#you have no idea how much i had to resist writing 'you're a wizard' right there

[vera-king-hrfl]

I'm not really sure how to introduce this one. It's a continuation of the Zevlor story that's quickly becoming a novel. But I'm posting it for you guys because it's kind of a snippet. It's after we find our man in the illithid colony, and he finds out what happened while he was enthralled. A brief warning. There is some angst, emotional pain, a little self-harm, and major feelings here. No smut in this one. It's also a pretty long scene. I did cry while writing it. I'm not sorry.

Tav is based on my current, who is a noble high elf silver dragon disciple. Highfalutin, I know, but that's what was in my head.

You approach Gale with a bit of trepidation. You're not sure if he'll agree, or even if your idea will work, but you have to try. Zevlor needs his people on his side. Or, at least, for them to understand what actually happened in those dark lands, when he was taken by the Absolute. But you couldn't be the one to do it.

As you move to stand near the wizard, sitting cross-legged on a mat and reading some dusty book you'd found in the house of healing, he looks up and smiles. "Greetings, Tav." Seeing the expression on your face, he rises with a look of concern. "My, you seem agitated. How can I help?"

You bite your lip and take a breath, then speak, your voice tight and apologetic. "I need a favor. If it's not... if you can manage it." 

He nods, taking your hand and pressing it. He can be so sweet sometimes. "If it is in my power, I shall do my utmost. What do you need?" 

You nod and squeeze his hand, grateful for his friendly devotion. "How are you with... mental domination?" 

His eyes widen a little, but he smiles. "I can cast the spell. Depending on the intended victim, I suppose I could maintain it almost indefinitely, as long as there are no other distractions. The power and duration really depend upon my concentration and the target's resistance. But so can you. Why? Who are we dominating today?"

You worry your lower lip with your teeth again and shake your head before continuing. "It cannot be me. They all know... look, Gale. We both know how powerful the elder brain is... with an unprepared mind, it would be almost impossible to resist its influence. Is that right?"

He nods slowly. "Yes, of course, but... oh, I see." He catches on quickly, you reflect, as he works out for himself what you want. "Let me see if I can guess your thought process. I assume this is in reference to your Hellrider and how his people have been treating him since... all that. You want to show them that what happened was not his fault, and you think a little demonstration of that kind of power would be a good way to do that. You can not perform this feat yourself because of your known association with him, so you want me to make a tiefling stand on one foot or something to demonstrate how easy it is to lose oneself in the face of strong magic." He ruminates for a moment, looking thoughtful, then shrugs and smiles. "I don't see that it could hurt to try. Courtesy dictates that I must warn the person I am to control, but even then, I should be able to hold them to my will for some time. May I involve another of our group?"

You nod. "If you think it will help. I can't really keep secrets from any of you anyway. Who are you planning to bring?"

He squeezes your hand and nods decisively before releasing you. "I had a thought to take Karlach with me. She's a tiefling, and she well knows how it is to be compelled to do things she doesn't want. I will go immediately. I saw a group of refugees in the inn recently. I imagine they haven't gone anywhere. I shall do my best to make them understand. Who is the intended target?" 

You watch Gale as he nearly bounces on his toes, seeming eager, as always, to demonstrate his skill. "Whoever is the strongest. But... well, don't hurt anyone or humiliate them too much. Just... never mind, you know what to do. It is in your capable hands."

Gale grins and bows. "My lady, I live to serve. Rest a while. You've been burning the candle at both ends lately, and you're a bit overwrought. Stay near. I'll come find you when I'm finished."

You watch him as he heads off to find Karlach and the other tieflings. You are overwrought, nervous, your concern over Zevlor and the refugees, the remaining Chosen, and the Elder Brain mingling and draining your mental faculties. You wander back to your own tent, sitting on a cushion just outside the flap and trying to meditate for a little while to clear your head. 

After what seems like ages, but is probably closer to half an hour, you sense Gale and Karlach returning, open your eyes, and struggle to your feet, trying to read their expressions. As they draw near, you can see that they are both smiling. Gale with an expression of satisfaction and Karlach a cheeky grin, bouncing a little as she approaches. She looks around when she arrives, before speaking at half her normal volume. "It worked! You're a genius, Tav. Cal volunteered. He hopped on one foot and everything! Gale was even going to make him slap Lia, but I stopped him, so he grabbed Dammon with the spell too and made them dance together! There was nothing they could do about it." She slaps Gale on the back, and the wizard wheezes, but looks pleased nonetheless. 

"Yes indeed," he continues with a smug expression. "Rolan has the strongest mind, but I do not think he would have taken my meddling with it lightly. So I thought maybe, if I dominated two of them at once, when they were prepared for it... and I made it quite clear that my powers do not nearly match those of the brain. I think it's had the desired effect. I believe Tilses went to look for him. She has been on his side the whole time anyway, and the others seem prepared both to apologize and forgive."

You blow out a breath and sag with relief. It was a long shot, and could have gone quite badly, especially with Rolan being so protective of his siblings... But hearing that your plan had worked was a welcome bright spot in an otherwise trying day. You pull them both into a hug, Gale grunting with wounded dignity and with the pressure of the grinning tiefling’s muscles crushing you both, thank them profusely, and then head off to look for Zevlor. Maybe this news would help with the deep depression he'd been struggling with since you rescued him.

The soft call of the scale you'd planted on him leads you toward Rethwin Town. As you approach the mason's guild, you see that Cerys, as well as Tilses, are standing near the doors, heads together in a fervent whispered discussion. You are opening your mouth to greet them when you're startled by a crash from inside, and the crunch and rattle of splintered wood. Cerys notices you first, and waits for you to arrive with a concerned expression. They're both looking at you nervously as another burst of noise echoes from beyond the half open doors, causing them both to flinch as you hurry over. 

Noting your concern, Tilses raises her hands, palms facing you. "He's not in any trouble. At least, not from fiends or undead. His only enemy is... well, himself." 

Your eyes widen. "Zevlor is making those noises?"

She nods, voice low, "yeah, the Commander is in a state at the moment. We came looking for him and heard the crashes... we thought he was being attacked. But... He's alone in there. At first he was shouting about being weak and unworthy, but then... well, he just started tearing the place apart."

You turn to go into the building, but Cerys catches your arm. "You might not want to go in there, Tav. He's unhinged. I've never seen him in this mood before. He might be... dangerous." 

You smile reassuringly and pat her hand. "He won't hurt me." Though, with the sounds coming from beyond the doors, you're not quite so sure as you pretend. "Go back to the inn. Please. If... if anything goes wrong... I can defend myself, but I don't want you in the crossfire. Just in case."

