#bloody riddle dragon

[sparsilees]

it’s almost the end of 2024. can we drop this absolutely inane fanonical idea that harry james potter is “oblivious” or “unobservant” or “average”?

fuck your fanon harry. fuck that soggy tissue who doesn’t inspire confidence in others. fuck that lummox who cannot string a sentence together. fuck that hothead who’d lash out in anger and throw punches at every provocation. fuck that namby-pamby who can’t read clues or between the lines or come up with a plan of action. fuck that sheep who can’t function without hermione’s direction. fuck that neanderthal who’s a messy eater, messy writer, messy speaker, and has poor manners.

who the bloody hell is that? that’s not harry james potter. why are you twisting and malforming him into a bloody clown?

why are you undermining the main character of his own series? boy has an abysmal self-esteem, stays quiet and lowkey, bottles up his truest feelings and thoughts (that we as readers are privy to, but not the other characters!), and has a calm and composed mien so you think you too can dismiss his character easily and strip him down to a skeleton of his canon self and instead carve out huge character growth, redemption arcs, and love letters for everyone else?

you wish to evoke sympathy for draco by making lucius out to be an abusive father and crafting a pitiful childhood for draco when they have an affectionate parent-child relationship canonically, but downplay harry’s abuse? you realise that tom riddle, sirius black, james potter, and hermione granger are acknowledged to be the brightest of their generation, yet forget harry potter and tom riddle are two sides of the same coin, even sharing a similar appearance, and reduce harry to a silly caricature? you make harry magically powerful but wrest his smarts away to highlight someone else’s big brain?

you make him out to be a short dork with a shorter fuse and no idea what’s going on around him when harry and tom are both described as woe-ridden orphans—with all that entails from constant hunger to cold sleepless nights to hypervigilance to the forced, quick maturity—but treat tom true to canon as tall, cunning, and clever, then do an about-face to conveniently slap the malnourished, oblivious, and slacker labels on harry to make him as lesser than?

when he picked up the impervious spell simply from having seen hermione perform it once, when his closest friends have difficulty gleaning his thoughts, when his anger is cold and sharp like dumbledore (ootp was a study in ptsd, next!), when he’s just as tall as his father, was just as ill-treated as a house elf, and rightfully brilliant as the son of lily and james potter—the two powerful and talented individuals who once had voldemort trying to recruit them to join his cause?

the sheer disrespect on his name. the sheer mockery of his character. the absolutely mind-boggling erasure of his most defining traits.

who do you think sussed out most of the big clues, and stowed away all the little, random bits of information in his memory bank, to ultimately piece the puzzle together at the final showdown every end of the school year? who realised as a mere firstie that quirrel was the man hagrid blabbed to about fluffy and the dragon egg? who noted that ginny was withdrawn and unlike herself? who had an inkling fleur had taken a fancy to bill? who picked up on what was brewing between ron and hermione before their own selves? who noticed that hermione cast a confundus on cormac mclaggen during the match? who caught on instantly to the change in tense used for the diadem’s existence and confidently tracked it down? who cottoned on to luna’s longtime disappearance from her cold, untouched bed and the layer of dust? who did voldemort consider his equal? who actually has an uncanny sense of intuition? who calls the shots when the trio gets into a pickle? who?

mcgonagall? flitwick? draco? hermione? blaise zabini? no!

excuse harry for that one time he did not look deeply into the mental workings of a grieving girl because he’s not equipped to deal with them, and has in the first place never been taught to process his own emotions properly because he didn’t grow up in a healthy environment, prohibited from expressing his feelings, let alone vulnerability, and voicing his thoughts!

let’s bury this annoyingly stupid narrative for good. go read the books and refresh your perspective. stop doing him dirty. you’ve already butchered sirius black’s character into a pathetic sisspot. and now you want to assassinate harry’s too.

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Cregan Stark × reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.03

The hour was late, and there was not a soul aside from yourself and Prince Jacaerys in the guest house in Winterfell, so you were able to speak freely with each other away from any prying eyes. Your nephew's most recent revelation causes unexpected feelings of grief and sympathy to unfold.

The poisonous actions of your own family had spread so far it caused Rhaenyra to go into premature labor. “My condolences, Jacaerys. I did not know your mother had lost her babe.”

“Did word not reach the keep?”

“If it did, I was not informed.” You sigh, “Losing a babe is a lonely experience. I wouldn’t wish on my worst foe.”

“You speak as if you know this from experience?”

You feel a sudden chill; the only light in the room was from the candles on the table and the flames from the fireplace. Even in the dim light, you can make out the glossiness in his eyes; he was fighting to hold back tears. “A few years ago I had a babe that came early, a girl. I was going to call her Visenya.” You scoff, “Perhaps the name is cursed.”

“I’m sorry.”

The dead girl's birth was more painful than Maitland’s. The maester had no understanding of what caused the premature birth; the only thing you knew for sure was that you were completely alone. “I couldn’t bring myself to say it,” your voice begins to crack. “At her funeral, I couldn’t bear the thought of my own dragon being the one to set my tiny daughter pyre on fire, so Aegon commanded Sunfyre to do it.”

The mention of your brother causes Jacaerys to tense up. He looks furious.

“I know you think he is a monster, but he was the only one who helped me through my grief.”

Confused, he asks, “What about your mother, husband, or Helaena?”

You sit back in the hard wooden chair and smile at the mention of your sister. “Helaena is the most kindhearted and gentle of us, but she doesn’t cope well with death. It took her three moons for her to speak with me again, and even then my sweet sister only spoke in riddles.”

“What about Alicent?”

You lift the cup of wine sitting you had yet to touch to your lips in a poor attempt to hide the involuntary scoff. You rarely saw eye to eye with your husband, but your mother being untrustworthy was something you always agreed upon. “I have kept her at arm’s length and have for many years, trusting nought that she says.”

Jacaerys looks horrified. He was struggling to understand what it must be like to have a family that did not care much for one another.

“Do not fret, my prince,” you say reassuringly. “Not all mothers can care for their children in the way they perhaps wish they could.”

“Was Aemond not there to comfort you?”

Visenya’s death is what completely shattered your marriage. The broken feeling of sitting in your bedchamber alone after the silent sisters came for your daughter still haunted you. Not only should Aemond have been mourning with you, if he was there, they wouldn’t have taken Visenya away from you so soon. You prayed he would burst through the door when the midwives ripped the dead babe you had been cradling from your arms, but he never came.

He was with his whore, missing everything.

When Aemond returned and the maester told him what happened, he beat his knuckles bloody against the wall and only stopped when Ser Criston managed to restrain him.

“No, he was not,” you finally take a large gulp of the bitter-smelling wine. “My brother Daeron is kind, but he lives in OldTown. He wrote to me more than usual, but it was only Aegon who visited me when I was inconsolable.”

Jace says nothing.

“It’s not Aegon’s fault; all of this was my grandsire, Criston, and the men that sit in their council. They were the ones who plotted for years.”

“And your mother? Was she not the ringleader of the rightful queen being usurped?”

“My mother thinks she has a voice in the council, but she is yet to see that it was only possible previously because the king allowed it.”

“How did King Viserys die? Daemon thinks he was poisoned.”

“Perhaps he was.” You look down at the smallest candle and watch as the last of the wax melts away. “Will the queen be merciful when she sits upon the throne? Will she spare Helaena?”

“If you bend the knee, she will gladly take you into her heart, all of you. Our family doesn’t need to be torn apart.”

“It's not only our family who’s been affected. We’ve turned brother against brother. Ser Erryk is on Dragonstone while Ser Arryk remains in the keep. The kingdom's divide has already begun within the kingsguard. I dread to see what will become of the small folk.”

“When my mother takes kings landing, Daemon’s first act will be to hang all those who betrayed her, including the kingsguard who remain loyal to Aegon.”

“It’s not so simple, Jacaerys. Ser Arryk, he only stayed because he’s sworn to me, to my son. Not because he agrees with what happened. Everyone knows my father chose his line of succession; he wanted Rhaenyra on the throne then for you to be king.” You lean your arm over the table and take Jacaerys hand. “If I tell you something of value, you must promise that you’ll never say you heard it from me.”

“What—”

“Swear it.”

He nods, “Yes, I swear it.”

You let go of his hand; tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “On the day he was crowned king, Aegon tried to flee. And he has considered doing it again, but my mother and grandsire have the keep-on lockdown. But it may be possible if someone helps him.”

“Who… you would help him leave?”

It felt like a betrayal discussing Aegon in such detail with another, but you needed Jacaerys to understand the blacks weren’t the only threat to your family. “I would, and not because I don’t believe your mother would spare his life if he bent the knee, but because I know what would happen if he did.”

A look of understanding passes his features. “His own men would turn on him.”

“If Aegon is gone, his son Jaehaerys is next in line. Healena does not want this for him; she will gladly hand the city over to Rhaenyra, and without bloodshed.”

“I have the feeling you are still withholding.”

“Of course I am,” you chuckle lightly as the tears you fought so hard to hold back finally fall. “I do not wish to send my own brother to death. I want to save him from being crushed under the weight of a crown he did not ask for.”

“Do you really think he’d leave his wife and children?”

“Yes,” you answer honestly. “He cares for the twins, but it didn’t stop him from trying to leave before.”

Jacaerys looks uncertain, but how could he not be? There were things you couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t begin to explain that you’ve seen the threat from the north, his mother sitting on the iron throne. The death of thousands by the hands of dragon flames. How you just knew your mother would betray Aegon one day.

“It’s late,” Jacaerys stands up. “We should both sleep and speak again tomorrow. Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, nephew.”

When Jace leaves and you are alone, you begin to crumble. You desperately try to hide the sobs escaping your mouth; exhaustion and pent-up emotions are finally catching up. You pick up the small wooden toy sitting on the table and hold it tightly. Maitland had many toys, and you hope he wouldn’t seek the one you took to feel close to him until you return.

Hearing a soft knock at the door, you rub at your eyes, and presuming it’s Jacaerys, you open the door and are taken aback when it’s not him. “Lord Stark,” you step back to let him in. “Forgive my unladylike appearance; if I had known you were coming, I would have dressed more appropriately.”

Being in a nightgown and robe with only Jacaerys as company didn’t phase you, but in front of the Lord of Winterfell it was rather embarrassing.

“Forgive me, I saw the candlelight and presumed you were still awake... We can speak in the morrow.”

“No, my lord,” you cross your arms over your chest and smile. “It’s fine.”

He stares at you for a few seconds before continuing. “From the moment I returned to my chambers, my son has been all over me. Apparently he’s going to meet the bronze fury.

You smile. “He asked today if he could come with me to see the dragons, but I wanted to check with you first.”

“I—can you assure he won’t get hurt?”

“No dragon can ever be completely tamed, but their emotions are entwined with their riders. And since I hold no ill-will towards your son, he’ll be safe.”

“Okay, he may go with you.” He reaches to open the door. “I best be going; try and get what little sleep I can, as I’m sure Rickon will be up early with excitement.”

“Goodnight, Lord Stark.”

“Cregan,” he locks eyes with you. “When it’s just us, you can call me my first name.”

Mother above, you could only imagine the look on the dowager queen's face if she heard a lord give you leave to speak his name.

“And when it’s just us, you may still refer to me as princess, Cregan.”

He smirks at your teasing. “I’ll see you in the morrow, princess.”

—

𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘎𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—𝘧𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺.

𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴, 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘱𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳-𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘺𝘭𝘷𝘪. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮’𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘭 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘯.

𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, “𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘸, 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦. “𝘔𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘺—”

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?”

“𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘣𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘦𝘭. 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦.”

“𝘐𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦?” 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘵, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴.

"𝘕𝘰, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”

“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦; 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥. 𝘏𝘦 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯, “𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘐 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘱𝘴𝘦𝘵? 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳. “𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘞𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥, 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘲𝘶��𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵; 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘱𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘨. 𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯?

“𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦; 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦,” 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘭𝘺.

“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴.

𝘉𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘥.

“𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯?”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭,” 𝘔𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺. “𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮.”

𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴, “𝘍𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵; 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘝𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥.”

“𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.”

—

“As you say it’s difficult with sons, I dare say I spoil my boy. He’s inherited most things from me, even the things I wish he did not.” You lean against the wooden bannister, standing beside Lord Stark, watching as Rickon plays with his direwolf on the snow below. “Your son, Rickon, is a very kind boy; you must be proud.”

“Northerners are born hardened; it’s in our nature, but I do sometimes regret my son not having the softness of a woman to help guide him. But as you say, he is kind, and that’s all I could ask for.” Hearing the Lord of Winterfell speak of his son in such a way was bittersweet. You didn’t doubt Aemond’s love for Maitland, but your son being kind wouldn’t be high on his priority. “And I’m sure the young prince is lucky to have a mother who loves him dearly.”

You clear your throat. “I find it rather fascinating how different things are outside the city I grew up in. A young lord or lady not marrying soon after their spouse dies is almost unheard of.”

“I could have,” he muses. “My marriage was political, but I was lucky; I grew to love my wife, Arra. She was soft-spoken and would sing a lot. I did not believe it would be possible to find another like her or anyone so deeply devoted to loving another woman’s son. The ladies I entertained with the idea of marrying showed little to no interest in Rickon, so I chose not to bring them into his life.”

You turn to face him and say, “Not many men would say that. Most of them would put desire above love and duty without a second thought.”

Cregan rests his arms beside you on the bannister and leans in ever so slightly, a mischievous smile pulling on his lips. “Tis possible for both to exist; even the most dutiful of men and women still have desires, princess.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile. “You wouldn’t have fared well growing up in the keep as a lady, my lord. I was taught if a woman had improper desires or urges, they were to go pray in the sept for forgiveness.”

You feel the warmth from his body when his broad shoulder brushes against your own. His voice is lower than before when he says, “Winterfell doesn’t have a sept to pray in.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Vermithor landing just outside the walls of Winterfell.

“I believe it’s time for Rickon to meet my dragon.”

—

True to your word, Rickon was unharmed when you took him to greet the bronze fury up close. You even flew around the outskirts of Winterfell three times before Vermithor landed beside Silverwing from the same location you left.

Rickon took your hand and excitedly pulled you through the castle grounds until he spotted Lord Stark and the maester, who were patiently waiting on him. As you watch the young boy go to attend his lessons, you jump, hearing a voice beside you.

“A morning he will never forget.”

“Nephew,” you take in his appearance. “Are you going hunting?”

“Yes, I’ve been invited to join several of the lords; however, I reckon whatever I catch will be devoured by Vermax.”

Jacaerys offers you his arm, which you take. “Very ill-tempered for a little thing, I imagine he will be formidable when fully grown.”

“Big enough to saddle two, so the dragon keepers say. I wanted to let you know the queen has written; she has refused Aegon’s terms.”

“What terms?”

He narrows his eyes, “the ones your grandsire, Otto Hightower, spoke of when he stepped foot on Dragonstone. Did you not know?”

“I was unaware he had even left the keep at any point.”

“The former queen claims me and my brothers will be treated kindly; after my own mother bends the knee.”

“Alicent speaks with two tongues.”

“I suspected as much. She spent years calling us bastards.” When you reach the stables where the other lord's horses are being prepared, he lets go of your arm. “Lord Stark isn’t going; I believe he is staying so he can speak with you in private.”

“I won’t go back on my word. I will do what I can to help your mother sit on the throne.”

He nods and begins to walk towards the stables.

“Jacaerys,” you call after him. “It’s true you don’t share the same features as your mother, but that does not make you a bastard.”

“Do not jest,” he says defensively.

“People will believe what they wish and may whisper behind your back, but it doesn’t change the fact you are of blood and fire,” you cup his cheek. “Ser Harwin had blue eyes. You have brown eyes, as did Ser Laenor.”

You almost feel guilty seeing the look in his eyes. Had the young boy not thought of this before? The rumors of Rhaenyra’s sons being bastards were most likely started, but those on the Green Council as another way to belittle and discredit a woman in a position of power. It is known Aegon has bastards, but not once has it ever been mentioned at court.

You are caught off guard when you turn to walk in the opposite direction, and Cregan is waiting for you. Smiling, you walk towards him, “my lord.”

“Princess, I was wondering if you care to join me in the godswood.”

“Of course.”

“I’m glad; I believe we have much to discuss.”

[kiame-sama]

Humans Are Extinct- (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 11

(Lilia can hear extremely well and can be rather sensitive to loud noises. He often covers his ears or magically deafens himself if Malleus' temper ever causes thunder.)

