#‘we have a dragon and he instructs the most powerful wizard of all time to become a sugar baby to save the world’

[dragonandmage]

Dragon and The Mage: Before The Dawn

(Some blood in the last part for anyone averse to that)

Forever ago, in this world of magic, a wizard sought to rule over all. He discovered that every living creature held magic, so to wield the strongest magic, he used his immense fortune to gather one of every animal. One such animal was the mighty dragon, the last of their kind. And one by one, each creature was slaughtered like a fruit in a very powerful wine. In time, the wizard’s goal was neared, but the power ended up being too much for his body, and he perished.

With his body deceased, the magic spread to the land, taking form. Combined with the man's own magic, these half-animal, half-human creatures spread into our society. They are a pest, a remnant of one man’s greed, pretending to be human, where they are not. They are deceivers, through and through, nothing more.

A tall man, wearing a long coat, stepped out of the screen and onto the stage, smiling at the crowd of reporters staring up at him. Timothy Avalon.

“That wizard was my great grandfather, rest his soul. My family has long been haunted by his greed and mistakes, but the Avalon corporation has done their best to make up for the harm done.” The fairytale-esque display changed, showing footage of workers picking up trash, pulling cats from trees, and more with each swipe of the man’s hand.

“Nanotech as a whole has been our greatest discovery, taking the accursed dark magics of our predecessors, and making it safer and more humane to use. A clean, kind magic, able to recreate the most complex of organs or technology with ease.” The entire screen compressed, transforming into a small cube, with Timothy turning to catch the falling object. “But I’m sure you all know this well! And it is far from the reason I have called you here today.”

He threw the cube into the air, and it transformed into a glowing blue figure. It resembled a male human, until you got to the face, which had a beard made entirely of tentacles. The figure changed, this time to a female figure with strange, animal-like legs. And then changed again, to a person with crab claws, a person with the lower body of a spider, a person with fox ears, a person with the build of a gorilla.

With each figure, sounds of disgust, fear-- but also curiosity-- rang out.

“These are just some of the recorded creatures left over from my ancestor’s desires, and I assure you, we have tracked even more. They are the last remnant of what he did, staining this world with every second they remain. And as such--”

The cube returned to his hand.

“--It is the duty of the Avalon corporation to dispose of these abominations. To give closure to this nightmare, and ensure the safety and purity of our society. You have my full promise that I will oversee the weeding out of these creatures from our world.”

A number of men and women, wearing vests and gear, stepped from the shadows, lining up alongside Timothy. Each was carrying at least half a dozen of the same cubes from the display, presumably programmed for far more dangerous things.

“These wonderful young ladies and gentlemen have volunteered for this job, and I fully believe in their ability to protect us and handle these threats.” Timothy said, smiling widely to the crowd, who were now snapping photos and fighting to get good angles.

“Humanity will come out on top, my reporter friends! Just as we always have!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting down in the empty hospital waiting room, Leoht Marblis stared down at his technomagic book with amazed eyes. He gently gripped the tiny blue crystal it came with, holding it out in front of him. The boy closed his eyes, focusing on the instructions in the book, to the point where you’d expect something in his head to make a popping sound.

But nothing rang out, and nothing changed. Leoht sighed, lowering his hand and turning back to his book.

“Struggling with it?” Someone asked.

Leoht looked up into his father’s face, who had been standing there for an unknown amount of time. He was wearing his uniform, being on shift at the moment. The hospital had been host to a lot of Leoht’s childhood, catching his father between operations.

“Come on, let me show you how it actually works.” His father chuckled, pulling out his own blue crystal. “Hold it out again, and just… imagine what you want.”

The boy watched his father’s crystal shift, brightening, then forming into the same stethoscope he’d seen his father wear so many times. His eyes sparkled, having never seen it actually happen in real time before.

“Now you try.”

Leoht laid the crystal in his palm, imagining a stuffed animal he’d had for the longest time. Every fiber, every stitch, every sewn cut, a short lifetime’s worth of memories being summoned forth by the boy.

He barely noticed the crystal shifting, growing into a perfect recreation of the plush, composed of a glowing blue material. But once he did, he squealed with joy, holding the faux plush close. “I did it!”

“Yes you did!” His father cheered, scooping up his son into a hug.

“Someday I’ll be as good as you. And then I’ll fix people just like you do.” The young boy giggled to himself.

“Leoht, there is so much more to what I do than fix people.” His father responded. “Maybe you’ll understand that someday.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Janet Lionies looked at the door handle, covered in scratches on and around it. With a deep breath, she spoke. “Rain..? Darling, are you here?” The freckled woman poked the door open, looking around inside.

A low sob came from the makeshift bed of blankets and old pillows.

“Your siblings were worried about you. They said you ran in here crying.”

The pile of blankets moved, revealing another freckled face. “I…”

The woman moved towards the bed, sitting down to the covered figure. They were mother and daughter, and only some of the residents of the abandoned building. “Tell me what happened, okay?”

Through sobs, the girl under the blankets spoke. “I-I was at the park… It was nice out, and I was wearing my jacket I swear!! Nobody was even looking at me, and there was this dog. It ran up to me, and the owner said how cute I looked. I went to pet the dog, and…”

Rain raised her hands out of the blanket. They were a dark blue, long, had spikes emerging from the elbow, ending in oversized claws. Claws covered in blood.

“They just… grew. Th-the poor doggy…” Her sobbing intensified once more, tears flooding down her cheeks. “W-why… m-me…”

The mother wrapped her arms around her child, doing her best to comfort the girl. “I… I’m sorry. We’ll… get some gloves to cover them.” She said, knowing full well how little that would help. Rain was the oldest, and the woman had never had to comfort someone going through this, despite going through her own version in her youth.

The mother’s wings, covered by the poncho, emerged with a ‘Fwoomp’, and wrapped around Rain.

“Will I… ever be able to be normal again…?” The girl whimpered out. “Will I ever be able to use my hands again?”

“Yes you will, my darling.” The mother said, without an ounce of faith in her own words.

#modern fantasy #story #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing

[baneschadenfreude]

Well played Master Aaron, well played 🤦

On that note, this also gave me a little thought about our master wizards' staffs! This may already be obvious to many in the fandom but might as well dwell into it none the less.

This is about how the staffs aren't only are a great tool / extension for a wizard's magic but how it's appearances and capabilities also represent and reflect the wielder's creativity, personality and level of mastery of their Magic.

Let's being with Merlin Ambrosius:

His staff if called the staff of Avalon. It's handle seems to share the same metal that made up most of Merlin's armor albeit in a darker shade and somewhat have matching intricate accents and pattern much like said armor along with it's respective handle and knuckle guard. On the very top, sits a fairly sized Emerald crystal which I think reflects his over-all image as a wizard. Emerald crystals represent intuition, great focus and enhanced foresight which we all know are one of Merlin's key traits. What makes Merlin's staff different from his pupils' is how he wields it. As a -for the lack of a better word- "by the book" kind of Wizard, Merlin cannot (perhaps to his preference) dematerialize his staff like Douxie's and cannot retract like Morgana's and is always seen carrying it physically resulting in minor hindrances similar to when he lost his staff to Gunmar in troll hunters and when he dropped it when the Arcane Order attacked Camelot and only got it back with the help of Arch. This shows that he does not have the capability to summon his staff at will. This implies it's either he designed his staff that way because he believes that he has no need of additional capabilities aside from it being a helpful tool in spell casting or that because of how he perceives magic and his life philosophy as a wizerd reflected how far he can "costumize" his staff. His staff also -in a way- reflects his methods of manifesting magic and that is from his key traits. Unlike emotion intuition, knowledge and keen foresight is a great substitute for magic. A wizard can also harvest power and energy from one's own intentions so long as they mean it and need it and this is perhaps where Merlin generated his magic from and I think we can agree that Merlin barely relied on emotions and instead direct his goal of using magic to his knowledge as a means to succeed in any given obstacle.

Next is Morgana le fay:

Her staff is by far the easiest to decipher. Morgana's staff is called Skath Rhün. As you may have noticed, it's structure resembles that of dragon scales or a texture similar to one of stone. It has no crystal anywhere attached to it and is the only staff known to change its color depending on the wielder's emotions when using it as well as it's ability to conviniently retract at will . The reason to all these features is because of WHO Morgana is. Since Morgana was reintroduced to us in Wizards, we came to understand that Morgana cared for the troll kind and other magical creatures that Arthur had banished out of spite. She also had a natural talent for sorcery and spell casting along with the gift of shadowmancy which further solidifies her strong bond with magic. My personal take of why her staff does not bear a crystal is because of the kind of magic she gravitates to: shadowmancy. Crystals are supposed to represent a wizard's key values and traits in order to manifest magic. Morgana's key to manifesting magic, however is slightly different. Just like what Douxie had once said "magic IS emotion." This was brought up when he was teaching Clair how to use magic without the need of a staff and what magic was Douxie teaching Clair? shadowmancy. Meaning this kind of magic required much more than just ingredients and incantations. It requires emotions. Now how does this tie up to Morgan's lack of crystals on her staff? Because emotion is not a tangible trait. Unlike Merlin's key traits, emotions cannot be contained nor controlled. Only redirected; Emotions consume you, they pull the strings to which you cannot control. However, you can bend it to a direction where it benefits you (but not without cost). Intuition and the ability of foresight are traits that one developes overtime. Emotion is something that come with you the moment you are born which would corelate to why her staff changes color depending on the wielder's emotions. On another note, Morgana is not as different as Merlin in terms of carrying her staff. Unlike Merlin's her staff retracts at will and can be summoned with the encantation "azazazuth khenek thün" which proved to be convenient at times. But like Merlin's case it isn't as convinient given that not only did Morgana lose her staff at some point, Angor Rot and Clair did as well at times because it still retains a physical form.

And lastly Hisirdoux Casperan:

Douxie's staff is THE most unique one I have came across so far from the show🖤 where do I begin!? Okay to start, Hisirdoux's staff is called Spellcaster guitar (appropriately so) and appears to be made of black Iron as a handle with it's respective handle and knuckle guard (foreshadowing Merlin's staff?) along with sky- blue accents and a gold-ish plate on the top that closely resembles his eyes. He can dematerialize and rematerialize it from his magic cuff at will as well as transmute it as a guitar (hence it's name?) and within the hoop of the staff sits his respective crystal. I honestly had a hard time figuring out which cristal it was but then decided on it being a sapphire (You'll know why). Another key feature to his staff is it's ability to stand or levitate in of itself as well as it's ability to return to it's owner without the need of any sort of encantation. Douxie's staffmanship is indeed a very unique one at that and it rightfully reflects him as a whole character. Starting with the reason why I settled for sapphire as Douxie's respective crystal. It's because one: it looks close to what a Sapphire would look like and two: because it's meaning closely resembles himself and his key traits to generate his magic. The Sapphire symbolizes Psychic awareness, Insight, wisdom, Self-discipline and focus which perfectly portrayed Douxie's development for the past 900 years and in addition with the time jump incident. (the scene where Merlin instructed him to feel the stone that called for him was a momentous event for me since it works the same with ACTUAL Witchcraft. When we chose an item to represent our whole being to stand as our extensions for certain spells, we don't just pick in random, we feel which items felt the most compelling, and it goes the same to which crystals/gem stones we use in a craft. Here, Douxie did the same and might be as well for both Merlin and Morgana.) These key traits are what drives Douxie to manifest his magic; It's the core anchor to where he harvests his magic. The next is when his staff's transmutation as a guitar. This one is where I was very proud of him for. His master told him to channel himself to his staff and make it an extension of his own and transmuting it into a guitar was just beautiful! For me, the reason why he chose to turn his staff into a guitar of all things instead of it being an ACTUAL weapon is because he knows he doesn't have to follow the rules to win. He formed his own rules to benefit him in a particular situation with comfort and to give himself somewhat a form of incentive to maximize the efficiency of his performance. It's similar to how even if your sneakers are very worn out, they still provide you comfort and that's enough, compared to a new pair of shoes where you'd be a victim of blisters 😱. This alone proved that Douxie put Merlin's lessons to heart but at the same time utilizes his own creativity with it in order to make "unexpected possiblities". Sounds a lot like what Douxie would do no? Lastly, the feature where his staff materializes at will simply shows how advanced and we'll explored Douxie is with his magic, showing that Duxie's staff- stowing is far better and convinient compared to Merlin and Morgana's staff portability. In addition, it's unlikely that he'd lose his staff in a battle because it comes back to him like a boomerang. And all the better, it's feature to levitate whilst Douxie performs a spell adds to its convenience given that he performs spells mostly with the use of mudras and hand gestures. Over all, I love how his staff adapts to suit its owner's needs and it just makes Douxie and his staffmanship very fun to analyze!

And with this comes a conclusion: with how each wizard wield their staffs, it shows how

(Merlin): when one keeps themselves stagnant to a belief or practice and doesn't acknowledge it's evolution, they will surely remain in the dark, no matter how enlightened they may be.

(Morgana): it is not wrong to let emotions seep out. However, it is a sign of weakness when one allows it to manipulate them.

(Douxie): balance is key to succeed. Use the bones of ancient knowledge to build one's structure of growth whilst embracing the newness of innovation and evolution to the path to maturity!

And that's about it.... I hope I got my point through BUT! keep in mind that these are just the thoughts of what I personally think of them and their relation to each of their respective staffs but I hope you enjoy it.🖤

#tales of arcadia #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #wizards #hisirdoux #toa #toa wizards #douxie casperan #trollhunters #merlin #merlin ambrosius #morgana le fay #tales of arcadia wizards #wizard staff #Douxie's staff #Merlin's staff #Morgana's staff #aaronwaltke #I just want to share about wizard staffs heheh #my lord this is long🤣

[supereffectiveartblog]

Dungeons & Dragons 2021

Last year, I made a piece similar to this, where I drew all of the characters I played as in D&D in 2020. There were many more characters in 2020's D&D character post, since that year we were playing a campaign called Tomb of Annihilation, which is infamous for its meat grinder mindset on character deaths, and indeed, I had 5 characters from Tomb alone.

This year, our D&D group has been playing across 4 different campaigns, all with different DMs, and I am one of them. So for this year's D&D celebration art, I included all 5 characters that I was a player for, as well as depicting the BBEG of my own campaign in the background, since as a DM, your final boss really is your own player character.

Nevaeh is my player character in my friend's Everift Campaign. She was on last year's D&D celebration art too, but since then, we had come back to the campaign from a long hiatus, and some player characters got some stat overhauls/retcons. Nevaeh was originally a Warlock, Pact of the Chain, Undying Patron. But after we came back from our break, I discussed with the DM, and we agreed her backstory as a student studying the Undead made more sense as a Wizard of the Necromancy School.

As a character, Nevaeh is aggressive and impulsive. She does not seek the death and destruction of mankind, but is apathetic in her mission, so if there are casualties it makes no difference. She seeks approval from higher powers, but does not try to change her ways to get that approval. This had led to a long-term goal of becoming a higher power herself, as she seeks the means to become an all powerful Lich. But that goal can wait, and she's fine working under others to save the world before she gets to deity-hood.

Silver is my player character in the Hoard of the Dragon Queen campaign. We haven't had many sessions in this campaign yet, as this DM is new to the process, but I've had time to flesh out Silver a little. Silver is an aspiring folklore hero. They have a very strong sense of justice and will put the needs of those trouble as priority one. In dire situations, Silver will take charge, but has really bad people skills, so will let her other party members do the talking. Silvers wants their actions to do the talking, so that they can get to a stage where they are recognised for their appearance and deeds alone, letting their reputation do the talking. Silver goes by she/they.

Callypso, who more commonly goes by Callie, was my second character in our campaign based in Ravnica. This was a campaign started late last year by the same DM who ran Tomb of Annihilation, and true to his reputation, he has killed of a number of characters in this campaign too. The source book we're following for this campaign, Guild Master's Guide to Ravnica, encourages players to align their characters with one of ten Guilds, all with unique approaches to society and character archetypes.

Callie was a member of House Dimir, a network of spies that wish to keep Ravnica in check through espionage and information warfare. Dimir characters do not wish to be known as such, so choose a cover guild to mask their efforts. Callie played the part of a Cult of Rakdos swordplay performer. Rakdos is a demon who instructs a company of rather savage circus performers. Callie on the surface appeared rather daft and impulsive as a Rakdos performer, and in reality... she really was stupid. She almost left slip multiple times that she was a Dimir spy to her party, and Dimir had to work hard to undo her blunders. In the end she died during a series of riots trying to avert the attention of a rampaging giant from her allies.

Shiro was my third character in our Ravnica campaign. He was a member of the Boros Legion, the standing army and law enforcement of Ravnica. Shiro was introduced to the party as a parole officer, since most of the party had a reputation for troublemaking. Originally, Shiro was a member of the Selesnya Conclave, a peaceful nature loving group. But his family was killed in a Gruul raid similar to what happened to Callie. He and his sister were saved by a Boros Troop, so he signed up as a soldier to better protect his sister and the city. He lost an arm in that incident, and so developed the mental fortitude to harness fists of mental strength (Way of the Astral Self), and became a more serious and straightforward character as a result.

Unfortunately Shiro holds the record for my shortest lived character so far. He was introduced in session 14 and died in session 15 without landing a single punch. I want to use him again in a different campaign, but he'll have to be tweaked for the setting.

Mira is my fourth Ravnica character and at the time of writing, the most recent one. Mira is a member of the Selesnya Conclave, an evangelist cult of nature worshippers. Much of her specific local community are unskilled and lazy, so Sister Mira has had to develop a motherly role to best motivate and care for fellow worshippers. Mira joined the main character's adventurering party when her local dryad sent her on an investigating mission to cleanse the city of poisons. She is often relied upon by her dryad because of her protective nature, and so had been called in many times to best protect the city.

Mira is a very different playstyle for me because I usually play the take-charge offensive type. Playing a Cleric has been interesting because I am more aware of how the rest of the party works, and since her introduction, we've been in less danger of another party wipe. Hopefully, Mira lasts until the end of this campaign. Fingers crossed.

The Lich Queen

In the middle of this year, I started DMing for my own campaign in an original story called Rise of the Lich Queen. This has been sort of a celebration of all the other campaigns we've done so far, and I've included various past player characters as NPCs and enemies. I've written it sort of an alternate ending to my friend's Everift Campaign, and the player characters from that campaign have key roles in this one. My player character, Nevaeh has reached her goal of becoming a Lich, and she has split her soul and underlings across the land as an insurance against a resistance, while she works on her goal on moving from Lich to Goddess.

I'm writing this post toward the end of November, and although we've been playing D&D less these days, we still have more than a month of 2021 left to play D&D. Let's hope I don't jinx myself and one of my current characters die before the end of the year, or I'll have to make amendments to this post.

#digital art #d&d #dungeons and doodles #original character #d&d oc #dungeons and dragons #d&d art #seasonfinale #ravnica d&d #hoard of the dragon queen #everift #lich queen saga

[m0srael]

#4 for @magpiefngrl's 2021 Summer Writing Challenge Prompts: The Power's Out + Found Family + 2nd POV + Story within a Story 1.8k | G | No Warnings (except for spoOoOoky stories) Week 1 (4.3k | M) // Week 2 (4.4k | E) // Week 3 (2k | E)

Read on Ao3

You’re clearing up after dinner when the lights start to flicker. The mid-summer storm outside has been raging for the better part of an hour and shows no signs of slowing.

“Harry…babe!” you call, trying to catch your oblivious boyfriend’s attention. He was the one who insisted on moving into this Muggle house in a Muggle neighborhood powered by Muggle electricity. He should be the one to fix this.

“HARRY!” you bellow, as the lights flicker again.

“Bloody Merlin, what, Draco? Stop shouting!” he says, breezing into the kitchen as if your concern about the lights is entirely unfounded and you are overreacting...again.

You roll your eyes and fight a smile as he wraps his large hands around your hips, pushing you into the edge of the sink and trailing the edge of your jumper in the soapy water that’s escaped the basin.

You yelp when the lights flicker a final time before going off for good.

“What, love, afraid of the dark?” Harry teases against the nape of your neck.

You scoff and push him off, opening your mouth to retort before two tiny squeals reverberate from somewhere overhead.

“Oh, here we go..” you say, as two sets of small feet thunder down the stairs and through the sitting room. You wonder, for probably the millionth time, how two such small creatures can be so very loud. You were never that loud. Then again, if you had been, the consequences would have been... You’re secretly grateful for their noise.

“Dad, dad, dad, dad…”

“Scorpius, Scorpius, Scorpius, Scorpius…” you reply, scooping your son up into your arms.

“The lights have gone.”

“Have they? I hadn’t noticed,” you respond, drily, plopping Scorpius firmly back onto his feet.

“Careful, cub, stop running--you’re going to run straight into the table, or a wall…” Harry says, gripping Teddy by the shoulders to steady him in the dim kitchen. The only light comes from the streetlamp in the alleyway out back and the rapid flashes of lightning slicing through the sky.

“Harry...Scorp and I have just started on a Lego dragon, can you come light the lamps with your wand or something?” Teddy whines, tugging at Harry’s shirt like he’s two instead of twelve.

“Hmm...I have a better idea,’ Harry says. You recognize the look in his eyes, it’s the one that always precedes mischief.

“Scorp, you remember where we keep the marshmallows? Great, grab those...and the graham crackers!” Harry calls after Scorpius as he darts into the pantry.

“What are you up to?” you ask, poking a finger into Harry’s side.

“A time-honored Muggle tradition...you’ll like it, you’ll see.”

--

Harry insists you all forgo the perfectly good couches you spent days picking out and sit on the cushions he’s conjured on the sitting room floor. He arranges you in a circle around a conjured flame, floating in a shallow bowl.

“Mmm, we should turn the lights off more often, dad!” says Scorpius sliding several sticky fingers between his lips. He’s chosen to entirely ignore Harry’s careful s'more making instructions in favor of fitting as many charred marshmallows into his mouth at once as he can manage.

“Okay, okay, Scorp, take a breather, yeah?” you say, grabbing his hand and trying to clear the sugary cobweb from between his fingers with a napkin. “They’re never going to sleep, now, Potter, and I hold you solely responsible.”