They exchange a long look, but then nod. "Very well," Tilses says quietly. "If anyone can help him, it's you. We know him, but he may be embarrassed... I know he thinks very highly of you." She grips your arm, a plea in her eyes, and then she and the other woman move off, looking over their shoulders once or twice. You wait until they are out of sight, and then take a deep breath and turn toward the doors. 

It is dim and dusty in the building, golden motes drifting through the newly revealed sunbeams that are filtering through holes in the battered roof. There is a flurry of movement in the back room, and you pass through the second set of doors just as Zevlor seizes a thick, rotten log from a cradle by the ruined fireplace and rips it in half with his bare hands. He casts the pieces aside and paces the width of the room, his hands shoved into his hair. There is blood on his face and hands, spattered on his dully gleaming armor, and a wreck of shattered crates and tools is scattered about. Your heart aches for him, but you hold your tongue for a moment as you sidle through the door and stand next to it, leaning your back against the wall. 

He doesn't notice you at first, so great is his distress, and in the relative quiet, you can hear him whimpering to himself, his voice hovering on the raw edge of sanity. "I tried. I'm so sorry. I wasn't strong enough. They're dead. They hate me. They're right to hate me. It's all my fault. If I had only been stronger..." He grabs another crate and sends it hurtling into the stone wall, where it explodes in a shower of splinters and small nails. You turn your head, but don't move, feeling a few shards pepper the side of your face. He turns back to pace in the other direction, stumbling and nearly falling over as he finally catches sight of you. He freezes and his eyes go wide, orange rings in deep black, shining in the gloom. His mouth wags for a moment, but then firms as he turns his face away. 

His words are a low, pained growl when he finally speaks. "You shouldn't be here." His hands flex, and you see that some of his claws are broken, his fingertips bloody. "I couldn't bear it if I... I  killed them. Leave, before I..."

You stand away from the wall, approaching him slowly, staying well out of his reach, but preparing a shield just in case. "We both know that's not true," you say quietly, your own hands wringing at your robes. "You weren't in control of..." 

He cuts you off with a roar, swinging his fist until it meets a supporting beam with a loud crack of splintered wood. The edifice sways, and dust and bits of ancient birds nests filter down from above. He's not a big man, but in this extremis he's terrifyingly strong, and you hope he doesn't manage to bring the whole roof down on your heads. "But I am responsible! I led them, it was me that... I..." He winces, looking at his hand in confusion, and you see the flash of white bone peeking through his scraped, ruby skin. Dark blood drips onto the floor from his torn flesh, drops scattering among the dust and ashes. "I wasn't good enough for them. I'm not strong enough, couldn't resist her. They're dead because of me. You don't want to associate... I've failed everyone. You deserve someone who..."

He stands there trembling for a moment before looking up and quickly striding toward you, raising his wounded hand to shove you back against the wall, your head hitting the stone so hard you see brief stars drift across your vision. He's on you in an instant, mouth crushing yours, bloody fingers pulling at your clothes. You feel all of his rage and shame and desperation as he kisses you frantically, his teeth cutting into your lips. You let him tear at you, neither returning his violent kiss nor trying to push him away. You're slightly dazed when he suddenly gasps and rips himself away from you. He pants, eyes blazing... "Gods I... I'm... you see? Im no good to anyone. I could have..." He reaches out as if to touch the drop of blood oozing from your bruised lips, a horrified expression on his face, but the lowers his eyes and drops to his knees before you. He covers his face with his hands and keens. "You don't want to be near me. Nobody wants to be near me. I see their faces when... you should leave me. I could never... never be good enough for... I'm not the man you..." he stops, shaking silently in the dust, ragged breaths filtering through his hands. 

You stand still for a moment, stunned, but then slowly let yourself sink to the floor, sliding your back down the wall until you’re sitting before him. You keep your tone gentle, "I am perfectly capable of judging for myself what kind of man you are. Here." You reach out and, ever so gently, ease his hands from his face, being careful not to put pressure on the broken one. He resists at first, but then relents. You inspect his bloody hand, lamenting to yourself that you cannot heal him, but you let coolness flow from your fingers, hoping to soothe him and ease the pain into numbness. "Hold still," you say as you release his fingers and reach beneath the hem of your robe to tear a strip from your linen under tunic. He flinches at the ripping sound, but keeps his hand stretched out before him, breathing harshly. You carefully wrap the linen around his hand, sinking a deeper cold into his inflamed flesh as you delicately press on the exposed little bone, easing it back into place and pinching the skin together before wrapping his palm firmly and tucking the end of the makeshift bandage under itself. You cradle the wounded appendage and reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek lightly. His eyes are wide, sparkling with unshed tears, his mouth working in shock, lip trembling. You lean forward a little to hold his eyes, keeping your voice soft, soothing, "you do not have to carry the world on your shoulders, my love. Let me take some of the weight. Come here."

A silent tear tracks down his ravaged cheek, but he allows you to draw him toward you, laying his bandaged hand on your lap and shifting him so he's sitting before you before pressing his face into your shoulder, lifting your chin to avoid his horns. He curls his tail around himself and hesitantly wraps his good arm around your back, and you hold the armored tiefling close as his lean frame hitches and trembes with silent, heart-wrenching sobs.

The fading beams have crawled a long way up the wall before a low voice nudges you out of your doze. "My. Aren't you two a mess." Zevlor is cradled in your arms, having fallen into a deep sleep after crying himself out. Shadowheart crouches next to you, her expression unusually soft, and looks you over. You know you must look shocking, with your lips bruised and cut, and little streaks of dried blood on your face, your eyes puffy from weeping with heartache over Zevlor's pain. She reaches out and brushes a lock of hair out of your eyes, dropping her voice to a quiet whisper. "We saw the other two return, but it took a while to get it out of them. We waited as long as we dared, and then I came because, well, I'm the most subtle." She smiles. "Good thing too. You look like you both could use a little attention." You nod and shift slightly, letting her see Zevlor's hand, wrapped in the bloody bandage on your lap. He tenses a little, tightening his grip on you and murmuring into your robe, but doesn't wake, such is his exhaustion. Shadowheart reaches out, very lightly touching her fingers to his, and whispers the spell. His breath hitches and he shudders as the tingling power filters through him, but then sighs, seeming to feel the relief even in his sleep. She heals you next, the sensation making your skin prickle with gooseflesh, but you feel the small cuts close and the bruises fade.

