#keep calling Wizard “he' but i don't actually know yet

[hyenabrainedpup]

Lil wizard update before bed :3 still too early to really handle him esp with how small he is but he tolerates having the camera near him so well :D my pretty lil boy

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

[rcmclachlan]

Relative Value (buck/tommy)

"And I feel for her, you know? I really do. The dissolution of a relationship, especially a marriage, feels like you're drowning in hot tar, and you spend every waking moment kicking your way to the surface to try and breathe. But if she brings up her divorce again while I'm in the middle of peeing? I'm going to divorce her head from her body."

Buck makes a face at the thought of Maddie's decapitated coworker. "Please don't send the 118 to that scene. I'm not so great with entrails these days. Send the 147—they deserve it after they botched that extrication on Monday." 

Maddie laughs, the sound tinny but comfortingly familiar coming through his phone's speakers. She'd propped her phone on Jee-Yun's dresser halfway through the call so she could put away laundry while she talked, and for the last five minutes he's been watching her fold Jee's clothes like she's being judged at the Olympics. 

It's nice to see that hasn't changed. Maddie should've been in jail years ago for the way she loads a dishwasher, but when it comes to laundry she's a goddamn wizard. When he was younger, his parents saddled him with taking out the trash and doing the dishes, but putting away the laundry was always Maddie's chore. She actually enjoyed it, the weirdo. She used to tell him the first whiff of warm Snuggle right out of the dryer was a cure-all. Also, she can fold a fitted sheet in under ten seconds. He'd timed her once.

Maddie takes an eye-wateringly orange shirt out of the laundry basket and with three decisive motions turns it into a perfect rectangle. If Jee ever decides she wants to go deer hunting, she'll be all set. "Since when are you not good with entrails?" 

"Since that guy was ripped in half last week."

It'd easily been the grizzliest car crash he'd ever been called to. It made the 405 pileup a few years back look like Disney on Ice. About halfway through tagging and bagging almost a dozen casualties strewn all over the westbound lanes of the Pomona Freeway, the guy responsible for the crash snapped awake while Hen and Chimney were setting up and drove off in a panic. The top-half of the motorist stuck under his car was dragged maybe sixty feet, and Buck had a front row seat to the sight of the poor guy's nerves and vasculature trailing behind him like squid tentacles before the driver came to a stop by hitting yet another car. 

"I'm also not eating spaghetti for the foreseeable future, FYI," he adds.

Maddie wrinkles her nose. "Okay, changing the subject: when do you leave again?"

It wouldn't be an overstatement to say the smile that question invokes explodes over his face. He feels it happen; the spark eats the fuse so quickly there's barely any lead-up and his cheeks burn from the sheer magnitude of the blast. 

"You look deranged," Maddie says, laughing.

"I feel deranged." He's been like this all week and it's starting to scare everyone. Chimney keeps leaving pamphlets for Clozaril in his locker. "Tomorrow morning. We're picking up the bird right after we do a coffee run."

"I wish my boyfriend was whisking me away to the mountains for a romantic getaway." Maddie heaves a theatrical sigh. "My husband says the best he can do is Shake Shack."

The whole thing is absolutely bonkers. He'd been minding his own business, half-watching a documentary about volcanoes with his feet in Tommy's lap, when they showed some insanely beautiful footage of Mount Rainier. And although his mind was focused on completing level 29 of Euclidea, his mouth was busy saying, "I've always wanted to go there." 

Thumb digging into Buck's instep, Tommy had made a thoughtful sound and said, "I'd tapped a buddy of mine to get us into Griffith Observatory after hours, but I like your idea way better. Let's do it."

If someone had told Buck 1.0 that someday a beast of a man would be flying him by helicopter to the Cascades for their two-year anniversary, he would've laughed his way into a pneumothorax. And then he would've tried to fuck his nurse. 

He looks across the living room to where their bags have been sitting, fully packed, since last night, and grins. "Tell Chim he needs to step up his game. You're worth Zankou, at least."

Maddie snorts. "Gee, thanks."

Behind her, there's unexpected movement, and every muscle in his body locks up as his heart stops in a moment of brief, blinding terror. 

It's stupid to feel this way after seven years, but a little part of him is still waiting for Doug to crawl out of the shadows like a wraith to finish what he tried to do. He's spent many a sleepless night spiraling to the soundtrack of Chimney's desperate, Do you know he's dead for sure? Did you see a body?

Buck did see his body, but a little voice sometimes whispers to him from some deep, dark place at two in the morning: it was freezing that day. It could've slowed the bleeding, could've kept him alive long enough to go to a hospital. You don't know what happened after the ambulance left with him. What if he survived? What if he's out there right now, just biding his time?

Which are bad and ridiculous thoughts to have because he knows that monster is dead, and frankly he's got better things to think about than Doug, who's absolutely having his skin torn off in hell right now—especially since his adorable, perfect niece is the one who came into the room. 

"Say hi to your uncle, Jee," Maddie says, smiling. In her hands, a pair of polka dot leggings becomes a polka dot brick with hospital corners. 

Jee-Yun jumps a little like she can't quite see him, and Maddie goes over to the dresser to obligingly tilt the camera down. 

"Hi, Uncle Buck." Jee-Yun waves, then rises an inch or two higher in the frame, and he realizes she's standing on her tiptoes. She cranes her head, moving it a bit from side to side like she's looking for something. After a few seconds, she drops back down, grimacing in disappointment.

He looks over his shoulder, but no one's there. "Sorry, kiddo, it's just me."

"Just you is fine, always," Maddie immediately pipes up, and he ducks his head with a smile. It's always nice to hear her say that. "It's just that… well, she had a question and we weren't sure if you were the one we should be asking."

Buck grins. "Lay it on me, Jee."

It's always a little hilarious to watch how Jee reacts when the spotlight's on her. She bounces and twirls a little, and her whale-spout pigtails move with her. For someone getting ready to enter kindergarten, she's got the stage presence of a Broadway star. "Uncle Buck, how do airplanes fly when they're so big and heavy?"

He opens his mouth to answer her, but there's nothing there, just an empty pocket of air that tastes vaguely like the ham sandwich he had for lunch. He closes his mouth with a click, stymied. He could've sworn he knew this one. Something about lift and drag?

"Jee, I-I'm sorry. I don't know off the top of my head. I could look it up for you?"

A little groan escapes her, but it turns into a shriek when a tie-dyed sweatshirt comes winging from off-camera and lands on her head. Jee wrestles the shirt away, static making her hair cling to her face, which she swipes with a whine. 

"That's why I wanted to ask Uncle Tommy!"

Buck has forgotten a lot about the tsunami. Time has softened the memory of how warm the water was, how it shoved its way into his mouth and nostrils like it was trying to find a way inside his veins, and that it was filled with so much debris it scored the insides of his cheeks bloody. But the one thing he never lost was how his feet went out from under him when that first wave hit like a freight train. He hasn't been able to ride a roller coaster since: he doesn't see the need to pay to experience the feeling of free fall again. He remembers every second of it like it just happened. 

He may be sitting on the couch with his feet firmly on the floor, but his stomach is thrilling at the familiar sensation of being completely unmoored. Only instead of being dragged into the dark, he's being pulled up into endless blue. 

Breathless with stratospheric joy, he digs his trembling fingers into his knees like it's going to do anything to keep him grounded, and chokes out, "Who, Jee?"

The look Jee turns on the camera is so confused that Buck isn't sure he was even using real words just then. It could've been a jumble of sounds falling from his mouth like aquarium gravel. 

"Uncle Tommy," Jee says, with the patient air of someone who forgot they were talking to an idiot. "It's okay if you don't know about airplanes, Uncle Buck. You drive fire trucks."

He's pretty sure he was just insulted. Behind Jee, Maddie's wide-eyed and mouthing an ecstatic oh my god! 

"Tell you what. When—" he swallows thickly, overcome "—Uncle Tommy wakes up from his nap, I'll have him call you and he can tell you all about how planes stay up in the air."

She mulls it over, and he can see the outline of her tongue poking the inside of her cheek like she's swishing the offer around in her mouth. Finally, she gives him two decisive nods of her head that has her pigtails bouncing. "Okay. When's that?"

"I-I don't know. Soon." If the lightning had struck a few feet away from him instead of dead-on, he thinks it would've felt like this. Any second now he's going to vibrate out of his skin and scar Jee for life. "Maybe I should go check on him." 

"I think that's a good idea," Maddie says cheerfully, coming into the foreground. Her eyes are glossy and red, and even with two screens and several miles between them it feels like she's about to wrap him up in the warmest hug. "Why don't we let you go for now? Uncle Tommy can give us a buzz later."

"Yeah, t-that sounds like a plan." He knows he's rocking the deranged look again, except it's somehow so much worse. He doesn't care. He hopes his face gets stuck like this. When he rolls into the station two weeks from tomorrow, he's going to take every pamphlet Chimney shoves at him and eat them.

Maddie's grin is threatening to split her face in half. "Give Uncle Tommy a big kiss from us."

He's going to do way more than that. "You bet. Bye, Mads. Bye, Jee!"

The very second the call ends, he's on his feet and practically running down the hall. Tommy had been coming off a rough 24 earlier when he'd sloppily kissed Buck and then staggered into the bedroom. It's been almost three hours and Buck hasn't heard a peep since. 

Buck makes sure to lift the bedroom door when he opens it so the hinges don't creak, and when he sees Tommy—sprawled diagonally across the mattress with his jeans still on and enough drool soaked into the pillowcase to fill a bathtub—his knees decide it's the perfect time to stop working. He clutches the door frame so he doesn't crumble to the floor under the weight of all this euphoria.

Jee thinks of Tommy as family. It's not hard to figure out the logic she must be using to get there: she has an Uncle Buck, who has had a Tommy for as long as she's been making real memories, and therefore… 

He can't help but wonder who else in the world is operating on that same intel. Jee has no doubt told the teachers at her kindergarten about her mom and dad and her amazingly cool Uncle Buck, but maybe she's also told them about her other uncle, who always lets her ride on his shoulders when they go to the park and who talks to her like she's a forty-seven-year old at brunch. Maybe she's told kids at the playground about the uncle who knows why planes stay in the air and who folded himself into a pretzel because she wanted him to sit next to her at the kids' table last Friendsgiving. Maybe she's drawn shitty pictures in crayon of two stick figures holding hands under a smiling sun, and when her classmates ask who they're supposed to be, she tells them, "That's my Uncle Buck and my Uncle Tommy." 

Inhaling shakily, he makes himself move from the doorway to the bed, crawling in as gingerly as he can. It's all for nothing, though, because Tommy cracks an eye open and fixes it on him. Buck scrunches his face up in apology, but Tommy just smiles a little and tugs Buck down, pressing his face into the space between Buck's neck and shoulder and settling with a hum.

Buck slides a hand into his hair and holds him close, breathing in old sweat and a hint of his own shampoo. "I love you, Uncle Tommy."

"If this is a new kink, I'm going to need at least another two hours of sleep before I'm prepared to tackle it," Tommy mumbles. 

Choking on laughter, Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head and wonders if it's possible to die of happiness. "Not quite. Your niece has a question about airplanes and wants you to call her when you wake up."

When there's no immediate answer, Buck is sure Tommy's fallen back to sleep, but then Tommy shifts a little in his arms, presses a kiss to his shoulder, and murmurs warmly, "Will do."

[j4gm]

SPOILERS!!! REFERENCES AND EASTER EGGS IN F&C ep. 2: SIMON PETRIKOV

Let me know if I missed anything!

First of all the title sequence is fucking cool. I don't want to speculate about the various things we see in it, like the apartment getting blown up or the Fern tree growing into its 1000+ version, because I'm sure the show will get round to all that!

The first scene was an awesome reintroduction to the post-apocalypse, showing us the dynamic between Simon and Marcy. The button popping off Marcy's dungarees was a reference to young Marcy's first appearance, Memory of a Memory, when she removed one of the buttons herself to fix Hambo's eye.

Simon was show playing a live set at Dirt Beer Guy's tavern in Obsidian. It seems they've gotten to know each other quite well over the past twelve years. Dirt Beer Guy asks Simon if he's read his new book draft, about a character called Joe Milkshake who was first mentioned in the episode Root Beer Guy.

Despite the fact we saw Jake in the trailers, Finn and T.V. pretty much confirm in this scene that Jake is dead, and has presumably been dead since before Obsidian. I guess Bronwyn wasn't the only Jake descendant who Finn took on as an apprentice, but T.V. doesn't seem all that into it. The Finn and Jake we saw in the trailer are likely from an alternate universe that we have yet to see.

Finn uses his weed whacker to cut through these bushes. A nice way of showing he's fully recovered from his Fern guilt. The focus here is very much on Simon's problems instead of Finn's.

Finn parts with Simon to go and visit Huntress Wizard. The nature of their relationship remains ambiguous and I expect it to stay that way.

Simon has the Island Lady from The Party's Over Isla de Señorita in his phone. I guess they reconnected after he became Simon again. He also has Abracadaniel. I always liked Ice King's friendship with Abracadaniel and the rest of the Order of Giuseppe so I hope they're still friends!