“Come onnn, Draco, don’t be such a buzzkill!” Teddy groans around his own s’more, chocolate smeared around the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah, Draco, don’t be such a buzzkill!” Harry echoes. You glare at him as you respond to Teddy.

“Edward, I don’t know where you pick up these phrases, but I assure you I am not a buzzkill. I’d just like to get some sleep sometime this century.”

“Okay, okay, everyone shh…” Harry cuts in. “I’ve got a story for you.”

Scorpius wriggles on his cushion next to you, giddy from the sugar high and hanging on Harry’s every word. You place a hand on the top of his head to settle him.

Harry leans over the little conjured flame, shadows playing across his face and his eyes glinting behind his glasses.

“Once upon a time, there were two boys,” he begins, poking Scorpius in the tummy and setting off a cascade of giggles.

“Once upon a time,” he tries again, “there were two boys who were driving home from the movie theatre.”

“Who was it??” squeals Scorpius. “It’s me and Teddy, right??”

“Can’t be, Harry won’t teach me how to drive,” Teddy huffs.

“Ted, you’re twelve, twelve-year-olds can’t even get their permit…” you start.

“Ssssssshh…” Harry silences you with a raised hand. “Yes. One dark and stormy night, Teddy and Scorp were driving home from the movie theatre.”

“What film were we seeing? Was it Toy Story, Harry?” Scorpius whispers as if he’s trying to respect Harry’s request for silence but he desperately needs to know.

“Yes, love, it was Toy Story,” Harry whispers back. “So, Teddy and Scorpius decide to drive up to the top of a very tall hill overlooking the city.”

“Why?” asks Teddy.

“Why not, Ted, let him finish or we’ll be here till next weekend,” you scold, tossing a marshmallow that bounces off of Teddy’s nose. Teddy scoffs but pops the marshmallow into his mouth.

“As Teddy and Scorpius sit, taking in the beautiful view, an emergency news bulletin comes across the wireless.” Harry covers his mouth with one hand to muffle his voice and affects a newscaster’s cadence, “Breaking news, breaking news! A very dangerous convict has escaped from the local prison. We urge all citizens to be on the lookout, the man is missing one hand, and in its place he has….” Harry pauses for dramatic effect before leaning forward, hands raised, “a hook!”

“Coooooool…” interjects Teddy.

“Harry, where is this going?” you hiss as Scorpius climbs into your lap. Harry flaps the fingers of one hand at you dismissively, and you have half a mind to bite them.

“Harry, why does he have a hook instead of a hand?” Scorpius asks.

“I don’t know, Scorp, he had an accident.”

“And...the Healers couldn’t regrow his hand?”

“No, he isn’t a wizard so he can’t see the Healers.”

“Why is it a hook now, though?”

“Ummmmm, I don’t know. He thought it would be cool like Teddy does.”

“Oh.”

“Sshh, Scorp! I want to hear more about the guy with a hook for a hand!” says Teddy as he flicks Scorpius on the shoulder.

“Ow! You sssh, Ted, you’re the one who interrupted first!”

“Anyways,” Harry says firmly, planting his palms on his thighs. “The man on the radio tells everyone listening that they should alert the authorities immediately if they see a man with a hook for a hand. He’s a very dangerous murderer and won’t hesitate to kill anyone he encounters.”

“Wicked!” cries Teddy.

“One boy says to the other--”

“Scorpius and Teddy!”

“Yes, Scorpius says to Teddy: I don’t like the sound of that, we should probably go home!” Harry says, lowering his voice to a register far deeper than you’ve heard any five or twelve-year-old speak in. Scorpius just giggles and squirms about in your lap.

“Oh, don’t be silly, that man with a hook for a hand will never climb up this big hill!” Harry says, raising his voice about ten octaves. You wince as his voice cracks on the word never.

“Oi! I don’t sound like that!” objects Teddy. You hit him with another well-aimed marshmallow.

“JUST THEN,” Harry shouts across the giggling and shouting, causing everyone to fall silent, “both boys heard the faintest scratching noise just outside the driver’s side window...almost like...the sound of a hook...scraping across metal….” Harry waggles his eyebrows.

“OH NO! THE MAN WITH THE HOOK! HARRY!” Scorpius shouts, nearly bursting your eardrum.

“Scorp, for Merlin’s sake, don’t shout!” you say, wrapping your arms around his middle to urge him back to sitting. He stuffs one small fist in his mouth in what you know is a self-soothing gesture. Oh lord, you think to yourself, if the sugar doesn’t keep him up all night, the nightmares surely will.

Harry looks Scorpius dead in the eye before continuing in a high-pitched voice, “No way, Teddy tells Scorpius, even if it was the man with the hook, he can’t get in here the doors are locked!”

“Oh, yeah! The doors are locked!” Scorpius mumbles around his fist. Harry nods, but the firelight glinting off his glasses makes him look positively sinister.

“Yeah, Scorp, the doors are locked, calm down you big baby!” Teddy teases.

“Hey! You calm down, you big...jerk!” Scorpius fires back.

“Scorpius, what have I told you about calling people names?” you say, exasperated and ready for this whole charade to end. “Harry, is that the end of the story?”

“Oh no….ohhhhhh no, no,” Harry says, shaking his head and completely ignoring the unamused look on your face.

“You see,” he says, leaning in again and lowering his voice to a whisper. “When the two boys finally arrive home safe and sound, they step out of their car…”

“What…” Scorpius whispers back, fist firmly situated in his mouth.

“...they turn around to find….”

“Harry….” you say, warningly.

“A HOOK! HANGING FROM THE DOOR HANDLE!” Harry shouts.

What follows are possibly the most chaotic ten minutes of your entire life.

Scorpius shrieks and flails in your lap, overturning the bowl with the little conjured flame. The rug catches fire quickly.

Teddy starts chanting Harry’s name over and over and pointing at where the flames lick at the cushion he was just seated on.

You summon your wand, but Harry has his at the ready with a hastily muttered Aguamenti. The flames hiss as the water douses them, replacing the bright-hot fire with black smoke that has you all coughing into your sleeves.

You realize you’ve clutched Scorpius to your chest in a vice-like grip when he starts to pull at your sleeve and choke out, “Dad….dad! Let…me...go…”

“Sorry, Scorp...Ted, alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be alright? That was wicked, Harry! Nice one, Scorp!”

You roll your eyes, despite your still-leaping heart and rapid breathing, and jump as the lights flicker back on. The boys both groan in disappointment, but Scorp has one fist clenched around your wrist and the other still stuffed between his lips.

“Alright...bedtime, pajamas...now!” you say, sternly. “If anyone has any nightmares, I’m sure Harry will be more than happy to sleep with you!”

Harry just grins at you like the insufferable bastard that he is.

“Next time, let’s just light some lamps and make a Lego dragon, yeah? Or better yet, fix the bl--fix the lights!” you hiss.

#2021 summer writin #drarry ficlet #drarry fic rec #drarry fic #drarry #just a little tooth-rotting domestic fluff #found family #2nd POV #mosewrites

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hello everyone. I’ve been wanting to write something longer for this couple for a while, and this idea seemed quite fun. I hope you all enjoy it and maybe I can convert some of you to living Freed x Gajeel. Happy reading.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter One - Makarov's Idea

As he walked towards the guildhall, Freed kept looking up at the moon.

The nights sky was cloudless and gave him an unhindered view of stars and the moon. It was a beautiful sight, but made him frown a little. The moon was large and nearly in its fullest state, a concern for the time of year. It had been some time since the full moon had coincided with the longest day of the year, and it seemed like it was going to happen again this year. The brimstone in his blood seemed to fizz at the idea, and he quickly looked away.

At his side, Laxus bumped his shoulder to get his attention. His frown told Freed that the dragon-Slayer had seen his concern, and he smiled to comfort the man.

"Nothing to concern yourself about," Freed assured him. "I've got it under control."

"Make sure you do," Laxus instructed. "No missions until it's over, right?"

"Of course," Freed nodded.

Laxus seemed to think the matter settled at that, but Freed wasn't so sure. The entirety of the guild - or at least those not already on missions - had been called to the guildhall that night. Makarov hadn't explained why he wanted everyone present, but it was entirely possible that they would all be dragged away on a mission and that Freed would be forced to act as if everything was normal. So promising that he wouldn't go on any missions was more wishful thinking than anything else.

Still, if he did have to go on a mission, he could handle it. Six years ago, it had taken him by surprise. Not this time.

"Let's take bets," Bickslow, unaware of the hushed conversation, stated mischievously. "Fifty-fifty odds of it being either a world ending disaster we have to deal with, or some weird competition so he can perv on the gals again."

Laxus winced at the second option, but didn't deny it.

"It better not be the second one," Evergreen huffed. "But knowing him, it probably will be. So I'll put five hundred jewels on that."

"Nah, it's been too long since we all nearly died," Bickslow shrugged. "Five hundred on the world ending. You two sticks in the mud gonna get involved?"

Freed had stopped listening to their conversation moments before, and found his worries back on the sky. The full moon had been scheduled in exactly one week, and it meant trouble for him. He should be making preparations in case he lost control of himself; this was all a distraction. He should leave town, just in case.

His team looked at him in concern, but remained quiet.

As they approached the doors, Freed's mind remained preoccupied. A hand clasped onto his shoulder and jerked him back, and he realised it was Laxus. He frowned, only then realising he had nearly walked into Gajeel Redfox. The dragon-slayer glared at him, arms crossed to highlight his biceps. He didn't have much else than his physical strength, Freed supposed, so he had to show it off.

"Idiot," Gajeel spat at Freed, and Freed nearly scoffed at the hypocrisy of the word. If either of them was an idiot, it was not Freed.

Gajeel was walking into the hall before Freed could retort.

"God, who put a stick up his ass?" Laxus muttered as he shook his head. He looked down to Freed again, looking worried. Perhaps he hadn't believed Freed's assurances as Freed had hoped. "You need to go back? He ain't taking over yet, right?"

"No, I was distracted, that's all," Freed assured him, but none of his team looked happy. "I'm in control of myself. But I've got plans on how to approach the demon should I need them."

"Can we help?" Evergreen asked.

"I'll ask if I need it, but I don't suspect it'll happen," Freed placated them. They were still unconvinced. "You needn't coddle me, I'm fine. Particularly when there's apparently a fifty-fifty chance that the word is ending. Though, I'm putting five hundred jewels on the competition."

Apparently, the mention of gambling, broke the ice.

When they got inside the guildhall, it was more crowded than normal. All the tables on the lower level had been taken, and as such they were forced to climb to the S-Class balcony and sit there. None of them particularly minded that, and they waited for a short while for the rest of their guild mates to file in and settle, drinking and talking as they did so.

Eventually, Makarov walked onto the stage and stood before the crowd of wizards. After a few shouts for them to be quiet, the room fell into silence.

"Thank you all for coming," He began after clearing his throat. "I'm sure you're all wondering why we're here."

"For you to creep on us," Ever mumbled, and Bickslow snickered.

"Fairy Tail is a guild with its bedrock founded on the principles of friendship. We work so well because we work together. Whereas other guilds maybe have one or two teams, we have many," Makarov explained, gesticulating as he spoke. "It makes me so proud that you've forged these relationships and implemented them into your working lives. Your friendship and love allows you to work together to fight harder and become stronger, side by side as friends. I'm immensely proud of you all, but as of late I've noticed a problem with your work."

He paused, and Freed rolled his eyes. Everything was so dramatic with him.

"While you're very good at working with your own teams, you sometimes struggle working with the guild members you're unfamiliar with," Makarov continued, as if this statement were a tragedy. "And sometimes your teams won't be available, and I don't want you not taking group jobs because your regular team isn't around."

"Starting to think I bet on the wrong side," Bickslow grumbled, taking a drink.

Freed found himself only half listening. Whenever Makarov made an announcement there would be a lot of preamble that Freed didn't particularly care to listen to; not when he had bigger problems to deal with.

Perhaps, if his demon did become more powerful under the moon, he could rune himself into a cage of sorts. That might work, though perhaps physical manacles and shackles might be more practice. His team would be able to help with that, most likely. They wouldn't be happy about it, but Laxus had seen first hand what could happen when the demon was allowed to take over without restraint. He would understand.

No. He was worrying for nothing. The demon was under control now. Besides, he should be listening to his guildmaster.

"So, to broaden your opportunities, I've come up with an idea," Makarov grinned. "For the next week, you'll be split into pairs that you don't normally work with, and you'll spend all of that time training together. These partnerships will be random, and by the end of the week you'll be fighting side by side in a tournament to prove how well you can work together."

Hm, maybe a distraction would work better than restraints. Makarov's idea was flawed to the point of pointlessness, but a week of training might wear his body out to the point his demon wouldn't have the energy to take over.

"And, I'm sure you're all thinking why you should care about this, so there's a prize set up for the team who wins," Makarov was grinning wider now. "Fifty thousand jewels!"

That sent a rush of excitement and talking through the guild. Freed found himself wondering where the money actually came from.

"That's not all. The fights will be ranked on teamwork, cohesion and communication, and at the end of each fight you'll get points based on how well you did," Makarov was running his hands together. "And the team with the least points will have to do a punishment, and the winners decide what it is!"

"Goddamnit," Bickslow mumbled, handing money to Evergreen. "Always about punishments with him."

"If you knew that, then you should have bet smarter," Evergreen laughed.

Freed ignored his friends, leaning back and watching as Mirajane brought out a large, ridiculous top-hat. It wasn't difficult to guess that this was how Makarov intended to randomly choose the teams; pick them out of a hat. Maybe Laxus was right and his grandfather was turning mad, but he seemed to be enjoying himself so Freed had no place to complain.

He would simply drink his beer, watch the chaos unfold, and use the oncoming disaster as a distraction.

——

Gajeel swallowed down his beer with a scowl on his face. When Makarov had called this meeting, he had known that whatever the old crow had to say, it would piss him off. When Makarov had made his announcement, Gajeel had been proven right.

A whole week with some random wizard seemed pointless. Gajeel worked alone, and only teamed up with people when needed. This wasn't going to work.

Fuck, it was such a waste of time! He could be doing jobs and earning his rent instead of fucking around with a stranger, trying to embrace Makarov's ridiculous mantra about the importance of friendship. Or if he wasn't making money, then he would have at least liked to relax and take some time to rest. He didn't want to make a new friend, he wanted to eat, sleep and maybe find a guy to take to bed. None of that would happen with some Fairy Tail mage hanging around his neck.

"Our first team is," Makarov began as he rummaged through the stupid hat he'd had made. "Juvia and Natsu!"

Dammit! Juvia was one of the few people he could have tolerated. The other was the bookworm, and Makarov would probably say them working together wasn't in the spirit of things.

Still. At least the salamander had to work with someone who extinguished his fire. That was funny.

"Kickass!" Natsu yelled into the crowd, standing up and pumping his fist in the air because he lacked self control. "We're gonna dominate!"

They wouldn't.

"If you'd like to meet up and discuss your plans then now's the time," Makarov stated, and Natsu was making his way to Juvia immediately. "And now it's time for the next team up," He reached into the hat again. "It's Evergreen and Lucy."

No loss there. Maybe he and blondie could have been okay, but Gajeel wasn't pissed the chance was gone.

Lucy looked up toward the balcony and waved at Evergreen a little intimidated. Evergreen looked resigned, but after some nudging from Bickslow, made her way down the stairs and started to talk to the woman. Gajeel absentmindedly wondered if the two had ever had a conversation, because they looked awkward around each other; painfully so.

Fuck, that was going to be him, wasnt it?

Maybe he could convince whoever he was paired up with to lie and say they trained when they just spend the week alone. But then there was the tournament, and the threat of some random punishment, and Gajeel had already been humiliated after losing the guild-wide race and having to dress like an idiot; it wasn't happening again if he could help it.

"Next up," Makarov reached into the hat again. "Bickslow and Gray."

"Fuck yeah, some eye candy at last!" Bickslow yelled, and people laughed. Gajeel rolled his eyes, watching as Bickslow leant over the banister and looked towards his teammate. "Wanna make a deal, every time you strip, I strip."

Gajeel could see Gray avert his gaze as if bored, but he was red in the cheeks. They were even redder when Bickslow tossed his shirt towards him, both men now partially stripped.

Well, at least he wasn't with that idiot. The two of them would be a mess.

Many other teams were announced, and Gajeel found himself more and more annoyed each time. The partnerships made no sense, most of the time their magics wouldn't compliment each other, and Gajeel knew that it would end in disaster. At best, half of the partnerships might end up having a fight with each other, and at worst people would get hurt because they just didn't work. How the hell did Makarov think this was going to work out?

Maybe Gajeel should have slunk out and not attended the meeting. He was running out of money for rent, and his landlord was a bastard just waiting to kick him out, so it made sense for him to get a job. Maybe if he left now he could avoid it altogether.

"And next we've got Gajeel," Makarov shouted, and Gajeel cursed. "And Freed."

Oh fuck no. Absolutely fucking not!

Gajeel was not working with that stuck up prick. A guy like that had clearly never worked a day in his life, probably grew up in a fancy ass house and only got into guild work because it was a trend to slum it with the other wizards. Everything about Freed - holier than thou - Justine screamed pampered brat. He would probably throw a fit if he got dirt under his fingernails. He was the damn opposite of a man like Gajeel, and he knew he'd struggle not to murder the spoiled shit before the week was over.

Could he even defend himself? He had magic, but as far as Gajeel knew, that only worked when he had time to prepare. Hardly practical in the heat of battle, and what would he do without it? He wouldn't have the balls to use his sword as a weapon, Gajeel was pretty sure of that, and he looked like a gust of wind could take him out.

Fucking dammit. The salamander was better than this!

He damn near walked out of the guildhall then and there, because he couldn't deal with an egomaniac freak for a week. But, as he went to move, he saw the egomaniac freak walking towards him, and he was not going to allow Freed to think he was running away. He turned in his chair to meet the man's gaze but didn't make a move towards him. Freed could come to him, not the other way around.

Soon, Freed was in his space, standing above him. His expression was as unimpressed with the situation as Gajeel felt. At least they could agree on one thing.

He looked up to meet the mans gaze. Freed was… taller than he thought.

"I think it's fair to assume neither of us want to do this," Freed said rather than greeting him. Gajeel was right, he was a dick. "And I expect that the way I train myself won't be the same way you do, so likely there's a chance we'll come to blows, so I have a proposition."

Huh, maybe Freed was gonna suggest they lie and only pretend to train together. Gajeel would agree, but make Freed squirm first. "Yeah?"

"If we went somewhere and tried to train how we both normally do, it would be an act of futility," Freed explained. "We have six days to work together. I propose that for the first three days we train however I wish, and you follow my instructions. For the latter three days, we train however you wish and I will follow your instructions. That way, we both get three days of training ourselves in a way we know works, and the week won't be a waste of time entirely."

Huh.

That wasn't what Gajeel had thought, but he could deal with it. He had to admit, trying to find a way that would work for them both would not work, so this meant he'd at least have three days to improve himself.

"Fine," He grunted. "But I wanna go first. You're gonna drag me to some library or something like that, and that's a waste of time. Might as well make it a rest day after some actual working out."

Freed sighed, as if dealing with a child, and Gajeel nearly kicked him in the balls. "If you insist,"

"I do."

"Well then, I'll see you on Monday."

"Guess ya will."

That was it, and Freed turned to go back to his table. Gajeel emptied his drink, then grinned. Three days where the asshole had to do as he said; that was interesting. Freed probably spent his life being pampered and spoiled, but not with Gajeel. Nah, he was gonna work. Gajeel was gonna put Freed through hell and love every damn second of it.

#Gajeed #Freedjeel #Freed x Gajeel #freed justine #gajeel redfox #fairy tail #fanfic #writing #Canon Divergent #Multi Chapter #Chapter One #Word Count: 2.75k

[liunaticfringe]

By Scott Moore April 25, 1999 

 At first blush, Lucy Liu seems to have little in common with the character she plays on "Ally McBeal."

Unlike the assertive Ling -- soft L, soft G -- she doesn't growl. Neither is she sarcastic, rude or abrupt.

Rather, it's with enthusiasm, courtesy and a bit of a giggle -- traits Ling Woo would never permit -- that Liu explains the hardships of portraying this very litigious woman each week on Fox's "Ally McBeal" (Monday at 9 on Fox).

"I can barely keep a straight face most of the time in the scenes," she said.

The insulting Ling Woo has little time for emotion -- or so viewers first thought. After the death of a young boy, the character kept up the persona by declaring: "We knew he was dying, Ally. This isn't the world's biggest shock. The boy had leukemia. Get over it."

The true shock came moments later, when Ling was seen crying outside the hospital parking lot -- and later still when she apparently arranged for a blimp to convey a comforting sign to Ally.

The turn of events "are just as surprising to me as to the audience," Liu said.

The actress has had quite a ride since being introduced in the second week of the season as the ill-tempered friend of icy attorney Nelle Porter, played by Portia de Rossi. A potential cash cow for the law firm and a romantic target for perpetually excited senior partner Richard Fish, Ling instantly drew the scorn of the rest of the firm and the attention of a large fan base, helping move the series into the Top 20 in the weekly ratings.

The turn of events, like each week's story line, has been a pleasant surprise to Liu, who was rejected last year while auditioning for the role of Nelle.

"They said they'd think about me in the future," Liu said. "But I was the only person of color there at all," of the half-dozen actresses applying for the part.

However, a few days later, she was cast for a role that writer-producer David E. Kelley created for her. Further, color doesn't seem to have any detriment on Kelley's offbeat comedy, where interracial relationships are commonplace.

If anything, Liu's Chinese heritage works to her advantage. Kelley has used her ability to speak Mandarin in a couple of story lines -- Ling inadvertently instructed waiters to cook John Cage's pet frog Stephan ("Tastes like chicken") and addressed a jury with nonsensical phrases that Liu's mother helped her construct. ("It doesn't matter what I say here," said the subtitles, "because none of you speak Chinese. But you can see from my sad face . . . I'm sympathetic.").

As a result, Ling Woo has evolved from an Asian stereotype -- that of Dragon Lady or sexual object -- to a multi-dimensional character. In addition to the show of emotion, Ling recently was revealed to have a law degree and joined the firm.

