#you understood the assignment quill

[silverskye13]

the godawful hels-mirror of helsknight being a growing force, fighting with vigor and pale hair and freckles to EB's slowly dimming star. a frustrating reminder that hels would continue once EB did not. a fresh face full of poetry and naive notions of honor. desperate to prove himself in the way of children longing to be taken seriously.

and EB watching, now sure of himself and his place in the world, no longer vying for life, helpless to do any more than return the favor as helsknight's hair dulled and his poetic faded into raging impotence. a burning need to prove himself in the way of dying men clawing at the world desperate to leave a mark of their existence.

And the universe said: I feel nothing for you, for you came from nothing

[confused-stars]

honestly, as much as i detest the mcu, i somehow do find myself drawn in by any Peter Quill content that does not feature the crisp rat playing him

[mirclealignr]

—hard work’s pay off

hermione granger x slytherin!reader

—this was a request from ages ago. lol.

hermione granger—studious, diligent and, supposedly, the brightest witch of her age. but it wasn’t all this glitz and glam that drew you to the frizzy-haired gryffindor.

it started in first year, when you discovered she was so painfully easy to wind up. it could be something as small as whispering when the professor was talking or something as large as deliberately making it seem as if you were trying to copy her work.

it was so easy it almost became addictive. but also as you grew older and your interests changed, it wasn’t solely just about driving her round the bend. it became an excuse to talk to her, to see her flustered and her cheeks glow rosy.

“granger, granger, granger,” you sighed teasingly, sitting in your assignee seat beside her. “i heard you got a ‘poor’ in charms the other week, slacking are we?”

“what?!” hermione was appalled. who would spread such vicious, baseless lies about her? “that’s outrageous!”

“but not an ‘outstanding’. in fact it’s shocking,” you cut in with a smirk before she could carry on.

she was red up to her ears but slowly calming down as she began to realise you were only teasing, as usual. she seethed silently, turning her head away before taking a deep breath—she couldn’t let you get to her.

“whatever.”

you laughed, “you believed me for a moment there, didn’t you, granger?”

“well, in regards to one’s reputation, one can’t be too careful,” hermione said, holding her head high.

“oh don’t get all diplomatic on me. i got you good.”

hermione was now exercising the tried and tested method of the silent treatment. she was particularly well versed in this skill but you knew there was one thing she could not stand—quill scratching. it was the wizard from of clicking a pen incessantly, except it consisted of scratching a dry quill against parchment. hermione hated it.

“will you stop that?!” she groaned, almost catching the attention of professor snape, if it weren’t for seamus finnigan setting fire to half of his essay.

you giggled, carrying on with your assignment, at least for a little while. still, you caught small glances of hermione in the corner of your eye, you were drawn to her and you couldn’t help but to look. she was still scowling, scribbling away furiously, writing every idea that came to mind with perfect fluency.

“don’t frown, granger,” you smirked, stretching your arms. “you’re much prettier when you smile.”

“merlin’s beard, y/n, i’m trying to concentrate.”

“just one smile?” you teased.

hermione looked at you through her peripheral vision, scrunching her eyebrows together. “you’re flirting with me,” she stated, for she was a clever girl and did not need to ask.

you chuckled lightly, “do you want me to stop?”

she tucked her arms into herself, awkwardly looking between you and her work before scribbling away again, refusing to answer and play into such schemes. she didn’t say another word for the rest of the lesson and you didn’t bother her again, sensing she was better left alone.

when professor snape dismissed the lot of you, hermione found herself desperate to respond to your previous question but too nervous to give a definitive answer, even if she already knew what that answer was.

“i haven’t decided,” she stated plainly, hugging her books to her chest.

“haven’t decided what?” you asked.

“if i want you to stop flirting,” she rushed, cheeks glowing with blush.

“well that’s not a no.”

“it’s not a yes,” she countered, turning on her heels and storming away.

“still not a no!” you shouted after her, smirking.

all your years of hard work were finally paying off. hermione was finally giving into you. it didn’t matter if no one else understood your infatuation with her, it didn’t bother you in the slightest. you hadn’t a care, but for hermione granger.

“i don’t know why you bother with her,” pansy shook her head, walking with you to lunch.

“the same way i don’t know why you bother with malfoy. we have our reasons,” you rolled your eyes, linking arms with your friend. “she’s coming around,” you winked.

i don’t have a tag list but if you’d like to be notified when i post, follow @mirclesjournal and turn post notifications on!

[rosesareredrosa]

Show You How Much I Care

Lorenzo Berkshire x fem reader

Summary: Little things Lorenzo does to show y/n how much he cares

w/c: 1069

Lorenzo Berkshire, the charming and enigmatic member of the Slytherin crew, had always had a knack for reading people. Yet, when it came to Y/N, a girl who seemed to shine with an inner light, he found himself captivated. Unlike many others at Hogwarts, Y/N was genuine and kind, navigating the social landscape with refreshing authenticity. Lorenzo admired her from afar and, over time, felt a growing desire to show her how much he cared.

The Care Package

One day, after overhearing Y/N mention her struggles with schoolwork, Lorenzo decided to help. He discreetly gathered a selection of books and notes that could aid her studies. Alongside these, he added a few of her favorite snacks—a small detail he had picked up from observing her during meals.

That evening, Y/N returned to her dormitory to find a basket waiting for her. Inside was a note written in Lorenzo's neat handwriting:

"For the times when things get tough. Take care, Y/N. - Enzo"

Y/N felt a warm flush spread across her cheeks as she read the note. She had always seen Lorenzo as the laid-back, cool member of his group, but this thoughtful gesture revealed a depth she hadn't expected. It was a small act, but it showed that he had been paying attention and cared about her well-being.

The Potions Class Incident

During a challenging Potions class, Professor Snape assigned the students a complex potion requiring precise timing and careful handling. Y/N, who generally enjoyed Potions, found herself unusually nervous, fumbling with the ingredients. She glanced at her notes, trying to recall the exact sequence, but her anxiety clouded her memory.

Lorenzo, at the next table, noticed her distress. He watched as she hesitated, holding a vial of powdered unicorn horn uncertainly. Understanding the importance of timing, Lorenzo quietly tapped his quill on the edge of her table, a subtle signal they had developed for moments like this.

Y/N looked over, catching his eye. Lorenzo gave a slight nod, glancing at the clock. She understood and added the powder just as the potion turned the right shade of blue. Lorenzo continued to help subtly, passing her a vial of powdered moonstone when she realized she was running low and mouthing a reminder about the temperature adjustment.

As the class ended, Professor Snape evaluated their potions. He paused at Y/N's cauldron, inspecting the brew with his usual critical eye. "Adequate," he muttered, a rare compliment from him.

Relieved, Y/N turned to Lorenzo as they packed up. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I was so nervous."

Lorenzo smiled, a warm, reassuring look in his eyes. "You had it. Just needed a bit of confidence."

Y/N couldn't help but smile back. His quiet support had been comforting, making her feel seen and valued.

The Herbology Lesson

Later, during a particularly tricky Herbology lesson, Y/N struggled with a difficult plant. Lorenzo, who had a surprising knack for Herbology, noticed her frustration and stayed behind after class.

"Need a hand?" he asked, offering a friendly smile.

Surprised, Y/N nodded. Lorenzo patiently guided her through the process, showing her the correct technique. Under his calm guidance, the plant responded, and Y/N felt a wave of relief and accomplishment.

"Thanks, Lorenzo," she said, grateful for his help.

He shrugged modestly. "Anytime. Can't let you struggle alone."

As the days passed, Y/N couldn't help but notice all the little things Lorenzo did for her. He'd save her a seat in the library, offer to carry her books when they were headed in the same direction, and even conjured a small bouquet of flowers during a particularly rough day. These small acts of kindness were so thoughtful and consistent that she found herself wondering why he was doing them. Was it just his nature, or was there something more?

The Astronomy Night

Knowing Y/N's love for the stars, Lorenzo planned a special surprise. One clear night, he invited her for a walk. They ended up at the Astronomy Tower, where he had set up a blanket and a small telescope.

As they lay under the stars, Lorenzo pointed out constellations and shared stories. His effort to create this moment touched Y/N deeply, revealing a thoughtful and caring side she had come to cherish.

"Lorenzo, this is wonderful," Y/N said, moved by his gesture. "Thank you."

He smiled, his eyes reflecting the starlight. "I wanted to do something special for you. You deserve it."

Y/N felt warmth spread through her. She hesitated, then asked the question that had been on her mind. "Why do you do all these things for me, Lorenzo?" she asked softly, turning to look at him directly. "You've been so kind and attentive... it's more than anyone's ever done for me."

Lorenzo paused, his expression thoughtful. He met her gaze, his eyes sincere. "Because you matter to me, Y/N," he began, his voice gentle but firm. "I've seen how kind and genuine you are, and I admire that. I wanted to show you that someone appreciates you for who you are, not just for what you do or what house you're in. And... because I care about you. A lot."

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "I know I'm not the best with words or grand gestures, but I believe in showing my feelings through actions. That's why I wanted to show you how much I care, in my own way. Whether it's helping you in Potions, making sure you have what you need, or just spending time together like this. It's all because I want you to know you're special to me."

Y/N's heart fluttered at his words. There was a sincerity in his voice that made her believe every word. She felt a mix of emotions—surprise, joy, and a deep warmth she couldn't quite describe.

She reached out, taking his hand. "I had no idea," she admitted, her voice soft. "But... I'm glad. I appreciate everything you've done. It means more than you know."

They sat there, hand in hand, under the vast night sky. Lorenzo's quiet, thoughtful actions had finally come to light, revealing the depth of his feelings. It wasn't about grand declarations or dramatic actions; it was about the little things that showed he genuinely cared. And in that moment, under the stars, Y/N realized just how much Lorenzo meant to her, too.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Hello! It's me againn and guess what 😈😈 Yes! I got another idea for Tom Riddle and m!reader 😋😋

Ekhem- so basically Tom was assigned to tutor this boy who was known for his lack of effort in class, he would sleep nor just ditched out the classes. So, as a nice Headboy he was, Tom decided to accept the task to tutor the boy and behold! The boy just sleeping the whole time Tom explain smth to him. So yeah Tom's mad n reader was like "Huh why r u mad? I don't even need tutor in the 1st place..." So Tom's gotten more mad 😔 and reader would like 🧍‍♂️

AHAHAHA n then as an apology, reader shows up to Tom after the exam ended n gave him his exam papers and oh boy this mf got O (Outstanding) for all the subjects, turns out the reader is able to do the school works from the beginning but he just won't do it bc he's a lazy ass bitch. Then Tom's reaction would be "🧍‍♂️...Yeah, i need those genes for my kids 😍"

THIS IS SO MESSY LMAO im sorry here's sum oranges for ur wonderful writing 🍊🍊🍊

Tutoring - T. R. x male!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much!! I love seeing you in my ask box! I hope this is what you were wanting 💛 Sorry about the ending lol. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to end it well.

