#dm stories

[cherrycocaineee]

36. Draco Malfoy - Avada Kedavra

*Synopsis: During the war, Maggie finds a way back to Hogwarts as she’s worried about Draco and the friends she made there. She’s surprised to find all of the students and teachers standing before Voldemort, while ‘dead’ Harry Potter was being carried by Hagrid. Spotting Draco, she runs out to the center of the battlefield and calls his name. But a muggle at Hogwarts doesn’t exactly make Voldemort happy.*

*Warning - doesn’t follow the movie 100%, mentions of death, anger, and war. Whatever else is considered a warning*

*Maggie’s p.o.v*

Every inch of my body felt like it was broken when I woke up in the middle of my Grandmother’s old farmhouse. There was a hole in the roof and the speculation of whether or not I fell through it came into question. I pulled myself off the ground; a layer of dust was collected on my clothes causing me to dust it off. Coughing from the cloud of dust, I stumbled out onto the porch and gasped desperately for some fresh air. I was greeted by the sickly green color of the England sky; the feeling that something was wrong burned me deep in my bones. As I stared up at the dark sky, the last couple of months hit me like a ton of bricks. Dumbledore was gone forever, just like Grandma Loral; Draco was a Deatheater, which he had refrained from telling me until the night he asked me to see him, and was meant to kill Dumbledore himself. Draco didn’t know that I had witnessed him trying to kill Dumbledore but failing to do so, or me seeing the mark on his arm when he revealed it. Snape, in the end, was the one who had killed Dumbledore and was a Deatheater all along. Harry and I confronted Snape at the beginning of the school year and I had managed to get him alone as he ran off to avoid confrontation. Our conversation was heavy on my mind.

“Snape!” I yelled out; his body coming to an abrupt stop, “Why? Why did you do it?” “A muggle such as yourself could never understand,” he hissed. “You were his friend!” I yelled back, “and Draco! Where is he?” He watched me and time seemed to move ever so slow the longer he held his gaze. The inside of my throat felt raw and sweat was practically pouring from my skin. “I know Draco met with you,” Snape said, “at your Grandmother’s house after Dumbledore’s death. He told you everything despite what you are.” I swallowed hard, being reminded by the burning in my throat how dry it was. “I love him,” I said; Snape got closer to me. “Even after everything he is?” I couldn’t answer that because I didn’t know if I did. That night I couldn’t abandon him, he was in so much pain, but my feelings for him felt rocky. Every part of me wanted to hold on to that love but it didn’t seem practical with where he was heading. “Yes,” I stated. “Then forget about him. With you around, you’ll only put him in danger.”

The next thing I remembered was a flash of light and I was thrown here. For how long was beyond me; it could have been days, weeks, months. I collapsed on the steps of the porch, fresh tears spilling from my eyes as I tried to cope with all the events that have occurred in however many days it's been. It felt like I hadn’t cried in so long and this was much needed at a time like this. My entire world felt like it was crashing before me and there was nothing I could do. I was nothing more than a muggle and I didn’t hold anything powerful inside me like all of my friends and family. It was a curse being born the only muggle to a family of wizards and witches.

  When I was done crying, I picked myself back up and went inside. There must have been something left behind here; since no one was able to sell it so all of her belongings had remained here and sometimes I would come stay here when I missed her so much. I picked up an old, tattered photo album and plopped down on the withering couch before flipping it open and looking through the photos. Like every other photo in the magic world, these photos moved revealing a few seconds before and a few seconds after the snap of the camera. There were tons of photos: my grandmother with her late husband who I had never had the pleasure of meeting, my parents who had died when I was terribly young; they were so young and in love based on the stories I was told and the photos I saw, then there was Draco and I. Some of the pictures I hadn’t known were being taken, for example, the two of us sitting in the garden; Draco’s head rested in my lap while I read to him from one of the many story books I kept around. He was watching me so lovingly, not an ounce of hatred in his eyes or heart that day. Another photo was taken with our knowledge; Draco had snuck away from school to see me on a particularly warm day and we were outside enjoying a fresh bowl of cut watermelon. His arms were wrapped around my waist and I was feeding him a piece when Grandma had snapped the photo. I smiled, a stray tear slipping off my cheek and onto the old paper.

  I flipped to the next page which happened to also be the last page of the album. There was something written on the empty page in black ink in perfect, loopy handwriting that belonged to my Grandmother. The words on the page were addressed to me which was odd because I had never seen them before. I traced my fingers over the ink as I read the inscription.

“Those who tell you that magic is the most powerful force known to all have never known the true power of absolute, undying love. Maggie, you may be a muggle but your love and heart are just as powerful as any wand.”

All of the memories of Draco and I flooded through my mind as I was reminded of all the times I was truly in love with this boy. Even now my heart aches to be near him, to touch him, to breathe in the unforgettable scent of his expensive cologne. Of course I was angry at him from betraying all of Hogwarts by becoming a Deatheater, and for him to not tell me or trust me with that information was heartbreaking but there was no denying that I was terribly in love with him because there was a better side to him than all of this. I needed to get back to Hogwarts and check on all of my friends, and I needed to find Draco. Fortunately I had managed to pick up a few tricks on how to get to and from Hogwarts after being there for so long. Not many ways worked for muggles but there were a few including a portkey which I was fortunate to own thanks to Grandma Loral. It was a stupid looking portkey, a piece of yarn with a paperclip attached to it but it was damn powerful. This portkey allowed for me to transport myself anywhere my Grandmother had been and that included Hogwarts. Taking a deep breath, I fished the object out of my jean pocket. As soon as my fingers touched the odd piece of trash, I was transported back to Hogwarts with a single thought of the school in my head.