Still, Liu's character certainly has draconian elements. Her appearance on screen is often accompanied by glares or "The Wizard of Oz's" Wicked Witch of the West theme. And Ling's creative foreplay-but-no-play romance with Fish has gained Liu a growing fan base and several job offers.

"I knew she was well-rounded from the beginning," Liu said. "There's friction, and she's blunt and honest, but I always knew she was a sympathetic character."

Sympathetic? Ling yelled at a man in a wheelchair to watch where he was going. ("It's bad enough you people get all the parking places.") She declares that "men are horny toads." She has sued a radio shock jock for contributing to sexual harassment and a nurse of a plastic surgeon for having natural breasts.

Ling would interrupt here to ask, "Do you have a point?" Liu only laughs.

"I have to study her a great deal so she can shoot them out," Liu said of her character's audacity. "She doesn't hesitate when she talks or after she talks. If I know the lines, I can be more secure when I try to express her.

"She's a very clear-minded, blunt person. She's not disciplined, so I need to discipline myself, so she doesn't get lost or muddled."

Liu, born in New York City's Queens in the 1960s (she doesn't reveal her age), began acting while majoring in Asian languages and cultures at the University of Michigan. She played the lead in "Alice in Wonderland."

She had recurring roles on "ER," "High Incident" and "Coach," and guest spots on "NYPD Blue," "L.A. Law," "Michael Hayes" and "The X-Files." She also had a regular role as a brainy student in the short-lived Rhea Perlman comedy "Pearl."

And after playing a former girlfriend in "Jerry Maguire" and a hooker in "Bang," she made a mark this year with her portrayal of a brutal dominatrix in the Mel Gibson action-thriller "Payback." Liu also appears in "True Crime" with Clint Eastwood, "Molly" with Elizabeth Shue, and the "Austin Powers" sequel, "The Spy Who Shagged Me." And she was just cast in Ron Shelton's "Play It to the Bone."

"I've come to terms with things the last few years, so I can appreciate things as they're happening," she said.

Her favorite part of playing Ling, she said, are the romantic scenes with Fish (played by Greg Germann, a fellow accordion player).

"They're a real challenge for me, because my roles before didn't involve sexuality," said Liu. "I think, Oh, I can't do that. But, hey, I'm a woman, why not find some sensuality in that? When you discover yourself and allow yourself to be sexual, it's a really liberating feeling."

In fact, Liu says Fish is the character to whom she is most drawn: "I'm attracted to humor. Laughter is the most important thing in the world -- it takes 10 years off your age."

So, Liu is able to laugh off criticism from those who try to attach stereotypical labels to her character. "Chill out, take a pill or don't watch the show," she said.

The line could have been Ling's, except it was accompanied by a giggle.

CAPTION: Lucy Liu: "I can barely keep a straight face most of the time in the scenes."

CAPTION: LUCY LIU

#Lucy Liu #Ling Woo #1999 #WaPo #ally mcbeal #dragon lady

[grigori77]

2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 2)

20.  ONWARD – Disney and Pixar’s best digitally animated family feature of 2020 (beating the admittedly impressive Soul to the punch) clearly has a love of fantasy roleplay games like Dungeons & Dragons, its quirky modern-day AU take populated by fantastical races and creatures seemingly tailor-made for the geek crowd … needless to say, me and many of my friends absolutely loved it.  That doesn’t mean that the classic Disney ideals of love, family and believing in yourself have been side-lined in favour of fan-service – this is as heartfelt, affecting and tearful as their previous standouts, albeit with plenty of literal magic added to the metaphorical kind.  The central premise is a clever one – once upon a time, magic was commonplace, but over the years technology came along to make life easier, so that in the present day the various races (elves, centaurs, fauns, pixies, goblins and trolls among others) get along fine without it. Then timid elf Ian Lightfoot (Tom Holland) receives a wizard’s staff for his sixteenth birthday, a bequeathed gift from his father, who died before he was born, with instructions for a spell that could bring him back to life for one whole day.  Encouraged by his brash, over-confident wannabe adventurer elder brother Barley (Chris Pratt), Ian tries it out, only for the spell to backfire, leaving them with the animated bottom half of their father and just 24 hours to find a means to restore the rest of him before time runs out.  Cue an “epic quest” … needless to say, this is another top-notch offering from the original masters of the craft, a fun, affecting and thoroughly infectious family-friendly romp with a winning sense of humour and inspired, flawless world-building.  Holland and Pratt are both fantastic, their instantly believable, ill-at-ease little/big brother chemistry effortlessly driving the story through its ingenious paces, and the ensuing emotional fireworks are hilarious and heart-breaking in equal measure, while there’s typically excellent support from Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Elaine from Seinfeld) as Ian and Barley’s put-upon but supportive mum, Laurel, Octavia Spencer as once-mighty adventurer-turned-restaurateur “Corey” the Manticore and Mel Rodriguez (Getting On, The Last Man On Earth) as overbearing centaur cop (and Laurel’s new boyfriend) Colt Bronco.  The film marks the sophomore feature gig for Dan Scanlon, who debuted with 2013’s sequel Monsters University, and while that was enjoyable enough I ultimately found it non-essential – no such verdict can be levelled against THIS film, the writer-director delivering magnificently in all categories, while the animation team have outdone themselves in every scene, from the exquisite environments and character/creature designs to some fantastic (and frequently delightfully bonkers) set-pieces, while there’s a veritable riot of brilliant RPG in-jokes to delight geekier viewers (gelatinous cube! XD).  Massive, unadulterated fun, frequently hilarious and absolutely BURSTING with Disney’s trademark heart, this was ALMOST my animated feature of the year.  More on that later …

19.  THE GENTLEMEN – Guy Ritchie’s been having a rough time with his last few movies (The Man From UNCLE didn’t do too bad but it wasn’t exactly a hit and was largely overlooked or simply ignored, while intended franchise-starter King Arthur: Legend of the Sword was largely derided and suffered badly on release, dying a quick death financially – it’s a shame on both counts, because I really liked them), so it’s nice to see him having some proper success with his latest, even if he has basically reverted to type to do it.  Still, when his newest London gangster flick is THIS GOOD it seems churlish to quibble – this really is what he does best, bringing together a collection of colourful geezers and shaking up their status quo, then standing back and letting us enjoy the bloody, expletive-riddled results. This particularly motley crew is another winning selection, led by Matthew McConaughey as ruthlessly successful cannabis baron Mickey Pearson, who’s looking to retire from the game by selling off his massive and highly lucrative enterprise for a most tidy sum (some $400,000,000 to be precise) to up-and-coming fellow American ex-pat Matthew Berger (Succession’s Jeremy Strong, oozing sleazy charm), only for local Chinese triad Dry Eye (Crazy Rich Asians’ Henry Golding, chewing the scenery with enthusiasm) to start throwing spanners into the works with the intention of nabbing the deal for himself for a significant discount.  Needless to say Mickey’s not about to let that happen … McConaughey is ON FIRE here, the best he’s been since Dallas Buyers Club in my opinion, clearly having great fun sinking his teeth into this rich character and Ritchie’s typically sparkling, razor-witted dialogue, and he’s ably supported by a quality ensemble cast, particularly co-star Charlie Hunnam as Mickey’s ice-cold, steel-nerved right-hand-man Raymond Smith, Downton Abbey’s Michelle Dockery as his classy, strong-willed wife Rosalind, Colin Farrell as a wise-cracking, quietly exasperated MMA trainer and small-time hood simply known as the Coach (who gets many of the film’s best lines), and, most notably, Hugh Grant as the film’s nominal narrator, thoroughly morally bankrupt private investigator Fletcher, who consistently steals the film.  This is Guy Ritchie at his very best – a twisty rug-puller of a plot that constantly leaves you guessing, brilliantly observed and richly drawn characters you can’t help loving in spite of the fact there’s not a single hero among them, a deliciously unapologetic, politically incorrect sense of humour and a killer soundtrack.  Getting the cinematic year off to a phenomenal start, it’s EASILY Ritchie’s best film since Sherlock Holmes, and a strong call-back to the heady days of Snatch (STILL my favourite) and Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels.  Here’s hoping he’s on a roll again, eh?

18.  SPONTANEOUS – one of the year’s biggest under-the-radar surprise hits for me was one which I actually might not have caught if things had been a little more normal and ordered.  Thankfully with all the lockdown and cinematic shutdown bollocks going on, this fantastically subversive and deeply satirical indie teen comedy horror came along at the perfect time, and I completely flipped out over it.  Now those who know me know I don’t tend to gravitate towards teen cinema, but like all those other exceptions I’ve loved over the years, this one had a brilliantly compulsive hook I just couldn’t turn down – small-town high-schooler Mara (Knives Out and Netflix’ Cursed’s Katherine Langford) is your typical cool outsider kid, smart, snarky and just putting up with the scene until she can graduate and get as far away as possible … until one day in her senior year one of her classmates just inexplicably explodes. Like her peers, she’s shocked and she mourns, then starts to move on … until it happens again.  As the death toll among the senior class begins to mount, it becomes clear something weird is going on, but Mara has other things on her mind because the crisis has, for her, had an unexpected benefit – without it she wouldn’t have fallen in love with like-minded oddball new kid Dylan (Lean On Pete and Words On Bathroom Walls’ Charlie Plummer). The future’s looking bright, but only if they can both live to see it … this is a wickedly intelligent film, powered by a skilfully executed script and a wonderfully likeable young cast who consistently steer their characters around the potential cliched pitfalls of this kind of cinema, while debuting writer-director Brian Duffield (already a rising star thanks to scripts for Underwater, The Babysitter and blacklist darling Jane Got a Gun among others) show he’s got as much talent and flair for crafting truly inspired cinema as he has for thinking it up in the first place, delivering some impressively offbeat set-pieces and several neat twists you frequently don’t see coming ahead of time.  Langford and Plummer as a sassy, spicy pair who are easy to root for without ever getting cloying or sweet, while there’s glowing support from the likes of Hayley Law (Rioverdale, Altered Carbon, The New Romantic) as Mara’s best friend Tess, Piper Perabo and Transparent’s Rob Huebel as her increasingly concerned parents, and Insecure’s Yvonne Orji as Agent Rosetti, the beleaguered government employee sent to spearhead the investigation into exactly what’s happening to these kids.  Quirky, offbeat and endlessly inventive, this is one of those interesting instances where I’m glad they pushed the horror elements into the background so we could concentrate on the comedy, but more importantly these wonderfully well-realised and vital characters – there are some skilfully executed shocks, but far more deep belly laughs, and there’s bucketloads of heart to eclipse the gore.  Another winning debut from a talent I intend to watch with great interest in the future.

17.  HAMILTON – arriving just as Black Lives Matter reached fever-pitch levels, this feature presentation of the runaway Broadway musical smash-hit could not have been better timed. Shot over three nights during the show’s 2016 run with the original cast and cut together with specially created “setup shots”, it’s an immersive experience that at once puts you right in amongst the audience (at times almost a character themselves, never seen but DEFINITELY heard) but also lets you experience the action up close.  And what action – it’s an incredible show, a thoroughly fascinating piece of work that reads like something very staid and proper on paper (an all-encompassing biographical account of the life and times of American Founding Father Alexander Hamilton) but, in execution, becomes something very different and EXTREMELY vital.  The execution certainly couldn’t be further from the usual period biopic fare this kind of historical subject matter usually gets (although in the face of recent high quality revisionist takes like Marie Antoinette, The Great and Tesla it’s not SO surprising), while the cast is not at all what you’d expect – with very few notable exceptions the cast is almost entirely people of colour, despite the fact that the real life individuals they’re playing were all very white indeed.  Every single one of them is also an absolute revelation – the show’s writer-composer Lin-Manuel Miranda (already riding high on the success of In the Heights) carries the central role of Hamilton with effortless charm and raw star power, Leslie Odom Jr. (Smash, Murder On the Orient Express) is duplicitously complex as his constant nemesis Aaron Burr, Christopher Jackson (In the Heights, Moana, Bull) oozes integrity and nobility as his mentor and friend George Washington, Phillipa Soo is sweet and classy as his wife Eliza while Renée Elise Goldsberry (The Immortal Life of Henrietta Jacks, Altered Carbon) is fiery and statuesque as her sister Angelica Schuyler (the one who got away), and Jonathan Groff (Mindhunter) consistently steals every scene he’s in as fiendish yet childish fan favourite King George III, but the show (and the film) ultimately belongs to veritable powerhouse Daveed Diggs (Blindspotting, The Good Lord Bird) in a spectacular duel role, starting subtly but gaining scene-stealing momentum as French Revolutionary Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, before EXPLODING onto the stage in the second half as indomitable third American President Thomas Jefferson.  Not having seen the stage show, I was taken completely by surprise by this, revelling in its revisionist genius and offbeat, quirky hip-hop charm, spellbound by the skilful ease with which is takes the sometimes quite dull historical fact and skews it into something consistently entertaining and absorbing, transported by the catchy earworm musical numbers and thoroughly tickled by the delightfully cheeky sense of humour strung throughout (at least when I wasn’t having my heart broken by moments of raw dramatic power). Altogether it’s a pretty unique cinematic experience I wish I could have actually gotten to see on the big screen, and one I’ve consistently recommended to all my friends, even the ones who don’t usually like musicals.  As far as I’m concerned it doesn’t need a proper Les Misérables style screen adaptation – this is about as perfect a presentation as the show could possibly hope for.

16.  SPUTNIK – summer’s horror highlight (despite SERIOUSLY tough competition) was a guaranteed sleeper hit that I almost missed entirely, stumbling across the trailer one day on YouTube and getting bowled over by its potential, prompting me to hunt it down by any means necessary.  The feature debut of Russian director Egor Abramenko, this first contact sci-fi chiller is about as far from E.T. as it’s possible to get, sharing some of the same DNA as Carpenter’s The Thing but proudly carving its own path with consummate skill and definitely signalling great things to come from its brand new helmer and relative unknown screenwriters Oleg Malovichko and Andrei Zolotarev.  Oksana Akinshina (probably best known in the West for her powerful climactic cameo in The Bourne Supremacy) is the beating heart of the film as neurophysiologist Tatyana Yuryevna Klimova, brought in to aid in the investigation in the Russian wilderness circa 1983 after an orbital research mission goes horribly wrong.  One of the cosmonauts dies horribly, while the other, Konstantin (The Duelist’s Pyotr Fyodorov) seems unharmed, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s now the host for something decidedly extraterrestrial and potentially terrifying, and as Tatyana becomes more deeply embroiled in her assignment she comes to realise that her superiors, particularly mysterious Red Army project leader Colonel Semiradov (The PyraMMMid’s Fyodor Bondarchuk), have far more insidious plans for Konstantin and his new “friend” than she could ever imagine. This is about as dark, intense and nightmarish as this particular sub-genre gets, a magnificently icky body horror that slowly builds its tension as we’re gradually exposed to the various truths and the awful gravity of the situation slowly reveals itself, punctuated by skilfully executed shocks and some particularly horrifying moments when the evils inflicted by the humans in charge prove far worse than anything the alien can do, while the ridiculously talented writers have a field day pulling the rug out from under us again and again, never going for the obvious twist and keeping us guessing right to the devastating ending, while the beautifully crafted digital creature effects are nothing short of astonishing and thoroughly creepy.  Akinshina dominates the film with her unbridled grace, vulnerability and integrity, the relationship that develops between Tatyana and Konstantin (Fyodorov delivering a beautifully understated turn belying deep inner turmoil) feeling realistically earned as it goes from tentatively wary to tragically bittersweet, while Bondarchuk invests the Colonel with a nuanced air of tarnished authority and restrained brutality that made him one of my top screen villains for the year.  One of 2020’s great sleeper hits, I can’t speak of this film highly enough – it’s a genuine revelation, an instant classic for whom I’ll sing its praises for years to come, and I wish enormous future success to all the creative talents involved.

15.  THE INVISIBLE MAN – looks like third time’s a charm for Leigh Whannell, writer-director of my ALMOST horror movie of the year (more on that later) – while he’s had immense success as a horror writer over the years (co-creator of both the Saw and Insidious franchises), as a director his first two features haven’t exactly set the world alight, with debut Insidious: Chapter III garnering similar takes to the rest of the series but ultimately turning out to be a bit of a damp squib quality-wise, while his second feature Upgrade was a stone-cold masterpiece that was (rightly) EXTREMELY well received critically, but ultimately snuck in under the radar and has remained a stubbornly hidden gem since. No such problems with his third feature, though – his latest collaboration with producer Jason Blum and the insanely lucrative Blumhouse Pictures has proven a massive hit both financially AND with reviewers, and deservedly so.  Having given up on trying to create a shared cinematic universe inhabited by their classic monsters, Universal resolved to concentrate on standalones to showcase their elite properties, and their first try is a rousing success, Whannell bringing HG Wells’ dark and devious human monster smack into the 21st Century as only he can.  The result is a surprisingly subtle piece of work, much more a lethally precise exercise in cinematic sleight of hand and extraordinary acting than flashy visual effects, strictly adhering to the Blumhouse credo of maximum returns for minimum bucks as the story is stripped down to its bare essentials and allowed to play out without any unnecessary weight.  The Handmaid’s Tale’s Elizabeth Moss once again confirms what a masterful actress she is as she brings all her performing weapons to bear in the role of Cecelia “Cee” Kass, the cloistered wife of affluent but monstrously abusive optics pioneer Aidan Griffin (Netflix’ The Haunting of Hill House’s Oliver Jackson-Cohen), who escapes his clutches in the furiously tense opening sequence and goes to ground with the help of her closest childhood friend, San Francisco cop James Lanier (Leverage’s Aldis Hodge) and his teenage daughter Sydney (A Wrinkle in Time’s Storm Reid).  Two weeks later, Aidan commits suicide, leaving Cee with a fortune to start her life over (with the proviso that she’s never ruled mentally incompetent), but as she tries to find her way in the world again little things start going wrong for her, and she begins to question if there might be something insidious going on.  As her nerves start to unravel, she begins to suspect that Aidan is still alive, still very much in her life, fiendishly toying with her and her friends, but no-one can see him.  Whannell plays her paranoia up for all it’s worth, skilfully teasing out the scares so that, just like her friends, we begin to wonder if it might all be in her head after all, before a spectacular mid-movie reveal throws the switch into high gear and the true threat becomes clear.  The lion’s share of the film’s immense success must of course go to Moss – her performance is BEYOND a revelation, a blistering career best that totally powers the whole enterprise, and it goes without saying that she’s the best thing in this.  Even so, she has sterling support from Hodge and Reid, as well as Love Child’s Harriet Dyer as Cee’s estranged big sister Emily and Wonderland’s Michael Dorman as Adrian’s slimy, spineless lawyer brother Tom, and, while he doesn’t have much actual (ahem) “screen time”, Jackson-Cohen delivers a fantastically icy, subtly malevolent turn which casts a large “shadow” over the film.  This is one of my very favourite Blumhouse films, a pitch-perfect psychological chiller that keeps the tension cranked up unbearably tight and never lets go, Whannell once again displaying uncanny skill with expert jump-scares, knuckle-whitening chills and a truly astounding standout set-piece that easily goes down as one of the top action sequences of 2020. Undoubtedly the best version of Wells’ story to date, this goes a long way in repairing the damage of Universal’s abortive “Dark Universe” efforts, as well as showcasing a filmmaking master at the very height of his talents.

