#trial of the wizard

[kurokrisps]

Designing the Good Witch of the North better known as "Glinda" as a possible character in my VN - The Trial of The Wizard.

Edit: I made a mistake 😅 her name is apparently Locasta. I really gotta finish the rest of these books.

[knightofthenewrepublic]

When you search for the tag:

[zonezyo]

it’s just that— i fell in love with a war, and nobody told me it ended

[nevertheless-moving]

unable to stop dwelling on the discworld trouser leg of time where, in the penultimate fight scene in Nightwatch, Carcer manages to kill teenage Sam Vimes.

Which means that the future that Duke Vimes came from can no longer exist, which means he can’t go home. Meanwhile you’ve got a bunch of history monks with stored up temporal energy, a prepared space outside of time, and the need to do some desperate damage control before the Auditors get involved. Death shows up, reality is unweaving, Sam is reading Carcer his discworld miranda rights because what else is he supposed to do.

and finally, with little other option, the monks de-age Sam so he fits the time period and send him back out into the fray.

(they didn't call it deageing of course. His memory is hazy, splintered during that terrible in between moment, They....took the time out of him? Sanded away the edges of his self for a terrible, workable fit? It...wasn't a good feeling.)

Just—damn. Sam Vimes having to live his whole crapsack life over again, but this time as his disillusioned-reillusioned, unwillingly-character-developed, noir-epic, Duke of Ankh, Commander Sir Samuel Vimes self. 

Younger (Older? He's never felt so Old, His steps so Childlike, reality twisting in his gut like one of Dibbler's pies) Sam Vimes walking around in a haze after the revolution. Desperate to go home, knowing he can’t. Wanting to drink. Knowing he can’t.

The whole precinct feels pity, he really took Keel’s death hard, hardly speaks except to do his job. Eventually he has to grit his teeth and start being present, because what else is there to do?

Resists the urge to drink until Colon takes the whole watch out to celebrate because -he’s going to be a father!

Come on Sammy, one drink won’t kill you— and after the first drink he’s cracking jokes and after the second hes smiling and after the third hes honestly the life of the party and sometime after that he’s crying about how he was going to be a father and my wife would be ashamed if she saw me drinking like this and— 

Oh shit, Did anyone else know he had a wife?? A PREGNANT wife??? What—aren’t you like 12—no you're 17 now aren't you but when did—

You guys n’ver met ’er—oh gods none if you ev’n know ‘er, is jus’ me...

What—when did you lose—

I lost her the same damn day I los’ ev’rythin else, whadya think...bleeding Carcer...the fuckin revolution...

So! That! Sam only vaguely remembers the night, but rumors travel faster than light on the disc, so by the next day the whole damn city knows about poor Sam brung low by the loss of his poor, tragic, pregnant wife, so young to be a widower, and the Seamstresses nod because they already knew, don’t ask them how, somethings you just have to know in that trade.

And his mother—I don’t know, sue me, I’m a time travel fiend but there’s something deeply intriguing about a man meeting his dead parent, who is somewhat younger than him, and stepping into the old relationship like a badly fitting thing that's supposed to fit well. She would know, right? How would she deal with her son’s impossible grief? Maybe she wouldn’t know—he spent most of the time out of the house, running with different street gangs, maybe he avoids her until she dies and lives with the guilt twice over. God, we don’t even know her name. There’s just so much narrative and emotional potential that I don’t even know where to start.

When he’s on duty, which is most time - it’s agonizing because at first he remembers cases, saves lives that would have been lost. But the more time passes, the hazier his memory because in the original timeline he was becoming an alcoholic. Fuck! A kid dies and he could have saved her if he hadn’t been such a drunk, if he had just remembered where the asshole lived, but it’s all a haze, and he wants to drown out his guilt, but that’s what caused this in the first place.

Good young Sammy, who spends his rare off-time in dusty libraries (and yes, the irony that he’s apparently Carrot now is not lost on him) reading gods-only-know.

It’s not like he can ask the wizards for help, cutthroat and vicious as they are now in the not-so-distant-past.

Good young Sam, who...talks to the Broken Drum’s pet Bouncer like he’s a real person and not a dumb rock? That’s a bit weird, but he’s a bit of a funny guy.

Good old Sam, who believed the testimony of the dwarf who said the humans were trying to rob him and let the dwarf go??

the PROBLEMS this man would cause, good grief. Can you imagine a moderately progressive middle aged man with some degree of begrudging diversity and equity training that he did, for all his sins, pay attention to, suddenly going back to like, 1990, going back just 30 years, and going...oh damn this is kind of fucked up, no man you can’t say that, holy shit.

