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coffeestainsandcashmere · 4 years ago

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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Part Five

I hope you enjoy this one! It features a surprise snooty owl (I wonder who could own such a creature???) and some well-meaning concern from a friend. And some banter. And an expensive lunch. Because Theo is extra and can’t help himself. And it’s 4.6k words long...

I also realised that, since I wrote the first chapter basically out of the blue and not really intending for it to blow up into a big multi-part story, I’ve messed up the timeline a little with Harry’s kids, so I’ll have to go back and fix that when it comes to a re-edit before it goes up on AO3, but for now, just handwave it, ok? :)

Finally, many thanks for your lovely owls, anonymous or otherwise, about this story and where it’s going! I was honestly floored by the feedback I’ve got, and thank you to those who’ve reblogged it and helped get it out there for folks to read. I have a very small following since this side-blog is fairly new, so all reblogs are very much appreciated. I did a quick doodle for the cover of the story which you can find here, if you’re interested in how I pictured Draco and Scorpius standing in the steam from the Hogwarts Express from chapter one.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

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Far earlier on Monday morning than she was accustomed to these days, Hermione woke with a start and frowned, confused. Eyes dry and prickly, and hair absolutely everywhere, she sat up and looked around, straining her ears as she blearily tried to work out what had yanked her so unceremoniously from a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Her Muggle alarm clock silently showed 05:54 in harsh red numbers, and nothing had touched the wards or tried to get in, though there was something thrumming against them, like the lingering reverberations of a plucked harp string.

The temporary stillness was shattered when a wild scrabbling of claws and the beating of enormous wings started up against her bedroom window. With a flailing shriek of surprise, she nearly fell out of bed, but after taking a deep breath, she stumbled out from under the covers to wrench the curtains open.

“Bloody owls!” she began, but drew up short when she saw the unfamiliar bird waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass.

There, battering its truly monstrous talons against the glass, was a colossal eagle owl. When it saw her, it stopped its fussing to perch haughtily on the brick windowsill outside and fix her with a fiery red glare. If owls could have raised their eyebrows, she got the impression that this one would have done it at the sight of her.

“Yeah, well, it’s early. What did you expect?” she groused as she slid the window panel to one side and the bird looked around her bedroom with obvious disdain. Imperiously, it stuck out one leg, like a noble expecting a servant to remove a dirty boot, and she saw a rolled-up piece of parchment with a green wax seal and a green ribbon to bind it together.

“Who do you belong to then?” she asked, going automatically to stroke the bird’s flight-ruffled chest plumage. It instantly hissed and nipped at her fingers, and she barely drew them back in time. “Christ! No need for that,” she gasped. She’d never met a postal owl as cantankerous as this one. “I usually give visiting owls a treat, but I don't think I like your manners one bit.”

With the letter in hand, she slid the window closed again, leaving a gap just small enough that the bird wasn’t going to barge its way in. She wondered if it had been instructed to wait for an answer because it began almost immediately clicking its beak against the glass and hooting indignantly.

“Manners makyth bird,” she snapped without looking up, and broke the unfamiliar wax seal on the letter.

It had a cursive ‘M’ within a circle, but was otherwise unadorned. Unfurling it, she glanced at the name on the bottom and her eyebrows rose as her growing suspicions were confirmed. It was signed in a princely English roundhand by none other than Draco Malfoy.

She snorted, glancing back at the bird who was doing its best basilisk impression from the other side of the glass. “Who else would have such a snotty owl?”

It hooted childishly at her again and she laughed.

Dear Hermione,

I must beg of you to forgive the unspeakably rude hour of this correspondence, but I am leaving this morning for France by portkey for a couple of days and I had hoped to get your answer before I left. I should add now before you read any further — although with your kind heart I fear it may be too late already — that Cassiopeia here is not fond of physical affection, but is very partial to owl treats. She can be bribed into doing almost anything for food, but affection is sadly not in her nature, so please be careful with your fingers around her beak. The only reason I was able to get her to fly at all at this time of the day was to bribe her lavishly. She’s terribly spoilt, and for that, I’m sorry too.

Hermione shot another look at the bird, who narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Cassiopeia, eh?” she said and the enormous owl bobbed a few times. “Prideful about your good looks then, are you? You should know how your namesake’s story ended then. But, I suppose you could be forgiven since you are an inordinately pretty bird. You’ll still not get a crumb from me after trying to take my fingers off though. I’ll be having words with Malfoy about that.”

Cassiopeia ruffled her feathers and promptly turned her back on Hermione. The bird didn’t take off, so she returned her attention to the letter.