14.  EXTRACTION – the Coronavirus certainly has threw a massive spanner in the works of the year’s cinematic calendar – among many other casualties to the blockbuster shunt, the latest (and most long-awaited) MCU movie, Black Widow, should have opened to further record-breaking box office success at the end of spring, but instead the theatres were all closed and virtually all the heavyweights were pushed back or shelved indefinitely.  Thank God, then, for the streaming services, particularly Hulu, Amazon and Netflix, the latter of which provided a perfect movie for us to see through the key transition into the summer blockbuster season, an explosively flashy big budget action thriller ushered in by MCU alumni the Russo Brothers (who produced and co-wrote this adaptation of Ciudad, a graphic novel that Joe Russo co-created with Ande Parks and Fernando Leon Gonzalez) and barely able to contain the sheer star-power wattage of its lead, Thor himself.  Chris Hemsworth plays Tyler Rake, a former Australian SAS operative who hires out his services to an extraction operation under the command of mercenary Nik Khan (The Patience Stone’s Golshifteh Farahani), brought in to liberate Ovi Mahajan (Rudhraksh Jaiswal in his first major role), the pre-teen son of incarcerated Indian crime lord Ovi Sr. (Pankaj Tripathi), who has been abducted by Bangladeshi rival Amir Asif (Priyanshu Painyuli).  The rescue itself goes perfectly, but when the time comes for the hand-off the team is double-crossed and Tyler is left stranded in the middle of Dhaka with no choice but to keep Ovi alive as every corrupt cop and street gang in the city closes in around them.  This is the feature debut of Sam Hargrave, the latest stuntman to try his hand at directing, so he certainly knows his way around an action set-piece, and the result is a thoroughly breathless adrenaline rush of a film, bursting at the seams with spectacular fights, gun battles and car chases, dominated by a stunning sustained sequence that plays out in one long shot, guaranteed to leave jaws lying on the floor.  Not that there should be any surprise – Hargrave cut his teeth as a stunt coordinator for the Russos on Captain America: Civil War and their Avengers films.  That said, he displays strong talent for the quieter disciplines of filmmaking too, delivering quality character development and drawing out consistently noteworthy performances from his cast.  Of course, Hemsworth can do the action stuff in his sleep, but there’s a lot more to Tyler than just his muscle, the MCU veteran investing him with real wounded vulnerability and a tragic fatalism which colours every scene, while Jaiswal is exceptional throughout, showing plenty of promise for the future, and there’s strong support from Farahani and Painyuli, as well as Stranger Things’ David Harbour as world-weary retired merc Gaspard, and a particularly impressive, muscular turn from Randeep Hooda (Once Upon a Time in Mumbai) as Saju, a former Para and Ovi’s bodyguard, who’s determined to take possession of the boy himself, even if he has to go through Tyler to get him.  This is action cinema that really deserves to be seen on the big screen – I watched it twice in a week and would happily have paid for two trips to the cinema for it if I could have.  As we looked down the barrel of a summer season largely devoid of blockbuster fare, I couldn’t recommend this enough.  Thank the gods for Netflix …

13.  THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 – although it’s definitely a film that really benefitted enormously from releasing on Netflix during the various lockdowns, this was one of the blessed few I actually got to see during one of the UK’s frustratingly rare lulls when cinemas were actually OPEN.  Rather perversely it therefore became one of my favourite cinematic experiences of 2020, but then I’m just as much a fan of well-made cerebral films as I am of the big, immersive blockbuster EXPERIENCES, so this probably still would have been a standout in a normal year. Certainly if this was a purely CRITICAL list for the year this probably would have placed high in the Top Ten … Aaron Sorkin is a writer whose work I have ardently admired ever since he went from esteemed playwright to in-demand talent for both the big screen AND the small with A Few Good Men, and TTOTC7 is just another in a long line of consistently impressive, flawlessly written works rife with addictive quickfire dialogue, beautifully observed characters and rewardingly propulsive narrative storytelling (therefore resting comfortably amongst the well-respected likes of The West Wing, Charlie Wilson’s War, Moneyball and The Social Network).  It also marks his second feature as a director (after fascinating and incendiary debut Molly’s Game), and once again he’s gone for true story over fiction, tackling the still controversial subject of the infamous 1968 trial of the “ringleaders” of the infamous riots which marred Chicago’s Diplomatic National Convention five months earlier, in which thousands of hippies and college students protesting the Vietnam War clashed with police.  Spurred on by the newly-instated Presidential Administration of Richard Nixon to make some examples, hungry up-and-coming prosecutor Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is confident in his case, while the Seven – who include respected and astute student activist Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and confrontational counterculture firebrands Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen) and Jerry Rubin (Succession’s Jeremy Strong) – are the clear underdogs.  They’re a divided bunch (particularly Hayden and Hoffman, who never mince their words about what little regard they hold for each other), and they’re up against the combined might of the U.S. Government, while all they have on their side is pro-bono lawyer and civil rights activist William Kunstler (Mark Rylance), who’s sharp, driven and thoroughly committed to the cause but clearly massively outmatched … not to mention the fact that the judge presiding over the case is Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella), a fierce and uncompromising conservative who’s clearly 100% on the Administration’s side, and who might in fact be stark raving mad (he also frequently goes to great lengths to make it clear to all concerned that he is NOT related to Abbie).  Much as we’ve come to expect from Sorkin, this is cinema of grand ideals and strong characters, not big spectacle and hard action, and all the better for it – he’s proved time and again that he’s one of the very best creative minds in Hollywood when it comes to intelligent, thought-provoking and engrossing thinking-man’s entertainment, and this is pure par for the course, keeping us glued to the screen from the skilfully-executed whirlwind introductory montage to the powerfully cathartic climax, and every varied and brilliant scene in-between.  This is heady stuff, focusing on what’s still an extremely thorny issue made all the more urgently relevant and timely given what was (and still is) going on in American politics at the time, and everyone involved here was clearly fully committed to making the film as palpable, powerful and resonant as possible for the viewer, no matter their nationality or political inclination.  Also typical for a Sorkin film, the cast are exceptional, everyone clearly having the wildest time getting their teeth into their finely-drawn characters and that magnificent dialogue – Redmayne and Baron Cohen are compellingly complimentary intellectual antagonists given their radically different approaches and their roles’ polar opposite energies, while Rylance delivers another pitch-perfect, simply ASTOUNDING performance that once again marks him as one of the very best actors of his generation, and there are particularly meaty turns from Strong, Langella, Aquaman’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (as besieged Black Panther Bobby Seale) and a potent late appearance from Michael Keaton that sear themselves into the memory long after viewing. Altogether then, this is a phenomenal film which deserves to be seen no matter the format, a thought-provoking and undeniably IMPORTANT masterwork from a master cinematic storyteller that says as much about the world we live in now as the decidedly turbulent times it portrays …

12.  GREYHOUND – when the cinemas closed back in March, the fate of many of the major summer blockbusters we’d been looking forward to was thrown into terrible doubt. Some were pushed back to more amenable dates in the autumn or winter (which even then ultimately proved frustratingly ambitious), others knocked back a whole year to fill summer slots for 2021, but more than a few simply dropped off the radar entirely with the terrible words “postponed until further notice” stamped on them, and I lamented them all, this one in particular.  It hung in there longer than some, stubbornly holding onto its June release slot for as long as possible, but eventually it gave up the ghost too … but thanks to Apple TV+, not for long, ultimately releasing less than a month later than intended.  Thankfully the film itself was worth the fuss, a taut World War II suspense thriller that’s all killer, no filler – set during the infamous Battle of the Atlantic, it portrays the constant life-or-death struggle faced by the Allied warships assigned to escort the transport convoys as they crossed the ocean, defending their charges from German U-boats.  Adapted from C.S. Forester’s famous 1955 novel The Good Shepherd by Tom Hanks and directed by Aaron Schneider (Get Low), the narrative focuses on the crew of the escort leader, American destroyer USS Fletcher, codenamed “Greyhound”, and in particular its captain, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks), a career sailor serving his first command.  As they cross “the Pit”, the most dangerous middle stretch of the journey where they spend days without air-cover, they find themselves shadowed by “the Wolf Pack”, a particularly cunning group of German submarines that begin to pick away at the convoy’s stragglers.  Faced with daunting odds, a dwindling supply of vital depth-charges and a ruthless, persistent enemy, Krause must make hard choices to bring his ships home safe … jumping into the thick of the action within the first ten minutes and maintaining its tension for the remainder of the trim 90-minute run, this is screen suspense par excellence, a sleek textbook example of how to craft a compelling big screen knuckle-whitener with zero fat and maximum reward, delivering a series of desperate naval scraps packed with hide-and-seek intensity, heart-in-mouth near-misses and fist-in-air cathartic payoffs by the bucket-load.  Hanks is subtly magnificent, the calm centre of the narrative storm as a supposed newcomer to this battle arena who could have been BORN for it, bringing to mind his similarly unflappable in Captain Phillips and certainly not suffering by comparison; by and large he’s the focus point, but other crew members make strong (if sometimes quite brief) impressions, particularly Stephen Graham as Krause’s reliably seasoned XO, Lt. Commander Charlie Cole, The Magnificent Seven’s Manuel Garcia-Rulfo and Just Mercy’s Rob Morgan, while Elisabeth Shue does a lot with a very small part in brief flashbacks as Krause’s fiancée Evelyn. Relentless, exhilarating and thoroughly unforgettable, this was one of the true action highlights of the summer, and one hell of a war flick.  I’m so glad it made the cut for the summer …

11.  PROJECT POWER – with Marvel and DC pushing their tent-pole titles back in the face of COVID, the usual superhero antics we’ve come to expect for the summer were pretty thin on the ground in 2020, leading us to find our geeky fan thrills elsewhere. Unfortunately, pickings were frustratingly slim – Korean comic book actioner Gundala was entertaining but workmanlike, while Thor AU Mortal was underwhelming despite strong direction from Troll Hunter’s André Øvredal, and The New Mutants just got shat on by the studio and its distributors and no mistake – thank the Gods, then, for Netflix, once again riding to the rescue with this enjoyably offbeat super-thriller, which takes an intriguing central premise and really runs with it.  New designer drug Power has hit the streets of New Orleans, able to give anyone who takes it a superpower for five minutes … the only problem is, until you try it, you don’t know what your own unique talent is – for some, it could mean five minutes of invisibility, or insane levels of super-strength, but other powers can be potentially lethal, the really unlucky buggers just blowing up on the spot.  Robin (The Hate U Give’s Dominique Fishback) is a teenage Power-pusher with dreams of becoming a rap star, dealing the pills so she can help her diabetic mum; Frank Shaver (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is one of her customers, a police detective who uses his power of near invulnerability to even the playing field when supercharged crims cause a disturbance.  Their lives are turned upside down when Art (Jamie Foxx) arrives in town – he’s a seriously badass ex-soldier determined to hunt down the source of Power by any means necessary, and he’s not above tearing the Big Easy apart to do it. This is a fun, gleefully infectious rollercoaster that doesn’t take itself too seriously, revelling in the anarchic potential of its premise and crafting some suitably OTT effects-driven chaos brought to pleasingly visceral fruition by its skilfully inventive director, Ariel Schulman (Catfish, Nerve, Viral), while Mattson Tomlin (the screenwriter of the DCEU’s oft-delayed, incendiary headline act The Batman) takes the story in some very interesting directions and poses fascinating questions about what Power’s TRULY capable of.  Gordon-Levitt and Fishback are both brilliant, the latter particularly impressing in what’s sure to be a major breakthrough role for her, and the friendship their characters share is pretty adorable, while Foxx really is a force to be reckoned with, pretty chill even when he’s in deep shit but fully capable of turning into a bona fide killing machine at the flip of a switch, and there’s strong support from Westworld’s Rodrigo Santoro as Biggie, Power’s delightfully oily kingpin, Courtney B. Vance as Frank’s by-the-book superior, Captain Crane, Amy Landecker as Gardner, the morally bankrupt CIA spook responsible for the drug’s production, and Machine Gun Kelly as Newt, a Power dealer whose pyrotechnic “gift” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  Exciting, inventive, frequently amusing and infectiously likeable, this was some of the most uncomplicated cinematic fun I had all summer.  Not bad for something which I’m sure was originally destined to become one of the season’s B-list features …

#onward #onward movie #The Gentlemen #spontaneous #spontaneous movie #hamilton #hamilton movie #sputnik #sputnik movie #The Invisible Man #Extraction #extraction movie #the trial of the chicago 7 #greyhound #greyhound movie #project power #2020 in movies

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don’t Underestimate Me

Here it is! This story is becoming a spider web of ideas for me so i can promise most of the chapters are just going to get longer from here! 

so a little clarification since I have the ideas in my head and I want to make sure it’s completely clear. The OC and main character is named Skylar. When she is in the castle being “herself” she goes by Abigail. They are the same person and from Freds POV he caller her Abigail in the castle. So just wanted to clear that up because it will happen a lot as the story progresses and didn’t want anyone to be confused! 

Warnings: None 

Taglist: @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon @magical-spit @birdie-writes @ickle-ronniekins @heart-of-tempered-steel @wand3ringr0s3 @thoseofgreatambition @things-that-start-with-f @elf-punk @bitchywhisperswizard @a-little-too-much @izzytheninja @kpopgirlbtssvt @shadowsinger11 @harrysweasleys @obsessedwithrandomthings (let me know if you want to be added! or taken off)

Word count: 2.8K

Chapter 1: The Fine art of Bullshit. 

She let out a grunt as she got slammed into the ground for the second time in a row, knocking the wind out of her. A feeling she’s never fully gotten used to since it happens so little. 

“Come on, really? You’re not focusing!” Her brother yells at her from where he stands. 

“You could have blocked that in your sleep.” He continues goading her. Sighing, she stands up and brushes the dirt off of her palms. Cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders, she takes a deep breath and tries to focus. 

Every time she tries all she can think of is the unopened letter sitting in their kitchen. The one made from heavy parchment with the red wax seal of the royal family. 

“What if they know?” She asks again for what seemed like the thousandth time since they started practicing. 

“Then you better go down with a fight.” He responds with a laugh. 

“Mace! This isn’t funny. Do you know what they would…” 

“How could they have found out? You haven’t done anything wrong. Now stop making excuses and bow.” She huffs at how casually he can brush this off but bows anyways. The sounds of them counting seem to be far away and her body picks up the familiar hum of energy, like a snake getting ready to attack. 

This time she manages to block everything he throws at her. Colorful and powerful swirls of magic aimed just so perfectly. “Fight back!” Mace yells. “Stop blocking and fight!” His words distract her for a split second and she’s fumbling over her feet and when she goes to block the next spell, her balance is off. She stumbles and falls over her own body, something she hasn’t done in years. 

“Stop. Enough of this. Just let me read the letter.” She calls, rolling out of the embarrassing position of falling straight on her face. 

“Oh how the mighty fall.” Mace laughs. His laugh is cut off when he gets blasted off of his feet and lands on his back. 

“Cheater!” He calls after his sister as she runs into the house. 

The house isn’t anything special. Smaller than most for this area actually, but it’s home. A small part of her thinks her father kept it small to stop people from wanting to visit. Or come to fight. No one would think the best duelers in the entire kingdom would live in a house like this and that keeps them safe. More than anything it keeps Skylar safe. If someone found out that there weren't three children in this house, if someone pieced together all of it, she would be doomed. Or not be able to fight, snap her wand and tell her she could never duel again and at that point they might as well just kill her. 

She closed the screen door behind her, letting it slam harder than she normally would. Every thought on the tiny innocent letter that could ruin her life. Vaguely, she processes that Mace is now in the kitchen with her. 

With shaking fingers she rips open the seal and pulls out the letter. 

 “We hope this letter finds you well. 

On Behalf of His Royal Majesty, William Weasley, 

The presence of both Mason and Skylar Green are being requested to partake in the Tri Wizard Tournament. 

A carriage arrives to pick you up on the first of May. 

Best regards, 

Alastor Moody, Assistant to the Royal family.” 

“May first. That’s a week away.” Mace says once he finishes scanning the letter over his sister's shoulder. 

“I can't go!” She screams. Voice wavering slightly. 

“It doesn’t look like you have a choice. You don’t turn down a royal summons.” He says grabbing the letter out of her shaking fingers. 

“I’ll write back and say I have dragon poxs. Something.” She shoots back after a moment of thinking. 

“And risk them sending a doctor? Absolutely not.” 

“I’ll hide. Run away?” Mace just shakes his head. 

“Calm down. We’ll think of something. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.” He says and grabs her to pull her into a hug. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She cries into his shoulder. 

The week goes by quickly, and they still did not have a plan. Not one that was rational at least. And Mace shoots her down everytime she suggests just disappearing. 

“We do not back down from a challenge” He says sternly. 

“This isn’t a challenge. This is crazy.” Was her response to that comment. 

The general feeling of dread seems to intensify as the two go to bed on the last day of April.

“Merlin, just let it turn out okay.” Skylar says to herself before she blows out the candle that night. She stays up most of the night tossing and turning. A small part of her contemplates waking up Mace but what good will that do in the long run. He’ll just say she’s overreacting again. So she tries her best to sleep and ends up falling asleep shortly after the sun rises. 

A loud knock startles her out of her sleep. Mace opens the door with a grim face. Behind him is a server-looking woman with square glasses. Her black hair is pulled back into a tight bun that gives her entire face a very pitched looked. She was wearing an emerald traveling cloak. Skylar jumps out of bed before she remembers herself. Standing next to her bed she realizes that they’ve already been caught. 

“I’d rather hoped you had come up with  a plan on your own.” The older woman sighed as she walked into the room, closing the door on Mace. She suddenly reached into her bag and pulled out a large page hat. “That’ll cover your hair enough to get you into the castle.” She pushed Skylar into her vanity chair and promptly started braiding the girls hair. Once done she pins the hat over her hair in a way that shades her face as well. 

“That’ll do.” She says in a satisfied voice. With that she walks over to the small closet and looks through it. “As will these.” Pulling out clothes she throws them to the very confused girl. The woman gives her a look and up and down and Skylar suddenly realizes she wants her to change now. 

“Girl I’ve raised more children than you can count. Change. Now.” She sighs when she notices the look on the girls face. She at least gives her the decency of turning around while she strips to her undergarments. Hiding her embarrassment, she pulls on the itchy tweed pants and the green linen shirt she had also been thrown. McGonagall gives her a stern look over and simply nods her head. 

“Pack all of the clothes you have. Leave the dresses. It looks like the princess might have some that will fit you.” With one more stern look Skylar realizes she had been given another instruction. 

“Oh..Yes..Yes ma’am.” She says as she went to grab her small suitcase and starts throwing all of the work clothes she had. That plus some of her more favorite dueling wands. 

She doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows raise when she sees them. 

“Okay.” Skylar says looking around. “That’s everything then.” 

“Perfect. Let’s go get your brother and we’ll be off.” She pulls out a pocket watch. “Better be fast. We’re already running behind.” She shoos the girl out of her room and grabs her bag before closing the door. 

“How did you know?” Skylar asked the woman when they got outside of the house. 

For the first time she sees her smile. “I’ve seen all the birth records for this area and nothing matched up.” Skylar pales at her words. The woman gives a small laugh. “Nothing to worry about by seeing them I changed them to match what everyone already assumes. Although I’m glad you can see the severity of being found.” The smile falls away. “I have been in charge of raising the royal families children but I do have other duties in the kingdom. So now my job is making sure you survive this whole ordeal.”  She looks the girl up and down and sighs. 

“Lady Minerva McGonagall.” she says, extending her hand slightly. Skylar grabs it and gives her hand a firm shake. “I do hope you have a better plan than what I saw today?” 

“My plan was just to run away but Mace says we never back down from a challenge.” Skylar responds. 

“And what a challenge this will be. Alright enough chit-chat.” 

Mace has now joined them outside. Carrying a small bag thrown over his shoulder. 

“Time to go.” McGonagall says and gestures for the two of them to climb in. After throwing their bags in the luggage carrier in the back they hop into the carriage and set off for the main city. 

The castle has been in a flurry all morning. Getting ready for the Tri wizard tournament champions to arrive. Maids and security running around getting rooms ready and greeting everyone at arrival. 

Fred sighed heavily to himself. This is the biggest deal anyone has made of the Tri wizard tournament in over a century. Leave it to Bill to try to outdo is father. Everyone in the family knows the real reason he’s trying to make this a bigger event than it needs to be, and while he understands it, what it symbolizes is terrifying. 

He stares out of the large bay window in his room. Sunlight just started to peak over the horizon making the grounds one of his favorite shades of pink. He should have been down in the rink to start his training about an hour ago but couldn’t find the energy to be around some of the new fighters that have come in. All so loud and determined to prove themselves. Once word got around that the Green brothers were coming it became chaos. Most of them personally having lost to them, it became a matter of pride. Seeing how they trained, how serious they must take the skill and most of all, trying to learn them well enough to figure out their weak spots. Training is something typically done in private so training with the same people you compete against is out of many of their comfort levels. 

A knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. “Yes?” He called in response. Already knowing who it was. 

“You never showed up. Come on, everyone is waiting for you.” A voice said from the door. 

“This is so pointless, George. You see that right?” He didn’t move when he spoke. 

“Mate, I hate this as much as you do but we have to set an example right?” His twin responded. 

“Says the one who gets to keep his nose buried in books all day. Why didn’t I choose to do more schooling?” He sighed once again and went to grab his training bag from it’s hook.

“Because we share one brain cell and we have found out we can’t both use it at the same time.”  The thought makes them both laugh. George always has a way of cheering him up and vice versa. The beauty of being raised alongside someone. If one was sad then they both would suffer so they do their best to keep each other in light spirits. 

“Let's get this over with.” He says, clapping his brother on the shoulder and closing the door. 

Of course the arena was already crazy by the time he arrived. George takes his place on the sidelines , notebook in hand to write about the events of training as normal for the competition. 

He ran into what he thought was a wall, but typically walls dont yelp. Fred looks in front of him and is confused, thinking he imagined it until he looks down on the ground and sees a mess of fabric and curls. 

“Oh no.” He scrambles to give her a hand up, wrapping his own hand around her shoulder. 

“Merlin are the hallways in this castle not big enough-” The girl starts, then her eyes go round as she sees his face. She instantly pales and he fights the urge to laugh at her expression. 

“I could definitely ask someone to fix that for you.” He said with a laugh. The first thing he really notices about her are her eyes. Now that they seemed to have gone back down to their normal size. He’d call them brown but that doesn’t seem to do it justice. Standing as close to the window as they are, he can see little flecks of gold and even some blue in them. Like someone splattered paint at a chocolate brown canvas. And her hair seems isn’t exactly curly or straight but a sort of wild middle.  He’d be an idiot to say she wasn’t pretty but with how shocked she looked she just looks funny. 

“I am so sorry. Pri-” He holds up a hand cutting her off for the second time. Formal too.

“I should have watched where I was going. And you must be new around here. Fred.” He holds out his hand and he can see her freeze. “It’s polite to shake it, ya know?” 

That seems to unfreeze her and she jerks her hand out, almost robotically. He noticed how her hand felt a little too rough. 

“Are you here for the tournament?” He asked once he let her hand go. 

“Umm...no..why would I be?” She responded a little too quickly. 

“My mom sent out a bunch of personal invitations to some of the ladies in the court. And some others.” Fred says remembering the way her hands felt rough. Like she actually does something besides sit around and try on hats and gossip. 

“Ah. Yes. Something like that then.” She says with a small laugh. 

“Sorry this is just my first day in the castle and I haven’t seen anyone.” This makes him laugh. 

“So definitely your first time in the castle. So what’s your name? Since you seem to know mine, it’s only fair.” 

“S..Um Abigail.” The girl responds. “Abigail Jones.” He laughs again. 

“You sure? You don’t seem so sure.” He giddies her. 

She nods. “Absolutely sure.” 

“Glad we could get that established.” She can’t help but give a small laugh at his tone. 

She has the kind of laugh that seemed like it belonged in one of his meetings. It was a deep belly laugh, even if it was just a little one. He made the decision right then and there to make her laugh more. 

A clink of heels echo through the hallway. 

“Oh there you are!” A familiar voice calls from down the hall. Fred’s head immediately snaps up. Used to people constantly looking for him. 

“Minnie!” He calls when he sees the woman standing in front of him. 

“Minnie?” the girl next to him whispers with a small giggle. 

“I have been looking for you everywhere!” McGonagall comes stomping down the hallway with a certain fury in her eyes that makes Fred feel like he just pulled one of his first pranks all over again. She completely blows past him and grabs Abigail's wrist. 

“Fred. Trouble as always I see” Minerva says with a slight smile. “You. Now.” She pulls the girls arm and starts heading the way she came. 

“Well it was nice meeting you!” Fred calls at the retreating girl. 