   It didn’t matter how many times I used this thing, I would never be use to the sudden landing of the portkey. My knees always buckled and I always ended up falling down because of the lack of balance in my body. Oddly enough, there was no one around. Pulling myself from the ground, I did a swift scan of the halls of Hogwarts. They were in ruins; dirt and gravel and chunks of other pieces of the building were scattered all over the place. Something had definitely happened here. I ran to the window and popped my head out. Everyone was standing out there in front with defeated looks on their faces. Standing a couple of feet away from the people I’ve grown to call family was an ungodly pale man in dark robes in front of an even larger group of darkly dressed people. It hit me instantly, this was the man everyone had been scared of, who Draco had told me about that evening Dumbledore was murdered: Voldemort. Even from up here, I was terrified. Hagrid was walking forward with a person being held in his arms but I couldn’t really make out who it was. All I could really see was the sad look over Hagrid’s face as if he had just lost someone beloved to him. Then it hit me hard with the realization that it was Harry being cradled in Hagrid’s arms.

 From underneath I heard some murmuring but couldn’t make out the words. That is until Voldemort started speaking, his voice booming over the schoolyard.

 “Harry Potter…is dead!” He yelled.

 “No! No!” Ginny screamed, trying to push herself forward.

“Silence!” Voldemort bellowed, raising his wand and throwing a spell towards Ginny causing her to stumble backwards, “Stupid girl. Harry Potter is dead.”

  Every inch of my body felt hot and I found it harder and harder to breathe as I held back more tears.

“From this day forth,” Voldemort continued, “you put your faith…in me. Harry Potter is dead! And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us…or die.”

From behind Voldemort stood a man who looked like a much older Draco; he lifted his hands and waved frantically forward. I could hear his voice as clear as day as he called out.

  “Draco! Draco.”

  But even in the crowd I could hardly make him out because of the people surrounding him. Then a woman stepped forward, her black hair had a single streak of white in it. She raised her arms openly and spoke in a soothing voice.

  “Draco, come.”

Draco emerged from the crowd and slowly approached Voldemort and his family. A low, eerie chuckle left Voldemort’s lips as he reached his arms out to greet Draco.

  “Well done, Draco. Well done.”

  I watched as Draco made his way to his parents slowly before holding onto who I assumed was his mother. The look on my face made my heart ache. He looked sad and defeated, like he didn’t want to be where he was anymore. Not wasting another second standing at this window, I ran off down the hall to the entrance. I could hear more chatting, a speech is what it sounded like but it wasn’t coming from Voldemort, instead it was coming from Neville. I rushed out the side of the building and some of the students turned to me, gasping at the mere sight of me. I scanned the area and saw Neville speaking to the entire crowd while holding something in his hand, it looked like the sorting hat. He pulled out a sword from the hat ready to use it. That’s when Harry fell out of Hagrid’s arms and pointed his wand.

  “Confringo!”

 The spell blasted towards the snake beside Voldemort rather than at him but it bounced off and into the crowd of Deatheaters. Harry took off running and some of the Deatheaters started to leave at the sudden situation; most of them were being yelled at by some frizzy haired woman who wanted them to stay and fight. I pushed past everyone, even passed Professor McGonagall who tried to grab me but failed. Voldemort was shooting random spells at Harry, who managed to dodge a lot of them but used his wand to get rid of the ones he couldn’t. I ran past him but muggles have a different scent than wizards or witches, they lack the smell of magic, so as soon as I ran past him he noticed me. His eyes tearing away from Harry and I could practically hear him snarl behind me.

  “Muggle,” he hissed, angrily.

 “Maggie! No!” Harry yelled.

  “Draco!” I screamed.

  The blonde haired boy stopped and turned around quickly, his eyes almost popping out of his head at the sight of me.

  “Draco! I love you!” I called out, “I’ll always love you! No matter what! Do you hear me?! I love you, Draco Malfoy!”

*Draco’s p.o.v*

“I love you, Draco Malfoy!” Maggie yelled towards me.

   Tears started to stream down my face and I yanked myself away from my mother and father as they desperately tried to reach me. The single sight of Maggie filled me with so much warmth, and all I needed was for her to be in my arms. As I started walking faster towards her, her own feet carrying her even faster to meet me, I spotted Voldemort raising his wand towards her. Everything felt slow and I could hear the sound of my heart beating inside my chest rapidly as I watched.

  “Maggie!” I cried, time returning back to its normal path and more tears spilling from my face.

 She didn’t bother turning around as if she knew what was coming next. Instead, she smiled at me.

  “Avada Kedavra!” Voldemort hollered.

 A green flashing light soared through the sky towards her.

  “Maggie!” I screamed just as the flash of green light hit her.

I felt my mother grab me, trying to drag me away but I just pulled myself away from her again and ran to Maggie’s body that now lay on the ground. I fell to my knees and grabbed her body; it was heavy and limp with no sign of movement. My tears fell onto her face as I cried.

 “No, please. Maggie, please, wake up.”