I think I tagged everything, but let me know if I missed something! Fic is unedited with no use of Y/N

Anyway, have some hearts for sending me so many amazing requests! 💛💛💛💛

CW: Tom being fed up; anger; laziness; yelling; Tom gets fairly upset in this; somewhat mean words towards the reader; making up; brief compliment towards Tom; Abraxas and Tom are friends in this; Tom gets a little bit obsessed with reader; Tom’s evil plans

1144 words

It was a little known fact that Tom loved tutoring. For more selfish reasons than he’d care to admit, but he loved it all the same.

It was the rush of power he felt when a teacher came to him on behalf of yet another student. It was the pride when a student finally understood the material.

It was even the knowledge that Tom was smarter than most of the students at Hogwarts.

And yet, for all his love of tutoring, he was seriously debating quitting.

Why?

The answer was simple. You.

Tom had agreed to tutor you as a favor to Professor Slughorn. It wasn’t even for extra credit; a rare occasion of Tom being nice.

The professor was clearly fed up with you, and Tom was more than willing to take on a challenge.

And oh, what a challenge you were.

You were late to your first tutoring session, completely missed the second one, and slept through the third one.

You’d apologized, of course; but by the fourth tutoring session, it was clear you just didn’t have the motivation to study.

And it infuriated Tom.

He’d never failed as a tutor before, and he certainly wasn’t going to fail now.

When your eyes start to droop for the third time in ten minutes during your next study session, Tom’s patience runs out.

“Were you attending a party last night?” he demands, hands clenched. “What in Merlin’s name could have made you so tired?”

You startle, blearily lifting your head and rubbing at your eyes. “You think I’m cool enough to attend a party?”

It sounds like a genuine question, one Tom refuses to answer.

“What. Kept. You. Up?”

“My roommates.” You yawn and settle back into your seat. “They were having fun or something. Bein’ loud. Kept me up most of the night.”

Tom’s fists unclench. He takes a deep breath. “And do they do this every night?”

“Well… sort of…?” You fiddle with your quill. “Not every night, but…”

Tom pinches the bridge of his nose. “Talk to your Head of House about it. They’ll deal with your noisy roommates.”

“Alright.” You give him a small smile. Tom doesn’t return it.

“Now, for your potions essay…”

You slump in your seat.

But Tom counts it as a win when it takes you a few minutes longer than usual before your head starts drooping again.

You’re falling asleep yet again, and Tom has had it with you.

He slams the potions guide down on the table, startling you awake.

“Merlin, what the—“

“What—“ Tom seethes, “—is wrong with you?”

You blink, clearly taken aback. “Uhhh…”

“I have done my absolute best to ensure you don’t fail your exams next week, and you have done nothing but laze about and sleep!”

“Look, Riddle, just chill out.” You hold up your hands placatingly, giving him a weak smile. “I don’t get why you’re so upset. Professor Slughorn said you wanted to tutor me.”

“Well, not anymore! I am through with you!” Tom stands, fists clenched. “You have driven me to my wit’s end! If you’re not going to bother even trying to focus, I’m not going to bother trying to help you!”

“Hey—“

“I quit!” Tom snaps.

You stare at him, stunned. Then you cross your arms. “Well, fine! Merlin knows I never needed a tutor in the first place!”

Tom glares at you and angrily gathers his things.

It doesn’t feel good to quit. But he’s never felt so helpless before. You just simply seem to refuse to learn.

As he stalks away, though, there’s an odd pull at his heart. Maybe it was something about the unhappiness in your eyes. Or the way your fingers trembled as they gripped your quill.

Whatever it was, Tom squashes the feeling like a bug. He’s done with you. Not even a favor from Slughorn could tempt him to take you on again.

Of that, he is certain.

Tom’s sitting with Abraxas in the main hall, celebrating his exam scores. All Outstandings and Exceeds Expectations, even for Divination and Herbology.

He’s particularly proud of his O in Potions, proof that he knows the material well.

He’s just about to bite into a pumpkin pastry when there’s a soft cough behind him.

He turns, raising an eyebrow. It’s you, looking quite sheepish.

“Hey, Riddle.”

Tom purses his lips together thinly and crosses his arms. “Hello.”

You shuffle your feet and rub the back of your neck. “I know you were really mad at me,” you mumble, “But I wanted to explain myself a bit…”

“Then explain.”

You take a deep breath and pull a piece of paper from your pocket. It’s your report card for the exams.

Tom takes it, expecting to see some sort of dismal grade requiring his assistance.

But instead, what greets him is the best set of scores he’s ever seen. All Outstandings, in every class.

Tom stares at the report card, utterly baffled. “What?”

You rub the back of your neck again, not meeting his gaze. “I told you, I didn’t need a tutor. I can do the work. I just don’t like it.”

Tom slowly looks up from the report card. “You… just don’t like it…?”

You shrug. “Schoolwork’s boring. I’d rather do something else instead.”

Tom’s brain is a whirl. You were capable of doing the coursework already. More so, you knew everything well enough to get Outstandings in every class, something even he failed to do.

Tom hands you back your report card. “I owe you an apology then.”

“Nah,” you laugh softly and shuffle your feet. “Don’t worry about it. ‘Sides, you’re kinda cute all angry ‘n’ stuff.”

Tom blinks. You shrug and give him an awkward smile. “See you around, Riddle.”

“Right…” He watches as you walk away.

Then he turns quickly to Abraxas. “Malfoy, he had all Outstandings.”

Abraxas glances at him once, then does a double take. “Oh, no. I know that look. What are you planning?”

Tom grins. “Surely you see it? A brain that smart, when paired with my cunning? We’d be unstoppable.”

Abraxas glances at where you’d been standing. “Tom, I don’t know about this…”

But Tom’s mind is already at work. You already thought he was cute once… With the right sort of manipulation, perhaps he could get you to think it again.

Perhaps he could get you to fall in love with him.

“Just think about it, Malfoy. Our children would be geniuses!”

Abraxas just sighs. He shakes his head, but Tom ignores him. His plan is forming in his mind; his perfect plan to get you to fall in love with him.

With only a little bit of persuasion, he’ll get you to fall in love with him. And then you’ll be his lover forever. The other half to his genius.

And then all his plans will be perfected.

[nerdy-and-dedicated]

Come And Get Your Love (Roquill Fanfic)

So this came about after a conversation I had with my bestie @inubaki91. It does contain spoilers for GOTG3, so keep that in mind. Anyway, I hope you like it.

Rating: Teen

Peter sat on the roof, staring up at the night sky. He found himself doing this a lot lately, hoping that a certain someone would land in the yard. Each time Quill would wait until one in the morning and be met with the same disappointment. The man understood that his super hot boyfriend was busy saving the galaxy but still wished he had found the time to visit. It was approaching eleven, and Peter considered calling it an early night. Rocket hadn’t shown up for the past two months, so why should this time be any different? Still, Peter waited, despite his gut telling him it was pointless. Quill remained for two more hours before making his way down the ladder. After putting it away, he headed back towards the house and saw the most heavenly sight. Leaning against the sliding backdoor was his boyfriend dressed in his guardians’ uniform. The man couldn’t contain himself as he ran up to Rocket and scooped him up in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, Peter kissed the raccoon deeply. When they pulled away, Quill rested their foreheads together and smiled.

  “Take it you missed me, Baby Boo?”

 “You have no idea.”

 “I’m sorry. I wanted to visit sooner, but our latest assignment was a pain in the ass.”

 “I get it, Rocky. It just means you have to make it up to me.” Pete flirted.

 “Oh~ And how can I do that?”

  Peter just smirked as he carried his fluffy raccoon to his room. He closed the door before laying Rocket down on the bed. He leaned over him and passionately kissed his boyfriend. Quill wanted to take this lovingly slow as he didn’t know when Rocket would return. Despite how impatient he knew the raccoon could be, the man wanted to savour the moment. Peter moaned softly, feeling Rocket claw at his scalp and grind against him. The man looked down at his boyfriend and smiled wider. The racoon looked so adorable underneath him. He honestly couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Rocket in his life. Peter never thought he would experience this kind of happiness, especially after Gamora. Yet here he was, making out with the most amazing person ever. Rocket was there for him during his darkest moment and cared for him during so many drunken nights. He really didn’t deserve him.

  “Petey, you’re staring again.” Rocket moaned.

 “Can’t help it. You’re just that handsome.”

 “If you think I’m that handsome, why don’t you hurry up and fuck me?”

 Peter gave Rocket a quick kiss. “With pleasure.”

 🦝💕🌟

 To say Peter was sore would be a bit of an understatement. While it was definitely the good kind, he had to remind Rocket to file down his claws for next time. Quill didn’t need to see his back to know what kind of state it was in. The man honestly forgot how wild the raccoon could get in bed and was surprised they didn’t wake his grandpa from the amount of noise they made. The man turned to the sleeping Rocket and watched him for a few minutes. It was honestly nice to see the raccoon so peaceful and relaxed. Peter stroked his boyfriend’s cheek and kissed his forehead before collecting his pyjamas and showering. After getting cleaned up, Pete examined the damage done to him. As suspected, his upper back was covered in scratches, with his shoulders and neck littered with bites and hickeys. Getting dressed in his clothes, Pete hoped that his grandpa didn’t notice the state of his exposed skin. He headed towards the kitchen and was greeted by said man in the small dining area. Jason had already gotten out all he needed for his usual breakfast.

  “Mornin’ Pete. Sleep well?”

 “I guess so….”

 “Another late night?”

 Peter nodded as he sat down and poured himself a bowl of Corn Pops.

 “I know you’re a grown man, but please try to go to bed earlier. I don’t like seein’ the bags under your eyes.”

 “I’ll try, but no guarantees.”

  Peter appreciated his grandpa’s concern for his well-being, but it was necessary. The man had more pressing matters to worry about, especially with his old age. Still, it was great that he cared. The two men sat in comfortable silence for a bit, just enjoying each other presence. Quill took a few bites of his cereal before Jason spoke.

  “Shirley from next door wants to know if you can mow her lawn today.”

 “I can, but why can’t Michael do it?”

 “Don’t know, didn’t ask.”

 “I mean, if she needs help mowing her lawn, I’ll do it, but I kinda feel like her son should help.”