I spent all weekend thinking about our evening together on Friday, but it will come as little surprise to you to learn that it has taken me all that time to muster up my limited courage to ask you to dinner at your next convenience. Naturally, I left it to the last possible moment to ask you. I have a place in mind in London, but it’s a little more out of the way than the restaurants on Diagon Alley. I have it on authority from the owner that you have never been there, and I would very much like to surprise you, but if you would feel more comfortable knowing in advance, then you can ask Theo while I am out of the country.

Staggered, Hermione stared at the letter and found her vision swimming a little. Blinking, she was shocked to find tears blurring his formal — almost painfully formal — words.

But how long had it been since anyone had actually asked her on a date? ‘Too intimidating’, ‘too boring’, ‘too work-orientated’, ‘too bossy’, ‘too driven’ were all things she’d heard at one point or another, and admittedly many of them from Ron.

Thirty seven wasn’t even old - especially by magical standards - but she didn’t exactly have the same bright-eyed charms as someone like, say, Lavender did anymore. Hard work, and a draining marriage seemed to have sapped much of the youth and vigour from her. And, if she were honest, being replaced by someone supposedly ‘more attractive’ had damaged her more deeply than she cared to admit, even to herself. There were certainly days when she felt like a washed-up, burnt-out, dowdy old matron. She had crashed out of a sparkling career in the Ministry to run a scruffy old second-hand bookshop next to the newly-refurbished Florian Fortescue’s ice cream parlour.

“Why are you even bothering, Malfoy?” she murmured aloud as she stared blankly at the letter in her hands. With looks like his — and a groaning Gringotts’ account if the rumours were to be believed, not that that mattered a jot to Hermione — he could probably have had almost any witch he wanted, his past and reclusive behaviour be damned. And yet he was asking her to dinner after having only met twice since they turned eighteen? Three times, she supposed if she included that brief encounter at the Ministry on the night of the attack.

Perhaps he was lonely just wanted the company. Perhaps she was just… convenient; a chump with a soft spot for outcasts…

Before she let herself go too far down that unsavoury rabbit hole, she forced herself to read on, heart pounding. Outside on the windowsill, the owl had gone very still, watching her with curious, orange eyes.

Please feel free to send Cassiopeia back with your response either way. I hope I have not overstepped or misread how things are between us now, especially given our history, but I find my thoughts returning over and over to our evening, and to that surprise lunch on the 1st of September. I’m not sure what I had expected when you asked me to join you that day, but I certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy myself as much as I did. In the years since I became Scorpius’ sole guardian, I have not sought the company of others, nor have I particularly enjoyed it when it has been inflicted upon me, but those two occasions spent with you have drawn me out of myself. You truly are a remarkable witch, and I’m more moved and honoured than I can express that you have given me even this much of your precious time already.

Before I begin to ramble too freely, I think I must sign off here.

Yours,

D.M.

P.S. Scorpius did write to me in the end. He has a detention already, and Potter’s youngest is also involved somehow… I will get more details from him anon, and no doubt a letter from McGonagall in due course.

For a long time, Hermione stood in her bedroom, with her hair in a wild halo around her head and her scruffy old pyjamas hanging low on her hips, just staring at his signature.

When Draco’s owl began to fidget and fuss again, she sighed and looked up. “Sit tight,” she breathed. “I’m going to get a piece of paper and if you keep quiet, I might bring an owl treat with me when I come back, ok?”

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes and ducked her head suspiciously, but remained put on the windowsill, so she took that as a ‘yes’ and disappeared into her tiny study.

Grabbing a biro from the chipped mug that served as a pen and quill pot, and tearing a sheaf of paper from a muggle notebook, she scrawled a note back to him.

With that done, and before she could talk herself out of what she had just accepted, she returned to his owl with a treat. The bird mobbed her for it instantly, but Hermione scowled at her, snatched her hand back, and barked, “Wait! My goodness, you are spoilt. Let me attach this first, and if I manage it without you drawing blood or otherwise maiming me, not only will it be a flipping miracle, but you’ll get your sodding treat, alright?”

The bird went still with a tiny shuffle of her wings, and stuck out her leg.

“Thank you,” Hermione said tartly.

Cassiopeia took off with her note attached by the same green ribbon and secured with a basic sticking charm. The downdraft from her departure sent bits of accumulated detritus from the window ledge spiralling up into Hermione’s face, but she coughed and blinked, and watched the bird soar way up into the sky. The receding dot of her silhouette banked west, out of sight and in the eventual direction of Wiltshire and Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy Manor.

