they’re the most tender things he’s ever felt. Next to the way your fingers always seem to lace in his when you’re sitting by the campfire, they’re softer than any touch he’s ever experienced. Hungry yet restrained for his benefit, knowing it’s hard to feel like this. To experience the kindness of a pair of lips, worshipping a slab of skin so undeserving of such care. 

Each time your mouth makes contact, your eyes are always on him, asking for permission. Begging for consent. He’s never told you this but it’s the most selfless thing he’s ever experienced. Despite it’s obvious subtly, that look you give each time your mouth can’t help itself or your hands grow a bit too greedy, means more to him than life itself. More than power or revenge. More than freedom. Because that look requires worth. Value. An offering of submission he’s long since memorized. 

Each time it’s given to him, he has to compose himself. Otherwise, he might just shatter entirely —fall to the floor in a hundred tiny pieces not even you may be willing to put in the effort to fix.

Swallowing hard, he has to stare intently at your face, taking in the way you look up at him through your lashes. How you arch your brow just slightly upward, asking for forgiveness. Atoning for your sins in the form of restraint until he eventually nods, hearing your voice. 

You always ask out loud to make sure. An act that only further fuels his desire to feel you wrapped around him. To experience the warmth of your flesh tenderly pressing against the iciness of his. 

“Go ahead, darling,” he tells you, and for once, he means it. Truly. 

Instead of pretending like he wants this for the sake of a game, he accepts you in full. Watching you genuinely grin as you lean up to capture his lips, savouring the taste of his approval. Consuming the sound that absentmindedly passes through his lips as your hand lingers down, drifting past his chest and stomach until you’re pulling away to breathe. 

He can feel his mouth swell with need. The rest of his body following suit as you begin to descend, touching and kissing and biting —putting him through every sensation he’s gifted so many others. 

Leaning up to watch you work, he can see the excitement in your face each time he accidentally twitches beneath you. How the edges of your eyes crinkle with anticipation the moment you find yourself tucked between his legs, looming over him with heavy hands and breaths. 

“You’re beautiful,” you tell him then, and for once it means something. 

“You’re beautiful,” he repeats back, and for once it isn’t a lie. In fact, it’s the most honest he’s ever been, and secretly that scares him. So much so that he has to look down to see if you’re still there. 

Hoping that the sudden sincerity in his voice hasn’t scared you away, he can’t help but focus on the curve of your spine. How it starts low; your chest slightly leaning against one of his inner thighs.

Somehow despite the precarious position, you look perfect. Like a piece of art so carefully made, he can’t help but reach down and touch, revelling in the way you shudder beneath him. Sighing at the sudden desperation that erupts when you pull at the fabric against his waist. 

“Greedy, are we?” he jokes. 

Shooting him an embarrassed look, your hands continue to work his underwear down his legs —ignoring the way they catch at his knees and ankles. “I just really want to make you feel good.” 

The way you speak sends him over the precipice of ruin. Even before you discard the cloth and wrap your hand around the head of his cock, he’s already done for. Lost to the feeling of your digits. Fully enraptured by the heat of your breath as you lean forward and take him between your lips, coating him in spit. He has to close his eyes despite wanting nothing more than to look at you. Feeling the way your cheeks hollow out against him, he can already imagine the expressions of your efforts. All the time and care put in as you stroke him gently, maintaining the slowest pace he’s sure he’s ever experienced. 

It drives him mad with need. Bucking upwards each time your tongue drags across the tip, he instantly feels you push back. With a firm hand, you grip his hip and dig the pads into his flesh as yet another warning, telling him to behave. To just sit back and savour the pleasures he’s deserved rather than rushing through. 

He isn’t used to enjoying this. More often than not feeling like nothing more than a body designated for others enjoyment, he isn’t entirely sure how to properly relish your efforts. Or at least, in a way that doesn’t feel forced. Because he could do what you’re supposed to in this situation: touch you, moan for you, utter sweet nothings in your ear to further spur you on. He could do one of them or all of them, perhaps a mixture of two and still, it wouldn’t be enough to fully showcase the weight that fills his chest each time your mouth bobs up and down. How, as you begin to push him further and further into your mouth until he’s grazing the back of your throat, everything you do feels like the greatest gift he’s ever received. How maddening it is to feel loved like this even when he’s at his most unloveable.

Because that’s what you do to him. With the simplest of touches, you make him feel like him again. Like his mind hasn’t been shattered by the repeated slams of a sinner’s hand. As if his skin, etched by the knife of that same bastard, isn’t scarred. That instead it’s merely just skin. A grouping of muscle and tissue wrapping around his bones —a simple casing of flesh meant to be licked and sucked and pumped for all it’s worth until he’s gasping for air and uncontrollably shaking. 

And sometimes he feels like he’s earned it. During the easy days when he’s able to forget about his past and instead focus on the beauty that’s pressed against his leg, continuing to suck the come from his orgasm, it’s as if he’s on top of the world. Standing on a pillar of his past self’s hopes and dreams, he can easily look down at you with pride. Reaching down to touch your temple, he can feel the haze of your affections in full. The tremors of your possessive lips slowly slipping off, granting him a slick-coated smile that makes him almost faint. 

During those days he can smile back and pull you up into his chest, ignoring the ache between his thighs in your absence. Opting to hold you close. 

“Was that okay?” he hears you ask, and despite the question seeming almost juvenile, all he does is kiss your face. Starting at your forehead before moving to your nose and cheeks —eventually ending on your lips, he answers the question the only way he can. By showing you that, thanks to the care you foolishly offer, the days really are getting easier.

-

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @bluestuesday @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @ghostinvenus @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @lillifer @girlwiththepapatattoo @acelin-ginsberg @pinkuranium @catrad0rable @scarletrosesposts @qwnamidala @itsrosebabe @bunnyperi @queenofcarrotflowers-s @tatumadams20 @spkyxszn @chlort @f3v3rs @awkwardwookie @joy-the-reader @warm-milk-with-honey-blog @vertigocrime @iyis @wildpiper @pebblethestone @tillywasneverhere @bex-03 @revemiya @staticspouse @itzagothamcitysiren

(tags continued in comments)

[ahlyasimps]

Two is Better Than One [S.S.] & [O.G.]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow x GN Reader Summary: When you smell two unique scents in the Amortentia Potion, you wonder how you'll ever be able to decide between the two. But maybe you don't have to. A/N: Requested by nikathingz! I have two nostrils, one for each scent and I'll be putting them to good use. 

Professor Sharp stood at the front of the classroom, a twinkle in his eye as he surveyed the eager faces of his students. "Today, we will be learning about one of the most powerful potions in existence," he announced. "The Amortentia Potion."

Everyone murmured excitedly, leaning forward in their seats as Professor Sharp began to explain the properties of the potion. You were equally as excited, after all this was the famed "love potion". "As you all know, the Amortentia Potion is a powerful love potion that produces a scent unique to each person who smells it," he said. "It's important to remember that this potion is not to be taken lightly, and can be dangerous if misused."

You listened intently as Professor Sharp described the ingredients and the brewing process for the Amortentia Potion. Your curiosity growing, what would you smell you wondered? You spotted movement out of the corner in your eye and turned to look at one of your desk partners. Sebastian Sallow, notorious troublemaking student and an incorrigible flirt. The two of you and Ominis Gaunt who was seated to your left had been friends for years at this point. They're both handsome in their own way, Sebastian had this youthful charm to him while Ominis was more refined and cold.

You admired Sebastian's skill and determination, and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about another late night trip down to the library or recounted one of his many duelling feats. But there was something about Omnis that intrigued you too, he might have seemed colder at first but he was probably one of the funniest people you knew. Always ready with a quick retort whenever the two of you banter.

Professor Sharp's voice drew you out of your reverie. "I'll demonstrate to you all the brewing process." He said, carefully measuring out the ingredients and explaining the steps as he went. Everyone watched in awe as the potion began to take shape, a shimmering pearlescent liquid that everyone was leaning forward to get a better look at. You could hear people whispering behind your back, wondering if they would get a chance to smell it.

"Now, who would like to volunteer to smell the potion and describe the scent?" Professor Sharp asked.

Several hands shot up, and the professor selected a Hufflepuff student named Lenora. She approached the potion with trepidation, inhaling deeply as she took in the scent.

"It smells like…old books and metal," she said, her eyes widening in surprise. "And there's something else…I can't quite put my finger on it."

Professor Sharp nodded approvingly. "Very good, Lenora. 10 points for Hufflepuff. That's exactly the kind of response we're looking for. Remember, the scent of the Amortentia Potion is different for everyone, depending on what they find most attractive."

The rest of the class took turns smelling the potion, each one describing a unique and intoxicating aroma. The air was thick with excitement and anticipation. As Ominis was sat to your left, when the potion came around, he would be the first to have a go between the three of you. 

Finally, it was your turn. You took a deep breath and leaned over the potion, inhaling deeply. As you did, a rush of sensations flooded over you. You smelled the sweetness of cinnamon and vanilla, but there was something else too. A hint of musky scent that was familiar, yet foreign at the same time.

You looked around the room, trying to find the source of the scent. And that's when you saw him. Sebastian Sallow, sitting only to your right, his eyes fixed on you. Suddenly, everything made sense. You had always been drawn to him, and now you knew why. You were in love with him.

But as you turned to ask Ominis what he smelled, you caught a whiff of a new scent in the potion. It was his scent. While different from Sebastian's, it was equally as alluring. It was the scent of freshly cut wood, mixed with a subtle hint of cologne and was.. that peppermint? Your heart skipped a beat as you realized that you were in love with him too. But this was a rare case, normally people only smelled one scent belong to one person. You smelled two unique scents in that potion.

You looked back and forth between Sebastian and Ominis, feeling torn. How could you choose between them? They were both so different, yet both equally amazing in their own ways. Ominis was still staring off looking contemplative but as if sensing your eyes, he looked in your direction.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, his voice low.

You hesitated, unsure of what to say. How could you possibly explain what you had just realized? But before you could respond, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.

"Alright everyone, that's all for today. You're dismissed!" Professor Sharp said, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You gathered your things, still feeling a bit dazed from the experience. As you walked out of the classroom, Sebastian and Ominis fell into step beside you, both looking at you expectantly.

"So, what did you smell?" Sebastian asked, grinning.

You looked at him, then at Ominis, and finally back at Sebastian. "I smelled cinnamon, vanilla, freshly cut wood…and cologne," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Sebastian's grin widened. "Interesting. I smelled cologne and wood too, but also a hint of [your favourite shampoo scent]."

Ominis stayed quiet, but you all continued walking in silence for a few moments, he spoke up. "I smelled vanilla, cinnamon and [your favourite shampoo scent]."

Silence once again engulfed the three of you as you all took time to process this new information. You couldn't help but feel like everything had changed.

"I don't know what to do," you admitted, feeling lost. "I don't want to hurt either of you." How could you possibly choose between two people that you cared about so deeply? It didn't seem fair to either of them.

"What if... you don't have to?" Sebastian said cautiously. "I mean I'll just come out and address the troll in the room since none of us want to say it out loud. We all smelled each other in that potion, didn't we."

"We did." Ominis replied, understanding where Sebastian was going. He made a move as if to reach for your hand and you met him halfway before grabbing Sebastian's hand too.

"3 people dating each other? This is really going to piss off the Gaunts." You said feeling laughter bubble up inside you.

"An unexpected perk." said Ominis, his lips forming a small, but fond smile.

Sebastian look at you both with obvious affection in his eyes, glad you were all on board with the idea.

And as you felt the warmth from both the boys beside you, you knew this is where you belonged. Where the three of you belonged. In each other's arms.

[obsidian-pages777]

Circe in your Astrology Chart. Where is your Magic and Personal Power?

Given Circe's mythological background as a sorceress known for her ability to transform others with her potions and spells, astrologers may interpret Circe's placement in the birth chart as representing areas of life where the individual has a talent for wielding personal power, influencing others, or undergoing significant transformations.

Circe in the 1st House: Circe's presence in the 1st House could suggest that themes related to personal power, transformation, and magic are strongly emphasized in the individual's identity and self-expression. They may possess a natural charm or ability to influence others, but they might also need to be wary of the potential for manipulation or misuse of their power.

Circe in the 2nd House: In the 2nd House, Circe's influence might manifest in the individual's values, resources, and sense of self-worth. They may have a talent for creating abundance or transforming their material circumstances through their abilities or charisma. However, they may also need to guard against tendencies towards materialism or using their charms to gain material advantage at the expense of others.

Circe in the 3rd House: Circe here could indicate that the individual's communication style, intellectual pursuits, and immediate environment are infused with themes of magic, transformation, or personal power. They may have a gift for persuasion or storytelling, but they should be mindful of using their words to manipulate or deceive others.

Circe in the 4th House: In the 4th House, Circe's influence might be felt strongly within the individual's home, family, and emotional foundations. They may have a knack for creating a sense of enchantment or drama within their domestic sphere, but they may also need to be cautious of family dynamics that involve power struggles or manipulation.

Circe in the 5th House: Circe's placement in the 5th House could suggest that themes of creativity, self-expression, and romance are imbued with elements of magic or transformation for the individual. They may be drawn to artistic pursuits or experiences that allow them to tap into their personal power, but they should be mindful of the potential for romantic entanglements or creative endeavors that veer into manipulation or deceit.

Circe in the 6th House: In the 6th House, Circe's influence might manifest in the individual's work habits, health routines, and service to others. They may have a talent for infusing their daily tasks with a sense of enchantment or using their skills to heal and transform, but they should be cautious of tendencies towards escapism or using their abilities to avoid responsibility.

Circe in the 7th House: Circe's presence in the 7th House could suggest that themes of partnership, relationships, and one-on-one interactions are colored by elements of magic, transformation, or personal power. The individual may have a magnetic presence that draws others to them, but they should be aware of the potential for power struggles or manipulation within their relationships.

Circe in the 8th House: In the 8th House, Circe's influence might be felt strongly in the individual's intimate relationships, shared resources, and experiences of transformation. They may be drawn to exploring the mysteries of life, death, and rebirth, but they should be mindful of the potential for manipulation or control dynamics in their dealings with others.

Circe in the 9th House: Circe here could indicate that the individual's beliefs, philosophies, and higher learning are infused with themes of magic, transformation, or personal power. They may have a talent for expanding their horizons through travel or education, but they should be cautious of dogma or ideologies that lead to manipulation or deception.

Circe in the 10th House: In the 10th House, Circe's influence might manifest in the individual's career, public image, and sense of authority. They may have a knack for using their personal charm or talents to advance their professional goals, but they should be mindful of ethical considerations and the potential for abusing their power or influence.