"Thank you," you mouth silently, and she nods, leaning back on her heels. 

"We will leave you alone as long as you wish. We just wanted to know you were safe." Her expression becomes thoughtful. "You love him." Her own nod follows yours, and she reaches out to brush one knuckle down your cheek before standing. "I'm happy for you. Truly. I will tell the others you are both alright. Take as long as you need. You deserve to be happy." Her smile is almost sweet as she turns away and silently exits the room. 

The last light is fading when Zevlor stirs against you. Slowly he turns, easing himself around in your grasp until his eyes, just a flicker of fire in the darkness now, gaze up at you. His voice is a husky whisper, "did you mean it? What you said, before. You called me... or, maybe I was dreaming." He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, a soft, happy sound. "If so, it was a wonderful dream."

You look down at him with a soft smile and bend your head to place a light kiss on his full lips. "I did. And you are. Ai armiel telere maenen hir, Zevlor, and I can only hope you feel the same." He sits up, keeping his arm about you and chuckling softly, looking at you with undisguised adoration. 

"I don't know what that means, but I think I can guess. I can see it now, in your eyes." He cups your cheek with a gentle hand. "Are you certain this is what you want? Me? Because, I know... my heart is yours for as long as I draw breath. I love you. So very much." You nod yes, and he slowly leans toward you, taking a deep trembling breath before pressing his lips softly to yours. 

Zevlor kisses you chastely for a little while, his lips and hands full of tenderness, before placing a kiss on your forehead, and then resting his own against yours. "Very well, my lady. Together, then." His words are a feather brush against your lips. "But you need me at my best if we are to prevail in this... I will seek the Oathbreaker Knight."

[sullina]

"What!?" Straw yelps, flinching back, "b-b-but why would you... you..."

Instantly the Sins and a certain Trio of Knights were back on guard, Elizabeth tense as she asks,

"Why?"

"What do you mean why, he's a demon and my brother as well! He needs to be with his own kind!" Zeldris, sensing the tension, began to growl.

"Yeah right! Captain was doing just fine without you!" Diane scoffed while King nodded along, somewhat hesitant. Afterall he had been the one to have a panic attack about whether or not Straw really was doing as well as he appeared.

"You tried to kill the Cap'n no even ten minutes ago! Do you seriously expect us to just hand him over ta ya!?" Ban grunted, coming up to place a possessive hand on Straw' shoulder as he glared at the demons, "How do we know you ain't gonna kill him?"

"Of course I'm not going to kill him! The guy doesn't even remember what he did to deserve it, that'd be cruel!" Zeldris snapped, "He's still a demon and should be with his own kind,I doubt you all will be able to help him with his powers or learning to control them."

"Plus I highly doubt he's healthy right now..." Galand snorted, "Demons are pack orientated creatures and the kid's spent a millenia separated from any other demon alive. Right now he's probably only as healthy as he is cuz he don't realize the problem!"

"Wasn't that his own choice!? You said yourself he left the demon clan!" Elizabeth pointed out, "And Straw is perfect healthy I'm sure of it!"

"No he isn't." Deriere hissed, "Too thin, not enough sleep. You humans won't recognize the problem."

It goes back and forth like that where everyone devolves into an argument over Straw while the person in question keeps looking between the two groups in alarm. All of this was so sudden he isn't sure what to do until eventually he snaps.

"Stooop!!!" Straw screams, covering his ears and closing his eyes he was so overwhelmed, "Stop, just stop it! I don't... I can't..."

Instantly the field quieted down, all eyes in the tavern master. Straw, realizing he had the floor, swallowed a bit before pointing to Zeldris,

"Why!? Why do you think I should go with you all the way to the demon realm!? If you're worried about my health can't you teach me what I need to know without takingme all the way to the underworld!? What did I even do to cause all... this!"

Zeldris stepped back, not expecting his brother to suddenly lash out like that. The tone may be uncertain and confused but the way Straw was standing was reminiscent of how he'd demand reports from the Commandments before his betrayal. Realizing what he was doing he scowled, trying to cover his instinctual reverence up, and stepped forward again,

"You're my brother, Meliodas. Even if you go by Straw now that doesn't change. You... more than any other demon... need to train within the demon realm. It's too dangerous for you to explore your powers on the human one."

"Why? I've trained to use my magic with the Sins, what's so different from my demonic powers? Why am I do different form the other demons that I have to be in the underworld!?"

"Because they aren't demigods on top of being demons!"

"...I'm a what?"

"You're a demigod, Mel- ...Straw. Our father is the demon king, the god of our race", Zeldris explained. "And because of that, our powers tend to be a lot more destructive than any other demons power."

Straw suddenly didn't feel so good. His head spun and his legs must've stopped working for a second because next thing he knew he was in Bans arms facing the sky. But whether that was from the new information alone or that combined with the perpetual feeling of hunger he felt, he wasn't sure.

[eating-him]

i'm getting over my fear of sending non-anon asks because i'm in the middle of losing my MIND i hope you can forgive any bizarre wording i make. this doesn't have to be public. i just want to send a personal thank-you YOU are the change I wanna see. ever since i got invested in CR:K my brain decided to latch onto the stinky wizard man instead of the beautiful and / or beautiful epics and legendaries and ancients that i could have endless content for. days have been spent convincing my discord friend group that this man is, in-fact, the best part about the game and that he is just as worth getting invested in as any epic. i have been starved of content after browsing his tag for three hours in what i would call an impulsive decision at 2am in the morning, so i started digging deeper. then, i found this blog. the heading and description sounded good. the intro post? even better. i spent the next hour looking through every single reblog and original post like a rat desperately digging its way into its favorite garbage bag. but what i found wasn't garbage. it was gold. your headcanons are near the same exact thoughts i have which i lack the capacity to put into words and the infodump about possible magic circles had me really fascinated with the possibilities of cookie run magic circle lore then i read the drabble and it was so well-written and had be invested so deeply so quickly that i'm massively disappointed it hasn't gotten the attention it deserves. maybe you've been told this a dozen times. maybe i'm the first one sending you anything. but you have great ideas and you fill this niche PERFECTLY and i'm still freaking out over the fact that i've found my people. maybe i'll be less scatterbrained in a day and am gonna look back on this with shame, but i'm doing what future quec would be too shy to do, and that is, decide to write a several paragraph long ask gushing about how much i like the direction you've taken and the content you provide to this rather small corner of the fandom. you're doing a great job, keep it up and i'll be there to feed on whatever you lay out onto the tray!

I am crying in the club right now.