Warnings; yandere, Yandere behavior, platonic and romantic yanderes, multiple yanderes, threats, blood, injury, poachers, drama, talk of eating Humans, attempts made, near-death experiences, violence, a few time skips, Shinigami, Vampire Bat, Dragon, Cervitaur, Raiju, Kelpie, Unicorn, Drider, Harpy, Genie, Naga, Merfolk, Cecilia, Nemean Lion, Werewolves, implied unnamed character death,

~~~~~~~~

Everyone moved quickly through the forest, eyes keenly searching every tree for any signs that could lead them to their quarry. Not just Housewardens were looking, a veritable army of students all searching high and low for their lost treasure. The staff were also keenly looking, the last location having been searched with a fine-toothed comb. When they found the Human's bloodied and broken collar next to Grim's ripped collar, it was not a good sign.

To think, one of Night Raven College's own students would commit such a crime. The crime of harming and stealing away such a precious creature was nigh unforgivable. The student accused of such a crime was equally unforgivable.

Many had seen him slip away into the forests shortly before the attack, all recounting the way his eyes glowed with danger as he slid from view into the underbrush. At the time, no one had known what he was planning to do and so many had even begun to believe he was harmless. Looks like they were wrong.

Ortho scanned frantically, wanting to find the Human he had befriended and hoping the terrible Beast had not harmed her. Lilia's words echoing in his mind after the chilling analysis of the blood left behind.

"It's (Y/n)'s blood. This... This is too much blood for someone of her size to loose and be able to recover from without aid. If we don't find her soon, she will die from blood-loss."

Malleus was raching through the trees, leading his Hoard in their search for the soft Human that had been attacked. He knew he couldn't trust the other Housewardens with his treasure, and all this did was prove him right. There was no pride in the realization that he had been correct, there was only white-hot fear that he was possibly too late.

Riddle and Trey galloped through the paths, leaping over fallen logs and searching the riverbanks for any sign. Riddle was beside himself with worry as he knew he couldn't trust that Beast that called himself a student. Trey was worried to be the one to find the Human's broken body and what that would do to his friend whose sanity hung by a thread. Riddle already overblotted once, who knew what finding the Human dead would do to the still recovering Unicorn. Who knew what it would do to any of them.

Rook carried his poisonous Harpy over and through the woods, both keenly looking for any sign of the lost treasure. As a hunter and a skilled tracker, Rook was the best bet Vil had to find the Human and hopefully find her alive. Should they stumble across the monster that committed such violence first, well, Vil was of the mind to attack first and question later.

Kalim soared above the trees on his magic carpet, watching his faithful Naga Jamil weave through the trunks and search from below as he searched from above. The Naga keenly followed the scent trail left behind, as faint and muddled by other scents as it was, his tongue tasting the air for any sign of the soft Human or the Beast that took her. Kalim wished he could use his own wishes to find the Human, but had to trust that himself and the others would find her in time.

Jade and Floyd searched the streams and rivers, following the waters into the depths of the forest and swimming at incredible speeds. If the Human were taken through the water, they would know about it and be ready to fight for her return. Jade was furious with himself for ever suggesting he take the Human along on a foraging trip. If he had only kept his mouth shut and never asked her to accompany him, maybe she would still be safe. He would never forgive himself for the tragedy that took place, or for leaving her and that cat of hers unprotected in that clearing while he ventured into the cave. He thought he was keeping her safe by preventing her from joining him in the underwater channels of the cave. He was wrong.

The Beast's own dorm had been placed on lockdown and none were allowed to leave through the mirror. It was a precaution given the fact their own Housewarden had been the offending party. Though many wanted to aid in the search, they were under scrutiny due to the actions of their leader and to many, that meant they were all guilty.

It was Malleus who came upon the scene first, smoke billowing from his mouth as he saw that wretched Beast's golden hide gleaming in the sun. The blood that flecked his fur only angering the Dragon further. What pushed him past his sanity was the way the Beast was positioned above his precious Hoard member.

The Beast was straddling the limp body of the little Human and looked over at the Dragon in surprise as he came thundering through the trees. Every scrap of evidence Malleus could see was more than damming and the Dragon was not keen to ask questions. This Beast had obviously killed Malleus' precious Human, and for that, could not be redeemed.

"For the crime of harming my Hoard and killing my Human, I- Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley- hereby sign the death warrant of Leona Kingscholar and consign his soul to oblivion."

~•§•~

Earlier that day.

You were slowly becoming more and more excited as each class passed, eager to get back to your dorm and play the promised Videogames you missed so much. Even if it was not the games you were used to, they were still games and should still prove to be a good mental distraction. Hopefully Malleus wouldn't be too upset that he was no longer your guard, the Dragon occasionally peaking into the classes you attended in a not so stealthy attempt to keep track of you.

Every time the Dragon appeared in the doorway, he would leave as soon as he caught sight of you smiling in amusement at his clear protective behavior. Even Silver appeared in the halls as you changed classes, walking with you and glaring at those who got too close to you. Grim was happy to have an extra set of legs to carry him around, hoping up onto the Deer-man's back and lounging between classes.

Perhaps you would invite one of your four Diasomnia guards to spend the night. All it could do was make them feel better about the situation and let them see you were safe. The question was who you were going to invite as one showing up typically meant the others would show as well.

All sorts of things fought for attention in your mind, but you were unable to give them much focus. Though you and Grim weren't really students or held to the same standard the other students were, you did want to know what you could about this world. You weren't native to Twisted Wonderland and so the many classes actually gave you a good look into the world you found yourself in and allowed you to learn.

Grim saw himself as a fully fledged student and was eager to remind others of that fact whenever they gave him odd looks in class. Despite how some of these other students seemed annoyed with the feisty cat-beast, most refused to upset or refute his claims as that meant upsetting you. Most students knew better than to mess with you by now and simply avoided conflict all together, as not even the dumbest among them were willing to anger Malleus.

It was during one of these passing periods between class that a familiar tall figure approached you. Silver rest his hand on his sword as the merman walked up, watching with untrusting eyes and a wary gaze. Jade politely approached, nodding his head in greeting as he held his hands in front of him to show he was not armed or seeking to attack.

"Hello, (Y/n), good to see you again."

"Hey, Jade! Haven't seen you since you and Floyd last came over for some dinner. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you. I had a question for you- more of a proposition- since you are quite new to the campus. Would you like to come foraging with me today after classes? I don't expect this trip to take long as there is a nearby cave I was hoping to gather mushrooms from."

"Sure! I would like to know where you find a lot of the mushrooms you gather, so it would be helpful to have someone experienced guiding me along."

Your words and praise made a deep blue blush fan over the Merman's cheeks, dusting the blue-tinted flesh with a deep color. Jade was quite taken with your culinary skill and was keen to learn from you, so he saw this trade of information as a good way to gain your trust. Perhaps he could show you some gathering spots and you could teach him to make your fantastic meals. It certainly seemed like a fair trade to him.

"Wait, is that okay for us to go though? Crowley doesn't want me going into the forest, but if I'm with you, it should be alright, right?"

"Perhaps we should ask the Headmage just in case your collar prevents you from entering the woods? It should be safe enough during the day to forage without trouble."

"Well, I do have time until my next class, why don't we go ask him now?"

"If you're sure? Nothing would make my heart happier than the chance to forage with you."

"Yeah, may as well!"

You reach out and grabbed the Merman's hand, not seeing the way his blush darkened at the physical contact or how he seemed to cherish the feeling of your hand in his. Silver was less than pleased, but he was also not about to dampen your happiness and excitement, even for his own sake.

"Hooman, does that mean I'm coming with?"

"Of course it does. I'm your Hooman, and you're my Grim! We have to go together, or not at all. Right?"

"Yeah! No one can take my Hooman anywhere without me coming too!"

Grim leaped from Silver's back and onto your shoulder, snuggling close to you happily. The soft purr coming from the little beast made a smile pull at your lips as you chuckled and kissed his soft forehead, happy Grim was so sweet to you. It would be a lot harder for you to navigate the school and the students without your fluffy companion by your side.

"I'll check in with you after lunch, okay, (Y/n)?"

"Alright! See you soon, Silver."

~•§•~

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No. The forest is far too dangerous for a soft Human to be roaming around. My answer is 'no'."

"Jade and Grim will both be with me! And it isn't like I don't have a collar on that tracks my location. Even if my collar stopped working, Grim has one too. We won't even be going far from campus!"

Crowley frowned at your insistent begging, not keen to let you go anywhere with anyone, let alone the woods around campus. It was still daytime so there weren't too many threats so long as Jade stayed by you, but there was still danger in the form of poachers. Could he really trust this merman student with your safety?

"What if something happens?"

"It won't!"

"But what if it does? You are Human, (Y/n), and that means-"

"I'm sick of being reminded of that fact every damn day!"

Crowley was surprised by your outburst, not expecting you to be so upset by his casually stated fact.

"Every day it's 'you're Human, you're too fragile' 'you are the only Human left' 'you aren't strong enough to protect yourself' and I am so tired of it! I'm not a child to protect, I'm not an idiot that can't recognize danger, and I am not a pet to keep indoors! You said yourself that almost everyone at this school is willing to keep me safe, so why is it such a problem that I want to see what lies beyond the campus? I refuse to spend the remainder of my life in one place, never allowed to leave and never allowed to experience something new. How am I supposed to be happy or find my own purpose in life if I am kept locked away like some glass figurine?"

He sighed and looked away from your intense gaze and the heated argument. You were right of course, and he was terrified of that fact. The last Human in his care had been taken from him because he just couldn't let her be free and he kept her away from everyone except himself. He saw firsthand how devastating isolation is on the Human mind, to the point that Hades himself had arrived to take the Human away from the unfair treatment at the hands of Crowley.

He couldn't let you be taken from him too, not when you were his precious chick just fledged and seeking to see beyond the fence of Night Raven College. Crowley couldn't blame you for being frustrated with him either as he knew you would get restless being cooped up on campus. The college was large and held many secrets to discover, but it felt so very small when compared with the rest of the world. Surely he could allow one measly venture off of school grounds?

"Mr. Leech, will you be with her the entire time?"

"Yes. I swear it."

"And you'll protect her should any danger present itself?"

"With my life."

"... Fine. Don't go too far and make sure you have your phone and Grim with you. I will make sure the Housewardens and the rest of the staff are on standby. If anything seems amiss, come straight back, understood?"

Your frustration melted away at Crowley's eventual acquiescence to your request, happy to be leaving the campus even if for only a little bit. There was still your displeasure at the overall dehumanizing treatment, but this was a step in the right direction. Hopefully this would prove to the Crow that letting you explore- albeit with a guard- was something that could be good for you.

"Thank you!"

You hugged the surprised Crow as he finally agreed to allow you to go foraging with Jade. The Crow was stiff for a few moments before melting into the hug and returning it in kind. He really did struggle saying 'no' to you and it only made it more difficult for him when you responded to his agreement with such affection. Truly, the Crow saw you more and more as his own young with every day that passed. It was hard not to.

"I'll make sure the others are aware. But I am being quite serious, (Y/n), there has been an exponential rise in visitors to our little island here and it would be foolish to assume they are not here for you. Promise me you will be careful."

"I promise."

"Alright. Don't hesitate to return or call at even the slightest worry that something is wrong."

~•§•~

The forest during the day was vastly different from the forest at night and you couldn't be more thrilled. At night it seemed like every shadow was alive and looking hungrily towards your direction. During the day those shadows were driven back to their dens and bird-song could be heard through the trees. Sunlight streamed through the branches and gave the forest an almost fairytale feeling as crickets and grasshoppers chirped pleasantly around you.

It was less of a foraging venture for you than it was an educational lesson on mushrooms from Jade, who happily pointed out every fungi and plant species he knew. Luckily, Jade had the foresight to bring a second foraging bag with him for you to use and even seemed bashful when gifting it to you. Maybe mermen just had a shyness about giving gifts to others? Regardless of what it was, you were thrilled with the venture and Jade was happy to split the spoils with you.

"So where is this cave you were talking about? Looks like we have most mushroom types I'm familiar with already."

"Not too far now. It is the only cave I have found Agaricus Bisporus, which you really seemed to like in the soup you made for Azul, Floyd, and I that day."

"Oh, so this cave is where the Button Mushrooms grow?"

Jade chuckled slightly at the cute name you gifted to the mushrooms he enjoyed on a regular basis. They were certainly useful and clearly edible to you, so he just found it all the sweeter that you named them after buttons. Such odd creatures Humans were, but he was certainly not complaining as he found himself quite endeared by the uniqueness of the soft individual before him.

"Yes. It can be a little tricky to get where they are growing tough, so I think it would be best for you to wait at the mouth of the cave for me."

"Why is it tricky?"

"It requires some swimming to get to where they grow, and I am fairly sure you cannot hold your breath for that long. But there are still some Pleurotus Ostreatus mushrooms on the felled trees around the cave you could gather."

"Okay. So long as you're quick, I'm sure we both can gather up enough of both mushrooms and trade when you come back out of the cave."

Jade smiled at this, happy to see you seemed to be enjoying the little jaunt through the woods and keen to gather enough mushrooms for the both of you. Maybe after your joint venture he could even help you set up terrariums to grow some of the rarer mushrooms he has found deeper in the woods.

Grim didn't seem half as enthused as you and Jade were, laying across your shoulder as he watched the birds in the trees. He grew up in this forest and suffered at the claws of the other beasts that called the woods home, so he wasn't really interested in the things you and the merman gathered. That certainly didn't mean he was opposed to snacking on several of the edible plants, however.

"Didn't the big Crow say you couldn't be left alone though? Kinda seems like this Eel-guy is fixing to leave us alone."

"Well, I'm not alone because you will be with me, and you won't let anything happen to me."

"Of course I won't! I'm the Great and Powerful Grim! I'll always protect my Hooman."

"Exactly, so there's nothing to worry about, right?"

"Right!"

Despite the way Grim now seemed alright with the situation, you also vaguely hoped that nothing bad happened while Jade was in the cave. You trusted Grim to watch your back, but he wasn't the best mage and you knew there were likely poachers who could overpower your little friend. Naturally, you still intended to be on guard in case anyone tried to approach while you were waiting for Jade.

The three of you came up to what seemed to be a large hole in the side of a large hill, hearing the sound of rushing water from deep within. Jade paused at the cave entrance, removing his phone to give to you for safekeeping as the item did not work beneath the water.

"Alright, I will be back in a few moments and then we can head back to campus."

"Okay. Don't take too long," you gently teased the merman, "or I might have to come in looking for you."

"I'm sure you would."

The merman gave you a final smile of reassurance before heading into the cave, quickly swallowed up by the darkness. A faint sound of splashing met your ears before going quiet and you figured you could look for those other mushrooms Jade mentioned. Grim hopping off your shoulder to go bother some birds that were chirping rather loudly nearby.

Along the many fallen trees, you could see several mushrooms growing from the rotting trunks. They looked like oyster mushrooms to you, which meant they were likely the ones Jade had been talking about. Though you weren't overly familiar with the names Jade used for them, you did recognize several by their appearance.

As you crouched down to start picking the mushrooms, something odd occurred to you. The forest was silent.

Moments ago there had been birdsong and the sounds of bugs going about their little lives, now there was nothing. The only sound that met your ears was the wind in the trees. Something about the sudden quiet made a long forgotten instinct within you stir as the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

Where was Grim?

It was as you stood up to look around that a sudden force slammed into your side, throwing you to the ground beneath a much larger figure. You didn't recognize the beast man above you though they seemed to be some kind of heavily scarred wolf man with grey and black fur. His short whiskers were broken and his teeth were the same as he sneered down at you like a predator taunting his prey. The man on top of you was quick to slice the collar from your neck, nicking you in the process as he threw it away and to the side.

"Those fools just let this juicy treat walk right through their fingers. Idiots, the lot of them."

"Ow! Alpha, this stupid cat is more a nuisance than he is worth!"

You looked towards the second voice and felt your heart jump into your throat as you saw an unfamiliar Wolf-man with brown fur was holding Grim by the neck. Your devoted friend was struggling valiantly against the Gnoll but even you could see he was quickly running out of air and energy. Even as you tried to struggle to help Grim, a sudden stabbing pain forced you instead to return your attention to the one on top of you.

He had sunk a rather large hunting knife into your leg to hold you still and the pain made a harsh cry escape your lips. You couldn't reach your phone or Jade's phone as the bag you carried had been knocked out of your hands before you could react. With a quick motion the man ripped the knife from your leg and positioned it over your throat as if he intended to gut you with it.

"Quit your bitching! Break the damn thing's neck if it is that difficult to hold onto. I'll slice the Human up and we can scram before those students even realize-"

A sudden knobbed club seemed to fly from the forest, cracking against the lead wolf's skull with a sickening smack. The force of the club knocked the wolf off of you and for a moment you tried to get yourself to your feet, only to find your leg struggling to support your weight. In your dazed and panicked stupor, you barely realized there was a familiar golden Lion wrenching Grim out of the second wolf's grasp, throwing the wolf back into a tree. That same Lion was quick to hoist you up over his shoulder, breaking into a dash away from the wolves who were still reeling in pain and surprise.

"Damn it, hold on, Mousey!"

The gruff voice of Leona was a surprising comfort to you as the Lion swiftly ran opposite of the wolves. There must have been more wolves you didn't see as it sounded like an entire pack was chasing after the three of you. From your position over Leona's shoulder, you saw several wolf-men running on all fours after the Nemean Lion that had wisked you away. Despite how fast they seemed, Leona was faster and wasn't even slowed by your added weight.