 “Don’t get me started, okay?”

 Peter put another spoonful in his mouth. “Well, now I kinda want to know…”

 “Know about what, Baby Boo?”

  Quill froze as he watched his boyfriend climb onto the third chair and steal his breakfast. Rocket was dressed in nothing but Peter’s grey T-shirt. Well, it was more like a nightgown than a shirt on the raccoon, but still adorable regardless. When his brain started working again, he turned towards his grandpa, who was just staring at the anthropomorphic animal across from him.

 “Take a picture. It’ll last longer, old man.”

 “Rocket, be nice.”

 “Hard to be when it’s morning and your cereal sucks.”

 “There’s a trash can outside if you’d prefer that,” Jason mumbled.

 “Sorry, the only trash I like to eat is your grandson.”

 “Oh my god, Rocket!!” Peter exclaimed. “Stop!!”

  Quill really didn’t want to have this kind of conversation so early in the morning. Or in front of his grandfather. Yet the old man had remained entirely calm throughout the whole interaction. At least it seemed that way when Jason folded his paper and left the table. Peter thought that was the end of it until he heard his grandfather call out from the living room.

  “Just make sure the sheet are clean by midday. I don’t want this house smelling like sex.”

 “You heard us?”

 “Pete, the whole neighbourhood heard you. I just wished you had introduced me to your weird boyfriend before I did.”

 The younger man chuckled nervously. “We were trying to be quiet.”

 “Didn’t sound like it,” Jason stated.

 Rocket started laughing.

 “Next time, we’re doing it on the ship.”

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Clickbait tag game

Thanks @drchenquill and @the-letterbox-archives ! I don't actually watch YouTube so I hope I understood the assignment properly :')

Rules: explain the plot/premise of your wip/s as if it were a clickbait (or just a regular one if you don't want to do clickbait) youtube video

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl:

My teacher is secretly a vampire?!??! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

A Tale For A Mouse:

NEVER BEFORE SEEN FOOTAGE OF EVIL GOD DOING STORYTELLING 😱😱

Convenience Store Vampire:

WE FOUND A CORPSE OUTSIDE OUR SHOP (YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT)

Mind of a Mercenary:

UNBELIEVABLE: Cult Leader Gets Forced to Save The World?!

Tagging @mywipsdontend, @just-emis-blog, @kitty-is-writing, @honeybewrites, @orions-quill and open tag!

[i-drew-a-dog]

More Doctor Who confusion I guess

There's a lot in the last few episodes of Doctor Who that I don't really get?

The dust? Everyone gets dusted in 2024. They go to 2046 everyone is STILL dusted but now there's DNA data. How did they gather the DNA if everyone was killed in 2024??? Did Sutek dust everyone simultaneously?? Like all throughout time?? What???

The time window? We are told it's rudimentary and they "only saw the colour of the quill that signed the declaration of independence" but it's monochrome? You didn't see the colour of it?? Also it's all holograms and yet they treat it as if it's real? Why do they have guns?? Why is everyone afraid?

The snow? Why does Ruby have this power? I know we've established that her mum is some Eldrich being through the power of believing in her or some shit but why can Ruby do that? Also can every foster kid do that? If so that's really funny.

Suteks death? Why did dragging him around behind the TARDIS and smashing him into space potholes like some mafia hit kill him when literally sending him through time to the moment of his death didn't work?

Idk if these are pointless questions but the writing recently has just been overall baffling to me. Out of this whole season, I think the only episode I genuinely enjoyed was Rogue because it was just taking the piss out of Bridgerton the style of that big brother episode back in 2004. It was fun and understood the assignment of a silly villain that still posed a threat.

I know the vibe in the fandom is always "the worst Dr who writer is the current Dr who writer" but I haven't really enjoyed this season as much as I thought I would when they announced Russel was coming back.

Rewatching Bad Wolf is just a slap in the face after this like what happened??

Sorry for the rambles but idk I just have a lot of thoughts about this season but the fandom seems to be in the "look at all the references to old who" phase

[zonatcannibalism]

There is not a single cisgender character in this podcast. Good job rusty quill giving the fans what they want 10/10 you understood the assignment

[thenexusofsouls]

(They finally picked their costumes! How many horror references can you spot?)

The Guardians were taking Halloween very seriously, not only because Star-Lord was from Earth, but also because Tony Stark had invited them all to his Halloween party after becoming friends and baking with Mantis.

The fact that there was life on other planets wasn't exactly news to the people of Earth by that point, but even if that were the case, no one would've glanced twice at the Guardians that night... though Rocket could be an exception.

They had made their research and it was clear from their costumes that they understood the assignment, as some would say.

Quill had somehow attached a pillow to the back of his head, a fake arm extending from underneath it with the palm resting on his forehead. A fake arrow was protruding from his throat, fake blood dripping onto his green tank top and his jeans.

Gamora was wearing a bright red wig in an updo, a red dress and cape, and a sash with the words 'Miss Argentina' written on it.

Drax was wearing blue coveralls and a white mask with hair. Even though Quill had told him that a single knife was what he needed to complete the costume, Drax still carried his two Kylosian knives.

Groot, who was still a baby, was wearing an orange footie pajamas and a burlap sack over his head, though he had also filled it with air so it would appear round. He needed to see, so two holes revealed his round eyes, and a smaller cut around his mouth allowed him to eat all the candy he could get. In his hand he held a lollipop that looked like a Jack-o-lantern.

Mantis' antennae had disappeared underneath a black, long, straight wig with a white streak at the front, wearing a pale pink dress that practically looked white, the fabric shaped like bat wing sleeves. Even though she couldn't change the way her eyes looked, her costume was still recognizable, and Mantis had done her makeup to resemble the character.

Rocket wasn't wearing a costume. Maybe most Terrans would've thought his usual appearance was his costume, but everyone at Tony's party knew what Rocket looked like. When someone at the party asked him where his costume was, Rocket's reply was offered rather nonchalantly.

"This is my costume. I'm a homicidal maniac. They look just like everyone else." Rocket knew he didn't look like everyone else at the party, but at least the comment implied that he wasn't feeling like an outsider. It was hard to do so around his friends... well, fine, and because Tony's party was great, whatever.

The place was brimming with life, and in the crowd, Mantis spotted Tony Stark. Quill instantly recognized that Tony was dressed as Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka. He didn't recognize Natasha's costume, though, since he was already in space when Hocus Pocus came out, but he still thought her costume looked spooky and fun.

"Tony!" Mantis called out to him, waving her hand. Grabbing the skirt of her dress, she ran up to Tony and threw her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you so much for inviting us!" Mantis chirped before releasing Tony from the hug. She beamed at him. "We are thrilled to be here. Oh, you look great!"

Tony wasn't sure if the Guardians would actually attend his Halloween party, not because he thought they didn't want to, but because at any given time they could be really freaking far away from Earth. The logistics of them attending might not be the greatest to work out. He invited them anyway, nonetheless, because Halloween parties were supposed to be fun, chaotic, and silly, so... the more the merrier!

But when they actually did show up, it really made Tony happy. With all the danger, bullshit, and downright trauma that teams like his and the Guardians' dealt with in the name of fighting the good fight, anytime he could contribute to helping people cut loose and have a good time, it made Tony feel really good about himself.

"Eyyyyy! You guys made it!" Tony exclaimed, his grin only growing in size as Mantis hugged him. The party was already hopping, with music and refreshments and everyone in all manner of wacky, scary, and pretty costumes. He was dressed head to toe in Wonka's iconic purple suit, green bow, and brown top hat, and he even had a wig on under the hat to look like Wilder's puffy, curly hair. He was carrying a cane and waving it around like the master of ceremonies he was. "You're very welcome, I'm equally thrilled you could come."

"Come, revel, enjoy. The food is that way," he said, twirling his cane to point in the direction of a buffet, "the bar is that way," he twirled his cane to point in another direction, "dance floor's that way," another twirl and point, "and please, take all the candy you want." With that, he grabbed a nearby bowl of candy, one of many placed around the party hall, and held it out to the Guardians.

"You guys look great," Tony said, looking at each of them in turn. When he got to Rocket, he went on what little he knew of his personality and tried to figure out his "costume." His hand found his chin. "Lemme guess... Serial killer, because they look just like everyday people. Yeah?"

[snapeaddict]

Dearest friend

It was late, but not as late as it was when she usually looked up from her desk to notice how many hours had passed since she had started grading papers. The clock had not even struck half-past ten, she gave it a perplexed look, trying to understand why she felt as if she had just been pulled out of her routine despite sitting alone and undisturbed in the silence of her living room. Perhaps it was the silence itself; she had always graded her papers in the staff room on Saturday nights, and students, ghosts and paintings formed a familiar, soothing jabber she was used to hearing there. There was nothing like that in her tower, which she used to enjoy very much; but now, alone with the ticking of her clock, she found herself longing for that never-ending chatter. It was why she had deserted the staff room. Now, no matter the hour, no matter how many children were roaming the corridors, all was always terribly silent, and that silence was only ever broken by the consistent ringing of the bell and military-like footsteps. This sounded nothing like Hogwarts; she felt alienated. It was like looking at a beloved, familiar face and seeing nothing but foreign traits, being unable to understand why and how the muscles of that face moved, to decipher any kind of feeling behind the once friendly eyes – to see nothing at all. 

No need for metaphors. Severus carried out the task very well: he personified that silence with formidable charisma.

She looked down at her papers again. She had been grading them inattentively, with the kind of automatic skills that years of practice and a recurring lesson within the curriculum could afford a teacher – thank Merlin for small mercies. However, the paragraph she was now reading, written in shaky handwriting by a first-year student who clearly had not used many quills in the past, was absolutely mind-boggling. She could not quite pinpoint what had been going on in that boy’s brain, most likely he hadn’t had the time to proofread his essay, but that spelling mistake was unfortunate, especially in that context, and it was only because he was a first-year that she was ready to believe it was an innocent error. 

So she understood. That was why everything had felt so out of place all of a sudden: this right here was funny, and a part of her must have felt like laughing, but that too felt foreign, so here she was, wondering what was wrong. And it was as simple as that. Something was triggering a long-forgotten instinct, that of laughing, and she could not entirely process it, because she usually shared the funny student mistakes with someone. And they laughed about it together, in the staff room, on Saturday nights.