She’d hardly given the place any thought since that fateful night ten or so years ago when Malfoy had been attacked, a whole wing had been burned to the ground, and Scorpius had nearly been killed. They’d never said in the papers who had done it, and the Auror Office had been distinctly tight-lipped about it. Not that she’d really bothered to find out more, if she were honest. Once Malfoy’s little yowling mandrake had left her office in his father’s arms, she had been almost instantly reabsorbed with her own caseload, and Harry had never mentioned the outcome of the investigation to her. A twinge of gilt shot through her but she pushed it down. It was hardly a topic for dinnertime conversation either, so she doubted she’d find out immediately.

She thought vaguely about clambering back into bed, but since she was up, she headed to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. It had been a while since she’d been up before dawn, and she had some paperwork to do anyway.

Cassiopeia’s appearance was not the only unusual thing to happen to her that day. She had no visitors to the shop at all for the entire morning, but when the brass bell above the door did finally chime, she looked up from the desk at the back of the shop to find Theo striding in.

“Hi, love,” he grinned, stepping deer-like over the stack of recent arrivals beside the counter and stooping to hug her where she sat. “Lunch. You and me. Now.”

“Theo, I have a shop to run,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t just… leave. Besides, I brought sandwiches.”

“I will literally pay you the price of an entire chest of first editions to spend the next few hours in my company if things are that tight. Or I could just… buy you an entire chest of first editions,” he said, adding with his most dangerous puppy-dog eyes, “Seriously, please come to lunch with me?”

She flicked her wrist and the ‘open’ sign hanging in the glass-panelled door flipped over to ‘closed’. “I’m not accepting your money, Theo. What’s the occasion?”

He twitched slightly and then flashed her a grin; a combination that made her instantly wary. “Does a gentleman need ‘an occasion’ to ask a beautiful lady to lunch?” he asked, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Hermione slowly raised one eyebrow. “You’re gay. And happily married. And that’s a terrible line. Try again.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t take my very best friend out,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

Something was definitely up.

“Draco Malfoy is, and always has been, your very best friend in all the world. Try again.”

“You,” he said, actually growling the word this time with comical frustration, “Are one very persistent witch.”

“Mmhmm. How do you think I made it to Minister by twenty-seven, darling,” she grinned, still without getting up from her chair. “Last chance or I turn that sign around and forcibly evict you from my shop.”

Theo whipped his wand out from his inner jacket pocket like he was in a duel, and apparently vanished the offending sign from the door altogether. “There. Your threats are empty. Come to lunch with me.”

“Theodore Nott, you return my sign this instant.”

“Say you’ll come to lunch with me, and the sign goes back up.”

“I will not be threatened in my own shop!” she laughed, arms folding across her chest like a petulant child. “Put it back. Now.”

“Say you’ll come with me,” he said with a wide, playful grin, planting his hands on the counter and leaning his long frame forwards.

She had to bite her lips to stop from giggling. The charming scoundrel knew she’d say yes anyway. “I’ll tell Dan you were bullying me,” she said.

“Tell him; he’ll never believe you. He thinks I’m lovely. Come on, Hermione,” he added, softening from playful to plaintive. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“You and my ‘very best friend in all the world’, that’s what,” he said, and levelled her with a flat stare.

Her stomach dropped and she remembered the letter from that morning. And its contents. ‘…if you would feel more comfortable knowing, then you can ask Theo while I am gone’ Draco had said. He’d spoken with Theo about asking her out. She didn't know whether to be honoured or embarrassed.

Seeing her expression slip, Theo came round the side of the counter to stand beside her and leaned his hips against the wooden desk. “So you like him?”

“I… Why would that be a surprise?”

Theo blinked, and then his gaze flickered down to her left forearm. Everyone knew about the word engraved into her skin with the point of a cursed knife — she’d never tried to conceal it — but not many knew the real truth of just how the slur had come to be carved indelibly into her flesh. Theo was one of the few who did. “You’re really asking me why I’m surprised you like him?” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You, of all people?”

She took a very deep breath, held it, and then sighed. “Let’s go. You’re paying though. And I’m drinking.”

He managed a shy smile, and as they approached the front door of her shop his shimmering illusion around the sign dissolved to reveal it once again.

“Cheeky bugger,” she smirked at him and he waggled his eyebrows disarmingly. An undercurrent of anxiety still lurked beneath his jovial expression though.

A number of new restaurants had opened up in Diagon Alley, but Theo’s and Dan’s favourite was a sleek, modern establishment, quite different from the fusty old decor of the Leaky Cauldron or the other more traditional restaurants in wizarding London. It also sat overlooking the crooked columns of Gringotts, and was eye-wateringly expensive. Naturally, Theo was greeted by name at the door, and the pair were shown without fuss or fanfare to one of the nicest — and most secluded — tables.