I apologize if you didn’t want me to publish this, I’ll take it down if you don’t, but thank you so much. I have a rabid and unshakeable love for rarepairs and characters who get little love on their own, and Wizard Cookie is too incredible for me to resist squeezing him like a stress toy until fanfic pops out. I’m so glad you sent this because I have never, never gotten a comment like this, not even on my AO3. I’m glad I could make your night better with my silly little headcanons.

My philosophy about art is that it’s art if you get a reaction, and dear gods this is a reaction. The last fandom I actively made content for, I got messages telling me to stop writing trash. So. I might be a little bit stunned.

As for what’s next on the tray, I’m currently working on a villainous and emotionally charged tango as well as some mental illness headcanons, but rest assured Wizard Cookie is my poor little meow meow and I will be providing food for your table.

–🧿

[kamosweasley]

Not that damn song again (George Weasley x Reader)

Description : It's Christmas time so a cute fluffy fic about it sounds right. And I'm a simp for George (and Christmas songs), I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words count : 2.5K

Author note's : lyrics from All I want for Christmas by Mariah Carey are in italics.

Tag list : @memekingofwwiii

It's terribly cliché but you can't lie, you love Christmas. There is no better time of year, with snow, hot chocolate, big sweaters, cinnamon cookies and decorations everywhere, how not to love it ? You don't understand people who prefer summer with its sweltering heat and sunburn and all those damn mosquitoes. But unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is a man of the second category whereas you are a woman of the first category. Which makes some things a bit complicated, like you grumbling when he wants to pull you out in the July sun or like him not being able to stand the Christmas carols that you play over and over again from the first of November.

“Not that damn song again …” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. “Darling I love you, but if you play this song one more time ...”

“Come on Georgie, it’s Christmas time ! Listening to Christmas songs is essential to my mental health right now. It's either that or stuff myself with cinnamon cookies with the delicious icing and not fit into my favorite sweaters anymore. You really don't like it ?”, coming to give him a back hug with puppy eyes. He never resists you with those eyes, he loves to see them disappear to give way to a big smile.

“I'm sorry my love, but at the end of the fiftieth listening of your playlist I started to hate Santa Claus and the sound of the bells.”

You're both sitting on his bed, he's finishing his potion homework but he's not getting very far with you in the same room listening to the same songs for over a month. He hates it because he loves you with all his heart, but he's starting to wish he could go deaf so he can't stand those melodies which haunt him even in his sleep. He would love it as much as you do, but the more the days go by, the more he understands this will never be the case. And he doesn't want to put limits on how you enjoy this time, he knows how much it means to you.

You put your hands under his sweater to warm your hands, the contact of your cold skin on his abdo makes him startle as you let out a giggle.

“Sorry, my hands are cold and I know that your mother's sweaters keep me warm so I took advantage of it …”

“I know darling, it's absolutely not to satisfy your wandering hands.” he says as he turns his head to kiss you, “I'm going to ask my mother to knit you some mittens, since it's very warm.”

“Good idea, I'm freezing to death right now.” George begins to turn around with a grin on his face, ready to warm you up in his own way but you haven’t noticed his purpose, “I'm going to go make hot chocolate in the kitchen, do you want some too ? I can bring you a cup, I make the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted. No offense to your mom who must make really good ones too, but mine is better.”

You often take him by surprise, changing the subject or not noticing how the situation is turning out and he always found it charming. You make him think of Luna a little bit, on another level but just as clueless as her sometimes. Your boyfriend smiles at you, returning to his potion homework. “Anything to please you darling.”

“You'll see, it's fabulous! I have a secret ingredient, if you're nice I might tell you what it is.” you put on one of his sweaters that you take from his suitcase before you wink at him and leave the room. He should take advantage of the silence of your absence to finish his damn homework in a hurry but he can't concentrate. Potion is boring and he really loves it when you wear one of his sweaters, it's way too big for you and that's what makes you so adorable. And you will come to spend a few days at the Burrow, meet his parents as his girlfriend and receive your own sweater knitted by Molly. He hopes that you will continue to steal from him even if you have your own.

“Here it is ! Taste it and tell me.” you say while putting the cup in his hand. You already know what he’ll say of course, everybody loves your hot chocolate, there is no reason for your boyfriend not to do the same. He thanks you before taking a sip of the hot drink, ready for a chocolate too sweet with some spice in it. And it is, but he has to admit that it is particularly good. He nods his head before he smiles at you. “You're right, it's the best I've ever tasted.” He puts his cup on the bedside table and returns to his parchment.

“So why don't you keep drinking it ? It doesn't look like the best hot chocolate you've ever tasted.” You're sure George didn't lie to you, but you still hoped he would act on his words. When he tells you it's the best hot chocolate he's ever had in his hands, you wish he wouldn't let go of the cup until he's finished it. Maybe you have a misplaced ego but this chocolate is your personal pride and you want your boyfriend to treat it well.

He runs a hand through his hair, not even taking his eyes off his homework. “I've never been a big fan of hot chocolate or Christmas cookies and certainly not of all those bell-filled songs. I’m sorry darling but I never liked any of this.” You melt before his eyes, he is sincerely sorry he doesn't like what makes you so happy and you think it's too cute.

"I'm just not a Christmas person. It's good because we saw family and have presents but still don't get what you found in this period.” You come and join him on the bed, sitting in a suit in front of him. “It’s simple. Let it snow, Jingle Bell Rock, All I Want For Christmas, it’s all about a magical time.” In his eyes you can tell that he doesn't understand at all what you're talking about, which is amazing when you consider how much time he spent listening to all those songs. “We are wizards. Our whole life is magical, I'm not sure I understand you on that point.” You grab a roll of parchment and hold it as if it were a microphone, looking at him with a glim in your eyes.

The best thing you can do to help him understand is to show him. You’re not a good singer, at least George never complains about it, perhaps because he tries very hard to keep his mind upright since he doesn’t like your playlist. It's unlikely you'll be able to change his mind, but a little a capella karaoke should put a smile on his face.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the present, underneath the Christmas tree.” While keeping your fake microphone close to your mouth, you point at your boyfriend with the same expression as Mariah Carey in the clip. “I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know ! Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is you !”

As it is impossible to sing Mariah Carey without playing the diva, you give it your all and when you see George's smile, you do it well. It must be your acting more than the words of love that make him smile like that, it's like he's trying to restrain himself from laughing.