She felt that the stream of her thoughts was about to continue. She feared what reason would tell her; she precipitately took out her wand, duplicated the essay, put it aside, sat down again, went on to the next paper. At the end of the school year, there was a good chunk of assignments on that pile – all hilarious or terrible mistakes, answers and witty remarks from her students. That pile of papers only existed for those moments of timeless nostalgia she desperately needed to indulge in, and she kept on adding to it, arranging it in a neat stack, hiding it in one of her drawers. She could never open it without feeling the simultaneous burn of shame, guilt, anger, and past friendship.

-

There was a thin line between demonstrations of power and vulnerability. If you gave the impression that you were never around, if people started thinking perhaps all power had been relegated to your right hands, then you and the entire fragile ecosystem you were the centre of would be targeted by reinvigorated rebels; if, on the contrary, you were seen too often, you would become just as much of a target, and risk exposure. Severus was not meant to lead – in fact, his whole life had been spent creating a persona that could fake an innate sense of authority with simple but masterly use of demeanour and voice. Suddenly all that careful work fell into pieces, and he was thrown into a new system of hierarchy on whose preservation countless lives, and the outcome of the war, depended. There would be no use in trying to depict the mental state of the newly appointed headmaster; the dichotomy between inner and outer selves was such that doing so would certainly spark a literary debate on the theme of vraisemblance. Severus thus proceeded as he usually did in times of crisis, shutting down all emotions, putting on a familiar mask of indifference, scheduling his appearances in the corridors and Great Hall with care and repressed anxiety. His face became accustomed to the tension; it grew around his facial muscles as quickly as warm water freezes in the cold of winter.

Strangely, it was not the moments of intense pressure and unspeakable horrors that had, more than once, endangered his carefully crafted composure. It was, in fact, his rounds in the corridors: he sometimes crossed paths with unfortunate students who, because he was especially skilled at moving quietly, never heard him coming. There were a few seconds during which they kept on talking – even in situations of crisis, teenagers can be insouciant, if only to cope with reality. Thus Severus found himself interrupting many a conversation which were not of the highest intellectual standard. Many times he felt the shadow of an ironic smile on his lips, the taste of a sarcastic remark on his tongue: these were always followed by a vertiginous sense of estrangement from everything that surrounded him. By this time the students had spotted him and deserted the place, or they were waiting, terror-stricken, wondering what would come next. There Severus would have to compose himself, and the effort drained him in a way he could never fully explain. Often, when the students had left, he felt the urge to look over his shoulder, ready to mock the conversation he had overhead once more; then he was very still; and, finally, painfully, he kept on walking.

So he kept a list. It was cathartic, and he enjoyed the puzzled look on Albus’ painted face when he responded to him that this was a ‘private matter’. Very neatly, in the manner of the Domesday book, which is to say in a very organized fashion, he wrote down the silliest bits of conversations and remarks from students, sometimes adding comments in the margin such as ‘typical’, ‘6 years of education wasted. Glad I am not the one having to meet them for their orientation session’ or the occasional ‘colourful. To keep on hand in case of a meeting with the minister.’ In contrast to every other aspect of his life, from material matters to the most existential ones, he did not plan what to do with this parchment; he filled it carefree; it sat in one of his desk’s drawers that May evening.

It only left its place to be covered in remorseful tears, but the pile of essays in Minerva’s drawer remained desperately still.

[thomasisaslut]

Amorentia || Severus Snape x F!Hufflepuff Reader

Chapter Four || Prey

Word Count: 1393

Includes: Masturbation

The next morning you wake up dizzy and confused, when standing you tumble over. Instantly Cedric runs over to your side of the dorm and helps you up.

"[First Name]? What happened?" He gazes over your body checking for some kind of injury, yet, he can't see under your night robes where the stitches are.

"I'm fine, Cedric, thank you." You say then try to pry his hands off your shoulder but fail.

"You don seem fine. You just fell over!" Cedric exclaims.

"I am fine." You snap, his hands fall from your shoulder blades.

"Alright, just be careful, yeah?" He asks and you can see the concern on his face.

You nod then pick up your bag to leave for class, that is when you got an owl. You recognize it as Professor Snape's owl so you take the letter from the birds talons and read it.

'Ms. [Last Name], you missed your class yesterday afternoon so I would like you to come now to make it up. -S.S'

The letter made it very apparent that he needed you to appear almost instantly, you sigh at the letter then grab you bag and leave the Hufflepuff dorms for his classroom.

Eventually you reach the room in the dungeons, it's a long walk from the high tower that holds the Hufflepuff's but since the hallways aren't as crowded as they usually are you were able to make it there in just under 7 minutes.

You know on the door then open it.

"Professor? I got your letter." You say as you enter the room. Instantly his eyes connect with yours, his dark and emotionless eyes staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sit." He motions to the chair you were in when you got the stitches just days ago.

You obey his command instantly as you sit on the other side of his desk, he then hands you the paper that you missed yesterday.

"Notes on the Anti-Paralysis potion the class brewed, write how you made it and what was used." He instructs.

You nod then begin to write on the parchment he gave you, now the only sounds in the room was the occasional sound of the rain outside and the scratch of your quill connected with the ink jar then paper.

Around 20 minutes later you've completed the small assignment and you pass it back to him.

"I'm done, Professor."

He nods and takes the paper, his eyes quickly scans over the words before he nods approvingly.

"Outstanding once again, Ms. [Last Name]." He states then uses a quill to mark the paper.

You instantly smile then feel the sudden rush of desire again, you can't help but push your thighs together tightly to surpress the feeling. In the process your skirt flares up and you swear he saw your black laced underwear.

"I knew it was right to put you in the double excelled class." He says, his gaze completely hyper focused on the paper you submitted to him. You can't help but notice a bit of pink tinting his cheeks. He clears his throat then speaks again.

"Would you like to get started on your classwork for later today?"

"To get ahead of everyone, sir?" You blurt out.

His face deadpans but nods, "If that's how you wish to phrase it, Ms. [Last Name]."

"Oh! Yes, I would then.. sir.." You smile weakly.

He nods then opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a piece of the paper and hands it to you.

"Were learning about the wolfsbane potion for the double advanced class. Start it now, you have 20 minutes before you have to leave, understood?"

You begin the work and through the work you can't help but to glance up at Professor Severus Snape—ever since you realized what the potion has done you've been wanting to be closer and closer to him. And now is just perfect. You're alone with him in his classroom.

You lock eyes with him for a slim second, you instantly feel the wetness rush back to your core again, you squirm slightly in the seat across from him, pushing your thighs together again. You continue to work on the piece of parchment before you in an attempt to distract yourself when he speaks.

"20 minutes are up, Ms. [Last Name]." He says, his voice making you snap out of your distracting thoughts.

"Would you like me to hold onto the paper for you?"

You nod then hand him the paper, when he reaches for it your hands brush for a slim second. You flush then quickly turn your heel.

"I'll see you later, Professor." You mumble as you leave the room, you swear he didn't hear you but when you look back you see his eyes following you as you exit.

Once you're out of the room you realize it's still early in the morning—around 6am. You still have around 30 minutes before your first class starts. So, of course you decide to run to the same bathroom as you did the day prior.

Rushing to the last stall again you check the stalls—making sure no one else was there you grin successfully as you do. Once you lock the stall door you place your bag on the small hook on the door then take out your wand. Once the wand is out you use a quick spell on the toilet paper, transferring it into a black vibrator. It had a smaller part that rubs against your clit, the larger side that slides deep into your folds. You grin widely, the wetness that had been building up since you saw him—the absolute pressure that has been building since then needs to release. You grab another role from the toilet paper holder and transfigure it into a small lube bottle, you quickly uncap the bottle then pour some onto your hand, lathering it on the toy your smirk grows, the anticipation brewing deep within you. Throwing your laced panties down a cold gush of wind flows through your folds, it makes you whimper. Sliding the toy into your tight heat you let out a loud moan. Clicking the small button on the end of the toy it begins to move, sending waves of pleasure ringing throughout your entire body, moans practically flood out of your mouth as you increase the speed on the vibrator. Your thighs and legs quiver as you continue to stand whilst the toy rubs against you fast, throwing your hands to the side of the stall walls to support yourself your thighs shake. You look around in a sex-haze for another object you can transfigure to truly satisfy yourself. Your eyes land on an empty roll of toilet paper, you shrug then use your wand to transform it into nipple clamps connected by a chain.

Quickly you clamp the toy to your hard nubs and moan.

"Severus!" You shout as you release in your panties. The vibrator keeps moving, overstimulating your used clit. You tighten the clamps around your nipples as you push the vibrator to the maximum speed, desperate to cum again.

As you moan you finally sit back down on the toilet, your legs quaking as you feel the sensation building in your core again. With the very thought of your teacher you squirt again, your liquids starts flooding down your shaking thighs. Your moans ring throughout the stall, filling your ears with the sounds of your squelching cunt and whimpers.

"O-Oh god!" You shout as the feeling of the vibrator makes you feel more pleasure, quickly you push the toy deeper into your tight pussy, moaning louder than before.

Finally you finish for a third time, unclasping the nipple clamps you grunt, they're still hard. You slide the vibrator out of your folds then use a spell to return it back to the toilet paper it was before, you do the same with the lube bottle and clamps before cleaning yourself with a flick of your wand.

Glancing at the watch on your arm you see you've skipped your first class of the day! You've never missed a class before, let alone for something like masturbating to your teacher. Quickly you leave the stall and begin to run to your next class—Ancient Runes.

Chapter Five:

[amberlynnmurdock]

New Love, New Haven

Chapter Fourteen: The First Time

Pairing: Benjamin Tallmadge x Original Female Character

Summary: Upon realizing Ben's letter never got to Sadie, he pays her a visit before Thanksgiving break.

A/N: WOW it's been too long since I've updated this fic! I love writing this fic so much, I haven't forgotten it <3 next chapter will have a huge time jump! Thank you for reading!! <3

WARNINGS: 18+ content, smut, losing virginity, eating out

Wethersfield 1773 

Ben sat patiently at the large wooden desk in his classroom, waiting for his students to arrive. Sometimes a student or two came early but most of the time they walked in late. Ben wasn’t hard on them—he remembers very fondly arriving late to class with Nathan and feeling the glares from his professors. He didn’t want his students to feel the way he did. He wanted them to feel welcomed. He didn’t want them to feel defined by tardiness. And he especially didn’t want to rush any of his lessons.

It was a brisk fall day. Leaves were starting to fall. Today was the last day of the semester, and next week he’d be leaving for Thanksgiving. He organized today’s assignment and wrote on the chalkboard. Friday, November 19th, 1773. Today’s lesson: Latin. As Ben finished writing on the board, he smiled to himself. Latin. A memory flashed in his mind: the very first night he met Sadie and she spoke Latin to him: nemo saltat sobrius. He chuckled softly, played with the piece of chalk in his hand. He missed her. 