Except Sam’s lived through even more rapidly shifting social moroes! There’s no seamstress guild, there’s no women allowed inside the university, there’s no black ribboner’s society. People hunted trolls for their teeth! But Sam can’t just unlearn everything, and he can’t shut up, and he has no real luck and anyway he would absolutely get himself (temporarily) fired.

FUCK. Sam has no idea what to do with that. None. Zero clue. Wanders around in a haze until that dwarf he saved from police brutality finds him and insists on repaying the debt. No, he insists, do you have any idea what debt means to a dwarf?

“Sort-of?” he replies hesitantly, and that honest admission of incomplete knowledge shows a hell of a lot more respect and understanding than any self proclaimed dwarf-expert ever did.

Gets a job as a surface man, hauling rocks into the city. It’s backbreaking work, but, in true Discworld fashion, it’s also one hell of a workout (again the irony of being Carrot is not lost him. he freezes for a minute while hauling a rock cart, when he remembers he's technically Lost Nobility too, in a strict sense, but someone curses at him in the street and he's comfortingly grounded)

And here is where this au slides into a SPECTACULAR romantic comedy, BEAR WITH ME. Because in his time on the Watch he’s already done noir, action adventure, war story, detective who dunnit, psychological horror, but guards guards only allowed him to be a romance protagonist in an extremely limited context.

Give me righteous, twenty-something-looking, can’t-say-he-doesn’t-have-style, young Sam Vimes, not an alcoholic,  being fed three square meals a day by his dwarven forced found family, hauling rocks. He is startled to find him bumping his head on a low hanging bar that he doesn’t think used to be there, eventually realizing that he’s an inch or two taller than he remembers. Huh. Guess all that bearhuggers really did stunt his growth.

Still doesn’t get what some of the looks from women he’s getting are about, sure, he’s dirty but so is everyone else. Fine, he took his shirt off, but it’s hot out, there’s far wrinklier than him hauling heavy loads, get a life. 

Happens to glance in the Ankh one day when it’s particularly slow and shiny and is startled to realize that he might be turning heads for a different reason. Oh. Right, not that he was ever a heartbreaker, but he did alright for himself... when he was a younger and his face hadn’t been broken so many times. Which...it isn't now.

Is mildly disturbed by the revelation.

Especially once things blow over at the precinct and what with high mortality rates, he ends up with getting hired again. The boys are delighted to have him back, nevermind that he’s an odd one, noone is ever quite in your corner like Vimsey, absence makes the heart fonder, no one else works that hard, and he’s not even competition for promotion. All around great guy, we should set him up with somebody and just, no.

It just keeps getting worse! He’s literate! He’s a feminist! He believes abuse victims! He’s got a tragic backstory! He’s unreasonably good in a fistfight! He’s kind to animals! Word gets around that there’s a good man on the watch and he’s just waiting for a good woman to come snap him up. The widower excuse doesn’t hold people off completely, and for some it’s its own sort-of appeal. 

Things REALLY become stressful after he rescues that carriage full of noblewoman.

What’s he supposed to do? Let them get robbed? Or worse? Chasing down and beating up 10 goons is as easy as beating up one, when they’re that stupid, getting separated like that, drunk and distracted, and he knows these streets better than anyone, really it’s nothing. And oh lord he’s Modest too.

I mean, they were genuinely greatful, as genuine as people like that are capable of being, the skill having grown rusty. And then there is something...magnetic about the man. An air of command.

So, soon enough you get Lady Marigold of Marigrave calling on Treckle Road for that gallant young officer who rescued them, she really needs to thank him. And Viscountess Elanor Thitzferal specifically requesting that he guard her at her next soiree. And Baroness Julieta van Shoeholten insisting that he come to her home while her husband’s away, for... manly protection.

Aaaah just zero sympathy from the guys. None. 'It’s become a competition, they’re just trying to see who can get me into bed first, it’s like I’m a piece of meat, you can’t send me sir, the Marquess greeted me in a nightee last time you made me go to—' and 'small gods Vimes are you even listening to yourself, shut the hell up'.

