#and he was young and still figuring things out

[mr-inkslinger]

ARTHUR MORGAN walked into your shared hotel room without knocking because he wasn't used to you tagging along with him. He walked in to see your legs spread, fingers deep inside your aching, dripping cunt your other hand working your clit. He should've walked away. He should've. He was going to as well, until you whimpered his naming as your hips lifted off the bed. You hadn't even noticed him. He should've walked. You were just a pretty young thing. He shouldn't have gotten you tangled up into him and his mess anyways.

He didn't even realize how heavy his breathing had grown, how tight his pants were. Shit.

Now, you were none the wiser to his presence, so caught up in trying to imagine what it would be like to be with him. His fingers were thick, thicker than yours. It was hard to imagine what it'd be like to have him finger you because he'd stretch you out better with two fingers than the three you had inside of you. Even harder to imagine his thumb working your clit with the same hand, given the fact that you needed two to do what he could with a singular hand. Your head tilted back in a low groan, half of it was from pleasure but the other half was from sheer frustration. You'd done your best to signal that you were interested. Bordering on desperate, at this point. You'd tried everything, touching his shoulder, batting your eyelashes, playing dumb. None of it worked. At all. At this point you had figured he just wasn't interested, so you'd have to settle for your imagination.

A floorboard creaked under Arthur's foot as he tried to take a step back. But it gave him away. You jumped and he jumped, even though he was aware of you and you noticing him. He stumbled to face the door, his skin burning with embarrassment from the encounter. He felt shame, severe shame. "I'm sorry, I-I thought you were asleep and then-"

"You crept up on cat's paws, Arthur."

"Like I said, I thought you'd be asleep."

"Well, I ain't."

"Clearly."

There was a pause, as you sat there, naked. Half covered but still, naked all the same. Naked and moaning his name and completely vulnerable because of what he does to you and he won't even look at you. You sighed, heavy, deep, disappointed. He very clearly didn't want you. "I'm sorry, Arthur.. that was.. embarrassing."

"My fault, really.. shouldn't have barged in and sure as hell shouldn't have lingered." Another huff from you. "Why are you huffin' and puffin'?" He asked you, despite facing the door, he was at least talking to you.

"Because.. well, because of you!"

"Me?" He almost turned around to shoot you a look of incredulous disbelief. "The hell did I do?"

"Beside barging in here, disturbing my private life? You didn't do anything and that's the problem!"

Arthur shook his head, trying to figure out what the fuck that even meant. "So, lemme get this straight. You're mad at me for doing something by not doing something?"

"Arthur, turn around." You had asked him gently, if he could just see how desperately you needed him, maybe he'd give you what you wanted. However, Arthur was reluctant, he just glanced over his shoulder at you. There you were, showing yourself to him. Fuck. Soft thighs and smooth stomach, he figured each of your breasts would fit perfect in his hands. He swallowed thickly, trying to get his brain to make some thought or action, something. "Can't you see that I want you- need you. Arthur, I need you." This was it, a last ditch attempt to get him to see that you wanted him this badly.

You leaned back and spread yourself for him, maintaining eye contact with the one that peered at you over his broad shoulder. His breathing grew deeper. You could see the way he broke away from your gaze to follow the dainty hand you were dropping to your cunt. The way you curled your fingers in and how you weakly bucked against your own palm. He turned to look at you, really look at you. He took a step closer, watching your chest heave and how you blushed under his gaze. He could see your struggle. How you whined and writhed and yet you seemed unable to satisfy yourself how you wanted.

Your free hand furiously rubbed at your clit, desperate to come for him, to really show him how bad you wanted him. Your eyes fluttered a few times but never enough to not look at him. You watched him chuckle, adjusting himself in his jeans. The way his hand lingered, you could see the outline of his dick. Bigger than you anticipated and that was saying something.

His hand clutched himself a little tighter as your breath hitched. "Easy now, easy.." His voice soft, deep. He spoke from his chest. His eyes trained on your weeping cunt, the way your fingers dipped in, the way it dripped around them, glistening in the low light of the room. He kept approaching, step by step as you worked yourself up more. "Nice and easy."

He reached out, a large hand gripping your knee, his thumb rubbing circles. His touch was slow and languid, you focused on the rhythm and stroked your clit to match it. He wasn't stupid, he caught onto that quick. "There ya go... just like that." His hand slid higher, testing the water as he leaned over you. Just enough to add pressure to your personal space he'd taken up residency in. His words of encouragement and seeing his hand hadn't stopped palming his cock made it easy for you to notice that you weren't the only one desperate. He leaned down further, sinking to his knees, his face dangerously close between your thighs. The scruffy cheeks in a dangerously close position to where you've wanted for too damn long.

"Arthur.." That earned you a small smirk, a soft chuckle that was broken. He leaned closer to you, his hand gripping your wrist.