  Voldemort raised his wand at me this time but his spell was defiled by Potter causing the attention to be thrown back to him.

I pulled Maggie’s body upwards and hugged her tightly as I sobbed; my mother’s hands touched my shoulder as she knelt beside me. She tried to pull Maggie out of my arms but I didn’t allow it.

  “I love her!” I cried out, “Don’t take her away from me!”

[littlefoxess]

[dungeonsandkobolds]

Heyya! Thanks for your advice the other time.

I thought I'd give you an update about my first one-shot as DM with one player. The game ran long - I thought we'd finish the entire adventure in 2 hours - more fool me! Instead, we only got through half the story in 4 hours. Here's what happend (Long Post, sorry in advance)

Simply put, I misunderstood how the player liked to play and the PC's motivations.

The plot was intended to feature a Lvl 10 rogue (the PC) whose mouse companion was kidnapped, and had to infiltrate the BBEG's dungeons to rescue it and also save the town.

I did not realise that the player was (overly) cautious - stopping everywhere and making perception, insight and other checks to see if anyone was lying, spotting any traps etc, rather than just allowing the play to happen and dealing with anything that occurred (espcially since she was Level 10, i wasn't going to kill her straight up). This led to more problems:

The time blew out - I started the PC pretty much at the dungeon, and intended the backstory to be told through a flashback scene (selfishly, making it a fait accompli that the incident already happened). But because I gave scope for the PC to roleplay in that scene, she interrogated everyone and distrusted the information the NPCs provided to her, went off on her own tangent and explorations, and basically refused to be 'helped along' to get to the actual story.

She had a +13 to perception, so i had to artifically raise the DC for any checks she wanted to make, and I had to (unconsciously) railroad her into finishing the investigations and go straight to the dungeon. For example, the NPC told her about the BBEG and directions to the dungeon. She wanted to ask the rats who lived in the town about intel. I had to do some tap-dancing and tell her the rats are gone becuase the BBEG experimented on them so they all fled. (I did allow her to make a History check and find basic information that way though)

I wanted to make the encounter a 'ticking clock' - save the world in 4 hours kind of thing - but she basically "refused" to accept that and spent 1 hour casting Find Familiar and other spells just to make it so that she had extra eyes etc. As a player, she refused to be hurried along by me.

The main area of contention was when she entered Room 2 of the dungeon where she would encounter Animated Armor that activated (1) when she moved to the centre of the room and (2) because she didn't pickpocket the guard and got his security amulet. The Armor had False Appearance as a feat, which meant that despite her 19 perception check she wouldn't spot them. When they activated, she pretty much threw a tantrum because I told her she didn't spot any traps. I had to metagame at that point and say that the armor had False Appearance, although my bad was I didn't give enough details about the guards's uniforms or the room/statues to potentially hint that there was the amulet.

She did defeat the Armor anyway like i knew she would - those Armor were only CR 1 with like 30HP.

There were still some positives over the night:

It did provide an opportunity for me to improvise and change my story. I was initially going to make the NPC who gave the information doing so for nefarious ends, but because of the player I had to play the NPC as just someone who was honestly motivated to save the town. This would be a much more interesting motivation when (spoiler!) the NPC would appear at the end and fight the PC.

I got to actually play out mechanics of combat, storytelling and roleplay. Even though I had to artifically inflate DC checks to compensate for the PC's high ability, I could justify it in the story (and told the player verbally when I did).

The story is still mostly on track.

I did have the learning experience of making more notes to tell players, specifically things that could be considered hints to players to allow them to avoid or better beat my encounters.

I am concerned when we play again though, because the next encounter is a puzzle one with more traps, and she might not like it if I carry on with my plans (basically, she has to pick 5 locks. Every lock she fails a 'ghost' emerges and tries to banish her from the room. How do I alert her without a perception check basically telling her what is going to happen?)

Overall, it's a bit of a mixed feeling. I really enjoy the roleplaying aspect of DnD and it's difficult when this player is almost fighting me as the DM and not letting the story go on. I do realise that it's unfair to think this way though - it's a collaborative story - but I wish that she would be a little bit more collaborative in trying to tell the story, and realise I want her to win as much as she does (just making it slightly more challenging)

I also admit it wasn't a shining positive first example of DM-ing, but I'm hopeful I get to learn more by doing more.

Apologies for the long text, let me know if anything is unclear. I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

Omg I love an update! Some of this tbh is just teething issues (although time always either goes longer or shorter than you think, that's just the facts of DM-ing haha). And I love that you're dissecting it to learn from the session (genuinely a fantastic thing to do)

With the collaborative story - remember it's collaborative on both ends, you both have to meet each other in the middle (and it sounds like your player may not have always been doing that? It's the player's first time too yeah? sounds like at least). So it's not always on the DM to 'fix' everything

I'd say most of it is teething issues but there's 2 things just to like watch out for with your player (remember I'm not at the table tho) - not following the ticking clock scenario, and not accepting that sometimes even a skill check can't beat everything. That kinda goes into territory of resisting the basic concepts of the story and sounds like it probs wasn't fair to you. I might when describing the guard mention that there's like a chain poking out of his pocket and then it's up to them to investigate? But apart from that...

I think my suggestion for the ghost thing would be some kind of riddle/cypher/note that she has to solve to get the clue about what will happen? Doesn't always have to be a check per se and it'll give her the option of just going ahead or having more info. Plus solving those kind of puzzles can add to the interactivity of the game

It sounds like you're doing really well though!!!! And have put a lot of care and thought into the session!!