Over felled trees and through the whipping underbrush, Leona was heading through the forest with far more grace than you expected from the temperamental and lazy Lion. Though it did seem like the school was getting further and not closer, he was still taking you away from the wolves and that was good enough for you. The pain in your leg sent shooting agony up from the wound and only hurt worse with every jostle or sharp turn the Lion had to make. Despite the fact that he was helping you escape, you still wanted to scream out to beg Leona to stop and give you a moment to address your wound.

You felt the trails of blood that ran down your soft flesh and you started to worry about how much you were losing as your leg was already fairly soaked. Only when you began to become lightheaded and started to lose track of the forest did Leona stop his sprint. The howling and barking of the wolves had faded away into the forest which meant Leona had a chance to slowdown and assess what kind of state you were in.

With a surprising gentleness you didn't expect from the Lion, he maneuvered you off of his shoulder and onto the grass. Judging from his grim expression, you were more injured than even you realized. The slight sound of ripping met your ears and you vaguely realized he had torn the leg of your pants to access your injury easier.

"Gotta stop the bleeding..."

Leona muttered as he worked, removing his belt and securing it above your wound. A loud cry left your lips as he tightened the belt and he visibly winced in response. Both Lion ears were angled back on his head as he used the torn fabric of your pants to apply pressure to the wound.

"Don't let my Hooman die, Lion-guy. Please- please, help her."

"I'm trying, you damned overgrown cub! How about you be useful and use your wings to go get help?"

"I can't use them to fly anymore!"

"Then run or something! We won't stay ahead of them for long, so use your collar to call the others before they catch up."

"That wolf-guy tore it off when he grabbed me, I don't have it anymore!"

"Fuck..."

Leona cursed angrily as he continued holding your wound. He could theoretically outrun them, but a lone Lion, even a Nemean Lion, was at a disadvantage when running from a pack. He had the element of surprise but had to throw his Knobkerrie to get the first wolf off of you. That meant he was without his Magestone, his phone- which he had left in his room that morning- and to top it off the one thing that was supposed to keep track of you and your cub had been removed.

The distant sound of howls made Leona's decision for him as he picked you back up, scooping up Grim and taking you both deeper into the woods. He couldn't make a wide circle to get you back to the school, he had no idea how many wolves there were in the pack and they could have spread out to cut him off if he tried. Staying still was not an option with the wolves already on your trail. Trying to signal to the others of Night Raven would also expose your position to the poachers. Leona would have to take you to the town in the valley beyond and hope you didn't lose too much blood in between or the wolves didn't catch you first.

~•§•~

Leona was getting tired. He couldn't keep up the pace forever and eventually he had to stop just to take a breath. Though he no longer heard the wolves, that didn't mean much as they were likely still in hot pursuit. No hunter would give up their greatest quarry that easily, and the soft Human was certainly a prize to obtain.

The problem was that your breathing had gotten shallower and you had fallen unconscious despite his best attempts to keep you awake. Your heartbeat was faint even to his ears and it was clearly upsetting your cub as Grim began to cry.

"No! Wake up, Hooman. Please... Please wake up, (Y/n)! We gotta go home..!"

"She can't. She can't wake up. She's lost too much blood to stay conscious."

"Help her!"

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder!"

"I am! I am trying to keep you and her alive! What do you think I was running for? Maybe shut up and let me think, damn it!"

Grim's ears went flat, the tears only falling faster now as Leona immediately realized his mistake, trying to reach out to the cat who only sobbed and fled into the trees. He couldn't pursue the little cub as he had to make sure you were safe, but it was beginning to seem like you weren't going to survive the trip. Feeling helpless and angry with himself, Leona tried to at least keep you warm and perhaps stave off the cold approach of death. If the wolves came, he would fight until you both no longer drew breath as he refused to leave even your body for the scavengers.

He was ready to fight to his last when he heard the forest rustling with the sound of approaching footsteps, what he wasn't ready for was Malleus Draconia to erupt from the woods. A fair bit behind him rushed in his usual lackeys who also seemed to be out for blood, but none moreso than the Dragon. Smoke billowed from deep within the enraged Dragon as a heavy magical pressure slammed into Leona.

"For the crime of harming my Hoard and killing my Human, I- Malleus Draconia, Prince of Briar Valley- hereby sign the death warrant of Leona Kingscholar and consign his soul to oblivion."

"Wait!"

The loud yowl that interrupted from the woods distracted the Dragon just enough that the bolt of lighting crackling from his form barely missed Leona's left ear by a hair. Grim, with tears streaking down his little face, ran out in front of Malleus to put himself between the Dragon and Leona. His little ruined wings flapped frantically despite giving him no lift or speed.

"Wait..! He didn't- he didn't hurt her! He helped us, but she isn't okay. Please, help her!"

"If it wasn't Leona, then who-"

"It doesn't matter who did it if she dies! Help her now! She's dying!"

The pleas of the little cat moved the Dragon, agreeing to solve blame later and solve the problem at hand. Malleus couldn't hear your heartbeat and that was concerning as he rushed forward to render aid. Lilia was quick to join his draconic lord as his sensitive hearing picked up on the faint sound of your heart.

"She is alive, but she has lost a lot of blood and is going into a coma," he removed his jacket and pulled up his sleeves, "Malleus, use your magic to pull the blood soaked from the wrap, it will have to be enough for now."

The Dragon took orders easily and Leona vaguely wondered who the true leader of their group was as Lilia directed the great mage. They only really took a quick breath of relief when your heartbeat had returned to a steady rhythm in your chest. It was still weak, but not nearly as quiet as it had been. Lilia had done enough triage to know what spells would work best and by directing Malleus he allowed the Dragon to be the primary instrument in saving your life. He had his own reasons to encourage the bond between you and Malleus to flourish, but mostly the Dragon needed to be the one to help you and Lilia knew it.

"Explain quickly what took place. I am ready to listen and deliver punishment to the offending party-"

The howling on the wind was loud and almost sudden, as if intended to startle as the pack of wolves emerged from the trees all around the group. It was clearly a pack of poachers as they all eyed the prize laying between the men. The alpha, clearly bloodied and angry, wielded Leona's Knobkerrie like a sword, threatening the group that dare get between his pack and their feast.

"Hand over the meat-sack. My pack has rights to that kill and I'll fight every one of you prissy ass mages who gets in my-"

The sky went black in seconds, as if night had suddenly fallen over the woods, but instead of stars only rolling storm clouds could be seen. Lighting leaping between the masses of black oily cotton in a sickening green that churned the stomach of the foolish wolves. Hunters now turned hunted as power electrified the very air and stones began to quake in the very presence of rage defined.

Words were not needed, not anymore. They would only be wasted on fools such as this. Filth that sought to take what was not theirs and dare call Malleus' beloved (Y/n) something as demeaning as a 'meat-sack' and a 'kill' as if they had rights to feast upon you like savage Ferals.

No.

No, Malleus would not stand for such blatant disrespect to his Hoard and himself. Punishment would be delivered and it would be by Malleus' hands. They were going to wish he had used his magic.

"Wha-"

"You will not speak. We are leaving the area immediately. Walking, not running. We don't need to draw his attention."

Leona was silenced by a hand over his mouth as Lilia gathered up Grim with his wings, covering him with his jacket and handing the little cub into Silver's arms. Sebek was quick to get the wounded Human up onto Silver's back, climbing on himself to keep her secure on the Reindeer. Lilia spoke in a hushed tone to the Lion as his fellow dorm members worked as quietly as possible to not earn the ire of the beast before them.

Leona found himself unable to disobey the enigmatic old Fae and knew he must have used some kind of magic to hold the Lion to his commands. The ground rumbled as the sound of a true terror escaping their secondary skin to show the beast that lurked beneath. Many of Malleus' features hinted at his true Draconic form, from his long tail to his twin horns and wings, the full Dragon was still a very different beast.

The pure magic in the air was almost as difficult to breathe in as smoke. Once confident snarls turning to yelps and whines of genuine terror as the foolish wolves realized just how outclassed they were.

Lilia stayed alongside Silver as Leona took up the other side, moving with them even as he craned his neck to stare behind him at the Dragon in the flesh. Black scales glinted in the light, green lightning spewing from the sky as the elongated fang filled maw of the beast snapped around the fleeing figures. Maybe he was considered one of the most powerful mages in the world for a reason, and he wasn't even using magic at that moment.

"Lilia, what if his majesty needs us-?"

"We need to get her back to Night Raven, then we can work on calming Malleus if his temper tantrum doesn't burn him out before she wakes. She still isn't okay and we need to let the others know what happened. All we can do now is leave for our own safety and hers."

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER THREE

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🤍 pairing: theodore nott x reader.

🤍 song inspiration: so hot you're hurting my feelings by caroline polachek.

🤍 author’s note: just like the temperature, things are heating up in this fic.

Step 3 of Pansy Parkinson’s Perfect Plan of Plotting

Jealousy — : The feeling of resentment, bitterness, or hostility toward someone because they have something that you don’t.

You would think that putting my two idiot friends together in the honeymoon suite and then sending them off to the literal temple of love would force them to face their feelings, but Theo and Y/N are proving to be more stubborn than I gave them credit for. Fear not, though. Through the scheming and plotting, I found an unlikely ally. Imagine my surprise when Mattheo Riddle helped concoct my most devious plan of all. Throw in a romantic vineyard, an abundance of wine, and a few lingering gazes from a hot tour guide and what do you get? A very jealous Theodore Nott. 

Third Year, Hogsmeade Village

The snow fell softly over Hogsmeade Village, covering the streets and storefronts in glittering white. Amidst the bustling crowds, you chattered excitedly as you tugged Theo along the cobblestone square. There was so much to see during your first visit to Hogsmeade and you didn’t want to waste a single second. 

“Slow down, bella.” Theo said as he tucked you to his side. “We have all afternoon to explore.” 

“Sorry, Teddy,” you said shyly. “I’m just so excited.” 

With a smile, Theo tugged the ends of your green and silver scarf and bound it tightly to keep you warm. “How about we make a loop around High Street and finish off with a warm mug of butterbeeer?” 

You beamed. “That’s perfect.” 

The first stop in the long line of shops was Honeydukes. Inside, you marveled at the colorful candies and browsed through the aisles stocked with Peppermint Toads, Fudge Flies, and Jelly Slugs. Beside you, Theo happily snatched up any free samples offered. The two of you toasted your Fizzing Whizbees before biting into the fruity chocolate. 

You giggled as strawberry syrup dribbled down Theo’s chin. He flushed and attempted to brush off the mess with the back of his hand. 

“A little more to the right,” you instructed. Theo swiped at his left. “No, my right.” He cocked his head, clearly confused. “Here, let me.”  

You waved his hand off before licking your thumb and swiping the strawberry sauce off his face. The tips of Theo’s ears turned bright red as he smiled shyly. “Thanks, fragolina.”

After purchasing a mountain of sweets, the two of you made your way down the next few storefronts. Theo insisted on popping into Spintwitches to purchase new quidditch gloves. 

“Are you excited for your first game?” you asked as he slipped on a pair of dragonhide gloves. 

“You could say that,” your best friend answered rather aloofly. He fidgeted with the straps of the gloves, impatiently tapping his fingers against the scales. 

You placed your hand above Theo’s, soothing his nervous movements. “You should be excited, Teddy. You’re going to kick Hufflepuff arse.” 

Theo snorted. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say arse.” 

“It’s the company I keep,” you teased. “I’m afraid my best friend has a mouth that would make a sailor blush. He’s a terrible influence, really. But a bloody good quidditch player.” 

“Two in a row?” Theo taunted. “You’re on a roll, Y/N. I appreciate your faith in me, though. I suppose I have to win now, huh? Wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the entire school.” 

“You’re gonna do great, Theo.” 

“Only if I have my lucky charm there,” he said with a wink. “You’ll be in the stands cheering me on, right?” 

You squeezed his hand. “Of course I will.” 

Theo grinned and squeezed back. “A word of advice, though? Don’t get the gloves. They look like dried dragon bollocks.” 

At that, Theo tipped his head back and laughed. You burst into a fit of giggles as he chased you through the aisles, swatting at you with the gloves. Alerted by the commotion, the shopkeeper rounded the corner and bellowed at you to stop. Throwing caution to the wind, Theo dropped the gloves and tugged you through the door, his cheeks red and flushed as the two of you spilled out into the snowy street. 

“Where to next, bella? Before that old geezer clubs us over the head with his mop.” 

“This way,” you said confidently, dodging through the crowd. A few people muttered their discontent, but you were too busy laughing and ducking into your safe haven to take notice. 

The fragrant aroma of freshly brewed tea greeted you as soon as you walked through the door. Theo followed close behind, grimacing at the pastel pink walls and frilly lace that covered every table. While you were aware that Madam Puddifoot’s was an establishment frequented by couples, you weren’t quite prepared for the overwhelmingly romantic undertone of the entire place. Each table seated couples of all kinds, some talking, some sipping their tea, while the bolder ones simply kissed like they were the only people in the room. 

“It’s a bit stuffy in here, isn’t it?” you mumbled as you loosened the scarf around your neck. 

Theo cleared his throat, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. “Hm, yeah. Just a bit.” He averted his gaze from the couple, his cheeks just as flushed as yours felt. “Did you want to…I mean…we could…” 

“Yeah, we should. Look around. Browse.” 

“Right.” 

Clearly, the two of you were unprepared for this sort of situation. You knew that your fellow classmates were beginning to explore dating. Hell, you and Pansy even helped Blaise pick out an outfit for his date with Astoria last week, but that had all been hypothetical. This was the real thing. 

In all honesty, you hadn’t given dating much thought. You liked things the way they were. If you were to get yourself a boyfriend, it would mean less time for your friends. Less time with Theo. The thought alone deterred you from even trying. 

As you pretended to browse the tea section, you stole glances at your best friend. You wondered if Theo fancied anyone. If he did, he never said, despite the fact that Mattheo and Enzo managed to have a new crush each week. Perhaps Theo was just more private when it came to matters of the heart. Although, you were sure that he would’ve at least told you. There were no secrets between the two of you. Right?

“Bella?” Theo asked as he waved his hand in front of you. “Are you alright?” 

You nodded, bobbing your head so fast that the motion nearly took your beanie clean off. “Sorry. What were you saying?” 

“I’m going to pop into the loo for a second. Wait for me here, okay?” 

“Sure, Theo.” 

You watched as Theo weaved through the aisles, smiling softly as he looked back at you. A group of girls giggled as he passed by, whispering amongst themselves. Objectively, you knew that your best friend was attractive. Even as a third year, Theo towered over your peers. Combine that with his perpetually messy waves and piercing eyes, it wasn’t hard to see why your classmates swooned over him. 

Surely, Theo was aware of the effect he had on people. It was impossible to ignore all the sighs and glances the girls shot his way, but he seemed immune to the attention. Instead, he glanced back and flashed you a lopsided grin. The gesture was so boyish and earnest, a signature Theo smile that few were privy to. Suddenly, the thought of him keeping anything from you seemed so silly. 

Flustered, you turned away and pretended to browse through the shelves. The tea labels all blurred together as you made your way down the aisle. You were more of a coffee person anyways. 

“That’s a great choice.” You startled to find an older boy speaking to you, pointing at the tea packets you were absentmindedly parsing through. “Chamomile always helps me feel calm.” 

Diggory, you thought. You remembered seeing his jersey flash by in a blur during one of the quidditch games you attended. Cedric was a few years older than you, but it didn’t stop the girls from your grade from having a crush on him. 

“Y/N, isn’t it? You’re in Slytherin.”

“How do you know that?” 

Cedric flashed you a charming smile. “The scarf was a good hint, but I’ve seen you around. You were at the last quidditch game.” 

You nodded in confirmation. “Your team played well against the Ravenclaws.” 

“Are you a big fan of the game?” 

“Not intentionally,” you replied. “My best friend is a diehard Roman Redcaps fan, so I’ve been to a handful of games. I’m mostly there for the cotton candy, though.” 

Cedric chuckled. “We have that in common. Unfortunately, there won’t be any cotton candy at next week’s game, but perhaps your presence will be sweet enough.” 

You bristled, taken aback by his boldness. Was he flirting with you? Surely not. “I’ll be there, but I’m afraid we’ll be enemies out on that field.” 

“Hopefully not off the field, though.” 

So he was flirting. You stared at the older boy, trying to see him from your fellow peer’s perspective. Cedric was classically handsome, no one could deny that. He certainly knew how to wield that charming smile, but it had absolutely no effect on you. 

“Diggory,” said a stern voice.

Theo returned to your side, looking a bit put off. He angled himself in front of you, putting space between you and Cedric. 

“Oh, hey, Teddy. Cedric and I were just having a little chat about the upcoming game.” 

Cedric nodded. “I assume you’re the Roman Redcaps friend that Y/N was talking about.” 

“Best friend,” Theo corrected. You shot him a confused look as he glared at Cedric.

The older boy raised an amused brow. “You just made chaser, right? Looks like congratulations are in order, mate.” 

“Thanks, mate,” Theo replied in a mocking tone. He turned to you, impatience written all over his face. “Are you ready for that butterbeer, bella?” 

You nodded slowly, baffled by your best friend’s behavior. Perhaps it was just some strange sports rivalry peacocking that you didn’t quite understand. 

“Sure, Teddy.” 

You said goodbye to Cedric, much to Theo’s annoyance. He had no parting words for the Hufflepuff, choosing instead to be a menacing presence at your side. For Salazar’s sake, he was taking house rivalry way too seriously. 

“I’ll see you at the game, Y/N.” 

Before you could answer, Theo grabbed your hand and stared Cedric down. “You will. She’ll be sitting in the Slytherin stands wearing my jersey. Hard to miss with my last name on her back. Later, Diggory.”

Day Three, The Sunflower Vineyard

The Sunflower Vineyard was a wonder to behold. Located at the edge of town, the charming estate stretched out for miles and miles in the Italian countryside, comprising a sprawling three story villa, fertile farmland that housed rows and rows of grape vines, and a magical greenhouse that boasted rare and unusual plants. 

Usually closed to the public, the matriarch of the Martino family welcomed you within the gates of her vineyard as a gesture of goodwill to one of her oldest and dearest friends. Needless to say, Nonna was adamant that none of you were to embarrass her under any circumstances. While she spoke to the entire group, everyone knew that the message was targeted towards Mattheo who nodded absentmindedly at the warning. 

The car arrived at the villa right after lunch and brought you to the vineyard. Theo grumbled about wanting to drive, but you reminded him that there wouldn’t have been room for everyone in the baby blue convertible. When you finally pulled up to the vineyard, his annoyance was all but forgotten. 

The gilded gates parted open as you peered at the rolling hills that extended far beyond your sight. True to its namesake, sunflowers dotted the vineyard and painted the landscape with bright shades of yellow. You gaped at the stalks, some of them taller than you. 