Simultaneous to this, (again this is several years into the timeline) swamp dragon accessories come into style. Which means abandoned swamp dragons scrounging on the street. Vimes takes one back to his apartment, blows his paycheck on dragon medicine, and eventually, heart in his chest, brings it to the Ramkin estate. The sunshine orphanage doesn’t even exist yet and he’s just standing outside the gates like an idiot, what is he thinking. Turns around, but her carriage is pulling up and—

well. they meet. it's cute. he's never felt so young. he's never felt so old, too old for her, too poor—

and certainly her thoughts linger too long on the awkward, kindly, handsome young commoner, but is it any wonder she doesn't quite connect it to the stern, dangerous, sexy young guard the ladies seem to be in some quiet, cuthroat competition over?

i have this gorgeous, absurd scene in my head in which Vimes is strong armed into standing guard at some high society soiree and one of the pushiest ladies insists he dance with here, or, if he prefers, if he's not confident about his skills, he can dance with her in-private at her home and he’s like [grinding teeth, looking for a way out, seeinf one] “I would be honored to dance with you.”

Steps right into some ultra-complex dance with multiple partner swaps (she never thought he'd pick this one, devilishly intimidating to one not strictly trained, and you barely spend anytime with your first partner).

But he does alright. Better than alright, for a common man, sometimes misstepping but his hands and feet always end up where they need to be. Raises several eyebrows part way into the song because he's throuwing in some slightly scandalous, no innovative, extra lifts and twirls that wouldn't become fashionable for another decade or two. Who even is that guy? Some out of towner? No, no he's in a guards uniform...how very strange.

Gets to Sybll and she's used to embarrassment during these dances, she tries to get out of them when she can... but can't always. Men awkwardly skipping the lifts, or worse, trying and failing. But him — oh it's him, the one who helped little Erold, and looked at her like—like—well like she was someone beautiful. And he's doing it again, and he's strong and there's a quiet moment where she's in the air, they lock eyes, and the rest of the room melts away.

And then the partners change again, the moment ended.

Just...living throught it all again. To the left, a dance he almost knows the steps to, throwing others off balance with erratic moves , honest mistakes, and delibrate stepping on toes. Improvising. Ruining. Improving. Getting far, far too much attention.

Hes almost excited when the first assassains start coming after him. It's like a hobby.

Everyone tells him he should get a hobby.

Interactions with young vetinari...I don't have the energy to write it all down, the slow circling in on each other, both burning with the need to fix the city, save it, their city.

needless to say he ends up fired again, life under real threat after offending some high lord.

Conveniently enough he has an employment opportunity- bodyguard to fucking Vetinari on his 'grand sneer.' The bastard knows vimes isn't what he seems, though sam is pretty sure that he doesnt know the exacts.

Vetinari hypothesis:(the ghost of keel? Keels son, with some hereditary curse? Or a larger spirit of justice possessing a string of unrelated souls? He knows things he shouldn't- mind reader? Fortune teller? Havelock once arranged for a wizard to bump into him on the street, the magical fool gave an odd double look and then muttered something about destiny looping in on itself giving him a headache. Destiny? Lost noble? And hes far too familiar with sybyl, one of the few bearable noblewomen in this city. And his thoughts on guilds, when havelock can trip him into speaking... Most of all, if hes reading him at all correctly (for all the mystery hes not that hard to read, unless thats a very clever cover) then it seems that behind those dark haunted eyes is Respect. Loyalty. For vetinari. What an interesting man. A puzzling asset. An intriguing threat. )

Did I mention the timeline is changing, healing slowly around the place where it was torn? Healing enough around scars to perhaps get some flexibility back, with some painful stretches and...massaging of said scar tissue?

And hes heading to unresting uberwald, a place where a werewolf pack still hunts humans and, truely unrelated but perhaps equally exhausting, an eldritch spirit of vengeance just might be looking to stretch its legs in a hapless vessel?

Opening drabble Vimes Vetinari Meta (Unwell) Scene from the Uberwald Grand Sneer

[apollothe-wizard]

I drew some of those character headcanon generators

Here were the prompts

[uhhlifeig]

Dumbledore's Office - Nov. 17 - word count: 488 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus Lupin stormed through the corridors of Hogwarts. 

The news of Sirius’s arrest burned in his mind like a fever. 

By the time he reached the gargoyle guarding of Dumbledore’s office, his hands were trembling from fury.

“Let me in. I have urgent business to attend to,” Remus spat at the statue, eyes wild.

The gargoyle sighed. “Not even a ‘hello’ from you, Remus? Well, I suppose I’ll let you in. Consider it a favor from a friend.”

“Thank you.”

He stalked up the stairs towards the large oaken double doors, pushing them open. He stepped inside, eyes blazing as he saw the man he was looking for. 

The man of the hour. Albus FUCKING Dumbledore.

The old man looked up from his desk, his expression unshaken.

“Remus,” Dumbledore said slowly, “I wasn’t expecting-”

“Why?” The werewolf’s voice was raw. “Why did you let them take him?”