Circe in the 11th House: Circe's placement in the 11th House could suggest that themes of friendship, social networks, and group affiliations are colored by elements of magic, transformation, or personal power. The individual may have a talent for bringing people together or creating a sense of camaraderie, but they should be cautious of group dynamics that involve manipulation or coercion.

Circe in the 12th House: In the 12th House, Circe's influence might be felt strongly in the individual's subconscious mind, spiritual practices, and experiences of solitude. They may have a deep connection to the mystical or unseen realms, but they should be mindful of tendencies towards escapism or self-deception.

Examples:

David Bowie (January 8, 1947): David Bowie was a legendary musician and performer known for his shape-shifting personas and innovative approach to music and fashion. Circe's placement in his chart could symbolize his transformative impact on the music industry and his ability to reinvent himself creatively throughout his career.

Charlize Theron (August 7, 1975): Charlize Theron is known for her mesmerizing presence on screen and her ability to transform into diverse roles. With Circe prominent in her birth chart, particularly in a prominent house or aspecting key personal planets, she might embody Circe's themes of personal power, transformation, and enchantment.

[drawlfoy]

benefits of journaling p.2

read p1 here!

pairing: diary!tom riddle x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you pick up an unassuming journal in diagon alley during an antiques sale without knowing that it's actually a part of a late dark lord's soul. sort of no voldy AU, set in the golden trio era where voldemort was defeated in the first war and thus harry has parents still.

warnings: recreational drug use, language, mild gore, snakes, a mouse gets eaten (thoughts and prayers), tom is a little bit gaslighty, the quality of my writing declines sharply

a/n: note that this is not finished at all, but i'm not planning on finishing this series unfortunately :/ i just have too much going on. this is unedited, unrevised, unoutlined, etc. so adjust your expectations accordingly. i just kind of want to get this out so i've given u guys at least *some* semblance of closure for this series. (UPDATE: now that i’ve written this i’ve changed my mind. i will be working on the next part. i forgot how much i love tom)

wc: 6.7k

enjoy !

This time you were unceremoniously dumped into a hard wooden library chair. You gasped as you braced yourself against the hard table in front of you, drawing in shaky breaths as you gathered your bearings. 

 A loud bang startled you into wrenching your gaze up. Tom had dropped a thick book with an ebony cover right next to you, nearly atop your hand. 

“Here you are,” he said pleasantly. “Happy reading.” 

“Do you think I can take this back with me into my world?” you asked. The cover was smooth under your fingertips. 

“Unlikely,” said Tom, dropping elegantly into the chair beside you. “You’ll have to read it here.”

You gulped. “Alright.” 

The papers were yellowed and fragile against your touch, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how old it was. 

“Any section you’d recommend starting with?” 

The book was around 700 pages with tiny, fine print.

“Perhaps the beginning.” Tom waved his wand and wordlessly summoned a stack of books, lifting one up and beginning to read for himself. 

You’d thought that you’d be less intimidated knowing that he was also doing something besides staring at you reading, but the back of your neck still prickled as you pulled the book to the edge of the table and began to dig in.

It was bizarre, reading next to a boy like this. The only one you ever studied with before had been Ishan, and he hardly counted. It was different with Tom. His presence hung in the air around you, a tension so tangible that it wasn’t unthinkable that you might feel something if you let your fingers sift through the space between you.

Despite all you’d told Tom, spending time around him made you unfathomably nervous. He was too good-looking to feel even remotely normal around him, and it was all you could do to hope that he didn't notice how much you blushed whenever he spoke to you.

The book he’d given you was dense and horrific, detailing magic so ugly and foul that you felt dirty just reading it. It covered topics you’d heard of before, like cases of the Imperius curse or the misuse of love potions or the nature of dark magic. 

But there was nothing pertaining to Tom’s situation.

“Can’t you at least point me towards a chapter? Or…a general section of the book?” you asked him. 

Tom lifted his gaze from his work, quirking a brow. “Having trouble?”

“This is going to take me forever to read.” You motioned at the width of the book. 

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing much more of you.” 

You couldn’t fight back the flush that spread across your face. “Well, this is an easily solvable problem. You really ought to just point me to the most relevant part.”

“And here I was, thinking I was doing you a favor,” said Tom. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment you thought you saw the slightest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. “Given that you’re such a glutton for knowledge and not at all singular in your academic pursuits.”

“That’s not—” You paused when you saw the amusement on his face. He’d been playing with you. “I’m flattered that you remembered. I suppose you’re right.”

And since you refused to let him win, you flipped the book back open and picked up right where you left off. 

It was really stupid to feel so light at the fact that Tom had remembered a sentence you’d said verbatim, because even if it implied that he’d thought about your last interaction enough to commit it to memory, it was hardly a surprise. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do in his empty version of Hogwarts except read books he’d probably already read many times before.

You snuck another look at him a few chapters later. A few waves had fallen across his face, dangling over his brow. For a moment, all you could do was keep yourself from reaching out to tuck them back into order, to know what it felt like against your fingers.

But that was a boundary you hadn’t crossed yet—if you even could. Who knew how the rules worked in this dimension?

You resolved to believe that you couldn’t touch him. That it was impossible. Because if you believed that, maybe you’d stop wanting to. 

“You never ended up telling me if you were a Parselmouth,” you realized aloud after you’d completed another gruesome section about ritualistic Dark Magic. 

You watched him closely but didn’t detect even a glimpse of surprise. 

“I didn’t,” he agreed smoothly. He didn’t look up from his page. 

“So? I gave you a secret. Many, actually.”

“I think you already know.” He turned the page, dark eyes darting across the next. 

“Well—” You paused, worrying your lip between your teeth as you realized that he was right. “What’s it like?” 

That was what prompted him to finally lean back in his chair and lift his gaze from the book to your eyes. 

“What’s it like?” 

Repeated back to you, it did sound very silly. 

“I mean,” you said, cheeks hot, “What do you even talk to snakes about? The weather? Whether or not there’s enough mice in the area?” 

“It’s unlikely to find snakes that do more than listen to me,” he said. “Most aren’t very good conversationalists.”

“A boy in my—our, I guess—year has a pet ball python,” you told him. “I just don’t understand why he’d want one. They don’t seem like very good companions.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have no emotional depth,” you said. You could feel your voice slipping into the tone you used when you tutored younger students, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You’d researched this extensively in the library after the Incident in third year when you were looking for any good academic reason for how terrified you were of Malfoy’s pet. “They have no limbic system, so everything for them is about survival. There’s no—no mutual concern or love like you’d get from something normal, like a cat or an owl. As their handler, you only matter because you’re what keeps them alive. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get over that.” 

“So all your companions have to love you?” Tom was resting his chin in his palm now as he looked at you. “They’re worthless otherwise?” 

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you responded. “But I like my company to see me as something more than an avenue for survival or a means to an end.”

“Their companionship isn’t enough?”

You blinked. Everyone else that you’d given your reptile spiel to had completely understood. You couldn’t quite figure out why Tom wasn’t agreeing. “It’s just nice to be cared about, don’t you think? And it’s…it’s nice to care about something without it feeling meaningless.” 

“I imagine that that’s true,” Tom said evenly. 

Something deep inside you twisted at the implications of his answer. You’d sort of forgotten that he grew up in a muggle orphanage and likely didn’t have any sort of emotional closeness during his early childhood. But he was so pretty and sharp and witty that it was hard to imagine no one caring for him. Perhaps that had changed upon his admission to Hogwarts. He had said that witches and wizards found him charming. You could attest. 

~

You passed the following Potions lab with flying colors and a perfectly brewed Draught of Peace that made even Snape nod approvingly. It was thrilling. It was incredible. All you wanted to do was get Tom’s diary out right then and there and document it as it happened—as if he were right beside you—but you refrained. You told him that night instead, when you were back again for another reading session.

You were falling into his world on a daily basis, devouring as much of the book as you could without forgoing any conversations with Tom. He’d been impressed to hear about your potion in his own very Tom way. He didn’t tell you outright that he thought that you were brilliant or smart or incredible. Instead he seemed entirely unsurprised, like he thought you capable of nothing less. Somehow that made you glow more than any explicitly stated praise that he could’ve offered.

When you weren’t reading, you were walking around the grounds with Tom and just talking, much like you used to write to him. At first you’d been nervous and uncomfortable with being as open with him in person as you’d been in writing, but Tom had a funny way of making you feel seen. Despite his slight aloofness and obvious air of pretension, he listened to you and appeared genuinely interested in your life by way of remembering things you’d said months ago.

Like when you’d told him off-handedly that it was raining back in the real world and that it was your favorite weather, and ever since the Hogwarts you were transported to was constantly overcast with torrential downpours unless you two were walking outside. 

You still never dared to touch him, though. That was a line that you refused to cross. Tom seemed to hold the same opinion, keeping a wide berth around you whenever tactile contact was in the realm of possibility. 

“How did you become a Parselmouth?” you asked him one day while you were taking a break from reading and walking through the Transfiguration Courtyard. 

His eyes narrowed as he turned to you. “Do they not teach you about Parseltongue in Defense Against the Dark Arts anymore?”

“No,” you said. “I’ve only ever heard about it by reading a book from the Restricted Section. It was very vague. All I know about it is that it’s the language of reptiles.” 

“No one becomes a Parselmouth.” Tom turned his attention back to the walking path, adjusting the cuff of his robes for just a second. “All Parselmouths are born. It’s entirely hereditary.” 

“So did you have to learn it?” you asked. Your interest was piqued—you’d never heard of a language that was passed through genes.

Tom shook his head. That one rogue strand of black hair had escaped its orderly wave, just like how you remembered him from his yearbook picture. “I’ve never had to think about it. I’ve just always known how to say what I want.” 

“Do you think that you could…” Your voice trailed off and you swallowed thickly. You weren’t even sure why you’d started asking him that question. Of course he couldn’t teach you Parseltongue. You didn’t even really want to know it, either. You’d never use it. But you hated being told that you didn’t know something. That you couldn't know something. 

“We can give it a try,” he offered. 

You dared to glance back up at him and found him already looking at you. “How did you know what I was going to say?”

“I don’t know.” He appeared to be making a valiant effort to quell a grin. “I suppose it has something to do with your approach to acquiring knowledge. One could almost call it…gluttonous in nature.”

You sent him a glare.

Tom shrugged, properly smiling now for the first time in front of you. He had shallow, almost perfectly circular dimples. “Anyway. I’ve never taught anyone before. I actually don’t believe it to be possible, but we might as well give it a go.”

“You’ve never tried?” you asked. “None of your friends at Hogwarts asked you to teach them?”

“No,” he said. “No one knew I was a Parselmouth. I kept that a secret.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again. “I enjoy my privacy. Right, then. Serpensortia.”

A large, hissing snake appeared at your feet, thrashing about in the grass as it unhappily acclimated to its new environment. 

You yelped, leaping nearly a foot in the air. Tom simply stood still, watching you with an amused expression on his features.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth, refusing to let your eyes move from the wriggling snake in front of you. “I’m just—surprised.”

“It won’t hurt you.” His voice was low, gentle. “Don’t be afraid.” 

“I’m not,” you said, but the slight wobble in your tone betrayed you. “Just—get on with the lesson, alright?” 

He stood silently, his head tilted in concentration.

“What’s it saying?” you found yourself asking. “Is it—I dunno—threatening my life or something?”

Tom sent you a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s scared of you.”

“Really?” A spark of smugness lit up within you.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“It’s expressing how upset it is at how suddenly I’ve conjured it. Apparently we’ve interrupted the start of its meal.”

“What do I say if I want to apologize?” 

 He appeared to consider your request for just a moment before opening his mouth and making a hissing noise that you didn’t think you could replicate if you had a thousand years. 

The snake immediately quieted and stopped its thrashing, its tiny head lifting from the ground to regard Tom curiously. 

He looked back at you, expectant.

“Again, please,” you said. “A little slower this time. I didn’t quite catch it.” 

He obliged, going through each syllable separately.

You felt very much like you were back in muggle school before you’d found out you were a witch, being forced to read out a passage in French. The sounds that came out of you were clumsy and not at all what you thought they’d sound like.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you accused. “For the record, I know it was bad.” 

He didn’t address it beyond just the slight upward twist of his lip before he repeated it again, syllable by syllable.

You tried once again with the same outcome. 

“Your tongue should be a little behind your teeth,” he said. “You have yours too far back on the roof of your mouth, which is why you’re losing control. Try again.” 

This time, it came out much cleaner. The snake took notice of you for the first time, its dark scales glistening under the cloudy sky. It hissed something back. Tom’s mouth split into a grin.

“What did it say?”

“It wants to know if you have any food,” he told you. 

“What’s ‘yes’?”

Saying yes in Parseltongue was much easier than saying sorry—it only took two syllables, both of which were made up of sounds that you were pretty sure you had in the English language.

The snake was giving its full attention to you now. Its forked tongue stuck out for just a second. 

Gulping, you accioed a small stone into your palm and cast a quick charm to transfigure it into a mouse—something that you’d learned years ago. 

You set it on the ground and watched the snake lunge.

“Gross,” you said under your breath, wincing as it began to swallow it whole, its body twisting and contorting as it shoved it down.  “I—I think I’m done with the lesson now. I’ve learned enough.” 

“You really didn’t need to feed it,” Tom pointed out helpfully. 

“Yeah. I know that now. I just felt like it deserved something for the trouble.”

Once the snake had succeeded and the only evidence of the mouse was a bulge in the adder’s scales a little past its head, it lifted its head again to meet your eyes, its tongue slithering out as it made a sharp hiss. 

“What’s it saying?”

“It thanked you,” said Tom. He was giving you that look again—like he was reconsidering you. 

“And if I wanted to say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“I thought you said you were done with the lesson.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Consider this my last request. I’d like to be polite.” 

Tom let out a sigh, then made a sound that glided from a long S to a few sharp, pointed consonants. 

You clumsily mimicked him, feeling like your tongue was much larger than you’d ever bothered to notice. 

To your surprise, the adder slithered towards you, dragging itself onto the rock of the courtyard and in front of you. It coiled around your shin, slowly pulling itself up your body.

“Tom!” you whisper-screamed through your teeth.

“It’s alright,” he said. 

“Do something!” 

The snake continued up your leg, looping once around your waist as it continued its ascent up to your shoulder. It was cold and oddly heavy, its scales clammy against the bare skin of your neck.

For one terrifying moment, you thought that it was going to coil around your neck and squeeze until you asphyxiated. Your breath caught in your throat as it came around behind your neck, both ends dangling around your neck as you were paralyzed with fear. 