And upon realization, Ben’s gaze fell—it had been a while since he heard from Sadie. Concern settled over him, until the door to his classroom opened abruptly, and in came one of his students, named Joel. 

“Good morning, Mr. Joel. How are we today?” Ben clapped his hands together and looked at the young boy. Joel straightened in his chair and brought out a book from his bag. 

“Ready for today’s lesson, Mistah Tallmadge,” Joel’s high-pitched voice spoke. He placed his hands on top of his book. 

“Very well,” Ben smiled, holding his hands behind his back. More students trickled in, each finding their respective seats. Ben waited as each of them settled down and brought their books out. Each desk was lined with a pot of ink and a quill. When everyone was finally settled, Ben cleared his throat. 

“How many of you are familiar with the Latin language?” Ben proposed to the class, hands behind his back. He paced back and forth slowly, waiting for a lucky duck to raise his hand. 

A small boy in the back of the classroom raised his hand. It was Charles. He had tousled brown hair and freckles on his cheeks. 

“Yes, Charles,” Ben encouraged him as he walked down the aisle to Charles’ desk. Charles cleared his throat and sat up more straight in his chair.

“Isn’t it a dead language, Mistah Tallmadge?” Charles asked. 

“It is, but it’s not dead if we bring it to life by speaking it!” Ben exclaimed, looking at the other young men in the class. “It’s quite a beautiful language if you take the time to study it.”

“Is it goin’ to be hard, Mistah Tallmadge?” Another boy asked, named Daniel. 

“No,” Ben smiled as he made his way back to the front of the class. “Not if you take your notes and pay attention.” 

Some boys dipped their quills in the ink, while others groaned in despair. Ben laughed at the mixed reactions. It wasn’t easy teaching young boys but it sure was worth it. He made sure by the end of each lesson everyone understood what was taught and left with a better attitude than when they came into class. 

Of course, his lesson plan today reminded him of Sadie. When he recited the verb forms and wrote them on the chalkboard, it was hard to ignore the pull on his heart. Another moment of realization slowly dawned on Ben at that moment—when was the last time he received a letter from Sadie? Well, he couldn’t ponder on that too long right now. He’d have to wait until the end of the day. 

“Amo, amat, amos,” Ben recited aloud. The boys repeated after him in tandem. And despite carrying on with the lesson, he was anxious to get home and check the post. 

When class ended, Ben wished them all a wonderful holiday. Normally, he’d stay and talk to them before closing up for the day, but even they were in a rush to enjoy the break. Ben quickly packed up his things and headed home. 

☆☆☆☆

He walked home after school ended. Satchel on his shoulder, tricorn on his head. He tipped his hat whenever he passed by a local town person to greet them. Horses trodded by him in their carriages. With each step, a sinking feeling grew deeper in Ben’s chest. 

When he arrived at his small abode, he checked the post box immediately. 

Nothing. 

Ben furrowed his brows at the empty box and shut it. How much time had passed since his last letter? About a couple of weeks? 

Entering his home, Ben locked the door and placed his brown leather satchel on a chair. He threw his tricorn on his bed and ran his hand through his golden brown hair, exasperated. His mind was racing—was Sadie okay? Did something happen in New Haven? Surely, he'd hear about it if it had to do with any redcoats. 

To distract himself from his worry, Ben started a fire in his fireplace to warm his home a little. The closer it got to the end of November, the colder it was getting. At least, that meant he could go on holiday and visit Sadie, before trekking up to Setauket. It would be a short visit in New Haven, but a necessary one. 

Ben sat in front of the fireplace for a few more moments, staring at the yellow and orange flames as they warmed his face. It was moments like this when he realized how alone and far away he was from everyone he loved. 

Perhaps instead of worrying, he could get a head start on grading papers. Yes, he’ll do that, he thought. He lit a candle and placed it on his desk. He reached into his satchel and brought out all the papers stuffed inside. Ben spread them out. He flipped through the pages and organized them by subject. And then, something fell into his lap.

“Hm?” Ben hummed aloud. 

Oh, dear. 

It was a thick envelope, with a red wax seal. This was the last letter he was supposed to send to Sadie! 

Ben pushed himself out of his chair and ran outside. It was nearly evening—there wouldn’t be anyone to collect the mail until tomorrow morning. Then Ben clutched the letter to his chest in realization: on Saturdays, Wethersfield didn’t collect mail. He’d have to go into town and physically drop it in the general store for it to be mailed out on Monday. Even more of a delay! Christ, Tallmadge. No wonder you haven’t heard from Sadie! 

But why wait for the postage when Ben could just head back to New Haven now, instead of waiting until Monday?It didn’t take him long to finalize his decision. He’d be on his way to New Haven at the crack of dawn and deliver his letter to Sadie himself. 

☆☆☆☆

Sunday

Sadie walked down the cobblestone path, basket in her arm. It was finally cold enough for her to bring out her favorite velvet cloak. She threw the hood over her head and continued to walk down the road, smiling at anyone who walked by: a mother and her child, an old man waiting for a customer in front of his steps, two young boys running around, wreaking havoc. Many faces passed her by, and none of them were who she wanted to see. 

Her first stop was the market. She needed to stock up on apples and cheese for the bar guests—and then some for her to sneak for herself. The bell chimed in the doorway and she was greeted by Mack, the old man who ran the shop.

“Hello, Sadies,” Mack greeted. He always added an “s” at the end of her name. He trotted from behind the counter and leaned on his elbow. “How’s your father?” 

“He’s good, Mack,” Sadie smiled, taking the cloth off her basket. “Says you’re due for a pint of ale.”

Mack laughed, “I don’t drink like I used to.” 

“He can do a soft pour,” Sadie chided. 

“Maybe sometime this week.” He said this every time but never came by. Sadie smiled warmly at the older man. 

“I’m here for—“

“Apples and cheese, I know, I’ve got it ready,” Mack held a finger up in the air as he spoke and rounded the corner again, bringing a fresh basket from behind the counter. Sadie carefully picked the apples with the cloth from her basket. Mack had the cheese already wrapped. 

“Thank you very much, Mack,” Sadie smiled. 

“Where are you off to next?” 

A pang hit Sadie’s heart. “The tavern I suppose. I’ve got to do some cleaning before the holiday week.” 

“Your brother will be back this week, right?” Mack inquired. At the mention of Nathan, Sadie’s chest suddenly felt lighter. 

“Yes,” Sadie smiled, “of course.” 

“When?”

“Monday,” Sadie answered, “he’ll be home for a week. After that, a shorter term begins and he won’t be home until the long break again.” 

“Ahh,” Mack said, “busy boy he is. I’m sure he’s loving being a teacher.” 

“He definitely is,” Sadie smiled. She couldn’t wait to hear his stories when he came back. She knew of some of his experience from his letters, but knowing Nathan, he loved to save the details for in person. 

After Sadie gave Mack a few coins for the food she picked up, she was on her way back to the tavern. Hood over her head, she walked slowly down the path, counting her steps. She heard the normal hustle of the town around her, but Sadie paid no mind to it. She focused her gaze on the cobblestone, wishing this sinking feeling would just go away already. The lack of communication between her and Ben was taking a toll on her, and she wondered if he received her most recent letter, the one in which she told him about her plans for the Spring with Genny. 

Sadie pushed her hood off her head when she approached the tavern. It was a sunny morning—very bright for a rather autumnal Sunday in November. When the sun warmed Sadie’s face, she squinted her eyes at the brightness and nearly missed the figure that stood at the corner of the Tavern with a familiar-looking horse. 

She nearly dropped her basket on the cold hard ground when she realized who was waiting at the corner. 

Benjamin.

“Oh my,” Sadie whispered, her heart in her throat, “B-Ben—what—“ All the words she wanted to say left her at that moment as Ben, it really was him, finished tying his horse, Willow, to the pillar and made his way to Sadie. 

And perhaps it was a bit forward, or inappropriate, but Ben didn’t care—he stalked his way over to Sadie and placed his hands on either side of her face, and slowly leaned down to give Sadie the longest and warmest kiss he could. He shut his eyes tight as his lips began to remember the feeling of hers on his, a comforting, familiar feeling that he’d been so deprived of. Sadie reached up to touch his face and deepened the kiss, running her fingers over his skin, as if the movement said Is it really you, here? This is real? 

When Ben pulled back, he was breathing hard, but he locked his blue eyes with Sadie’s warm ones. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Sadie, I’m so sorry.” 

“I thought you forgot about me,” Sadie smiled, despite herself. She blinked away tears and Ben looked at her as if she just accused him of a terrible crime.

“Forget about you? Sadie, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left this town,” Ben now was holding both of Sadie’s hands, caressing her knuckles with his thumbs. “I’m a bloody idiot and mixed the letter I wrote for you weeks ago with my students’ papers.”

“Oh,” Sadie said, her worries washing away instantly. “Oh, Ben, I can’t believe I jumped to conclusions so quickly,” Sadie closed her eyes and scrunched her brows in frustration, thinking of how sad she was when she didn’t receive any letters from Ben.

“It’s okay,” Ben hushed and kissed her forehead. “When I saw I still had my letter, I knew I had to get it to you sooner than later. I left Wethersfield yesterday morning.”

“How long will you be in New Haven for?” 

“Just tonight, I’m afraid,” Ben smiled sadly, “I have to go back to Setauket for Thanksgiving.”

“Right,” Sadie nodded, “of course. Well, I’m so happy you’re here now, Ben. It’s been so long.”

“I know, my Sadie,” Ben whispered and pulled Sadie in for another embrace. When he pulled back, he met Sadie’s eyes with concern. “I was hoping you’d be able to have me tonight.”

“Of course,” she said without a second thought. “Come to the back door, at night. Like old times.”

Ben smiled and wiped a tear from Sadie’s cheek. “I’ll be there.”

☆☆☆☆

All day, Sadie anticipated the tavern to close early so she could prepare to see Ben tonight. Even though people knew of their relationship, it was still funny they had to sneak around to see each other.

Sadie looked at herself in her small mirror in her room. She took down her hair from her bun and let it fall to one side. Her white shift dress was buttoned to the top, but Sadie decided to undo a few of the buttons so some more skin peeked through. When she heard tiny pebbles hit her window, Sadie knew Ben arrived. 

After sneaking him in from the back door and quietly tip-toeing up the stairs, so as to not wake Richard, Ben was finally in Sadie’s room again. She shut the door quietly and locked it. When she turned around, Ben had his arms open for her. She squealed softly and walked into his strong arms. He wrapped them around her frame, picked her up, and squeezed her before gently putting her down again. Ben buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed in her sweet scent. 