“'Cause I just want you here tonight, holding on to me so tight.” On all fours you come and sit between his legs, facing him. He puts his cold hands on your hips passing them under the elastic of your jogging, a smirk on his lips. You shiver from the sudden cold on your skin but don't stop singing, your face getting closer and closer to his. “What more can I do ? Baby, all I want for Christmas is you ! You, baby.”

He's right in front of you. Your noses are touching, your eyes are immersed in each other and you melt like snow in the sun at the intensity of this moment. Damn you love him.

The hunger in his eyes devours you before his lips reach yours. A passionate, fiery, kiss that will get you high. Your head empties itself of all words and thoughts, your hands naturally place themselves in his hair and behind your closed eyes you imagine his smile, his eyes shining with mischief, his hand holding yours and all those little things that make you fall for him. Over and over again.

Gasping for air, the kiss is stopped. You're almost dizzy, head spinning with butterflies messing around in the belly. Liking George Weasley drives you crazy, there's no telling, you've never felt that way about anyone else. Before him you'd never been that high, you'd never had a simple kiss that made you tremble, you'd never dreamed of spending the rest of your life with someone. George Weasley is the kind of man you should treasure, marry and have as a father to your children. For the simple reason that he will be wonderful in all these roles, with him everyday life will never be boring, he will always have the words to make you laugh or smile. He will give love like no one else to his children, an exemplary father who will take care of his children as if they were the greatest wonders in this world.

You have no doubt about it, your boyfriend will offer a wonderful life to the woman he chooses. That's why you're not going to let him go. Your lover.

You suddenly open your eyes as you feel yourself tilted to the side with George, he's still holding you against him and you land softly on the comforter and pillows. You're lying against each other and George slips one of his legs between yours so that they get tangled up. “Now we’re good darling.” He kisses your forehead and plays with a strand of your hair, it's so peaceful. “I haven't finished the song.” You feel his mouth smiling against your forehead. “Who cares ? Certainly not me, I heard what I needed to hear. I think I understand now.”

“Do you ?”

“Yes, but I still hate Christmas songs.”

You lean on your forearm to look down on him, looking pouty. “C’mon ! You’re overreacting, this song is brand new. It's only been out for a month, you can't already hate it.” He grabs you by the shoulders and applies pressure to force you to lie down, not softened by your pouty air. “You listen to it all the time and if not, you sing it. Believe me, one month is enough to get sick of it.”

After being a diva a few minutes before, you're having fun being a diva again because after all, you can't talk about Mariah like that. And you can't help but defend the honor of your favorite Christmas songs. With a burning gaze, fists on your hips and a somewhat condescending tone, you fight back. “It’s Mariah Carey so it will be a massive hit, I’m sure of it. And at least, I’m sure you will think of me every time you’ll hear this song for the rest of your life.” Smiling at you, he adopts the same facial expression and flutters his eyes saying to you in a sweet voice: “The only way I'm going to hear this song again is from you. It's a Muggle song, no one is going to know it among wizards.”

Rolling on yourself to be flat on your stomach, half on George given the proximity that the bed offers you, you give him a charming wink as you rest your chin on your hands.

“That’s what I’m saying. At the end of each year you will hear this song many, many, many times and you will think of that moment when I sang it to you in your dorm at Hogwarts. You will see the scene again as you hear me singing it from the other side of our house. Because we're going to spend our whole lives together.” Since you're already half on top of him, he has no problem placing you on top of him, kissing both your cheeks and your forehead as you go by, making you giggle. “You’re a genius. You really thought of everything.”

You mess his hair before wedging your head in his neck, breathing in his scent. You smile against his throat and you know him well enough to know that it makes him smile back. “How could I want to live without you ? You know how to make yourself indispensable Georgie, it's almost annoying.” You love it when he runs his hand through your hair, it's the most relaxing thing ever. His other hand traces back and forth in your back, making you a little sleepy. This man knows how to deal with you. “Because you thought you were the only one who thought of everything? I would never let you go.”

If you could stop time and stay like this forever, you would do it without hesitation. You're comfortable in a bed, just the two of you, your hearts are beating at the same rhythm and you're in love. Then it smells like hot chocolate and you've managed to make him smile to a Christmas song. You never want to forget this moment. “Fine by me Georgie.”

You can't resist the temptation to hum Last Christmas, but George's caresses make you fall asleep little by little. You stop before the end of the song and in a few minutes you fall asleep on him. He kisses the top of your head, finding you absolutely adorable. You always manage to fall asleep quickly when you are being tickled, which makes him very tender and amuses him a lot. He often teases you about it, it always annoys you and he finds it even cuter.

Feeling your body rise slightly to the rhythm of your breathing, he starts humming the end of Last Christmas. He takes advantage of you being asleep, so you won't be able to talk to him about it someday. Continuing to run his hand through your hair and humming Christmas music, he smiles as he looks up at the ceiling. You are with him, alone and calm, in perfect harmony and he always liked to feel the beat of your heart when you cuddle. It's that kind of perfect moment. And he wishes it would never end.

[frickfrackiwastakingabath]

Back on my bullshit, did I ever really get off?

Anyway, I'll build the empires gt community from the ground up if I have to. I love gt fantasy settings.

I've also decided to call this au "wither rose fairies au" and it will be tagged as such.

A Little Help

No tws

...

Jimmy paced his bedroom. There was a ceremony in a week, one he was the star of. If he was like any previous Cod Father, Jimmy would make water like illusions in the sky of cod sigils, a start to a new year blessed by the fish the merlings of the swamp are descended from.

But no matter how much Jimmy tried, the spell won't work. His fingertips spark with green light, but nothing happens.

He looks at the folded up note on his desk.

NO. Jimmy didn't need help from a vermin of a fairy, one who wrote a very condescending letter at that.

And don't think he didn't notice how the fairy's "friends" had been tormenting him. Knocking things over, stealing anything he leaves alone for five seconds, stealing his lapis and drawing on his counters.

He could do this by himself. He's got this. He just needs to focus, practice. He will be the Cod Father the Empire expects him to be.

-

It was two days before the ceremony, and nothing. He was impatient. Hundreds of years of tradition, broken because of him.

He was getting desperate.

The morning sun was rising, and Jimmy had spent all of last night practicing to no avail. The cod chose him for a reason, unless it was all some fluke and Jimmy was going to be burnt at the stake for idolatry or false worship.

Jimmy's eye caught on a folded note on the kitchen counter by his cod aquarium. Didn't he leave that on his desk?

Jimmy gave a resigned sigh, stupid clever fairy. "Tay?"

...