“Same to you.” She flashes him one of the biggest smiles he’s seen in a long 

“Now if i have to explain the simple rules of a duel to you one more time. I will hex you into the next century.” Mace screams into Krum’s face. A hand is suddenly on his shoulder. 

“I got this.” A voice deeper than what he’s used to saying in his ear. That one was his idea actually.  A spell to make her voice deeper to actually pass off as who she’s trying to. Forces her from being mute, especially when you have to count during duels. 

“Krum. You and me. Now.” Skylar shouts across the pitch. 

His chest actually seems to puff up more as he walks into the dueling area. 

The two face each other and bow. Through their masks, Skylar never takes her eyes off of the man. 

“One. Two. Thr-” Before the last syllable is even out of his mouth, he gets blasted onto his back. 

“Now next time, you’ll figure out that we have those rules to be fair. If that’s the only way you can beat someone. Do better.” Skylar calls to him before spinning on her heel and turning away. 

Fred just stares in awe as he walks away. Krum is one of the biggest douches there is and if he’s going to be the one to constantly put him in his place, then maybe this tournament is worth it after all.

#royal au #oc royal #harry potter oc #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley au #dont underestimate me #royal!au #royal!weasley

[babineni]

Fluff 20 - "Don't tell me not to worry, because I'm going to do that anyway."

Thank you, I had fun writing this 💖 I hope you like it

—

'I did it,' Gaura barely believed her own words. 'Guys, I did it!' She yelled over her shoulder. The Watcher turned around, and waited for a response, but the only things she received were wide-eyed stares at the creature behind her and a heavy puff of smoke being breathed upon her.

A few hours earlier, Gaura along with Aloth and Edér landed on an uninhabited island. There was a chant, that she wanted to master - a chant that could summon a sky dragon and have it under her control. The Watcher, however, was never good at summoning songs, and this one was particularly difficult even among them. Which is why Gaura decided to practice away from her ship - as well as the reason why the two men refused to let her go alone.

'Seriously, there is no need for this,' the Watcher led the way into the depths of the wilderness. 'I probably won't be able to manifest the dragon in the first place.'

'And if you do, and you lose control over it, you'll need every help you can get to defeat it,' Aloth's frustration was palpable in his voice. 'This is an unnecessary and reckless endeavour, Gaura. You are already strong enough to face anything the Deadfire can throw at you, and you have us, you don't need to take such risks.'

'Dunno about that,' Edér replied, 'we are hunting a giant, untouchable, adra colossus... maybe the dragon could distract it for about... let's say half a minute before he smashes us anyway.'

Gaura rolled her eyes. 'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' she grumbled. A moment later the woods cleared and a small, swampy but open space appeared in front of the Watcher. 'Perfect,' she said as she turned back to her companions. 'Alright, I'll just dig up my songbooks, and I'll be ready to begin.'

Aloth answered with a long, exasperated sigh.

'I'll be fine,' the Watcher stepped closer to the wizard and took his face in her hands. 'Don't worry about me.'

'Don't tell me not to worry about you, because I will be doing that, anyway,' Aloth frowned but didn't pull away. Gaura kissed him tenderly, and it softened the elf's expression, but his eyes still reflected his concern.

'You can keep an eye on me, if you'd like,' Gaura shrugged and stepped away. 'But I bet this will be pretty boring for the two of you.'

'You just make sure not to get your head bit off. We'll enjoy the show,' Edér approached the Watcher. He pulled her to himself by her waist and left a lingering kiss on her lips. 'For luck,' he added with a smirk and a wink. Then he took Aloth by the shoulder and together they started searching for someplace relatively clean and dry to sit.

Just as Gaura suspected, her first few dozen tries didn't yield a decent result. Most of the time, nothing happened. Other times, she felt the ether around her shift and form a massive shape, only to fall apart as soon as she stopped singing. Aloth's worst fear did not come to pass, as the Watcher never managed to make the material she summoned take a stable form long enough to pose a threat. But Gaura didn't give up. Her musical attacks were quick, accurate, complex and powerful, she reminded herself. She could channel all that and more into that dragon.

The Great Wyrm Flew O'er the Mountains

The ether responded. It slowly merged the memories lingering on the island into a gigantic, fearful shape. Soon, Gaura could make out its limbs, then its scales, then its eyes staring back at her intently.

Edér and Aloth rushed to the Watcher's side, ready to repel the attacks of the creature. But it didn't move or talk, it merely waited for instructions.

'Alright,' Gaura let out a relieved chuckle, 'let's see... Lift your left wing. Only your left wing.'

The dragon gave her a perplexed look but complied.

'Oh. My... Lower your wing and whip your tail to the side.'

The dragon obliged and knocked down several trees behind it. The Watcher let out a happy yell. She stepped closer to the beast and waved to the others to follow. Edér was eager to do so, but Aloth stood, shocked, as if his legs themselves rooted him in place. The veteran took a few steps before he noticed the elf's reluctance. He reached back and pulled him along by his wrist.

'It's alright, it's not going to hurt us,' Gaura assured them while she reached for the dragon's belly. A surprised but joyful gasp left her when her fingers touched the scales. 'Lower your head so we can pet you,' she called out to the creature.

The dragon leaned down to the Watcher's eye level and just as she claimed, she started scratching a spot on the side of its face. Edér walked past the Watcher, to the dragon's neck. He let go of Aloth so he could pet the dragon with both hands.

'Gaura, just so you know,' he said in awe, 'this... might just be the happiest day of my life,' his words turned into a staggered laugh, which the Watcher returned.

Aloth, however, almost seemed to have shrunk in frame and his face reflected nothing but anxiety. Gaura lightly took his hand and guided him to her place. She cradled his body from behind as she led his hand to a spot between the dragon's nostrils.

'O... Oh.' That was all he could say when his palm made contact with the creature. The wizard's gaze met the dragon's and for a few moments he watched his reflection in those amber eyes. He watched himself as he was embraced by the Watcher first, then a moment later, Edér joined them and wrapped his arms around them both as best as he could. Aloth seemed to have relaxed at the sight, and Gaura could've sworn she saw his reflection smile at the three of them.

Then the dragon disappeared, leaving the three of them in a somewhat uncomfortable but comforting hug, laughing with relief and happiness.

#pillars of eternity #long post #team gilded vale #aloth corfiser #edér teylecg #poe fic #oc fic: gaura #gaura sélfolgh #sorry i'm on phone so uhh... no readmore #Wrytinge™

[romioneficfest]

A peculiar discovery

Title: A peculiar discovery.

Prompt/Day: Day 7 – Anything goes

Tumblr name: 

Rating: PG, but PG-13 for rude language.

Brief summary: A confrontation between McGonagall and Ronald Weasley over a certain petrified girl.

Any possible triggering/warning tags: Rude language and my dreadful English. I apologize to the heirs of Shakespeare, but, I was really dying to publish something on Romioneficfest.

 “This is absurd, Mr. Weasley!”  said McGonagall. There was a touch of weariness in his complaint and a perfect point of exasperation and disbelief when he rolled her eyes and raised her hands to heaven like asking to Most High for enough patience to be able to keep his composure.

“My arse it is!”  Ron mumbled underneath his breath retorting her decision in a rare emotional tidal wave from the professor of transfiguration and head of the Gryffindor house.

“I beg your pardon?” The expression of astonishment on the old teacher's face is immediately replaced by the frown, the stony countenance, and the gaze above the crescent glasses which the students of Hogwarts have learned, since their first year is the equivalent of an imminent and particularly original detention.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter”, the whisper escapes from a head down, red as hellfire, which, if it keeps going down, there was a good chance of ending up inside its own arse.

Minerva McGonagall has been a teacher at Hogwarts for many years and has certainly seen students from all classes with all kinds of families, personalities and individual problems. So, in theory, she should be versed in dealing with students from all walks of life, but even so, there is always someone in every generation of students, who simply do not fit into any of the classifications made to date. She thought that classification was complete when she had to face the gang led by James Potter and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but it seems that this new generation has its own challenge to her patience. A really serious challenge, it seems, and one that is going to require all her patience and experience as a teacher and head of the one of the house of the school.

“Mr. Weasley”, she asks him, after taking a deep breath and composing herself in her office chair while she rests her forearms on the desk in front of her and leans slightly forward.  “This situation cannot be sustained any longer. Please look at my face as I speak to you”, She demands, causing the furious fire in front of her to be replaced by two blue eyes of surprising intensity despite her youth. “Mrs. Pomfrey has already noticed that you have been visiting Miss Granger in the infirmary every night outside curfew. She understands your concern for her and has been turning a blind eye to it to this day, but this situation is already unacceptable.”

The old teacher cannot help but feel a lump in her throat when she remembers the scene before her just a few hours ago when, at the request of the school nurse; she came to the nursing wing.

There, leaning on the bed occupied by the petrified Miss Granger, it stands amidst a jumble of scrolls of sloppy calligraphy; it was the head, with the traces of crying on his face, of a sleeping Ronald Weasley sitting by the bed while holding his friend's hand.

“Mr. Weasley, from this moment on, you are “expressly" forbidden to go back to the infirmary outside visiting hours and especially outside curfew.”

“But Professor. . .” Minerva is not so much surprised by the interruption as by the vehement and passionate tone in which a hint of despair seems to be hidden. “Hermione has been petrified for weeks. She must be deadly bored, so I go and tell her all the things that happen at school, only the nice ones of course. Like the mandrakes are maturing and she'll soon be fine and how boringLockhart’s classes are or how Harry's great at quidditch and he swept the pitch with Malfoy's stinking ass. . .” and then his face lights up like if he's found the definitive and irrefutable point “... she's been out of class and out of notes for a long time. When they wake her up, she's going to be distraught, so I read her my own while I'm with her. I know they're not as good and fucking perfect as hers. . .” the strict instructor's hair stands up on the back of her neck when she hears such language, but not as much as when she feels the intensity of the feeling shining in the child's eyes and translating it into his words, “...but at least they're something and I'm sure she'll be able to improve them as soon as she starts studying because she's the best in the school, whatever asshole face Malfoy says and. . .”

Minerva's detecting something now. There is loyalty in the child's body language, but in his words, she finds something else - devotion. There is a genuine admiration for his friend, an unwavering desire to help her. Hagrid had told her about the slugs incident, and the teacher's pride in her pupil was burning. Initially, she thought of punishing him, but the Gameskeeper's recounting convinced her that the youngest of the Weasley boys had had enough punishment. McGonagall detected something else also: a threat to anyone who dared to harm her.

“Mr Weasley!” She interrupts him. “I think Professor Dumbledore has explained to you that petrified people feel absolutely nothing”. She uses a calm and instructive tone in an attempt to calm his own distress. “For them time has stopped. When Miss Granger is unpetrified, it will have will be very similar to that of having consumed a sleeping without dreams potion.”

“But she'd certainly be looking at how to help Harry and me if we were the ones petrified and missing class. Right now she would be raiding the library trying to find some way to wake us sooner, even if we were as dry as a one-eyed dragon's eye. She's crazy, I know, but I'm sure she would, and besides”, the intensity in his gaze that existed until that moment, disappears and is replaced by a shadow, while his shoulders fall and his voice descends to something more than a whisper. “Besides, it's the only thing I can do after that stupid idea of the kiss failed so, I'm going to keep doing it no matter what”. At that moment Ronald Weasley seems oblivious to where and with whom he is, giving the impression that those last words are, rather, a reflection out loud to himself.

“Mr Weasley!” The professor suddenly stood and looked with open eyes at a stunned redhead whose facial expression quickly changed from surprise to understanding and from understanding to panic-. “Are you telling me that you abused a helpless. . . ?”

“NOOOO!”  The scream from his mouth was if he had been slapped by the accusation. “No. It's not like you think. . . well, it’s . . . but not. . . I mean, I did kiss her, but it's not like that, it's not like that at all any way.”

“Explain yourself”. McGonagall's voice suffers no kindness. It's a pure ice knife ready to attack as soon slightest transgression it detects.

“Last year Hermione was talking to us about the differences in how muggles understand magic, and she was telling us some muggles stories of spells and curses. One of them tells the story of a woman who seems to fall under a spell so similar to the living dead potion and how she is reanimated, not by a potion, but a kiss! Yes. I know it's crazy and that real magic doesn’t work that way, but I thought. . . FUCK!” The imprecation escapes meanwhile he runs his hands through his hair in a reflex act of desperation over his inability to explain the obvious. “Professor Dumbledore spends his time talking about magic and that it has aspects that are completely unknown and mysterious to us, and my best friend survived to the killing curse from the most evil and powerful wizard of all time so I thought, why not? Maybe the crazy muggles were talking through their hats and written their own version, so there was nothing to lose, so I kissed her on the forehead. I did it for her and because I don't like seeing her like that. That doesn't look like Hermione. That doesn't look like my best friend”, he says, collapsing on the chair with his face in his hands.

With all her years, with all her experience, Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, member of the secret society known as The Order of the Phoenix, cannot help but gaze in disbelief at the revelation. One, which very few have had the opportunity to see in all its grandeur: Rebellion, concern, sacrifice, dedication, tenderness, loyalty, devotion, protection. . . desperation. All from an eleven-year-old boy already irrevocably in love with his schoolmate. Too young to be able to recognize her own feeling and give it a name, but so strong and indestructible that the old teacher can only pray to heaven that Hermione Granger's heart will harbour the same feelings for the impetuous and stubborn Ronald Weasley.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Rated PG-13 #Mod note: Emailed to me and asked to edit #English isn't their first language #I edited only for grammar #Mod Note: Your English is just fine MA

[nikibogwater]

Home Away From Home--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

"She was trying to make the best of it--after all, it wasn’t like Douxie had much else to choose from when he brought her here. But a creature of sunlight and nature could only stand the dank, grey-lit quarters for so long before she began to wilt. "

Nari is struggling to adapt to New York City, but her family is there to remind her where home truly lies.

The companion to The City Never Sleeps. Very, very, VERY extra special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author for both beta reading and talking me through two encounters with writer’s block. This story would not exist without her.

Read on AO3

Or under the cut:

A rundown studio apartment in New York City with drafty windows, moth-eaten carpet, and no air-conditioning was probably the last place one would expect to find an ancient woodland sorceress. Yet this was in fact the very place that Nari of the Eternal Forest had to call her home for the time being. She was trying to make the best of it--after all, it wasn’t like Douxie had much else to choose from when he brought her here. But a creature of sunlight and nature could only stand the dank, grey-lit quarters for so long before she began to wilt. 

Douxie had done everything he could to make it bearable for her, bless him. He bought her a score of houseplants to brighten up the place, subscribed to a gardening magazine, even gave her the only available bedframe so she wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor (which smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and made her sneeze every time she walked in). Winter was just around the corner, and they were lucky to have a roof over their heads at all. At least she had the balcony, where she could easily soak up the sun’s rays for a few hours in the afternoon. And the plants were good company, their spirits always shining with gratitude whenever she tended to them. Archie stayed with her most days as well, and they whiled away the hours together as they waited for Douxie to return each night. Really, it wasn’t that bad, she told herself.

But she was miserable all the same. 

She missed the spacious halls of Camelot castle, the feeling of grass beneath her bare feet, the smell of a forest glade drenched in morning dew. She missed the freedom of roaming wherever she pleased without burdening another with the task of watching over her. She missed having long discussions with Merlin about magic, missed the way he would pat the top of her head gently and call her “my dear” whenever he was in a particularly good mood. She missed the sounds of birdsong in the early morning, missed the days when magic could be felt flowing freely in the wind, missed everything about her life before the Order ruined it and forced her to go into hiding in this dusty mousehole on the top floor of an ugly and dilapidated old building. 

Today was especially bad. It had been cloudy all day, but a dry sort of cloudy, without the promise of refreshing rain. She felt sick and tired, but didn’t want to sate herself on cheap human fare. Archie had been out all night before hunting rats and checking the stasis traps Douxie had set nearby, and though he’d made a heroic effort to stay awake and keep her company, he was now sound asleep on Douxie’s mattress. Her plants were sad today too. Some of them were getting too big for their stands, and she could sense their longing to grow more freely, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Douxie for bigger pots. So she simply sat on the floor beneath one of the drafty windows, in the only patch of dull grey light that was managing to seep into the room, watching the dust motes drift hazily around her. It would be dark soon, but not the pleasant kind of dark, with stars shining above and moonlight stretching across the landscape. The heavy, hazy dark of a city whose lights never dimmed, that never bothered to peer into the beyond and search the stars for their magic. 

She could sense Douxie was happy today, even without having him nearby. His soul was flickering brightly, thrumming with quiet excitement. He had managed to find a better paying job at a bookstore nearby, and was able to come home most evenings now. Yet another reason she couldn’t tell him she felt like she was suffocating here. She didn’t want to ruin the first good thing that had happened to him since he’d gotten stuck with her. She could feel him approaching the apartment now, sense him on the other side of the door, before she heard the jingling of his keys as he undid the magic seals on the door. 

“Good evening, comrades!” He burst into the apartment with all the bravado of a knight fresh from slaying a dragon. Archie groaned and put a paw over his ears. “I come bearing gifts!” He held up a large paper sack in one hand and replaced the seals with the other. Nari plastered a smile on her face and joined him in the kitchen area, where he set his burden down on the grease-stained counter. Archie followed behind her begrudgingly and jumped up on the wizard’s shoulder. 

“A new succulent for the fair forest goddess,” Douxie said brightly, pulling a tiny potted plant out of the bag and presenting it to Nari with a flourish. “A can of tuna for our resident reptilian feline.” 

“It had better be white,” Archie put in as Douxie placed it on the counter. 

“And of course, dinner for the master wizard,” he finished, removing a microwavable lasagna and tossing the bag to the side. 

“What’s got you all excited?” Archie asked, jumping from Douxie’s shoulder to the counter in order to inspect the can of tuna. 

“The assistant manager at the bookstore is being sacked for swiping quid from the cash register and there’s a very good chance I’m going to be taking his place. Which means I’ll be able to drop the part-time gig at the cafe and have Saturdays off.” He ripped open the box in his hand and pulled out the slightly damp-looking lasagna. 

“Every week?” Nari asked, perking up. “For the whole day?” 

“Every week,” Douxie replied, flashing her a grin. “Well, apart from any special circumstances that may arise.” He shoved the tray of lasagna into the microwave and scanned the box for heating instructions. “I can finally take you to Central Park. You’ll love it there, Nari. They say it’s like the forests back home in Camelot. We might even find a Kelpie or two living in the Pond.” 

“Don’t be absurd, Douxie. Kelpies only live in Europe,” Archie said, pawing impatiently at the tuna can. Douxie merely shrugged as he punched the time into the microwave. Nari smiled and looked down at the plant she held in her hands. She doubted any park could compare to the forests of Camelot, but it might be nice to feel real grass beneath her feet again...

...Or perhaps it would only make things worse. A taste of what she was longing for, just enough to reawaken her drooping soul, only for it to be locked back in this birdcage of an apartment. 

Douxie opened the can of tuna for Archie and left him to enjoy it on the counter, while the wizard dropped onto the tatty sofa nearby to wait for his food to finish heating. Nari joined him, still cradling the succulent, clinging to the sensation of Douxie’s aura pulsing and swirling next to her. Archie had an aura of his own, being a wizard’s Familiar, but comforting as it was, it wasn’t the same as the latent power of a true magic-wielder. So she treasured the moments Douxie was nearby, when she could feel a piece of the home she so desperately missed. He leaned back with a satisfied sigh and stared up at the ceiling, leg bouncing impatiently, as his eyes darted from one crack in the plaster to another. 

“...We need a TV,” he said suddenly. “There’s nothing to do here. How do you two even stay occupied all day?” 

“Talk to the plants,” Nari answered. 

“Enjoy the peace and quiet,” Archie put in around a mouthful of tuna. 

“Discuss magic.” 

“Recount embarrassing anecdotes about you.” 

“You what?” Douxie picked his head up off the back of the couch and shot Archie a judgemental look. The Familiar looked up from his tuna long enough to respond with a smug grin, while Nari smothered a giggle with her hand. The microwave beeped before Douxie had a chance to say any more about it, but the wizard did flick Archie’s tuna can out from under his chin as he passed the counter. 

The smell of cheap microwavable pasta burst into the room as Douxie opened the microwave, and Nari had to swallow a gag. It was truly amazing, the kinds of garbage humans could eat without qualms. Douxie even looked eager as he pulled a fork out of a drawer and dug into the tray without bothering to get a plate. He gave a satisfied hum as he chewed and flopped back down on the sofa, balancing the floppy tray on the palm of his hand. Nari shifted further down the couch and tried to focus on her new plant friend instead of the rubbery cheese Douxie was winding around his fork. 

“Nari, did you eat t’day?” he asked through stuffed cheeks. “There wasn’t any sun this afternoon.” 

“I was not hungry,” she replied, not looking up from her succulent. She could feel Douxie stop and stare at her. “I’m fine.” She flashed him what she hoped was her most convincing smile. “Just didn’t have an appetite today.” 

“You should still eat,” Douxie insisted. “Lasagna?” He offered the tray. “There’s enough for two.” 

“No thank you.” She gently pushed his hand back. “I will eat something later.” Douxie continued to scrutinize her for an uncomfortably long moment, hazel eyes fixed determinedly on her face. She was tempted to shapeshift into a flower and fall between the couch cushions. But he would definitely know something was wrong if she started hiding from him. So she went back to gently stroking the leaves of her new friend and ignored him. Finally, he sighed and leaned back, digging into the lasagna once more. 

“What’re you going to call that one?” he asked, gesturing to the succulent with his fork and dripping cheese onto the sofa. 

“It looks like a Beauregarde to me,” Nari answered, relieved that he was letting the previous subject drop. “But I will not know for sure for a few days yet. You have to really know a plant before you can name it.” 

“Whatever you say,” Douxie chuckled, stuffing another bite into his mouth. Silence fell between the three of them as he practically inhaled the rest of his dinner. He dropped the empty tray on the floor at his feet and sank back into the couch with a satisfied groan. “I’d forgotten what it was like to eat dinner before eleven pm.” Archie had emptied his tuna can by now and was lazing contentedly on the counter, washing his face. Douxie stared at the ceiling again for a few minutes, before sitting up again and summoning his guitar. Nari perked up and set the succulent aside, scooting closer to him on the sofa. He strummed a few experimental chords, and Nari could feel his magic rolling and turning with the sound. 