Then it did the most peculiar thing; it stopped, just hanging in a loose hold around the base of your neck, its face nestled into the collar of your robes. 

“What’s it doing?” you whispered. You tried to ignore the lump in its body that you could feel at the side of your neck.

“It’s resting on you,” said Tom. 

“Why?”

“Because it likes you.” 

You stared at him, floored. “It does not.”

He hissed something to the snake around your neck. It responded with something you couldn’t even begin to understand. 

“It just told me so,” said Tom.

“How do I know you didn’t just make that up?” you said, mentally crossing your arms across your chest but refraining since a snake was taking residence there at present. 

“You don’t trust me?” asked Tom. “I’m hurt.” 

Before you could respond, you felt the slow, languid movement of the adder as it lifted its head from your collar. Without thinking, you offered it your hand, watching in quiet fascination as it slithered around your wrist.

“Hi,” you said shyly, like you’d speak to a nervous cat.

“It won’t understand—”

“I’m aware, Tom,” you interrupted, sending him a look before turning back to your wrist. “We’re bonding. Bugger off.” 

He held his hands up in exasperation. “Bonding? Are you going to take him back to the real world as your familiar?” 

For a moment, you actually considered this.

“Because that’s a terrible idea,” continued Tom, crushing your dream right then and there. “Adders are venomous. Once you don’t have me around, you won’t be able to communicate with it. It’ll probably bite someone.” 

“Then perhaps we should start brainstorming ways to bring you back,” you said. “For safe snake handling, if nothing else.” 

Tom didn’t say anything to this; instead, he reached out and gently unwound the adder from your wrist, his skin not brushing yours once. 

“Surely there’s someone wondering where you are,” he said once the snake had been deposited on the ground. “You’ve been here longer than usual.” 

“Do you not want to get out of here?” you asked, frowning. “It hardly seems like you’re trying.” 

“I’ve been doing research when you’re not around,” he said simply. “I think I just need to theorize for a bit longer—figure out the best course of action.” 

“The process would be sped up significantly if you let me help.”

“I won’t ask that of you. It’s very complicated magic—” He paused for just a moment, noticing the derisive curl of your mouth. “—Not that I think you incapable, of course. But you’ve better things to do. It would distract from your exams, and I tend to work better alone in this stage of research.”

“Oh,” you said, hoping the hurt wasn’t showing on your face. It made sense that he would want to work on this alone. You understood not wanting to have to explain things to people when you could already be going down a rabbithole that you’d deemed important. Plus, your current Tom rendez-vous schedule was eating enough time as it was. But it still stung. 

“You’ll be the first to know if I stumble across anything conclusive,” said Tom.

You snorted. “Obviously.”

“Well—” Tom stopped himself. You thought for a moment that you detected the slightest flush across his pale skin, but that was likely because of the chill outside. “That was more clever in my head. Sorry.”

“I imagine that being in solitary confinement for half a century might addle your mind a bit,” you offered diplomatically.

“My mind is not addled.”

“I was very graciously giving you an easy out.” 

“Someone is probably wondering where you are,” he repeated, his jaw tense. “So I’m going to send you back now.”

Without giving you another chance to argue, you were catapulted back into your desk chair.

~

“You look like you could do with a night out,” Lucy observed as she watched you storm into your dorm and send your satchel flying through the air to land messily on your bed.

“Casting my first and last Unforgivable on McLaggen would be preferable,” you said through gritted teeth. 

He’d been your partner today in Arithmancy to work on a partner problem set. It apparently wasn’t enough for him to be dreadfully stupid and slow—he had to be an absolute chauvinistic arse about it. Whenever you attempted to correct him, he’d look at you with so much amusement that it made your head pound.

He didn’t even need to say anything—the look in his eyes told you that he didn’t even see you as a person. 

The last person to treat you so dismissively had been Pansy Parkinson, but at least she’d been smart. And a witch. McLaggen dripped with conceit and smugness and was disgusting towards the most pureblooded witch on a good day. 

It’d been nearly 3 hours and your blood was still boiling. 

“Well, I can’t arrange that,” said Lucy. “But I can tell you that Hufflepuff is throwing tonight. McLaggen probably won’t come—Ernie hates him, and he’s the one who put it all together.” 

You considered this, looking longingly once at the bag on your bed. You hadn’t done anything with your friends in forever; nearly all the time you had was spent either studying or with Tom. 

The Hufflepuffs were always gracious hosts, too. The last time you’d gone, they’d given you something to smoke that had smelled like a meadow on a sunny spring day and made you feel like you were floating. You’d giggled all night with Lucy, clinging to one another. You’d gone on some tirade about how much you loved her, touching her face and tearing up as you said something about how you didn’t know what you’d be without her. Lucy’d beamed back at you, her face wide open with raw gratitude. 

It had been sappy, but it had been fun and one of the few positive memories you had from the disaster that had been O.W.Ls season. 

“You know what,” you said slowly, watching Lucy’s face light up, “I think that’s just what I need.” 

Tom could wait. 

Lucy squealed and got right to work. In seconds, all the clothes you’d brought from home were strewn across her bed as she scrutinized each one. 

“I thought this was just going to be, like, a chill thing,” you said. 

Lucy picked up a sequined top, held it up to your chest, and wrinkled her nose. “Too loud.” 

“Lucy—”

“I never get to go out with you,” she interrupted, yanking a black slip dress from the pile that caught the warm overhead light. “Thoughts? We could do some fun earrings or something to dress it up.” 

“Are we not just going to sit in a circle and smoke again? This feels a little overkill.” 

“Well, it’s not,” said Lucy, throwing it at you. “This is hardly a ballgown. Plus, this is your annual outing. Dress to impress.” 

You rolled your eyes and slipped the straps off the hanger, throwing it over your shoulder as you turned around to change.

Lucy continued her rampage, ooh-ing and aah-ing upon seeing it on you and immediately cornering you with a scary looking brush.

“For your eyes,” she said, like that made you feel any better. 

“What?” 

“Close them.” 

You squeezed them shut, willing this to be over. You’d had your own experience with muggle makeup, which was tame and not at all exciting. The Wizarding World always had interesting takes on beauty tools, like charmed kohl that could turn your entire eye black if you weren’t careful enough. 

Something cool and wet swiped across the corner of your eyes. Lucy mumbled something under her breath, and there was a slight ruffling at the end of your lashes, like a light breeze had swept through them. 

“Open.”

You blinked, your lashes feeling a little heavier. 

“Pretty,” said Lucy, nodding seriously. “Hang on. Do you have a lip color preference?” 

You stared. A lip color preference? “Er—whatever you think makes the most sense with my undertones.” 

“You would say that,” Lucy replied, already holding a wand of lip gloss. “Put this on.” 

When you turned to look into the mirror she was holding out, you nearly started at your reflection. Lucy had done something insane with your lashes, curling them up and adding length that didn’t look too obvious. That weird tool she’d used on your eye had created a sharp, clean line that followed the contour of your lashline and licked out at the end. 

You looked really pretty. Not quite Tom Riddle level pretty, but pretty nonetheless.

“Thanks,” you said, turning back to Lucy after you’d applied the gloss she’d given you. It smelled faintly of something that you couldn’t quite place—like old parchment and the memory of walking through the library in the middle of the night. It was the strangest scent you’d ever encountered in a lip product. 

Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs did not disappoint. They’d bribed house elves into bringing an entire spread of food that was fragrant and under a constant stasis spell to keep an optimal temperature. You spent the evening chatting with your Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends and feasting on ripe slices of pineapple and bites of strawberry that stained your already glossy mouth a vibrant pink. 

Then Hannah Abbott reached into her pocket and pulled out a stash of corked bottles. 

“Party Potions,” said Lucy in wonder as you both stared at the swirling liquids.

You’d heard of them before but had never personally had one. You weren’t entirely sure what they did, in all honesty, and that stressed you out enough to keep you from giving them a whirl. 

They were different vibrant colors—one an opalescent pink, one a vibrant orange, one a blood red, one a deep, midnight blue that reminded you of your house colors. 

“Anyone want one?” asked Hannah, motioning to her pile. Terry Boot raised a hand and plucked the orange one from the table, uncorking it and downing it in one go. 

“What do the different colors mean?” you asked. The longer you looked at them, the more you were mesmerized. 

“I don’t remember,” admitted Hannah. “Nothing crazy, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think,” you repeated.

“Just because I don’t remember why I bought each color doesn’t mean that I would’ve purposefully bought something that did bad things,” Hannah told you. “Here. Take one. It’ll help you relax.” 

The midnight blue potion sat on the fingers of Hannah’s outstretched palm. 

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

“I promise it’s nothing too intense,” said Hannah. “You’ve smoked before, right? I’ve had one and it was honestly just like getting crossed. You’ll be fine.”

At the mention of smoking, common sense flew out the window. The last time you’d been offered an illicit substance in the Hufflepuff Common Room, things went really well. Who were you to deny that again?

“If you’re sure it’s alright for me to have it,” you said. The bottle pulled easily from Hannah’s hand and into your grip.

“Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” Lucy was grinning at you widely. 

Up close, the midnight blue wasn’t solid—there were specks of silver in there, like thousands of stars littered across the night sky. It was stunning. You felt almost bad uncorking it and downing it, but you didn’t give yourself a chance to second-guess.

It tasted like lavender and honey and something burnt that was horribly gross but faded away with time and went down like water. 

“You didn’t save anything for me?”

“Sorry, Luce,” you said, swiping the back of your hand across your lips. 

You weren’t feeling anything yet. Or were you? Was this how you normally felt? The ceiling of the Hufflepuff common room definitely didn’t move, right? And Lucy typically wasn’t outlined in a fuschia pink. That you were sure of.

“Whoa,” you said dumbly.

“I think Y/N’s feeling something!” called out Hannah. “What’s it like?”

You stared at her, watching as a warm brown that reminded you of English Breakfast tea with milk stirred in surrounded Hannah’s edges. 

“You’re such a good person,” you said, feeling tears prick at your eyes, because Hannah Abbott truly was. “And so are you.” 

You turned to Lucy, trying your best not to cry. “Did you know that you’re the color pink?”

Lucy nodded gravely. Later she would laugh about this, but not now. “That’s very kind of you.” 

You spent the evening in a daze, staring open mouthed at your friends as you saw different colors swirl around, some overlapping and blending. 

It was beautiful. Then the sadness kicked in. It wasn’t clear to you exactly what caused your sudden rush of melancholy—but all of a sudden you were staring at the happy people dancing around you, the colors blurring and mingling, and all you could think about was Tom. Tom, who was all alone. Tom, who might never get out. Tom, who was destined for an eternity of loneliness. 

“I’m going to go back,” you said to Lucy, tugging at her sleeve to get her attention. 

She frowned. “Aw, why? Are you not feeling well?” 

“The potion Hannah gave me is making me feel really tired,” you said. It wasn’t a lie. Your eyelids were heavy and the thought of curling up under your blankets sounded better than anything. Well, almost anything. There was something you needed to take care of first. 

“Booooo,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes. “Fine. Do you want me to walk you back?” 

“No! I mean—” You gulped. “You’re having fun. I’ll be fine getting back. I think Ron’s on the rounds in our part of the castle. He’s not going to write me up.” 

“You sure? I’d be happy to take you.”

You started pushing her in the direction of the other party-goers. “Very. Go have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.” 

By the time you’d burst back into your room, your chest was heaving with exertion from sprinting up the stairs as you wrenched open your desk drawer and pulled out the journal.

Tom you wrote. Can you let me in? 

He didn’t answer; instead, you were falling through space and into the warmly lit Hogwarts library from the 40s. 

“Tom!” You couldn’t stop the grin that came across your face. 

“Oh—hello.” Like always, Tom was standing tidily a polite distance from you, his hands tucked neatly behind his back. Unlike always, he was staring at you like you’d just shot his dog. 

“Is everything okay?” The potion you’d taken was definitely still in effect. An inky blackness was hanging around his shoulders—a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin. 

He swallowed, his eyes darting up and down. “Yes. Sorry. You just look a bit different.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I was at a party. Did you know you have a black aura?”

“What?”

“Your aura is black,” you repeated, slower this time. 

He just stared at you. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, averting your eyes. Maybe he was insecure about having such a lame aura color. It had been a bit rude of you to point that out all willy-nilly. 

“I’m not—” Tom stopped, pressing his lips together before continuing. “I’m sorry, is there a reason why you asked to see me? Surely you don’t mean to read after you’ve just stepped out of a party?”

“Oh,” you said, and suddenly you remembered why you’d come. A somberness dropped over you. “I was just…I was having so much fun tonight. And then I thought about you.”

He stayed silent.

“What’s going to happen to you if I can’t get you out?” Your voice wobbled as tears pricked at the back of your eyes. “Are you just going to be stuck here forever? Won’t you be lonely?” 

When he didn’t immediately answer and opted to stare at you in shock instead, you continued.

“Because I keep thinking about what might happen if something happens to me or I lose your journal,” you confessed, now ardently choking back tears. “I really worry about you. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t help you leave.” 

“Are you…” His eyes darted up and down you again. “Drunk?”

“Hardly,” you said, swiping angrily under your eyes as you collapsed onto the loveseat that you so often read on, pulling your knees to your chest. Then, quieter: “It was just some potion a friend gave me.”

“If you’re so worried about something happening to you so that I’m left alone…” You weren’t looking up at him, but the increase in volume told you he was coming nearer. “...May I suggest not taking mystery potions?”

Before you could issue a retort, the loveseat cushion shifted to accommodate the weight of a second person, sending you toppling over to the other side. 

Right onto Tom. 

Your hands went flying to the opposite armrest, fingers digging into the worn blue velvet with a death grip as you righted yourself, pushing your knees from where they’d landed sprawled in Tom’s lap.

Which you could actually touch, by the way. The implications began rolling in once you were back on your respective side. He’d been solid and warm and completely void of any attributes that may suggest he was a ghost. Which meant that it was probably possible to…

No. No. You weren’t going to think about that right now. 

“I didn’t realize I could touch you,” you heard yourself saying, staring at him in wonder. “I just assumed I couldn’t.” 

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.” 

And for purely scientific purposes (no reputable academic came to a firm conclusion based off of a single trial), you reached your hand out and experimentally poked his forearm again. 

“Wow,” you said.

“Will you stop that?” said Tom. 

“Yes.” You retracted your hand and placed it firmly in your lap. Then, because your manners hadn’t completely abandoned you: “Sorry. That was rude of me. I just sort of assumed that since you’re—well, whatever you are—it’d be like touching a ghost or something.” 