With food ordered, and enormous balloon-glasses of wine in front of them, Theo fixed her with a serious look and steered the conversation around to the real reason for his impromptu lunchtime kidnapping. “He finally grew a pair and asked you to dinner then?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “I take it this is… unusual for him?”

Theo tipped his head back and chuckled softly, sounding more tired than amused. “That’s putting it mildly, love. Until Friday, I had the devil’s own job trying to get dear Draco to leave his gloomy little manor house and come to anything. I had to blackmail him into coming to our anniversary, you know?”

Hermione just frowned, not entirely sure if he was being serious or not.

Theo let out a slow breath and stared into his wineglass, idly twirling the stem between long fingers. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said without looking at her, “I’m beyond grateful that he finally seems to be opening up to the idea of… being somewhat… vulnerable again, but…”

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt him,” she said quietly, and Theo bowed his head. “Theo, I’m… You know me. This isn’t just some one night stand with a rich, attractive bloke I met in a bar. I haven’t —” she leaned in close over the table and hissed, “I haven’t even had sex with anyone in years, Theo. Years!” She brushed an errant corkscrew of hair back out of her eyes, embarrassed.

His lips twitched at that, but his eyes remained stormy.

“I’m not going into this lightly. I was honestly as surprised as you are, but I wouldn’t even be considering going on a date with Draco Malfoy if I wasn’t completely convinced that he was no longer the bratty little owl-pellet he was back at Hogwarts.”

At that, Theo barked such a loud laugh that the patrons at the tables nearby turned to look at him like he’d sworn in a church. He covered his mouth with his hand and snickered himself into silent tears for a good thirty seconds before she rolled her eyes and sat back with her glass in her hand, waiting for him to control himself again.

“I’m telling Dan you called him that. And Pansy. They’ll love it.”

“Right,” she said, cheeks suddenly hot. “Well, as much as he might have been an owl pellet, let’s not have it become a ‘thing’, hmm?”

The mirth in his face simmered back down and he looked at her steadily over the rim of his wineglass. “Look, I care about both of you, and I can see this going two ways. One: you realise that the two of you actually have an awful lot in common, he takes you to increasingly fancy places for dates, you have lots of steamy sex, and finally settle down together. Two: the past gets in the way, you both say hurtful stuff you don’t really mean, and you both end up single and twice as miserable as you were before you went for lunch at the Leaky. Don't think I didn’t know about that, either,” he added.

“You’re such a gossip,” she snapped.

“I was being serious, Hermione,” he said, leaning to one side as their food arrived.

She paused until the waiter had left but didn’t make any move to pick up her cutlery. “Are you looking out for him or for me?” she asked.

Theo sighed. “Both of you. But…”

“Mostly Draco, huh?”

“He’s like a brother to me, Hermione. He was there for me when no one else was. You know the things my father did to me as a child, and Draco helped me through all of it. And ‘Cissa too. And I couldn’t believe it when he actually showed up at drinks the other night. Watching him, it… it was like the old Draco had come back to me. The nice ‘old Draco’, I mean.” His eyes glistened and he blinked rapidly, voice cracking as he continued. “After the attack, he shut himself away at the Manor with Scorpius, as if he could keep the whole world out just to keep little Scorp safe. I thought… I thought he’d never leave, Hermione.”

“You never talked about any of this,” she said gently, forcing herself to make a start on her linguine despite the fact that her appetite had vanished almost completely.

Theo shrugged. “I guess… I guess I wanted to give him the privacy he craved, and to be honest, I didn’t think you’d be all that sympathetic to him after your history.”

At that, she scowled, but she could see his point. “Theo, I held his screaming infant in my arms for hours while he was being questioned by the Aurors that night. I saw his face when he came to my office for Scorpius afterwards.” She shook her head. “No one who saw him then could believe he was even a shadow of the person he had been at Hogwarts.”

At her words, Theo had stopped eating, fork held loosely between perpetually-ink-stained fingers even as it rested on his plate. “You did? He never said.”

She tried not to examine that last comment too closely. “Mm. Harry didn't know what else to do with him, so he brought Scorpius to me to see if I could quieten him down. In the end all it took was a handful of my hair and a few poorly-sung folk songs. But you’re missing the point, Theo. You could have trusted me with things that were worrying you. I would have listened to you.”

“I —” he cut off and cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I just… Aside from Dan, I don’t think I love anyone as much as I love him.”

It was Hermione’s turn to choke up a little, but she swallowed and said, “Then I can think of no greater accolade for his character.” She looked up at him and added, “So where’s he taking me then?”

“You said yes?”