“Christ, I’ve missed you,” Ben breathed. “So much, Sadie.”

“I missed you more,” Sadie smiled.

“Impossible.”

She took his hand and gestured for him to sit on her bed. Sadie didn’t even know what to say, but the look on Ben’s face told her he had something to say first. He smiled, a bit embarrassingly, and felt for something in his pocket. When he pulled out an envelope with a red waxed seal, Sadie looked confused. 

“This is the letter that got mixed up in my papers. You should have received it if not for my misplacement,” Ben put the crinkled letter in Sadie’s palm. 

“Do you want me to read it?” Sadie asked, already tearing open the wax seal. Ben laughed, nodded his head to gently urge her. 

“Of course,” Ben whispered. “But I can’t look at you as you read it.” 

“Why not?” Sadie said amused. 

“It’s different when you’re in the same room as the person you wrote the letter for,” Ben chuckled. 

“Oh, please, Ben,” Sadie hushed, “you’ve seen me nearly naked and you’re a little embarrassed by a letter you wrote me?” 

“If it’s the letter I remember, then yes,” Ben blushed. Without prying further, Sadie took a moment to read it by candlelight. Contrary to what Ben said before, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Sadie as she read. 

It was about a dream Ben had about Sadie, by the beach and a constellation he hadn’t seen before. It was adorable—romantic, and adorable. Sadie tried not to giggle but couldn’t help it. 

“You think I’m silly, don’t you?” Ben asked. Sadie shook her head and placed the letter on her nightstand. When she looked at Ben again, she took his hands in hers and squeezed them.

“Not at all, Ben,” Sadie assured him. “I thought that was very sweet. Imagine, a constellation named after me?”

Ben laughed, “It would surely be the most beautiful constellation in the sky.”

“Now that was silly,” Sadie playfully teased. Ben digressed and kissed Sadie’s knuckles.

“Sadie, how are you? Really?” He asked. “It’s been a few months since I’ve seen you. There’s so much to catch each other up on.”

“I know,” she agreed and took a deep breath. Since Ben was here early, it was possible he hadn’t received her last letter yet. “Well, nothing about the tavern has changed. Not many Yale kids come by. It’s the regular town folk.”

“But what about you?” He asked again. 

“What about me? Hm,” Sadie tried to deflect the attention, but it was no use. “Well, in the spring, I’m going to be learning about herbs and healing with Genny in Middletown. Ben… I wrote you a letter before I knew what happened. I really thought you forgot about me or met someone, or whatever…” Sadie trailed off. “If my letter seems to have an air of finality to it, please disregard it. In fact, don’t even read it, just toss it. But I’m glad I’m telling you this in person now.”

Ben nodded as he listened in understanding. 

“So… yes. Next spring, I’ll be in Middletown. I’m not sure for how long, but I’ll be learning.”

“That’s amazing, Sadie,” Ben said honestly. “I’m so happy for you to be getting to experience something like that.”

“Really?” Sadie asked with surprise, “I thought you’d be upset.”

“Upset? Sadie, why upset? No, I’m happy for you,” Ben said with gentle urgency. “You deserve to learn new things and visit new places. Why would I ever be upset?”

“Well, because it’s not really anything to do with us. You know, I’m not moving to Wethersfield to be with you.”

Ben shook his head, “Sadie, as much as I would love to come to you, I’m not one to stop you from being able to experience things, even if it means without me. No, I encourage it. I would never be upset because you didn’t make a decision for us.”

“But I want to be with you,” Sadie argued gently, “no matter where I am.”

“I want to be with you too,” Ben said, “and I will. So as long as you’ll have me.” 

"So when I go to Middletown, and you’re in Wethersfield, we can still write letters and be together that way, right?” Sadie asked. 

“Of course,” Ben said like it was the most obvious answer in the world. In a way, it was the only correct answer for him. “And if you don’t hear from me or I from you, let’s not assume the worst. Okay?” 

Sadie laughed, “I’ll try not to get my papers on herbs mixed up with my letters.” Ben chuckled in response. 

“Besides,” Ben said in a low voice, “Middletown is not that far from Wethersfield. In fact, it’s only a few hours by horse. I’ll come to you,” Ben promised. “When you have a free weekend and can sneak around.”

“I can’t wait until we don’t have to sneak around,” Sadie gently ran her thumb over Ben’s jaw. Ben turned his face into the palm of her hand and kissed her. 

“I know,” he whispered, “me too.”

“So, how have you been? How’s teaching? Your students?”

“My students are a riot, but they are eager to learn, and I’m grateful for that. The most recent lesson I taught them was on Latin. I thought of you the entire time.”

“They’re lucky to have an amazing teacher like you,” Sadie said. 

“Thank you,” Ben smiled. “It’s been rewarding, teaching them.”

“I’m sure they love you,” Sadie sighed with content. “As.. as I do.”

“Wh—“

“I love you, Ben,” Sadie said, and she thought it was strange that she hadn’t said it before. Maybe it was one of those things that was so true, it didn't need to be said. 

“Sadie, I love you,” Ben whispered, bringing Sadie’s hands in his lap. He closed the short distance between their faces and gently pressed his lips to Sadie’s, before deepening the kiss. Sadie opened her mouth to invite his tongue. It was a sensation Ben hadn’t felt since the last time he was in her room. He placed his hand on the back of Sadie’s neck and caressed his fingers through her hair, gently tugging to lay her flat on her back. 

Sadie traced her fingers along Ben’s back and stopped when she reached his low ponytail. She untied the ribbon and threw it on the floor, letting his golden brown locks free. Ben gently kicked his boots off so they wouldn’t make a loud thud. For a moment, Ben pulled back to look at Sadie in the soft glow of the candlelight by her bed. She looked so soft and ethereal in such a light, he leaned over her and pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

“What is it?” Sadie asked. 

“You’re just beautiful,” Ben whispered. He leaned down again to kiss her. To remember this moment, Ben truly lost himself in the kiss as he tried to memorize the curve of Sadie’s lips on his, how soft her face felt, and how delicate she felt underneath him. When he pulled back to breathe, Sadie gestured to her night dress. 

“Please unbutton the rest,” she whispered. 

Without a word, Ben did as he was told and spread the thin white linen across so Sadie’s breasts were exposed. He took a shaky breath, mouth agape, as he took in this sight of Sadie. 

“Ben,” she gently urged. “I want you.” Her heart was pounding so fast and hard, she began to shake a little. Ben placed a warm hand on her neck and ran it down the length of her arm. 

“Okay,” Ben nodded. 

“Wait!” Sadie shout-whispered out of nerves, startling Ben. “I—oh dear God, I’m sorry. I—I’m not sure what I mean by I want you. I mean, I want you, but this is—I’ve never been bed before, obviously—"

“Sadie,” Ben interjected, “we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I’d never want you to feel uncomfortable, especially with me.”

“No,” Sadie argued, “I—I want to. It has to happen now, before it will be a while until we see each other again. I want this.”

“As long as you want this,” Ben restated, wanting to be sure. “Is it—special enough? I should have brought—“

“It’s special enough because it’s with you,” Sadie interrupted him. “I don’t need thousands of roses and wine from France, Ben,” she laughed. “I just need you.”

Ben smiled in return, his blue eyes bright even in the dim lighting. Sadie laid down on her back again and took a deep breath as Ben took off his shirt and pants. He kissed her again, slowly this time, and gently placed his right hand on her breast, her nipple fitting in the middle of his palm. Ben took a deep breath as he felt his cock harden already. Sadie spread her legs and turned her face to the side. Ben began to kiss her neck, gently, all the way along her collarbone and chest. 

Sadie watched as he kissed her skin, still slightly shaking underneath him. She closed her eyes and felt her heartbeat quicken again. The more she thought about what was about to happen, the more nervous it made her feel, even though losing her virginity to Ben was all she wanted. She wanted this, she knew it. 

“I’ve got you,” Ben assured her as he pulled back from kissing her breasts. He could hear how fast her heart was beating. When he lost his virginity, his heart was beating fast too. He absolutely hated the experience—it was on a dare, and it was neither enjoyable for him nor the girl. He wanted Sadie’s first time to be more special, more comfortable, more enjoyable, and unforgettable. This was about her, it wasn’t about him. 

“Okay,” Sadie whispered. 

They both knew that after tonight, their relationship would never be the same—in a good way, of course. But what they say about intercourse, must be true. The sharing of bodies and becoming one. 

Ben gently tugged the rest of Sadie’s dress down so she was completely naked on her bed. Still shaking, Ben leaned his body weight on her to warm her. He kissed her from her lips to her chin, to her throat, to the middle of her chest, all the way down her stomach, and finally, to where he knew she needed it most. Her warm sex, her slick folds wet and sensitive. Ben kissed the top of her private and heard Sadie lightly moan as she pressed her head into her pillow. Ben took this as a good sign and gently ran his tongue over her wet folds, which caused Sadie to suppress another moan. Ben breathed in her sweet scent, and nearly almost finished just at the sight of Sadie like this. But he persevered and focused on her pleasure. He licked her wet folds again, and again, and Sadie felt a strange but delicious knot of pleasure in the pit of her stomach, something she remembered she felt before when Ben put his fingers inside her, but this was a different sensation because her hips bucked each time as if to say more, more, more… 

Ben held her thighs in place and continued to lap at her wetness, just enough until he heard Sadie gasp and pull on his locks of hair. She came over his face and was breathing heavily against her bed, her chest heaving. 

“Good lord, Ben,” Sadie said exasperated. 

“I enjoyed that very much,” Ben licked his lips and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Sadie’s scent lingering on his skin. When she finally caught her breath, Ben took off the last of his breeches. Finally, they were both exposed together. Sadie looked at Ben’s hard cock and realized he’d be inside her soon, and she anticipated the feeling at first wouldn’t be pleasurable. 

Ben leaned down to kiss Sadie again, holding her tightly between his arms, another gesture to make sure she knew she was safe in his care. He closed his eyes and kissed her neck again, gently rocking his hard cock between her wet folds, covering his cock with her wetness. 

He hummed in pleasure as he felt the sensation become more slippery with each thrust. His cock was throbbing with pleasure, aching for relief. 

“I’m ready,” Sadie whispered as she caught Ben’s half-moon eyes. He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. Sadie spread her legs wider and he aligned his cock with her opening. 

He was so, so very gentle and moved agonizingly slow as he attempted to push his cock into her tight cunt. Sadie held her breath and closed her eyes, and Ben watched as her face contorted with at first pain. Ben wanted to stop and pull out, even though only the tip of his cock managed to push in, but Sadie fluttered her eyes open and shook her head. 