“Whatever I am,” he echoed, looking off into the distance with what you could only describe as a very harrowed expression. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, but you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. 

Instead of responding, he buried his face in his hands, heaving a heavy sigh as his fingers tangled into his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

He just shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hands once before he let them fall. 

“Er, all right then,” you said. “Would you like me to leave? I’m sorry for bothering you.” 

“You really shouldn’t worry about me,” he finally said. The awkward, slight pauses between his words gave you a sneaking suspicion that he was choosing his words very carefully. 

“Of course I’m going to worry about you.” Now that you knew that you could touch him, nothing stopped you from reaching out to flick his arm indignantly. “We’re friends, and I like to think that my friends would worry about me if I was stuck in journal jail. Or whatever this is.” 

He was still staring at where you’d touched his arm. 

“...Unless you don’t want to be friends,” you added, suddenly feeling a little silly for jumping to such rash conclusions. “Which I’d understand. I can give your journal to someone else. A Slytherin, maybe. Someone a little more your speed.” 

You decided to blame the potion for the obvious hurt that had seeped into your voice at the prospect that there was someone else who was better suited as his confidant. 

“I don’t want you to do that,” Tom eventually said. He wouldn’t meet your eyes. 

“Then what do you want?” The strength in your words surprised even you. “I don’t understand you. You tell me you want to get out, but you still won’t let me help you. You let me talk to you and come visit you and read with you, but then you expect me not to care. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t make any sense.” 

“It’s more complicated than that,” said Tom, thumbing the ring he always wore around his finger. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“So help me understand!” Your voice rose sharply, echoing off the walls of the empty library. 

Tom finally turned to you, his face split open with something so uncharacteristically raw and open that it takes everything within you not to gasp. 

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” He drew in long breath. “Not right now. I need more time.”

“Oh, a half century wasn’t enough?” you retorted. “Need another?” 

“It doesn’t work like that,” said Tom, an edge of franticness in the way he spun the ring around his finger quicker. “I never thought that I’d—I didn’t think I’d ever be found. I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

You didn’t know what to say to this. Instead, you sat there with your hands clasped tightly in your lap, eyes set on the floor, your mind racing with all the implications of everything you’d learned.

A moment passed. Then another. Once it appeared clear that you weren’t going to say anything back, Tom spoke up again. “You’re angry with me. I understand that this is…” He paused. “Unconventional. But I am grateful you’ve found me, and I’d really rather prefer that you don’t give me away to another student.”

You were just about to respond when—

“But of course I’d understand if you did,” he added hastily. 

It was the most unnervingly emotional speech you’d ever seen come from Tom, ever the stoic, and under the influence of the potion that Hannah had given you, it was almost enough to make you give in and move on. But not quite.

“You said ‘supposed to’.” Your eyes still didn’t move from where they were trained on the scuffed wooden floor of the library. “You said ‘I wasn’t supposed to be found.’”

“That’s right.”

You turned to look at him, inky black aura spilling over his equally dark hair. “‘Supposed to’. Like you knew this was going to happen. Like this wasn’t an accident.”

And the change you saw in him was so miniscule that if you hadn’t been spending enough time studying his face, you might not have noticed it. But you had, and the slight dilation of his pupils and twitch of his jaw was enough to betray his panic. 

Then his mouth split into a smile and his face smoothed over, his eyebrows furrowed with just the right amount of concern. The shift was startling, like he’d slipped on a mask. “Of course this was an accident. Do you really think that I’d choose to be stuck here for eternity?”

“That’s—” You paused, shaking your head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.” 

“I wouldn’t,” he pressed, and this time his arm came up to drape over the back of the couch. You tried your best not to think about how you could feel warmth radiating from it, how if you tilted your head back, you might brush against it. “Are you sure you’re well?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll send you back,” he said, a polite smile set on his lips. “You should really get some rest.”

And for the first time since you’d first discovered the journal, you fell asleep feeling a little bit afraid of Tom Riddle.

[novelizt]

EXPECTO PATRONUM (MASTERLIST) ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

GENRE ➺ HOGWARTS AU [slytherin! lockwood x fem! ravenclaw! reader]. rivals to lovers (and a dash of 'everyone knows but them'). fluff and angst.

WC ➺ 30.8k

SYNOPSIS ➺ after a six year rivalry with lockwood, your patronus suddenly matches his when it didn't before.

DISCLAIMER ➺ reader is implied to be shorter than lockwood. appearance of harry potter next gen characters and a few ocs. lockwood calls reader 'sweetheart' and 'my dearest vexation' (+'my girl'). prefect! lockwood. jessica lockwood lives!! (i also headcanon lockwood being a cunning-flirt, so lockwood might read slightly ooc.)

WARNINGS ➺ strained family dynamics (for reader), love potions (misuse of magic), dragons on the loose, wizard duels, boggarts, and a lot of unpolished dialogue. QUILL KIPPS. blood and injuries (tending to wounds). mentions of kids and marriage at the end.

SWEETHEARTS ➺ @kiyasoup @toddandersondupe @locknco @onecojg @avdiobliss @mentallyillsodapop @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @bella-rose29 @wordsarelife

NOTES ➺ it's been a long time coming. i got lost in the sauce. can you tell? this was originally a oneshot but tumblr's block limit was exceeded lol we can still pretend it's a oneshot!

i hope this finds you when you need it. this is for the girlies who are forever spellbound by london boys 💙 happy nanowrimo !!

CARDINAL STORYLINE — COMPLETE!

PART ONE ! 13.7k

PART TWO ! 17.4k

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[realpokemon]

realpokemon drinking game:

if you see an ask mentioning driftloon and ends with rodney telling people to train their pokémon, drink.

if you see an ask about pokémon item misuse, drink. (do not drink a potion)

if you see an ask that dunks on rodney, drink.

if you see an ask directed to bart, drink.

if you see an ask that's literally an anonymous crime confession, down the entire bottle.

they are going to have to wheel me to the fucking pokémon center because i won't survive the trip to the hospital

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

March 28th

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1. Hi... Is there any wangxian fic in the potter world that you can recommend? I'm open to any fic, tags, dynamics etc.

Thanks in advance for answering my question. ☺️💕

are you asking for fics where characters make clay things or a Harry Potter fusion/crossover?

love potion no. 9 by ria_green (G, 2k, WangXian, Hogwarts, Oblivious WWX, Fluff and Humor, Amortentia, Patronus, Love Confessions, Fusion, POV Outsider, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions)

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2. hi do u hv outsider pov fics for wangxian like pls recommend all the ones u hv ty

the world is but a stage for the two of us by MandMandM (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Shameless WangXian)

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 46k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death)

he sang about the stars by nenyanaryavilya (M, 29k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Brotherhood, Growing Up Together, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death)

Su She Eats his Heart Out by KizuKatana (T, 16k, wangxian, modern, Guest-starring the belated but incendiary sexual awakening of LWJ, 3rd person pov, SS is hyperfixated on LWJ, LWJ does his best to pretend SS doesn't exist, WWX isn't even pretending he really doesn't notice SS exists, MM exists and is awesome, implied offscreen wangxian sex)

rerun from the outside by Eicas (T, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time travel, Crack, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, JC POV)

🔒 born under unlucky stars by RoseThorne (M, 1k, JZX & MXY, JZX & QS, WN & WQ, WWX & WQ, WangXian, Canonical Character Death, Ghosts, Souls, Implied/Referenced Sex, Brotherly Love, Anger, Spells & Enchantments, MXY Deserves Better, Revenge, POV MXY)

love - all by vastlyunknown (M, 18k, WangXian, Modern AU, Tennis AU, Time jumps)

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3. Fo you have ploty fics? Fics where the romance or relationship part isn't much in the front just a background thing in the story. I'm looking for fics where plot is given more priority. No modern au please.

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 258k, wangxian, CSSR/WCZ, WIP, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives AU, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX's Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings) Wei Ying & Lan Zhan's relationship develops as the story goes on (it hasn't been a huge focus yet) but it's plot-driven with case studies.

Bitter Plants Bearing Sweet Fruit by Kryal (T, 83k, wangxian, canon-typical horror elements, Worldbuilding, Desert, Misuse of Historic Setting, Original Character Death(s), Case Fic, aftermath of canon, Established Relationship, Nothing Explicit But Shameless Innuendo)

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4. Fo you have any fics where wwx has a personality like he has in twelve moons and a fortnight by Stiltonbasket ? People love making wwx shameless in their fics , but they make him shameless by today's time standards, which is pretty annoying and actually qi divination inducing, but in the novel wwx was shameless by the then time standards.

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5. hi an itmf request for fics similar to stolen fruit is the sweetest by mondengel. thank you so much for your hard work 🫡

A Baby Dragon’s Guide To Seducing Your Huli Jing by sweetlolixo (M, 102k, wangxian, fantasy au, dragon LWJ, fox WWX, younger LWJ, older WWX, fluff, humor, happy ending) Im not sure what theyre looking for in terms of similar but heres a few w a shameless Lan Zhan

Beautiful mess, a colourful wreck by covalentbonds (Not rated, 12k, wangxian, modern, rule 63, fluff & humor, mild smut, childhood friends, first meetings, evil vending machines)

a quest (for kisses) by kyoongs (G, 4k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Humor, WWX being shameless WWX we love it, a little angst in the middle but squint and it's fluff again, kisses!! lots of kisses!!, wangxian are MARRIED and they have a SON)

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6. fic recs on wwx getting his old body back? thank uu

Wei Wuxian keeps / gets his OG body 

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7. favourite bottom wwx fics? thanks ❤️

Closer than my hands have been by Spodumene (E, 5k, wangxian, post-canon, established relationship, rough sex, dom/sub undertones, consensual non-con, hair-pulling, face-fucking, bondage, spanking, cock slapping, jealousy, top drop)

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8. Hey there! I was wondering if you had recs for fics similar to Harmony between a qin and se by Alaceron. Ta!

Hey! I was #8 on the March 28th ITMF. The recs were wonderful! To clarify since you asked, I was looking for anything in with similar flavour, I did not think historical au, het wangxian, or non cultivation au were the core themes 🤦‍♂️

I was going by the feel of it, which is a tricky way to find fics. Must say you were spot on with Stilton's WIP. Thanks again!

does op mean like, historical setting with no cultivation or like.... het!wangxian? Wwx being successfully scheming? Anyways, here's a few I THINK op might like

When the Hills Are All Flat, and the Rivers Run Dry by stiltonbasket (G, 5k, WIP, WangXian, Historical, Royalty, Female WWX, Emperor LWJ, Identity Shenanigans, Parents LWJ and WWX, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Love at First Sight, Happy Ending, Female LXC, Gender Changes)

The Lost Prince by hmmmmmmmm (E, 40k, WangXian, Royalty, Historical, No Powers, Bottom LWJ, Slow Burn, Prince WWX, Oral Sex)

❤️ nightingale Series by Moominmammashandbag (M, 62k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, LQY/JC, Pseudo-History, No power AU, Empires, Discussion Of Murder, aftermath of war, prisoner exchange, Grief/Mourning, LWJ POV, Angst, Emperor JZX, Imperial Advisor LWJ, widower LWJ, JYL is the Empress the world deserves, Happy Ending, POW WWX, Reunions, Fluff, Smut, Dysfunctional Family, Poetry, BAMF LWJ, emotional support goat, poetry as a weapon, Injury Recovery, Rehabilitation, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Body Image, Self-Esteem Issues, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Childbirth)

~*~

9. hii for itmf do you have any recs for fanfics from lan jingyi pov? could be with jingyi/jin ling but not necessarily just not with any other junior ship (smth like best friends forever by varnes)

tysm<;3 @r3n-vy

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Mojo’s bookmark)

🔒 blue flies buzzing by RoseThorne (T, 2k, JL & LJY & OYZZ & LSZ, JC & WWX, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & LXC, Gossip, Rumors, Mentioned Wen Remnants, Sect Leader Yao Bashing, JC & WWX Reconciliation, NHS is a Little Shit, POV LJY, POV Third Person, Threats, Justice, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, LWJ is LSZ’s Parent, LJY Being LJY, Podfic Welcome)

~*~

10. Hi, i've seen how you help people find fanfictions and all, i was wondering if you can help me find a good Wangxian personality swap Au, if your up to it? Thank you

there is a fic where Lan Zhan was named Wei Wuxian, and Wei Ying was named Lan Zhan, which is the closed I've seen to a personality swap. I will look for it, but if anyone knows it, pls post the link! Also, there is a body swap fic, where they took on hints of each others personality. in that Wei Ying was hornier, and Lan Zhan was more ADHD coded , I'll have to look for that one too. I decided to comment in case I don't find any of these but someone else knows

Call Me By Your Name by DizziDreams (E, 52k, WangXian, Modern AU, America, University, Smut, Dubious Consent, Misunderstandings, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Edging, names have been swapped, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking) I think the first fic that was suggested for #10 (where lwj and wwx have each other's names) is the modern AU

~*~

11. ur fav dad fics where wwx or lwj raises a-yuan? especially modern? thank uuu

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher!lwj, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

The stuffed bunny, the beautiful nephew, and other gifts from Lan Qiren by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, Modern, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, single dad lwj, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let lwj have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

Single Parent Lan Wangji / Single Parent Wei Wuxian

🧡 paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 (E, 53k, WangXian, Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Everyone Is Alive, Modern AU, Dadji, Mutual Pining, Happy Ending, Brief Alcohol Mention, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Accidentally co-parenting with your son's art teacher, Fatherhood)

Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

for you, andante by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 35k, WangXian, Modern AU, Music, Musicians, Pianist LWJ, Guitarist WWX, Kid Fic Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Existential Crisis, Unrelated JGY & QS, Friendship, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending)

💖 The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane (E, 71k, wangxian, modern, accidental baby acquisition, slow burn, pining, [Podfic of] The Simplest Way Forward by knight_tracer)

~*~

12. heyyy admins! what are some of your favorite wwx and junior fics?