“I did. I like him. And not just because he looks like a flipping marble statue brought to life. He’s thoughtful, and he always was extremely intelligent and articulate. I’ve really enjoyed talking with him this time around. I think… I think…” she pursed her lips and took a too-big gulp of wine. Luckily it all went down the right way, and she forged on. “I think… we could work. Or at least… I want to see where it goes, Theo.”

With a slow nod, Theo finally relaxed his shoulders and let out a shaky breath. “He wants to take you to The Foundry.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” she mumbled. It wasn’t one of the ones in Diagon Alley, for sure.

Theo made a side-to-side movement of his head. “I’m not surprised. It’s…”

“Oh God, is it horrifically expensive?” she asked, eyes wide with a sudden abject terror. “Theo, if he’s going to take me somewhere hideously fancy for our first date, I’m going to back out right now…”

The corners of his lips lifted and he shook his head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You have to know the owners to get a table though, and there are no menus. They’ll ask if you have any allergies, but other than that, you eat what they serve you.”

“Holy fuck, Theo…”

“Trust me, you’ll love it. The place used to be a bell foundry in the seventeenth century — hence the name — and it’s this gorgeous brick building with arches and vaults, and cosy little corners,” he added, raising his eyebrows. “You’ll forget where you are and be as comfortable as if you were in your own pokey little Muggle living room. I promise.”

She narrowed her eyes and took another gulp of wine. “I’ll take your word for it, Nott,” she said. “What should I wear?”

Without hesitation, he said, “That burgundy number you haven’t worn since Pansy told you to buy it.”

She blanched at that. “Theo, it’s…”

“Gorgeous? Revealing in all the right ways, yet modest enough to suit you? Dead sexy? Exactly the kind of thing that will make Draco lose his goddamn mind when he sees you in it? The kind of thing that will make him spend all evening simultaneously admiring you in it and mentally tearing it off you —”

“Theo, stop!” she hissed, flushing darker. “For God’s sake shut up!”

He cackled into the remainder of his wine, but refused to give any more sartorial advice.

“Burgundy dress and heels it is, I guess,” she said, and the two of them focused on their food again.

“I hope,” Theo said as they left a very leisurely two hours later, “I hope you don’t think I was too…” he jiggled nervously on the balls of his feet as he held the door open for her, “Overbearing…”

“I mean, you did ambush me, blackmail and threaten me into having lunch with you at the fanciest restaurant in Diagon Alley where I couldn’t reasonably kick up a fuss, and then proceed to tell me all sorts of heartrending stories about Draco and yourself…”

When she saw the wounded look in Theo’s brown eyes, she stopped and turned to face him.

“Theo, no. You’re one of my best friends, and you clearly care about us both. Stop panicking,” she added when she saw the slightly wild light in his eyes. “You didn’t try to tell me what to do or who to see. You’re looking out for your friends, and making sure we’re both… serious about this. And I appreciate that.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and added, “But know that if you keep meddling beyond that, I will hex your bollocks off and make you explain it to Dan.”

“Understood,” he said with a watery smile. “I was worried I’d overstepped.”

“I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“Name it.”

“Did you have the same talk with Draco about breaking my heart?”

His handsome, freckled face split into a blinding white grin. “I did.”

“Forgiven,” she said. “Now, some of us actually have to work for a living.”

“I work!” he squealed. “I work bloody hard up in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, thank you very much!”

“I know you do,” she conceded. “Not that you actually need a job, you filthy rich prick.”

Theo laughed long and loud, scooping her hand up in his and walking arm in arm down the bustling, cobbled street towards her bookshop. “And to think,” he chimed with a sidelong look down at her, “You used to be Minister for Magic with that mouth.”

“I know,” she said. “It nearly got me into trouble on many an occasion.”

Kneazel and Quill’s little sign swung jauntily in the breeze and Theo gave a slight bow from the waist when they stopped at the door. With anyone else, it might have seemed foppish and insincere, but with Theo, she knew he meant it. He was only silly like this with his closest friends.

“Good day, fair maiden of the dusty bookshop,” he said. “And thank you for giving my idiot best friend a chance.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. She stood and soaked up the autumn sunshine for a while as she watched his retreating back, until he eventually disappeared into the Diagon Alley entrance to the Ministry and she slid back into the musty quiet of her little sanctuary.

Chapter Six

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter of friendship! Next time, Hermione and Draco go for that date...!! Things will start to gain momentum too, fear not. It’s not going to be an eternal slow-burn...