Dumbledore’s gaze hardened. “Sirius is guilty of causing the deaths of James and Lily Potter, as well as Peter Pettigrew. The evidence-”

“Is false!” Remus shouted. “Peter was the spy. We also have witness accounts of a rat running away after Sirius was arrested. You fucking scumbag-” he turned around a kicked a table, knocking it over and breaking its contents on the floor. “You knew that they had switched. You knew about Peter’s animagus status. I read the letters, Albus.”

“Enough.” The old man’s voice was sharp as steel. “Sirius Black is guilty in the eyes of the Ministry-”

“To hell with the Ministry!” the dirty blonde’s fists slammed onto the headmaster’s desk. “You are the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Fix it.”

Dumbledore’s face grew dark for a split second before it smoothed back into cool detachment. “Mind your tone, Lupin. This is not as simple as you make it out to be.”

“Simple? Do you think this is simple for me? Watching the man I love, the man I share my life with, condemned without a trial? You think that’s simple?”

Dumbledore’s expression turned stony. “You tread dangerous ground, Remus.”

“And so do you,” Remus spat. “Because if you don’t act, I will. And I’ll start by making sure people learn about your history with Grindelwald. About the choices you made, the loyalties you-”

“Enough,” Dumbledore snapped, his composure cracking. Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. 

Remus was praying to every god he knew of to let the old coot agree with him, until- 

The headmaster leaned back with a sigh. “You leave me no choice.”

“So, you’ll do it?” his voice was barely a whisper now, desperation replacing the rage.

Dumbledore nodded. “I will see to it that Sirius receives a trial.”

The relief that coursed through Remus was overwhelming. He turned towards the door, walking away from the desk.

“Remus,” Dumbledore called softly as he reached the door.

The man paused but did not turn.

“You love him,” the white-haired man stated.

“More than anything.”

[arinsanity]

bitter choco decoration!

based on this song: https://youtu.be/XCyKJD6uQyg?si=2HbfTmH5czNRzwsM

[yourlocalchronicdaydreamer]

“You’re wrong.”

Remus’s eyes bore into him, begging him to agree that there is a chance that all of it - any of it, even - isn’t true.

“You’re wrong,” he repeats, pleading. “You have to be. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t. I know him. There has to be another explanation. There has to be. There has -“

He breaks down, sobbing, and Albus is transported to another time, another place, another boy.

A boy he loved just as much as Remus loves Sirius.

“He would never hurt them,” Remus continues, choking. “They can’t be gone - not James, and Lily, and Peter - he can’t have killed them,” and Albus remembers having this same conversation with Aberforth, all those years ago.

“He would never hurt her,” he had pleaded to his brother. “She can’t be gone - he can’t have killed her.”

But he could have, and he had to, because the only other explanation was that Albus or Aberforth had killed their own baby sister. Aberforth had tried to tell him - had begged and screamed for him to see the truth - but he had refused to until it was far too late.

Far, far too late.

Albus refuses to let Remus make the same mistake that he did with Gellert. Sirius is headed to Azkaban tomorrow, before he can hurt anyone else - before he can hurt Remus anymore.

And Albus hopes with all his heart that Remus will fare far better than he ever did at moving on.

[littleaipom]

drew troll jim based off of this one specific jim screenshot from a post that's lived rent-free in my head for years [X]

I got the whim to lock in and try my best at shading and texturing this, but here are some extra versions too. this was out of my comfort zone artistically, and for the most part im proud of it :D

[logolepsy-babble]

[necroticboop]

THE LAST TRIAL : ↳ Отречение ( легенда Чародея ) / Denial ( Wizard’s Legend )

[thefantasticjourneytoozfan]

Me and @screwnames-ihatenames as our favorite characters

[orchideous-nox]

Fanfic recommendation query: Are you a good person to ask for a Rosekiller recommendation? Under 50k words, and complete? (if the answer is yes, could you tag the recommendation as... rosekiller trial?) I've never read a thing about them, and I'm interested in some good characterisations. I have a good shape of Barty in my head, but...

Absolutely! I have a few I've written myself in my masterlist but I love recommending other people's fics too so here's some that meet your criteria from ao3 (there are many more I could include that are either longer or incomplete so if you ever want more let me know!) I also have no idea if you are a minor...if you are then this is not the blog for you, I'm so sorry. This is 80% smut but the characterisation is still there.

my way or the highway by heartnipnops // nsfw // 6.1k words

While going on a road trip to visit Evan's sister, Evan learns just how much of a menace Barty can be when bored in a car. Luckily Evan spots an exit leading to a gas station with a bathroom not long after, allowing him the opportunity to teach his brat of a boyfriend a lesson.

sharpshooter by heartnipnops // nsfw // 4.7k words

After spending far too long unable to, due to Evan's strict rules during exam season, Barty finally gives Evan a rather sloppy and messy blowjob in the nearest bathroom after Evan's last oral exam. Barty's take on an oral exam turns out to be quite a bit more pleasant than what Evan had to deal with.