~*~

13. ITMF white haired wwx!!

🔒归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by dragongirlG (M, 7k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Aging, Aged WWX, Grief/Mourning, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Diaspora Feels (displacement), Dramatic Irony, Secret Identity, Pining, Brief Reference To Suicidal Thoughts, Hopeful Ending, [Podfic] 归心似箭 | Longing to Go Home by Koontyme)

~*~

14. (ITMF) Thanks so much for all that you do! I've just finished rereading And Miles To Go Before I Sleep by glitterbombshell and I've got a hankering for more LWJ vs LXC or Lan comeuppance or even Lan bashing (I have checked that tag). I'm craving Lan angst (even LWJ as long as WWX ends up happy). Bonus if we see them suffer (vs LWJ just going nutso and killing everyone off screen). Thank you, thank you. 💕💕 @ck90

🔒💖 When has silence saved anyone? by Vrishchika (T, 6k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, post-canon, LXC critical, family feels, angry LWJ & LSZ, LXC gets scolded)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Post-Canon, POV LXC)

~*~

15. hiii itmf idol x fan wangxian aus preferably idol!wwx but the opposite works as well @nalalie

All My Songs I Wrote to Find You by Winxhelina (T, 8k, wangxian, Social Media, Bullying, Immortal WangXian, Scheming NHS, Musicians, Explicit Language, Kissing, Making Out) a bit of a twist as they're immortals who got separated in this one

The Ties that Bind Us by Dyapaya (G, 10k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JYL/JZX, JC/NHS, Idols AU, idol WWX, fanboy LWJ, College/University, Modern, Obsessive Behavior, Misunderstandings, Twitter Fic, Stalker)

If I Can't Have You by Leffy (E, 47k, wangxian, Modern, Actors AU, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Intercrural Sex, Frottage, Masturbation, Blow Jobs)

time of fate is passing; or: The Great and Lonely Fudanshi; or: How Lan Zhan Defeated Heterosexuality and Learned to Love Again by verseau (E, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fandom Allusions & Cliches & References, Don't Take Seriously, Idol WWX, Fudanshi LWJ)

The Brightest Star In His Sky by Liebing (M, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Idol LWJ, past relationship, Break Up, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, soft, Happy Ending, Background XiYao, idol MY, WWX POV, Background ChengQing, pregnant WQ, Making Up, concert setting, Song writer WWX, LSZ is an unseen matchmaker, Jealous WWX, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love Confessions, Dominant LWJ, Soulmates)

~*~

16. I just read “a grave is all too weak a thing by Reverie (cl410)“ and now I’m hungry for multi-chapter fics with a similar premise. Does anybody know of anymore fics where others (this one has Jin Ling’s parents & Wen Qing) were resurrected along with WWX? (Like this one has them in their og bodies and even clothes so I guess their resurrections followed Untamed rules) And if no one can find any, please use this as a prompt. (The ficlet is in a prompts playlist anyway) @omgnectarina

a bird in your teeth by Eevee (ChaosBitch) (E, 61k, JYL/XY, wangxian, Let XY have nice things, Let JYL get some good dick, (sorry JZX I know you did your best), Past JYL/JZX, Past JYL/MM, All of the sex in this fic is consensual, But one of the participants IS a fierce corpse, JYL POV, Minor Character Death, I feel like this fic turned out surprisingly soft, but XY still does some onscreen murders, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mention of JGS's canon behavior, Mentions of XY's canon behavior, Also Wangxian is not the main pairing, but they're definitely here and stupider in love than ever, Angst, past XY/JGY, Hopeful Ending) This has XY bringing JYL back as a fierce corpse & WWX getting resurrected earlier than in canon. Not sure if it quite fits the request, but it involves someone other than WWX being resurrected, so I'm throwing it in

the problem with authority by isabilightwood (M, 139k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, QS & JYL, Canon Divergence, Sacrifice Summon, only the summoner sticks around, slightly dark JYL, WQ lives, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chronic Pain, Mild Sexual Content, Switch Wangxian, WWX has to be resurrected & LWJ find out before they can interact, but there’s plenty of wangxian once they do, manipulative relationship) different summon followed by eventual wwx summon.

~*~

17. Hello, I’ve never asked this blog something before but I believe this falls under the “In the Mood for a Fic” catagory?

Any fics where it shows Lan Zhan’s pov as he realizes that Wei Ying has returned (hearing him play Wangxian)? @xinilia

🔒The Price of Old Wishes by SoManyJacks (E, 67k, WangXian, Minor canon divergence, Angst, POV LWJ, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, semi-verbal!LWJ, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Suicide) The events of the novel from LWJ's pov

🔒 a song of joy and regret by RoseThorne (G, <1k, wangxian, longing, grief/mourning, regret, crying, devotion, resurrection, dreams, angst, LWJ pov)

🔒 Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, wangxian, pre-relationship, reunions, sky children of the light fusion, multiple POV, LSZ pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[swtorramblings]

Claudia as Cruella as usual by @fleeting-sanity, thanks again!

Claudia watching the box that you can see things in when she comes to a sudden realization. 817 words. Happy Halloween!

She just stared at the spindly woman on the “television”. That she wasn’t actually real did not help make her less disturbing, in some ways it made her more. And this wasn’t even the same as the “horror movies” that Azula and Vaylin had taken some interest in. Claudia had, too, if she was honest, but this was somehow worse. Probably because it was more, what, mundane? Just an everyday person with wealth whose evil was finally defeated by a good family.

She had watched the show to, as they put it, “get into character”. Now she felt something stirring about this Cruella de Vil. At first, she was angry that they’d suggested her for a costume. How dare they? The only thing they had in common was an unusual head of hair, but this almost spider-like caricature of a woman was truly awful, mistreating her “friends”, trying to round up a hundred and one adorable little pups just to make a coat? Then she had a stray thought, “I wonder what kinds of spells they could be used in?” She turned off the television (she had only just started calling it that after “box that shows things” for weeks). She sat, open mouthed for a few moments, then pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She felt tears on her face, but she couldn’t stop them. She was this devil. She had mistreated, even misused her friends. She had driven her Sorbear away. She never used creatures to make a coat, but she had destroyed living creatures to fuel her magic. Sometimes for truly petty things. To start fires, to make her quick brown morning potion and pancakes. And when they weren’t petty, they were worse. She saw her former friends, and the elf with the cute braid they had sided with, accusing. She didn’t think then that she should care, she was just being practical, defending her family, protecting the long-suffering human race. But then why had Soren left her? She hid her face, and lost track of time, didn’t notice how dark the room became without the television on. So she jumped out of the chair in a panic as the lights clicked on. “Your costumes ready, interesting choice,” she heard Sameen say. She rapidly tried to wipe the tears from her face, pretending that the light had just woken her up to cover. She didn’t think Sameen would believe it. “The others suggested it,” she said, voice cracking a bit. Then she turned and looked at it. “I don’t think I want to wear it, I’m sorry you went to the trouble.” “It wasn’t any trouble, I picked it up from a shop. Why don’t you want to wear it?” “Because she’s awful.” Sameen paused. “You watched the movie with all the dogs?” She couldn’t say anything, so she just nodded, trying to keep from crying again in front of the woman that had taken them all in. “All right, I won’t ask about it, but…” Claudia couldn’t stand it. Clenched fists to her sides, she whispered, “Because I’m her.” Sameen studied her again, the way she had when the three of them had been brought here. “Do you want to talk about it?” She started shaking her head, but when she found her voice, she said, “Yes.” Later, after telling all of her secrets, her tears had dried, she was feeling more like herself. But she was nervous about how Sameen would react. She had seen her kill a few times now. Sameen tilted her head, and then turned towards the room’s camera and said, “Root, any suggestions?” “I think I have just the thing.” They could almost hear the smirk just in her voice. “Do you think the others should join you?” “Well, probably not Fusco, but Vaylin and the girl, sure.” “OK, I’ll get it streaming for you after they’re there.” “Thanks.” “You know how much I like it when you want something.” “Quiet, you.” The two of them were so weird, Claudia thought. They watched the movie together. She didn’t know if it was a great story, but she found this version of Cruella to be someone she could possibly feel some kinship with. Hurt repeatedly as a child, then more as an adult, and she did get her revenge. Not a horrid, bloody revenge, just a form of justice. This was a person she could be. “All right, I’ll wear it, let’s go get candy or perpitrate some tricks.” “What, you weren’t going to wear it?” Azula said. “I thought you’d like her, really,” Vaylin put in. “I think I do now, I like the character we just saw.” “Good! So I hope you all got something from that, but it’s almost time to go and none of you are in costume.” Claudia walked passed and snatched the costume. “Be right back.

[rivensdefenseattorney]

Alfea's Curriculum

(WIP)

Department of Alchemy and Potionology

Beginning Level:

Introduction to Potion Brewing: A foundational course covering basic potion crafting techniques, understanding ingredients, and the fundamental principles of potion making.

Botanical Studies for Alchemists: This class introduces students to enchanted botanical studies, focusing on identifying and understanding the magical properties of plants used in potion-making.

Essentials of Healing Magic: An introduction to healing and restorative magic, emphasizing the ethical use of magic for healing purposes and the basic principles of channeling energy.

Intermediate Level (Prerequisites: Beginning Level Classes):

Intermediate Potion Crafting: Building upon the introductory class, this course explores more complex brewing techniques, potion stability, and the interaction between different ingredients.

Advanced Botanical Studies: Delving deeper into enchanted plants, this class explores rare and powerful botanicals, their cultivation, and their specific applications in potion-making.

Healing Elixirs and Remedies: Focused on practical applications, this class teaches students how to create specific potions and elixirs for various healing purposes, including physical and emotional ailments.

Advanced Level (Prerequisites: Intermediate Level Classes):

Mastery in Potionology: A comprehensive study integrating advanced potion crafting techniques, potion artistry, and experimentation with rare and volatile ingredients.

Enchanted Gardens and Sustainable Magic: This class explores the creation and maintenance of enchanted gardens, emphasizing sustainable practices and the ethical use of magical resources.

Advanced Healing Arts: Mastery-level training in healing magic, focusing on complex healing spells, energy manipulation, and the integration of potions with magical healing.

Overlapping Classes:

Alchemy Lab Practicum: This practical class runs parallel to different levels, allowing hands-on experimentation and application of theoretical knowledge in a controlled environment.

Ethical Practices in Potion Making: An ethics course required at each level, focusing on responsible use of magic, moral considerations in potion making, and the consequences of misuse.

Department of Elemental Arts

Beginning Level:

Introduction to Elemental Arts: A foundational class introducing students to the basics of elemental forces (earth, air, fire, water), their manipulation, and the ethical use of elemental magic.

Defensive Magic Fundamentals: This course covers the basics of defensive spells and shields, teaching students how to protect themselves using elemental magic.

Arcane Foundations: An introductory class exploring basic arcane arts, including rune crafting, spell formulation, and magical incantations.

Intermediate Level (Prerequisites: Beginning Level Classes):

Elemental Control and Channeling: Building upon the basics, this class focuses on honing the control and manipulation of specific elemental forces, teaching students to wield them with precision.

Combat Magic Techniques: This class delves into combat-oriented elemental magic, teaching offensive and defensive combat spells tailored to different elemental affinities.

Advanced Arcane Studies: Expanding upon arcane foundations, this course explores complex spellcraft, advanced rune work, and the creation of personalized spells.

Advanced Level (Prerequisites: Intermediate Level Classes):

Mastery in Elemental Manipulation: A comprehensive study focusing on mastering the fusion and synergy of multiple elemental forces, enabling students to create powerful elemental effects.

Advanced Defensive Tactics: Specialized training in advanced defensive spells and strategies against various magical and physical attacks.

Mystical Combat Mastery: An advanced combat-focused class, teaching students to seamlessly blend elemental forces into offensive spells and maneuvers.

Overlapping Classes:

Elemental Combat Practicum: Practical training sessions running parallel to different levels, allowing students to practice combat techniques under controlled conditions.

Ethics in Elemental Magic: A mandatory ethics course at each level, emphasizing responsible and ethical use of elemental and arcane magic.

Department of Magical Studies

Beginning Level:

Introduction to Magical Studies: A foundational course providing an overview of the magical world, including an introduction to mythical creatures, historical contexts, and the basics of artisanal magic.

Mythical Creature Identification: This class focuses on identifying, studying, and understanding various mythical creatures, their behaviors, habitats, and magical properties.

Historical Foundations of Magic: An introductory class exploring the history and evolution of magic, tracing its origins through ancient civilizations and significant magical events.

Intermediate Level (Prerequisites: Beginning Level Classes):

Advanced Mythical Creature Research: Building upon the basics, this course involves in-depth research projects on specific mythical creatures, their impact on Fae realms, and their cultural significance.

Legends and Lore: An exploration of mythical tales, legends, and folklore, dissecting their symbolic meanings and their influence on magical practices.

Artisanal Magic Techniques: This class focuses on the practical side of artisanal magic, teaching students the creation of magical artifacts, wand-making, and enchanted objects.

Advanced Level (Prerequisites: Intermediate Level Classes):

Mystical Anthropology: A comprehensive study of the relationship between Fae and mythical creatures, exploring their interaction, cultural exchanges, and historical significance.

Advanced Magical Historiography: This course delves into the analysis and interpretation of magical historical texts, deciphering ancient scripts and understanding magical artifacts' historical contexts.

Mastering Artisanal Magic: Advanced training in crafting powerful magical artifacts, imbuing them with specific abilities, and understanding the intricacies of enchanted object creation.

Overlapping Classes:

Mythical Expedition Practicum: Hands-on fieldwork that runs parallel to different levels, allowing students to conduct research on mythical creatures in their natural habitats.

Ethics in Magical Studies: A mandatory ethics course at each level, emphasizing responsible research and ethical practices in dealing with magical creatures and historical artifacts.

Department of Diplomacy and Leadership

Beginning Level:

Foundations of Diplomacy: A foundational course introducing students to the principles and practices of diplomacy, including negotiation techniques, diplomatic etiquette, and conflict resolution basics.

Leadership Essentials: An introductory class covering the fundamentals of effective leadership, emphasizing communication skills, decision-making, and team management.

Cultural Studies and Intercultural Communication: This class explores the diverse cultures within the Fae realms, teaching students how to navigate cultural differences and communicate effectively across different lineages.

Intermediate Level (Prerequisites: Beginning Level Classes):

Advanced Diplomatic Negotiation: Building upon foundational skills, this course delves deeper into negotiation strategies, scenario simulations, and diplomatic problem-solving.

Strategic Leadership: An intermediate-level class focusing on strategic planning, visionary leadership, and fostering innovation within Fae communities.

Diplomatic History and Case Studies: An exploration of historical diplomatic events within the Fae realms, analyzing case studies and learning from past diplomatic successes and failures.

Advanced Level (Prerequisites: Intermediate Level Classes):

Masterclass in Diplomatic Relations: A comprehensive study of diplomatic relations between Fae kingdoms, advanced negotiation techniques, and the art of maintaining alliances.

Leadership in Governance: Advanced training in governance principles, focusing on leadership in politics, law, and decision-making processes within Fae societies.