I hope you had some fun even despite frustrations :)

Feel free to come with more questions or just updates! I love hearing people's DnD stories

[whimsicalsesquipedalian]

The last D&D campaign I ran I had a heap of my NPCs lying to my players because there was a war happening in the world the campaign was set in, and so there was a big propaganda campaign happening from both sides. And then had the everyday people and the world contradicting those ideas to show the reality of what was happening.

Never was an insight check made because the players were just taking everything that an important NPC said about the world as an official “lore dump” from the DM. And then when the real information would come out, they would get so angry and frustrated that they had contradictory intel. To the point where they started getting snippy with me because my world didn’t make sense and they didn’t understand what to do because I kept giving them contradictory information.

And I literally had to sit the group down and say that NPCs WILL lie to you for their own agenda. As the DM I am allowed to do that to help tell my story. If you can’t tell the difference, there is a whole ability geared towards that exact thing that you can use. But it is not my job to always give you 100% true information all the time through my NPCs. They will lie. That’s how the game works. That’s how stories work. If you as the players can lie for your own agenda. Assume all the NPCs have that skill too.

I’m not here to give you truth, I’m here to make a story. Part of that story is the danger of lies and misinformation in war time. It’s a shame that my players proved that particular theme so thoroughly they didn’t even notice they were doing it.

it never fails to surprise me how some people will simply take every single thing in a story at face value and assume that what the characters are saying or doing or thinking must always be true even when all of the context clues are screaming the opposite

[acorviart]

not to sound like a boomer, but I need some people to learn how to write emails in a semi-professional (at the very least) format so you're not cold emailing a business/potential employer/any other stranger about formal matters in the exact same way you'd DM a close friend on instagram

the formality/language can loosen up in the email chain once you've established a rapport and you match the other person if they're being less formal, but please don't have the very first email you send a stranger be written in all lowercase ultra-casual sms slang with no greeting or signature and a billion emojis

[ibahibut]

💀: Fewer wounds, more kisses from me.

🐦‍⬛: Contract's accepted, mi amor.

Music inspiration: A Little Death by The Neighbourhood

[criticalsyourroles]

now i've watched a fair amount of d&d i've started to pick up on the differences between dm style i think

like brennan IS all the bad guys. every game he dms is brennan vs the players. he makes npcs and battles that make his friends throw things at him and he smirks the whole time. he makes them tell him their worst fears and then he makes them do it. and it's awful and amazing and really funny

matt IS exandria. his characters and battles never feel written or constructed, they just feel like things that already existed in the world. it's all about verisimilitude with him, and he's amazing at it. he tends to fade into the background and let the players react to the story and it makes everything he does incredibly cinematic

aabria dms like she's just another player at the table reacting to the story, right up until someone gets lulled into a false sense of security and tries to fool around and THEN she throws a curveball by making them deal with the consequences of their choices. she's like oh you think that's funny?? then i'm about to be hilarious, bitch. and she keeps getting away with it bc she's just that good!

basically, brennan's an evil bastard, matt's the world, and aabria's the queen of consequences

or:

brennan - fuck

matt - around

aabria - find out

[mybrainisthickerthanmyass]

Just had my players fight an oread which went to hide in lava (oread are invisible when fully in fire, I extended that to lava) and was killed in the lava and one of my barbarians just kept attacking the lava even after the oread was fully dead and no longer attacking.

The barbarian lost 5 handaxes, 4 javelins, and a warpick to the lava.

The other barbarian lost a javelin too and the fighter’s double bladed scimitar is now a normal scimitar

10/10 recommend

[acquired-stardust]

Yu-Gi-Oh! Dark Duel Stories Gameboy Color 1999

[yuri-puppies]

apparently controversial opinion (????), but I really like this question-and-answer from the recent English-language interview with Ryoko Kui

Senshi is a very unselfconscious person; he doesn't care about how he is perceived as long as he gets to do his own thing. I felt a little "oh, duh" when I read it - of course he doesn't care about flashing bulge

more importantly, I love it as an insight of the kind of mental exercise that defines dunmeshi - Kui-sensei exploring things that make her uncomfortable. she takes the time to identify the discomfort (old man in underwear) and think through what makes someone behave that way, or what might be the appeal of something that is unappealing to her. it's the thought process that gave us such a wealth of earnestly depicted characters to whom we are encouraged to extend compassion and understanding

[kitteecassee]

care to join me? more on my private story 🧼

[cherrycocaineee]