Cute Bubbline scene. Back in the episode Bonnibel Bubblegum, Mr. Creampuff suggested he and PB get matching tattoos. Now she's (trying to) do the same with the girl she's chosen rather than some guy who was chosen for her! Also Marceline is using the same phone she's been seen with in a few previous episodes, including Go With Me and Be Sweet.

I think the flying human city is called Up-Ton.

Choose Goose! He keeps coming back! And he's evil now! People were joking about him being the antagonist of Fionna and Cake after that weird post-credits scene in Wizard City and the fact he was in hell in Together Again. I wasn't expecting that to actually come true. Glob knows why he's hanging out in a cage in Simon's house.

The pattern of GOLB's eyes is reflected in Simon's glasses during the ritual. He is doing the same dance that Betty was doing to summon GOLB in the finale.

Among the objects in Simon's GOLB shrine are the Farmworld Enchiridion, the flying carpet that Simon stole from Ash and was later frequently used by Betty, the crocodile clips that Betty used for her magic rituals, two effigies of GOLB, and what looks to be the shell of the snail who was seen throughout the original series.

In this credits sequence, Fionna and cake are dreaming about the mask being worn by the bear than Finn slew, and a butterfly with a smiley face on it. Perhaps symbolising Finn?

Tune in next week for episodes 3 and 4!

[eeldritchblast]

Ethel's Vicious Mockery Analysis

(Major thanks to Aloija for the Dialog Parser and Roksik for doing the parsing, from the Down by the River Discord Server!)

I love when Ethel uses vicious mockery in the game, because I feel like it gives insight into the character’s insecurities, you know? So let’s further dissect that mockery.

WYLL

“Oh, look! It's daddy's regret.”

“Fraud of the Frontiers!”

“Do you think losing that eye made you a hero?”

Wyll wants to be seen as a hero so badly… and I’m starting to think that has a little something to do with daddy issues. This “daddy’s regret” line from Ethel, matched with one of Wyll’s desires when confronted by the secret laboratory mirror being his father’s forgiveness, certainly says there is something unresolved there…

GALE

“I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin.”

“Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle.”

“Who would be jealous of you, apprentice?”

The first two aren’t anything new—we’re already aware of Gale’s condition after all. But why would Ethel call him an apprentice? Is he lying about how great a wizard he once was? Or maybe it’s just because he’s lost all his powers, and she’s teasing him about that.

SHADOWHEART

“You're so far up Shar's cake you can't see straight.”

“Why would Shar love you when no one else does?”

“You're no complex puzzle. Just a sad little girl.”

These to me, at least, speak of an undiscussed bubbling crisis of faith Shadowheart may be undergoing. And I am very interested in the second line above. Shadowheart is the type of person to keep everyone at arm’s length, and yet at the same time, it seems from this, desperately wants to be loved? That matches up with her “she took me in when no one else would” answer when asked why she became a worshipper of Shar in the first place. So it seems to me, like Shadowheart experiencing compassion from another person, possibly for the first time in her memory, is leading her to question her faith in Shar.

LAE’ZEL

“A toad with a tadpole! How fitting.”

“Your people will never take you back - illithid scum.”

“Do you miss kissing Vlaakith's feet, gith?”

Lae’zel’s biggest desire is to become kith’rak – we know this. But more to that, I think her biggest desire is to be accepted and revered by her people. Ethel saying that she will never achieve this is probably Lae’zel’s greatest fear.

ASTARION

“Is there still rat stuck in your teeth, slave?”

“Deep down, you like being leashed, don't you?”

“You're one thirsty night away from betraying everyone.”

Okay, okay, okay… the first two? Ethel just being a top tier bitch. But the last one… The last one suggests that Astarion actually does have some care for his travelling companions, if he’s concerned about hurting them. I think that brings a lot out of his character, because it confirms he’s not just a one-dimensional jerk. The glimpses of his nice side are just as genuine.

KARLACH

“Let's pull your strings, infernal puppet.”

“Happy to sell everyone's soul but your own, aren't you?”

“When I'm done, even the Hells won't want you.”

We don’t know a lot about Karlach, because she isn’t available as a companion in Early Access. But what little we do know, adds up with what Ethel says here. We know she was caught up in the Blood War as essentially a slave to Zariel. And judging from this mockery, it seems that’s left her with questioning self-worth.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

(astarion / acebard!tav)

Astarion never received any gifts before - and if he did, he forgot - but he would have loved for the first giver to be his lover, although they seemed pretty occupied with Gale and an object that suspiciously looked like a present.

(not native in english. so sorry if the wording is clusmy in some parts, i wan't sure how to write this xD)

A/N: I made a few adjustments, but I think I know what you're getting at. Hopefully it still works. Also, this turned out way more than five sentences because I have no self control.

Astarion x AsexualBard!Tav Masterlist

Word Count: 921

Astarion couldn't remember the last time he received a gift. The idea of being gifted anything was down right laughable. Nobody truly gave anything without expecting something in return. Some way, some how a price would be paid. He didn't need that hanging over his head, along with everything else. So why did seeing you hand Gale a wrapped parcel sting so much?

He watched as the wizard pulled apart the paper, his brows furrowed with curiosity clearing into a bright smile.

"Oh this is perfect!" he exclaimed. "How did you get it?"

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, grinning yourself.

Gale opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself with a guilty look. "Perhaps it's best I say thank you and leave it at that."

"What do you know, intelligent and wise," you teased. "Just make sure to pace yourself. Don't read it all in one night."

"I've made a point never to make promises I can't keep."

You laughed, giving Gale a light squeeze on the arm before turning in Astarion's direction.

He schooled his features into a casual expression, trying and failing to ignore the burning in his chest. Admittedly the fond look in your eyes did quell the fires, at least a little.

"Successful day?" he asked.

"More or less," you said, taking a seat beside him. "We've got a map. No way to read it just yet, but it's a start."

Astarion humphed, nodding in Gale's direction. "And that?"

"Just some petty thief," you explained. "Gale expressed an interest in it last time we were in town. Couldn't for the life of me explain why, but the bookseller refused to sell. Terrible way to run a business if you ask me."

This was normally when he would laugh or at least grant you an approving smile. Truly, he did love your casual relationship thievery, but it only made him more frustrated. He'd almost preferred you'd paid for it. If you had, he could dismiss the whole thing as a simple errand and not something more.

You frowned slightly, clearly taking notice of his mood.

"Alright, what's got you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting," he said, indignantly. "I'm brooding. There's a difference."

"My apologizes," you said, dryly. "What's got you brooding, oh mysterious one?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressing into a hard line.

"I'm just surprised you would go so out of your way for a book. It's not as if you'd be able to understand it anyway."

A flash of hurt struck across your face, but you pushed it down in a way that made him sick to his stomach. What in the hells was wrong with him?

"Well, it's a good thing it wasn't for me then," you said, stiffly. "Now are you done being childish or are you actually going to tell me what's going on?"

Astarion tried to maintain eye contact in some vain attempt to hold onto his pride, but it was no use. He ducked his head down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I...I don't see why you think Gale is worth the effort is all," he admitted. "It's just a stupid book. It's not as if it's useful to the rest of us. So...why bother?"

He chanced a glance in your direction. You just stared at him, your lips slightly parted as you took him in.

"Astarion, are you jealous?" you finally asked.

"No," he said, a little too quickly, even to his ears.

"So what else would you call being upset over the fact I stole something specifically for Gale and not you?"

"I'm not upset," Astarion objected. "I'm just..."

"Brooding?"

He very much wanted to say something devastating in that moment, that would shut you up and let him walk away from this with some kind of dignity; but, he couldn't think of a damned thing.

"Fine, I'm jealous," he spat. "Happy?"

"Not really."

He closed his eyes, letting out a short sigh. He deserved that.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "You're right, it's...petty and I shouldn't have said that to you. Gods know if it were anyone else I would have torn their throat out."

He looked to you then, hoping you would see the honest truth in his words.

"I wish I was better at this. I know you care about me and I don't need you to commit robbery to prove it. Although, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

To his relief, a small crack of a smile turned at the corner of your mouth.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, some of the teasing coming back into your voice.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

"Only if you mean it."

He didn't have an answer for that. At least, not right away.

With deliberate care, he slipped his hand into yours, raising it to his lips.

He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, only to soften as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. His eyes never strayed from yours. He needed you to see him too.

"I mean it," he said.

A true smile came to your lips, as you nodded. "Then you are forgiven."

He returned your smile, feeling a lightness in his chest only you seemed to grant him.

Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. He had been given many gifts since meeting you. You practically showered him with them every single day, and damn him for taking any of them for granted.

[aerynoakenshield]

[Thorin Oakenshield] - Until The End

♫ - Falling - Harry Styles

Middle Earth was a sight. There were so many different landscapes, so much flora and fauna surrounding you each moment. You discovered things in the wild areas that you otherwise may not have known existed if you kept to your own home, or at the very least never seen with your own eyes. The grounds of this world were made for exploration, but admittedly, in small doses. 

It had been a grueling trip to get to Rivendell, and still you had yet to arrive. Long nights paired with exhausting walks meant that tensions had run high in the company. Petty arguments that were over by sundown sprung between members of the party, even those who otherwise had no business being angry with each other. It was simply exhaustion taking over.

On Thorin's recommendation, which was more of an order, you had all stopped for the night in a cave, well out of the sight and smell of any orc packs that may be lurking above ground. Going against Gandalf's better judgement due to Thorin's inability to listen to the wizard, and anyone else for that matter, a fire had been started and food was on its way.

Taking some time away from the bustle of camp being set up, you sat away from everyone else and closed your eyes, entering a small state of meditation in order to try and relax. Despite your love for adventure and being very used to always being on the move, this journey thus far had even started to get to you. 

"You alright there, hey?" A familiar voice broke you out of your rest, and you turned to see Bofur, stood with a bowl of food in his hand. "Here, get this down ya."

"Thanks, Bofur. I'm alright."

Lies. Bofur knew it. You hadn't been fine for some time. When this journey had started, when you had all met at Bilbo's home, you were excited and spry. You couldn't wait for the adventure that lay outside the door. Now, it was different. Now, you were not even sure if you wanted to continue. 

"Aye, you'll excuse me if I don't believe ya, right?"

You chuckled, a look of defeat on your face. You had become close to Bofur on this trip, him and Balin had become almost father figures to you. They were always trying their best to keep your spirits high as you did for everyone else. Much to your dismay, Bofur could now read you like a open book.

"I will," you sighed, shaking your head and beginning to eat as the dwarf joined you with his own food. "Sometimes I fear you know me better than I know myself."

Bofur bumped arms with you and laughed. "Go on, tell me what's wrong."

You thought for a second, pondering whether or not to lie again or just talk to him. Realising that he was actually there to help you, and lying to him seemed futile, you began to talk. 

"Thorin."

Bofur nodded, not wanting to interrupt whatever flow you may get into, but acknowledging what you had said. He knew how tense things were between you and Thorin. 

"I just don't know why he hates me so much, Bofur. I have been nothing but kind to him and I get his temper and anger in return. I cannot help who I am, but I harbour no ill-will to any of you. I do want to see you all finally have a home."

Your voice had cracked at the end, a sign of high emotion from you. Bofur placed a hand on your knee, he had not been blind to Thorin and his attitude towards you.

 It had been like that from the start, and you knew it was because you were an Elf. As a child, you grew up surrounded by those of your own kind, but as you studied and read texts from other kingdoms, adventure had called to you. Gandalf came to you with the opportunity of helping the dwarves reclaim their homeland, and you were all too quick to join him. What you hadn't expected, was for the head of the company to seemingly want you to disappear. 

Nobody else had ill feelings towards you, and you got along with everyone; even Dwalin, who was grumpy most of the time, but after he had saved your life a few days back, it seemed as though his heart had opened up to you more. It was just Thorin.

Balin took you aside two nights back, after he saw you crying as you rode through the forest. That day, Thorin had shouted at you, telling you that 'an Elf does not belong on a trip to reclaim a home that they helped destroy.' For some reason, that stung you deep down. You were not there that day, nor was it your kin on that battlefield either. You were not to blame, and Balin had told you that. He brought you a drink and sat with you, explaining why Thorin acted the way he did and of his past. 

From that night until present moment, you had been kinder to the dwarf than ever before, and it still hadn't been enough. That's what had led to you sitting here with Bofur now, silent contemplation and comforting words filling the air. 

"Listen here," Bofur began, collecting your bowl from you and taking your hands in his own. "You are an asset to this company, believe me. I've never seen someone fight so well with sword and bow. You and Kili work like a charm with those arrows. You've saved our lives multiple times, you keep us cheery when you can. We appreciate ya, we really do. And deep down, I think Thorin does, too."

"He certainly has a funny way of showing it."

"Aye, he does," Bofur agreed. "He certainly does. But, I think you should just talk to him. As I came down, he was on his watch, so if you're lucky maybe you can take him his food and sort this out?"

You shuddered thinking about it. The last thing you needed tonight was to be barked at for merely existing from him. It had been a long day, but as you looked at Bofur before you, you nodded. 