Crisis Management and Diplomatic Crisis Resolution: Specialized training in handling diplomatic crises, conflict resolution, and mediation techniques in high-stakes situations.

Overlapping Classes:

Diplomatic Simulation Practicum: Practical simulations running parallel to different levels, allowing students to apply their diplomatic and leadership skills in realistic scenarios.

Ethics in Diplomacy and Leadership: A mandatory ethics course at each level, emphasizing ethical leadership, integrity, and responsibility in diplomatic engagements and governance.

Department of Mystic Arts and Expression

Beginning Level:

Introduction to Enchanted Artistry: A foundational course introducing students to magical expressions through visual arts, covering basic techniques and introducing mystical elements into artistic creations.

Fundamentals of Musical Enchantment: An introductory class exploring the fusion of magic with music, teaching basic musical theory and introducing enchantments into compositions.

Introduction to Mystical Movement: This class introduces students to magical dance forms, focusing on basic movements infused with Fae essence.

Magical Drama Basics: Exploring the use of magic in theatrical arts, covering basic acting techniques infused with mystical elements.

Intermediate Level (Prerequisites: Beginning Level Classes):

Advanced Enchanted Artistry Techniques: Building upon foundational skills, this course dives deeper into magical art forms, teaching advanced techniques and experimenting with diverse mystical mediums.

Harmonizing Magic in Music: An intermediate course focusing on refining enchantments in music, exploring composition, and blending different magical elements in musical pieces.

Mastering Mystical Movement: Advancing dance techniques with a deeper understanding of Fae essence, intricate choreography, and the fusion of magic into movement.

Enchanting Theatrical Performances: This class delves further into the use of magic in theater, focusing on advanced stagecraft and mystical storytelling techniques.

Advanced Level (Prerequisites: Intermediate Level Classes):

Artisanal Magic in Visual Arts: Mastery-level training in creating magical artifacts through visual arts, integrating functionality with artistic expression.

Mystical Performance Showcase: A capstone course where students showcase their mastery in their chosen discipline, presenting a culmination of their artistic and magical journey.

Required Classes for All Students

Foundations of Magical Theory: An introductory course covering the fundamental principles of magic, its history, and its significance in the Fae realms.

Ethics in Magic and Society: A course focusing on the ethical use of magic, moral considerations, and the societal impact of magical practices.

Ancient Fae Studies: Exploring the ancient civilizations and cultures of the Fae realms, delving into their traditions, rituals, and historical significance.

Mystical Arts Practicum: A practical course allowing students to experiment with various forms of magical expression, encouraging creativity and practical application of learned theories.

Fae Lore and Legends: An in-depth study of mythical tales, legends, and folklore within the Fae realms, providing cultural context and understanding of significant narratives.

Introduction to Elemental Forces: A foundational class introducing students to the basics of elemental forces (earth, air, fire, water), their symbolism, and their relevance in magic.

History of Diplomatic Relations: An overview of diplomatic events, alliances, and conflicts between Fae kingdoms, providing insights into the dynamics of Fae diplomacy.

Leadership Skills and Team Dynamics: An introductory course focusing on essential leadership qualities, communication skills, and collaborative teamwork within magical communities.

Introduction to Potion Brewing: A foundational course from the Alchemy and Potionology department, introducing students to basic potion crafting techniques, understanding ingredients, and the fundamental principles of potion making.

Mythical Creature Studies: A course exploring the diverse and mystical creatures within the Fae realms, focusing on identification, behavior, habitats, and their significance in Fae lore and culture.

Introduction to Enchanted Artistry: A foundational course introducing students to magical expressions through the arts, covering basic techniques and introducing mystical elements into artistic creations.

__

Only 2 more posts to go and I'll be done with Alfea's section. I wanted to know what classes/study would you follow at Alfea?

[atsadi-shenanigans]

GODDAMNIT THE SMUTFIC IS OVER 10K AGAIN. Will I ever write a shorter one??? 😫

[thatonebirdwrites]

Heroic

Lena Kieran Walsh knew her plan was perhaps the most ridiculous and ludicrous plan of all time. Yet her mother's last wish before her death had been, "become a menace to our enemies."

Lena, in tears, holding her mother's hands, vowed, "I will. Be at peace, Mammy." Her mother exhaled few ragged breaths with a faint smile before she slipped away. As if she'd only needed Lena's vow to finally let herself go.

The funeral had been a quiet affair, mostly due to her mother's instructions. Lena invited those on her mother's list, but she also added Sam Arias and her daughter, Jack Spheer, and Andrea Rojas -- her friend group to help support her.

They stood on the Cliffs of Moher that day, and as requested by her mother, she spread her ashes amongst the dirt by that trail and planted the oak. It had taken a week to get permission for the planting due to the area being a park, but the week had given Lena time to secure the ingredients for one last spell.

Lena herself didn't believe in magic per se. She was a scientist to her core, preferring to study biology and physics at the university, her thesis on the use of nanotechnology to target and destroy cancer cells. A project she shared with Jack and Sam. As much as university had set her apart from her mother’s lessons, she still remembered the old ways.

Traditions taught from mother to daughter, magic and stories that mustn’t be forgotten. Her Mammy was a self-professed druid within a larger druidic coven. She'd been highly regarded in the community as the caretaker of Ireland's history and myths, and Lena had been expected to take her place until she’d flounced off to uni.

But that day, she asked Sam to hold her brolly, it being a soft day, the mists from the heavy clouds like pinpricks against her cheeks. She knelt in the dirt and unstoppered the growing potion, one she’d carefully made per her Mammy’s instructions. Sung the magical words and focused all her mind and heart on imbuing it with her love for her Mammy.

That day, on the Cliffs of Moher, Lena poured the potion into the roots of the oak and sung the activation song. Her voice clear and precise, the melody soothing with little runs, and her eyes closed to keep herself from weeping. Tears would shatter her voice, and she needed to this perfect.

She could do no less for her Mammy.

Later Jack, Andrea, and Sam would swear the tree had grown during that moment, but Lena had her eyes closed and missed it. Lena expected the coven’s agreements that growth occurred, but Jack, Sam, and Andrea? They’re the pragmatics and realists of the group.

In the following months, she’d think of that day often, while she quietly worked through her mother's grimoire. Partly to better understand but also to continue her legacy in a way, and that was what gave her the idea.

Her mother referenced several artifacts that had been stolen from Haitian tribes, who had contacted her out of concern the magic within them was being misused. Her mother's cancer had prevented her from doing much more than attempt wards on the exhibits in London to prevent misuse.

But Lena had a better idea.

Why not steal from the colonizers who ransacked countries, starved populations into submission or outright killed them? Lena knew the stories of her people well. Her mother had taught her of the potato famine, which had been caused by the British literally poisoning the fields. The trauma of that colonization never left her people, and she let the rage from those injustices fuel her plan.

The Haitian tribes would see their lost artifacts returned, and Lena would wear the color of blood as a symbol of the dead left in the wake of the colonizers. Yes, if she planned well, she could leave her mark, and live up to her promise to her Mammy.

"Lena," Sam argued, "You can't do this alone. Let me help."

"I don't want to risk you," Lena protested. "You have a daughter."

"And the risk to you?" Sam crossed her arms and frowned. "You're family, Lena. And we help family always. So if you're going to do this stunt, then let me be your getaway driver."

“She has a point.” Andrea sipped her scotch from where she sat next to Lena’s bar. She leaned against it, both elbows on the counter, while her hand swirled the scotch. “This is a grave risk. Besides, it’ll be way more fun with friends, Lena.” She smirked. “I am an excellent—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Lena pointed her finger at Andrea in warning. Her ex-girlfriend smirked in response and leaned against Sam’s side. The two had become nearly inseparable since meeting, and Lena didn’t mind if it meant less jokes about her own sex life.

Jack, who had stayed silent up to that point, chuckled. "Luv, they’re right. Doing this alone? It's a bit much. You need a team. I'll see if I can rig up a program to keep the cameras off your movements."

Lena already had done some preliminary hacking to see the extent of the security, but now that Jack had mentioned it, having someone to control the cameras would be immensely helpful. And Sam was an excellent driver and had a pilot's license, mostly because Lena had needed a buddy to get through the lessons.

"Fine. You all can help." She made a show of rolling her eyes and sounding put out, but secretly she was thrilled that her closest friends had her back.

Sam turned onto Mare Street in London, and slowed to a stop near 11 Mare Street. She parked with a frown. "Lena, are you sure this is it?"

Lena stared at the rather small storefront. Victor Wynd Museum of Curiosities was emblazoned above the more stately letters of The Last Tuesday Society. The window overflowed with a grotesque display of shrunken heads, skeletons, and voodoo dolls. No wonder Mammy's Voodoo friends contacted her for help. This place stank of exploitation of their craft.

"Yup. It's smaller than expected."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam leaned over her steering wheel. "There's a cocktail menu posted on the door."

“What? Are they drinking out of the skulls?” Andrea quipped, a hint of disgust in her voice.

Anger seared through Lena's veins. "Of course. Typical British."

"Hey!" Jack protested from the back seat, where he sat with a laptop. His fingers danced across the keys. "I am mildly offended, Luv."

"Jack, you're more Scottish-Indian than British-Indian," Lena drawled.

“Still. Till the Scots gain our independence, we do not drink from skulls.” He sniffed dramatically, but she knew he wasn't really bothered. "Their security is a load of tosh."

"Considering how tiny this storefront is, I'm not surprised," Sam said. "So, uh, what's the best way to do this?"

“Too distracted to hear Lena’s hours long presentation?” Andrea teased, which elicited a glare from her girlfriend.

“The placement of your hands is the villain here,” Sam shot back, her cheeks reddening.

Andrea raised her hands and wiggled her fingers. “We all need exercise sometimes.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Stop acting the maggot you two.” She nods toward the museum-cocktail lounge. “Three am is the goal since they close around midnight. Jack, focus on taking over their security feeds. I'll have a program ready. It'll erase itself within twenty minutes. If I'm not out by then, all of you leg it. If I’m caught, I’m caught, but I won’t have you three joining me."

"That's kind of tight," Sam said, uneasy. "And we can’t just leave you, Lena."

Lena sighed. "I mean it, Sam. This isn’t some grand heroic moment. It’s breaking and entering.”

“I beg to differ,” Jack said. “Heroic is indeed what this is. Lost artifacts returned to their homes? A modern day Robin Hood.”

Lena smiled and shook her head. “Look, I get in, procure the stolen artifacts, and get out. No sight-seeing or distractions. Twenty is plenty.” She turned to glare at Andrea. “Can’t trust you not to lob the gob with Sam, so you’re the lookout.”

Andrea smirked. “Fine. I’ll wear all black.”

“Good. Do that ridiculous whistle if you see any Garda.” In reply, Andrea gave Lena fingerguns. “Sam, use your electric car. The idling’s as silent as a grave.”

Sam nodded. “Can do.”

“Now remember,” Lena narrowed her eyes at Andrea but glanced at the other two in the car for good measure. “We’re scouting now. No getting banjaxed. I need you all as sprightly as a wagtail.”

“Being a craic vacuum today?” Andrea quipped.

“No more dossing around, Andi,” Lena said exasperated. She used that saying once about Sam being too uptight, and Andrea adopted i almost immediately to Lena's annoyance. “Or you’re sitting the rest out.”

“Wait, there’s more planned?” Andrea grinned. “Mina, you’re holding back.”

“Shut it. We have a job to do. Now let’s get cracking.” Lena opened the door and wished she wasn’t about to sully herself in the most exploitive, macabre cocktail lounge she'd ever seen.

The moment she stepped inside, she wished she hadn’t, as the jampacked walls full of macabre exhibits and the strange musky scent almost had her walking right back out.

But no, she needed reconnaissance. Locate exactly where to enter, nab the target, and exit. Surely her ancestors and the ancestors of her mother's friends will forgive her for having a short drink next to a taxidermy lion on a table made from a sarcophagus.

She needed the ancestors protection for this, not their fury. Besides, the cocktails turned out to be manky as hell.

Dressed in a red cloak, wide-brimmed hat, gloves, and boots, Lena felt a trifle ridiculous but also proud of herself. Time to finally live up to her vow, to do what her mother could not, and bring home what was stolen.

From their reconnaissance, she marked several windows large enough for her to slip through. All required a climb. It hadn’t taken her long to make a device to shoot the rope into the wood of the window. Climbing had been a bit stressful, but she’d made it. Below she could see Andi, leaning against a wall as she watched the road. Jack was still in the car with Sam, the program churning through the security.

It took three tries with her tools to unlock the window and push it open. The stench hit her first. She pulled up her scarf to wrap around her face. For feck’s sake, did the owner store poop here? She dropped into the attic and to her horror there was indeed poop here. Several glass jars labeled with celebrity names and dates sat in a container to her right.

It gave her an idea however. She gathered a few and carefully made her way down the rickety ladder to the main floor. In the bar area, she set up each of the jars and uncapped them. Two she dumped their contents in front of the main office.

She tiptoed out of the bar and gingerly entered some of the exhibits. She couldn’t take it all — her bag couldn’t carry it for one nor would the rope hold that much weight — but the staggering amount of human remains on display twisted her stomach with rage.

Maybe she could come back and steal it all, but for now she focused on the Voodoo poppets. They were arranged in rows three exhibits down the hall in front of a macabre set of shrunken heads, African Masks — the designs reminding her of the Igbo people actually — and several skulls.

She bowed her head and murmured the words she’d heard her mother say many a time, “Tagaim chun tú a thabhairt abhaile. Bí ar a suaimhneas.” Irish for ‘I come to bring you home, be at peace.’ Then one by one she wrapped them in the silk the Haitians had sent her mother for this, and tucked them in her bag.

A quick sweep of the other exhibits found her three more poppets, and a search of the attic another six. Her twenty minutes neared completion, so she scurried through the window, slid down the rope, and tapped the button on her belt. The bolt blew apart in a rain of metal, the rope dropping like a flying a snake.

She whistled to Andrea, and the two legged it to Sam’s car. As soon as they tumbled into the backseat, Sam slid out of park and the car silently pulled away from the curb.

"Five minutes to spare," Jack said with a wink. "Nicely done."

"I'll do better next time," Lena leaned back and patted her bag. "Mam's friends will be relieved to have these home again."

"Here you are, being the hero of our time," Andi said with a grin and poke of her elbow in Lena's side. "You need a name though." She looked over Lena's outfit. "Why red?"

"Carmen is the hue actually." Lena laid her hand on her bag and thought of her Mammy, how the cancer had slowly eaten away her life. How hard she'd worked toward causes of liberation. "I promised Mam I'd become a menace to my enemies. I wear the color of anger and blood."