“Keep going,” she breathed in an airy voice Ben wished he could play on repeat. He nodded and very tensely, continued to push his way inside her tight wetness, that feeling of relief slowly washing over his cock the further he went inside. Ben huffed a breath into her neck and Sadie cried out in pain at his hard cock stretching her so painfully but so sensually. It was nothing she ever expected it to be, this feeling of being full inside her cunt. She wanted more, so she spread her legs even more and Ben thrust inside her slowly, then all at once. 

They both moaned in tandem, Sadie in Ben’s ear and Ben resting his forehead on Sadie as he began to thrust slowly in her wet cunt. Goosebumps formed on his chest and Ben saw Sadie’s nipples harden, a sight that might’ve made him finish there but he quickly shut his eyes and opened them again to see Sadie’s face flushed, mouth open. 

“Mm,” she moaned lightly. Ben felt relief all over his throbbing cock now as he spread Sadie’s tightness and was coated with her wetness. He kept thrusting, slowly and then faster, pulling his hard cock completely out of her before pushing himself inside her again, this time much easier but still, her cunt clenched his cock in the most delicious way, he felt a knot form in his stomach, too. 

“Sadie,” Ben breathed, “you feel lovely.” He continued to thrust into her. Sadie couldn’t form a coherent thought because of how good Ben felt inside her—inside her. She arched her back to feel more of his hard cock hit a certain spot she didn’t know could be touched. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as Ben continued to hit the same spot over and over again. She hummed as his thrusts became faster, and the pain was no longer felt. 

“I love you,” Ben whispered as he felt Sadie’s orgasm about to come. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched him so tightly and her wetness was surely all over her bed now. Sadie opened her mouth and meant to speak, but instead, a light moan escaped her lips that again, almost made Ben combust but he wanted so badly for her to come first. 

“I love you,” Sadie squeaked as felt something burst in her cunt, a million different feelings of pleasure rolled and bucked her hips against Ben’s thrusting, and she shivered underneath him. Soon after her high, Ben thrust once more all the way inside her cunt before pulling all the way out, and she felt his warm seed pool over her stomach. 

Ben expertly reached into his jacket over the bed and found a random handkerchief to wipe his seed from Sadie’s stomach. She was still breathing heavily, as was Ben. She turned on her side and Ben kissed her shoulder, her arm, back and forth. When she finally caught her breath, Sadie spoke. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Sadie whispered. “I—I just feel good. In pain, slightly, but a good pain. I didn’t even know a good pain was such a thing.”

Ben chuckled and caressed Sadie’s face with the back of his hand. “I know.”

Sadie turned around to face him in bed. Ben brought her blankets over the both of them and waited for whatever it was Sadie was going to say. 

“Was that… was that your first, as well?” She asked. 

Ben felt a pang in his heart. No, it wasn’t his first. 

“No,” he answered truthfully. And in a matter of moments, a look of betrayal fell over Sadie’s face. Confusion. 

“No?” She asked. 

“I gave up my virginity a long, long time ago. Before I ever met you, Sadie. It was on a dare, and it was a terrible, terrible experience. It’s the reason why I wanted to wait for you—to touch you, to be with you like this. I didn’t want you to have a terrible experience and I wanted you to feel special. I wanted it to be meaningful. For how meaningful this was for me, it felt like it should’ve been my first.” 

Sadie listened carefully as he spoke—it wasn’t fair to be upset. She understood. 

“Okay,” Sadie said. “It was certainly special to me.” 

“This means so much to me,” Ben said, “you won’t ever understand the weight of this situation for me. God, Sadie, I love you. I can assure you that’s the first time I’ve ever said those words to anybody.”  

“You’re my first, and I certainly hope you’ll be my last, Ben.” 

Ben reached over Sadie’s shoulder and blew out the candle. Sadie’s room instantly filled with darkness, but no amount of darkness could keep out the light that was Sadie to Ben. She nuzzled closer to his chest and closed her eyes to sleep. Ben rested his chin on top of her head, and waited for her to fall asleep before he eventually let his eyes rest and fell asleep, too. 

[londonhalcyon]

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas and happy holidays @tojiriki! I was your Secret Santa for this year’s @hphmsecretsanta.

For your gift, I wrote a fic involving Talbott and your MC Nancy. Thank you for answering my anon ask to help me to get to know Nancy a bit. I hope I wasn’t too far off!

Here’s the first part of the fic. The rest is available on AO3 here. Hope you’re enjoying the holidays!

“Flawed Phials”

Toward the deep black water

beneath the arches,

the swan floats slowly.

Into the dark of the arch the swan floats

and into the black depth of my sorrow

it bears a white rose of flame.

- F. S. Flint

Talbott reread the last stanzas of the poem aloud, just under his breath, quieter than Madam Pince’s superhuman hearing could catch. Imagism—simplicity, clarity of expression, and precision, without excess of verbiage. Feelings and meaning through concrete, detailed images. He could feel the narrator’s somberness—perhaps an admiration for beauty and light in darkness, perhaps some mourning for their loss. It was an excellent way to deliver a message, he thought.

But what if he should take a different approach? There were centuries of poetic movements and scores of groups within those movements and hundreds of styles within those groups. So many ways to tell someone something. So many ways to convey admiration. He could write a Shakespearean sonnet, or a series of haiku, or abandon structure altogether. 

He stared at the blank piece of parchment before him, quill motionless in his hand, and then shifted his gaze back to the castle of books he’d inadvertently built around the desk. He suppressed a groan. It was no use. He had gone through every poetry collection in the Hogwarts library, from the works of scholars from ancient Greece and distant Chinese dynasties to the stanzas of French revolutionaries and English journalists, and he had yet to find the inspiration he sought. 

Why was this so hard? He wrote poetry all the time. He’d never had this much trouble before. 

He’d never written a poem like this one, either.

Half-heartedly, he turned another page in his book. He hadn’t gone through many of the more contemporary poems yet. Maybe he could search for inspiration there next. 

“Hi, Talbott! What’s that you’re working on?”

Startled, Talbott swiftly dragged the book over the parchment. The blank parchment. That he hadn’t written anything on yet. 

Brilliant move, Winger. You’re not acting suspicious at all. 

Nancy had appeared next to him with a quizzical smile. “I didn’t forget an assignment, did I?” she asked, a little worriedly. “I thought the term was over.”

“It is,” he said. “I’m just, er, writing a letter for… Yeah, just writing a letter.”

“Oh.” Her smile quirked even more. “Then what are all the books for?”

“Reading,” he said, which was the daftest answer he could have given. Of course books were for reading; that hadn’t been her question. No one checked out a whole fortress of books for a bit of light reading—not even a Ravenclaw. But he didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press, to his relief. 

“Well, er, I always enjoy a good book,” she said. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. She adjusted her glasses—took her time before she settled on the right words. “I came to ask you—Dumbledore needs volunteers to put up the last of the Christmas decorations. Not many people are here over the holidays, and Hagrid and Flitwick already have so much work to do. I’m on my way to the Great Hall to help out. Would you like to join?”

“You’re staying for Christmas again?” he asked. He wasn’t entirely used to the concept of people who had families choosing to stay away from home during the most family time of the year. He wasn’t complaining; he understood—in Nancy’s case, probably more than she knew. It was just…he wasn’t used to it.  

“I am,” she said. “I think it’ll be fun. It’s almost better, in some ways, to spend Christmas with friends, don’t you think?”

“I…suppose.” That was something else he wasn’t used to. The friends part, specifically. 

“I’ll still write to my family, anyway.” She fidgeted with the ends of her hair. In the soft light of the library, her dark locks were a rich brown-black. “Sooo how about it? Want to decorate with me?”

“I can’t,” he said, too quickly and with too little thought. “I need to finish my, er, letter.” Which he did, sort of. He’d been working for hours with nothing to show. Belatedly, he added, “Sorry,” because he often forgot to say sorry (not that he didn’t mean it; he simply forgot to communicate it), and people didn’t like that. And he didn’t want Nancy to not like him.

Her face fell, a sign he had messed up anyway. “Oh,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink. “That’s okay. Maybe later, then.”

She trudged away. The candlelight fell across her retreating form, granting her dark hair a gentle glow where it tumbled past her shoulders. Talbott looked away. His gaze fell to the book of Flint poems, open overtop of his blank parchment. 

But as the moon creeps slowly

over the tree-tops

among the stars,

I think of her

and the glow her passing

sheds on the men.

Talbott slammed the book shut, heart pounding unexpectedly. Madam Pince hissed at him from some dark corner of the library. On second thought, maybe Imagism was too direct. There were other ways to convey a message.

Quickly, he shoved all the books on a return cart, gathered up his quill and parchment, and bolted from the library, ignoring another furious hiss from Madam Pince. In the corridor, he saw green-trimmed robes about to round the corner. 

“Nancy, wait!” he called, walking as fast as he could without breaking into a full sprint. The Slytherin politely waited for him to catch up. “I changed my mind. A break would be good, I think.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Library was a bit…stuffy.”

Her lips pulled into a broad grin. She clapped her hands together. “Great! This will be so much fun! I mean, decorating’s already fun, but it’ll be extra fun with you.”

“I don’t know if I’m any good at it. It’s been a while since…” 

A white feather necklace draped around his neck. Red-petaled flowers crowding a chipped table. Peppermint on his mum’s hands. Paper snowflakes stuck to a pale blue wall. Music from a crackly wireless. His dad’s foot tapping in time. 

Since my last proper Christmas.

“Don’t worry! You can’t get it wrong, not if you’re having fun.” She did a little spin so that she was walking backwards in front of him, hands behind her back. “You know, if you’ve been in the library all day, we could work outside. Hagrid set up a huge Christmas tree in the training grounds, and he hasn’t had the time to make it pretty. We could do it, just the two of us…if you want.”

He looked down at her (he had to; she was shorter than him) and looked at her grin, and he didn’t think he could say no if he wanted to, because his heart kept pounding. Outside would be good. Compared to the Great Hall, almost no one would be outside, so he wouldn’t be crowded. It would just be…just the two of them.

“Sure, let’s do it,” he said, before he could lose courage. “I prefer being outdoors.”

“Great! It’ll be cold out. Want to meet at the entrance hall in fifteen minutes?”

“Sure.”

“Perfect. See you then!” She dashed off towards the dungeons, robes fluttering behind her. Talbott watched her go, feeling the sudden urge to take off into the winter mountain air and fly until his heart calmed down. He restrained himself, though, and instead walked to Ravenclaw Tower to retrieve his cold weather clothes.