"Alright, I'll do that."

Giving you a hug, Bofur placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Standing, you both made your way back to the party and you met Balin by the fire. 

"Can I take a bowl for Thorin, Balin?" you asked, voice low so only he could hear. The last thing you wanted was for anyone, namely Fili or Kili, to make any jokes or remarks right now. Balin's eyebrows raised, but he smiled kindly, handing you a bowl with the spoon.

"Here you go, thank you for taking it." Balin always had been kind to you. Before you could leave, he leaned in to your ear and whispered.

"And good luck." Balin pulled back with a friendly wink, and you could feel that he was trying to calm your nerves. You shook your head with a smile and left.

You had reached the outskirts of the camp and peered around the trees covering the entrance of the cave your company were in, wondering where the young dwarf was for his watch. Normally, he walked up and down, but this time you found him leaning on a rock, gazing out into the planes before him. 

You took a second to look at him, face aglow in the pale moonlight. He looked like a King. He looked beautiful. This wasn't a new thought for you, you had realised that when he turned up at Bilbo's door. There was something different about him to the others. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, or the way his face was a perfect balanced of harsh and soft. Either way, the view before you was something to behold. 

"I know you're there, you know?" Thorin's deep voice pulled you from your thoughts, and his head turned, bright blue eyes meeting yours as you swiftly pulled your away. You couldn't hold eye contact at the best of times, let alone now. 

"My apologies, Thorin, I did not want to make you jump. I thought you might want some food, you need to eat."

Thorin continued to look at you, and if you were looking back you may have noticed his gaze had softened. Taking some steps aside, he made room for you to lean with him on the rock, inviting you over with a wave of his hand.

"Thank you, if you wish to join me, you can."

You couldn't process that for a second. He wants me to stay?  you thought. 

Taking a seat on the grass, you handed him the food and drew your weapon, resting your bow across the length of his sword. Thorin spoke before he had started to eat, looking at you with care. 

"Have you eaten something?" the dwarf asked, concern hinting in his voice.

"I have, thank you. Bofur brought me something not too long ago. I just wanted to make sure you had eaten, too."

Thorin nodded, and began eating his food. Silence fell around you, but it wasn't uncomfortable for the first time. It was soothing. You were in each others company and not fighting, which was a first. As you both sat, Thorin let his mind wander as his eyes roamed the fields.

In his heart, the dwarf knew he had been unfair to you, that his actions had been irredeemable, and overall he had been less than pleasant with you. Truly, he had no bad feeling toward you. It was quite the contrary. 

When Thorin had entered Bilbo's home, he saw his kin before him, but off to the side something else had caught his eye. The last thing he was expecting was an elf to be present, considering the longstanding history between your races. His eyes met yours, and Thorin couldn't deny the feeling he got. He couldn't deny to himself, he thought you were very pretty. A thought Thorin never assumed he would have towards an elf, having had nothing but disdain for them since the incident with King Thranduil. Still, his heart could not deny no matter how hard his brain may try. 

Through the meeting, his eyes darted to you often, finding himself unable to keep them from you. Somewhere inside, there was a small part of himself angry that he would allow such thoughts, especially because the whole reason they were there was partly down to elvish actions. 

Thorin never wanted to be harsh with you, and he never meant for it to go so far. But, in his mind he was battling those feelings that conflicted each other and it was weighing down upon him. He wanted to feel worthy of his ancestors, and perhaps he thought harboring any form of love or admiration for an elf was the worst thing he could do. 

Bringing himself back to the present, he placed his bowl aside, and took a small glance at you. In the night's low light, your features lit up and you appeared more ethereal than normal. In the day to day, you always had an air of grace about you, and you always seemed to glow with a natural beauty. But the moon enhanced that, and Thorin found it hard to tear his gaze away. 

"Look," the dwarf began, and you hummed but kept yourself still, unmoving. "You know I don't think of you harshly. I know my actions haven't made that clear, but I do mean it."

You sighed. "I don't know what I did to deserve that treatment, Thorin."

Mahal, he loved the way you said his name. Never had it been so soft. But now was not the time for those thoughts, as he replied to you as honest and open as he could.

"You did nothing, I was acting out of grudge. There are elves I have a right to hate, but I know you are not one of them. I let my worst side take charge with you, and I hope you can forgive that. I am sorry for how I have treated. You have shown nothing but kindness, you have saved lives in this company, and I have still treated you horrendously. If you couldn't see past that, I would understand. But, I just wanted to let you know."

Now, your eyes fell upon the dwarf, and he seemed sorrowful. It seemed so genuine, a very rare glimpse into the vulnerable and unguarded side of Thorin Oakenshield. 

"If I could not see past that, I would have been gone long ago."

Thorin's eyes met yours, and you had a kind glint in them. Your smiled, only half way, and glanced at your hands as you fiddled with your knife holster, idly playing with the loose leather pieces. You talked again, low and personal, making sure he knew every word was for him and hoping you could be as transparent as he just was. 

"I want to see you on that throne, you know? I do wish to see you all reclaim your home. I cannot imagine what such a thing must feel like, as I have always had a home. But, you had yours taken away, and I took this task before I had met any of you. I think your company are a wonderful set of people, I have become very fond of all of them."

Thorin smiled too, thinking of his party back in the cave. 

"And," you finished off, slightly hesitantly. "I think they have the best leader they could in you. You are the rightful king under the mountain, and I will not stop at anything until I know you sit where you should."

"You really think that?" Thorin sounded almost unsure. 

"I would not have said it if I meant otherwise."

For a moment, you both sat without talking, simply taking in the ambience around you. For the first time ever, there was no malice in the air when you were in each other's company. As your hands looped and twisted the leather still, a bigger hand took one of yours and rested in your lap. Shocked at the gesture, you looked over to Thorin, whose eyes were firmly ahead. Taking a step of your own, you shuffled into him closer, your legs and bodies touching. You could swear you felt him relax. 

"I must confess something," Thorin's voice broke the air. "I thought you were beautiful when I first saw you."

"Oh?" you replied, seemingly surprised. "Me?"

"Yes, you. I could not take my eyes off you for that entire meeting. You have been in my thoughts ever since we left The Shire. It would seem I cannot get you out of my mind."

Your hand tightened around his, turning to entwine your fingers in with his own. It was then you noticed just how big his hands really were; they were almost twice the size of your own. Your other hand traced the rings he wore, your gentle touch sending a feeling through his whole body that he failed to describe.

"I have thought of you often, too. Even after all the fights, all of the arguments. I have thought about the dwarf that may be hidden under all of that, the kind Thorin that I am convinced is in there."

He let out a hearty chuckle, one that seemed less of humour and more of a tension relief. Finally, he was cleared of this weight on his shoulders. 

"Then perhaps you should find that out for yourself."

Before you had a chance to answer his playful remark, Thorin's hand lifted to hold your face, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. His hand came to rest on your jaw, and as he leaned in he stopped just before your lips, waiting for your permission to carry on. Without hesitation, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips to his. Knowing you were fine with it, Thorin pulled you closer and deepened the kiss, though still remaining soft. 

You both knew your guards being dropped like this was not good, but in the moment, neither of you cared. It was only a minute or so, and the company were safe. Pulling back, Thorin rested his forehead against your own as you regained your breath. Say what you will, he is an excellent kisser. 

"Thorin," you breathed out, not wanting to ruin the tender moment. 

"Are we friends now then?" he asked, a smug tone lacing his words as he smirked at you. 

"I think we are a little more than friends right now."

You had laughed and Thorin followed suit, and as you continued watch with him, his arm came to rest around your shoulders, occasionally playing with a loose strand of your hair. Your head leaned onto his shoulder. 

"What do you think the future holds, Thorin? After you reclaim Erebor, what then?"

You heard him sigh, and his gaze fell upon the sky as he rested his head against the rock. 

"I would think a focus on building back homes, creating a safe place for people to work and live among each other. Once word is sent to the other dwarves, perhaps then we can create the community that once was there. But in truth, I do not know."

Thorin was uncertain, mostly of the future just ahead, never mind the future that far in front. 

"But," he began, now looking down at you as your eyes met. "I do know that I would quite like you by my side through it all."

You said nothing in reply, choosing instead to lean into him and capture his lips in a gentle kiss. Thorin's hand wound itself into your hair as he deepened the kiss. Without thought, you pulled him closer and you both got lost in each other for those few moments. Right here, nothing else mattered, nothing else was real. It was you and him, in each other's embrace and for the first time in so long, at ease. 

You spent the rest of the night with each other on guard, allowing the company some decent rest, and from that day on you had vowed to always be there with Thorin Oakenshield until the very end. 

Thank you for reading! <3

[mysterious-ocarina]

No Control

marauder!Sirius Black x fem!reader

(A/N 1, im american so i’ll prolly get alot of british slang wrong, or just call stuff by what americans say) ( A/N 2, this is kinda an au where Sirius doesn't move in with James and is stuck with the Black family. I had a lot of trouble figuring out what family to put the reader in that would fit my plot and I just ended up putting you in the nott family. I guess if you really wanna think about it (pls don't think too hard about it), your brother is the father of theo nott?) (A/N 3, check this out if anyone wants an explanation of why i've been gone from tumblr for so long)

Warnings: definitely angsty but with some sprinkles of fluff, lots of mentions of abuse (nothing graphic is shown, it's just described to have happened a lot in the past), this is an arranged marriage trope but not enemies to lovers trope, lots of misogyny (lately i've been feeling angry at the world and it's views of women so here is me trying to comfort myself. Sirius black is a woman lover fr). let me know if there is anything else i need to tag cuz this is my most serious fic yet

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(5.6k words)

Sirius Black. A name that's known by the majority of the Hogwarts population. And a face that is known (maybe a little too personally) by many wizards and witches at Hogwarts. But not to you.

You've only ever heard about the notorious Sirius black and the gang of hooligans called the Marauders. You've never got to meet any of them personally. You occasionally would see some of them around, but never Sirius. As a Slytherin, you often ran into his brother, Regulus, but you've never really talked to him either, only ever exchanging pleasantries. 

It was actually kind of surprising that you've never talked to the Blacks before. You both came from pure blood, supremacist families and both you and Sirius were known to be a bit rebellious against your families (or just rebellious in general).

But none of that matters, when your parents force you to come home for the holidays and basically shatter your resolve. 

At Hogwarts, away from the prying eyes of your family, you were most like yourself. Rebellious, outgoing, funny, and even kind. But under the roof of your family's expensive manor, you were nothing more than a quiet, obedient little girl, who's value was determined by whichever man was in charge of her. The perfect, pureblood daughter.

Just as your mother was and is, you are basically a slave to your own blood, specifically your brother and father. And as soon as you're married (arranged to a pure blood. no doubt, without your consent) you'll have to be an obedient little wife for your husband. 

The perfect, doting, obedient, docile, pureblood wife. It was all a load of rubbish, you thought, but you would keep the facade up in order to keep the abuse at bay. You learned pretty early on that speaking up for yourself and speaking out of turn was not going to be tolerated.

You were silently eating dinner with your family. Your father and brother were quietly speaking about matters that even if you and your mother cared, neither of you would be allowed an opinion on.

“Honey, we’ll be having important guests for tomorrow's dinner. So make sure you look your absolute best,” your mother spoke to you. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing the “show” you both would have to put on in front of guests.

“Okay. Am I allowed to know who these guests are?” you swallowed down your food. You were filled with nerves, thinking about what kind of important guests you were going to have.

Your mother bent down closer to your ear, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this-��� she shot a quick look to your father to make sure he wasn’t listening, “but it’s the Black family. I’m not sure why they are coming. All I know is that it’s important business with one of their sons.”

You put your fork down on your plate, placing your hands down on your lap in front of you. You let your thoughts wander and only grew more worried. What kind of important business did one of the Black brothers have with your family? To help a little with your nerves, your mother placed a comforting hand on yours before going back to her meal.

The rest of your night was uneventful after that, until you went to bed. You stayed awake for longer than you should have, your mind way too loud to allow you to sleep. You ran through a list in your mind about the millions of different “important business” that the Black family could have with yours. But none of it made sense why they would eat dinner with us. Usually important business was settled in your father’s study, as it was improper for the ladies to be present.

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and then the next day would start. You woke up late, which was extremely unappreciated by your brother, who was expecting his morning coffee like usual. You were promptly punished, not only by being woken up by him screaming at you, but also with a beating.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find an appropriate outfit for the dinner that would cover the red marks and newly forming bruises on your arms. Your mother lessened the pain of the marks a little during the day but there wasn’t much else that you could do.

Sometimes when you both sat and drank tea, you would often dream together about running away from all of this. The blood supremacy, controlling men, and just downright evil families. But those thoughts and dreams were quickly quelled when the sound of the men's voices could be heard, calling for the maids- I mean women.

Both you and your mom knew, these were only dreams. It was impossible for purebloods to leave the life that they were born into.

You and your mother waited in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Your dress was rubbing against the lashes on your skin, making you scratch your arms in irritation but soon stopped when your mothers hand landed on yours.