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #theodore nott #hermione granger #let no man steal your thyme

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sunlightwoo · 4 years ago

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tag games ✰

here’s just a long post of me continuing on tag games that i’ve been tagged in but haven’t had the time to answer hehe

however if you see this, you’re tagged by me if you haven’t done it already :) and thank you @hyunjaethereal, @timextoxhajima , @sankyeom , @viastro , @bbangsoonie, @wavesmp3 and @shionwrites for tagging me ily guys <3

✰ element writer tag ✍️

what element writer are you?

magma writer

Molten rock that still has to surface. You're the perfect mix of fire and earth, and your story shows it, having the best of both worlds. You're the writer that holds fire on their fingertips and kisses their lovers goodbye in the most painful way. You're able to build long stories that burn on the inside. You break the human soul, touching with infinite grace the right cords. You are an artist of the elaborate pain and heavy angst only a constructed and long story can give. If i could see in your eyes, i would be looking at your soul dancing on an unstable floor, flames all around it, to protect it and to forge it. Your love burns hot and infinite inside of you, and sometimes, when it slips out, you're afraid that it could burn too much. But the right people will know how to love you, and every bright tongue of fire your soul is made of. Your stories are the ones that make the world change.

damn no need to hurt me like that

✰ what is your unorthodox love language?

for this one i took it with my friends and it was sharing foods with your loved ones!!

and this really hit home <//3

✰ playlist tag

rules: we’re snooping on your playlist. put your entire music library on shuffle and list the first ten songs and then choose 10 victims.

flag by tbz

sit down by nct 127

after school by weeekly

come back home by 2ne1

good to me by svt

from by ateez

secret story of the swan by iz*one

she’s in the rain by the rose

shoot by itzy

asap by stayc

✰ writer positivity tag 🪴

rules: bold the things that apply to you

I am a talented writer | I have a way with words | I can plan my stories really well | I can improvise my stories really well | I am great at writing realistic dialogue | I can really paint a picture with my words | My writing is very atmospheric | I am great at descriptions | I am great at action | I am great at touching people with my stories | the backstories of my characters are all diverse and I feel like I truly know them | I am great at making a realistic and complex personalities | I really enjoy the character dynamics and relationships in my wips | my main characters aren't always the same | I am great at coming up with gripping beginnings | I am great at coming up with gripping endings | I am great at coming up with titles | I am in love with my characters and would die for them if they were real | I love how I write animals and mystic creatures | I am great at world-building | I have intriguing and gripping plots | I write amazing character-driven stories | I am great at capturing and keeping the audience's attention | I am persistent even when I want to give up | I'm very organized with my writing notes | I am constantly learning from every story I encounter | I devour books

✰ this or that intimate moments (bold what applys)

love at first sight or slowly growing fond of someone | love letters or mixtapes | hand kisses or kisses on the cheeks | understanding each other without words or finishing each others sentences | gazing into each other’s eyes or looking away blushing | longing to be with someone again or spending every second together | laughing together or crying together | someone run their fingers through your hair or gently playing with your hand | surprise kisses or long tight hugs

✰ aesthetic tag

➼ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 13/20 (had a hunch)

➼ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 7/20

|➼ 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 4/20

➼ 𝟕𝟎’𝐒 5/20

➼ 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 4/20

✰ zodiac this or that (i’ll do my big three)

Pisces sun: Aquamarine or Amethyst. Sea Green or Ocean Blue. Tulips or Carnations. Turmeric or Willow Herb. Surfing or Water Skiing. Ocean or River. Poetry or Painting. Dolphins or Whales. Pineapple or Watermelon. Telekinesis or Reality Warping/Illusion powers. Zinfandel or Spiked punches/lemonades. Starfish or Seashells. Healing Crystals or Dreamcatchers. Psychic powers or Water bending/manipulation. Coneflower or Iris. Lighthouse or Watermill. Baby’s breath or Waterlily. Taurus or Capricorn.

Taurus moon: Green or Pink. Malachite or Emerald. Roses or Violets. Thyme or Brasil. Vanilla or Chocolate. Candles or Bath bombs. Painting or Jewelry making. Seduction powers or Enchanted jewerly, treasure, or gemstones. Foxglove or Larkspur. Chocker or Medallion necklaces. Apples or Grapes. Singing or Humming. Elephants or Turtles. Gardening or Shopping. Having a homebody day or Taking a walk in nature. Pinot Noir or Bourbon. Precognition or Manipulating life force. Violin or Lute. Cancer or Pisces.

Virgo rising: Navy Blue or Olive Green. Peridot or Sardonyx. Peony or Sweet Pea. Hops or Rosemary. Chess or Checkers. Carrot Cake or Fig Bar/Cakes/Cookies. Knitting or Crocheting. Grammar Checking/Quality Assurance or Critiquing a piece of work. Golf or Tennis. Buttercups or Morning Glory. Herbs magic or Earth and plant bending. Mice or Bees. Cabernet Frank or Micro-brews. Enchanted Garden or Magic that can perfect skills. Bunnies or Deer. Cancer or Scorpio.