As you slowed to a stop, the villa loomed overhead. The property was massive, its huge windows overlooking the front lawn. The neatly trimmed hedges curved in the shape of the driveway and framed the marble fountain, which faced the massive wooden doors of the villa. When the driver escorted you out of the car, a tall and tan brunette with bright hazel eyes greeted your group at the steps. 

“Welcome to the Sunflower Vineyard,” the man greeted. “My name is Dante. My grandmother and I are pleased to have you as our guest. Since it is a rare occasion for the vineyard to have visitors, she entrusted me to give you the grand tour.” 

As the self-appointed leader of the group, Pansy took on the task of introducing everyone. “Lovely to meet you, Dante. My name is Pansy. This is Enzo, Draco, Blaise, and Mattheo.” 

The boys politely shook Dante’s hand. Pansy moved on to introduce you and Theo, but Dante stopped short at the sight of you. 

“And who might you be?” 

“Y/N,” you supplied, shaking his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

Dante smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss on your knuckles. “The pleasure is mine, bella.” 

“Now that we’re all acquainted,” Theo interrupted, staring down at Dante. He seemed rather unimpressed by your appointed tour guide. “Shall we start?” 

“You must be Theodore.” 

“I prefer Mr. Nott,” your best friend replied with an edge to his voice. Pansy elbowed him, which caused Theo to roll his eyes. “But I suppose you can call me Theo.” 

Dante laughed. “Grandmother said you were quite the joker.” 

“That’s me. A certified clown.” Theo wedged himself between you and Dante, positioning you beside him instead. With an arm around your waist, he nodded towards the wooden doors. “Lead the way, Dante.” 

Unperturbed, Dante began the tour with a walk through the villa. The inside was bright and spacious, filled with expensive paintings and artifacts that were older than you. Rich tapestries and ornate furniture decorated the house, but each room you peered into seemed pristine and untouched, so unlike Theo’s ancestral home, which you adored for its coziness and charm. Still, the place held much history. 

The Martinos were an influential family. Their empire dated centuries back, supplying wine to dynasties and diplomats. A fact that Dante was proud to declare. 

“We even served Vicência Santos while she was still Minister of Magic.” 

You perked up at that. Vicência had led the Brazilian Ministry for nearly two decades before becoming the first witch to be appointed as Supreme Mugwump. From the moment you learned about her in History of Magic in fourth year, you idolized Vicência and hoped to follow her career path leading the International Confederation of Wizards.

“What was she like?” 

“Brilliant, courageous, and a little bit scary as well. I remember hiding behind my grandmother’s skirts every time she visited the vineyard.” 

“Did she ever speak of the walk with the Qilin? Or her time as headmistress of Castelobruxo? Or how she dealt with the Bulgarian conflict during her first year as minister?”

Dante smiled. “We’ve got a fan, I see.” 

“Y/N is studying International Law at Oxford in the fall,” Theo said haughtily. “Of course she’s well-versed when it comes to Vicência’s accomplishments. She’s going to be an even better Supreme Mugwump when the time comes.”

You flushed at the proclamation. “If the time comes. I’ll have to do well in my studies first.” 

“I don’t doubt that you will,” Dante said with a smile. “In any case, I’ll be sure to cast my vote when your name is on the ballot.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “Supreme Mugwumps are elected by the Confederation, not civilians.” 

“Still,” you hedged, shooting Theo a bewildered glance. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

Despite the obvious tension, no one else seemed to pay the conversation any mind. The other boys were politely nodding, but you could tell by the way that their eyes glazed over that you had about ten minutes at best before they started growing restless. 

“Would you mind showing us the greenhouse?” You interjected, eyeing Pansy who was one eye twitch away from smacking Enzo all the way back to London for touching the fragile art. 

Luckily, your tour guide was more than eager to lead you to the sprawling gardens located at the back of the villa. The fresh air and sunshine seemed to calm the boys as they happily strolled through the path that snaked around the edge of the massive swimming pool. Tucked at the corner of the property, the greenhouse glinted in the sunlight. It reminded you of the one at Hogwarts where your Herbology class was usually held. 

Dante showed you the assortment of plants they were growing, the variety of which would’ve inspired Longbottom’s envy. Among them were Devil’s Snare, Venomous Tentacula, and Aconite, which you knew for a fact sold for a pretty galleon in the black market. Pansy warned Mattheo not to touch any of them and the curly headed boy pouted in response, sticking his tongue out when her back was turned. 

You turned to catch Theo’s attention, but he was too busy glaring at your tour guide who seemed none the wiser to the animosity. After a brief tour, Dante gave you free leave of the greenhouse and excused himself to check on things inside the villa. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pansy released a sigh. 

“For fuck’s sake, Draco.” The witch scolded as she tugged the blonde down from a wooden cart. “Get off the damn cart and put away that bloody electronic square.” 

Draco frowned as he repeatedly tapped at the mobile in his hands. Hermione had given it to him before the trip, after much despairing on Draco’s part that he wouldn’t be able to speak to his girlfriend for an entire week. Never mind that they would be spending the next four years at Cambridge together. 

You decided to take a softer approach and patted Draco on the back. “I don’t think there’s service out here, Dray.” 

Your friend sighed exasperatedly. “I told Hermione I’d check in every day. We haven’t texted since last night. She’s been so busy with her internship.” 

“Aw, is our little loverboy feeling lonely?” mocked Mattheo. 

Just as you glared at the brunette, Theo smacked Mattheo over the head. You gave him a grateful smile before consoling Draco. “Ignore him. Dante said that we were more than welcome to the flowers in bloom, so why don’t you pick some out for Mione? When we get back to the villa, I’ll teach you how to press them and you can make the dried flowers into a present for her.” 

At that, Draco brightened. “That’s a great idea, Y/N. Will you show me how to make a bookmark out of the flowers?” 

You smiled, touched by your friend’s thoughtfulness. “Even better! Hermione will love it.” 

“Thanks for being helpful,” Draco said, leveling an accusatory glance at Pansy that she wholeheartedly ignored. He kissed your cheek and beamed. “I’d better get started then.” 

As Draco thoroughly examined the flowers in the greenhouse, Theo chuckled. “I never thought I’d bear witness to a Malfoy performing manual labor.” 

You cocked your head at Draco, who leaned down to pluck a daisy. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You do?” 

“Of course,” you replied. “What girl doesn’t love receiving flowers?” 

While Theo absorbed that information, Dante returned to escort you to where the wine tasting would be held. The boys eagerly followed, seduced by the mere mention of alcohol. As Dante led the group to the second floor of the villa, Theo kept a hand on the small of your back. 

“These stairs are slippery,” he explained, leaning in to support you. “Wouldn’t want you to slip, bella.” 

You murmured your thanks, swallowing thickly as Theo moved his hand to rest on your hip. The heat radiating off of him seared your skin more than the summer sunshine. At the head of the staircase, Dante offered you his arm. 

“The last step is a little tricky,” he said after he assisted Pansy across the rickety step. 

Theo tightened his grip on your hip, holding you in place. “It’s alright, I’ve got her.” 

Dante cleared the last step just as Theo swept you off your feet, picking you up bridal style. You yelped in surprise, encircling your arms around your best friend’s neck as he carried you to the balcony like you weighed nothing. Behind Dante, Pansy raised an inquisitive brow. She was definitely going to bring this up later. 

You glanced up at Theo, cleaning your throat. “You can put me down now, Teddy.” 

“You sure, Y/N? I’d be more than happy to carry you to your seat.” 

“There’s no need for that,” you interjected, stumbling over your words as your cheeks heated. Everyone else was waiting on the two of you, watching the scene unravel with varying degrees of amusement. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.” 

Theo smirked before gently setting you down. “Suit yourself.” 

Ignoring your friend’s curious glances, you stepped out onto the spacious balcony and marveled at the spread that had been laid out for you. The mahogany table resembled an overgrown charcuterie board, filled with expensive cheese, fresh slices of meat, and ripe fruit. Each of your names were written on place cards, the cursive handwriting just as luxurious and elegant as the bottles of wine sitting on the center of the table. 

The boys spread out amongst themselves as Dante explained the different vintages that would be presented to you today. Beside you, Theo took a handful of crackers and spread brie and fig jam on them. He lifted one towards you, drizzling it with a bit of honey. 

“Want a bite?” he asked cheekily. You nodded and reached out for the cracker. Theo shook his head and pulled it out of your reach. “Open up, bella.” 

“What?” 

“I’ll feed it to you so you don’t get your fingers all sticky. I know you hate the feeling.” 

“Um — sure — yeah. I guess that makes sense.” 

Theo smiled in satisfaction as he brought the cracker to your mouth. His fingers brushed your lips as you took a generous bite. The honey dripped down your chin, but Theo wiped it before it could stain your dress. You were about to thank him for the save, but then he licked the honey off of his thumb and suddenly the words escaped you. 

Flustered, you murmured something unintelligible before turning your attention back to Dante’s presentation. He was in the midst of explaining the importance of the fermentation process, but none of it truly registered if you were being honest. When he finally directed you to taste the first sample, you nearly drained the entire thing in one gulp. 

Beside you, Theo took a much more dignified approach. He always joked that cooking and drinking were the two things that he was better at than you were. You were inclined to agree. Nonna trained him to have an impeccable taste for wine. Theo swirled his wine glass, examining the color and clarity of the liquid. He inhaled its sweet fragrance, describing the different notes to you in hushed tones, like it was a secret between the two of you. 

“Primitivo,” Theo murmured, his lips stained with crimson. “This wine is from Puglia. A 1945 preserve. Because of the type of grape it comes from, the flavor is deep and rich. Back in the day, they used to believe that red wine was an aphrodisiac.” His eyes shimmered with mischief as he spoke. “Tasting it now, it certainly has a certain seduction.” 

You blinked, twisting your emerald ring as Theo stared at you intently. It seemed impossible to be drunk off of one glass, but you couldn’t deny that his gaze made you feel intoxicated. Seeing your best friend in his element was definitely doing strange things to your mind. 

From the head of the table, Dante smiled. “That’s correct. This bottle is from one of our sister vineyards in Puglia. You’ve got quite the taste for wine, Theo.” 

“I’d expect nothing more from Serafina’s grandson.” 

The matriarch of the Martino family floated through the balcony, the hem of her elegant burgundy dress brushing the marble floor. Her white hair and dark eyes were a stark contrast, but her smile was warm and welcoming. Theo greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks. 

“Ciao, Rafaela,” Theo drawled as he flashed her a charming smile. “Grazie per averci.” 

“The pleasure is mine, Theodore.” Rafaela surveyed the group, leveling your friends with scrutiny. Fortunately, you had plenty of experience winning over tough, Italian grandmothers. “These must be your friends.” 

The boys introduced themselves, giving Rafaela the customary cheek kisses. She pinched Enzo’s cheek, which made Mattheo snort beside him. Pansy cut the curly headed boy a glare, but the old matron seemed pleased by their mischievous display. Rafaela assessed the proud tilt of Pansy’s chin, smiling as if in approval of your friend’s steel. Last, but not least, Rafaela turned her attention to you. 

“You must be Theodore’s girlfriend.” 

Before you could correct her, Theo interrupted. “Rafaela, meet Y/N. I’m sure Nonna’s told you all about her.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Martino,” you said shyly. “Thank you for welcoming us into your lovely home.” 

“Beautiful and well-spoken,” Rafaela observed. “No wonder Serafina is eager to add you into the family. The two of you make a beautiful couple.” 

“Theo and I aren’t actually —”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Theo interjected as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “We are quite good together, aren’t we, bella?” 

All around you, your friends barely managed to keep their composure. Pansy smirked while Mattheo wiggled his eyebrows. Blaise and Draco exchanged a look, leaving Enzo to stare in confusion. You managed a nod as Theo smiled smugly at Dante. 

“I will leave you to it,” Rafeala said after a moment. “Be sure to visit the sunflower field, it’s quite romantic while the flowers are in bloom.” She smiled slyly at you and Theo. “Give Serafina my regards.” 

After the strange encounter, you kept sneaking glances at Theo. He was definitely acting weird today. You just couldn’t figure out why. 

Still, you tried not to ponder it too long, choosing instead to focus on the rest of the wine tasting. As the drinks flowed, the afternoon passed by in a blur. While you thought you knew what to expect from the strong wines, you quickly realized that you were ill-prepared. The alcohol quickly crept up on you. The sweetness of the wine masked its strength, putting you under the false guise of sobriety. By the time the last bottle was served, you were well and truly sloshed. 

“Are you alright, fragolina?” Theo asked. “Or am I going to have to carry you again?”

You shook your head, determined to hold your own. “I’m prine.” 

“Prine?” 

“Perfectly fine.” 

Theo bit back a smirk. You rolled your eyes before wobbling out of your seat. “Now let’s go see some bloody sunflowers.”

How you managed to make your way downstairs without toppling over, you had no idea. The only thing that brought you comfort was that you were hardly the most drunk out of the group. The rest of your friends weren’t faring any better, except Theo. An Italian knew how to handle their wine. It was in his blood, or so he said.

Ahead of you, the boys giggled and stumbled over their own feet like teenagers who had snuck a bottle out of their parent’s liquor cabinet. Pansy behaved with a little more decorum, but judging from her glassy gaze and flushed cheeks, she felt the effects of the wine more than she let on. 

As Dante led your group toward the sunflower fields, your friends were barely holding it together. Enzo blinked sleepily, rubbing his eyes while he swayed on his feet. Mattheo kept bumping into the tall stalks. Draco and Blaise had long given up, choosing instead to wait in the car. 

“These sunflowers were planted here over a century ago by my great-grandfather, Stefano. Before he built his fortune, he worked this very same field as a farm hand where he met my great-grandmother. Valentina was a merchant’s daughter and way above Stefano's station, but that didn’t stop them from falling in love. When her father discovered their relationship, he disowned her. It was hard for Valentina, but Stefano promised her that he would restore all that she had lost. My great-grandfather worked hard to fulfill that promise. After their second child, he surprised Valentina with the sunflower field, where he would go on to build a beautiful home for her.” 

“How romantic,” you breathed. 

“Indeed, it is something out of a story book,” Dante said with a smile. His gaze flickered to yours as he spoke. “One day, I hope to find a love like Stefano’s and Valentina’s.” 

“Keep hoping,” Theo muttered under his breath. You elbowed him for the sarcastic remark. “What? It’s good to be optimistic. I’m sure you’ll find a nice girl to settle down with. Preferably one from town and not anywhere else.” 

Luckily, Dante took no offense. Without missing a beat, he kept regaling the group with tales of Stefano and Valentina. While your friends were distracted, you tugged Theo towards the back of the greenhouse. 

“What are you doing?” Theo asked. “We’re going to miss out on Stefano and Valentina’s great love story. Our tour guide would loathe not being the center of your attention.” 

You didn’t miss the sarcastic tone that dripped from his words. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“You know what.” 

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that, bella.” 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you scolded. “What’s with all the hostility? Dante’s been nothing but gracious to us.” 

“Gracious,” he repeated, dragging out the word. “Yes, I suppose flirting with a taken woman is a very gracious thing to do.” 

“But I’m not taken.” 

“Dante doesn’t know that! Nonna told him we were dating, so hypothetically, he has no business flirting with you. It’s way out of line.” 

“And you being outright rude to him isn’t?” 

Theo crossed his arms. “Why do you care if I’m rude to him?”

“Because, dumbass, snubbing the grandson of one of your grandmother’s most loyal friends, not to mention business partner, is entirely idiotic. Especially when you’re both likely to inherit the family business, which means you’ll have to eventually work together.” 

“Oh,” Theo said, blinking in surprise. “So you were being nice to him because I might have to conduct business with him in the future? Not because you like him, but because it’ll be good for me in the long run?” 

“Obviously, but you seem hell bent on making an enemy out of him.”

“Only because I thought he was hitting on you!” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You should’ve known that Dante’s compliments would trigger this whole overprotective best friend nonsense. For years, Theo had held the opinion that no member of the opposite sex would ever be good enough for you. He was convinced that every guy had ill intentions towards you, but he’d never been quite this far off the mark. 

“I highly doubt it, given the fact that I’m not Dante’s type.” 

“How do you know that?”

“He’s checked out Enzo’s arse at least three times in the past hour.” You nodded towards the group, catching Dante in the midst of flashing a flirtatious smile at a completely oblivious Lorenzo. “Trust me when I say that Berkshire stands a better chance of catching our host’s interest than I do.” 

Theo’s eyes widened. With a sheepish smile, he rocked back on his feet and scratched the back of his neck. “I’m an idiot.” 

“A little,” you respond with a sigh. “But unfortunately, you’re also my best friend, which means I have a responsibility to save you from making a fool out of yourself.”

“This is why you’re the genius in this friendship, not me.” 

You scoffed. “You weren’t exactly the brightest crayon in the box today.” 

“Hey!” Your best friend protested. “That’s mean!” 

“The truth hurts, Theodore.” 

“Now you’re full naming me?” 

Emboldened by the wine, you held your chin high as though you weren’t craning your neck to the point of pain just to look up at him. With a smirk, you delivered the final blow. “What are you going to do about it, Theodore?” 

You emphasized each syllable of his name with a poke, prodding at his chest as he frowned. The challenge hung between you, charging the air with tension. Theo was quick to react, flipping you over until your back hit the wall of the greenhouse. With a smug smirk, Theo pinned your wrists on either side of your head. 

The sudden switch knocked the breath out of your lung, making you feel dizzy and lightheaded. Theo was so close that you could smell the wine on his breath. As you looked up, the sunshine crowned him in gold, highlighting his freckles and flushed cheeks. The baby blue color of his linen shirt matched his eyes, bright and alluring while he stared down at you. You held your breath as his gaze dipped down to your mouth, licking his lips instinctively. 

“Bella,” Theo murmured, his voice deep and rich like the wine swimming in your veins. 

A rustling sound snapped you out of your reverie. Dante appeared before you, pausing when he caught sight of your compromising position. 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

You scrambled backwards, flushing deeply. “No, we were — we were just heading back.” 

Your tour guide muttered a quick apology before he scampered off. Theo barely spared Dante a glance, his focus fixed solely on you. His gaze flickered to your lips once more before he slowly released your wrists. As Dante ran off, you groaned. 

“Now look at what you’ve done,” you said, pressing the back of your hand up to your forehead. Was it just you or was it hot all of a sudden? “Dante’s going to think we were up to no good.” 

“We’re always up to no good.” 

“Not helping!” 

“I’m sorry, bella,” Theo said in a soft, sincere tone. “For being rude to Dante. For acting like an absolute idiot all day. I promise I’ll apologize to our host for my behavior, but I need my best girl to forgive me first.” 

Your best friend stepped closer and summoned a bouquet of sunflowers. He plucked a bloom before tucking it into your hair and smiling. “They say that sunflowers face wherever the sunshine is. I suppose that’s why I’m always looking at you.” 