“You’ll only make it hurt worse. Plus, you know you can show any discomfort in front of the guests,” she said softly. She was trying her best to sound comforting but it only served to remind you of the show you both are forced to put on and the lives you’re stuck living.

A knock was heard and muscle memory forced wide, fake smiles onto both of your faces. Your mother opened the door and welcomed the Black family, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Black. I hope you had safe travels here.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold, you were in front of them offering to take their coats. They handed them to you as Mrs. Black spoke, “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Nott.”

“My daughter will show you to the dining room while I finish up making dinner,” your mother informed before quickly making her way towards the kitchen.

After you finished hanging up Mr. and Mrs. Black’s coats, you finally had the chance to look at the two Black brothers. Being in his house, you immediately recognized Regulus, who gave you a tight smile. You then looked over to who you assumed was Sirius.

He certainly was as attractive as the girls at Hogwarts always seemed to make him seem. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He was looking toward the ground, still keeping his posture ramrod straight. He had the same look and body language as someone who had just been beaten for disobedience. A look you were familiar with.

Before anyone could get angry with you, you spoke up, respectfully, “If you would follow me, please.”

With your head down, you brought the family to the dining room. Your father and brother both stood up to shake hands with the Blacks. You stood behind your seat, waiting for the men to sit down first. Your father and Mr. Black sat down and engaged in conversation. You watched Regulus take the chair next to his father and looked to see where Sirius was. You were surprised to find him right next to you.

You backed up, unsure why he was standing there. Of course, you would give up your seat if he asked you to. But all he did was pull the chair out and motion for you to sit down. You sat down and thanked him as he pushed the chair in, “Thank you, young master Black.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw your father give a nod at your use of the title. Salazar, you sounded like a damned house elf. But that was the proper way you were to address him.

Sirius scrunched his nose at the title but gave you an understanding smile, “You’re welcome.”

He surprised you once more by taking the seat directly next to yours. You kept your mouth shut, knowing it was best to keep your curious thoughts to yourself, but you did shoot him a kind smile.

Dinner started without a hitch, conversation mostly being between Mr. Black and your father, your mother and Mrs. Black conversing a little bit with each other too. You, your brother, and both Black brothers mostly stayed silent and ate the meal.

Throughout the entire dinner, when nobody was looking, you had been rubbing at your irritated arm in discomfort. You don’t know how long Sirius had noticed but he grabbed your hand under the table just as you were going to bring it back up again. He continued to eat his meal with his other hand, looking like he wasn’t holding your hand under the table at the moment.

At your confused glance, he leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know what you’re doing. It’s just going to make it hurt more, the more you keep messing with it. Just squeeze my hand instead.”

He went back to eating, glancing around to find that no one noticed him whispering to you. You squeezed his hand a bit hard as you went back to eating too. Instead of wincing or doing anything to show discomfort, all he did was rub his thumb soothingly on yours.

The butterflies Sirius stirred up in you was enough to distract you from your irritating arm for the rest of the dinner.

“Now,” your father started, rubbing his napkin on his mouth and setting it down on the table, (the universal sign for “stop eating and listen to me”). “Mr. Black and I have recently come to an agreement.”

Sirius squeezed your hand in comfort as his father spoke up, “Seeing as Ms. Nott is the same age as my Sirius, we have arranged for the two of you to be married. It will be after the both of you graduate from Hogwarts.”

Those words echoed in your head as you looked up to the two fathers in shock. Your silverware clattered as it fell from your hand onto your plate. You must have been breaking the bones in Sirius’ hand, holding it as tight as you were.

Despite the fact that you knew it was a bad idea, your adrenaline forced you to speak up, “You can’t do that, father. You can’t just force me to marry someone that I just met.”

The tears in your eyes didn’t fall, years of “training” keeping them from falling.

Your brother gave you a harsh glare at your disrespect. Suddenly your father stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Staring straight at you, his commanding voice not loud but still thundering all the same, “I can, and I will. Do not forget your place in this family and this world. You will do as I say until you are married. Then you will be your husband’s to command.”

In a haste, you let go of Sirius’ hand, placing your hands on the table to stand up. Sirius, thinking quickly, kept you from getting up by grabbing your legs under the table. That didn’t stop your mouth from speaking harshly, “I am nobody’s to command or control.”

Before you could say anything more, your father reached across the table and slapped you across the face. You held your cheek in shock. He’s hit you before but never in front of guests. The entire table sat in shocked silence.

You looked down at your lap, willing your tears not to fall. You noticed Sirius’ hands clenched in his lap, he looked like he was shaking in anger, but his face had a practiced neutral expression. Regulus’ eyes were wide as he looked at you but had no other reaction at the scene that just transpired. The both of them knew not to speak up.

Your brother had a satisfied smirk on his face. You could just hear the thoughts in his head right now. Thank Salazar, someone put her in her place, his face screamed.

Your father sat down and looked towards Mr. Black, “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I hope you can forgive me for her impudence.”

Mr. Black simply waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s alright. I understand how women are.”

Picking up his whiskey glass, your father sighed, “It’s a shame we can’t put off the marriage to fix her. Maybe your son will be able to crack her.”

Mr. Black took a swig of his whiskey too, “We can only hope. If not, I can think of a curse that surely helped to fix up my Sirius.”

Sirius tensed up next to you. Your father had never used the Cruciatus Curse on you, but it was clear what Mr. Black was referring to and your father seemed to quite enjoy the idea. The two men simply laughed as if that curse wasn’t named an Unforgivable Curse. They laughed, as if your pain was nothing more than entertainment to them.

The dinner went back to normal for the two men and your brother, not noticing the tension felt between the rest of the group. This time, you grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table and rubbed it soothingly. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed your hand.

Losing your appetite, you spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, holding hands with Sirius. Your thoughts ran completely wild. You were going to be married to him, for the rest of your life, and you had only spoken once. You didn’t even speak. He whispered to you and you listened. Thinking more about it, there are worse boys that you could have been forced to marry.

At Hogwarts, Sirius was known for being rebellious and against his family's traits and values. Salazar, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, the opposite of his entire family. But what if that was just in the public eye. You didn’t know anything about Sirius except for what you’ve heard from others. For all you knew, the moment you and he were alone, he would revert back to his family’s pureblood values and abuse you just as most pureblood husbands did to their wives.

No, you quickly thought, stop it. You tried to think about the entire situation with a rational head. Throughout the entire dinner, he did nothing harsh towards you. He offered comfort when your arm was bothering you. He kept you from standing when you argued with your father (who knows how much worse the situation could have escalated if you actually, physically stood up to him). He did his best to offer you comfort without your families knowing it.

He’s not an abuser, you rationalized with yourself. You felt the way he tensed up at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. He would not be like your father or your brother.

After dinner, you were sent straight up to your room. Before you were separated, Sirius softly spoke to you, “Don’t worry, darling.”

His smile reassured you by a fraction, as you got ready for bed. Maybe all of it won’t be so bad.

You didn’t see Sirius, or his family, at all the rest of the holidays. The next time you did see him was on the train back to Hogwarts. You were simply looking for an empty carriage to settle in, when you noticed Sirius coming towards you.

He grabbed your suitcase and brought it to what you presumed was the carriage he was going to be in. You simply followed him, shrinking under the glare that some of his fangirls were throwing your way.

Once the door was shut and you were alone, he finally spoke up, “So, how are you?”

You sat in the seat opposite of him. You were unsure how to proceed, so you took the safe option and responded, “I’m fine, master Black.”

He opened his mouth in shock, before quickly wiping the look from his face, he basically pleaded, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But-” you went to protest, but he cut you off.

“At least, don’t call me that when we aren’t near our families,” he dismissed what you were going to say. All you could do was stare at him. It really did seem he wasn’t like his family.

Growing embarrassed under your stare, he shyly spoke back up, “I hope you know that you can act like you normally do when you’re around me.”

You looked away from him, face flushing, “This is how I normally act.”

He leveled you with a look, “We both know that’s not true. I don’t know you well but I’m sure you have a number of choice words to call me.”

Seeing the amused smirk on his face, your facade broke. You slightly smirked right back at him, “I don’t have any words to call you… Our fathers on the other hand…”

Sirius’ smirk turned into an almost awestruck smile. Before he could say anything back at you, a gaggle of boys had burst into the carriage.

“Pads, you’ll never guess who sent me a letter during break,” James Potter excitedly said. He went to sit across from his friend only to just now notice you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Who’s this?” James asked, sitting next to Sirius and throwing his arm around him.

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin followed James into the carriage, taking their seats. Everyone gave you curious but welcoming looks.

Sirius gave you a look, which you nodded to.

“Put up a silencing charm. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Sirius replied, causing the boys to perk up.

The next hour or so was spent with Sirius explaining your arranged marriage to his group of friends. You were relatively silent, not yet comfortable talking to his friends. He left out the parts where you were abused and berated but didn’t spare the details of his own abuse. It seemed he was comfortable sharing what he goes through to his friends. And evidently you too, since you were there listening too.

This was how you found out that he knew about the betrothal before you did. Apparently, he found out just moments before going to the dinner. He tried to refuse his father (the same way you had, you noticed) and received a beating for his insubordination. That would explain the look he had when you first saw him.

You cringed a little, hearing that he was hit but he gave you a reassuring smile. His friends were also really kind and sympathetic to the entire situation. No wonder he seemed comfortable sharing his familial trauma with them, they were extremely supportive.

“Can they really do that?” James questioned, from next to Sirius.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “Unfortunately, yes. There isn’t anything that we can do to avoid it.”

Remus looked up thoughtfully, “Is it possible for you guys to run away from your families?”

You thought about it, “Hypothetically, we could run away from our families and the blood supremacy world, but it would be extremely difficult.”

Sirius spoke up, “Trust me, I’ve debated it my entire life. If we ran away from our families, no doubt we would be financially cut off from them.”

You added, “Not only would we have to somehow have enough money for a place to live, but we would also need to find a job, to keep the place to live. And trust me, families like ours have a lot of power in the wizard world. One word from them, and no one would want or be able to hire us.”

Peter muttered, “That’s horrible.”

Sirius sighed and slouched in his seat, “You’re telling me.”

“Thinking about it, Sirius, you need to put your womanizing ways away. A married man shouldn’t be parading around with any woman that gives him attention,” you added with a teasing smirk.

“You make me sound like a cheap whore,” Sirius replied with a pout.

“You’re not?” James was quick to rebuttal, causing you to laugh at the offended face Sirius gave the both of you.  It didn’t take long for the entire group of you to dissolve into laughs and giggles.

Sirius smiled at you, teasingly, “Well how about you? I’m sure your long line of lovesick fools will end up sobbing at the news.”

You glared playfully at him, “I don’t know any lovesick fools. I actually swore off dating a long time ago so this doesn’t affect my love life at all.”

Remus looked at you in bewilderment, “Went from swearing off dating straight to marriage.”

“Quite the jump,” you simply offered in reply. “At least I’m stuck with Sirius and not some blood supremacist twat like my brother.”

“That is true,” Remus reasoned. “You could have been forced with someone who actually believes the rubbish their parents feed them.”

You felt comforted by Remus' words, confirming that Sirius wasn’t like both of your families.

The rest of the train ride was spent getting to know each other. It wasn’t hard to become friends with Sirius and his buddies. The longer you spent with them, the more comfortable you became with the idea of becoming Sirius’ wife. Don’t get me wrong. You still didn’t want to be forced to marry someone that you didn’t know or love, but you were comfortable knowing that he felt the exact same way.

Who knows? Maybe you could fall in love with Sirius the same way a plethora of other girls had.

The rest of your seventh year at Hogwarts went alright. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that you and Sirius were to be married but for the most part, the gossip didn’t bother either of you that much. It’s not like the rumors were false, so what was the point in denying anything.

The only downside was the threats that a multitude of Sirius fangirls made in your direction. Nothing too serious has happened to you yet, but you knew soon enough that it would be too much for the wrong girl. Turns out, that time would come soon enough. 

You were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Regulus sitting across from you. Since he was to be your brother-in-law, the both of you became friends. You would also find out that he wasn’t like his parents either. He just wasn’t as outward of this fact as Sirius was. Watching what Sirius has put up with, he knew that he wasn’t brave enough to rebel and deal with the consequences.

Earlier in the week, a parcel came by owl for you. In it was a Black family heirloom, a wedding ring. You were told that you had to wear it from now on, even though you guys were still only engaged and not married. Of course, you didn’t argue, though.

You sat staring at the ring. On one hand, you hate what it symbolized. It was your own sick image of slave shackles that tied you down. On the other hand, “It really is quite pretty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Sirius picked it out just for me.”

Regulus looked up at you as you spoke. He was confused for a moment until he noticed you glancing at the ring on your ring finger. He swallowed his toast and took a sip of his black coffee, “Well… I mean, it is charmed.”

You gave him a confused look, which only made him look back at you even more confused. His eyebrows raised, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” you questioned. You looked at the ring and tried to think of what kind of charm it could have been.

Regulus smirked back at you, “Well, Mrs. Black-” you glared at him, only making him smile harder at you, “-When the ring was first made for our grandmother's grandmother, or some other old bat, it was put under some kind of spell. 