#tag games

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archiewantsheetmetal · 4 months ago

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all the tags and reblogs added to this post + this post itself have made me cry just a little.

im fairly new to the fandom compared to the rest of you. I played my first Layton game back in august on my friend's phone in the middle of class. I saw the first cutscene and fell in love

But you've all been so kind and funny and genuinely some of the most friendly people I've come across in any fandom. And it feels like a friend group. And I truly think that that's what it is. And I think I got accepted pretty fast. Hopefully. I hope I am. I think I am

This fandom has kept my love for PL alive and I love seeing all the analyses and the fanart and the fanfiction with little to no toxicity at all.

I've opened up on tumblr because of PL. I've met new people that I love to talk to and mess around with.

There's a sense of security that comes with being on tumblr in the Layton fandom because of how close-knit everyone is, as another reblog said before me. It's such a joy to be here.

I'm glad you've all been so friendly towards me and each other. I don't ever see other tumblr users in a fandom frequently calling each other by a nickname or a piece of their username. That's something you do with friends. I've only seen it in the Layton fandom.

I don't know where I'm going with this. Nothing I'm saying here is getting my thoughts out.

I've gotten used to all of you and I hope you'll all allow me to call you my friends. In the short months I've been here, it feels so welcoming and friendly and there's always been someone telling me they like my stuff. Always been someone telling me how it's made them laugh or cry or think. Thyme IIRC the day you told me you wanted to write a fanfiction based on a simple doodle I drew, I got so happy I cried. That is what this fandom is to me. Thank you all so much. I really, really mean it.

The PL fandom has so many good fucking writers and artists. How amazing is it that we’re all gathered here over a man who’s built like a graham cracker?

#this blog used to just be my junkyard until PL #i know you were just sillyposting for the most part #but genuinely whenever i think about all the friends ive made on here because of professor layton #i like. start to tear up #how lucky i am ouugh #i love all of you /p #thank you.#archies favs #sorry . For the sap

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spacegoathours · 2 years ago

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doodle request; thyme and gir meeting eachother, being friends? :) Sir unit buddies

thank you i love this ;n;b

GIR shared his piggy! how nice of him!

#asks #sir unit oc #gir #mina arts

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icarusatmidnight · 6 years ago

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Novel Prep Tag!

I was tagged by @indecentpause to do this, so thank you! I get a bit distracted yesterday watching a certain music video and looking for pictures, hence why it’s a little late~ :D

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

Three twentysomething year old insomniacs attend an informal late night support group to deal with their magical trauma, or maybe become gods? The wording is pretty unclear.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

I'm still not honestly sure. When I think about it, I always personally break it into Act 1, Act 2, Act 3 but I'm still not sure if those will be just acts with a single book or something more. o:

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Modern magic, mundane magic, runes and signals littered as graffiti in subways, redcap blood drives on the weekend in the park, friendships are rad, failure as a positive, that good old city night life, curling up in diner booths at 3am because why the heck not, found families and getting better

4. What other stories inspire your novel?

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater, definitely! I had this hazy vibe and the character for Icarus before reading those books but seeing how ...matter of fact and mundane magic was described in the books just clicked something in my head. I ended up tossing out the old half-plot it had, and by the end of month, I had this new one and much much happier with it. :D

Also, the Serenity Rose comic book series. I have a thing for near-god characters that still have really relatable issues and just want to live their mundane life. It's one of favorite ...tropes, I guess, and that series does it great. It also deals with growing past your trauma (working through your negativity, so to speak~) so, yeah! It's free online too and I'd highly recommend it. Fair warning though, second book is a fair bit bloody at times.

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

I will always love this gif and the whole scene in MIKA’s Make You Happy video (the whole video really) but the playful vibes of dipshit friends is like, Icarus’s core to me. ( ´͈ ◡ `͈ )

Also, just... a lot of Hydrae’s art especially her old Teen Wolf fanart (like the bottom left picture). Fun fact! I first created the concepts of Oleander and Daed when I was watching the first season of Teen Wolf, so seems pretty fitting I still draw inspiration from one of my favorite artists from that time. Her DnD art is amazing too! :D

MAIN CHARACTER

6. Who is your protagonist?

Oleander Thistle is the main-main protagonist~.

7. Who is their closest ally?

While he dearly loves Kingcup and Thyme, his closest ally is Daed and he will always be. They're known each other the longest at this point and Daed does have Oleander's best interest at heart and can look out for him without overstepping his boundaries either.

8. Who is their enemy?

I want to say Lund because it's Lund. But he doesn't really feature in the story outside of mentions and flashbacks, so it's probably easiest to say shitty societal stigmas and shitty coping mechanisms on a whole??