“Douxie, has it occurred to you that perhaps using your staff for band practice could lead to magical accidents?” Archie said from his place on the counter. 

“It’s fine,” Douxie replied distractedly, still focused on his instrument. “I’ll be careful. Besides, I broke my last non-magic axe on a Gumm-Gumm and I can’t afford to replace it yet.” The guitar gave an electric whine as his fingers danced on the strings, drawing a raucous melody from it that sparked like lightning within his aura. Nari could sense his ease and familiarity, the energy with which he played, but she also sensed a touch of melancholy. He’d played in a band back in Arcadia, hadn’t he? That was one of the many things he left behind when he fled with her. He plunged into a series of particularly high chords that made Archie wince and cover his ears and felt like a barrage of icicles striking her ears. 

“I am still not sure if I like this ‘rock music,’” Nari admitted, once he relaxed back into lower, less screechy chords, his aura unwinding from the tight knot it had twisted into and swirling contentedly around him. 

“It’ll grow on you,” Douxie assured her. “Even Archie’s acquired a taste for it.” Gradually, the music lost some of its electricity, and began to flow like water as he coaxed an ancient melody from the strings. 

Suddenly, Douxie’s magic wasn’t just around her; it was inside her. She took in a sharp breath as the familiar tune he was playing opened a door in her mind and flooded her head with memories. She knew this song. She’d heard it back in the days of Camelot. She could see the city now, clearer than in her dreams, see the mother gently swaying her child as she hummed, feel the thatch beneath her bare feet where she was crouched on a rooftop, watching, observing, waiting--

“Douxie!” Archie barked suddenly, and just like that, the image shattered as the music stopped and Douxie looked up at his Familiar with confusion. Archie wasn’t looking at him, however, but was staring fixedly at Nari, who could finally breathe again. “I think you should stop,” he said to the wizard. 

“...No,” Nari pleaded. “Don’t stop...” Her mind told her to stop, to retreat from these memories, but she was like a creature slowly freezing to death desperately grasping at searing flames in order to feel something besides the cold. She looked up to see Douxie giving her a sideways look of concern. “I am fine. Please keep playing.” 

Douxie shifted uncertainly, but readied his fingers on the strings once more. Nari clenched her hands as the song began again. The wizard’s magic rushed out in tandem with the music and slammed into her mind, scraping and digging until all of her most cherished, painful memories were exposed. She could see the wooded glens and meadows blanketed with wildflowers, feel the raw, untempered magic drifting on the wind around her, feel the sense of home, of belonging pounding on the inside of her skull. As though from the end of a long tunnel, she heard Douxie’s soft, untrained voice quietly singing the lyrics in the ancient tongue, and hearing it again felt like wonderful burning knives digging into her heart. 

Burning. Camelot was burning. She could see it now, see the blood spilt around Killahead Bridge, feel the heat of Bellroc’s merciless flames, hear Skreal’s cold cackle mingling with the screams of their victims, feel the dirt and ash beneath her fingernails as she mowed down legions of Arthur’s knights as though they were nothing more than an army of ants beneath her heel. It was too much. Tears were burning beneath her lashes, and she could feel her chest heaving, but there was too much smoke, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t--

“--ri! Nari!” A firm hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her vision, and she heard a tremendous crash and the sound of leaves shuddering, as though a great wind were passing over them. She sucked in a gulp of air, feeling the chill of tear tracks on her face as she opened her eyes. The apartment was in complete disarray, as though someone had come through and ransacked it. Several dishes were lying in pieces in the cupboard, and Douxie’s mattress had been tossed clear across the room. She could feel the spirits of her beloved plants trembling in their pots, and the weight of slowly dissipating magic in the air. “Nari? Nari, what’s wrong?” Douxie was clutching her shoulder frantically, his staff lying forgotten on the floor. “Archie, what happened to her?” 

“This is exactly why I told you not to use your staff for common music-making!” Archie berated him, coming out from behind the counter where he had taken cover. He had shifted into his dragon-form, which meant he must have been startled pretty badly. “Your magic and your music are intertwined. While you are using your staff, there is no separating them, and there is no predicting how they will affect your environment or the people around you.” Douxie snatched his hand from her shoulder as though he’d been burned. 

“Y-you mean I...?” he stuttered, a look of horror dawning across his face. Archie ignored him and leapt up onto the sofa, placing a gentle paw on Nari’s leg.

“Nari, my dear, are you alright?” She heaved a gasping sob and frantically shook her head, hugging herself and trembling as though she had just stepped out of a freezer. 

“What h-happened?” she whispered.

“You’ve had a magical outburst,” Archie soothed. “Douxie’s magic broke open one of your emotional pools and you lost control for a moment. But you’re safe now, and no one was injured.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry!” she wept. “I’m so sorry!” 

“H-hey...Hey, Nari, it’s alright. No harm done,” Douxie murmured, hesitantly reaching for her shoulder again. She shook her head again and sobbed.

“B-Bellroc always used to l-lash out like that a-and I hated it, they always killed so many a-and destroyed so much just because they were angry, and I n-never wanted to be like--”

“Nari, this was nothing like that,” Archie said firmly. “You were reacting to an unexpected magical stimulus, that’s all. You were not lashing out in anger or fear.” 

“B-but I feel so...” She stopped short, swallowing the words that were rising in her throat, suddenly acutely aware of Douxie’s shrunken and paled aura. He was already feeling guilty for his part in this incident. She couldn’t tell him why his music had shaken her the way it did, that it wasn’t only a reaction to his magic, that the problem went far deeper than that. 

“...You feel what, Nari?” Archie encouraged softly. She looked down into his steady golden gaze with tear-blurred eyes, and felt the words smash through the barrier and come tumbling out of her mouth. 

“I feel so sad!” she burst out. “I hate it here, I feel like I am suffocating every minute of the day! I want to go home, back to the forest, I want to feel real grass again, I want--” She choked and couldn’t finish the sentence. She could feel Douxie’s aura twist sharply, as though she had struck him, and it sent a new wave of tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“Nari...” he breathed. “I...” She didn’t let him finish. She could feel his aura pulling away from her, feel him closing off because of his guilt, and like a starving animal whose only food was about to be taken away, she lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and burying her face in his shirt, refusing to lose the one of the few pieces of home she still had. He stiffened, but she only clung to him tighter, muffling a wail in his jacket. A moment later, she felt his arms tentatively settle around her, his left hand coming up to cup the back of her head. “...Alright, easy,” he whispered. “Easy, Nari, that’s it...I’ve got you.” She sniveled furiously against his chest, wishing she was a more delicate crier. “Um....Archie, put the kettle on, will you?” he spoke over the top of her head. His hand moved from her head to her shoulder, where his thumb rubbed a few gentle circles. “That’s all you need, a good hot cuppa.” Nari choked out a half-laugh, half-sob. 

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry I am not happy here. I know you are doing your best.” She felt him shrug. 

“Frankly, I’d be a bit concerned if you were happy in this dustbin. I know this isn’t the best place for you, and I’m sorry we’re stuck here. But this isn’t permanent, I promise. Soon as I have enough stashed away, we’ll get a nice little place in the suburbs somewhere, with a garden. I can’t...I can’t bring back Camelot for you.” She felt his aura dim slightly, and heard the unsaid I wish I could. “But I will make things better for us. I promise.” 

“Kettle’s on,” Archie said as he strode back over to them, returning to his cat form. “Douxie’s right, Nari.” He hopped up on the sofa beside her, and she felt him nuzzle against her elbow. “This isn’t permanent. You’ll be out in the sun again soon.” Nari gave a long, drawn out sniffle and nodded. “I think perhaps in the meantime it would be best if you practiced out on the balcony, Douxie,” Archie continued. “At least until you can acquire an instrument that won’t channel your magic.” 

“No,” Nari said suddenly, pulling back. “I wasn’t ready the first time but...I want to hear that song again. It...When I heard it, I could see home, really see it. And it hurt but...” She paused, looking between Archie and Douxie. “...but it also helped. I do not feel the sorrow pressing down so heavily now.” 

“...Are you sure?” Douxie asked. She nodded, scrubbing away the last of her tears from her cheek. “Well...I can never say no to a free audience.” He picked up his staff from the floor, and it shifted back into his guitar. “I’m not as sensitive as you are, so keep your hand on me so I can feel your aura,” he said. “If I feel your magic starting to overflow, I can stop.” Nari nodded and placed her hand on his shoulder. Archie climbed into her lap and settled there with a purr. Douxie sent her one more questioning glance, and she responded with an encouraging smile. 

The chords were gentler this time, and Douxie’s magic moved slowly, almost timidly, around him. His eyes darted rapidly between the strings and Nari’s face, watching for any sign of distress. But she leaned against him and closed her eyes, letting the images of home dance behind her lids as his airy and somewhat wobbly voice hesitantly joined guitar’s. The fields, the lakes, the city, drifted in and out of her mind like friends passing by, and though she felt the ache of homesickness, it wasn’t sharp or burning like the first time. It felt...bittersweet. 

Then, a new image joined the old; a boy, far older than he looked, in dark clothing, with a black cat on his shoulder, both smiling down at her as they started their new life together. 

Camelot may have been her home once, but now it was gone. Yet she wasn’t lost. She had a new home right here in her arms. And as the kettle on the stove began to whistle and Douxie reached the end of the song, she felt certain that this home was far better than the last.

#tales of arcadia #toa #wizards: tales of arcadia #wizards: toa #fanfiction #douxie is an excellent big brother #archie is a therapy cat #and nari is a plant mom #found family feels

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Thirteen

so,,,, hello!!!

firstly i apologise for how long this took me,,, university has been a nightmare and a blessing all in one and my sleep pattern is still getting worse that being said,, here (finally) is chapter thirteen! to those of you who have been waiting eagerly and showing your support, i thank you so much for giving me the motivation to keep this series going, lots of love - hades x

Prophecy Masterlist wc;2825

The next morning, Hongjoong called you, Yeosang and Wooyoung into his office to discuss your temporary residence. He had stood before you, like a teacher lecturing his naughty students and informed you that under no circumstances were any of you to perform magic.

Easy for you, you thought. You didn't even know how to use it.

"Witch hunters will be able to trace you if they detect any magical source coming from the kingdom," The king explained. "If there is rumour of any magic beings within my court, the other kingdoms will pick up on it immediately, and it will result in bloodshed."

The way Hongjoong had looked at the three of you as he instructed you was terrifying. It was bordering on begging, and deeper behind his golden eyes he looked frightened. And you supposed you would be too, if you had to go to war for such a ridiculous reason.

You could barely comprehend the thought of Yeosang and Wooyoung being killed just because they were non-human. It made it worse how they insisted it was okay because they were 'used to it', as if that justified anything.

Still, they complied to the king's request and agreed to not use any magic within the kingdom, especially in the castle and the grounds.

"We've managed to cover up your appearance here yesterday, so you don't need to be concerned about that. However, I am half tempted to charge you for causing emotional damage to my kingsguard. You gave him quite the fright."

You stifled a laugh at hearing the extent of Seonghwa's reaction to your intrusion, the scary kingsguard perhaps being much softer in demeanour than you had initially thought.

After the briefing, Hongjoong had dismissed you to once again talk over the prophecy with Yeosang and Wooyoung.

The astrologer had informed you that they were making steady progress, they had deciphered some of the constellation meanings and were working on how to avoid the outcomes of their predictions.

"It's very easy to avoid a war," Wooyoung had scoffed that morning whilst tying up his boot laces. "We needn't worry about the Ara constellation because we simply just do not engage in a war."

"But what if somebody goes to war with us?" You asked timidly, staring nervously at the floor.

Wooyoung paced over to you and gently raised your chin with the tip of his finger.

"We won't go to war, Iris. Nobody has any reason to go to war with us. Besides, you'd probably be more worried about the Ball than fighting in a battle."

He had ruffled your hair and swiftly left the room, leaving you gazing at the ceiling with a feeling in your chest you couldn't quite understand. Something had changed with you and Wooyoung recently; he'd been standing closer to you than usual, smiling at you more, being kinder than he used to and truthfully you had no idea what to make of it.

You thought that maybe he felt more comfortable in your presence considering you had to share a room with him.

But that didn't excuse the way your heart raced and stomach fluttered whenever he would flash his killer smile at you or whined like a puppy when you refused to share any of the cook's baked treats with him.

Your current course of action was to completely ignore every single one of those feelings. Either that or take a visit to Yunho and get him to perform a medical examination on you, because you were absolutely convinced you were dying slowly from the inside out. Had some kind of magical parasite burrowed into your skin while you slept and had gradually been sucking the life out of you without you noticing? Or maybe some evil witch had snuck into the kitchens, managed to figure out which delicious looking apple you had been eyeing up the previous afternoon, poison it and cackle mysteriously as she watched you take a giant bite of the apple through the window?

Or perhaps you had been reading too many fairytales and storybooks.

That was probably it.

Yet, you couldn't help yourself. Not when Hongjoong's castle had such a beautiful library, full to the brim with all ranges of books. Even though there was such an extensive selection, immediately you were drawn to the wonderfully illustrated tales of woeful princesses stuck in their towers, powerful dragons aiming to conquer worlds and daring wizards yearning for adventure.

You had yet to find a book about an angry king and his weak-hearted kingsguard, but you didn't really need to read a fictional account to experience that.

It wasn't like you had much to do either; the ball was still a few weeks away and you still weren't allowed to help Yeosang and Wooyoung with the prophecy under Hongjoong's guidance. You saw less and less of Mingi as his lute practice was being upped due to the fast-approaching ball. So you spent most of your days holed up in the corner of the typically empty library.

In fact, that was exactly what you planned on spending the whole day doing.  

You raced down the intricately decorated hallways of the castle, brushing your fingertips against the crimson velvet sashes that hung from ceiling to floor. Sunlight filtered in gently through the stained-glass windows, leaving rainbow shards on the plush rugs underneath your boots. In time, you're outside the familiar library door, a much cooler shade of oak than the other doors in this hallway, you notice. It's smoother to the touch too, like whoever designed this room centuries ago took special care in it's creation.

Pushing the door open, you enter the library. The scent is slightly dusty, with a lingering smell of untouched parchment and slowly decaying leather. The room itself is huge, bookshelves line the walls from top to bottom, almost encaging you in with towers of tales and stories hidden within leather-bound shells. The wall to your right is bare of shelves, in its space is a large bay window, with a cushioned area for somebody to sit and read. Coincedentally, your favourite place to lounge and waste the day away getting lost in foreign, mystical worlds.

Unfortunately, your seat appears to be occupied.

"Excuse me," you call politely, making your way over to the lounging figure who has their nose buried in a book. "You're sitting in my spot."

His attention snaps to yours lightening fast. So fast that you're shocked he didn't give himself whiplash or any other injury.

His gaze, much like his face and eyes, are narrow. Slender cheekbones and an unimpressed scowl are directed your way and the feeling of regret settles deep in your core.

"Your spot?" He repeats with a scoff. "And who are you to claim this seat?"

He sets his book down onto the soft window-seat, and swings his long legs round so he can stand up. Even from a distance, you can tell he's got a considerable amount of height on him. Everything about him is slim; his nose, jaw, torso. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and you notice he makes little to no sound. Agile, you think. He reminds you of a cat, his attentive gaze unwavering from your puzzled face, the way he moves concise and utterly silent. Unruly, raven black hair swept atop his head and glittering golden eyes evoke memories of the black cats from home. Slinking quietly through the market stalls, stalking mice or keeping an eye out for danger.

"Iris, right?" he asks.

You nod. "Ye-"

"Wrong." He interrupts you before you finish speaking, and he's standing right before you. So close that if you look up you can see every fleck of fire in his eyes.

"W-what? What do you mean?"

"Your name isn't Iris at all, is it?"

How does he know that?

He smirks at you, thinking he's figured out your deepest darkest secret.

"No, it isn't. How did you know? Did Yeosang tell you?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you, because I don't trust you. Hongjoong may have let you and your friends into the castle without batting an eyelid, but I'm not as easily fooled as him."

"I don't know what you think I'm planning," you glare at him, astounded that he's actually accusing you of plotting something. "But you're greatly mistaken."

He remains silent for a few moments as he eyes you up and down, taking in your hand-me-down clothes (a mixture of Wooyoung and Yeosang's) and untidy, unkempt hair.

"When our name is called," he begins to explain. "We have a physical reaction. Our eyes light up, our ears perk up, our head swivels round as we try to identify who is calling for us."

"Your point?" Somehow you find it in you to challenge him, despite the fact his glare is weighing down on you so heavily you think your knees might actually buckle with pressure.

"You do none of these things when your name is called."

"Okay. So you know that Iris isn't my real name. Yeosang knows that too. Now what?"

"I think if you're going to be living in this castle, free of charge, without doing any work to earn your keep, the least you can do is give me your real name."

In any other circumstance, you would've told him to stick it. Probably with a punch, too. But there's something so intimidating about him, something so covertly dangerous that you can't decipher.

"And why should I tell you that when I don't even know your  name?" you bite back, and you see the spark of realisation on his face that he is also a complete stranger to you.

"San." he replies simply.

"Haneul." you answer.

"Haneul?" San echoes. "You don't seem like a Haneul."

"People used to call me Hana."

"Hana? Like the number one?"

You nod.

"Yeosang just gave me the name Iris when I met him, by the way." A part of you felt compelled to explain why you were going by a different alias. Not that you owed San anything anyway. After all, he had been incredibly rude to you despite having met literally five minutes ago.

"And you didn't think to correct him?"

"Evidently not."

San rolls his eyes at your curt response, shaking his head a little and pushing his cheek from the inside with his tongue, the same way that Wooyoung does when he gets annoyed with you. You think that they'd probably get on quite well.

"So, do you actually do anything around here?" You throw the questions back in San's direction, feeling quite fed up of being interrogated for one day. "Or do you make a habit of ambushing young women in libraries and demanding their life stories?"

He gives you another unimpressed look before he goes back over to his book at the window-seat.

"I'm the Ateez court jester," he answers you calmly. "I entertain company with jokes, stories, songs, you name it."

"A jester? I thought you wore silly costumes and hats with bells on?"

San scowls at you from across the room. Does he actually know how to smile?

"You read too much." He deadpans. "I'm not a character in a storybook. I'm a person who has a job like everyone else here. I wear ordinary clothes, I don't wear a hat, and I do more than just tell jokes."

San crosses the room with an air of anger, yet he still manages to walk gracefully without making a sound. He places his book back on the shelf, then approaches you at the door.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to prepare material for."

You side-step out of the way, and San slips past you and you listen as the soft pattering of his footsteps gradually fade, and then disappear altogether.

What the f-

"Oh, there you are!"

Wooyoung's lanky frame comes barreling into you, the slight panic laced in his voice making you worry.

"Here I am," you confirm. "What's wrong?"

"Hongjoong wants to see you." He breathes. "About the prophecy."

-----

"I've already told you! I don't know anything more than you do!"

Hongjoong had summoned you into his office, and the atmosphere in the room told you everything you needed to know. You could cut through it with a knife. A strong knife though, as the tension was so thick a regular butter knife wouldn't dent it one little bit. And the way Hongjoong was leaning against his desk with his arms fully stretched out, head hanging down and exhaling out of his nose like a furious cattle ready to charge.

You assumed that perhaps their work wasn't going swimmingly.

"The deadline to solve this is approaching fast, thief. Do you understand that? My people will die if we don't crack this soon."

"What exactly do you want me to do about it?" You angrily retort. "If you've forgotten, you've kept me in the dark for weeks!"

"Because you were of no use." Hongjoong replies simply. He wanders around the side of his desk and meanders his way to stand in front of you, his arms loosely behind his back.

"However, seeing as it was you who intially offered to help with the prophecy, I thought that perhaps reverting to our roots would prove more fruitful." He lowers himself slightly and stares at you directly with his dangerous, poisonous gaze.

His demand renders you silent. You stand frozen in his office, the worried glances of Yeosang and Wooyoung piercing into the back of your skull. You will your mouth to open and scream internally at yourself to speak, to say absolutely anything you can conjure to get out of the situation but nothing comes. Finally, the web of lies you've been spinning since day one is about to unravel itself.

And you can do nothing except for watch.

Is this where you get caught out? After so long? You were beginning to like it here too; the beautiful garden, getting closer to Wooyoung, making friends with Mingi. You had even planned to ask him to teach you how to play the lute. Hell, even making enemies with San was something you were looking forward to. And you hadn't tried the cook's famous apple pie that Mingi raved about. No. No, instead Hongjoong was going to catch out your lies, the stories you had told him and he was going to lock you up in the prison under the castle for the rest of your life. You were going to die, ancient, magicless, friendless, alone, all because you couldn't just tell the damn truth. What were you doi-

"What if it isn't a man?" your tongue expertly blurts out the first thing your racing brain can pluck out of thin air to try and save your back, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking out in shock.

"What do you mean?" Hongjoong asks, with genuine curiousity written across his features.

"Well, the prophecy says Man, doesn't it? But you've been taking it literally. As in, A Man. But what if it means anyone from the human race?"

Hongjoong stands stunned before you for a few seconds, as if he physically cannot comprehend what you have suggested.

"Are you suggesting that a woman will destroy my kingdom?"

"I-, well, no-"

"I think what Iris is trying to say," Yeosang pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against and approaches you and Hongjoong. "Is that we should broaden our horizons a little bit. You know, branch out from searching monstrously powerful men. Look into witches, sirens, even dragons and the like."

"None of those are human, mage." Hongjoong sneers.

Yeosang merely shrugs in response.

"Just a suggestion. Besides, Iris is right. It doesn't state a singular man. The gods haven't always made sense, have they? Perhaps expanding our criteria would be a good thing."

"It could also be somebody disguised as a human," Wooyoung pipes up. "Like a shape-shifter or even a halfling."

"Halfling?" you echo, confused.

"Somebody that is half human and half something else." Yeosang explains. "So a half human half elf would be called a halfling, as would a half human half giant and so on."