“It was always meant to be an heirloom and it was charmed to always look the way that the husband, the male with Black blood, wanted it to look. Hypothetically, it was supposed to be a symbol of great love because the husband should know what kind of ring their wife would like to wear. But with our family being the kind of family it is, it was mostly only ever worn as a symbol of possession.

“Rarely, did the husbands care enough about their wives to know what kind of ring they would like to wear,” Regulus finished his story. He was giving you an unreadable smile.

You stared back at him, your expression almost as unreadable as his, scoffing at him, “Well most jewelry is going to be pretty.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that look like the perfect ring for you,” he smoothly replied.

You simply ignored him, finishing your breakfast. You did your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest at the thought that Sirius knew what your perfect ring would look like.

The ring on your finger only served as a reminder to all the girls at Hogwarts that you were to be Sirius’ wife, a fact that was not very well received by the female population. Before you had the ring, the most that would be thrown your way was dirty looks and glares, something you could easily handle. But as more and more people noticed the ring on your finger over the next week, the more serious it became.

You started to receive so much hate mail, that you started to only ever open up letters if they had the official Nott or Black seal. Most of the letters only said foul things to you. Not many people were aware of the arranged part of the marriage, mostly only pureblood Slytherins and Black’s friends knew about that, so a lot of the letters consisted of them berating you and wondering how you got the notorious Sirius Black to fall in love with you (A love potion being the most common guess. Because why would the perfect Sirius Black want to be with a nobody girl like you).

People really are dense these days. How could people possibly jump to any sort of conclusions when no one has ever seen you guys kiss… or even hold hands for that matter. The both of you were friends by now, of course. But that’s it. You guys didn’t just magically fall in love now that you are betrothed.

Well… one of you wasn’t in love. Over the course of getting to know Sirius more for the past few months, feelings did start to stir within you. But you always tried to squash them down as soon as you felt them. Which only made you hurt more.

You were going to get married… without your consent… to a guy that you’ve started to truly care for… despite the fact that he could never care for you the same way. It was all kind of sad, when you really thought about it.

You thought about how you were probably, inadvertently, just a symbol of his slavery to his family and their beliefs. Just as he was inadvertently a symbol of your slavery to your family and their beliefs.

But you were able to look past that. So maybe he would be able to look past it too and see the silver-lining to this whole thing.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you muttered a quicked Incendio at the pile of hate mail in front of you, burning it to ash. Slipping your wand back into your robes, you continued to eat your dinner in relative peace.

If only it could’ve stayed in peace. Two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff that you didn’t even recognize, sat down on both of your sides. Your confusion was apparent, only widening the smirk on the two girls' faces.

Understanding what was going on, you rolled your eyes, “Do you guys need something?”

“What’s your secret?” the Ravenclaw girl inquired.

You simply continued to eat your food, unaffected by their intimidation. Dryly, you responded, “Whatever could you mean?”

The girls looked at you in disgust, before the Hufflepuff spoke up, “We want to know how you got someone as amazing as Sirius Black to fall for you. I can’t think of anything good about you.”

With another roll of your eyes (if you had a galleon for everytime you rolled your eyes because of these kinds of girls, you would be rich) you cooly replied, “Have you tried, having a personality? I’ve heard it does wonders in making people like you.”

Both girls huffed at your attitude before standing up. The Ravenclaw haughtily informed you, “You better watch your back, Nott. Wouldn’t want anyone to damage Sirius’ goods.”

Using her wand, the Hufflepuff spilled sticky juice all over you, leaving you floundering in shock. You sat for a second seething in anger, only growing more furious as the gross liquid seeped more into your clothes.

By now, most of the great hall was already watching what had happened but at the glare you threw at everyone, people were quick to go back to minding their business.

You got up quickly, making your way out of the Great Hall. You heard footsteps behind you and someone calling your name but you were too blind with rage to bother turning around to find out what they wanted. You had had enough of the girls in this school looking down at you for something that wasn’t any of their business.

You were almost to the girls washroom, when Sirius grabbed ahold of your arm. You quickly whipped around, seething, “What the hell do you want, Black?”

He faltered, unsure how to handle what was happening, “I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

You glared harshly at him, “Do I look okay to you?”

Gobsmacked, he hesitantly replied, “Well, what can I do?”

“Oh gee, Black,” you spit at him. “Maybe you could fix your fanclub who seems to think that I’m Satan incarnate herself.”

Your anger in the moment kept you from thinking rationally, you mocked, “Oh perfect Sirius Black. He’s so hot and amazing. How could a slag like you end up with a man like him?”

Sirius stood, shocked at your outburst but kept silent and let you continue to tear at him, “I’ve heard it all, Black. Your little group of fangirls are so deep into their delusions that they can’t even see that we aren’t in love. The only thing that they are capable of seeing is that I’ll be your wife, consensual or not.

“Those girls don’t even realize the pain it brings me that I’m forced to do this. Those girls don’t see the pain my family has put me in, time and time again. Those girls don’t see the pain they cause me with their vitriolic jealousy,” You finished your rant off, poking at his chest with each sentence. Breathing deeply after explaining how this all made you feel, you watched as he processed everything you said.

He seemed unsure of how to continue, until anger and what looked like insecurity started to cover his face. He moved your hand away (very lightly, you noticed) and started to step towards you as he raised his voice back at you, “Well what do you expect me to do about literally anything about this situation. I’m sorry that having to marry me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Sirius,” you sighed, regretfully.

But he was quick to continue before you could, “No, you got to tear me out, so now it’s my turn. Trust me, this hurts me too. I know how horrible our families and their rubbish traditions are. You are just as familiar with the abuse as I am, meaning that you know just as well as I do, that there isn’t anything that either of us can do against this.”

He took a step back and a deep, calming breath. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, “I wish there was something, anything, that I could do to help us feel less trapped but there’s nothing to do.”

You took a step closer to him, “Nothing about you, is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Really, if anything, you’re the best thing to happen to me. It’s because of you, that I feel less alone.”

At your admission, Sirius let out a breath of relief, as if you just lifted the world off of his shoulders. Was he really that worried about being a burden to you? You spoke up again, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. None of this is your fault and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you.”

Sirius sighed, muttering the scourgify charm. The sticky juice was instantly cleaned off you and you already felt a little bit better.

Sirius grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his, “It’s alright. I understand what you’re going through. But we can get through this together.”

“You’re right,” you responded with a soft cry. You fell into his chest and softly cried out your frustrations. Sirius stood there, soothing you as best as he could, unwilling to let you out of his embrace.

“How about tonight, you meet me in the astronomy tower? We can do whatever, it doesn’t matter what. We can just hang out and forget about our families for once,” Sirius offered. He still had his arms around you in comfort.

Once your sniffles subsided, you hugged him just a little bit tighter, “That sounds amazing, Sirius.”

(A/N, I was thinking of doing a part 2 if you guys are interested. I was thinking it would be after the marriage but you guys still dance around the feelings you have for eachother. maybe you guys find a way to run away together too. i dont really know, yall let me know what you think)

[wonderingsoftly]

The Wizard's Dungeon

17. dungeon

just wanted to play with some instant wg and a dynamic between close friends...the best friends are the ones who feed you and help you start your new life, after all. :)

---

Casia had been running for what felt like an eternity to her burning lungs and thighs, having abandoned her horse some time before.

The guards would not have given up on their search for her yet. Though the wild trail she had left behind her should have bought her some time.

She was close to her destination anyway. Hopefully this would be the last time she would ever have to run like this in her life.

A grove of twisting trees came into view and Casia smiled in relief. A small entrance–a small opening, really–was visible at the base of the trees. This was her way in.

Casia slowed to a stop, sitting down at the mouth of the opening and stuck her legs in. She pulled her arms in and then sent herself down into the hole.

She slid onto smooth stone for a few seconds before being spit out into a large, wide stone room full of tables, tomes, and flasks full of liquids and floating lights. She looked around, smiling and tossing her brown satchel on the ground next to a table.

“Ah, Casia…” a warm, familiar voice called from another room.

Casia grinned at the dark-skinned man, wearing a dark purple robe and his tightly braided hair pulled into a low ponytail, as he sauntered into the room.

“You certainly know how to give the knights their exercise.”

“That's because what you have to teach me is way too valuable for me to leave you alone, you know?” Casia chuckled, immediately moving to an open tome and skimming the page.

“I don't think it's proper for a princess to be fraternizing so much with the wizard who lives in a dungeon,” he teased, walking over next to her and tapping on an underlined section of text, giving her a knowing look. “Much less asking to be his test subject so often.”

Casia glanced at where the wizard’s finger pointed before turning the page and examining the words and pictures there. “What I’ve experienced here is way more exciting than anything the King and Queen require me to learn.”

“How long do you think you have before they find you today?” His dark eyes moved to an orb sitting on a pedestal nearby.

“An hour or two.”

The wizard let out a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “All that trouble for so little time…”

Casia was unbothered, turning another page. “Better than nothing, Menta.”

“Your optimism is ineffable, you know that?” Menta sighed.

“How kind of you. The Queen calls it 'stubbornness.’” Casia gave him a withering look.

Menta simply hummed in reply, rubbing his whiskered chin. Casia kept reading the tome, engrossed.

“What would you say if I told you I might have a way to keep the knights from taking you back to the castle?”

Casia’s attention immediately snapped up to Menta, but she was taken aback by the hesitation in his eyes. Her heart dropped a bit.

“Does it bother you that I intrude so frequently?”

This shocked Menta out of whatever thoughts he had and he looked at Casia, his eyes apologetic.

“No, not at all, Casia. I actually greatly enjoy your company. You treat me like a friend and not like a…monster. Or a tool to fix problems.”

Casia watched as Menta slowly shut the tome in front of them, tracing his fingers across the cover.

“But I don’t want to steal you from your current life. A life of royalty and splendor…my strange home couldn’t possibly compare.”

“But it could. No,” Casia started, a bit more passionately than she expected. “It does compare. I’ve dreamed of becoming a wizard’s apprentice for as long as I could remember, and then I saw you–a young boy, my age, with so much talent and skill.”

Menta looked away, a small smile on his lips, but he tried to hide his bashfulness.

“You and I are the same age, and…you want to be my apprentice?”

“What else could I ask? Your abilities have no peer in the kingdom!”

Casia grinned wide, pleased that she could flatter Menta. He was so often self-deprecating and too deferential to the knights and the king…but she knew he had a small ember of pride deep within himself.

“Tell me this method you have to keep me from going back to the castle. I don’t plan on returning with the knights today.”

Menta’s eyes widened with excitement before he took a deep breath to stifle himself. He placed a hand on Casia’s shoulder and looked her right in the eyes.

“It’s…a sort of glamour. A way to disguise yourself.”

Casia shook her head. “The knights have ways to dispel glamours. We’ve tried that before.”

Menta kept his eyes locked with Casia’s, the intensity of his stare feeling like it was burning through her head.

“I’ve discovered…a different kind of glamour. One that is still temporary, but very much real–not an illusion.”

She looked at Menta with awe. Leave it to him to uncover something so powerful.

“What is it, then?”

Menta released Casia’s shoulder and stepped back, putting his hand to his mouth. He suddenly looked nervous, hesitant to speak further.

…Embarrassed, even.

“Menta,” Casia urged. Now she really had to know what it was.

“It involves your body…your…weight, more specifically,” he said in a shaky voice. “I…was trying to modify a glamour with a minor transformation spell and I…”

Casia waited for him to finish. His eyes were darting wildly around the room. He then shook his head and started pacing.

She let out an impatent huff as she watched his purple robes flutter behind him.

“Menta!”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at Casia, his expression sheepish. She gestured at him with her hands in exasperation, and he walked close to her again.

“I became so fat I could hardly walk.”

The words echoed strangely in Casia’s head. She hadn’t assumed any expectations of what Menta would say, but this was so surreal it wouldn’t have come close to any she might have had.

“You became so fat…you could hardly walk?” Casia drawled.

“It only lasted a few hours, but it took me what seemed like ages to pick myself up off the floor when I fell…not that I sustained much damage, given my enormous rear at the time,” Menta started to babble.

“What part of that works better than a regular glamour? You were still yourself, weren’t you?” Casia asked, now somewhat skeptical.

Menta shook his head.

“I saw myself in my mirror once I managed to reach my room. I was…unrecognizable to myself. That much weight in such a short amount of time was so shocking to process. My face did not even sit the same on my neck.”

Casia began to ponder the idea. If what Menta said was true, then perhaps this would be her best chance to leave her life as Princess Casia behind, and just become Casia, the Apprentice. She recalled when her mother and father hosted some cousins, one of which had given in to more…leisurely activities, and his weight ballooned since the last time they had seen him.

He had been almost unrecognizable, incessantly munching on treats and pastries at all times of the day. Casia may not have known it was him had her uncle not presented him to them.

And what if she cut her long, black hair? Changed her clothes?

The knights were looking for a lithe, long-haired princess with an angular jaw. Not a heavy, short-haired, soft-faced creature of a woman. She could even be noisily munching on something when the knights arrived–the sound of her eating pushing away their examining stares.