Fwip and Sausage still had their eyes closed, breathing steady, glowing dimly. Asleep. It made sense for how early in the morning it was.

Gem was always up, writing down everything she remembered from the scrolls from the colony on the inside of the walls. While she would never guide the colony, like she was trained her whole life to do, she still could improve her and her friends' quality of their new life.

But, like always (But recently more so), Gem was tired. Sausage and Fwip joked she was nocturnal, falling asleep late in the morning and leaving the other two to their devices for the day. Writing things down in the night.

Gem was ripped out of her drowsiness hearing Jimmy yell. Of course she knew he was in the room she was writing on, attempting some sort of spell, really struggling. Her ears were alert for the name of her alias.

And he said it!

Gem jotted down a quick note on a paper scrap for Fwip and Sausage when they woke up, little white lies about taking a morning stroll and getting bearings in the swamp. She tip toed out of the wall, fluttering up behind the merling.

Gem dusted off her dress and hood, wanting to make a good first impression. She cleared her throat right by his ears.

Jimmy whipped around, Gem resisting the urge to flinch at the sudden giant movements. Was this a bad idea? No, Gem was smart and made good decisions. It was too late to back out now either way.

"Hello, Jimmy," Gem greeted, keeping her breath steady and slow. No books could prepare her for how big humanoids were face to face. "Lets take this outside."

...

Jimmy was more stunned than anything. Being honest, he kind of thought the letter was a prank.

But no, in front of him was a fairy. Tay wore a green leafy dress with a soft purple petal like cloak. On top her head covering her long red hair was a purple flower of the same color, looking like a wizard hat a bit too big for her. Her wings were delicate like a dragonfly, but when reflected in the star light were translucent purples and blues.

"Do I get to know your actual name? Jimmy asked once outside. They were in the temple garden, over run with vines and moss, a pond of cod in the center like every other structure in the empire.

"No," Tay answered, no hesitation whatsoever. "Can you show me the spell you're trying to do?"

Jimmy took the instructions out of his pocket, engraved on a stone tile. He held it up to Tay's eye level where she was flying.

"Its a ceremonial festive spell the Cod Father has to perform," Jimmy explained. Tay looked over unimpressed, like she already knew that. "The ceremony's tomorrow and I can't get it right. Can you help?"

Tay inspected the spell, nodding. "Lets see what we can do.

...

Gem flew back into the walls an hour or two later, feeling refreshed from the outside air. Especially compared to the stuffiness of the walls.

Fwip and Sausage were not where she left them, so they must be out borrowing. Gem collapsed on the pile of cloth and fuzz they've amassed since settling in here. Writing down magic was one thing, demonstrating it was another. Gem was exhausted, but glad she could help.

As her mind faded to sleep, Gem could barely hear the frustrated cries of Jimmy or her fairy friends' laughter.

...

The audience applauded Jimmy as he bowed, the magic sensation still ticking his finger tips. Only took the early hours of an morning, but Tay was a surprisingly good teacher.

The rest of the day was spent dancing and playing games, so Jimmy was spent when he got home. He made himself some food, his eye catching on something before he closed the cabinet.

Sweet crackers, a dessert snack common in the empire. Jimmy put one in his mouth forgetting how good they tasted, sad there were only a few left. He thought for a moment before pushing the jar to the ground. Terracotta and crackers went everywhere.

"Shoot!" Jimmy said, putting on his best mad voice. Luckily, some fairies have been making him very mad lately. "I'll clean that up tomorrow, a shame I'll have to get rid of all these."

Jimmy went up to his room, hoping Tay appreciated the thank you gift.

[maglors-anion-gap]

21. Do you ever want to write a novel/original work?

29. Where do you get your inspiration from?

40. What do you think your writing speciality is?

45. A fic you look forward to writing in the future?

48. How do you deal with coming up with titles?

For the writer asks? Thankyou and I hope you're doing good!

[for this ask game]

Thanks!! <3

21. Novels or original works:

I have some ideas that I’m turning over in my head. When I was 11-13, I lived in the same neighborhood as my best friend, and we would spend the bus ride too and from school generating literally binders and file folders full of story ideas and material. She still had all the papers lmao, I’ve been meaning to go through them at some point and see if she wants to collaborate on something. Based on our schedules, it will be an epic adventure to actually finish it, such that it won’t get published until we’re 80.

29. Inspiration:

Ahh that’s a good question! I actually have a really hard time visualizing new things or coming up with inspiration. One big thing is music. Lyrics often remind me of characters or events, and then I think “what would need to happen in a narrative to evoke this feeling?” Another is whatever I’m learning about. I wrote something for this year’s Tolkien reverse summer bang that included a snippet about the ginkgo tree being the only remaining organism of those it evolved alongside as a metaphor for grief and loneliness. Catch me inserting random botany (or any science, really) into my fic. The world is my oyster soapbox.

40. Writing specialty:

I would say probably descriptions. You can count on me to find the right word for something. Which is in direct contrast with the fact that plot is my huge Achilles heel. I will deliver you a final product that makes you Feel Things but contains zero conflict/journey/movement. :/

45. A fic for the future:

Hmm, I have a lot of WIPs just sitting around, in various stages of development and with varying levels of quality. I’ve really wanted to write a series of short vignettes about what happened in Harad and the eastern reaches of middle earth during the events of LoTR, and what the blue wizards were up to. I didn’t like the way Tolkien treated the Haradhrim, and I think there was so much unexplored potential that he perhaps discarded out of bias. I would be interested in exploring the dynamic between the independent governments of the kingdoms and Sauron’s influence. I don’t buy into the idea that they accepted him open-armed. And I definitely don’t buy that they were immediately on-board with providing sauron with an army to besiege Gondor. So: harad resistance fighters? What would concerted rebellion against an all-knowing totalitarian entity look like? That said, the oliphaunt in the room has to be addressed (centuries of numenorian/gondorian imperialism and hostility). Also, I just like the blue wizards, there’s so much blank space to work with.

48. Titles:

I hear that some individuals put their Spotify on shuffle and listen for anything that catches their attention and is even mildly related to the fic in question. It’s me, I’m individuals.

[magicalhideoutengineer]

Eddie: It's actually… Salamanders is not a cheesy line. What I love about that weird line is that Tina gets it. Jacob [says], "Don't say that," and secretly Newt knows that she's going to love it.

Katherine: She going to get it. 

Eddie: It's, like, primitive.

Eddie: As far as Newt changing in this, what I love is that he has… Newt has always been an outsider. He's created this cocoon of safety for himself, and he's a good person and he has great quality with these creatures, but is that enough? Is it enough to be a good morally upstanding person?