Flushed, you shyly accepted the bright yellow flowers. “How could I possibly stay mad after that?” 

“You can’t,” Theo said with a wink. “It’s part of my poetic charm.” 

“Twat,” you replied with a scoff. “But really, these are lovely. Thank you, Teddy. Consider yourself forgiven.” 

He beamed and linked your fingers together, twisting your emerald ring out of habit. “I’m glad. Now I’m off to right my wrongs with Dante. Though now that I think about it, I’m a little offended that he’d choose to objectify Enzo over me.” 

“Your ego really knows no bounds, does it?” 

“Of course not,” Theo drawled as he flashed you a cheeky smile. “That’s why you’re here to keep me in check.” 

“Then if you really must know, Berkshire totally has a cuter butt than you.” 

“You take that back, Y/N!”

[bloodstainedsapphic]

festivals

short and sweet for week 4 of the jinxed july challenge. thank you to everyone who participated! it has been fun to read a whole lot of summery content! 1k words | fluff, fluff, corny fluff | f! reader

The Hogsmeade summer festival, already a wonder in the wizarding world, becomes even more enchanting as evening falls. The warm night air is filled with the scent of butterbeer and sweets, while charmed string lights cast a magical glow over bustling stalls, games, and laughing crowds. Despite the captivating atmosphere, you barely notice; your attention is fixed on a claw machine you discovered in an arcade tent.

Bested twice already, you fume as you take your third spin at it. It feels a bit embarrassing to be so invested in a simple game, but no one can convince you that this contraption wasn't built just to test your patience.

The machine, clearly past its prime, still holds a certain nostalgic charm. It features color-shifting bulbs and a faded red joystick, which stands as evidence that countless players have already tried their hand at winning one of the elusive toys inside. Its glass case houses an array of plush magical creatures such as puffskeins, nifflers, hippogriffs, and dragons that seem so close yet infuriatingly out of reach. You nearly drop a niffler into the exit chute, but the wretched crane swings it a bit off the mark, leaving you toyless once again.

"Bloody hell," you growl, barely restraining yourself from kicking the machine. None of its charming aura matters at the moment; it is lucky you haven't blasted it to a million pieces. You irritably clasp the joystick for a fourth attempt when suddenly, a large, rugged hand encloses yours to prevent another try.

"Need some help, love?" asks Mattheo Riddle, a classmate you've been flirting with for months. The smirk on his face as he gives you a once-over which would have made your knees buckle if you weren't so miffed. "I can show you how its done."

Too stubborn to let him try at first, you glance at the machine for any excuse. "It's no use, I reckon. I bet it's broken. Maybe someone's even jinxed it, a damn shame."

Of course, he saw through it and chuckled. "Maybe you're just not cut out for claw machines, love. Let me have a go at it."

Every fiber of your competitive spirit urges you to protest, to prove him wrong. But the way his thumb brushes lightly over your wrist and the magnetic pull of his gaze convinces you to relent. With a reluctant sigh, you slide your hand from the joystick and step aside to become an unenthusiastic spectator.

Mattheo takes control of the joystick with confident ease, the claw machine's colorful lights washing over him. He must have felt unusually chipper this evening because he switched up his typical all-black outfit by adding a worn jean jacket. It suits him rather nicely, especially when combined with his dark brown curls, which have grown to an unruly length. Even the cigarettes tucked into his front jacket pocket and the cuts on his knuckles add to his dreamy bad-boy look.

He focuses intently on smoothly maneuvering the claw, his tongue poking out slightly as he becomes lost in concentration. You watch, somewhat impressed but mostly annoyed as Mattheo scoops up a toy and guides it to the chute. He gleams with satisfaction as he snags the puffskein plushie you had been aiming for.

Mattheo shows off the prize triumphantly, his eyes sparkling brighter than the festive lights above as he playfully holds the victory over you. If he weren't boasting at your expense, you would find him cute as hell in this instant. Hell, maybe you still do. That is, until he lifts the toy above his head as soon as you reach for it.

"Is that how little you think of me? Do you really think I'd snatch it?" You ask, feigning innocence over his defensiveness. Sure, you were trying to nab it, but maybe you just want a closer look at the adorable toy.

"Let's not risk tearing apart the precious stuffie," Mattheo teases, waving it even further out of your reach. He extends his other hand in front of you, gently stopping your advances.

"Tell you what," he proposes, a grin spreading across his face, "Come get ice cream with me, and you get to go home with the stuffie."

You pause, tilting your head as you study him quizzically. "Are you seriously leveraging the stuffie to turn this into a date?"

"That I am. If this little puffball is what it takes to finally get you on an actual date with me, then so be it," Mattheo replies earnestly.

Your heart flutters at Mattheo's surprising forwardness. Sure, the flirting isn't new, but this chance to take things a step further with him was a lot to take in. Thankfully, you were more than ready to accept it with one condition.

"Alright, deal. As long as we stop by a few more games so I can kick your arse," you agree to the terms, much to Mattheo's delight.

As you step to his side and loop your arm through his, he hands you the puffskein plushie to hold. For him, having you by his side is the greatest win of the evening, and you are inclined to agree that being with Mattheo (and still getting the stuffie) is a pretty sweet victory.

[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 2)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Thank you so much for the love on the last post! Any more nice words and i might fall in love with yous ngl. Hope you enjoy.

Masterlist | Previous Part | Next Part

The days after the royal feast were dripping with tension, as Jacaerys Velaryon and Lady Y/N Hightower found themselves annoyingly entangled in each other's company far more often than either would have liked. This, of course, was all part of Queen Rhaenyra's grand plan—a delicate little game of matchmaking disguised as diplomacy. She had hoped that a few shared walks and awkward conversations might bridge the bloody, betrayal-riddled chasm between their families. But, alas, Rhaenyra had sorely misjudged the depth of their mutual disdain. Every word they exchanged was polite, sure, but underneath the civility, each syllable was laced with the venom of old grudges neither of them could pretend to forget.

Their favoured meeting spot became the Red Keep’s gardens—a lovely place, in theory. It should have offered peace, with its fragrant blooms of roses and jasmine filling the air, but even the most enchanting flowers couldn’t mask the simmering hostility between them. One fine afternoon, under a deceptively serene, bright blue sky, they strolled side by side, their pace deliberate, every step as calculated as the sharp words lingering on their tongues.

Jacaerys had been brooding in silence for most of their walk, clearly troubled, stealing glances at Y/N when he thought she wasn’t looking. She, of course, was the picture of composure, but the tightness in her jaw and the rigid set of her shoulders betrayed the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. Eventually, Jacaerys couldn’t keep it in any longer. His voice, low and brimming with resentment, cut through the silence like a blade.

"I wonder," he began, his gaze steady and unflinching, "do you feel any guilt for what your family did? For nearly spilling blood in their attempt to steal my mother’s throne?"

Oh, and there it was—the blow he’d been itching to land, his accusation hanging between them like the sword of Damocles. Y/N’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but she didn’t avert her gaze. No, she was prepared for this—had seen it coming from a mile away, even if it stung just the same.

"I am not my father, Prince Jacaerys," she replied, her tone measured, though the steel in her voice was unmistakable. "And I am not responsible for his choices."

Diplomatic, perhaps, but Jacaerys wasn’t fooled. He heard the defensiveness in her words, a shield hastily raised against the guilt he wanted to drape over her shoulders. He stopped walking, turning to face her fully, brow furrowed as he pressed on.

“Yet here you are, sent in his stead to smooth over the wounds he created. How am I to trust you? How do I know this isn’t just another Hightower plot to weaken my family?”

The question hit like a punch to the gut—raw, accusatory. Y/N’s carefully crafted mask of composure slipped, just for a moment, and anger flashed in her eyes. She had anticipated this confrontation, sure, but that didn’t mean it was any easier to swallow. Even so, her voice remained controlled, though it quivered ever so slightly with emotion.

"I came here for peace, not to reopen old wounds," she shot back, her tone firm but not harsh. "My family’s past is far from clean, I won’t deny that. But I’m not here to repeat those mistakes. This marriage could mend the rift between our houses if you’d stop seeing me as the enemy."

Her words were sincere, yet Jacaerys couldn’t easily brush aside the memories of war, treachery, and all the chaos that followed. The Hightowers had nearly torn his family—and the realm—apart. The pain was still fresh, the betrayal too sharp, too real. His mind flashed back to the darkest days of the conflict, when every move felt like a step closer to the abyss, and the crown was slipping through his mother’s fingers.

He halted again, turning to look at her fully, his voice quieter now but still strained with the weight of his past. "It’s hard to forget that your bloodline tried to destroy mine."

Y/N stopped as well, standing just a few paces away from him. The space between them felt more like a chasm than the mere feet that separated them. But instead of retreating, she stepped closer, surprising him with her boldness. Her eyes were fierce, burning with a fire he hadn’t expected.

“And yet,” she shot back, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade, “here I am, ready to forge a new path. Can you say the same, Jacaerys? Or are you content to be forever shackled to the past?"

The intensity of her words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, the world seemed to freeze. The beautiful garden around them faded into the background, their conflict overshadowing everything else. Jacaerys could feel his heart racing—not just from the argument, but from something deeper. He saw, in that moment, more than just a Hightower standing before him. He saw a woman weighed down by the same burdens he carried—the weight of legacy, the expectations of bloodlines they hadn’t chosen, both trapped in a tangled web of history.

"You talk of forging a new path," he said slowly, his voice softer now, more reflective, "but how can I be sure? How do I know this isn’t another Hightower scheme?"

Y/N’s gaze softened, though the fire in her eyes remained. "You can’t know for certain, Jacaerys. Trust, like peace, has to be built. Brick by brick. Moment by moment. But it has to start somewhere. If we let the past dictate everything, we’ll be trapped in it forever."

Her words struck something deep within him. For the first time, he saw her not as an adversary, but as someone who understood. Someone who, like him, was navigating the treacherous waters of family, legacy, and expectation. There were no guarantees here, no easy solutions. But maybe… just maybe… there was a chance. A small, fragile possibility that they could build something better, together.

“I don’t know if I can forget,” he admitted quietly, vulnerability creeping into his voice. “But maybe… you’re right. We can’t keep living in the past.”

Y/N’s expression softened further, and she nodded. "No, we can’t. But that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy."

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a heavy cloak. The tension hadn’t completely disappeared, but something had shifted—a tentative understanding, perhaps. The beginning of something neither of them fully understood, but couldn’t entirely ignore.

As they resumed their walk through the garden, the hostility between them eased, replaced by something quieter, more uncertain. A possibility, fragile but real, that they might yet carve out a future that was theirs—beyond the legacies and bloodlines that had divided them for so long.

Taglist: @rafslytherin

[vixstarria]

You know what I just realized? Astarion’s unending hunger for blood got replaced with unending hunger for power if he ascends. He absolutely has no need for Cazador’s palace or political connections now that he can travel in the sun, but he’s so obsessed with protecting himself he happily takes up residence in his abuser’s home, despite all the terrible memories in it because it’s perfect for a power grab.

Essentially.

Tbh I'm a bit surprised to find this in my inbox as I don't think I've really said anything on the Spawn vs Ascended Astarion route. Ultimately, it's all pixels and people can do whatever they want with them.

But, hey, sure, here's a little rant under the cut.

My biggest gripe with Ascended Astarion isn't even that he's evil, or that he may be in any way mistreating Tav, or that he's power hungry, or any of the other usual complaints people have about him.

It's that he's simply boring.

You start off with this theatrical goofball, who is also an evil little shit, sure, but a hilarious one, who's terrified and riddled with trauma, and who just wants to experience simple joys and be safe and autonomous again.

Spawn ending - what does Astarion do? Well, anything he bloody wants to, really. Look at some of @spacebarbarianweird's headcanons for examples. Maybe he's an adventurer, maybe he's leading a quiet life running a shop, maybe he's a pirate, maybe he's a dragon rider, maybe he's in the Underdark, maybe he's somewhere on the astral plane. Maybe he's got kids. Maybe he found a cure for vampirism. Maybe he found a way to walk in the sun with an artifact. (I would add that maybe he's gathering a 7,000-strong vampire army in the Underdark and trying his hand at taking over the world as a spawn after all, but we know he can't plan that well)

He's charismatic. He's loving. And he's still the little shit you initially fell in love with.

Meanwhile, what's Ascended Astarion doing up in his castle?

Paperwork.

Dealing with bureaucrats.

Hosting occasional balls for people he despises, where he sits on his throne stroking his comically overinflated ego. In the very same castle that he just spent 200 years wishing to escape.

I just don't understand the appeal.

The archetype is essentially that of a corrupt politician or a ruthless head of a corporation. It's lacking in empathy and completely void of any positive emotions. Power and money for the sake of power and money. This is not the type of character I find appealing or compelling whatsoever, whether in fiction or real life.

"Oh, but you're giving him what he really wants if you ascend him!"

You just turned your favourite character into a bland, heartless megalomaniac, trapping him just as much as the blood craving and sun vulnerability would have, if not more. 🤷‍♀️

P.S. Ironically, some of my favourite fanfics actually happen to be Ascended Astarion fics, so no, he doesn't have to be boring. The above picture is a summary of what is implied by the game, together with the general gist of most AA fics I've seen.

[livefromthedas]

Surviving Purely Out Of Spite

By ClickClickBoom

(Also here on AAO3.)

Chapter 8: Making it Weird in Rivain and Talons in Treviso

“Lucanis, duck!” Shouted Taash.

The battlefield ran red, buzzing with a swarm of furious Deep Stalkers, but the assassin, as ever, was incredibly fast on his feet. Lucanis dropped back within seconds of an enormous chunk of granite whizzing by his right ear. It immediately lodged into the skull of another rampaging beast.

“Nice one, Taash!” Dellamorte hollered with a fierce grin.

“Pack leader on your left!” Yelled Rook over the din.

Spite’s wings erupted from Lucanis’s back and he launched skyward at an impossible speed. Within seconds he had landed on the muscle-bound beast, a dagger lodged into its skull. Even dying, the furious creature lurched and bucked, desperate to get free of its attacker. Lucanis hung on like a champ, and a second dagger to the eye sent the beast clamoring to the sand in a heap.

Rook fried a trio of the creatures in succession with bombastic bolts of lightening. They too crumpled to the sand, sizzling with smoke.

Seconds later, Taash gored the final two beasts with their gleaming golden axes, one in the head, the other splayed fully across the gut.

The battlefield had fallen silent. Rook and Lucanis both wavered where they stood, panting from exertion and sweating buckets beneath the scorching Rivaini sun. They’d been traipsing around the coast since well before sunrise, and at barely past 9, the day was already becoming a scorcher.

“How on Maferath’s left nut does anyone manage to run into a horde of deepstalkers within twenty minutes of chasing off a dragon?” Rook joked between pants. They had barely caught their breath after helping a couple of Isabela’s Lords of Fortune flush a lightning-belching Northern Hunter from one of their more frequently traversed caves when an ambush of three Deepstalkers quickly became many times the problem, “I am really starting to think one of us is cursed.”

“…Was that a demon joke?” Lucanis deadpanned, “That was a demon joke.”

Rook quirked an eyebrow and snickered, “Good? Bad?”

“Workshop it.”

“Uuugh,” Taash complained. Their Qunari friend waded through nearly two dozen bodies to retrieve a sword, “is it just me, or have these damn things gotten juicier lately?”

It was a fair question, given the state of them all. The beach was riddled with deepstalker corpses and soaked through with blood. Taash, Rook and Lucanis hadn’t faired much better - Rook was quite sure blood had soaked through every layer of clothing she had on… it was deeply unpleasant.

“It’s the numbers,” Lucanis assessed, trying and failing to wipe a dagger clean on his thigh - his pants were just as bloody as the blade, “You cut open anything in numbers greater than three, you are going to have one hell of a mess.”

“Well, it’s gross. This is gross,” Taash grumbled.

“Death is gross,” Rook noted. She squint against the sweat in her eyes, “But, I mean, aren’t dragons super bloody to kill? I’d think you’d be used to this kind of mess.”

“Yeah, but it makes sense in an animal that big,” said Taash.

Lucanis had given up on his daggers and worked to peel off sticky, sodden gloves instead, “Universal rule - Generally speaking, most bodies are the same. All are basically just bags of water and farts.”

An unseemly snort escaped Rook - a sign of success, judging by the Crow’s grin.

Taash, meanwhile, balked, “Aaugh! That’s worse! You just made it worse!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Oh my god, seriously though?” Rook’s attention was quickly pulled to the fact that her hair - waist length and curly as it was - was also matted with blood. She could feel it sticking to her back through her clothes, “I don’t think I can make it all the way back to the Lighthouse like this.”

“See?” Taash insisted to Lucanis, jabbing a finger at Rook, “Exactly!”

The assassin looked unphased.

“In which case,” Rook pressed, “Two questions. One, is that river nearby decent freshwater?”

Taash shrugged, “Technically, they all should be. They’re all coming in from the mountains.”

“Good, then two,” Rook bumbled a bit, trying to pull a boot from her foot a sickening squelch, “Think you can handle a couple of naked human asses while we try and get some of this mess washed off?”

Taash laughed, “Yeah, whatever. Doesn’t bother me any.”

It was a surprisingly time-consuming affair. Every scrap of clothing, and every weapon (which, by Rook’s count, hit nearly 15 between Taash and Lucanis alone. So many knives!) had to be soaked or scrubbed through.

An hour later, accoutrements of all sorts were splayed across granite boulders, baking beneath the sun. Taash ducked back beneath the roaring waterfall just up the way, making sure they were free of any more errant bits of deepstalker.

Rook, meanwhile, sat chest-deep in the river’s frigid crystal waters. She leaned back, thoroughly relaxed, as Lucanis helped gingerly work the carnage from her hair.

“You nearly took an entire deepstalker home with you,” he teased.

“Can’t have that,” said Rook, cracking one eye open against the sun to watch the Crow’s endearing concentration over the task, “Between Assan, Manfred and Spite, I’m pretty sure we’re full up on chaotic tag-alongs.”

Lucanis’s eyebrows rose humorously, “No doubt… Ah,” he managed to detangle one last fleshy bit of something, before nodding, “There. About as good as we’re getting without a decent soap.”

Rook dunked back beneath the chilly currents, quick to re-emerge with a sputter, “Shit this is cold!”

Lucanis, meanwhile, float back to submerge up to his collarbone and was eyeballing her with a chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he teased.

“I’ve got that whole ‘kinda looks like a drowning rat’ thing going on, don’t I?” Rook joked knowingly.

Her curls had run straight under the water’s weight, and a usually full, bold head of hair ran lank and incredibly long. She was familiar with the effect - it always looked absurd.

The Crow threw up two hands in a mock defense, “Your words, not mine.”

“Uh-huh.”

Lucanis quickly found himself dodging splashes and trying to catch the hands that launched them his way, cracking up the whole while.