Closing Hours by MajorToast // nsfw // 3.8k words

A minimum wage job – one of the supporting pillars of consumer behaviour… and Evan’s personal hell. But – oh well – that’s what you’re getting for chasing the thrill rather than logic, or – in other words – sell crack to children. It’s a last-ditch effort for him to turn his life around, abandon his wicked ways. And it would have worked – hadn’t it been for his utterly stupid (and unfairly handsome) coworker, Bartemius Crouch Jnr.

Game On by MajorToast // nsfw // 4.9k words

To win Evan over, Barty needs to win the 2023 League of Legends Championship. A dare, that not only ends with a lesson learned, but also the fuck of Barty’s life. Two can play that game.

Love You Better by star4daisy // sfw // 11k words

the one where Barty and Evan try to love each other better in entirely different ways

Barty Crouch Jr. and The Terrible Inconvenience of Having a Fit Best Friend by localwolfgoesawooo // nsfw // 8.1k words

Barty is an emotionally repressed, oblivious prat, who thinks his best friend is the most gorgeous person in the world - in a strictly platonic way, of course. When a bloke Barty deems unworthy chats up Evan - makes him laugh - Barty inserts himself into their conversation. You know, since he’s such a good friend.

stoned off you (now i'm stone cold sober) by 214lilacsky // nsfw // 30.5k words

Barty Crouch Jr. is pretty sure he could go his whole life without finding love. Who needs it? He has Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora. He has a steady job, even if it is boring as fuck. He finally has a body he can stand looking at in the mirror.

One thing he absolutely cannot go without is consistent and reliable access to weed.

Enter: Barty's new dealer, Evan Rosier aka Rosie, aka the man who has got Barty down bad.

a double-edged sword by faun_writes_things // nsfw // 6.9k words

a double-edged sword (idiom); a situation with an equally good or bad outcome.

ex; barty hitting on the new next-door neighbor, who may or may not hate his guts.

Under A Spell, You're Hypnotized by spoonstars // nsfw // 3.5k words

Barty really wants to know how a dick piercing feels, so him and Evan brew polyjuice so he can find out.

Ant Pile by sommerregenjuniluft // nsfw // 21.3k words

This is a story about two boys raised by the sun.

Florida heat, being a teenager, best friends and how falling in love works when you've already loved them for as long as you can remember.

[seriousbrat]

How come do you think Snape never informed other order members about the Dark Mark? When Harry brings up to Sirius in GoF that Snape and Karkaroff were showing their arms to each other, Sirius has no idea what it means. Surely once Snape defected he could have made the Order aware that an easy way to spot a Death Eater is to check if they have a big spooky tattoo on their arm? Do you think he was embarrassed? Or he told Dumbledore and Dumbledore chose not to tell the rest? Is this another JKR hole that will leave us doing gymnastics to get around?

I believe it's implied that the Dark Marks basically vanished after Voldemort's downfall in 1981, and only started coming back during GoF, so it wouldn't have been a reliable way of identifying Death Eaters after the war. Snape only switched sides at the very end of the war, and Sirius and the Potters all went into hiding so I just don't think this information would be of use or relevant to them.

The other thing is that they likely didn't need it-- I'm sure the Order was aware of who many of the Death Eaters were, even the ones who escaped Azkaban at the end of the war, without having to check people for tattoos. Sirius lists Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy and Avery who claimed they were under the influence of the imperius curse.

So Snape probably did tell Dumbledore about the Dark Marks, it's just that it wasn't particularly useful information at the time for the rest of the Order and especially not once Voldemort was defeated and the marks disappeared. The Ministry was in utter chaos at the end of the first war too, so even if Dumbledore did provide them with info about the Dark Marks they were already desperately scrambling to catch the Death Eaters they already knew about and I don't think it would have been of much use. That's not even considering that there are probably magical methods to conceal tattoos, since there are certainly muggle methods that are pretty effective. So I don't think it's a plot hole, no.

[octowoman2419]

they’re off to see the wizard!

a drawing of yuka, stomp farmer, tangotronic, and the clappy trio lion as the four main characters from the wizard of oz.

had this idea recently and made me wonder why did no one do this all these years