"Want some help?" It didn't take much deliberation before you were nodding, pulling your hand away. His replaced yours, the rough pads of his fingers tentatively stroking down over your clit to your entrance. He marveled at how slick you were. "All of this over me?" He grinned, not ever waiting for an answer as he pressed a finger into you. "God damn.." He could feel how tight you were around his finger, your walls trembling for him. He shook his head, setting his hat aside as he curled his finger. "Oh, you're sweet on me alright." He listened to you keen above him, how your hard gripped his bicep.

This was a dream come true for you. He pumped his finger in and out, slowly, working you up to take another one of his digits and as he slipped on in, the stretch was better than you imagined. Poor Arthur, helplessly rutted against the mattress, the friction was enough for now. He leaned forward the rest of the way, stealing a kiss against your clit. Your hips lurched as your hand carded through his hair. Your touch encouraged him to stay close. His tongue was sinfully warm against you, it was overwhelming being stuffed with his hand and being devoured by his mouth. He hummed graciously as his lips wrapped around your clit. He sucked and licked and swirled it, like it was a nice aged whiskey that he was savoring. A taste test. He clearly enjoyed it, the way his eyes were screwed shut and he moaned into your core.

It was building you up, rapidly. You felt hot and you couldn't help the aggressive grip you had on his hair. His brow twitched with a wince as you tugged it again. He groaned into your folds, the vibration and primal experience of it caused you to tremble. Maybe he just made you tremble. Your moans grew and he made no attempt to silence them. He wouldn't let up, it was overstimulating the way he was eating you. The way his fingers curled with precision and made delicious noises from your pussy. The squelch of his digits dragging against your walls only to be pressed back in with enough force that it did feel like he was fucking you. With intention, purpose. He was seeking to bring you to that edge.

You breathing had become irregular, like your brain had shut off and it wasn't even something you could imagine doing. You were so caught up in all of it, you tried to pull his head away. "Stop- Arthur, I'm gunna come." You tried to push his face away, embarrassed at the idea of coming on his face. He shook his head, his tongue continuing to slurp you up, the more he consumed you the wetter you got. You could see he was covered in you from cheek bones to jaw. His fingers bumping against his chin as he dragged them across your walls, mapping you out. Every ridge and flex of muscle.

His insistence was paying off when he felt your pussy constrict on his fingers, he never stilled though. He worked you right through it, his own hips grinding against the mattress. His free hand reached under you, gripping a chunk of the meat of your ass, holding you tight and close to his mouth. He hummed and moaned, sounding like a starved man given a five course meal. You pawed at his face, feeling your own juices drenching your thighs and his wrist.

He pulled away for a moment, flashing you a crooked grin. "You're a good girl, y'know? All pretty and wrecked f'me. I ain't finished with you, though.."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan/reader #arthur morgan imagines #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan smut #c: arthur morgan

[missterious-figure]

(Have this scenario!)

Y/N stared at the young crow that stared intently at them. The baby was staring and barely blinking before she chirped and made grabby hands at them.

“Uhhhh…” Y/N was unsure if they should pick the child up, they knew how aggressive parent birds got when someone was near their babies.

Since Y/N was taking too long, the baby crow (Tia) started getting upset and tearing up. Panicking, Y/N picked up the crow child, who calmed down once she was held and chirped happily.

“I am probably not supposed to be holding you but I am not good dealing with crying kids…” Y/N mumbled as Tia booped their nose and nuzzled them, chirping happily. “Awww, you are kinda cute though…”

Now imagine the peacock triplets’ reactions to seeing this, hehe!

(This is just a little "silly" thing. Enjoy!)

Moon had just seen the whole incident go down from his shadowy hiding place. To think something as beautiful as he could manage to hide at all. He smirked to himself. The harpy himself was thinking of only one thing. You. You were so cute. Even more so when you were flustered in a brilliant pink. Like a beautiful tropical sunset on a warm summer evening...

A creeping figure slinked from the it's hiding spot. Moon was on the move. Or, dare say, hunt. The victim was close. Very close. So close he didn't understand how they didn't notice him. Oh, wait, yes he did. He was just that good at stalking his prey. Any predator would be jealous of his skill. If he himself had been a real predator everyone would be done for.

With a sudden shake of his bell, he announced his presence to the unknowing victim. Almost jumping out of your skin, you whip around with a yelp. A very pathetic sound indeed. You are quick to go silent again. You're face to face with Moon. Close enough to feel his cool breath embrace your skin like a winter wind. After a few seconds of this awkward eye contact, he pulls himself to his full height. You can do nothing but continue to stare, Tia still in your arms, squeaking happily at Moon. He chuckles as you behold his glory.