“Have you anything big enough for me to wear?” Casia asked, glancing down at her plainclothes. They certainly did not have enough room to contain a person several times larger than she.

Menta looked at her, bewildered.

“You’re truly considering it?”

“Of course I am, what else have I got to lose anyway?”

“If they discover you, they’ll never let you return,” Menta replied gravely.

Casia rolled her eyes. “They haven’t succeeded at that yet, have they?”

“Casia, I’m serious. If the King and Queen discover that I’ve been using you as a test subject, they may banish me…or worse.”

“You wouldn’t let them, would you?” Casia’s tone was blunt.

Menta looked at her, his eyebrows raised. A smile tugged at his lips.

“...No. I suppose I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Spoken like the powerful wizard you are,” she said with a triumphant nod. “Now, clothes?”

“Well, follow me, then.”

Casia trailed behind Menta as he led her to one of the guest chambers in his dungeon–the one she most commonly used when she had been able to disappear there before.

The color of bedspread she preferred–purple, like his robes–was still on the modest bed, making her smile. Menta was sometimes not particularly forthcoming about his feelings, but his actions always betrayed his thoughts.

She watched him as he opened the closet and pulled out what seemed to resemble a…bedsheet?

It was a lovely, light color, and the closer Menta got, Casia realized it was a dress.

“That thing is enormous,” she said with a disbelieving laugh.

Menta shrugged to try and seem nonchalant, but Casia could see mild embarrassment in his eyes.

“I told you I almost couldn't move when it happened. I was using my best judgment when I had it made, but I suppose I erred on the side of caution and gave it…extra room.”

“Any reason why it's a dress and not a handsome pair of trousers and a shirt?”

Casia was teasing him now, trying to hint at the fact that it was, one–a dress made for her, apparently, and two–stored in what they both considered her room.

“Better mobility, less chance of an accidental tear…” Menta deflected almost-effortlessly.

Casia grinned, going for the killing blow. “And that you made it specifically for me?”

As she expected, Menta’s eyes widened and he looked down in embarrassment.

“You’ve had this in mind for a while, haven't you?” she murmured.

As she spoke, she was immediately touched by the realization of Menta’a foresight. He…wanted her around maybe as much as she wanted to be.

They were friends. Trusted companions.

“I suppose I have,” Menta finally replied. “I’ve been…thinking of ways for you to start the life you want, and somehow this has become the best option.”

Casia smiled, gently touching Menta’s shoulder.

“And I will take it. Gladly.”

Menta looked at her, his dark eyes sparkling with gratitude and excitement.

“Now, where is a blade or something sharp? I think I am in need of a haircut.”

***

The majority of the time Casia had bought to hide from the knights was used by Menta to prepare the “glamour” and Casia giving herself a quick haircut, burning the length of dark hair she was abandoning, and destroying the satchel she arrived with.

She put on the enormous sheet of a dress, the arm holes big enough for maybe three of her own arms at least, saying nothing of the gaping hole for her head. She was a bit taken aback at the size–that Menta was anticipating her getting so large.

Menta drew symbols up and down her arms and legs and one large mark down her face.

He let out a nervous-sounding sigh, stepping back from Casia.

“You might…stand near the bed, Casia,” Menta said with a sheepish grin. “It’s going to be a shocking sensation in more ways than one.”

Casia shrugged and nodded, stepping closer to the bed.

Menta let out a long breath, and stretched his arm out to Casia, his hand open to her. He murmured something Casia couldn’t make out, and then a warm tingling crawled over her body.

She looked at her arms, the sigils melting into away into her skin, then moving her legs to see the same thing happen there. The warmth began spreading into the rest of her body, almost becoming uncomfortable.

They were surprised by a loud banging at the normal door to Menta’s dungeon.

“Damn, they’re already here…” Casia grunted, now bothered by the incessant warmth consuming her body.

Menta’s demeanor became powerfully composed. Casia felt a gasp in her throat at the way his eyes became calculating–evidence of the powerful being he truly was. “Relax. I’ll stall them. The spell is working…just stay in here until you’re needed.”

Casia nodded, sweat now starting to build on her neck from the warmth in her entire body. Menta turned and left the room, gently closing the door behind him.

Her heart started to pound, though she was not sure if it was from the fear of being caught by the knights or if it was a result of the spell.

Then, she felt a strange, swelling sensation within her. It was hardly noticeable until she looked down at herself and saw her stomach now pushing out slightly against the large dress she wore.

She was starting to feel…heavy. She closed her eyes, now feeling like she was floating in water.

Casia thought she felt her skin creaking, and for a moment she was immensely uncomfortable, as if she was squeezed tight into her own body. But that suddenly gave way to a soothing heat flooding her whole being.

Her breathing grew shallow and she looked down at herself.

Her body was nothing like she remembered it now.

Her breasts and stomach had swollen huge, and her hips now brushed against the fabric of the large dress. She pawed at herself, her arms now clumsier and wider than they were only a moment ago. Even as she looked down at herself, she could feel her head being pushed up ever-so-slowly by her fattening neck and face.

She took a step to put herself in front of a mirror, but she immediately found herself off balance. She stumbled a bit, but caught herself before toppling over.

Everything wobbled in a way that was foreign, but undeniably exciting. Casia tried taking a deep breath, but her chest struggled to rise and fall under her new weight.

She carefully shuffled herself forward, belly and thighs jiggling and surprising her. If it felt this different…she wondered how different she must look too.

Casia looked to the mirror on the vanity against the other wall and she waddled herself toward it, her body still growing and bulging out with every passing moment.

She was panting heavily when she finally reached the mirror, and could only stare, dumbfounded.

A round, chubby face, sitting on the roll that had become her neck, stared back at her. She thought she recognized the freshly-cut hair, but the way it sat on and around her fattened face was utterly unfamiliar.

And enchanting.

The rest of her body, ballooned from the thin limbs and frame she woke up in, was massive. Bigger than perhaps any person she had ever seen in the castle.

She filled the dress to near-capacity, her rolls bulging against the seams on the sides. She couldn't see all of her legs in the vanity mirror, but her thighs were enormous, pushing against and away from each other.

Her arms were wide and soft, pockmarked and wobbling as she slowly adjusted herself and smoothed out the dress she wore. She lifted her hands to touch her face, and even her fingers were bigger, wider. She tried making a fist, the accumulated fat actually hindering the joints of her fingers.

Casia looked back to her face, her cheeks now flushing with effort to stand and she found herself panting.

She gently rested her hands on her belly, totally absorbed in her huge, fat body.

Her heart began pounding again, though the sensation was different now. Her body was no longer growing, and Menta was right–the woman in front of her was no longer Princess Casia.

A fluttering sensation rumbled in her stomach and lungs. She began to smile at herself, her round, drooping cheeks pulling out and Casia now felt…enlightened.

There was a knock at the door and Casia turned her head. She noted that even this small movement sent ripples through her body, and she did her best to tamp down the excitement growing in her belly.

With a grunt, she slowly began waddling herself to the door. Every step was a marvelous sensation, and now Casia wished she could just be alone to admire herself.

Another knock, harder and more impatient, came and Casia let out another grunt.

By the time she reached the door, someone on the other side had started to open it. She was closer than she thought she was, not entirely accustomed to just how large she was now, and the door opened rather roughly into her belly.

The sensation was rather sharp, and the force made her wince, but this still sent an excited shiver down her spine.

“Pardon me,” Casia said in a put-on, soft voice. She figured with a body as big and soft as hers, perhaps a gentle voice would match. It was also unlike the sure, sharp voice she usually employed at the castle.

“I told them to wait. Apologies, my apprentice,” Menta’s voice called back.

Casia waddled herself back enough for the door to swing open, and the knights surrounding Menta looked at her in shock.

“Oh, what business do the knights have here? I am sorry I am not more decent,” Casia hummed. The exertion from standing while weighing at least three times she had an hour ago made it easy for her to speak slowly and gently.

Menta glanced at the knights, who were stunned at the sight of the enormous woman in front of them. Casia stifled a laugh, knowing that they were likely expecting to find the thin woman who had escaped the castle this morning.

But as far as Casia was concerned, the princess was long gone.

“I believe…they are looking for the Princess Casia,” Menta slowly explained, realizing the knights would not be immediately roused from their stupor.

“Ah…my master has mentioned she…has a tendency to…wander,” Casia panted now. The effort of standing and holding up such a massive body was starting to overcome her. “I can't say…I relate…”

Casia placed her pudgy hands on her huge belly, giving it a gentle shake.

The feeling was shocking. It was…irresistible.

She caught herself before she got lost in her own euphoria, and glanced behind her at the bed.

“Forgive me, I must…” Casia said, her voice almost whistling as she began waddling herself to the bed. She positioned herself to feel her thick, heavy calves touching the side of the bed and she tried to carefully lower her rear to sit.

She wanted to laugh at how obscene she must have looked, and at how good it all felt.

This detour of her focus caused her to land with a surprising thud onto the bed and made it produce a painful, pleading creak under her weight.

She glanced at Menta, who she could tell, was stifling his own laughter at the sight.

“I…I see we have been mistaken in our pursuit of the princess,” the head knight finally stammered.

“As I told you,” Menta sighed. “My apprentice and I have much work to attend to today. I have not seen the Princess today, but I will alert you if I do.”

“Very well. Men, continue to search the forest,” the head knight barked, turning away from the door.

In a messy clattering, the knights marched out of Menta’s dungeon. Menta and Casia simply watched and exchanged their own glances until it was silent again.

As the door shut with a loud, thudding echo, Casia and Menta smiled wide at each other.

“The Princess is not quite out of the woods yet, you know?” Menta said cautiously.

“I will have…a plan for that, Menta,” Casia panted, leaning back on her fat arms.

Menta gave her an acknowledging nod, walking over to the bed. “I’m impressed you stood as long as you did–even came to the door.”

“This is quite the glamour you discovered.” Casia couldn't help but run her hand over her belly again, the excitement in her core primordial and full.

“Shall I leave you to yourself for now?” Menta asked knowingly, arching an eyebrow.

Casia grinned.

“Am I that easy to read?”

Menta laughed and shook his head. “Only for a powerful wizard who happens to be your closest friend.”

***

It was well past evening when Casia felt herself deflating to her normal size again.

The sensation was ultimately saddening, though she was expecting it.

Being that size…it was unlike anything she had ever experienced. But now, she lay in bed on her back, longing for the heaviness she had quickly grown to love.

On top of this emptiness she wanted to fill, she also needed to figure out how to make the princess disappear.

“Ah, back to normal,” Menta mused, standing in the doorway, holding a tray of food for her.

Casia sat up, the smell of the stew Menta had made tantalizing her stomach.

“Is that for me?”

Menta nodded, bringing it to her and setting it on the bed.

“You’ll need to replenish your energy after that glamour. Then we can talk about your plan to maintain this charade. The knights will surely return, looking for you.”

Casia half ignored Menta, pulling the tray closer and hungrily spooning stew into her mouth. Was it more delicious than usual? Menta’s recipe was always satisfying, but something was different now.

And that was the final piece in the plan she was formulating.

“I want to be as big as that glamour made me,” Casia said nonchalantly, more engrossed in her food.

She heard Menta simply chuckle before he sat down on the bed.

“I would have suggested it if you hadn't,” he mused. Casia looked at him with a playful sneer, her cheeks full of food.

Menta grinned wide. “What? You’re easy for me to read.”

“We’ll have to plan and watch when the knights are close, in order to keep my apprentice in her…preferred appearance,” he said with another chuckle. “That is, until she can achieve the look on her own…”

“More stew would help,” Casia said, mouth now full of bread. Her stomach was full, but she knew she wanted more. Even if it would only simulate a fragment of what she felt earlier.

“Oh dear, what a glutton of an apprentice I’ve discovered.” Menta took the bowl from Casia’s tray with a playfully wicked smile. “I’ll need to keep our larder fully stocked from now on. Though all your extra weight will make you an excellent test subject…”

“Enough chatting, Master,” Casia said mischievously. “We’ve got a plan to enact.”

***

Casia yawned, her growling stomach waking her from sleep. She grunted, rolling to her side, her belly spilling out in front of her on the large bed she was in.

“Must be morning…” she yawned to herself, rubbing a hand on her soft, fat belly.

Years had passed since Casia escaped the castle for the last time, and the Kingdom had given up on finding Casia after her ruined clothes were found covered in blood in the forest surrounding Menta’s dungeon.

It was surprising how big of a funeral had been held for her, and she had been bold enough to attend–fattened by Menta’s glamour.

She wasn't nearly big enough to hide in plain sight in her thin body at the time, but eventually the Kingdom had moved on from the loss of the stubborn princess. And so, it became incredibly easy to constantly gorge herself like she wanted, to reach the enormous, fat body she ached to have so badly.

And as it turned out, sitting, eating, and learning magic suited Casia’s desires far better than anything she felt she had done as a princess.

Now she was Menta’s apprentice, helping him with spells and fattened daily by his cooking. As well as being a powerful wizard, Menta had become a talented chef–Casia’s huge belly and hips evidence of that.