29. Draco Malfoy - Stargazing

*Maggie’s p.o.v*

The day my grandmother passed away was one of the hardest days of my life, and what made it even harder was that I was alone. I didn’t know anyone who showed up at the funeral besides Dumbledore, however, he was only there for a mere ten minutes. There was something important that he had to do, so he couldn’t stay long which left me all alone once again.  After the funeral, while I was packing my belongings since I couldn’t stay at my grandmother’s farmhouse, Dumbledore paid me another visit. “How are you doing, Maggie?” Dumbledore questioned, his old, blue eyes watching me as I made the two of us a cup of tea. “I’m okay,” I shrugged, “I mean, I’m not but you know.”  I brought the tea over to the table and sat down across from Dumbledore. I passed him his teacup along with the cream and sugar.  “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice quiet. “Of course,” I whispered. After putting some sugar into my own tea, skipping the cream, I brought it to my lips and slowly sipped on it. The hot beverage coated my throat, sending a warm feeling rushing down my esophagus. Dumbledore looked up at me.  “Mr. Malfoy has grown a bit worried about you,” he added, “claims you haven’t been responding to his owls.”  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to Draco, I just didn’t want to involve him in my own problems when he’s already got so much to worry about on his own. I did tell him about my grandmother passing away, in hopes that maybe he’d attend the funeral with me but he didn’t. I won’t lie that did hurt my feelings.  “He’s got a lot of things already on his mind,” I answered, my cup clinking against my plate, “I don’t want to bother him with how I’m feeling. Plus I’ve got to finish packing and getting ready to go to an orphanage.”  Dumbledore’s cup clinked against his own plate. “Actually, there may be a way to keep you out of the orphanage.” My saddened green eyes stared up at my grandmother’s old friend with curiosity growing in them. He placed his hands in his lap, a smile stretched against his wrinkled face. “What do you mean?” I inquired. “I’ve spoken to the Ministry of Magic along with my professors at Hogwarts, and we’ve all agreed that you should be allowed to live on the grounds of Hogwarts. That is if you’d like.”  “But I’m not a witch,” I replied, “Isn’t that against the rules or something?”  Dumbledore laughed softly, his eyes squinting with joy. Before answering my question, Dumbledore picked up his tea and swallowed a large gulp of it; I took the time to take another drink of my own. When the two of us were finished, Dumbledore continued.  “You may not be a witch, Maggie,” he said, “but you are the child of a vast lineage of witches and wizards. Just because you are the only one with no magical ability doesn’t make you any less important than them. Hogwarts would be honored to have you there, and so would I, as your legal guardian.”   And for the first time in weeks, I felt extremely happy. I wasn’t going to be alone after all. Dumbledore told me that he would give me as much time as I needed to pack and say goodbye to my grandmother’s farmhouse. I was grateful for it greatly, and promised that I wouldn’t take any longer than a week. We finished our tea before he had to head back to Hogwarts. I thanked him for stopping and saw him out the door. After a week, I was all settled into a room at Hogwarts and my grandmother’s house was officially sold. Tonight Dumbledore wanted to introduce me to the students and teachers during dinner; and since I didn’t have a house, I’d be allowed to sit wherever I’d like. I wasn’t sure where I was going to sit. Draco explained to me a long time ago that his father hated muggles, so I don’t think I’d be allowed to sit with him or his friends. From what I understood, no one here knew that Draco and I were friends, let alone a couple. A quiet sigh left my lips as I plopped down on my new bed; my suitcase sitting beside my feet. Even though I was grateful to Dumbledore for taking me in, I was still anxious about the things to be here. I didn’t fit in in the muggle world, my whole family being witches or wizards, but I also didn’t fit in with everyone here because despite my lineage, I didn’t possess magical powers. I heard the clock chime, and after the second chime there was a knock on my bedroom door. I quickly scurried to my feet and went to the door, pulling it open just as fast. Standing there was a man who didn’t fit in the door frame at all, he was much taller and larger than the natural man.  “Ms. Maggie Belle,” he said, his voice booming yet warm and welcoming, “Dumbledore has asked me to fetch you from yer bedroom.” “Oh, right. I’m coming,” I answered, closing the door behind me as I entered the hallway.  I could finally see his face. He had long, bushy black hair that was a mess with curls and a matching beard that also made it hard to see his face. But I could still see his deep, brown eyes that looked black without any real light. I didn’t notice that he was covered in dirt and soot, his hands had large calluses on them probably from working outside. Despite his large and scruffy appearance, he seemed friendly enough.  “What’s your name?” I asked politely, the two of us heading down the corridor halls. “Rubeus Hagrid, ‘m the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts,” he said proudly. “Oh! Well it’s great to meet you, Hagrid,” I smiled.  “It’s nice to finally meet you too, Ms. Maggie. Malfoy sure does seem fond o’ you.”  “You know about me and Draco?” “Only Dumbledore and I do,” he admitted, “we helped him be able to see ya during the break.”  I couldn’t help but smile. The rest of the way towards the dining hall, Hagrid and I got to know each other a little bit more. I was surprised to find out that Hagrid use to attend Hogwarts himself before he was expelled and forbidden to use magic. Apparently it was a nasty trick by a kid named Tom Riddle that ended up getting Hagrid expelled. By the sound of it, I knew it wasn’t really a trick and that it was intentional but I didn’t want to bring that up. He already sounded upset enough by it. To lighten the mood, I told Hagrid about me living with my grandmother. By the time we were finished talking, we reached the doors of the dining hall. Hagrid’s large, yet comforting hand touched my shoulder.  “You ready?” He asked. “Yes sir,” I answered, though I could still feel a ton of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.   Hagrid smiled reassuringly before opening the door. Inside the dining hall, it was like something I’d never seen before. There were floating candles hovering above the people inside, the ceiling wasn’t an actual ceiling but it depicted the night sky just outside the building. It was beautiful. There were a total of five, long tables inside the dining hall. The students, who were wearing different colored ties but pretty much the same uniform overall, sat at their own table. I remembered Draco telling me about the Hogwarts houses; there was Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Draco was a part of Slytherin which apparently a lot of people considered evil.   