"Right, and whose gonna know that?" Jack pointed out.

Lena smiled. "Oh, the world will know soon enough."

Three hundred Euros later and two days of searching flights, Lena was on her way to the Haiti, her prize carefully hidden in her carry-on luggage. As she watched Ireland fade from view, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. She’d done it.

She’d rescued priceless artifacts, and now they were going home. Smiling, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Already plans formed of improved methods of infiltration. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it well.

[purplerakath]

Descendants 4 - Improving the Ending

I had some SUDDEN INSPIRATION and decided to write it out as an answer to the pretty lackluster ending the film had. There are, all told, about three things I really think stand out to why the ending is bad.

...but of course this is all spoilers so let's just clip this now, shall we?

So the items are:

A lack of visible stakes.

A lack of impact from the protagonists.

A misuse of characters already present.

So the stakes overall are 'if Bridget goes evil Brandy gets beheaded' but that's not really an in-the-past stake to weigh on. We need to see events unfold and be there for what happens. And a lot of elements are already in the narrative, they just don't use any of them (and I would imagine they were used in a previous draft).

Step Zero: Set-up

So to start, either through flashback, storytelling, or using the Looking Glass, we need to see if not the prank, we need to see Bridget right after the prank. When she's gone from pink and bubbly to 'red with blood.'

Likely her rejecting Ella. But we need some baseline of what Bridget looks like when she's turning into the Queen of Hearts. if we see the actual prank or not doesn't really matter. But we need to let Ruby Rose Turner play the evil version for a little bit.

Step One: Castlecoming

So to start off, we need to move the 'prevent prank' from Merlin's office to the actual event in question. The actual ticking clock on events unfolding. We keep that Ella promised to go with Bridget, but can't due to being grounded.

Except she can thanks to Fay breaking her out and enchanting her a disguise. This is our first set-up/payoff we didn't get. Fay who shows up at the start failing at magic (who probably needs a second appearance still working at it, and maybe a scene being bolstered up on her abilities) succeeds where it counts.

The disguise fails to fool Uliana. Who uses it to taunt Bridget by suggesting her best friend ditched her for Prince Charming. This puts Bridget in a weaker mental state so that the fallout from the prank can truly hurt her. While Uliana is setting up for Bridget's downfall, her minions are running interference.

Step Two: Swordfights

Chloe and Red are trying to get to Bridget and protect her from Uliana's plan (which for the sake of it doesn't matter, I am keeping as 'potion to make monstrous'). However we've got these four pretty flunkies in Maly, Hades, Morgie, and Hook. Who know that Red and Chloe might be a problem and are there to keep them busy.

This pays off Hook's flirting with Chloe giving them a good swordfight. While Morgie is Red's opponent in a cat and mouse eventually getting him trapped somewhere. These two fights should be shorter, and mostly fun for Morgie being weird and Hook flirting shamlessly for no actual gain.

The real fight is with Maly and Hades. Which is where we get Chloe's moment of growth. See, the set-up for her is rules, honor, and fair play. I want her to win by cheating. She does the right thing, but using the wrong methods. Because the right thing is more important than her honor. Paying off her scene with Ella.

While this is happening Red's scampered off to go save her mom.

Step Three: Pranks and Fallout

When the plot was revealed, before watching, I figured it wasn't an act of cruelty that turned Bridget, but an act of betrayal. That someone close to her failed her so spectacularly she lost faith in others. I'm not working that in exactly, but using the other half of pranks and bullying to make it work.

A cruel person doing a cruel thing hurts. Everyone else laughing hurts worse. So the problem isn't the prank, it's that the rest of the students don't call Uliana out for it. In this case, with Ella MIA because of her Debatably Charming prince we're left with a Bridget facing the school that's against her.

(In this case I'm leaning on them blaming monstrous Bridget for ruining Castlecoming rather than laughing at her misfortune. It feels more in line with where Bridget goes without any help.)

So Red, who arrived too late to stop the prank (pranks being basically what she does to her mom every day with her vandalism) watches, sees the fallout... and stands up for her mother the way she wished her mother would stand up for her.

Because Bridget, unlike her Queen of Hearts, does not deserve this crap. And Red lays into the onlooking students and shames them for their callous disregard of others. Calling everyone out. Guilting the lot of them into shutting up and leaving Bridget alone.

And that's how Red earns her new timeline. Bridget giving Red a hug, thanking her for standing up when nobody else did.

Uliana and the other VKs get detention forever from Merlin. Chloe arrives after everything with her mom and dad. Ella checks on Bridget, Bridget is not okay. But things aren't playing the same way they did in Step Zero. Something has changed.

Step Four: Doubt

While our girls know they changed things. There must be some lingering concern it might not be enough. Even if we got to see them fight their hardest to change the past. It's important that we have the full surprise of how things go after.

The other thing, is both Queen of Hearts and Queen Cinderella need to show some sign of recognizing their girls in the present. Either directly thanking them, or causally mentioning they were named after themselves.

Anything to sell time travel happened.

Step Five: ???? & Step Six: Profit!

This wouldn't make it a perfect movie by any stretch, but it would significantly improve things from where they are. Make the ending feel real. Make it feel earned.

Let Anthony Pyatt own being Hades for more scenes. Cause that guy really did his homework mimicking Cheyenne Jackson.

You know. Just the important parts.

[ryuichirou]

America ya :D

Anyways, hellooo this is my first time doing an ask so I'm sorry if this delivers weirdly.

I love your dark headcanons and was wondering if any of the Yandere! twisted wonderland boys (if they could) would hypnotize their partner? And how they would do it? Like Jamil unique magic or some magical object they bought from Sam (who probably wouldn't question) or even a potion? Maybe something to fry their brain until they submit? That kind of stuff, if you can't get to me, ignore this ask! Otherwise have a wonderful rest of your day and sorry to bother you!

Hi Anon! Sorry it took me this long to reply to your very first ask. Glad to have you here and happy you’re enjoying my hcs!

Quite an interesting ask, and now as I’m thinking about it, a lot of them would do it, wouldn’t they? Even if not in their normal state, I can picture a lot of them being doing something like this out of desperation. Not all of them though, so let’s go through the list and think about who would hypnotise their partner, and how they would do it!

Oh and yes since it’s a yandere scenario, I’ll try to only talk about them doing it to their loved ones.

Riddle – to him hypnosis probably defeats the purpose of making someone learn their lesson and admit that that he is right, but if a certain stubborn self-willed eel keeps being stubborn and self-willed, Riddle could get frustrated by him and try to hypnotise him. He could use either a potion or a magical object... but he would create one himself because this is too personal of a project.

Ace – he would want to do it at least once! Either out of jealousy or because he can’t ask for something he wants directly and would rather use a convoluted workaround. He also feels like someone who would get a magical object from Sam or find it somewhere randomly, and then unintentionally cause chaos because he starts misusing it, or the object works in the wrong way.

Deuce – hmmm, nope, I don’t think Deuce would do something like that, not necessarily because he is a good boy (that too!), but also because Deuce feels like someone who would use more of a direct approach. He probably wouldn’t even think about hypnosis.

Trey – he would use a potion. Trey has so much power over others with his cakes and tarts it’s insane. Whenever he adds wet ingredients to the dough or softens the crust with some milk, he thinks about how easy it would be to add a potion there and control someone like that. He is trustworthy enough, no one would suspect it, and there are a lot of potions that don’t have any taste, or have a taste that is easily coverable. Sometimes he looks at Riddle and wonders... Maybe it would be easier to just feed him a cupcake, hypnotise him, make him do unthinkable things with Trey and then forget about it? Wouldn’t that make his pining easier?

Cater – he could. He could have an entire thing in which he regularly hypnotises someone, has sex with them and then turns the hypnosis off, as if it never happened. I feel like multiple boys in this list are going to use hypnosis this way, but to Cater it’s good because he doesn’t have to hold back if the guy doesn’t remember it anyways. I think Cater would use some phone app with magical properties... Downloading it was creepy, it’s not on any official store and is banned! Kei-kun thought he’d have his entire phone hacked!

Leona – I’m 50/50 on this one. It doesn’t sound like his method, but Leona does reckless stuff sometimes. I think he used a magical object on Falena once just to see if it would work, and it did. Leona realised that he could make Falena give him the crown that way, but for some reason he didn’t and used it to have sex with him instead. Priorities..? Leona’s head is a troubling place.

Ruggie – his Unique Magic kiiind of has elements of not hypnosis but body manipulation, and I think this is his go-to, but if some magical object suddenly dropped in front of Ruggie, he would absolutely use it. The problem is, I don’t think he would mainly use it for love and sex, but it could be one of the first things he tries it on. He could go to Leona and hypnotise him into doing something he would never normally do... and then, after he learns that with this thing he could make Leona ride him, he will start controlling him for other stuff too. But I don’t think Ruggie’s joy will last long: Leona is probably going to notice that he is being hypnotised pretty quickly.

Jack – I don’t think he would. Similarly to Deuce, I don’t think Jack would even think of doing something like that, plus, it doesn’t sound fair to him. Even if he goes yandere, he would go a different route.

Azul – absolutely: he loves using Jade’s unique magic on others + probably thinks that Jamil’s unique magic is great. Unfortunately, the ones who he wishes to use this kind of magic on are those who are the least susceptible to it (i.e. Jamil himself). So Azul really wants to either create a potion or get a magical item that would be more powerful than Jamil’s Snake Whisper. I think Azul gets very horny thinking about it... But unlike the others, who use hypnosis to make someone do something and not remember it, Azul would make sure that Jamil remembers it both to manipulate/humiliate him and to use it as blackmail. Winning over Jamil this way sounds incredibly satisfying. Oh, Azul thinks too much about these things..!

Jade – Shock The Heart would be an easy answer, but it’s pretty limiting and could only be used once on a person + doesn’t necessarily make anyone do anything... So I think Jade would also go the potion (the mushroom one, of course) route. It’s not like he has to do it out of yandere reasons though, but he would be very interested to see just how much he could control someone with a mushroom-based potion.

Floyd – I think Floyd would only do it if he stumbled upon a magical item and started playing with it; his mind wouldn’t naturally go that route. If someone doesn’t want to do something, Floyd either loses interest or forces them, so hypnosis isn’t necessary. But to make someone act in a weird or unnaturally lewd way... He would really enjoy it as a toy. Especially after he sees Riddle obediently pushing his ass against him or trying to shove Floyd’s entire dick in his mouth. Floyd would abuse this power though, he would be pretty mean.

Kalim – in 99% of scenarios – absolutely not, not only he wouldn’t do it normally because he is a good guy, he also knows how bad it is to get treated this way. But in a yandere scenario, in an extremely rare and almost not possible 1%, I can picture Kalim, whose brain has been fried with jealousy for a while now, sadly going “well, there is no other way, is it?” and going to Sam to ask for advice. But the catch is, if he does that, he would instantly get disappointed because whatever Jamil does or says under the hypnosis isn’t real anyway, and this isn’t how Kalim wanted things to go between them. We’re back to 100% then...

Jamil – you said it: his Snake Whisper really is perfect for stuff like this. But I’m having a hard time picturing a yandere scenario for Jamil; he is way too preoccupied with how much he doesn’t want to have Kalim around to suddenly get obsessive over him. But I said it before and I’ll say it again: Jamil would at least consider using his UM to have sex with someone. It’s too easy and convenient for him not to...

Vil – oh, potions. Absolutely potions. Vil wouldn’t do it normally, but extreme jealousy (especially if we make him more of a yandere) could drive him this way; now this is someone who would really use “there is no other way” as an excuse. I think he would mostly use hypnosis to make his lover tell him the truth about something that’s been literally driving him insane, but unfortunately for Vil, if this is Rook we’re talking about, he wouldn’t hear anything new: the man doesn’t really lie, he just tells the truth in a weird way. This would make Vil even more frustrated and angry and the whole thing would turn sexual out of nowhere.

Rook – as wonderful as it is to play with a beautiful marionette, I think Rook finds his lover’s will and intention way too sexy to take them away like this. He takes them away other ways... Still, he is one playful man, so he could fool around; but similarly to some other guys, he would have to conveniently stumble upon a very useful toy to start thinking about it. He wouldn’t do it for long though because he wants his loved one to be present when Rook takes him and forces him to promise that he is his and his alone.

Epel – this is going to take a long route for Epel to end up here, but he might. If he is desperately in love, but just can’t win the person over completely (Floyd again??), if he really wants to get treated like someone who could be a lover and not just a plaything, if he is seething with anger and jealousy, he absolutely could do it. Epel and Vil are surprisingly similar in this regard. He would probably fail one way or another though...

Idia – hmmm, nope, I think he would only use hypnosis on his loved one if they had an argument and he wanted to be a little shit about it, as in “serves you right, you prick”. Technically, Idia used to be able to access Ortho’s “brain” and program him the way he wants, and it sounds similar to hypnosis, but I think Idia wouldn’t do that even if he was super jealous. He could get an urge to erase someone from Ortho’s memories if Ortho starts to pay more attention to them or to build his life around them, but... I think Idia wouldn’t have the heart to do it.

Ortho – absolutely. If only it was that easy to manipulate people’s brain data... it’s like writing commands. I think “early” Ortho is more possible to do it than “later” Ortho, because the more Ortho develops, the more he gets excited about humans being hard to predict. But it doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t get frustrated that you can’t just cancel someone else’s wish to go somewhere, do something or see someone, or overwrite it into desire to stay with Ortho forever. The more yandere Ortho gets, the more of this desire he develops. I guess he has an inner conflict... Oh and yes, he would use repeating sounds and bright sparks to hypnotise someone: very crude and mechanical, but suits him a lot, I think!

Lilia – not his way to handle things. I think Lilia is also someone who would use force and direct command to affect his loved one. He is the one to lock someone in a room, to eliminate the enemy, to be quite drastic and obvious, even if he covers it up by being a cutie. So he is in a “wouldn’t do it, but would play with a magical tool as if it’s a toy if he stumbles upon it”. He would use it on so many people...

Silver – he is the least likely to do it out of the entire cast. Too pure. Wouldn’t even consider it. His first and only thought would be “can I hypnotise myself into not falling asleep?”. He is such an easy victim...

Sebek – if he gets super desperate, yes. In a way, he is similar to Epel, but he would be kind of upset that he had to do it, he might even think that his partner forced his hand. It’s not Sebek’s fault that Silver or Idia (not Malleus, god forbid) acts this way and doesn’t listen! He would use a tool, and he would go to Sam to get it. While being embarrassed, angry and painfully in love.