Katherine: Within the comfort of your own home.

Eddie: Exactly. When the stakes of the world are so extreme. And I feel like in this film, he realizes not only does he have to engage, but he [has to] get Dumbledore to engage.

Katherine: Right. What makes Newt so special to Dumbledore? Because he talks about Newt having a desirable skill set, and we're talking about the strongest wizard in the wizarding world, Albus Dumbledore, not having a skill set that Newt has. Can you explain?

Eddie: I think that what I love about Newt is that he's not the greatest wizard in the world, but his skill set is so specific. I mean, Tina and Newt call Grindelwald at the end of the last film using a distraction technique – had to see this one – and the sort of lasso [pronounced "lay-sew"] that Dumbledore wouldn't have thought to use.

Eddie: For me, the end of this film and the way it seemed to cut between Johnny sort of enticing Ezra in and me sort of confronting Jude's character, Dumbledore, going away, you've got, "If you're going to send me out into the field, no more lies. We have to be in this together and you need to act." It feels like an engagement of that group who were on the bridge outside Hogwarts and this Darker side.

Katherine: I mean, it's so much fun because it's the one areas thing. The audience has this huge advantage over the characters. When we think the relationship is in trouble, it's serious business. We don't, playing these parts, know, "I probably think it's going to work out in the end." So when things go wrong, it gets intense, and it was so much fun fighting with you in this one.

Katherine: To just be really annoyed because of course that thing when someone has really gotten under your skin or is really frustrating you, it's typically like a sound indication that you're drawn to them. It's really [unintelligible]. And so it was really fun to push against that, to resist the romance in a way, to give the audience that pleasure of saying, " Oh, these two idiots. They don't know what we know. They don't know it's going to work out.”

Eddie: And it's also that we don't know until we read the script what the story is going to be. In the first film, we got to work together so much, so this one I was just like, "What? I don't get to hang out with Katherine until when?”

Press: Can you offer changes or say, "I'd like to get this explained better" or "We need another scene about this"? Or is this verboten?

Eddie: That's a really interesting question because the script is... Jo always writes with great vigor and there's extraordinary detail. But there are moments. For example, I remember originally in the script we saw that zouwu, we were introduced to that character. But we wanted to come up with at least one more moment of connection, we felt, between the zouwu and Newt. So we put in that tiny little scene when he's down in the case. And that zouwu, I had this idea, [for] with cats, when there's a thing of wool or a mouse, they play with it. And they pick it up and play with it again and then they fiddle with it. So we came up with it, an idea, collectively, to show Newt's relationship as he takes [unintelligible]. So Jo has this amazing thing by which, yes, she writes and she writes it fully and thoroughly, but she allows us the freedom to play within that.

Katherine: And we also recklessly invent new tasks for the CGI department in a way to problem-solve within the scenes. So then rather than giving a note about, "I'd like to change the writing of a scene" or anything like that, which we don't do, we all think, "Well..." When I went into the speakeasy in the first film, I thought, "She would look like a government official if she stays in a regular outfit and she wouldn't look right there." And I thought, "It would be really great if I had the appropriate attire." And we just thought, "Well, we got these wands." And the CGI department was like, "Okay, guys, it's going to take us a moment."

Press: What was your reaction when you heard the first time Johnny's character's speech about good and bad and right and wrong? And it's pretty striking, as you can imagine. So what was your reaction?

Katherine: Well, I mean, I guess first we saw it on the page, and I was just thrilled to see Jo exploring these issues. That was so the issues of our time, and are also the issues of the period in which the film is set. And that we know where that led us in the 20th century and to consider the possibility that we could be hurtling in that direction, again, is totally chilling. And then you put an actor into it who shows us how this happens. It's not by being simply terrifying, but being seductive and having logical arguments and encouraging people to take sides and to vilify the other. You see it takes a cunning person to manipulate people that way. And Johnny really understood that and I thought he delivered it masterfully. Although, I wasn't wearing my contacts in that scene.

[Everyone laughs]

Katherine: Because when I do wear my contacts while filming, they fog up and then I start blinking and tweaking out in weird ways. So I could not see him delivering it at all. It was so frustrating because it was a big amphitheater and I was quite a way [back] in the nosebleeds. And I was frustrated. I haven't seen the film yet, but I have to wait until I see it to actually fully take in what he was doing.

Press: And Eddie?

Eddie: Same. I mean, honestly, that was beautifully articulated. Yeah. It's a mixture of... that it's not as simple as black and white. That the use of charm, the use of seemingly rational arguments that manipulate.

[greeneyedsnake]

Hello! I've seen loads of asks here about Daphne Greengrass,apparently she and Harry até being shipped a lot. Well,I think you made a wonderful job, since she doesn't appear in the books. I wanted to ask you what are your thoughts on the Greengrass sisters? You're an amazing writer! Have a lovely day!

Thank you! I don’t think I can take any credit for the shipping, though, since that’s happening entirely of its own accord...but I’m glad people like her!

As to the Greengrass sisters, oh gosh do I have thoughts! 

Okay, I’m going to put them under a cut because while I don’t think any of this technically counts as spoiler-territory, better safe than sorry right?

So first of all, this is my favorite Greengrass family headcanon I’ve ever seen. Much of my own Greengrass sisters headcanon stems from there, more or less. I mean it goes off on branches...but that’s where the roots started.

(Note that these are general canon headcanons that I hold for the Greengrass girls, and as such may not apply to the Green-Eyed Snake series...but for the most part, they do. For the most part, I’m using my general canon headcanons as my default for writing this AU, and only deviate when I think someone will specifically work better for this story. All talk about future events, however, should definitely not be taken as relevant to the Green-Eyed Snake universe, because I honestly don’t even know who’s going to live to the end of this story yet, let alone who’s going to end up with whom!)

So...my thoughts about the Greengrasses:

I see Daphne as being someone who was embarrassed by her family’s comparatively meager social standing and wealth (relative to the elite of pure-blood society), and who tried to hide it and compensate for it when she got to Hogwarts, and clung to girls like Pansy Parkinson as a shield even when they insulted or mocked her. She was someone who wanted out, who wanted to get away from Knockturn Alley and the apothecary and the very idea of working for a living. She wanted the dream of easy wealth and comfort and big sprawling manors with vaults full of jewels.