At the big table up front, there were a bunch of what I assumed to be teachers. I even spotted Dumbledore sitting in the middle of all of them. When he saw Hagrid and I walking into the dining hall, he stood up. Everyone’s eyes were on me. I scanned the room until my eyes landed on Draco’s, his eyes were filled with shock. I hadn’t told him I was moving into Hogwarts, once again not wanting to burden him with my problems when he had his own.  “Hagrid,” I whispered, “everyone’s looking at me.” “It’s just ‘cause yer new, Maggie,” he assured, “once you get to know ‘eryone, you’ll feel more comfortable.”  I nodded, feeling a little better about the situation. I met Dumbledore up by the podium, Hagrid joined the other teachers at the large dining table. Dumbledore smiled warmly but nothing was said between the two of us, instead, he turned his head towards the students and began. “Good evening,” his voice was loud, “I hope you are all enjoying the feast as well as your classes this year. As many of you know, a month ago, I had to step out for a while because a dear friend of mine passed away. Her name was Loral Belle, a fine friend and an even finer witch.”  There were some murmurs but they didn’t last long. “Loral was such a true friend that I felt it only right to bring her granddaughter, Maggie Belle, to Hogwarts and finish raising her. Maggie is a sweet, gentle, compassionate young woman who knows a lot about our kind. However, she herself possesses no magical ability.”  Lots more whispers erupted throughout the room, this time the word “muggle” could be heard loud and clear. Especially from the Slytherin table. I had my hands in front of me, my fingers gripping tightly at the hem of my shirt.  “You will welcome her as you have welcomed one another, and I hope that you will see the special qualities in Maggie that I’ve seen in her since the day she was born,” Dumbledore continued.  “But she’s a muggle,” someone from the Slytherin table said. “Draco, is your dad going to be okay with that thing being here?” Asked a brunette girl with a sort of puggish look to her face.  Draco’s hand clenched into a fast and I couldn’t tell if he was mad at me for being here or if he was mad at the girl for calling me a thing. Either way, I felt uneasy and uncomfortable.  “I have already spoken to the Ministry of Magic, and though Lucius Malfoy was displeased, everyone else has agreed to allow Maggie to reside here. So there is no need to worry.” After a few more words, Dumbledore concluded the conversation and let everyone get back to their feast. He then told me that I could sit wherever I pleased which sent a wave of anxiety rushing through me. Where the hell would I sit? No one seemed particularly fond of me. I wiped my sweaty palm against the fabric of my faded blue, skinny jeans while scanning over the dining hall. My legs felt like jello as I walked away from the podium; there were several pairs of eyes watching me.  “You can sit here,” a girl with light brown hair that was pinned; there were some visible curls. She sat across from two boys; one had red hair and freckles while the other boy had dark brown hair and a pair of circular, rimmed glasses. Relief washed over me as I made my way over to where she was seated. She scooted over allowing me to sit down and I thanked her.  “I’m Hermione Granger,” she greeted, “and they are Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.” “Nice to meet you three,” I replied, holding out my hand and shaking theirs.  “Maggie,” Harry said, “where are you from? You have a different accent than the rest of us.” “Oh! I’m from Salem, Massachusetts,” I replied, “I moved in with my grandmother when I was about ten.” “What happened to your parents?” Ron inquired, shoving mouthfuls of chicken into his wide cheeks. I didn’t like talking about my parents; I’d never even told Draco and God knows he’s been asking. It didn’t seem right to tell a complete stranger and to not talk to my boyfriend. “It’s a long story that I’d prefer not to get into.” Across from me, I saw Draco staring at me. And to my surprise, while everyone wasn’t looking at him, he smirked and winked at me. I felt my cheeks turn red and looked away quickly, gently biting on my bottom lip. No one else seemed to notice. After supper, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and I walked out of the dining hall together. They were telling me some of their stories while going to Hogwarts and it was absolutely crazy. Apparently, Voldemort, who a lot of people refused to call by name, was back and after Harry. And Harry Potter was apparently the boy who lived which I was never told. As the four of us were walking down the hall, Draco and his friends, or so I assumed they were, cut us off.  “Hello, Potter,” Draco hissed, his face upturned into a viciously, proud smirk, “how’s that head of yours, hm? Take any more hit to it, you’ll be even more brain dead than that idiotic Longbottom.”  This wasn’t a side of Draco that I normally saw; around me, he was kind, caring, loving, and gentle. So I was a bit shocked about his choice of words and the tone in his voice. However, I overlooked it, wanting to know more about Harry’s head injuries if I’d understood right.  “When did you hit your head?” I asked, the snarling smirk on Draco’s face vanishing.  “It’s nothing really,” Harry replied, “dementors.” “Not that you’d know anything about it,” that brunette girl said, “you’re nothing more than a puny, little muggle.”  Her voice was filled with bitterness, anger, and disgust. “Well, if you have a problem with me,” I declared, “then there’s no need for the two of us to speak to each other, right?” Then everything else was a complete blur and I was stunned by the events that overtook. Now Draco was arguing with Hermione. And what came out of his mouth sent more rage through me than anything else I’ve ever heard or encountered.  “No one asked for your opinion, you filthy, little mudblood,” he sneered.  And just as those words came out of his mouth, my hand smacked him in the mouth. Everyone, including myself, stood there shocked with wide eyes. Draco and I stared at each other, our eyes wide; hurt evident in his eyes while disappointment was evident in my own. “Excuse me,” I whispered, walking away; I could still feel all of their eyes on me. I don’t know how long I wandered, I just know that I ended up at the Astronomy Tower staring up at the crowding stars and constellations. My knees were pressed tightly against my chest, my arms were wrapped around my legs while I watched the stars and swaying clouds. Growing up in my grandmother’s farmhouse, I knew when it was going to rain and judging by the cloud patterns and the deep gray in them, there was a storm brewing. If I wasn’t under the roof of the Astronomy Tower, I would have thought the random stray tears falling from my eyes were raindrops. But they weren’t, they were tears. I guess I was still shocked by Draco’s sudden change in behavior. It was nasty and nothing that I’d ever seen before. How could I be so oblivious to it?   The sound of footsteps echoed behind me so I quickly dried my face so no one would see me crying. Just as I finished pushing away my tears, the footsteps came to a sudden stop behind me. They weren’t heavy enough to be Hagrid’s, so my next guess was Dumbledore.  “I don’t think this is going to work, Dumbledore,” I muttered, keeping my eyes glued to the view in front of me, “I just don’t belong at Hogwarts.” “That’s a shame,” that was Draco’s voice, “because now that you’re here, I’d get to see you more.” I snapped my head back to see him standing there, watching me; the previous hate from early no longer lingering in his pretty, blue-gray eyes. I glared at him, my anger still prominent, then turned away from him. “Go away, Draco,” I muttered, “I do not want to see you. Not right now.” Draco’s footsteps echoed once again and I thought he was leaving like I had told him to do, but instead, he sat beside me letting his legs dangle over the edge of the tower. I pinned my hand underneath my chin and kept staring ahead, not wanting to look at him.  “You’re mad at me,” Draco whispered. “Of course I am,” I replied, “I’m furious. You never told me how incredibly rude you were. You’re a bully, Draco, and I don’t like that.”   I relaxed my legs, letting them fall over the side of the tower as well. “I’m sorry,” Draco said, “I should have…I should have told you beforehand. I just never thought you’d find out.”  My piercing, emerald green eyes turned and stared into his blue ones. “Not find out?” I replied, “Draco…”  “Maggie, please,” Draco interrupted, “there’s lots of things that I’m not proud of, tons even. Things are complicated for me, I have a reputation to uphold being the son of someone like my father. A long time ago, I’d never even thought I’d be talking to a muggle, let alone in love with one. I’ve come a long way but I still have to do things the way I’ve always done them.”   He was watching me carefully, our eyes never leaving one anothers. I could see that he was upset and also ashamed for how he acted, yet he was still standing his ground. There was nothing I could do to change his mind, to help him understand that he didn’t have to be rude to others, he just simply had to. I frowned, my eyebrows squinting as I thought about what he had to say. Meanwhile, Draco moved closer to me, gently grabbing my hand with both of his and smiling. He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed a soft, warm kiss against the back of it. “I love you, Maggie.”  Despite everything, and despite that awful word Draco called Hermione, I couldn’t help but smile.  “I love you too, Draco.” Draco leaned over and grazed my lips with his, a smirk stretching across his face. We pulled away from each other, turning our attention to the night sky. Even through the brewing rain clouds, we could see the stars and constellations. He was still holding my hand, our shoulders now touching each other. “Did you know I was after a constellation?” Draco asked, keeping his eyes glued to the star-filled sky. “No,” I replied, honestly, “I thought you were named after your dad.”  A soft laugh left his lips, “lots of people do. But no, I was named after the Draco constellation. It was derived from the Latin term draconem.” “And what does that mean?” “Huge serpent.”   I made an “o” shape with my mouth, “wow!” My eyes turned away from the sky, staring at a peaceful, happier Draco.  “Where is it?” I asked.  He looked at me momentarily, smiled, then looked back towards the sky. His hand, which still held mine, lifted as he pointed to the Big Dipper constellation. “Do you see the Big Dipper there,” I nodded my head, “and the Little Dipper there,” once again, I nodded, “in between those two is the Draco constellation. It snakes its way through the Northern sky.”  “Like a serpent,” I amused. Draco laughed gently, “exactly.”   I rested my head on his shoulder. “Do you know any more constellations?” I asked. “Tons. My mother taught me,” he replied, “would you like me to show you?” “Yes, please.” “So polite,” he chuckled, “let's see. You were born on August 14, so you’re a Leo.”   Draco’s eyes examined the sky momentarily before he picked our hands up again and traced another constellation.  “Leo, the lion constellation,” he continued, “it doesn’t look like a lion in my opinion, I assume it’s only got that name because they both start with L but I do think it’s a rather good fit for you.” “How so?” “You’re confident, loyal, dangerously generous, everything a lion has really,” he answered, “besides dominant, we’ve already discovered you’re incredibly submissive.”  My cheeks burned a bright red as I remembered our time together when he stayed with me for a while. Draco laughed loudly, his voice bouncing off the Astronomy Tower. I couldn’t help but laugh too. For a while, Draco and I sat watching the stars together; he pointed out all of the possible constellations that we could see. I’d never known Draco to be so into constellations but it was an attractive quality that he possessed. Eventually the bell rang, signaling that it was time for bed so the two of us climbed to our feet and looked at each other.  “Seems we should be on our way,” he stated, “wouldn’t want either of us to get in trouble.” “I guess so,” I replied.   The two of us were quiet again. The cool wind glided peacefully through our hair; Draco’s hardly moved, probably because of the amount of gel he used. I noticed that he was staring at me but before I had the chance to say anything, he did.  “I’m sorry about Granda Loral, and I’m sorry I wasn’t able to attend the funeral. My father wouldn’t let me.” I smiled, “it’s okay.” More tears started collecting on my eyelid before slipping down my face. Draco reached forward and wiped it off; his hands were cool against my heated face. I closed my eyes and melted into his embrace.  “She’s proud of you, Mags,” he said, using my nickname that he hardly used, “Muggle or not, you were the best thing that she could ever have hoped for. And I feel the same way.”  “Thank you, Draco.”   He pressed a loving kiss to my temple before the two of us headed down the steps of the tower. We took our time, letting our hands cling onto each other for just a while longer. Draco looked down at me; he was a good four inches taller than me.  “We should meet up here more often, ya know,” he suggested, “we can be alone and I can teach you more about the constellations and whatever else you’d like to know.” “I’d like that,” I giggled.   He pulled me to a stop and pushed me against the wall, a smirk on his face. “And we could do…other things,” he suggested, “however, you’ll have to be quiet otherwise someone will hear you.”  I gently slapped his shoulder playfully, a soft giggle escaping my lips. “Pervert.” Draco licked his lips.  “Let’s get going before someone sees us,” he said, “then we’d both be in trouble.” Draco walked me to my new bedroom and kissed me goodnight. He promised he wouldn’t use the word “mudblood” again but said that he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t be mean. I acknowledged that he had a reputation to uphold for his friends and his father. Draco did promise to me that he wouldn’t pick on me because he loved me but he couldn’t stop others from doing it or it’d look like he was standing up for me and he didn’t want his dad finding out. That I understood, I knew all about his dad’s hatred of muggles.  Once again he kissed me goodnight and wished me a pleasant sleep. I did the same before watching him run off. When he was out of sight, I walked into my bedroom, closed the door behind me, and laid down in my bed without changing into pajamas. Even though I didn’t agree with how Draco was acting, I understood that he was under a lot of pressure from his family and the rest of Slytherin. So for now, I could deal with it, as long as Draco kept his promises.