"So you really think that we might have something worse than a human on our hands?" Hongjoong asks. He nibbles his bottom lip in a way that makes you concerned for him. It's that moment you remember that he is an exceedingly young king, and that at times he's probably way out of his depth.

He pulls his tawny fur coat tighter over his shoulders and straightens up his posture. It reminds you of a wild fox, and his mannerisms in themselves remind you of a fox cub too. He moves quietly (a running theme of the key figures in this castle, you've noticed), and when he's calm he appears very serene.

You, Wooyoung and Yeosang all nod, and Hongjoong takes that as a sign to proceed.

"Very well. I will have orders out to search and interrogate anyone, and anything that seems suspicious. Let's hope we're right."

Yeah, you exhale. Let's hope I'm right.

#retroateez #medieval au #medieval!ateez #hongjoong #seonghwa #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #yunho #jongho #ateez

[the-golden-ghost]

The Wizards™: The Men, The Myths, the Mentors

So it’s a well known fact (at least, NOW it is) that the wizards mentored each other, yes? So how did that go, you ask? Well...

Marsha: Marsha trained herself. Prior to her, there were no other wizards so there was nobody around to teach her. How she unlocked the Ancient and Arcane Secrets of the Magical Realm are unknown to everyone, including her, since she was already 64 years old when she did and she’s forgotten a thing or two since then, anyway. Heck. And who cares? At this point there’s PLENTY of people around to train any newbies.

Wurm: Marsha’s apprentice. He wasn’t even supposed to be a wizard apprentice. He just came into her swamp for Depression Reasons after running away from the village since he couldn’t find a job there. So Marsha was like “cool you can dust my potion bottles” and from thenceforth, Wurm Dusted Her Potion Bottles. A decade and a half later, he’d actually figured out enough magic from her to be able to be called... if not a wizard, then something resembling one. At that point Marsha thought there might be value in having a runner-up and getting all the annoying humans off her tail for once. His full training took about 90 years in total, longer than any other wizard, but Wurm is nothing if not a slow learner.

Vesper: Oftentimes villagers would come to visit Wurm. He was amicable, generous, and lived right nearby. It was way better than trekking for three days out into a dangerous swampland only for Marsha to throw a saucepan at you and tell you to get lost. Vesper was no exception. The youngest child of a large family, they were the one sent on the most errands to “go find that weird old Cave Wizard and ask him for a favor.” On these trips, Vesper would ask questions. And the more questions Vesper had, the more they wanted to know. 

Once grown, Vesper displayed a talent for magic. This was what prompted Wurm to offer them an apprenticeship, and they accepted. It was clear early that not only were they much brighter and more skilled than either Wurm or Marsha, but that they were learning more quickly than their mentor could teach them. Wurm was patient, kind, and always supportive, but Vesper needed to be challenged, and perhaps needed a mentor who was miles ahead of them... someone to live up to. All the same, they did their best with what they had, but quickly outgrew Wurm’s instruction and began to try to answer their own questions as best they could.

Infernus: “Infernus the Invincible” discovered that he was going to be a wizard when he was 16 and managed to start a fire so destructive that he was immediately expunged from the village and sacrificed to Vesper the Night Wizard.

Rather than eating him or using him for dragon bait, Vesper offered him an apprenticeship in an act of surprising offhandedness. So began one of the least successful apprenticeships of all six. Infernus and Vesper were just not suited. Vesper was impatient, direct, strict, and challenging to the point of impossibility. Fernie’s skills were no match for Vesper’s on the best of days, and as time wore on with little progress on his part, he grew resentful and jealous and eventually started to withdraw and give up on learning anything. He did manage to become a wizard in spite of it all, but remains one of the weakest and most reclusive of the seven.

Sylvetta: Infernus never intended to train anyone so for a long time it seemed like there would only be the four. But no.

Sylvetta decided when she was young that she WOULD be a wizard someday and when she grew up, she went to Fernie’s home and camped just outside, insisting she would not leave until he trained her. So began a LONG vigil of sixteen months and twelve days, but she got what she wanted.

Lucky for Sylvetta, Fernie’s teaching style of “literally I don’t care do whatever you want” worked well for her. Unluckily for everyone else, Sylvetta was willing to push the envelope to places it should possibly not be pushed. They found themselves with the first truly dangerous ally they’d ever had on their hands, and no one really knew what to do about it.

Casmius: Casmius should never have been trained. Sylvetta simply wanted an heir, a legacy, someone to pass on her brilliance and wisdom to and continue her work. She hand-picked Casmius from the village because she recognized in him a spark of devil-may-care and dogged determination that she loved and saw in herself.

What she didn’t notice - or chose to overlook - was his violent and cruel nature. After bribing and begging the other wizards to let her have an apprentice, Sylvetta took Casmius under her wing. It went horribly. Casmius was angry and volatile from the beginning, lashing out when he wasn’t able to do a task perfectly or when Sylvetta told him to do anything he didn’t want to do. Under her instruction he gained exceptional power, but was furiously envious of her ability to create life. Eventually he simply abandoned her set off to wreak havoc upon the world.

Illumina: After everything that went down with Casmius it was decided: No More Wizards Ever.

This lasted for two and a half centuries until Wurm discovered a young girl with exceptional magical talent and a good disposition. “It will be different” he told the others. “We’re not going to let her turn into another Casmius. Because this time we won’t be putting her under a single mentor and hoping for the best. This time we’ll all train her together.”

And so Illumina was trained in part by all six of her predecessors. As a result her magical talent became varied and adaptable, and she can rival Vesper for sheer power. A good ending, perhaps, to what could have otherwise ended in a very dark and destructive way.  

#Wizard World #if anyone reads all this: I adore you

[itsyourchoice-hp]

Year 2: Disarming Spells and Dangerous Creatures

At ten o’clock that night, Cath pulled the curtains of her four-poster bed shut around her and flopped down on her bed. She had forgotten how tiring classes could be, and Professor Snape and Professor Sinistra (the Astronomy professor) had already assigned homework on the second day of classes.          

Cath fell asleep thinking about her timetable for the next day. Herbology… Transfiguration… Defence Against the Dark Arts…

***

It couldn’t have been more than a few hours that Cath was asleep when she woke up with a jolt as someone screamed.          

The other girls in their dorm started whispering.           

“What happened?” someone asked.

The lights went on and Cath blinked as she opened her curtains, trying to adjust her eyes to the light. All the other girls were out of their beds with wide eyes, except for Ginny.

Cath saw two of them exchange uncomfortable glances. “Just go back to bed,” Cath said to them, feeling defensive of Ginny. Cath went over to Ginny’s bed as everyone returned to their own. “Ginny?” she whispered.

She could hear her sniffing on the other side of the curtains. “I’m fine,” she replied, her voice shaking.

“Open the curtain,” Cath said.

After a moment, the curtain opened a crack. Ginny sat there with her knees hugged against her chest. It was clear that she was crying, but now she had her jaws set and her eyes on the bed in front of her.

“Are you okay?” Cath asked hesitantly.

 She nodded. “I’m fine… I’m fine.” It sounded as though she were trying to convince herself of the fact. Then she sighed and said in a quiet voice, “I’ve been having nightmares.”

“Let’s go down to the Common Room,” Cath suggested. They got up and silently exited the dormitory, heading down the spiral staircase on tip toes. Once they were seated in comfortable chairs in front of the dying fire, she waited for Ginny to start, not knowing how exactly to approach the subject.

“I started getting nightmares during the summer,” Ginny finally said after a lengthy silence. “About everything last year with… You-Know-Who. I think my parents thought they would stop after a while, but they haven’t.”

Cath hadn’t even thought about how hard life must be for Ginny. She had spent her first year of Hogwarts being manipulated and possessed by Lord Voldemort, forced to do whatever he asked her to do. Suddenly Cath’s worrying over the fact that she had been sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin last year seem small and unimportant.

“I’m not mad,” Ginny said.

“Of course you’re not!” Cath replied. “I’ve never thought that.”

“Some people do,” Ginny said, frowning and staring at the embers in the giant fireplace. “People treat me differently now. Like I’m fragile. Like I’ve snapped.”

“I don’t think you’re fragile,” Cath told her. She wasn’t sure what good her words would do, but she felt like she had to say something to her. “It takes an incredibly strong person to make it through what you did.”

Ginny looked up at her and smiled. “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry about those other girls. They’ll see it too,” said Cath. She yawned widely and glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. When she saw that it read two-twenty, she realized just how tired she was.

“I suppose we should go to bed now,” Ginny said through a yawn. “We only have five hours and forty minutes until breakfast.”

***

The next morning, Cath woke up wanting classes to start. Everyone had been raving about Professor Lupin and how he was the best professor at Hogwarts. He was sure to be better than their last Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy Lockhart.

Cath smiled and shook her head as she remembered when he had attempted a memory charm on her, Ron and Harry with Ron’s broken wand. The spell had ended up backfiring, and Gilderoy Lockhart was now at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries being treated for his memory loss.

Herbology and Transfiguration seemed to drag on. At last, after lunch break, Ginny and Cath hurried together to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Most of the students arrived before the bell even rang. At last, Professor Lupin entered. He wore a dark blue knitted jumper with a white dress shirt and tie underneath, and the same worn trousers and shoes as he had worn on the train. He walked with his head down and shoulders slightly hunched in a way that made him look old and weak.

He stepped forward to face the class, into the full light with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. He looked about in his thirties, but the way he dressed and held himself made him look older. A few students started whispering — the bright sunlight highlighted three faint scars that drew from one side of his forehead down until they were concealed under his clothes.

“Are you always this early to class? Or do I already have an impression I have to live up to?” he asked us, causing the students to laugh and start to relax in their chairs. “My name is Professor Lupin, as you know from the Opening Feast. I was a student at Hogwarts like you, not too long ago… although I hope none of you got into as much trouble as I did with my friends.”

“Have you met my brothers?” Ginny joked.

The class laughed, along with Professor Lupin. Cath wished she had Ginny’s wit and confidence.

“You must be the youngest Weasley, then,” Lupin said knowingly. “I thought we’d start off the year with something fun. Our first unit is the foundations of duelling, an essential skill to any witch or wizard. Your wands possess power, but duelling is about quick thinking, creativity and precision. I’m going to teach you a few basic spells that will prove to be very helpful in duelling. The first is the Disarming Spell. If you’ll please turn to page twelve in your textbooks…”

Cath was already rapidly interested. She couldn’t wait to start learning how to use these spells.

“We all know theory is the most boring part,” Professor Lupin said after they had finish going through the section on the textbook and practicing the arm movement without their wands. “But without it, how can we put what we’ve learned to practice? Now, everyone out of your chairs and have your wands out.”

The students obeyed. Cath eagerly pulled her wand out of her bag. She remembered that she loved the way it sounded when Olivander presented it to her at the wand shop before she started her first year at Hogwarts. “Aspen, thirteen inches, with a dragon heartstring core.”

Professor Lupin cleared a wide aisle in the middle of the room and instructed everyone to line up. People bumped and squeezed to try and be first in line, excited to practice this new spell. “Remember the motion! Focus on pushing your energy through your hand and into your wand,” he said to them.

A few students were able to disarm Professor Lupin. He kept giving everyone pointers along the way and had everyone clap for whoever had just gone. At last it was Cath’s turn.

She planted her feet firmly with her wand at the ready, like she imagined people would do during a duel. She raised her wand and said confidently, “Expelliarmus!” remembering the arm movement.

To her delight, Professor Lupin’s wand shot out of his hand and into her own. He even stumbled backwards a bit from the force of her spell. He clapped enthusiastically for her and the rest of the class joined in.

“Excellent, Cathryn!” he said as he stepped forward to take his wand back. “Great form. Next!”

Cath stood there stupidly for a moment, wondering how he knew her name, before Ginny poked her in the back.

“Sorry,” she said, going to the back of the line.

The students were all buzzing with excitement at the end of class. Professor Lupin had definitely exceeded all of their expectations. Defence Against the Dark Arts was definitely Cath’s favourite class so far.

“He’s so mysterious,” Ginny said with a dreamy smile to Cath and a few other girls.

They giggled and left the classroom. Cath took her time putting her things back into her bag until she was the last one left in class. Professor Lupin used his wand to rearrange the desks back into order and erase the blackboard absentmindedly, looking like he was deep in thought about something.

“Professor?” she asked timidly.

“Very well done today Cathryn,” he told her, quickly erasing his thoughtful frown with a kind smile. His eyes were light blue, with a ring of chocolate brown closest to his pupils. “I think you have a knack for duelling.”

“Thank you!” she replied, feeling excitement and pride rise inside of her. “Professor, I was wondering, how did you know my name?”

“I’m well acquainted with your parents,” he replied.

Cath frowned. “Really? I had no idea, neither have them have mentioned you before.”

For a moment, Professor Lupin looked like she had caught him off guard. “Ah - well, your father is quite well known at the Ministry. And I’ve er - done some work there.”

She nodded, but still found it quite strange that he would be well acquainted with her parents. Professor Lupin looked like someone that her father would cross the street in order to avoid.

“You’re friends Ms. Weasley?” he asked conversationally. “And if I’m not mistaken, her older brother, Potter, and Granger?”

Cath nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“A good bunch,” Professor Lupin smiled. “Friends are the most important thing about Hogwarts. They become like family. But of course, if anyone asks, your marks should be top priority.”

Cath laughed, warming up to him. “Noted,” she replied.

A few older students started to trickle into the classroom and Professor Lupin nodded his head at her. “Good day, Cathryn.”

“Good day,” she replied.

On her way to the Gryffindor Common Room, she passed Draco who was flanked by two large, stupid looking boys. She recognized both of them, Vincent and Gregory. Their parents were good friends with her and Draco’s. Usually, she just called them the Trolls. Draco’s eyes passed over Cath as they walked by, but he made no acknowledgement that she was there.

She tried not to let it bother her; Draco loved attention in every way, shape and form. He always had. Perhaps Slytherins didn’t like being seen with their younger sisters. Sometimes she was shocked at just how different they were.

Cath was cheered up right away when she received a wave from Ron upon entering the Common Room. With Ron sat Harry, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George and the twins’ friend Lee Jordan.

Hermione was buried in a textbook, not surprising, while the rest of the group was watching as Fred, George and Lee presented a various array of sweets and prank supplies on a large table.

Cath sat down and opened her Potions textbook, hoping to get a start on her homework. Of course, Fred, George and Lee proved to be a bit of a distraction.

“These here,” Fred held up a candy in a green wrapper and grinned excitedly. “Will give you green spots all over your face.”

“How long do they last?” Harry asked.

He shrugged. “Days? A week at the most.”

“Why would you want green spots all over your face?” Ron asked, frowning at the candy.

“Obviously you wouldn’t take it yourself, Ron, don’t be daft,” George said as if it were obvious. “It’s for your enemies. We’ve been dreaming up a way to get old Snape to take one.”

“He could probably make a potion to cure it in minutes,” said Hermione from behind her textbook.

“You’re no fun,” Fred said teasingly.

“What’s this?” Ginny asked, picking up a brown, circular object.

“You won’t want to handle that with bare hands,” Lee warned her.

Ginny set it down immediately and looked at her hand, which was now covered in dirt. “Ugh,” she grimaced. She tried to wipe the dirt off on the couch, but to her dismay it wouldn’t come off

“That, dear friends is a dungbomb,” Fred informed them. “A staple in the prankster’s arsenal. Don’t worry, Gin, that’ll wear off in a few hours.”

“Nasty little buggers, those are,” George added. “Don’t know how we would have made it through at Hogwarts without them.”

“You’ve got to be gentle with them,” Lee said, seeing Ron look curiously at it, even prodding it with a finger. “I once had one go off in my trunk on the train. The smell was in my clothes for weeks!”

Cath and the others laughed at him. Eventually, when a game of Exploding Snap, her favourite card game, was brought out, she put her textbook away and chose to put her Potions homework off for another night.

***

Saturday afternoon found Cath and Harry waving goodbye to Ron, Hermione and Draco who were on their way to Hogsmeade in the pouring rain. Cath could see Harry staring enviously after them, his unsigned permission form crumpled in his hand. After several attempts to persuade Professor McGonagall to let him go, he had given up and joined Cath where she stood on the steps overlooking the entrance.

Cath didn’t say anything until the carriages had departed from the castle. “You don’t suppose they’ll bring us anything back?”

“If they remember,” Harry replied glumly, turning back into the castle.

Cath followed him nervously. She almost wondered if she should be with him. She’d only ever been around Draco’s friends when they were in a group. A part of her didn’t want to steal them from him, but the other part felt like they were her friends too. But being just with one of them felt different. Especially Harry, the Boy Who Lived, of all people.

“So, your uncle and aunt,” Cath said, hurrying to find something to talk about. “They’re Muggles?”

“In every sense of the word,” Harry replied. “They are the most normal, boring people you could ever meet.”

“You could have asked another relative to sign your form, couldn’t you?” Cath asked.

“I don’t have any other living relatives,” Harry replied. “That I know of, anyways. My uncle and aunt are the only ones.”

“Oh,” Cath said stupidly. “I’m sorry. That must be awful.”

Harry shrugged. “It was worse before I knew I was a wizard. Now I can at least threaten them with magic if they’re being really awful. They’re absolutely terrified.”

Cath laughed. “Are all Muggles like that?”

“Don’t you know any?” Harry asked.

Cath shook her head. “No, I don’t. My parents don’t have any non-magic friends. And my father works at the Ministry, so we don’t have any reason to go outside the Wizarding World, really. Unless we take a trip into London, or go on vacation or something.”

Cath tried not to stare at the lightning shaped scare on Harry’s forehead, so instead she focused on his glasses. She hadn’t really noticed his eyes before. They looked exactly like hers, a bright emerald green. She wondered which of his parents he got them from. Cath and no idea where she got her green eyes from; her mothers were brown and her fathers were grey just like Draco’s.

“You’re lucky,” Harry said wistfully, bringing Cath back out of her thoughts. “The Muggle world doesn’t compare. I wish I’d grown up in the Wizarding World.”

“Well,” said Cath. “At least your aunt and uncle let you come to Hogwarts.”

Harry smiled. “They almost stopped me. If it weren’t for Hagrid, I probably wouldn’t have gone.”

Hagrid was the giant gamekeeper of Hogwarts who had a passion for wild and exotic animals that any other person would find incredibly dangerous. This year he had taken a teaching position for Care of Magical Creatures, which was a class that students could start taking in Third Year.

“My aunt and uncle wanted to escape from all the Hogwarts letters we’d been receiving,” Harry said. “So, they took my cousin Dudley and I out to this tiny island to what they said was a rustic cabin. It really was just a rundown shack. But that night, Hagrid showed up to take me to Hogwarts. He broke down the door and twisted my uncles’ gun into a giant knot—”

“Gun…?” Cath asked, wondering what on earth that word meant.

“Oh, right,” Harry said. “It’s a Muggle weapon. Hey — would you want to visit Hagrid? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. And he rarely gets visitors. If you’re lucky you’ll get to try one of his rock cakes.”

Cath agreed, and so the two of them went outside, pulling the hoods of their cloaks up as the rain continued to pour outside. She felt fear like ice in her stomach as the Dementors floated around the grounds, like big black ghosts.

“They’re awful, aren’t they?” said Harry, quickening his steps as they made their way down the hill. “Black had better be caught soon.”

“I can’t believe he escaped,” Cath remarked. “Nobody’s ever escaped Azkaban. Going there is basically like getting a death sentence. People aren’t the same after they arrive.”

As she said this, Cath had a sudden memory of a woman on the cover of the Daily Prophet years ago. She had wild, black hair, pale skin and crazed eyes. In the picture, she held her prisoner number and laughed maniacally, shackled at her wrists and her ankles. It was her Mother’s sister, Bellatrix. Cath could only vaguely remember her, save for her picture in the Prophet, but her mother had explained to her and Draco that her sister had done some very bad things and was going to Azkaban so that she could learn not to do those things anymore.

Of course, now Cath actually knew what Azkaban was — what a terrible, dark place it was and that it was a place where the darkest of witches and wizards who had committed the worst of crimes went. She wondered what her Aunt Bellatrix had done that had landed her in that place.

“Could Black even get into Hogwarts? There are enchantments around the gates, aren’t there?” Harry asked.

“He killed twelve people with one spell. He sounds like a pretty powerful wizard to me…” Cath said. She shivered, perhaps from the cold or perhaps from the icy chill that the Dementors seemed to bring as they floated around the grounds.

Harry and Cath approached a house on the edge of the Forest. Cath now understood why people called it Hagrid’s Hut. It was a small wooden cabin with a sloping roof and a chimney, resting just at the edge of the Forest. Moss covered most of the shingles of the roof, and off to one side was a pumpkin patch that held pumpkins that were at least five feet tall, some taller.

Harry knocked on the door and Cath could hear a dog barking inside. A moment later, the door opened, and they were greeted by Hagrid, who filled up the whole doorway. Cath wondered how he could possibly fit inside — he had to crouch a bit under the door frame.

“Harry!” he boomed, beaming down at him. “Great to see ye. And you must be…” he peered down at Cath with merry eyes over his large, bushy beard.

“Er — Cathryn. Malfoy,” she replied.

“Why of course ye are! How could I have forgotten.” Hagrid said, as though he had previously known her. He held out a massive hand, which Cath took and shook. “Pleased to see the two of ye together. Come inside!”

Again, Cath was a bit taken aback by his comment, especially since it seemed that Hagrid already knew who she was. There was no way that he was acquainted with her parents too.

He moved aside so that Harry and Cath could enter. It must have been enchanted, because the inside was much bigger than it looked, and Hagrid didn’t even have to duck under the ceiling.

“Can I get ye some tea? Coffee?” Hagrid asked, moving over to the stove.

“Tea, thanks,” Harry replied.

A massive grey Mastiff walked over to the two of them, sniffing at their feet and hands.

“No beggin’, Fang,” Hagrid said over his shoulder to the dog. “So, what brings the two of ye over ‘ere? Harry, shouldn’t you be in Hogsmeade?”

Cath gave Fang a little scratch behind the ears and his tail began to wag, drool dripping from his massive, wrinkly mouth.

“I couldn’t get my permission form signed,” Harry replied. “You know, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia hating magic and all.”