“Heeeyy,” they only calmed down when Taash’s voice sounded from closer nearby, “You two leaving enough room for the Maker over there?”

“Oh, I have not heard that one in a long while,” the assassin laughed.

“How we doing with the drying?” Rook asked.

Taash had waded over to everyone’s gear, giving their own tunic a good shake, “Eh. I think half of Lucanis’s leather’s gonna need overnight and some conditioning. The rest? Wet, but good enough.”

“Good enough means lunch soon. And I am starving,” Lucanis replied.

Rook was already making her way for their gear… smartly out of reach of the Crow before turning back to tease, “Yeah, vehnan. Come on out, let’s see just how cold that water really is.”

“Making it weird,” warned Taash.

Lucanis, meanwhile, half-scolded, half chuckled, “Ohh-ho …Rook.”

He tore after the elf, grinning after her ridiculous squeal and laughter, just as Spite chimed in, “NICE one. Rook!”

———————-

They were still tracking drops of water onto the stone floor as they arrived home through the Vi’Revas. Rook suddenly found herself shivering. After hours boiling on the coast, the Lighthouse’s cool underbelly felt frigid.

“Chioccolata Calda?” Lucanis offered at the sound of Rook’s chattering teeth.

“Oh yes please.”

Boots squelched wetly the entire way up the stairs.

“Did Rook take another surprise trip to the bottom of a lake?” Neve mused from her perch on the Library’s couch at her teammates’ soggy appearances.

Taash snickered, continuing their damp trek to the second floor.

“Oh, come on,” said Rook, “A gal falls into a lake once—“

“Thrice,” Lucanis correctly playfully, “We really do need to teach you how to swim.”

“If we could ever find the time,” Neve mused from over her quill and a fat stack of notes. She then looked up, adding seriously, “Your baby Crow is in the Dining Hall, Lucanis. Apparently, whatever news he has was too important to write down.”

Lucanis went shock-serious. He spared Rook a glance, before quickly making for the door.

———————

“Ser!”

Valentín scrambled to stand from a casual slump at the Dining Hall table the moment he realized just who, exactly, had entered the room. At just the right age where long legs and big ears hadn’t quite caught up with the rest of his growth, the teenager somehow looked even more reedy than usual. Quickly adding to that was the look of genuine nerves that seemed to have struck ramrod up his spine at being found slouching by one of the heads of his house.

“What do you have?” Lucanis bit coolly.

“Movement from the Talons,” said Valentín, “All of them. The staff… houses De Riva and Cantori… Treviso Crows only just found out this morning as they started to arrive.”

The boy blanched, looking a bit baffled as Rook walked right up to him. She had placed hands upon his cheeks and was giving him the hairy eyeball.

“Baby, you look exhausted,” she noted warmly, “How long have you been here?”

“I…” he squirmed, casting a cautious glance at Lucanis.

The senior Dellamorte sighed as he watched the little woman fuss over details that he had brushed past entirely. The knot in his brow unfurled a bit as he thought better of himself.

“Sit. There is nothing that need be said that cannot be done over food.”

Before long, a solid spread of meats, bread, cheeses and fruit sat before the boy, and he was quick to dive in. Rook beamed at the steaming mug of chocolate that Lucanis placed before her before taking a seat of his own with his coffee.

“According to Viago, the third Talon said he received an invitation weeks ago,” the boy continued unprompted, “It seems much the same for the others. And all sworn to secrecy about the meet. The Villa has been scrambling - Food, preparations. We’ve a dozen extra security from Teia and Viago alone… and for some reason, the entire staff has been forbidden from the east wing. Tia Alma has been furious.”

Lucanis managed a chuckle at that, for all of his pensiveness otherwise, and it was little wonder why. He had regaled Rook of more than a few stories of Tia Alma. The shrewd, matronly little woman had overseen the entire staff of Villa Dellamorte for as long as Lucanis could remember, and she was nothing if not incredibly skilled at ruling that particular roost when Caterina was busy with business as First Talon. She was also, apparently, an exceptional cook. The one area she and young Lucanis had bonded most over was food, and over the years she had taught the boy everything she knew on the subject.

“Illario and half truths are to be expected,” Lucanis noted, “Though I suspect Viago and Teia are less than pleased about discovering the inventions second-hand.”

“However mad Alma may be,” Valentín agreed sheepishly from past a healthy bite of ham, “They are much worse. Especially Teia.”

“Si,” Lucanis mused evenly, before cutting to the chase, “But you are burying the lead.”

“Aye, siento,” the boy winced and was quick to explain, “It’s bad, ser. Illario has everyone expected to gather in the Opera House by dusk. To discuss his succession as First Talon.”

Rook froze, mid-gulp, and watched over the lip of her mug as the color completely drained from Lucanis’s face. His temples twitched as he bit down hard, and she swore she caught a flash of violet light in his eyes. She carefully placed her cup back on the table. Valentín, meanwhile, kept his gaze fixed silently upon his food. Both Rook and the boy, it seemed, knew Lucanis quite well enough to gather when he was genuinely, deeply irate, but doing his damnedest to mask it.

“Forgive me,” he said quietly as he stood, “A moment.”

Rook and Valentín watched in silence as the senior Crow strode for the pantry and shoved his way inside.

“You’ve got a shit job, kid,” Rook whispered apologetically to the boy, a hand patting his forearm.

Valentín watched the open doorway for a moment, clearly trying to gage his own safety, before a sad little smirk crossed his face.

“Believe it or not,” he mused quietly, “I have had worse.”

Rook tittered a chuckle of her own, “From what that one has told me of his own training, I believe i—“

There was a violent flash of purple light and a plume of unctuous black smoke from the pantry door. Rook scrambled to catch Valentín by the sleeve of his coat as he leaped to his feet in a panic.

“Nonono,” Rook whispered quickly. She was glad the kid was smart enough to listen, less he make an already tense situation much worse, “Sit. You focus on your food, I’ll…” she had stood up as the teenager reclaimed his chair, still unable to tear his wide, worried eyes from the door.

“But it…”

“Eat, sweetheart,” She said, patting a hand upon a scrawny shoulder as she rounded the table, “I’ve got it.”

…She hoped. Rook strode cautiously for the open doorway, the scent of ozone and sulfur tickling her nose the closer she came to the room.

“Lucanis? Are you…?”

She blinked owlishly for a moment, trying to gauge what she was seeing upon stepping inside.

Violent streaks of char and ash streaked the walls, fanning out from center in vicious tendrils. But not just streaks - the singe of two white-hot, furious wings - at the center of which, sat huddled upon the floor, was Lucanis.

“Oh, Vehnan,” Rook whispered softly.

Lucanis sat, his knees pulled up nearly to his chest, elbows upon his knees. One hand laced into his hair, his eyes glassy with tears.

Rook doubled back, and quietly shut the door - Privacy between them and the stressed out teenager at the table.

She sat right down with him then, face to face, a gentle hand brushing his cheek. He couldn’t make eye contact at first, thoughts trapped in a painful, grief-stricken spiral. The moment he blinked tears, Rook pulled him into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry, Vehnan. There’s nothing about this that mustn’t hurt like hell.”

Wickedly tense shoulders relaxed just enough to wrap arms around her, pulling Rook as close as he could manage, anxious, furious trembling be damned. She held him quietly, breathing slow and even - breathing he struggled to ground himself to once again.

“How are we doing in there, Spite?”

“Hurts,” was all the demon could manage.

It made sense, Rook thought. She knew from experience that few emotions stole words from tongues more completely than the sting of betrayal.

Lucanis closed his eyes against fingernails that brushed softly through his hair, hot tears warming the damp fabric at her shoulder where his face had hidden away. It was only once the Crow had managed a deep, shuttering sigh that she let him go - and even then, only enough to sit back against the wall, looking deeply miserable.

“I have to be ready for this, mi amor,” he said quietly, admitting, “I do not feel it.”

“Lucanis, I don’t know how anyone could,” Rook replied. “This… this is a lot. For anybody. But I also…” she mulled carefully over words, a hand rubbing idly over where his heart thrummed a war drum in his chest, “I cannot imagine anyone more capable. Or more brave. And who will absolutely not be doing this alone.”

He caught that hand, and pulled it to his lips, leaving a kiss upon the soft, delicate underside of her wrist, before holding it warmly back over his heart.

“Then… We deal with this tonight,” he agreed. He slowly wrestled back his calm with that small scrap of composure, one breath at a time, “The three of us.”

“We absolutely do.”

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.” The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-TWO EXCERPT:

Harry giggled. “Hello there, Hubert,” he said, stroking Hubert’s muzzle. The beast purred, low and deep. “Been enjoying yourself in the Forbidden Forest?”

Hubert shook himself again and let out a low humming warble. He swayed back and forth, his bones clacking together. Those glowing red eyes settled onto Tom and he sent a snuff of hot air. The beast nuzzled him gently. Tom relented and gave him a few pats on the snout.

“So long as you don’t try to sit on me again, we’ll get along just fine, you great beast.”

Hubert chuffed.

“I wonder why the magic hasn’t left him,” said Harry, still petting the dragon’s muzzle. “Shouldn’t something like this go away eventually? It’s been two months now.”

Tom frowned. His usual dislike for the beast twisted into intrigue and he took a good look at the creature. He’d been too busy being annoyed to really focus on just how remarkable it was that he was even alive. Technically. He really oughtn’t be alive considering he had no organs, no blood, no nerves, and no flesh.

“Usually, transfiguration spells and enchantments do wear off,” said Tom, studying Hubert for a long minute. “Only powerful wizards and witches can create something that is sustained throughout their lives. However, it always disappears upon their death.”

Harry slowly nodded, eyes clouding over.

“Since we’re both alive and he was animated by our combined magic, it’s likely he’ll always be sustained by magic until we both…”

Tom trailed off, his lips pursing together. Something inside of him rebelled at the thought of either of them dying. It felt taboo to speak its inevitability out loud, as if he were invoking something better left untouched. Birth and death came to all living persons equally, no matter one’s station in life.

But the idea of Harry dying gripped him by the lungs, stole his breath, with its terrifying possibility.

“My mom once transformed a petal from a lily into a fish,” said Harry softly. “But when she died… the fish disappeared.”

The unreasonable fear pricked at Tom’s heart.

Hubert let out a low, mourning tone. He butted his snout against Harry’s side. His smile softened; Harry patted the dragon a few more times.

What beautiful magic would disappear from this world if Harry suddenly wasn’t at Tom’s side? 

How deeply would he feel the void?

Ridiculous. He had plans to avoid such a future. Tom’s hand flew to his collarbone; he pressed down, feeling the weight of the locket against his skin. Perhaps… Harry would agree to join him in that future, despite the dark magic the ritual would entail. It was a price worth paying if it meant they could always be at each other’s sides, right? Tom let out a low sigh and the fears faded from his racing heart. Maybe one day he’d broach the topic of horcruxes with Harry.

Hubert grew restless and distracted, his attention turning back to the forest. His large head tilted to the side, as if listening for something. He let out a deeper chuff and shifted his stance.

“You want to go back already?”

Hubert dipped his head, shifting back and forth on his hind legs again. Harry threw his arms around his muzzle, giving him another pat, before backing away a couple of paces.

“Bye, Hubert!” said Harry, waving at him. “See ya later!”

Tom forgot, much too late, that standing so close to a dragon lifting off would be an issue. The beast spread his wings and crouched. It bolted into the air with an enormous gust of wind, once more knocking the pair of them off their feet.

With a cry of surprise from Harry and an annoyed grunt from Tom, they fell to the ground tangled together. Tom landed hard onto his back with Harry landing on top of his chest, his hands slamming down at the sides of Tom’s shoulders. The weight of Harry bore down; a leg nestled between Tom’s thighs. Cold, wet snow frosted his back, yet the heat of him on top of Tom burned it all away. Harry’s chest heaved with each shaky breath and pressed against Tom with each exhale.

Those green eyes pinned Tom down. For a half a beat, they stared at each other, frozen in place.

Until Tom’s body reacted.

To his horror.

Oh, the betrayal. He knew what it meant. Understood. Oh, god. It wasn’t like he hadn't woken up to this before; it happened on the rare occasion, just like any other boy his age. But it never reacted to another person. Shit. The blood drained so fast from his face, Tom almost grew faint where he lay in the snow, almost swooned there on the ground as he lost all breath. No. Goddammit! How dare his trousers tent with this betrayal. 

And the worst part of all?

Harry’s eyes widened.

He knows…

HE KNOWS!

[duxbelisarius]

The Dragon has Three Heads or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Believe That Young Griff is the Real Deal

Before going any further, I want to warn anyone reading this analysis that it will contain spoilers for A Dance With Dragons, so proceed at your own risk.

This essay came about from an 'epiphany' I had while reading ADWD on break at work, specifically chapter Daenerys VII. In this chapter, Quentyn Martell and his companions present themselves to Daenerys and offer her a marriage alliance with Dorne. This being the day of her wedding to Hizdahr zo Loraq, Dany refuses and makes note mentally of Quaithe's earlier warning about not trusting "the Sun's Son." The identification seems simple enough, with House Martell's sigil featuring the sun and Quentyn being the son of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne, but there are serious problems with this conclusion.

The issue with labeling Quentyn Martell the Sun's Son stems from how Dany reaches this conclusion; for starters, this is the original quote given by Quaithe in Daenerys II:

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

And this is how Dany identifies Quentyn as the Sun's Son in Daenerys VII and VIII:

Something tickled at her memory. "Ser Barristan, what are the arms of House Martell?"

"A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear."

The sun's son. A shiver went through her. "Shadows and whispers." What else had Quaithe said? The pale mare and the sun's son. There was a lion in it too, and a dragon. Or am I the dragon? "Beware the perfumed seneschal." That she remembered. "Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me, ser. Tomorrow is my wedding day."

...

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare's coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun's son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles.

George has talked about the fickle nature of prophecy in the books and publicly, citing the Duke of Somerset's death at the Battle of St. Albans in Shakespeare's Henry VI as an example of why the literal or easiest interpretations are not always the most reliable. While Dany's conclusion that Quentyn is the 'Sun's Son' seems straightforward, she bases it solely on Barristan's description of the Martell arms. Her reasoning is mainly to justify marrying Hizdahr by dismissing the Martell offer, as Dany herself barely remembers Quaithe's warning and bemoans her 'riddles'.

Assuming that the 'Pale Mare' refers to the 'bloody flux' that the Astapori refugees bring to Meereen, and that the Kraken, dark flame, lion, griffon and mummer's dragon refer to Victarion Greyjoy, Moqorro, Tyrion, Connington and Young Griff respectively, the sequence of Quaithe's warning makes no sense with Quentyn as the 'Sun's Son.' At the end of ADWD, Tyrion is outside the walls of Meereen while Victarion and Moqorro are en route with the Iron Fleet, and Connington and Young Griff are in Westeros. If Dany's return to Meereen from the Dothraki Sea is followed by her journeying westwards, then this sequence makes sense. Victarion will likely destroy the Slaver's fleets and is seeking Dany's hand in marriage, while Moqorro is with him for the purpose of acknowledging her as Azor Ahai and encouraging her to free the slaves of Volantis. Given Tyrion's association with Varys, Illyrio, Jorah and now 'Brown Ben Plumm,' and his family's role in Robert's rebellion, it makes sense that he would not immediately seek out Daenerys on her return to Meereen. Connington and Young Griff await her in Westeros, but Quentyn as the 'Sun's Son' precedes all of them, breaking Quaithe's otherwise sensible sequence. If Quentyn were the 'Sun's Son' he could just as easily have been paired with the Kraken, since both are sent by the heads of their houses to offer her an alliance, while Tyrion and Moqorro travel together on the Selaesori Qhoran (the 'Perfumed Seneschal') and Connington and Griff are in league with Varys.

The far greater issue with Dany's interpretation is that we have access to Quentyn's POV, and there is nothing to suggest that he seeks to betray Daenerys. His purpose was to approach Dany with a marriage alliance, to assist her in reclaiming her crown; his party was even sent by Tatters to scope out the situation in Meereen for a possible double-crossing of the Yunkai'i, specifically to aid Dany. The only thing close to untoward that he does is attempt to claim one of her Dragons, and this was a desperation move driven by his insecurities and his fear of returning to his father empty handed, which would mean that his fallen companions died for nothing:

"What name do you think they will give me, should I return to Dorne without Daenerys?" Prince Quentyn asked. "Quentyn the Cautious? Quentyn the Craven? Quentyn the Quail?" (The Discarded Knight, ADWD)

Volantis, Quentyn thought. Then Lys, then home. Back the way I came, empty-handed. Three brave men dead, for what?

...

His father would speak no word of rebuke, Quentyn knew, but the disappointment would be there in his eyes. His sister would be scornful, the Sand Snakes would mock him with smiles sharp as swords, and Lord Yronwood, his second father, who had sent his own son along to keep him safe … (The Spurned Suitor, ADWD)

Disqualifying Quentyn as the Sun's Son leaves us with only three options, of which only one really works. Trystane is the only other son of House Martell aside from Quentyn via Prince Doran, and given his limited roll in the story thus far I think it's safe to cross him off the list. Doran could theoretically work as the 'Sun's son,' as his mother was Princess of Dorne before him; given that Quaithe describes the figures as going to Dany, Doran's limited mobility and poor health would disqualify him. This leaves us with only one 'son of a sun,' that being 'Young Griff,' aka Aegon VI Targaryen, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne.

This association of Aegon with the Martells via his mother fits with the copious amounts of imagery linking him to the Rhoynar and to 'Egg' aka Aegon V of "Dunk and Egg" fame, specifically that character's travels in Dorne. Tyrion finds him living on a pole boat in the Rhoyne River, home of the ancient Rhoynar culture that Dorne descends from. The Shy Maid is operated by Yandry and Ysilla, so-called 'orphans of the Greenblood' which are another allusion to Dunk and Egg's travels on the Greenblood River in Dorne:

A poleboat had taken them down the Greenblood to the Planky Town, where they took passage for Oldtown on the galleas White Lady.

...

When they’d been poling down the Greenblood, the orphan girls had made a game of rubbing Egg’s shaven head for luck. (The Sworn Sword)

In Tyrion IV of ADWD, a massive horned turtle appears in the river by the Shy Maid, an obvious reference to the Rhoynish 'Old Man of the River,':

It was another turtle, a horned turtle of enormous size, its dark green shell mottled with brown and overgrown with water moss and crusty black river molluscs. It raised its head and bellowed, a deep-throated thrumming roar louder than any warhorn that Tyrion had ever heard. “We are blessed,” Ysilla was crying loudly, as tears streamed down her face. “We are blessed, we are blessed.”

Duck was hooting, and Young Griff too. Haldon came out on deck to learn the cause of the commotion . . . but too late. The giant turtle had vanished below the water once again. “What was the cause of all that noise?” the Halfmaester asked.

“A turtle,” said Tyrion. “A turtle bigger than this boat.”

“It was him,” cried Yandry. “The Old Man of the River.”

And why not? Tyrion grinned. Gods and wonders always appear, to attend the birth of kings.

When Tyrion and Haldon visit the Painted Turtle inn to find information about Daenerys' whereabouts, we have an interesting description of the inn from Tyrion:

The ridged shell of some immense turtle hung above its door, painted in garish colors. Inside a hundred dim red candles burned like distant stars. (Tyrion VI, ADWD)