London, my beautiful,

I will climb

into the branches

to the moonlit tree-tops,

that my blood may be cooled

by the wind.

That was it. No more Flint poems for him.

[Link to the full fic on AO3]

[gcuienveres]

who: @arronlannister​ where: guinevere’s chambers within highgarden, during her visit to the kingdom of the reach with her brother, prince arron, as her chaperone

small talk about pleasantries, small talk and pleasantries, some more small talk and pleasantries; there was only elegance within the glistening white walls of highgarden’s seeming paradise, rather than an elegant savagery that the pride of lions had found themselves increasingly accustomed to. still, emerald hues silently looked upon the ladies of the reach court that had been assigned to wait upon her during their time within the kingdom of the reach. 

her time had been spent engaging in civil small talk with the man who was to be her intended, though something did not feel entirely right or as it seemed regarding that entire matter. 

she saw the way in which her brother seemed to quietly fume as he even looked upon the lord of oldtown’s presence. guinevere herself had found herself fulfilling her role as a representative of the westerlands, and thus, his majesty the king of the rock himself - seemingly taking on an appearance of being more social and interactive than those who truly knew her understood her to be. it was a matter the woman often disagreed over with her closest companion, when she disagreed with him at all; for she feared bestowing further cracks upon their relationship. 

he was the very essence of her heart, the essence of her being; an extension of her, and to be reminded of the glazed look of betrayal and pain he looked upon her with was something she found difficult to stomach.  “brother.”

guinevere could not bare the idea of arron lannister looking upon her in that way ever again; and there were times it felt as though, in their quiet companionship and time they spent with one another, the thought of her by the side of the falcon king quietly rose to the very top of his head. though he never spoke on it, she felt as though she could see it on his face. and it only made her wish to never let him go. she heard his footsteps come into her chambers as she placed her thick golden hair into a side braid, clad in her nightgown with a further robe pulled over the top for her own modesty, for she was expecting her brother. 

“tell me of your day.” 

she did not move from her chair as she heard him approach behind her, the tip of her quill continuing to illustrate on the sides of her prayer book as it had before, noting the words she had etched onto it in the weeks following the murder of her beloved aunt. and now the rains, weep o’er their hall, with not a soul to hear. her quill paused upon it for a moment, looking behind at her brother before silently indicating for him to sit beside her. “i spent mine with the lady of the arbor.” 

the ladies could continue watching. she had heard of the gossip. heard of the rumours, and the pain that they spread of them. her quill moved to a piece of spare parchment, where she noted down words meant just for him. words only he could see, as he sat and stretched beside her. why are you not marrying lucrezia redwyne? do not tell me it has not crossed your mind.

[atiredsalmon]

To be Grey and Blue

Connecting the timelines once more, this time with my Warden!

___

Leverette flinched, first, at the crash that sounded from the annex of the upper library, and sighed, second, at the thought of what had been knocked over now. Once upon a time the chaos that came of loud noises and explosive messes would have sent him slinking to the closest corner. He could be hidden there, shaking, for any amount of time until armored hands pulled him away. Later in his years it was more often he was the course of the loud noises and explosive messes, and his reminiscing almost made him smile as he put his quill down and stood from his desk in the main room.

A lot could change in all the years he’d lived. The chaos could become a comfort, when it meant the young mages causing it felt safe enough to be loud and careless. It could bring enjoyment to his day, when it meant Leverette could find his love already beginning to bring order as he stepped around the corner. It could bring unease, too, when it meant that one day, possibly soon - he would have no more messes to think of.

It wouldn’t be today, at least, Leverette thought. Twice now he had been interrupted from his duties assigned by the First Warden to break up another argument between new recruits. He could admit it made him feel young and invigorated again to see them so lively and energetic about their futures, but it made him feel old and frail to know what such futures had in store for them.

It made him scared, more so, to know these latest recruits were his own adoptive children.

“How come Davrin got to go but-“

“He was commanded, mimma. It is no less honorable to take over his orders as it is to take up new ones, no?”

“They’re not orders - they’re chores. And they’re not new, either! I’ve been doing them for over a year now and the best I get is a ‘you’re not grounded anymore but we need you to keep doing them because we decided someone else got to go on the big grand adventure-“

It was a conversation Leverette heard run itself in circles over the previous days and he was grateful for Zevran’s patience. The first time their children had dragged their feet and pouted sour faces at them, Leverette had been at a loss for words. They’d spoiled them too much he said. They’d told them too much, Zevran said. Growing up on stories of legends and heroics would make dreams of more legends and heroics he supposed. It was only natural, especially in the rebuilding Order. Dreams were necessary to combat the filth and ichor they both worked under and now walked through after their reputation’s crash during the time of the Inquisition. Leverette only wished they understood what it took to go beyond that. Time may have separated the Hero of the Fereldan from the Blight, but the scars could never be removed.

A twisted smile crossed his face as his prosthetic leg thumped against the old stone floors of the library to break up the brewing argument. It was a small room considering the size of the main library in Weisshaupt’s lower floors. Whereas that expanse of shelves and briefing rooms took up two floors, the upper library barely covered half of one. But it had the benefit of sitting nearly at the top of the fortress to overlook the entire expanse of the Anderfels mountain range. The large windows made it drafty and frigid in the winter months, but with Levy’s assignment to the room after his promotion to High Constable it had been renovated into a living space. In between the towering bookcases were curtains and scones, and what had once been an archival room now housed a small kitchenette and a bed. He moved towards it, sighing almost fondly when the words thrown back and forth softened into stressed whispers.

“If anyone should be going on grand adventures, shouldn’t it be people who have experience with them? Or people related to those experienced?”

“I’m getting old, but I’m not deaf,” Leverette chuckled as he rounded the corner and leaned against the wall. Brown eyes were grey with haze as age and the taint got to them, but Zevran was no worse off. He was a fraction of a second slower to react than he was twenty years ago and wrinkles framed his mouth, especially so when he smiled as he did now. Besides him were flashes of tunnels. Dark, dank things, riddled with broken stone walls stained red with old blood. When Leverette blinked, Ariane was standing in the kitchen with only the ruddy glow of the sunset from the windows illuminating them. Leverette raised a hand to his temple. Whatever his daughter said was lost beneath a wavering hum.

“Amor-“

Zevran’s purr was never lost on him, and Leverette quieted him with a wave of his hand. He only needed the tone of his voice, not his expression, to understand. Worry wasn’t part of the current situation and Leverette wouldn’t let it become it just yet. He knew the elf too well - if he speak up soon, the point of Arianne’s argument would be lost to them all.

“Histories, in a way, are the same as stories,” Leverette began. He gave Arianne a pointed look when he caught the roll of her eyes. “They’re told by those who made it out alive, but the living have seen only half the story. There’s more than just victories in adventures.”

“You’ve told me that before,” Arianne said. “You’ve told me everything!”

Leverette smiled as she jumped from her place in the kitchen and into his arms and he let sher slip her hands into his. She was a thin elven woman, only a head shorter than him which made her tower over Zevran. She was born in the Circle Tower of Rivain long with her brother and her wiry build and straight red hair was anything unlike Leverette’s reedy frame and blond curls. But her palms were scarred and her grip strong like his. With each pulse in her wrist, he could feel the Fade pounding strongly in her veins - the same as he. She was a strong mage. A strong Warden. She was a far cry from the trembling, starving child he and Zevran had stumbled upon in their search for apostates on the trek to Weisshaupt, but as she looked up at him with round eyes he couldn’t see anything else.

“I’m not afraid, I promise,” she continued, resolute. “I want to fight for the world, just like you did, and see all the things you’ve told me for myself. You two saved me and I know it was for something bigger than just sweeping the stables!”

Leverette turned his smile on Zevran and the corners curled up with a hint of deviousness. “She might just have convinced me.”

Zevran groaned halfheartedly and rested a palm against his forehead. “She knows you weakness, dear Warden. Do not let it fool you.”

Leverette hummed, pretending to think. “I wonder who taught her that.” Arianne laughed and he traded her embrace for Zevran’s. The rogue tugged him close and he let himself fall forward to rest his chin on the top of the elf’s head. His leg ached and he was grateful for the support. His eyes ached, too, and he closed them in a soft sigh as Zevran traced a hand down his back. All he felt was the claws of darkspawn drag across his spine.

“Amor,” Zevran repeated, and there was less worry and more certainty. Unaccepted certainty from the tremble in his voice, but they had talked about this before. Many times in fact - three nights ago being the most recent, in fact. The same night Zevran had found a splotch of black on his knee as he undressed Leverette. There had always been whispers of a plan of what to do when the Calling came, but that night there had been shouts and tears. Of where to go. Of when to make the final descent. Of what to do with the mages they’d brought under their wings and the ones they’d taken into their family. Leverette did not want to see Zevran without him, but he did not want the children to see him go.

“They will not,” Zevran said, stern, and Leverette didn’t realize he had spoken it out loud. “I have recieved word from Varric last night. Arianne and Arlan will be welcomed.”

Leverette was thankful again for Zevran’s arms around him as relief made his knees weak. Time truly did change him. Years ago he had welcomed the idea of death. If the Templars struck him down he could no longer be haunted by their threats or the demons they claimed to protect him from. His duty as Warden Commander could be lifted from his shoulders if his spell got to the Archdemon first. Now? Now Leverette was sure he had never once suffered in his life, not at the Circle, not at the Wardens, not during the war, but only now after seeing the first blackened ulcer that ate at the stump of his knee while Arianne and Arlan had yet to barely fulfill their oaths.

He should have been happy. They were both grown now. One an accomplished made researching the newly revived griffons whether she saw the position in the stables as a punishment or not while the other was a swordsman soon to be without equal. It was true they’d been raised on legends and had big shadows to fill, but it was only a matter of time. It was Leverette and Zevran’s job to pave those first steps for them, and Varric’s acceptance of them into the chase for the Dreadwolf was just that.

But Leverette was afraid, and he heaved a choked breath that tasted of blood and sorrow. He was afraid that his story was to end. And in the bowels of the Deep Roads, too.

He only hoped Zevran wouldn’t try to end his story as well.

“You will be taking Squawksberry,” Zevran said, when Leverette was silent a moment longer. He could smile, however, when he caught Arianne throw her hands.

“That old lady?”

Leverette coughed out a chuckle. “That old lady will at least keep an eye on you.” He heard her stomp a foot.

“Is Arlan coming, too?”

Leverette laughed, louder this time, and he straightened to look Zevran in the eye. “Funny, that. He asked the same thing about you this morning.”