Malleus – I feel like he is powerful enough to be capable of some forms of light hypnosis. And he is super jealous, super petty and super impulsive when he gets emotional. And if this is a yandere scenario, he is emotional alright. Wait... what am I even talking about, we have the whole scene in Sleeping Beauty where Malificent hypnotises Aurora by ominously singing her name and seducing her to prick her finger (I’m not touching ch7 because we can’t talk about it yet). Yep. This man would do it. Easily.

[marketfreshfics]

Saturn of ULTRA - Prologue

Plot summary: When a futuristic Hogwarts is constructed after a massive catastrophe, a new threat to wizard-kind emerges in the wake of such advancement. An unlikely pairing must work together to prevent history from repeating itself.

Tags: Hogwarts AU (canon divergence) | friends to lovers | aged-up characters (7th year) | NSFW content (magical violence, smut, language)

Waking with senses so ill-equipped ought to be outlawed. Incandescent lamplight induced squints and her eyes squeezed shut, annoyingly so after having been closed for so long. Her sense of sight shook the dust from misuse, eyelids dry and stinging as she strained to make sense of colours, disconnected from dreams, and, albeit reluctantly, reattached firmly to reality and the demands of the present.

She was horizontal, thank Merlin; standing was a language she lost to lack of use, especially if she didn’t have legs. Did she? Was she still human?

Her toes could curl, and the blankets shifted over her limbs, temporarily relieving her delusions. Remarkably, her joints did not crack from fusion, though atrophy had done a number on her.

Seconds passed as she gathered her bearings again, or at least enough to look around a second time, inhaling sharply when she met a pair of brown eyes wide as saucers.

“You’re awake!” cried a familiar voice, familiar despite the haze of memory that nearly failed her thrice. Female and soft, she combed through her mental faculties to place a voice to a face, and, once fully visible, a face to a name.

It all connected at once. “Poppy?” She croaked, the sound a hollow wrack, coughs immediately following suit.

"Yes, yes it's me!" Poppy's joy manifested in a giddy seat-bounce in the armchair at the bedside, radiating relief. "Can you sit upright? Shall I ring for a nurse?" But before her bedridden friend could manage a partial response, she was calling for one anyway, unwilling to leave risk to chance on this momentous occasion.

The waking girl found her voice again with an air of confusion. “A nurse?”

Small, spry hands grasped hers then, and with a feeble sense of self, she was soon sitting upright with pillows to prop, blinking snapshots of her surroundings as if to process them slower than experiencing the now at full speed. Sense began to manifest then, as she recognized lying in a hospital bed, all manner of potion stores lining the nearby shelf, the black chalkboard enchanted to mark up a real-time display of her vital signs, arcing and dipping with her rapid heart rate.

Abruptly, the nurse on staff was erased with a sponge, one Miss Ophelia Derby replaced with the healer taking over, Miss Nova Fenwick. 

A proper lot to digest awaited as she looked to Poppy for a slice of normalcy. With her, fresh memories of feeding mooncalves and scritching baby snidgets under their beaks soothed her brain ache, a small respite; call it intuition, but an inkling writhed in her unfed gut that the situation outside her bubble of awareness was grim.

As if to cram the notion deeper, Poppy’s subtle glance shift from eyes to throat fisted her self-consciousness, and so she felt about her face, noting all the important bits and bobs were still there, though something felt different…

Fingertips brushed the slip of fresh, sensitive skin, where it connected to the jagged, familiar skin of her neck. She followed it, from her earlobe to the hollow of her clavicle, scrunching her neck in an attempt to see it despite being physically unable to contort in such a manner.

The attending healer politely rapped her knuckles on the open door, asking if all was well before her eyes flared wide with the shock of finding her previously comatose patient sitting up and fully conscious. She spun on her heels, plaited hair whipping with the abrupt motion as she hurried off to hail a doctor. 

Alone with Poppy once again, the burden of her two most prominent, must-be-spoken words fell on her shoulders. “What happened?”

The weight of the question buckled then, as Poppy’s chest swelled with the kind of inhale only meant to precede difficult conversations. She let it out unbearably slow and prepared the words that would provide clarity. From her solemn expression, she wasn’t exactly eager to know.

And so, Poppy told her dear friend about the night that everything fell apart.

A Ravenclaw through and through, her pursuit of knowledge knew nary a bound.

But this was information she ought not to have asked for.

Though her wand rested in her lap again, the hawthorn conduit pristine save for a small scorch mark on the hilt, she felt as if the ancient magic in her had somehow perished. The news that Poppy shared had been so devastating, so life-shattering that she wasn’t keen on the next steps, the what-nows unspoken for the time being, almost in mourning. She was left with this lead ball of news in her gut, liable to pull her down with it as it sunk.

Hogwarts was destroyed.

Once Ranrok accessed the final repository beneath the school, a chain of events followed in deliberate, gutwrenching succession. 

First, her ancient magic amplified the effects of the repository. In Poppy’s words, it was like a magnifying glass held beneath a blinding ray of sunshine at high noon.

Second, when Ranrok was defeated, the magic was rendered unstable, and despite the ancient magic wielder containing it within a vessel as a source of rest, it remained hostile, churning continuously in the moments following, the volatile power fermenting in its own subatomic mass.

Then third, terribly so, the unbridled magic began to spread outward and up, pulverizing the very foundational bricks of the castle like shale rock beneath boots. Luckily, the professors were able to evacuate the school grounds exceptionally fast, with Aurors arriving on the scene to assist, but there was nothing that could be done to preserve or save Hogwarts. The clock face was first to fall, followed by the west tower, the Ravenclaw and Astronomy towers crumbling simultaneously, and then one by one, history, stories, and an era in itself were laid to rest in ruin.

That was in February. Seven months ago.

And the descendant of ancient magic had slept ever since. “Well, the muggle term is 'medically-induced coma,’ but that sounds awfully bleak,” Poppy sighed. 

She cried through her physical exam, tears ceasing only while being coached through learning to walk again, but as soon as her personal effects had been returned to her on the day she was discharged, they sprang forth with renewed agony, facing the outside world without knowing what came next, as if the pages of a book she was halfway through reading were promptly torn out, the ending lost for good.

And to add more fuel to the flames of guilt consuming her insides, she learned her advisor and mentor over the past six months had perished along with the castle as well. 

Professor Fig deserved far, far better, she thought, watching the valleys and hills of the highlands pass by in a blur of evergreen beneath the setting sun, as the Hogwarts Express rolled smoothly along the tracks en route to… well, whatever it was now.

Of course, they’d rebuilt the castle, she thought when Poppy went on to explain the aftermath. Students and staff banded together to erect a replica of the fortress they adored, though the unfettered magic, left floating about, anchored to the school grounds from the repository had… altered it, as time passed. When prompted for further explanation, Poppy refused to elaborate and remained blatantly cryptic, advising her to “keep an open mind.”

She ruminated endlessly in the weeks leading up to the start of term, during her physical rehabilitation appointments scheduled alongside the magic refresher compendium that Professor Sharp had oweled to her over the summer. “Seventh year awaits,” he wrote, each flourish of his rushed penmanship as punctuated as his tenor drawl, “see to it that you maintain your upward trajectory.”

Despite everything, the wielder of ancient magic felt wholly useless to the cause. Ever the diligent friend, her Hufflepuff companion provided reassurance, reminding her that she was bedridden and healing for the heftier half of a year. “Everyone is eager to see you again,” she added affectionately. “Especially a certain redhead.”

Garreth. 

Bloody hell.

He was the first of whom she asked Poppy for updates about, steering the topic of conversation back to brighter prospects. Before Hogwarts was felled, before Ranrok and his arsehat loyalists encroached beneath their sacred place of study, Garreth had gone ahead and topped off the culmination of months spent flirting back and forth, their friendship toeing the line marking uncharted territory, with an admission of his feelings that left her chest tight and her center of gravity knocked clean off its axis.

And despite being deemed one of the brightest witches of her time, she hadn’t a clue how to react before mumbling a pathetic, “I need to think about it,” scrambling off to anxiously breathe into her bed linens. 

Award-winning, frustrating, remarkable display of utter stupidity, that was.

She wouldn’t have the gall to approach him now and ask him to backtrack his feelings, months later, without a responding peep bridging the gap with a swell of awkwardness. 

A Ravenclaw through and through, yes, but she was certainly dimwitted to matters of the heart.

Commotion in the adjacent booths tugged her from the self-flagellation stewing in her feelings. She poked her head out of the lonely compartment, curiously eavesdropping on a swath of fourth years discussing some sort of ward approaching. “Once the train passes through, it’ll light right up! My uncle helped with the redesign, incredible what that magic has done…”

“Quite right, I’m excited to see it happen.”

It only prompted more questions, of which she was about to pose to the younger students, when the train slowed considerably in its locomotions. 

The voice of the stately conductor echoed through the corridor then, announcing to a chorus of animated titters and chatting. “Attention, students! We are now passing through the school ground wards, so you will notice some changes occur. Please remain seated, and ensure your personal effects are tidied, packed, and ready for arrival.”

Everything began to change in rapid succession, and she was wholly unprepared.

The first thing she noticed was how dark it became, all at once, without the ebb from daylight to night.

Then, immediately after, the train compartment transformed from the timeless warmth of woodgrain and upholstery, to sleek metal fabrication and dazzling light fixtures that glowed an otherworldly shade of teal.

The scenery outside her window drastically altered before her eyes, as the Hogwarts Express slowed in its approach of the train station.

And when Hogwarts Castle appeared in the distance, alight with fluorescent saturation, electric in its very existence, she was left in gobsmacked awe.

Thank you to @wedonthaveawhile for letting me 'borrow' her OC Nova from her story, The Serpents Hold 🤍 you are a total peach and I LOVE YOU

[rainesol]

Kshoshurankha mini fic!!

(Not beta read at all lol.) This is set in Kshoshurankha’s first year, a short while after him trying to take the same potions the merfolk do.

“Sada? A letter came addressed to you—”

He took the letter from his friend at the door with a smile and a warm ‘thank you’, and adjusted his glasses.

“—It’s from your son’s school,”

Sada scanned the letter, tilting it up and flicking his tongue in thought. “It certainly is…” He lowered the paper and settled down again by his work table. His friend -and dear sister in law- followed, and rested beside him.

“I can scribe for you, if you’re busy?”

Sada smiled amiably again and nodded. “Tell them I’m busy then. Send Khass,”

Kshoshurankha waited anxiously by the dark mirror with the Headmage, tail gently twitching in agitation.

“Not to worry, Mr Kaasura! Don’t think of this as a disciplinary meeting. This is purely to figure out how to prevent any more incidents,”

Kshoshurankha very much wanted to tell him that he was not worried about himself.

Before he could respond, the mirror warped and twisted, and his mother ducked under the frame, before slowly moving down the steps. She was wearing a green saree and had her hair tied back tightly. The more of her body she pulled from the mirror, the more scarred and scaleless her body became, continuing until it concluded painfully early in an amputated tail.

Khassyatta stationed her staff into the ground and stared down her nose at Crowley.

“Ah, Mrs. Kaasura. Shall—”

“—Doctor Kaasura,”

“My apologies. Doctor Kaasura, shall we head to my office?”

She made a quiet noise of disapproval, before following beside him. Her son trailed slightly behind. The walk to the Headmage’s office was uncomfortably silent. No doubt Kshoshurankha’s father would have filled it with pleasant conversation. However, the more stoic of the pair did no such thing. It may have been better off that way. Kshoshurankha thought back to the last time he had heard her give a command, when one of the King’s men had been injured by heavy machinery.

Khassyatta spun her staff above her head with enough force to kill a man, the magestone sparking and drawing a perfect circle. She brought the staff down into the earth with a crack, and shouted out a simple order: “Everything within this circle is sterile,” she had asserted, “Do not step inside it!”

After making it through the final few stairs, Kshoshurankha was pulled from his memories by the sound of harsh coughing. His mother was doubled over, and taking deep breaths. She held up an impatient hand at the Headmage when he opened his mouth and firmly planted her staff against the floor, resting her body weight against it. She caught her breath and pulled herself into the office behind Crowley, followed closely by her son.

“I suppose there’s no need in telling you both to take a seat!”

If that was a joke, Khassyatta didn’t laugh.

“So,” he continued, “As you know, Kshoshurankha has been having some… Issues, as of recent. To name a few, being late to -or missing- lessons, missed assignments, sleeping in class, misusing potion ingredients— I’m sure you are aware this simply cannot continue,”

“No,” Khassyatta coldly remarked, speaking for the first time since her correction in the mirror chamber. “It most certainly can not,”

Kshoshurankha was incredibly glad that he could not sweat.

“As a Night Raven College student, a certain level of—”

“—Kshoshurankha, wait outside,”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Kshoshurankha turned tail and exited the office despite Crowley’s protest, closing the door behind him.

“So,” Khassyatta leant forward, hands splayed against the edge of the desk. “I have heard my son is struggling here?”

“In a sense,”

“Struggling to fit into a human set of standards?”

“Well, wh—”

“Crowley, I am a patient woman. But to hear my young son has been struggling to the extent that he has taken a potion unfit for his body and species to escape your staff’s ire has left me quite vexed,”

Crowley nodded silently.

“And you are aware that I allowed him to attend your school under the assumption that there would be additional amenities put into place in order to make his experience equal? That was the agreement, yes? That he attends here in order for the staff to learn how to accommodate a larger species?”

Crowley opened his mouth to respond.

“And I should assume—” she cut him off with a hiss, “—that you are aware that we are a nocturnal species. A nocturnal species that reaches immense size and weight, that is slow-moving and is entirely cold blooded? A species that is not built for traveling large distances?”

The desk creaked under her grip.

“To summarize. I have been pulled from my work, made to travel from my home to the nearest point of travel from my country to this, and have had hours of my time wasted, to be told that you and your staff have not only failed my son and my expectations, but that he has also been punished as a result of your oversight. Do I have that correct? —No, don’t respond. That question was rhetorical,”

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I’ve said my piece. I’m going to leave your office. My son will escort me back. When I get home, I am going to write you a letter. It is going to contain every detail that you will change for my son, and why. I will be asking him to keep me updated. If I find out these changes haven’t been made, I will arrange a second meeting. And Headmage?—”

She leant in again, hands gripping the desk so hard he swore he heard it splinter.

“Do not let that meeting happen,”

Without letting him get a single word in more, Khassyatta turned around and calmly exited the office, gently closing the door behind her.

@tixdixl @cyanide-latte @the-trinket-witch @thehollowwriter @elenauaurs

@emiensr