We once more have Rhoynish symbolism in the turtle, while the 'garish colors' are reminiscent of Young Griff's hair, which is dyed blue in the Tyroshi fashion. Tyrion's description of inside the 'Painted Turtle' is one of dim red candles burning like stars, which can be seen as an oblique reference to the red rubies on Rhaegar's black breastplate, thereby associating the red of Targaryen heraldry with the cultural symbols of the Rhoynar.

The 'Dunk and Egg' imagery goes further, with both Egg and Aegon wearing distinctive straw sun hats, and being accompanied by their Hedge Knights from the Stormlands, both of whom have titles derived from their own simplistic personalities (Duncan the Tall, Rolly Duckfield). Moreover, Egg's journeying to Dorne ends up giving him refuge from the Spring Sickness that ravages Westeros, while Aegon's time in Essos serves as a refuge from Robert's spies and the chaos of the War of the Five Kings. While these similarities might be viewed as a doomed attempt by Varys to recreate Egg through Aegon, I think the purpose of these parallels is to establish both princes as following similar trajectories: both are sons of a Targaryen prince (Maekar, Rhaegar) and a Dornish noblewoman (Dyana Dayne, Elia Martell); become King of the Seven Kingdoms through unexpected circumstances: and if George plans to end ADOS with a mini-Dance of the Dragons, I would expect Aegon VI to meet a fiery end like Egg did.

If Young Griff is actually Aegon VI Targaryen as well as the 'Sun's Son,' this leaves the 'mummer's dragon' without any clear identity. Part of this is due to the conviction that Dany's identification of the cloth dragon from the undying visions with a 'mummer's dragon' or puppet dragon must be correct. In truth, there are countless cases from ADWD alone that show us that a mummer's object is not necessarily a puppet, but more broadly means something which is not as it appears:

I know one stands before me now, weeping mummer's tears. The realization made her sad. (Daenerys III, ADWD)

"Not here," warned Gerris, with a mummer's empty smile. "We'll speak of this tonight, when we make camp." (The Windblown, ADWD)

"My lord, I bear you no ill will. The rancor I showed you in the Merman's Court was a mummer's farce put on to please our friends of Frey."

...

I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter … but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer's farce is almost done. My son is home." (Davos IV, ADWD)

His reign as prince of Winterfell had been a brief one. He had played his part in the mummer's show, giving the feigned Arya to be wed, and now he was of no further use to Roose Bolton. (The Turncloak, ADWD)

Fat Wyman Manderly, Whoresbane Umber, the men of House Hornwood and House Tallhart, the Lockes and Flints and Ryswells, all of them were northmen, sworn to House Stark for generations beyond count. It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard's blood, but the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin. So why not send the northmen forth to battle Stannis before the farce unraveled? (A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD)

Mummer's tears and smiles are obviously false emotions, being affectations put on to hide what someone truly feels. Wyman Manderly is engaged in a mummer's farce wherein he pretends to be loyal to King Tommen and Roose Bolton, but in truth is scheming to restore the Starks to Winterfell and assist Stannis against the Boltons. Roose Bolton, Petyr Baelish and the Crown have in turn engaged in their own mummer's farce by sending Jeyne Poole north to wed Ramsay Snow in the guise of Arya Stark, "a lamb in direwolf's skin." If the 'mummer's dragon' is in fact a dragon that has been made to appear as something else, then Jon Snow more than fits this bill. By birth he should be a Targaryen, having been fathered by Rhaegar Targaryen upon Lyanna Stark; instead, his fortuitous Stark features inherited from his mother, and Ned's claiming Jon as his bastard and raising him amongst his children at Winterfell, has allowed Jon to hide in plain sight from those who would kill him for being Rhaegar's son.

The significance of Dany, Jon and Aegon being the three heads of the dragon is due to their mirroring a less conspicuous triad in George's World: elemental magic and it's connections to the Long Night. We are aware of three forms of elemental magic in the story, being pyromancy, cryomancy and hydromancy. Pyromancy is the most obvious, being the control and use of fire as we see with followers of Rhllor, and also tied to dragons. Cryomancy or ice magic appears in the powers of the Others and in the Wall separating the Seven Kingdoms from the lands beyond. Finally we have hydromancy or water magic, which was used by the Rhoynar against the Valyrian Freedhold and by Nymeria's Rhoynar settlers to support their communities within the deserts of Dorne. Company of the Cat has an excellent video discussing these three 'schools' of magic, but to summarize what she's said: Blue, Red and Green are the colours commonly associated with Ice, Fire and Water/the Sea in ASOIAF; in addition to being featured on the arms of ancient houses such as Massey and Strong, these elements are in turn associated with three magical items in the books. The first, The Horn of Joramun, can raise and lower The Wall (Ice); Dragonbinder, a horn that was likely used alongside similar horns to control the volcanoes of the fourteen flames in Valyria (Fire); and the 'Kraken summoning horn' which is most likely the Hammer of the Waters, since the Hammer raised the seas to swamp the 'Arm of Dorne,' which would have filled the seas fill with corpses of the dead and 'summoned' krakens, which would have fed on the bodies of the drowned.

The Valyrian, Northern and Rhoynish heritage of Dany, Jon and Aegon ties them to these three forms of magic respectively, and by extension to the Long Night. We are given three accounts of the Long Night between ASOIAF and TWOIAF, which I dub the 'western,' 'far eastern' and 'near eastern' versions. The 'western' account concerns the First Men, the Night's Watch, the Last Hero and the Others; the 'far eastern' account covers the 'Jade Compendium' and the Yi Tish account of the Blood Betrayal; and the 'near eastern' or Rhoynar account in which the children of Mother Rhoyne sang a song to return light to the world. Aegon is tied to the Rhoynish account through his mother's heritage, with references to the Rhoynish account in the 'Old Man of the River' appearing in ADWD and Dany's vision of Rhaegar talking about Aegon's 'Song' (that of Ice and Fire):

The Rhoynar tell of a darkness that made the Rhoyne of Essos dwindle and disappear, her waters frozen as far south as the joining of the Selhoru, until a hero convinced the many children of Mother Rhoyne, such as the Crab King and the Old man of the River, to put aside their bickering and join in a secret song that brought back the day. (TWOIAF: Ancient History: The Long Night)

...

“Will you make a song for him?” the woman asked.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” (Daenerys IV, ACOK)

Jon's connection to the Northern account is obvious given his Stark lineage and service in the Night's Watch, as well as his dreams in ADWD:

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. "Snow," an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. He slew a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. Too late he recognized Ygritte. She was gone as quick as she'd appeared.

The world dissolved into a red mist. Jon stabbed and slashed and cut. He hacked down Donal Noye and gutted Deaf Dick Follard. Qhorin Halfhand stumbled to his knees, trying in vain to staunch the flow of blood from his neck. "I am the Lord of Winterfell," Jon screamed. It was Robb before him now, his hair wet with melting snow. Longclaw took his head off. Then a gnarled hand seized Jon roughly by the shoulder. He whirled … (Jon XII, ADWD)

Finally, Dany is directly referred to as Azor Ahai in the books while her visions from Daenerys IX of AGOT connect her bloodline to the Great Empire of the Dawn. The eye colours of the figures she sees match the titles of four of the eight emperors of the GEOTD, Opal, Jade, Tourmaline and Amethyst, with the Bloodstone Emperor killing his sister the Amethyst Empress and causing the Long Night. Azor Ahai and the Bloodstone Emperor are themselves connected, and I recommend David Lightbringer's Nightbringer series and "Azor Ahai the Bad Guy" video for a concise explanation. It's worth noting that David is well within the Faegon Blackfyre camp, but I think his theories here more than fit my own conclusions also.

Aegon being one of the three heads also fits in with the symbolic relationship between water, fire and ice and the green, red and blue colour scheme. As Company of the Cat points out in her video about the magic horns (timestamp 26:52), green is a secondary colour made from a 'cool' and a 'warm' colour, placing it in the middle of the spectrum while red and blue are polar opposites. Similarly, fire can melt ice back into water and water in turn quenches fire, situating Aegon at a middle ground between Jon's ice and Dany's fire. Whereas Jon's only aspect of himself that ties him to House Targaryen is his father and otherwise he is firmly associated with his mother's house, Dany is tied symbolically to her Targaryen identity in the books, being a product of Targaryen incest, the first to hatch dragons in over a century, and her ties to fire through her 'rebirth' on Mirri's pyre under the Red Comet. While Aegon's physical appearance and his father tie him clearly to House Targaryen like Dany, the support of his mother's family alongside his Rhoynar lineage and symbolism place him in a similar situation to Jon, besides their being half-brothers. This also calls to mind the three accounts of the Long Night: if Jon is the Last Hero leading the Night's Watch and Dany is Azor Ahai driving out the darkness with her 'lightbringer' (ie her dragons), Aegon is the unnamed hero who rallied the children of Mother Rhoyne to sing a secret song which brought back the day. To quote alexis_something_rose's essay about Young Griff, "I can wager who will be bickering and who will tell them to set their differences aside and join together in a secret song that will bring back the day."

Whether or not all three or some combination of them will play a decisive role in defeating the Others, or if that will be Bran's part to play, I believe strongly that Dany, Jon and Aegon will be the 'three heads of the dragon.' If 'Young Griff' is truly Sun's Son, Aegon son of Rhaegar, his joining with Dany and Jon represents a unification of the three Dawn Age narratives of the Long Night and it's eventual end. Uniting the icey North, the dragon lord's fire and the songs of Mother Rhoyne would make the endgame a true 'Song of Ice and Fire.'

[jlhynde-insanitybrilliance]

UDLTTOM DIALOGUE DRAFT #73

*Harry & Ted playing 2 truths and a lie with Tom & Knights of Walpurgis*

Harry: It’s my turn again? Ok Umm…I didn’t learn how to swim until I was eleven, I’ve never been to South America, and I’m an unregistered animagus.

Ignotus Avery (frustrated): Bloody hell! Why are these so difficult?! I believe all of these!

Harry: How are they difficult?

Alyxander Mulciber: After hearing you out raced a dragon on a broomstick anything goes at this point.

Lyra Burke: Oh, I do believe you are an animagus! That would make so much sense, wouldn’t it? How else are you able to slip away so often without being noticed? What’s your form?

Abraxas Malfoy: That’s not part of the game, Lyra.

Lyra: New game! Let’s try and guess Evans’ animagus form, every wrong guess you have to drink but if we get it right Evans has to down the rest of the bottle! And we get to ask you questions!

Harry: Alright, sure.

Lyra: Is it aquatic, amphibious, reptilian, or mammal?

Harry: None of the above. Drink.

Druella Roiser: Avian?

Harry: No, though it can fly. Drink.

Thaddeus Nott: Is it an insect?

*Harry nods*

Theodore (stunned disbelief): It’s a bloody cockroach, isn’t it?

*Harry passes bottle to Theodore*

Harry: Drink up, Ted.

-3 bottles & a half of Fire whiskey later-

Abraxas: -hic-I’m telling’ ya, he’s gotta be a blue morpho-hic- I’m a thousand present positive of it-hic

Walburga Black: Shhh, please! I insist that he’s lying. He’s a liar, Abraxas, he’s been lying about the whole thing tryin’ ta get us-hic-smashed. He’s got it written on his hand 🤚

Lyra: I think-hic- if I was a animagus I’d like to be a butterfly 🦋. It-hic-reminds of the Taoist philosopher Zhuangzi—

Harry (still mostly sober): Are you not going to guess, Riddle?

Tom: Oh, I wouldn’t dare presume.

Harry: That’s no fun. C’mon, don’t be a chicken.

Tom (unable to ignore the challenge): Fine, Evans. Let me think about it… An insect that can fly, it’s blue, is found commonly in gardens, but is not native to the British isles. Is it bigger or smaller than a knut?

Harry: Smaller.

Tom: And what country is it native to?

Harry: Australia.

Tom: What does it eat?

Harry: Mostly aphids.

Tom: Then it’s a pest controller…

Harry: Give up?

Tom: Do you? If I get it right you’ll have to down half a bottle of Fire whiskey in one go, Evans.

Harry: I don’t think you’ll get it right. You’d never guess it.

Tom: How about a wager, Evans, between just you and I? I get it wrong and I’ll write one of your essays for you, any subject, any length…

Harry: I’m listening.

Tom: But if I get it right, I get a kiss. Right here (taps lips)

Harry (laughing): You know what, fine. Sure Riddle. If you think you can guess it without asking another question.

*Tom whispers his answer in Harry’s ear & its right.*

Harry:

Oh shit!

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 38: The day I lost you

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): idk man... lot happens here A/n: y'all are not gonna be happy with next week, let me tell you that [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

"Well, well. What brings you here, Potter?"

You whip around. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle stand with their wands pointed at the two of you.

Harry moves in front of you, handing you the diadem. "I could ask you the same."

"You have something of mine. I'd like it back." His eyes flicker towards the wand in Harry's hand. Oh… your cousin lost his wand to Harry? How interesting.

"Draco", you say cautiously, drawing the attention towards you. "Stop, please. Think for a moment. Is this really what you want? Or is this Uncle Lucius' ideas of the world?"

The blond's wand lowers for a moment before he renews his stance. "I have to… You know I have to." Sorrow fills his face briefly before it's gone and replaced with an angry sneer pointed at Harry.

"Come on, Draco", whispers Goyle, egging your cousin on. "Don't be a prat. Do him."

Draco seems to hesitate for a moment. His eyes flickered between Harry and you.

Suddenly, a spell gets cast from behind you and disarms Draco. You gasp, whipping around. Hermione and Ron are absolutely soaked and Hermione has a triumphant look on her face.

Goyle fires the killing curse at her and Hermione manages to deflect it. The three Slytherin boys run off with Ron in pursuit.

The diadem has managed to fly out of Harry's hands and landed on top of a pile of old furniture. The three of you climb and struggle against the tables and chairs and even a pair of couch cushions before Harry manages to finally grab the diadem.

Once back on the ground, you have not even a minute to collect yourself before Run comes running back, screaming something. "Goyle's set the bloody place on fire!", he yells out as he passes you, grabbing Hermione's hand and sprinting away.

A gigantic snake made of fire comes slithering around the corned and opens its beak. "Oh shit!", you yell and follow after Hermione and Ron.

The heat is scorching as flames fill the chamber. You conjure a wall of water but it boils almost immediately. Harry pulls you away before a fire dragon bakes you like a cake.

In the scuffle, the four of you have worked yourself to a dead end, fire on three sides and a wall of trunks on the other. You look around and spot a couple of brooms. You sigh deeply, knowing what needs to be done.

"Here!", you throw the brooms towards the others and you push yourself off. Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down.

"Come on! This way!" Ron points towards the exit, but your eyes catch something.

It's Daco! He has started to climb up a tower to escape the flames, but it's catching up to him. "Draco!", you yell, catching the attention of the blond. You steer your broom towards him and hold out your hand, ignoring the protest of the others.

The first time you miss, a panicked cry escapes you. The second time it's a success and you let Draco take the reigns of the broom.

You escape just barely thanks to Hermione and you come to a screeching halt outside of the chamber. Rolling over the ground, you manage to snatch Draco's leg and pull him towards you.

"You prick! You daft idiot! You bloody nitwit! You-!" A feeling like being stabbed before heat burning your insides makes you stop your assault. You crumple to the ground, gasping for air.

Something weird is happening. It's cold. So so cold. Doesn't matter that you've just escaped the fire pits of hell. You're freezing and Draco's hands scorch your skin.

He looks over you in concern, the same look in his eyes he had in the toilets last year. "What's happening?! Do something?!", he yells out to the Golden Trio.

The conversation that they have is muffled as you focus on your cousin. "Go", you whisper, clutching his arm. "Flee. Now is your chance."

Draco nods and starts sprinting away. Ron wants to chase him but your hand on his wrist stops him. You've managed to get yourself in a sitting position, resting against a wall. "Please."

Ron hesitates for a moment but stands down eventually. He goes to Hermione and wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"What's the plan next?", you ask, dusting off your pants. You're still unsteady on your feet but you need to continue.

"The snake", is all Harry says and you nod. Because you know. You've always felt her, deep down. The way she acted around you, all points towards her being a Horrcrux.

You nod and follow after them. They need every help they can get.

You're shooting spells left and right, disarming Death Eaters and pulling students out of danger's way. Sometimes a Death Eater recognises you. Some hesitate to attack you, others use unforgivables without a second thought. You make sure those get sent right back to their sender.

Eyes scanning across the stairway to check if it's safe, something catches your eye. Or rather… someone. Dark curls stick to a sweaty and bloody forehead as he is struck down by a Death Eater.

You can't stop yourself and call out his name. "THEODORE!" You raise your wand and with a powerful blast, the wizard that towered over him is disintegrated to dust.

Ignoring the calls for your name, you rush towards Theo and grab his face. Tears fill your eyes as you brush off the Death Eater dust, the rough texture of an outgrown stubble a new but welcome feeling. A laugh escapes you at the big, dumbfounded look he gives you.

With a trembling hand, he traces calloused fingertips over your lips. He seems mesmerised, not believing that it's really you. "You're just as beautiful as the day I lost you."

A sob escapes you before crashing your lips against his. Theo lets out a 'hmmpf!' before closing his eyes, a hand holding the back of your neck. Your hand travels from his chest to his face, cradling it and keeping him close.

For a moment, the two of you forget the war raging around you and just kiss like your life depends on it. It's only you and him back at the summer home. A low hum escapes you, and you feel Theo smile against your lips.

A spell exploding next to your faces makes the two of you jump up and you fling a spell back at the caster. You look back down to Theodore. His eyes are wide and his lips parted. Unconsciously you bite your bottom lip as you help him off the ground.

For a moment the two of you stare at each other before you snap out of it and begin to fight back to back. Your hands are clasped together as you pull each other out of harm's way.

As Theo pushes you to hide behind a pillar, something weird happens. The fighting stops.

The Dark Lord's voice echoes through your head and you clutch on tightly to Theo. "You have fought valiantly… but in vain, I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity."

Theo clutches his head in pain as the speaking finally stops. Around you, Death Eaters disappear in clouds of black. The castle is destroyed and bodies litter the hallways.

"Are you okay? Nothing hurts?", you ask quickly, grabbing Theo's head in yours and wiping away dust. He gives you a small smile while holding your hands.

Looking around, you swallow thickly. "Let's… let's go to the Great Hall." Theo helps you over debris and down the stairs, his hands never leaving yours.

Once you've passed the threshold, your eyes scan around. Looking for familiar faces. Dead or alive. You see many classmates luckily alive. But also a few that haven't gotten so lucky. Swallowing thickly, you watch as Professor Trewlany covers Lavender Brown's lifeless body with a thick blanket.

A call of your and Theo's names pulls you away and Sirius comes limping towards the both of you. Letting out a relieved sigh, you rush towards the man and hug him.

"Oh praise Merlin. Glad you're alive. Both of you." Sirius holds you close while he clasps Theo's shoulder. "Good to see you, son."

"Likewise, sir", nods Theo.

For a moment, even if it's just brief, almost all the people you care about are safe with you. If you only knew where Draco ran off to…

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326 @rinalouu @yazminetrahan @ellen3101 @comfyvic

[isaaujulii]

WHY GOD WHY COULDN’T THEY TREAT ALL THEIR CHARACTERS WITH RESPECT. The source material is endlessly fascinating and riddled with interesting storylines that can be followed and or improved upon(within reason) . Like you have the knight without honor whose only true light is a queen who he can never have. A woman whose life is tied to the men around her, which is her circumstance but she does nothing to try to help or ruin them but laments her part in everything. And i’m not saying the story can’t be built upon the relationship between rhaenyra and alicent.