I see Astoria as being someone who never paid much attention to the so-called social stigma of being “in trade,” and who enjoyed playing with the plants and the growing and who never liked gossiping with the customers very much, but more because she’d rather leave her nose in her book than talk to them than because she was ashamed of her family’s situation. She didn’t mind living in Knockturn Alley or wearing her sister’s outgrown robes to school, and in fact made a deal with her parents that if she took hand-me-down robes she could use the money they saved there on her books and school instruments instead and get her better quality things than they’d otherwise have afforded.

I see Daphne as loving her little sister and wanting to look out for her, but also being convinced that she knows what’s best for Astoria, and trying to mold and shove her into being the type of girl she thinks they both ought to be -- gossipy social-climbers who care about how fashionable their robes are more than they do their grades -- and Astoria quietly resisting her sisters efforts, which puts a brief wedge between the girls in their adolescence because they don’t understand one another and neither wants to compromise; Daphne resents that Astoria doesn’t seem embarrassed by second-hand robes and shabby books, that she doesn’t try to hide their circumstances, resents that Astoria isn’t grateful to her for all her efforts moving them up the social ladder and won’t do anything to help. Astoria resents being told she has to act differently, resents being told that she ought to be ashamed of things she doesn’t care about, resents her sister bossing her around “for her own good” instead of getting to know her as she is.

I see Astoria as being the sort of girl who does not put up with that for very long, because while she at first valued her sister’s advice when she began her transition, it soon began to feel more confining and constricting than it did constructive, and there’s no wrong way to be a witch, thanks anyway Daphne.

I see the Greengrass parents as having met over plants: she liked herbology, and his parents had an apothecary, and they talked plants more than anything else and still argue about conflicting schools of thought on what to grow and how and what each plant should best be used for, etc. Financial and social strain has added weight to their marriage, especially since their children were born, and they aren’t the cheerfully and constantly arguing couple they once were -- but they don’t hate each other. They just always worked better as colleagues than as a couple, but by the time they figured that out it was too late, and now Mr. Greengrass maybe drinks a little more firewhiskey than he should because he feels ashamed for not being able to better provide for his family and recoup the lost family fortune, and Mrs. Greengrass yells at all of them more than she’d like to because she resents the fact that their situation never improved the way she expected it to...but they don’t hate each other. They just argue more about money than plants these days, which is much less pleasant and much less constructive, and they spend a lot of time in different bedrooms, and are too busy with the business to give their children as much attention as they say they would like to. Neither of them have ever found a long term side-affair; maybe they would both be happier if they did.

The sisters have some Chinese ancestry on the maternal side of the family, and their mother retains enough of her grandparents’ knowledge of Chinese magicks and herbology that she can use it to supplement her and her husband’s standard Hogwarts education, which has been a boon to the apothecary -- but still not as much of a financial success as she had hoped it would be. The British wizarding world is prejudiced against foreign magicks, after all, and so for every patron impressed with the novel and unique things offered at their apothecary, there are two more who turn their noses up at anything that has a tinge of “foreigness” to it, regardless of actual superiority or inferiority.

I see Daphne as being a little bit chubby all her life, with a round pale gold face and long thick black curls and a wide round nose and little round chin. She wishes she was tall and sleek, and occasionally tries really foolish diets in an attempt to get herself to look more like the witch she thinks she ought to be. Pretty, adorable, charming, cute, dainty -- those are all words that can easily be applied to Daphne. She doesn’t want those words: she wants lovely, she wants stunning, she wants elegant. Daphne’s biggest problem is always wanting what she doesn’t have. It drives her, needles at her, bleeds her. As she fills-out, ages, and lightens-up, she grows into her curves and if she ever let herself really own them she’d be a vivacious beauty, but Daphne will never be 100% comfortable with who she is.

I see Astoria as sharing the same plump proportions when she’s little, being a little bit chubbier and shorter even, but slimming out a bit as she gets older -- never to the point of being a girl that would be described as scrawny, but one who might be called delicate -- and being perfectly happy with her body, although she wouldn’t object to being a little bit taller if someone gave her the option. (Especially once she has to start craning her neck to look up at her son, as well as her husband and in-laws.) She has thick black curls too but as she gets older she tends to pull them back in simple ponytails and buns instead of the cascades of ribbons and headbands and twisted braids that her sister spends so much time on. Her complexion is a darker gold than Daphne’s because she spends more time in the greenhouses and thus picks up some sun, despite Daphne’s constant chiding to wear a hat or cast a sun-shielding charm on herself beforehand. She keeps her nails short for digging in the dirt and cleans them meticulously rather than varnishing them like Daphne.

Both girls favor cute, flowery, ruffled clothing, although as they age Daphne’s style grows more sleek while Astoria’s becomes more simple, but they both retain a very traditionally feminine aesthetic. Daphne wears more jewelry than Astoria does, but -- after her marriage, at least -- Astoria’s is higher quality.

Eventually Daphne grows out of being so concerned with appearances, with being who she should be and instead focusing on who she is, and in the end she marries a much subdued, slightly sullen, slightly gentler (but never gentle) Pansy Parkinson, which makes for some awkward family gatherings with the Malfoys. They give their daughter Daphne’s last name, because they want her to be spared Pansy’s minor but lingering infamy, and keep to themselves and their small social circle rather than striving for the prestige and influence that Daphne (and Pansy) always dreamed of having when they were young, and they’re happy enough...although they both still long for those old unattainable dreams.

Astoria and Draco never had much to do with one another growing up and only really start conversing over potions and plants in his seventh year and her fifth, which is a good thing because by then Draco has become much less of an arse when speaking to people, and if she had known him better earlier she probably would never have fallen in love with him later. They live an even more sedate and reclusive life than the Greengrass-Parkinsons, and they both prefer it that way, because Astoria was never an extrovert and Draco...well, he learned to dislike being in the center of attention. So they keep to themselves and dote on their son and try to find a balance between spoiling him and spoiling him rotten. Astoria and Lucius get along well enough through their bond over the gardens, because that was always Lucius’s hobby and he likes having a daughter-in-law who shares the interest, but she and Narcissa never really warm up to each other -- although Narcissa would murder anything that hurt Astoria because she makes her precious son happy, and she dotes on Scorpius as much as anyone; she just doesn’t care much for Astoria, personally. She’s too open-minded. But the little family is happy enough in the secluded, reclusive peace of their manor, safe from the dangers that almost destroyed them, and that’s as happily an ever-after as any of them can claim a right to having.

And fuck Cursed Child and it’s appalling, sexist, “we’re going to fridge a female character off-screen to give the male characters pain trope.” Astoria does not have some weird bloodline curse that kills her early, thank you very much.