[littlefoxess]

[viviraptor-art]

a nice sunset can make you do the weirdest things... ☀️

just something sappy for a certain someone's special day... and i'm a sucker for sunsets. is that enough alliteration? anyway, happy birthday, weevil! 🪲

[passingnights]

A flower, clutched and crushing in her hands, the blue-white staining and eating her fingertips— a cyanotype. She gazes across the battlefield. She sneaks into the bedchambers of a beloved she kept too close, kept too far. 

Karna stands in replaced positions. A Colin sized position. An Ariana sized position.

Her heart skips a beat as she skims over Deli’s haphazardly hidden notes. She finds motes of anger, of resentment, of despair and heartbreak at the corners of rapid heartbeats. She pulls and tugs at them, rearranging herself. Presentable. Useful. Disposable. 

She slides her note underneath the pillows of Delissandro Katzon’s bed. A quiet confession. A hopeful confession. She must survive.

She is dying, she is a child, she is in love. She hopes and she fears as tears crawl down her face and the rot eats her body. She knows the ways of war and the smell of murder better than the scent of a well prepared meal in the comforts of home. She knows the quick breath of death and the slow of a pulse better than the warmth of a family and the embrace of a lover. “She died nine years ago”.

At the bottom of the earth, in the embrace of Heart of the World, her story ends in a realm unknown to the rest. All the fighting to survive, the lies and the murder, the whispering of secret secrets and the blood dripping from the end of a blade. It all comes to a rest. Karna gives in to her exhaustion with an exhale (exhale, exhale). Eyes closed and a prayer to no god. A Hunger greets this tired warrior.

Cold steel rips apart her torn body. She dies and no one will mourn her. She dies and no mother, no sister, no lover will leave flowers by her gravestone, no eulogies sung, an insignificant name. 

She dies and she looks at the face of her lover. A letter remains underneath his pillows. Will he mourn for her?

“The only secret I have left, is that I love you” and in a title that was never made for her— “Signed, Sklad Karna Solara of Scoville”.

The Pawn resigns.

[axolotlclown]

We need to remember that Shubble stated that Wilbur would manipulate and gaslight friends and family. With this, we must be patient with streamers that were close to Wilbur. This was likely surprising and shocking for them. They may need time to come to terms with what has happened.

I have been vocal about how important it is for men to be critical about abusive behaviors. However, Wilbur had many close friends—some would even consider him family—and now they may feel they hardly knew him at all.

There is a deep stress felt by viewers. It is difficult to think we have given any amount of time or money to an abuser. Could you imagine a close friend right now? The pain and betrayal must sear. They need time to understand what has happened and come to terms with it. Many of them may not be live in the coming days (weeks even).

That being said, as time passes, criticism may be necessary. Complacency is not an option. Men that are willing to ignore abuse to protect an abuser are just as pathetic as the abusers themselves.

Let's give this situation time to breathe. I ask that we give patience and courtesy to those close to Wilbur at this time. But please do not forget that this happened. There may be a few streamers hoping to lay low and then drop a collab in a few months. Do not let them. This is too important.