Casia slowly rolled herself out of bed, straining her fat arms to get her momentum rolling.

She was now the size she had become that fateful day–more than three times the scrawny princess she was, and she was happy. Menta made sure to reinforce the seats and her bed for her, and Casia faithfully helped mix potions and study spells. And she was of course, more than happy to be Menta’s test subject, usually getting to lounge and eat while he experimented on her ponderous body with new magic.

Casia waddled herself to the closet and she pulled out a familiar, pale dress, giving it a fond smile. She shimmied it over her head and pulled it over her mountainous breasts and stomach. Her fat arms jiggled as she pushed them through the armholes.

She smoothed the dress down, taking the time to proudly squeeze and wobble her belly.

She hummed curiously as she stood there in the dress.

“Seems this might be getting a little tight soon,” she murmured, noting the way the fabric bunched and squeezed around her. “Menta’s cooking has been quite delicious lately.”

Casia ran her hands up and down her body, slowly traveling over her rolls and ending by giving her hips a squeeze.

“I suppose when Menta brings his big, lovely apprentice to be presented to the Royal Family, we can pick up some new clothing for me,” Casia said with a pleased, devilish grin.

[galedekarios]

I always come to your blog for the devnote deets so I'm curious if you know what causes the ORI_Gale_State_WillingToDie flag to be True or False for Gale? It comes up in so many dialog files but I'm totally unsure how it actually triggers

from what i could gather it depends on which options you pick during gale's last night alive scene / act ii romance scene.

there are several options the player can take that have a flag called 'ORI_Gale_Event_PushTowardsDeath'.

these are all options that encourage to make the ultimate sacrifice on mystra's instructions / don't actively discourage him:

Player: You're right. At least this way, you might take the Absolute down with you. [Gale gets pushed one step towards death] Gale: I can only hope that there are few innocents within the Absolute's reach, when the time comes... and that you will seek safety, far away from me. Gale: Stay with me a while, will you? Day will come all too soon, even in this place. Player: I'm not going anywhere, Gale. I'll be by your side, whatever dawn brings.

Player: You speak as if this affects you alone. How many will die if you unleash what's inside you? [Gale gets pushed one step towards death] Gale: Fewer than if the Absolute goes unchecked. I don't want to kill, and I don't want to die... but inaction will lead to bloodshed all the same.

there's an opposing flag set to this, which is ORI_Gale_Event_PushAwayFromDeath and it's tied to the following option:

Gale: There is no point in running from the inevitable. Better to meet it, on my own terms.devnote Player: Nothing is inevitable. Not when we face it together. You don't have to die. [Gale gets pushed one step away from death]

the flag that gets set here (ORI_Gale_Event_PushTowardsDeath) is what will later trigger the ORI_Gale_State_WillingToDie and ORI_Gale_State_EagerToDie to be set and it's already apparent in the follow-up conversation after the act ii romance scene / last night alive scene:

Gale: I was hoping to speak to you, as a matter of fact. About the night you were kind enough to keep this melancholy wizard company... Player: Go on. Gale: I suppose one might say I'm rather adrift, to be honest. Since our conversation, I'd resigned myself to my fate. Each day bore the possibility of being my last, and I accepted it. Gale: I'm only standing here now because I failed, to put it in rather blunt terms. Mystra is unlikely to let me try again. Yet, even in spite of that - I'm glad to have more time with you. Since you still have me, was there anything else on your mind?

there are quite a few options that reflect that mental state in gale as well. i've added a few here, but there are more:

Gale: The Absolute should be a thing of the past, and I with it...

Gale: I always imagined what it would be like when you finally got to meet her. This wasn't quite what I pictured. Gale: I thought we'd be in Waterdeep. You, curled up before a roaring hearth while I prepared us a ridiculously extravageant meal, served with a batch of my homemade hundur sauce. Gale: I fear mine is a dream for another life. But a fine one nonetheless. Gale: As for this one, I think we've still got a world to save. Unless there's anything else? - Player: It's a date. Gale: I can hardly wait. devnote: Gale still intends to blow himself up. He knows he'll never make the date.

Player: How are you feeling? Gale: Trying not to think about what lies ahead, if I'm being honest. I'd have hoped to spend our final moments together somewhere more romantic, but it seems we won't have much of a say in the matter.

Gale: I regret many things in my life. Choosing to be here, intact and unexploded, is not one of them. Devnote/NoteContext: Trying to convince himself a bit here, he knows he 'should' have killed himself

Gale: When the time comes for the orb to fulfil its purpose, I will think of only one thing: Your face. Nothing else will matter.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi, am binge reading your ideas and theories and… honestly lowkey kinda feel like ya might be JK but ik ur not a trans hating bigot like her.

Anyways, just wondering your thoughts on this: Do you think Albus Dumbledore actually love Harry, or at least cared about him?

Hi, and lol, I am definitely not JKR, pretty sure she'd tell me I'm wrong on quite a few of my interpretations of her canon, but thank you nontheless!

Now, I think Dumbledore's feelings toward Harry are kinda wierd. Like, he convinced himself he does a lot (like keeping Harry in the dark about everything) out of love and care for Harry, and I think he really believes that. The thing is, I don't think he loves Harry or cares for him as much as he tries to convince himself and Harry, or in the way he says he does.

Like, Dumbledore talks a lot about love, compassion, and the power of friendship but when we actually look at his life, he doesn't really have many friends, nor did he ever have many friends.

We see Elphias Doge who calls himself a close friend of Dumbledore, but he doesn't really know him. Doge idolizes Dumbledore the great wizard but he doesn't really know Dumbledore the man. They planned to travel the world together, but they weren't as close as either of them believed, not really.

Alastor Moody is similar, we're told he is an old friend of Dumbledore, and yet Dumbledore doesn't recognize Moody is acting completely different for an entire year, something I noticed without knowing the real Moody all that well.

Aberforth actually knows Dumbledore and the brothers, while they generally care about each other, they aren't really close. Albus looks down on Aberforth and Aberforth is incredibly bitter towards Albus.

Then we have Grindlewald, who I'd argue was the closest a person ever got to Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore actually saw Grindelwald as his equal and legitimately cared about him. So Albus got burned quite badly from the deepest relationship he ever had.

Since then, we see Dumbledore caring in a more abstract, general way. He doesn't see most people as equals to himself, and he is a cold man leading a war, most of the people he interacts with need to respect him as a leader, not as a peer. All of this creates a lot of emotional distance that results in Dumbledore not really having close friends nor does he pursue deep connections. He has allies, and people he is friendly with, but he doesn't have anyone he can confide in.

Snape is the person Dumbledore tells the most too, but Dumbledore is manipulating Snape for his plans most of the time, and is again, Snape's superior. So even Snape, who knows more about Dumbledore and his plans than most, isn't really privy to Dumbledore as himself without his image and responsibilities.

Basically Dumbledore is an incredibly lonely character who preaches love and friendship while not really having any connections like that himself.

Then when it comes to Harry, Dumbledore thinks he knows who Harry is (he doesn't) and Harry has many doubts about Dumbledore. Dumbledore really is trying to care for Harry, he truly believes keeping him in the dark is good for him, so he can have a childhood. But Dumbledore is projecting his own beliefs on Harry, not actually acting out of love for Harry as a person, who he doesn't really seem to know. If he did, he'd know the last thing Harry wants is to be kept in the dark since he never really got to have a childhood anyway.

I think Dumbledore is truly saddened he has to sacrifice Harry to kill Voldemort, and was trying to find a way Harry might survive, it doesn't mean he won't do it though. Harry as the BoyWho-Lived and his purpose as a a martyr in Dumbledore's plans is more important to Dumbledore than Harry the boy.

While Dumbledore does care about Harry in a general sort of way, he cares about who he believes Harry is more than who Harry actually is. When he talks to Harry, it seems he isn't aware of some of Harry's traits (or ignores the evidence of their existence as he has a tendency to project. Albus projects his own view of the world on his mental image of Harry and Voldemort quite heavily), so we again see this wall Dumbledore has between himself and everyone else. A wall Harry realizes was there during book 7 and is constantly thinking about how he never really knew Dumbledore and how much he didn't get the chance to ask him about. The wall is one Dumbledore doesn't climb either which results in him not fully knowing the people around.

So, like, I think he did care for Harry Potter the idea of the boy he had in his head, but the mission and goals he set for himself were more important than that. That, and Dumbledore doesn't seem to actually know Harry.

[lily-alphonse]

for the rare pairs, did you ever get one with marlon and rasmodius? i haven’t been able to stop thinking about them together 👀

Old man yaoi is such a crowd favorite fr lmao

Ok you guys aren't ready for where I'm going to take this (except Human) because I had an idea for vampire!Abigail that involves Marlon and Rasmodius getting together. Cuz you know, like, 2 dads or whatever. (Technically 3 but Pierre? Ugh. He’s wimpy comic relief in this only)

For the purposes of this fic, Abigail is the wizard's daughter and only him and Caroline know.

Anyways I'm trying to do A LOT with this one so maybe I just do bullet points this time to give you the idea

There's no farmer, instead Marlon takes Abbie under his wing as a young adventurer

Rasmodius (because he watches everyone, like a creep) sees this and is like UGH not that THAT GUY, because Marlon is essentially his annoying coworker. Marlon tries to be buddy buddy with him and Ras is not about it. Like bro do your job protecting the valley and shut up pls.

Abbie stumbles on something she shouldn't in the mines, accidentally unleashing an ancient evil vampire and getting bit. It's very important to me that she turns into a bat. It happens automatically when the sun touches her skin, as a defense mechanism. She can survive in the sun as a bat.

So shit hits the fan obviously. Caroline goes to the wizard's tower screaming and freaking out because her daughter is missing and she is certain he has something to do with it (she hadn't known about Marlon) and Rasmodius pieces together it probably has something to do with the ANCIENT EVIL now on the loose. He assures her he is going to take care of it and has no choice but to team up with (ugh) Marlon.

Marlon doesn't know about Abbie. Ras is keeping all his secrets close and being careful about which info he gives to who. They go on an adventure of bonding. Important features of which are homoerotic wound dressing, and Marlon getting serious with Ras about his past and stuff. So he sees another side to him and starts to gain respect for the man.

A lot happens next that I don't have worked out yet sue me its just a concept rn. I have a few different ideas for how Abbie's side of things can go. She could potentially get out of the mines and turn into a bat which leads to her flying to the tower bc who else would believe her? Or she could be trapped in the mines with the original vampire and be like his spawn under his control or something.

Either way, we end up at a moment of truth where Marlon realizes Abbie has turned and feels like they need to kill her or otherwise trap her for eternity or something. And Ras is like tf no Im not condemning my daughter to that and Abbie and Marlon both are just [shocked pikachu face]

BATTLE OF THE DADS. DAD DUEL. FATHER FIGHT where they are physically fighting but also arguing about who knows best for her since the wizard has literally never spoken to her in her life but is also the one trying to save her, while Marlon actually did become a strong father figure for her but wants to kill her (only to end her suffering ofc)

Imagine they are fighting and Abbie just calls over them like "Not really suffering a whole lot, to be honest!" because this is a dark comedy as well as a romance.

Ras wounds Marlon badly enough (owie, it hurt his heart to do though, what is this, FEELINGS?) that he is subdued. Abbie and Ras take on the ancient vampire and nearly DIE but Marlon comes back and saves the DAAAY

He has the opportunity to also kill Abbie and doesn't, he's come around to compromise his morals for the sake of the ones he loves

Potentially even more homoerotic wound dressing and then they KISS with their old scruffy man beards and Abbie pretends to vom

The End

If you want this one to exist be sure to reblog and vote for it in the poll! This would be a hell of a fun one

Send me any Stardew Valley rarepair and I will tell you how I would make them work! (Even non-marriage npcs) If youre lucky you may get a mini fic out of it. Check the list below to see if Ive already answered yours

Rarepair Masterlist

@totallyhumanexe @chikoxiko come get ur old men

[silverpigeon]

request/suggestion?!? maybe something sweet and domestic like mashfinn friends and families reactions to them being engaged?! (sorry i’m a sucker for married life)

(There are two more suggestions in works so I closed the inbox for now, but I will open it after they are done!)

I knew you would come and fuel my Mashfinn soul, thank you for your suggestion and I hope you'll enjoy it!

***

Mash was always blunt and Finn knew that, it was one of his strange charms after all, one that ultimately helped the young wizard realize how much he actually loved Mash. How could he not, after everything that had happened? After all the things Mash has done for him?

It was so nice, to hear those words back one day, and to date Mash, and to experience him like this in their own, intimate moments. To see him blunt again, but…

Maybe he just didn't expect to hear a marriage proposal sound blunt, even though it was so… so like Mash.

“Finn, marry me.”

They were just lying on a couch, entangled in each other as Mash played with Finn’s hair and looked over his shoulder to see a book his boyfriend was reading.

And then he suddenly spills those words, making Finn shut his book in confusion.

“Don't joke around like that…”

Because what else could this even be? It wasn't like they were together for a really long time, or that Finn would even make a good husband.