It’s a great place to start. START. It can’t be just about them. Why don’t we see Jaeharys and the pressure he feels as a bastard and a possible future king. What about halaenas mental state her visions, and the fact she lost a whole child. And how come all of a sudden Aemond is kinslaying psychopath whose only goal is to become king, is there no internal conflict. Where’s that remorse and horror we saw at the end of season 1. Aegon is being made fun of every second and being ignored (and before u come at me i know he is a pos rapist, not defending him) nobody sees him as a threat even though he is QUITE LITERALLY THE KING.

Alicent is on her sad girl bs. And I LIKE ALICENT. Do you know how hard it is to make me dislike a character I originally loved. I thought her character was heading into an interesting direction feeling guilt and remorse about her actions because it is against everything she believes in. Because AGAIN they have hammered into the viewers that she is a religious. But she just becomes whishy washy. And not an active participant.

And don’t get me started on our titular protagonist a one Rhaneyra Targaryen. Have I mentioned my dislike at the obvious bias towards team black. Also why are there teams why is everything black and white. I don’t know about yall but I thought the whole point was there is no good and evil and that killing your family for a crown is wrong and morally unjust so therefore anyone participating in the war (as in anyone who has a choice, not the small folk forced to fight and stuff) is already not the greatest person. So i don’t know why they are acting like Rhaneyra is the goddamn messiah. They’re trying to make her a Daenerys variant. She’s not Dany and she shouldn’t be forced to be. Like their trying to make her a reasonable person who only wants best for people around her but she is also someone actively participating in a war with DRAGONS and as everyone keeps repeating there isn’t a war as bloody as one with dragons. And look i love a little hypocrisy in my characters i eat it up but this is ridiculous. You want a war so be in it. And if you don’t want to work with some people tough shit, you need others to get things done. And god forbid they challenge you on anything.

And look I tried to ignore it as much as i could but, do they hate men. Like genuinely asking, because every man in this show with the exception of like 2 characters is immensely unlikeable. And i’m not saying you can’t have unlikeable men. But like it’s a bit of a pattern. The women are the ones trying to avoid war and the men are all gung ho to lose their lives. Like i think they were trying to be feminist by making the women the only reasonable ones and men unreasonable. But they were so feminist that it came around to being misogynistic. Which i didn’t think could happen. And this being pseudo medieval time period with misogyny and all that it seems like there are parts where they are just like forcing patriarchy and other parts it does not seem to exist. Like equality is the norm and patriarchy is the outlier. Like there were women in charge of houses, which is not abnormal in of itself but like they don’t explain it. Like they could’ve been like the lord of that house is ill and his lady-wife takes care of everything. Or been like she’s in the fighting because she has a talent for it and is a bastard. Like I don’t know if any of you have seen the show Black Sails but one of the characters Eleanor basically runs pirate island and that doesn’t make sense because it the 1700’s but it’s explained that her father put her in charge because she was raised there and had a mind for business. And I know it’s a sad thing to be like a woman can only have power in proximity to a man. But like aren’t they going for realism, that’s what was so intriguing about the game of thrones universe. How people given shit circumstances rise above them. And some of these people happen to be women. If this was like one of those comfy fantasy with like fantasy creatures and like loose plots and there aren’t really rules and modern sensibilities are ingrained then I could dig it. Like yah you go girl be a pirate and you be a merchant and you are an advisor to the king. abut this isn’t that. And I can already see how an argument can be made that the entire show is overcoming the circumstances of your birthright being taken because you are a woman. Which I will reply that like I said earlier in order to do that they need the women to have agency and push for it or let it go. Which is options that Rhaneyra has.

And maybe i’m wrong and all those loose plot threads and bizarre character choices will payoff in season 3 and i’ll be the weirdo who doubted them.

[evolutionsvoid]

While constructs and other artificially created forms of life can be found in nearly any faction, few can rival the Academy of Veritas Mundus in their ingenuity and craftsmanship. Of course, who can be surprised that the institution so thoroughly devoted into unlocking the secrets of the world is the one whose inventions are rarely beaten? Their rabid desire to learn more and uncover all that can be found could be admirable, but the Church has done well to show the people what can come from such a want. Be it propaganda or no, there is no denying the avarice and coldness that can come from it. They do not waste time on frivolous matters or feelings, wanting only progress and breakthrough. Folks who have encountered some of these members do find them distant and absorbed in thought, more prone to seeing other people as a talking pile of materials and specimens rather than living beings. It is no wonder the Church has turned many against them with such ease. That, and many of their creations are so terrifying, that it is hard for the common man to find comfort in such a faction.

The dracomatons can be lumped into that category, of Academy inventions that have only filled people with fear rather than inspired. But it of course brings the eternal question of if people hate them because of these monstrous creations, or if the Academy builds such potent weapons because people hate them? Regardless, these constructs of verdigris and draconic design are the famed creations of the Antiquaries, whose reverence to the dragons has turned to obsession and imitation. While their shells are made from their curse and their forms are forged in their likeness, the dracomatons bear little in true dragonhood. They bear no Primal Flame, and do not possess any real dragon pieces in their body. These constructs were made as tools and means of defense, their failure of achieving true dragonhood well accepted. And when the Academy joined the great war that consumed the Church, these automatons would be further churned out to aid in the cause.

The Janggan dracomaton is one such construct, gliding across the skies on open wings. Like the rest of its kind, it is built of verdigris. While it may fly through the heavens like the Huo Long type, this one uses wings to achieve its flight. Infused membrane make the wings sturdier and harder to puncture, and its aerodynamic form lets it slice through the air. It soars higher than the other, daring to the touch the clouds. This makes weapon all the more fitting, as its open maw is capable of unleashing a powerful bolt of crimson lightning. With specially crafted eyes, it can target foes far below on the ground, and let loose a single devastating shot to fry them. As if the very gods above chose to smite them. Spikes upon their wings can also fire off a volley of bloody sparks, swooping low to riddle foes with bolts or send platoons scrambling in terror. Its place in the heavens isn't just for a vulture eye view of the land, but also to aid in replenishing its weapon. Tall spikes running down its shell attracts crimson lightning, and it absorbs the energy when struck. These automatons have been programmed to seek out storm clouds, and feed off of this bloody weather.

Janggan dracomatons may be useful on the battlefield, but they are typically sent out for defense, or other purposes. Large institutes and forts of the Academy may have these soaring constructs readied upon their walls, launching them into the air when an invading force approaches. In some cases, one or two may already be on patrol, keeping an eye out for any stealthy attackers. A single shot will spell the end of of these intruders, as well as alert the guards that enemies are about.

With its soaring nature and ability to recharge with the weather, these constructs have also been used as means of communication and delivery. Messages or small bundles of supplies may be hooked upon the claw beneath its body, which it can then deliver to certain parties. In a time of war, message delivery and supply movement is crucial, and these are just one of the many ways the Academy makes it happen. By swooping low to the ground, they can drop off their package, or use tendrils to snare items meant for pick up. Once the job is done, they are designed to return back to base, so that they can await their next mission.

Due to this job, Janggan dracomatons are typically targeted by enemy forces to intercept messages or steal valuable supplies. With how good the Academy is at developing medicines and crucial items, even common folk drool at the idea of getting their hands on such packages. This is why the constructs soar high in the air, using height to avoid attacks and clouds to cover their journey. And while some have still succeeded in downing a few of these automatons, the task is not easy. Not only do they blast the area with lightning, but their spiny bodies can also stab and maim. More than one interceptor has learned the hard way that mortally wounded Janggan that are plummeting to earth will use the last of their abilities to aim their bodies at their attacker. Like a javelin from the gods, the would-be thief is impaled by their prey and perishes with it.

It should also be noted that the Academy is no order of fools. It didn't take long for them to see these efforts, and respond in kind. Messages sent are always in code, robbing foes of any crucial information. The best they can do is simply stop its delivery. Packages of supplies are often specially tailored to the Academy's needs and their purpose well known to its members. Thus, they leave out crucial instructions on how to use said supplies, or slip in fake items that any ally would know to ignore. These stolen blessings can quickly turn to a curse, when eager folk try to use the "medicine" they have claimed, only to find it nothing but poison when improperly mixed. Academy members know the subtle details to their bottling, and the mere absence of a few brush strokes will clue them in to this deadly deception. Some supplies are simply too complicated for others to understand, either spoiling their use or blowing themselves up in their attempts. And of course there is the fact that this dracomatons can be used for bombing, and the package they carry is no gift...

Even when they don't carry a deadly payload, the Academy knows that their presence draws attention. As a result, Janggan may simply be decoys or carrying dupe messages, taking the focus of foes while another messenger slips by. Attempting to ground these constructs may win you nothing by an empty bundle and several dead men. Or even worse, it was sent out on this route as bait for repeat offenders. Thieves who become too much of a thorn in the side of the Academy may only signal their location by dropping one of these gliders. The fall of the construct is watched by an Academy member who has secretly been following its flight, and they shall pounce when the scavengers rush in to claim their prize. This tactic has succeeded in making would-be bandits take pause, as they have heard the tales of those who felled a baited construct. Are they willing to risk the lives of their entire group, or family, if this deed brings a Surgeon to their doorstep? Or perhaps, someone far worse....

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

"Janggan Dracomaton"

Another dracomaton, which @Lediblock2 helped me think of!

[witheredoffherwitch]

Why do you find Alysmond compelling at all? After he's with Alys, he seems to lose all motivation. He betrays his family, and without thinking rushes after Daemon - ultimately resulting in his demise. It's strange for fans of Aemond to ship them together as it appears that Alys is the cause of Aemond's downfall.

Hi nonnie, thanks for being polite in the asks.

First of all, Aemond was spiralling long before he met Alys. He was famously declared a kinslayer - and therefore 'cursed in the eyes of both men and gods'. Aemond's actions not only jumpstarted the civil war, but also resulted in his own king to lose their heir --- AND left his queen on the brink of madness, ultimately costing their faction a skilled dragonrider. We see Aemond making it to Harrenhal only after he becomes Prince Regent... and by then much has passed - and in many ways, the claims of his role being his brother's greatest asset was somehow looking more and more dubious.

Many fans consider one of the Alysmond characters to be a 'victim,' and that may or may not be true. However, based on our observations of the show, it's unlikely that Aemond would take her by force. We can assume that Aemond is someone who has little to no interest in taking bedmates or lovers, and on top of that, we also learn that he was a victim of unwanted sexual advances when his brother took him to a brothel for his thirteenth nameday. This "we men have no taste for depravities" Aemond doesn't scream as someone who would rape or even coerce any woman into an unwanted sexual relationship. Moreover, his distaste for Aegon's proclivities further demonstrates why he initially sees his brother to be inferior or, in his own words, 'a drunken wastrel who's never taken half a interest in his birthright'. Instead, he is the only male in the Targaryen family to show any kindness and understanding towards women in his life - namely, Alicent and Helaena. Contrary to what many accuse him on this platform, Aemond's character has not once uttered any derogatory term against his half-sister. Instead, we have only seen two men using the word 'cunt' - and those two are Daemon and Criston!

Now coming to the subject of Alys - she is introduced as a bastard of House Strong. Many fans mistakenly think that all bastards are treated the same way as Jon Snow or Strong bastards. But there is little evidence to believe that Alys was 1) treated right by other members of House Strong, or 2) even considered a kin by her own blood. Bastards were considered shameful to any great house, and they served as reminders of the lords/ladies who had broken their marital vows by pursuing intimate relationships outside their marriage. It's a massive taint on their honor. In addition to that, Alys was a wet-nurse after having stillborns - and there is no evidence to suggest that she was anything more than a servant serving under House Strong. Furthermore, she was believed by many to be a witch which will not yield many positive engagements for her in this world of Westeros.

Thirdly, coming to the question of why I find them compelling - well, LOOK AT THEM! A kinslayer and his witch queen coming together to make a bloody mess in their way. These two are every gothic fan's wet dream. A bastard witch who is reviled by her own kin AND the kinslayer with a conqueror's dragon who is feared by many around him! Most Alysmond fans see these two people - who are an unlikely couple in every other sense - come together (for even a brief period) to relieve the loneliness that has plagued them both in their lives! And if we go by Aemond's characterisation in the show, the couple could be shown as two misunderstood characters who might seek solace in each other's company.. and can find a common ground as social outcasts. (This is obviously a speculation and should not be considered as a gospel truth)

Now the world of asoiaf is riddled with many problematic ships, however I would argue that Alysmond is definitely one of the tamer ones. Alys is older while Aemond is the prince, and although some say she groomed him, it should not be forgotten that in this very patriarchal world, he holds absolute power over her. Unlike his first sexual encounter, he is not only a willing partner but is believed to be the one who had initiated it. On the other hand, I have already reiterated why I believe Aemond may not be the kind to rape her; moreover, Alys is not shown as some hapless damsel without any choice -- she becomes his closest confidante, to the point that Team Black holds her accountable for leading him to his death!

At last, although you may think Aemond lost his entire purpose after meeting Alys and ended up 'betraying' his family, a lot of fans however believe that his purpose changed from beating Rhaenyra to protecting his family - which he did by standing up to Daemon. Although Aemond's death was a great setback for the Green faction, Daemon's death likewise eliminated the biggest obstacle for his family, Alys and their unborn child.

[disorganizedkitten]

Hello! You've found The Blog! Welcome to the Masterlist!

Ao3 | Discord | Main Blog | Reblog Blog | Writing Archive

Links may be finicky, in the meantime, if something looks interesting ask me about it!

Coldest Girl In Coldtown

And I Loved You So Much I Turned Around

Behind Borrowed Blood

Bloody Phosphenes

By Definition, We’re Not Insane Yet

If Home Is Where The Heart Is, Where Do The Heartless Rest?

Infected Pearl au

No Pandemic Au

Pearl Bach And The Horrible Terrible No Good Very Bad (88) Days

Thorns and Tombstones

Time Loop

"1800s" au

Harry Potter

A Conspiracy Of Errors

A Week In A Day

And Salt The Earth Behind You

Antithesis / Charlie's Demons

Arial Anarchy

Cobra Lily

Dark As Dried Blood

Dark Magic For Dummies

Emotional Support Cookies

Gentle As Flaking Blood

Harry Potter Does Not Exist (A Presentation)

Hyacinth

I'm Gonna Kill Santa Claus (But Uno Reverse)

Incubus

It’s Only Right As A Math Problem

Judge My Carmine Fingertips (It Won't Make Them Clean)

No Rest For The Wicked

Not Every Open Wound (Is Simply Healed By Time)

Not (Our Parents’) Children 

Nothing Like A Trail Of Blood To Lead You Home

Obliviate

Seven Months Away

Swing a Scepter, Wear A Crown

The Potter-Riddle foundation for abandoned children

The Soul Feels Like The Universe / I Feel As Though I've Been On This Earth Before

There Is Magic In Every Living Thing

Three War Orphans In A Magic Castle

War Crimes Verse

Win Come Late

You Held My Heart In Your Hands

Miraculous Ladybug

A Bug To Bee Talk

A Day In The Life Of - Mafia Au

A Miraculous Mix Up

A Study In Friendship

ANJR

Be Still My Undead Heart

Bursting Bubbles of Bad Luck

Chronicles of Ladybug and Baset

Climbing the Louvre

Depth of Cold

Four is Quantic but five is too

G-day: a celebration of Girlfriends and Glitter

Going outside (for more than the view)

Is It Really Safe?

It's in the blood

I’m Literally Right Here

Luck of the claws

Miracle Fighters

Moving Places

My Safety Isn’t The Concern

No Longer A Villian

Paper Lanterns

Plume Reign

Red’s the Color Of Your Heart

Rena

Scarlet Swords

Shades of Warmth

Sharing is Caring

Skipped a Step

Sunshine and Roses

The Marinette Lucky Charm

These Hopeless Helpless Miraculous-Wielding Romantics

We Recover Only To Be Broken Again

You’ll Survive

Crossover Fics

#girlsupportinggirls

Carrying capacity

Circus au / Into The Mixing Bowl

Closer Than Friends

Exchange of blades

Feathers and Shells

Geronimo Weasley

Ghostinette

Gifts Between Girls

How To Live (When You've Long Been Dead)

Immortal Children

Ivory Shadows

Jaded eyes, stolen stories (Jaded eyes, poached prophecies)

Jagged Leaves

Life goes on

Location Soulmate au

Marinette's Guide To Adopting The Local Vigilante

Power he knows not

Princess Mara au

Queen, Devil, Champion

Recruiting Red

Robbery chatfic

Seven Faces over Seven Continents

Switching and Swapping

Tales of the Tacticional Twins

Talon mindshare

Tim Drake-Wayne vs Albus Dumbledore

Trained Together

Two Can Keep A Secret If One Of Them Is Dead

Wine Aunts Salt au

Wishes Fishes

My Hero Academia

Borrow

Hold Your Bloody Head Up High

How Long Can Someone Be Lost

Lost In Translation

They Call Them Feral

We're All Dead Here

Wingfic

Scooby-Doo

Eldritch Doos au 

Gang Soulmate au

Summer camp au

HTTYD

Dragonborn

The one where Dagur is a good brother

The one where Dragon Riders are their own tribe | Feral Hiccup au #1

The One where Dragons are actually Aliens

The one where everyone is secretly friends

The one where Heather and Mala pop in during HTTYD1

The one where Hiccup and his brother kill the red death before realizing they’re brothers | Feral Hiccup au #4

The one where Hiccup Gets Hurt in the ring

The one where Hiccup Runs Away (and meets the wingmaidens) | Feral Hiccup au #2

The One Where Stoick Suffers Despite His Best Efforts | Feral Hiccup au #5

The one with the human sacrifice except Dagur is a faithful husband and very offended | Feral Hiccup au #3

JCA

Hypermnesia

Reacquisition

Danny Phantom

Age Swap Au

Three Feet To The Left

Walk Beside My Corpse (It's the memory that decays)

Welfare Check

Other

In The Vacuum You Left Behind

Keep Me In Balance

Prerecognition

The Fuzzy Duckling

The Name of Frankenstein

The Paris Fic

We Dared Open The Door

Some fics did not make the list. Considering how many I have, that’s not a surprise. They can live in the docs for a little while longer.

If you wanna chat; ask box is always open, and otherwise there’s the shared discord (mostly HP but I WILL eventually get us an entire CGIC area).

 If you’re interested in other topics! Nino Lahiffe Appreciation Squad Discord - Ethereal Grimoire Discord - Maribat Insanity II (link upon request)

 Otherwise, a wild DK may be spotted but I don’t have rights to those links and I’d rather catch you by the throat from behind. ^~^