“Well, Dursley’s will be Dursley’s,” Hagrid said, chuckling. “Don’ worry, Harry. Ye’ll get it sorted out somehow. Have a seat.” Hagrid motioned to a very tall table with equally tall chairs, which looked like they had been hand carved.

Cath tried to hoist herself onto the chair as gracefully has possible, her feet dangling above the ground. Hagrid set three teacups and saucers on the table, and then a pot of steaming tea.

“I hope Gryffindor is treatin’ ye well?” Hagrid asked her, taking a sip from the tiny teacup that he held with two massive fingers.

Cath nodded, smiling. “Very well. I’m thinking of taking Care of Magical Creatures next year. It sounds really interesting.” 

Hagrid beamed at this. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest, I’d say it’s the best class at Hogwarts. Mind you, now that Professor Lupin is here, I think he might give me a run for me money.” He chuckled and dropped another sugar cube into his tea.

Cath swallowed a sip of her tea and struggled not to cough — it was probably the strongest tea she’d ever had. She put some more cream in it and saw Harry trying to hide his laughter.

“Speakin’ of magical creatures…” Hagrid got an excited glint in his eyes. “I’ve got a little somethin’ to show the two of ye. As long as ye keep it a secret, that is.”   

“It’s not a dragon, is it?” Harry asked warily.      

“Of course not, Harry! Don’t know why ye’d say such a thing…” Hagrid stood up from the table and made for the back door. “Follow me.”

“Hagrid tried to raise a dragon in here in our first year,” Harry whispered to Cath as they followed him outside.           

She raised her eyebrows. A wood cabin probably wasn't the best place to raise a dragon…

Hagrid led them inside the forest until they reached a clearing with a big pen. “Best not disturb him… he isn’t too used to people yet,” he said quietly, looking around the pen.

Cath and Harry exchanged glances, not sure what they were supposed to see.

“What is it?” Harry asked quietly.

“There he is,” Hagrid said, pointing. Cath and Harry both craned their necks to see.           

On the other side of the pen was a creature that she’d only seen in story books. The front half and head looked like a giant eagle with white and grey feathers, but the body and hind legs were that of a horse — it even had a long tail swishing back and forth. It was currently gnawing on some sort of dead animal.

Cath stared open mouthed.

“That is Buckbeak,” Hagrid said proudly. “He’s a Hippogriff. Rare and beautiful creatures, they are… But ye’ll have to wait until next week to touch him, Harry.”

“Touch him?” Harry said warily.

“Once ye get them to trust ye, Hippogriffs are pretty friendly. I think it’ll make for a good lesson,” Hagrid said.

Cath didn’t say this out loud, but she didn’t think she could ever have the nerve to go near one of those creatures. It looked like Buckbeak could tear someone apart with one blow of his massive talons.    

Hagrid looked expectantly at her and Harry, like he was waiting for a reaction.

“A real Hippogriff!” Cath said earnestly, hoping the fear didn’t come across in her voice as much as she thought it did. “Too bad I’m not a third year.”      

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be a great lesson,” Harry put in, smiling weakly.

“I knew ye’d like it,” Hagrid said, beaming. “Well, Cath if ye ever want to pet him, you just let me know. Don’ tell Professor Dumbledore, of course.”

“Right! Thanks, Hagrid. I’ll, ah—keep that in mind,” she said, doubtful that she would ever take him up on the offer. She knew just how dangerous Hippogriffs could be.

“Anyways,” Hagrid said, turning back for the cabin. “Ye’d best not stay outside much longer. All students are supposed to be inside the castle by dark, and the sun will be settin’ soon. I wouldn’ want to be outside in the dark with them Dementors floatin’ around the place.”

“Do you think they’ll be here all year?” Harry asked.

“Well, until they catch Sirius Black, that’s for sure,” he replied. “Thanks for visiting, you two. Come by anytime!”         

Cath and Harry said their goodbyes and then headed back up for the castle. The dark rain clouds were slowly but surely moving away from the castle as the sky grew dim.

#hpff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3fic #Hermione Granger #Ron Weasley #Draco Malfoy #dramione #wolfstar #charlie watts #sirius black #remus lupin #writing #mine #it's your choice #cathryn malfoy #malfoy #severus snape

[clinioelerrante]

A peculiar discovery.

“This is absurd, Mr. Weasley!”  said McGonagall. There was a touch of weariness in his complaint and a perfect point of exasperation and disbelief when he rolled her eyes and raised her hands to heaven like asking to Most High for enough patience to be able to keep his composure.

“My arse it is!”  Ron mumbled underneath his breath retorting her decision in a rare emotional tidal wave from the professor of transfiguration and head of the Gryffindor house.

“I beg your pardon?” The expression of astonishment on the old teacher’s face is immediately replaced by the frown, the stony countenance, and the gaze above the crescent glasses which the students of Hogwarts have learned, since their first year is the equivalent of an imminent and particularly original detention.

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter”, the whisper escapes from a head down, red as hellfire, which, if it keeps going down, there was a good chance of ending up inside its own arse.

Minerva McGonagall has been a teacher at Hogwarts for many years and has certainly seen students from all classes with all kinds of families, personalities and individual problems. So, in theory, she should be versed in dealing with students from all walks of life, but even so, there is always someone in every generation of students, who simply do not fit into any of the classifications made to date. She thought that classification was complete when she had to face the gang led by James Potter and his friends Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, but it seems that this new generation has its own challenge to her patience. A really serious challenge, it seems, and one that is going to require all her patience and experience as a teacher and head of the one of the house of the school.

“Mr. Weasley”, she asks him, after taking a deep breath and composing herself in her office chair while she rests her forearms on the desk in front of her and leans slightly forward.  “This situation cannot be sustained any longer. Please look at my face as I speak to you”, She demands, causing the furious fire in front of her to be replaced by two blue eyes of surprising intensity despite her youth. “Mrs. Pomfrey has already noticed that you have been visiting Miss Granger in the infirmary every night outside curfew. She understands your concern for her and has been turning a blind eye to it to this day, but this situation is already unacceptable.”

The old teacher cannot help but feel a lump in her throat when she remembers the scene before her just a few hours ago when, at the request of the school nurse; she came to the nursing wing.

There, leaning on the bed occupied by the petrified Miss Granger, it stands amidst a jumble of scrolls of sloppy calligraphy; it was the head, with the traces of crying on his face, of a sleeping Ronald Weasley sitting by the bed while holding his friend’s hand.

“Mr. Weasley, from this moment on, you are “expressly" forbidden to go back to the infirmary outside visiting hours and especially outside curfew.”

“But Professor…” Minerva is not so much surprised by the interruption as by the vehement and passionate tone in which a hint of despair seems to be hidden. “Hermione has been petrified for weeks. She must be deadly bored, so I go and tell her all the things that happen at school, only the nice ones of course. Like the mandrakes are maturing and she’ll soon be fine and how boringLockhart’s classes are or how Harry’s great at quidditch and he swept the pitch with Malfoy’s stinking ass…” and then his face lights up like if he’s found the definitive and irrefutable point “… she’s been out of class and out of notes for a long time. When they wake her up, she’s going to be distraught, so I read her my own while I’m with her. I know they’re not as good and fucking perfect as hers…” the strict instructor’s hair stands up on the back of her neck when she hears such language, but not as much as when she feels the intensity of the feeling shining in the child’s eyes and translating it into his words, “…but at least they’re something and I’m sure she’ll be able to improve them as soon as she starts studying because she’s the best in the school, whatever asshole face Malfoy says and…”

Minerva’s detecting something now. There is loyalty in the child’s body language, but in his words, she finds something else - devotion. There is a genuine admiration for his friend, an unwavering desire to help her. Hagrid had told her about the slugs incident, and the teacher’s pride in her pupil was burning. Initially, she thought of punishing him, but the Gameskeeper’s recounting convinced her that the youngest of the Weasley boys had had enough punishment. McGonagall detected something else also: a threat to anyone who dared to harm her.

“Mr Weasley!” She interrupts him. “I think Professor Dumbledore has explained to you that petrified people feel absolutely nothing”. She uses a calm and instructive tone in an attempt to calm his own distress. “For them time has stopped. When Miss Granger is unpetrified, it will have will be very similar to that of having consumed a sleeping without dreams potion.”

“But she’d certainly be looking at how to help Harry and me if we were the ones petrified and missing class. Right now she would be raiding the library trying to find some way to wake us sooner, even if we were as dry as a one-eyed dragon’s eye. She’s crazy, I know, but I’m sure she would, and besides”, the intensity in his gaze that existed until that moment, disappears and is replaced by a shadow, while his shoulders fall and his voice descends to something more than a whisper. “Besides, it’s the only thing I can do after that stupid idea of the kiss failed so, I’m going to keep doing it no matter what”. At that moment Ronald Weasley seems oblivious to where and with whom he is, giving the impression that those last words are, rather, a reflection out loud to himself.

“Mr Weasley!” The professor suddenly stood and looked with open eyes at a stunned redhead whose facial expression quickly changed from surprise to understanding and from understanding to panic-. “Are you telling me that you abused a helpless… ?”

“NOOOO!”  The scream from his mouth was if he had been slapped by the accusation. “No. It’s not like you think… well, it’s … but not… I mean, I did kiss her, but it’s not like that, it’s not like that at all any way.”

“Explain yourself”. McGonagall’s voice suffers no kindness. It’s a pure ice knife ready to attack as soon slightest transgression it detects.

“Last year Hermione was talking to us about the differences in how muggles understand magic, and she was telling us some muggles stories of spells and curses. One of them tells the story of a woman who seems to fall under a spell so similar to the living dead potion and how she is reanimated, not by a potion, but a kiss! Yes. I know it’s crazy and that real magic doesn’t work that way, but I thought… FUCK!” The imprecation escapes meanwhile he runs his hands through his hair in a reflex act of desperation over his inability to explain the obvious. “Professor Dumbledore spends his time talking about magic and that it has aspects that are completely unknown and mysterious to us, and my best friend survived to the killing curse from the most evil and powerful wizard of all time so I thought, why not? Maybe the crazy muggles were talking through their hats and written their own version, so there was nothing to lose, so I kissed her on the forehead. I did it for her and because I don’t like seeing her like that. That doesn’t look like Hermione. That doesn’t look like my best friend”, he says, collapsing on the chair with his face in his hands.

With all her years, with all her experience, Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, member of the secret society known as The Order of the Phoenix, cannot help but gaze in disbelief at the revelation. One, which very few have had the opportunity to see in all its grandeur: Rebellion, concern, sacrifice, dedication, tenderness, loyalty, devotion, protection… desperation. All from an eleven-year-old boy already irrevocably in love with his schoolmate. Too young to be able to recognize her own feeling and give it a name, but so strong and indestructible that the old teacher can only pray to heaven that Hermione Granger’s heart will harbour the same feelings for the impetuous and stubborn Ronald Weasley.

The owner of all rights is JKR.

This was my work for the Romioneficfest 2020.

I apologize to the heirs of Shakespeare, but, I was really dying to publish something on Romioneficfest. I hope you can forgive my terrible English. A million thanks to the festival's moderator, who revised my grammar and put this story on a diet to keep it within the regulated parameters.

There's a dragon lady. That even though she always looks angry, we all know she has a tender heart.

Thank you.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post#Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated T #Rated PG-13 #Mod note: Emailed to me and asked to edit.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26120641/chapters/63539629

[tolkienuntangled]

Tolkien Fun Fact #1 - Gandalf for the Win!

When Gandalf the White came to the Grey Havens, the Third Age came to an end. When he set sail with the rest of the ring-bearers, a new Age of peace and prosperity began. And when he revealed the Ring of Fire upon his finger, the epic tales that began with Sauron and Celebrimbor 4963 years earlier, came to an end. For over 2000 years, Gandalf had wandered the wilds and counselled the wise. Over seventeen years he had discovered the truth of the One Ring, and identified it in Hobbiton. And over the span of two months he had died, come back from the dead, and then orchestrated the greatest victory that Arda had ever known. The Downfall of Sauron and the return of the King was the ultimate win for the peoples of Middle Earth, not to mention the Ainur who adhered to Ilúvatar's vision. And Gandalf was the architect of the whole thing!

So to fully comprehend the magnitude of Gandalf's contribution, let's go back to the very beginning of his time in Middle Earth. In fact we'll go back even further. Because the entire reason that Gandalf (and the other four Istar) were sent to Middle Earth in the first place, is because of how bleak things were looking at the end of the First Millennium of the Third Age. So pretty much every bad thing that happened in the First Age, happened because an Ainur went rogue and tried to dominate the world. By the Second Age that was done with, but another Ainur (Sauron this time) also went rogue, and he also tried to dominate the world. So when he was defeated and the Third Age began, the last thing anyone needed was more interference from the Ainur. For a brief moment, it looked like things might work out on their own. But this did not happen.

Within two years of Sauron's defeat, Isildur was dead and the One Ring was lost. Less than a millennia after that, Isildur's Kingdom of Arnor had fallen due to infighting, and it was divided into three rival nations. Things weren't looking good. So the Valar of the West decided that they'd help out Middle Earth one final time. But luckily they'd learnt from their mistakes. When they helped out against the first rogue Ainur, they flooded an entire continent. When they refrained from helping out against the second rogue Ainur, Eru Ilúvatar broke the world and changed it to a round planet. Again this flooded an entire Island. So this time they were hoping to avoid an apocalyptic flood entirely. And that's why the Istar were not sent as warriors to lead armies, but simply sent as mentors and counsellors. They had one job; to guide the Free Peoples in their battle against Sauron.

Now this may not sound too challenging, but apparently, it was. The two Blue Wizards disappeared into the East, and to be fair, we don't know enough about their actions to condemn them for anything. But Tolkien tells us that they did "most likely" fail. Saruman on the other hand we can most certainly condemn. He turned into another rogue Ainur and (shock) he also tried to dominate the world. So Saruman failed spectacularly. And Radagast, bless him, he just seemed to lose interest in his task. He never fell into darkness, but it turns out that befriending birds and beasts isn't quite enough of a contribution to be considered a success. He "turned aside from his appointed mission" and Tolkien tells us that Radagast was "not proud and domineering, but neglectful and easygoing," and thus he too failed. So with a failure rate that's now reached four out of five, there was an awful lot of pressure on Gandalf to pull victory out of the bag. And he did.

But he didn't do so with power or with pride. Gandalf's secret weapon throughout his two thousand years in Middle Earth was wisdom, and a profound appreciation for humility. We'll see this humility a few more times before the end.

So after meeting Glorfindel and Círdan at the Grey Havens, and after being given Narya - the Ring of Fire, Gandalf travelled throughout the West, refusing to settle down unlike Radagast and Saruman. And in this time, Gandalf acquainted himself with all the Free Peoples. And we know this by the many names he soon came to wear. When he went to the Elves, Gandalf became Mithrandir. When he went to the Dwarves he became Tharkûn. And when he went to the Men of the South he became Incánus. And for many many years Gandalf travelled the wilds; watching and waiting.

But while Gandalf waited, Middle Earth seemed to get worse. The Nazgûl returned to torment the world, a new shadow lengthened in Dol Guldur, plagues and dragons ravaged the Free Peoples, and beneath the Misty Mountains, a balrog awoke.

Now Gandalf did take an active role in slowing the spread of this shadow, and the White Council was formed to uncover the secrets of the Necromancer. But this is where we see Gandalf's humility come to the forefront of his character. You see Galadriel suggested to the White Council that Gandalf should be their leader. But he refused. And this echoes a similar moment thousands of years before, where Manwë (the King of the Valar) also appointed Gandalf (who was known back then as Olórin) to be one of the Istar. And again Olórin (initially) refused. In fact it was this very humility which convinced Manwë that Olórin was indeed the perfect choice to join the Istar.

And Gandalf's humility, along with his appreciation for those who live humble lives, may explain the origin of his portentous friendship with the secretive race of Hobbits. It seems that Gandalf knew, either consciously or otherwise, that the modest race of Halflings would one day "move the wheels of the world." And while "the eyes of the great were elsewhere," Gandalf spent a great deal of time watching over the Shire.

Which brings us to Gandalf's nature as a guide as opposed to a leader. It's a subtle distinction, but throughout all the quests that Gandalf takes part in, he seems to have an innate knowledge of when he ought to guide, and when he ought to bow out, and let others lead the quest onwards. After all it isn't Gandalf who slays Smaug. It isn't Gandalf who reclaims Erebor. And it isn't Gandalf who rebuilds Dale. And yet if it weren't for his 'chance' meeting with Thorin, none of those things would have happened. Which would would mean that during the Northern sphere of the War of the Ring, Dale and Erebor would not have been there to repel the armies of Sauron. But they were. Thanks to Gandalf. Even though he was busy in the South at the time. And of course, none of those things are the most significant outcome of Gandalf's involvement in the Quest of Erebor. If not for his foresight in regards to Bilbo, the One Ring would not have been found beneath the Misty Mountains, and it would not have made its way into the hands of the Free Peoples.

So for the first 2017 years of his time in Middle Earth, Gandalf was the 'man behind the curtain', the wise watcher, and the one who put plans into motion, which moved the gears of resistance. For many years, he'd fostered a friendship with Aragorn, and quietly worked towards restoring him to the throne of the Dúnedain. And a few years later he'd taken Faramir son of Denethor as his pupil, and instructed him the ways of wisdom. In the coming years, both of these friendships would end up saving the world. But in his 2018th year, Gandalf was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. Because by the year 3018, the time of waiting and watching was over.

Now we all know about Gandalf's contribution throughout the Lord of the Rings, and I'm not going to tell that story here, but on the 25th of January in the year 3019, everything came crashing down. Gandalf died. He didn't fail in his task, but his body did fail against the balrog. And Gandalf passed away. Well at least for 20 days. Because of course, Eru Ilúvatar himself would not allow Gandalf to leave Middle Earth just yet.

Now after being reborn, Gandalf faced an epic race to the finish line. There were only 25 days between being reunited with the three hunters, and the final destruction of Sauron. But in those 25 days Gandalf turned the tide of war from disaster to absolute victory. The very next day after meeting Aragorn in Fangorn, Gandalf arrived in Edoras, where he roused King Théoden from his hopelessness. The day after that was the Battle of the Hornburg, and the following morning, Gandalf arrived with Erkenbrand and 1000 Rohirric reinforcements. And the next day would see Gandalf riding with Pippin to Minas Tirith, where he would oversee the defence of the last bastion of resistance against Sauron.

So on the 15th of March, everything came to a head. On the fields of Pelennor, the forces of Mordor were driven back, but far to the East, in both Mirkwood and Lothlorien, the Elves came under an attack of their own. And up in the north, the Kingdoms of Erebor and Dale were besieged. There were now only ten days left on the War of the Ring.

So this was the reality that Gandalf and the other Free Peoples faced on the day of the Last Debate. And during this debate, Gandalf was unanimously chosen by the three Lords of the West, Aragorn, Éomer, and Imrahil, to be their leader in the final battle. Now this is possibly the first time in his entire existence, that Gandalf graduated from being a guide to being a genuine leader. And in the last week of the War of the Ring, everything Gandalf had ever done would culminate, in one final battle.

Now I don't want to imply that Gandalf alone saved Middle Earth, we know that there were a huge number of other heroes who took the reins. But all of them have Gandalf somewhere in their genesis; guiding them towards their fated end. After all it was Gandalf's idea to march on the Black Gate and draw Sauron's armies away from Frodo. It was Gandalf who set Frodo off on his quest in the first place. It was Gandalf who insisted that Sam go with him. It was Gandalf who persuaded Bilbo to go on the adventure in which the ring was found. And it was Gandalf who taught both Bilbo and Frodo to treat Gollum with pity. All of these events had to play out in exactly the way they did for the ring to be destroyed, and yet they're all ripples in time, that were set in motion by Gandalf.

Even Aragorn, the titular King who so famously returned, owes much of his fate to Gandalf. And he may not even know the full extent of it. The reason that Aragorn takes the title King Elessar, is because the Elessar was an elf stone that was given to him by his love Arwen. But Arwen was given the Elessar by her grandmother Galadriel. And who gave the stone to Galadriel? Who else but Gandalf? 2000 years before Aragorn was even born, Gandalf prophesied to Galadriel that she would one day pass the stone to a Man, and because of it, he would take up the name Elessar.

So let's now skip forward again to the Grey Havens, and to Gandalf's departure from Middle Earth. Alongside the rest of the ring-bearers (and Shadowfax) Gandalf passed into the West, leaving the East in its most peaceful and prosperous state ever. Now this is where the story ends, and so Gandalf's fate beyond this moment is a mystery. Yet I find it truly heartwarming to imagine Gandalf's reception when he arrived back in the West. 2022 years ago, he'd been sent across the sea to dwell in a land of war and darkness. All four of his fellow Istar failed. Over the centuries the power of Mordor only grew. The Kingdoms of Men were gripped by despair. But Gandalf succeeded in his mission. He did what he sent to do. And 2022 years later, the darkness was vanquished, and a new King had returned.

I feel like the victory of the Free Peoples over Sauron was like a complex machine. Thousands of cogs and wheels and turn at the exact right time and in the exact right way for victory to be achieved. And yet the spark that set the machine in motion was Gandalf. Imagine how great he must have felt to return to Valinor. To throw off the body of Gandalf and to return to his angelic form as Olórin. There is perhaps no one in the entire history of Arda, who did a better job than him. The victory of the West was his victory. Gandalf pulled off the ultimate win!

So, thank you all for reading. Over the course of this year’s lockdown I’ve been working on a series of Tolkien themed YouTube videos called Tolkien Untangled.  So far I've uploaded 10 episodes explaining the beginning of the Simarillion, the Beginning of Days, and the tale of Fëanor and the Silmarils. I’ve also released four episodes about the differences between the Lord of the Rings books and movies, and I’m currently releasing a weekly series of Tolkien lore videos. So check out Tolkien Untangled on YouTube if you'd like to learn more. 

Thanks again everyone. Much love and stay groovy ❤️

#tolkien #lord of the rings #gandalf #silmarillion #the hobbit #istari #unfinished tales #Tolkien Untangled #wizard #lotr #simplytolkien