9. What do they want more than anything?

Oleander ...wants to know more about himself and his past especially how he survived losing his heart back when he was like six. He has some theories that make sense, but he's lacking some good hard facts about that. Not knowing actually causes him a fair amount of internal conflict that he can’t seem to rationalize away like he can with most other things.

10. Why can’t they have it?

The easiest to swallow answer is he simply lacks any way of knowing or finding out. Both of his parents are gone and Lund wouldn't know so unless someone has a time machine, his hands are pretty much tied.

The harder one is that Oleander is honestly terrified of finding out that he's not who or even what he thinks he is, so he doesn't try and lets his fears fester inside of him. Like, what even is he? Who can honestly survive having their heart ripped out of their chest still beating and live on without it being much of an issue? It's fucking weird. One of the ideas that refuses to leave him alone is that he's nothing more than a confused spirit possessing the corpse of a dead six year old, and what if that's true? He spent years trying to get his life back. What was all that for if he's even not himself?

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

That he's not him, but that's less wrongly believed and more his worst fear, you know?? Wrongly believed is honestly more Kingcup and Thyme's areas, and that's part of why they like Oleander. The kid is pretty matter of fact and reasonable with his opinions especially about himself (or so it seems on the outside, and even then it’s the what ifs that drag him down). He's like their unflappable little rock! :D

Until, of course, he isn't. :’D

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

I really love doodling Olly so thank you. ^o^! Fun fact, his natural hair is like a dark auburn brown. His original plan was to screw around with his hair for funsies for a bit while he was traveling with Daed, only for someone to tell him blonde was a really bad look for him one day in a grocery store. He’s spitefully kept it blonde ever since because fuck you too, lady.

PLOT POINTS

13. What is the internal conflict?

Outside of his ‘what am I’ conundrum which is his main internal conflict, he’s also figuring out how to better navigate the bitter raging sea of anger inside of him. He may want to know more about himself, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely a-okay with the years he spent under Lund’s control. The trauma is still real.

14. What is the external conflict?

They've all been burned and traumatized by magic, and instead of doing the more rational approach to healing like talk to a therapist, they ...do other things that are less helpful. There's also a massive social stigma to having been burned by magic so it's not like they actually have a lot of options at hand. :/ Starting Icarus is actually helpful in that regard because at the minimum, it builds a nice little support system.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Oleander is screaming the worst already happened, what could be worse than his past?! But off the top of my head, losing his heart again would been such a devastation to him. Or, just giving up completely.

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

That's a good question. o:

17. Do you know how it ends?

There's plenty of bits and pieces that I know happen, but it's not absolute yet.

BITS AND BOBS

18. What is the theme?

Mistakes don’t have to define you. Recovery isn't a straight line, but it's possible. Found families are neat.

19. What is a reoccurring symbol?

We will see. I’m sure they’ll pop up at times. xD

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description)

Most of the story takes places in a small port city named Dead Leaves. Less of it takes place in the Inbetween and The Romneya Backwoods too, but Dead Leaves is the main spot. Like I said, it's smaller city but still thriving and lively. The Icarus verse has a slight solarpunky vibe to it so despite the name, it's very green with lots of parks and trees and plants. It's common to see ivy climbing up old buildings and rooftops to have their own little gardens. There's plenty to do with an ton of shops and venues and museums and old historical spots too. Its home to the ever famous Clove Archives that's a massive tourist spot for all to visit, and because of that, there's a few universities and colleges within the city too.

I definitely write it with Boston in mind too, so yes~ c:

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

I'm a super visual person so, oh god yes! Do I ever! So many scenes! One of my favorites involves Kingcup punching a wall and Oleander throwing up a wall. :D

22. What excited you about this story?

I just really like these characters, this concepts and the story I have so far. It honestly feels me with joy when I doodle and write about them and it's one of the first stories I've worked on that doesn’t really ever frustrate me either. I also just want to write a story about queer kids finding friendships, falling in love, dealing with the shit and learning from the lesser mistakes you make in your youth. Failure isn’t a death sentence, you know?

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!

I beat my ADHD down every so often and just write write write until it regains its strength? o: I’m gonna look into seeing a specialist this year to learn a better way because it doesn’t work well enough anymore. :l

Tagging: Mhmm. It said lots of people so @elliot-orion @loopyhoopydrabbles @mirror-of-too-many-books If y’all don’t want too, that’s totally cool too! :D And anyone else who would like to do it, please do it! I loved to see it! <3

#long post #dear god it's long #but this was fun!#thanks indecentpause~ :D #icarus at midnight

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