How was one even supposed to answer that? Wasn't this something Finn should have studied for? To have a reaction ready?

But then again, was there ever a moment in his life with Mash for which he was ready?

“I’m not joking. Oh… you don't want to marry me.”

“D-don’t be stupid, of course I do! It’s just that…that…”

“You do want to marry me.”

There was no reason saying no right now, Finn guessed. Not that he wanted to, there was no way he would ever say no to Mash ever, but his words are caught in his throat and so he nods, cheeks red and his future suddenly including a husband.

So Mash pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds Finn’s hand, slipping it on and also looking quite nervous.

It takes one glance for Finn to realize why.

“...Mash, is that an onion ring?”

“...I’ll get a better one soon, I promise.”

But before Finn could even say that he didn't need to, really, because getting an edible ring from his boyfriend was also really ‘Mash’, the strong wizard carefully put Finn’s whole finger in his mouth, eating the ring and making Finn’s face go from very confused to very red.

And that was Mash too.

***

“You’re engaged?!”

Mash says it so bluntly once again to their whole group of friends, of course after getting permission from Finn, and Lemon grabs the strong boy so hard she would probably tackle him down were he someone else than Mash, obviously.

Lance and Dot keep staring, but then realize it definitely looked impolite and at least the blue-haired wizard puts his palms together to congratulate them.

Dot has a different idea though, and he goes to Finn to do the job his blonde friend couldn't, tackling Ames to the ground with a scream.

“Congrats, dude! You’re going for kids next?”

“Excuse me?!”

It takes a lot of screaming and Lance having to calm everyone down before they can calmly sit down and just talk. The actual marriage part of the engagement is far away and no one wants to mention a date, yet it doesn't really matter for now. What is important to them is the feeling, the fact that they have come to trust each other this much, that they would like their days to continue like this.

And that Finn can call Mash his fiancé, of course, which is something he is planning to abuse very much. He knows his ears go a little red when he calls him that.

Their reactions after that are similar, yet still quite different. Lemon changed her whole ‘Marrying to Mash’ attitude rather quickly after he started to date Finn and now, she was incredibly happy for them. Even though she couldn't do the preparations with Mash, she could still do them for Mash, and that was enough. Lance is the one with the technical questions concerning their life going forward, but he smiles while Dot asks when, and where, and they are both definitely excited.

Just another proof that Mash and Finn couldn't have asked for better friends, really.

***

Regro Burnedead and Rayne Ames are together under the Burnedead’s roof when they and their relatives sit down. Finn doesn't know where to start, how to explain, and even though he knows they are both very supportive of their relationship, it still feels quite embarrassing.

So he stays quiet and lets Mash’s bluntness take over.

“We’re engaged.”

Mash’s father spits out the tea he had in his mouth and even though Rayne looks completely unbothered, inside he could probably scream. He likes seeing his brother happy, really, and he tried to stay happy when he first heard about him getting a boyfriend, but an engagement?

Maybe the only reason why it shocks him so much is the fact Finn was growing too fast, and Rayne spent too much of that time avoiding him.

But Regro is now hugging them both with tears in his eyes and Rayne can sense that Finn is scared of his older brother’s reaction. So of course he gets up and hastily joins them all.

Because him and Finn weren't alone anymore, and their family would only grow from now on.

“Oh Mash, there's so many things we need to do! You need to choose the place, and the cake, and the flowers…”

“It’s fine, Pops. We still have a lot of time.”

They did, now that Innocent Zero sat behind bars and everyone had the chance to feel full of hope once again.

[thebramblewood]

Learning to party spellcaster style (when you're a reclusive and perpetually gloomy vampire), part one.

Previous / Next

Emilia: Morgyn, you came!

Morgyn: I really shouldn't be fraternizing with students.

Grace: You say that every time and yet you keep showing up anyway.

Emilia: Face it. We’re way more fun to hang out with than Sadsack Silversweater and Frigid Faba.

Morgyn: [laughs guiltily] God, that’s terrible. I hope you don't call them that to their faces. They’re really not so bad.

Emilia: Oh, please. We’re here for your classes, not the tedious snoozefests those dusty old bags call lectures.

Grace: Oh, you brought a date! How charming!

Morgyn: This is Caleb. Promise you’ll go easy on him. I’m afraid he doesn't get out much.

Tomax: [sniffs suspiciously] You really invited a vampire on campus, Ember?

Morgyn: Don't worry. You wouldn’t hurt a fly, would you, darling?

Caleb: Fangs off, I promise.

Emilia: Not even a little nibble? How disappointing. I’ve always wondered what that felt like.

Grace: Emilia! You’re engaged!

Emilia: Yeah, and?

Tomax: [narrows eyes] I can’t say I’ve ever met a vampire who doesn’t bite.

Emilia: Get real, Tomax! You’ve never met a vampire, period.

Grace: Don't mind them. I’m Grace, and we're happy to have you. The more the merrier!

-

Emilia: Caleb, you must try Grace’s spiked potion. It’ll make you float, I swear!

Tomax: If you want to hang with us, bloodsucker, you'd better be ready to party.

Caleb: Is this stuff even vampire-safe?

Morgyn: I… don’t actually know.

Caleb: [mock gasps] The Sage of Untamed Magic doesn’t have an answer?

Morgyn: I’m sure it won’t kill you. Well, pretty sure.

Caleb: Bottoms up, I guess.

Tomax: You’re a real fucking wizard, Grace. This was your best batch yet.

Emilia: [giggles] I’m on cloud nine!

Grace: Am I the only one feeling claustrophobic in here?

Tomax: No, we need fresh air.

Emilia: I know! Let’s fly to the Gardens!

[transzojja]

ok i've finished janthir wilds part 1 here are my thinky thoughts

i've only had waiting sorrow for ten chapters of janthir wilds but if isgarren does anything to her i'm killing everyone in the wizards tower and then myself.

the lore is interesting, especially about how bloodstone captures the souls of those sacrificed/killed on it. Really gives another meaning to my reaper wielding bloodstone weapons (now if only they weren't just skins and actually functioned like bloodstone... infinitely stronger power reaper...). I like how we're getting some answers on mursatt and the white mantle without it detracting from the lowland kodan. I also like how the lowland kodan's culture is very rich, and they give you the time to slowly go through it and digest it. And this is just the lore presented obviously in the story, there's journals EVERYWHERE with more!

The titans are also interesting. It seems like they can be revived countless times, and yet they still go out of their way not to die. Why is that? What happens when one dies, gets sent back, and then revived? WHO is doing the reviving? Do they have a neck I can snap to prevent them from every reviving another titan? Why are they also called godspawn? Does this have anything to do with Abbadon?

I'm not fond of how they're slanting the Commander to be largely on the side of the Astral Ward. Don't get me wrong they're a really interesting organization and the lore is probably crazy, but I dont like how the Commander was written to be like 'okay i'm just gonna trust isgarren that this wizard is dangerous' as if isgarren was rational?! The whole POINT of isgarren's character is he's NOT rational! the COMMANDER knows he's not rational! The LORE CONFIRMS he's not rational! I would've been more comfortable if the Commander was more receptive to Waiting Sorrow when she was first revealed.

More on the Commander, I feel like they weren't given enough enforcing power. Decision-making. I'm not talking about player choices and game mechanics, I'm talking about the narrative. They keep answering to everyone's beck and call rather than being the COMMANDER they've proven themselves to be. Like would it be so hard for them to make it so the Commander suggested they keep scouting Janthir rather than the Tyrian Alliance just sending them out? Would it be so hard for the Commander to actually plan attacks? Can't the Commander at least question the motivations of the people just sending them out wily-nily? Especially as I've mentioned with Isgarren, question him! Question his goddamn motivations! LIE TO HIS FACE AGAIN!

TL;DR: What would've made this expac perfect is if the Commander had more agency in the plot and could engage in some fuck-around-and-find-out'ing. The highlight for me was when the Commander lied to Isgarren and told him to do his own dirty work. 8/10.

[tedwardremus]

Perspective

[This is a continuation of A Decent Bloke. I just couldn't stop Lily and James talking about wizarding politics.]

Underneath the grand willow tree on the bank of the lake, the air was thick with the scent of crisp autumn leaves that layered the ground as Lily dropped down unexpectedly next to James Potter, who was engrossed in a Quidditch magazine. Startled by her sudden appearance, James looked up and greeted her with a quizzical, "Alright, Evans?"

Lily cut straight to the point. "What is the Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

James set aside his magazine and raised an eyebrow in surprise as he turned to Lily. "The Sacred Twenty-Eight?"

Lily took a deep breath, she was nervous about asking questions that seemed so obvious to people who grew up in the wizarding world. Severus had always told her it is important to act like you belong, to not show ignorance. "Yes, in the library the other day, you mentioned your family was excluded from all this twenty-eight nonsense and I don't know what that meant. So what is it?"

"It's a load of rubbish," James declared, looking away from Lily and grabbing nearby rocks that he began absentmindedly tossing into the lake. Lily watched the ripples form from the contact with the water expand across the lake into large circles and then fade back into still water, "The Sacred Twenty-Eight, more formally known as the Pure-Blood Directory if you'd like to look it up in the library, was created by an arsehole named Cantankerus Nott at some point in the 1930s. It is a record of which families in the British Wizarding World are considered 'pure-blood'."

"So it's like an official directory? Is it managed by the Ministry?"

"No, it's not official in any government sense. Though some families stupidly consider it an honor to be on the list. It is basically just another way to perpetuate pure-blood supremacy. Some families won't even associate with someone unless they can tie their family back to the list.

"But no family is really pure-blood," James continued, tossing a small rock between his hands before throwing into the dark depths of the lake. "Take Sirius, for example. Anytime a member of his family marries a muggle or muggle-born they are literally blasted off the family tree. They pretend they never existed. But just because you pretend someone doesn't exist doesn't change the actual reality or history of your family. You know Ollivander's in Diagon Alley? His mother was a Muggle-born, yet their family is still on the list too. It's all about power and keeping elite families in line."

"If no family is actually pure-blood then how can the list have any authority? "

James paused in his rock throwing while he looked at Lily, the autumn sun reflecting gold in his hazel eyes. Lily liked noticing the different colors in his eyes. "Ah well, it's all propaganda, isn't it? People like to confirm their already preconceived ideas, especially if it validates their sense of superiority... or fear. The two kind of go hand in hand I guess."

"My dad, he fought in the Second World War, and he never really talked about it. I think it upset him, the things he saw. When I found out about magic I never imagined the same issues that sent my dad to war and left him a bit haunted would exist here. The wizarding world is so small. It seems counterproductive to separate us into this, I guess caste system you could call it. If the goal is to exclude people like me from the magical world how do they expect to create a workforce or support their economy?"

Talking about this kind of stuff to James was different than talking to Severus. Severus always gave short, clipped answers and was quick to change the subject. James was always long-winded and excitable. Severus told her facts. James gave her explanations.

James, Lily had noticed the past couple of weeks, was also different than the James she had rowed with after their OWLs. She couldn't put her finger on it since he was still loud and overly confident but there was something about him that changed over the summer.

Maybe she was the one who changed over the summer.

Maybe they both did.

"Well, only the most extreme pure-blood supremacists seek to purge the world of what they considered 'impure.' However," James explained, picking up tiny rocks once more to toss into the lake, "Most people merely uphold societal norms and unexamined prejudices. Not that those biases are any better mind you."

"But you aren't most people. You don't think wizards are better than Muggles?" Lily questioned.

"No," James asserted. "People can be smart or dumb, decent or nasty, and it has nothing to do with being magical. The problem is that most pure-bloods live totally removed from the Muggle world."

"You think we need to get rid of the Statute of Secrecy?"

"No, well I don't know. I do think our community could benefit from more exposure and relations with the non-magical world. The problem is the supremacists argue the statute should be abolished so they can rule over the muggles." James tossed a rock high in the air before catching it and throwing it into the lake before he continued. "I haven't worked it all out, to be honest. I just know things need to change."

A year ago, watching James toss rocks into the lake while she tried to have a serious conversation would have annoyed her but as she watched him closer she thought perhaps the distraction of doing something with his hands was helping him concentrate, to articulate his thoughts better. "My family lives in a town with Muggles, goes to church with Muggles, we buy produce and eggs from Muggles at the market. My parents even hang out at the local pub with Muggles. They are my neighbors, not my enemies or my subordinates."

Lily realized all of a sudden how close they were sitting. His scent, a mixture of wood polish and sage, filled her senses. Their hands were almost touching, and she pondered whether he could hear the pounding of her heart. Just as she considered reaching out to see if playing quidditch had caused rough callouses on his hands, James moved his hand to throw another rock into the lake.

Lily picked up a rock herself and threw it where James' had landed, the sun reflecting through the ripples. "Do you want to meet in the library again? Maybe you can help me with more NEWT history work."

"I'm not taking NEWT-level history, Evans."

"Yes, but I like hearing your perspective."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, watching the ripples fade across the lake as the water became still once again.

James got up from his place under the tree and turned around to offer a helping hand to Lily. His hands were soft. He smiled at her as she allowed him to help her up, "I like hearing your perspective, too."