Without warning, he uses his hand to gently cradle the back of your neck and press you close to his body. Kinda like a weird sideways hug. Your heart is going a million miles a second. And that bastard of a bird can feel it. His red eyes go from your rosy face to the baby harpy. He smiled smugly.

"Guess this is our newly adopted baby now, huh, jewel?"

Oh fuck. Your face is a blaze of embarrassment. Something else, too. You try to pull away from Moon's grip, but his golden glove slithers down your spine. It finds it's way to your hip. His other hand soon follows, running down your torso to parallel it's partner. He of course has to bend down to make this possible. He doesn't mind though. His chin nestles into a comfy spot on your shoulder. Humming, Moon whispers,

"So when will we make our own?"

:) Hehe.

#dca au #wine and feathers au #answered #missterious-drabble

[teriri-sayes]

Reactions to Crazier Bastard's Chapter 294

Brief summary: Cale wonders if Exion is an enemy or not. Cale meets the great elf, and talks about the WT and the impending end of the world.

==========

Is Exion an enemy or not? That was the question Cale had after this chapter. Frankly, I would like it if Exion joined Cale's side instead of the Dragon Lord's. All ten dragon gods were considered villains, so it would be nice twist if he switched sides.

Exion was someone who pretended to be a human. He started it as a play he did for fun. But as time passed, 200 years to be exact, the play became real. It became his life.

He fell in love and married a human, a princess of a fallen kingdom. He created a fiefdom, calling it a Grand Duchy, and became the Grand Duke. He accepted humans as his citizens, and treated them well. And now, he was about to become a father and expecting a child soon.

Exion wrote to Cale in a letter that he really wanted to protect his family, even if it meant betraying the Dragon Lord or destroying the world. Of course, there were suspicious parts to his story.

Was his good treatment of humans genuine or just an act to govern them efficiently? And how old exactly was his human wife? Why was she still alive and young-looking after all these years? Was her secret to youth and long life the thing he was offering a solution to Pope Kesilia's limited lifespan? At the end, Cale thought that he really needed to talk with Exion to figure him out.

Cale's meeting with the great elf though was quite funny. 😂

Clopeh: *knocks on the door* Great elder: *opens and sees Clopeh* Great elder: ...There's a crazy bastard here who overcame brainwashing. *stares at Clopeh as if he was a strange creature* Later... Great elder: *talks about the doom and destruction of the world and the WT* Cale: *counters all the doom talk with his plans to save the world* Everyone: *looks at Cale in shock* Clopeh: *feels proud as he looks at Cale* Great elder: There's a crazier bastard here.

We finally know who the two the chapter title were referring to. 😂 Clopeh was the crazy bastard, and Cale was the crazier bastard. 🤣🤣🤣 Clopeh was "crazy" because he resisted the brainwashing of the guardian knight's sword. Cale was "crazier" because he planned to completely reverse the impending doom and destruction of Aipotu.

Ending Remarks The Exion part surprised me, and made me look forward to Cale's meeting with him. Next chapter would be Cale meeting the World Tree which was... suicidal?! Or to be exact, it was willing to sacrifice itself to save the world from destruction even though it was "immortal". Could this WT still be saved? I'm excited to know what Cale's plan for the WT would be.

#tcf spoilers #trash of the count's family

[ewingstan]

If you had a chance to recommend (real-world) superhero comics to the Undersiders, which comics would you recommend and why?

Oh, good question. Its been a minute since I was really into comics (I gotta figure out how to reactivate my Marvel Unlimited account), but I think I have enough background to come up with some good picks.

Lotta good options for Taylor. My first thought is to give her Ewing's X-Men Red (aka "the main reason I need to catch up on Marvel comics"), since a superhero story that focuses a lot on gaining and maintaining societal power and the work of governing as a leader in a super-community seems like it would appeal to the Warlord of the Boardwalk. Plus a lot of it is "kill the previous leader in a way that ensures you have a popular mandate," which I'm sure she'd be a fan of.

If we're talking Taylor at the start of the story or younger—well, I don't know if it makes sense to give her runs of the character she's most a pastiche of, but maybe something that fits the Spider-Man niche could still be appealing for a young down-on-her-luck aspiring hero? I could see her getting something out of the Simone or Ahmed Ms. Marvel runs, for instance.

(While Watchmen might seem like the natural pick, I'm pretty sure she'd lose a lot of enjoyment just from picking out all the ways Veidt's plan was obviously gonna fail for x y z reasons. Also dark deconstructions of superhero worlds would probably seem too familiar to her world for her to enjoy it.)

If Taylor would be interested in comics statecraft, Lisa would probably be more interested in comics spycraft and intrigue. Ewing's S.W.O.R.D. would probably scratch the same itch for her that X-Men Red would for Taylor (and Storm dramatically blowing off Doom would probably satisfy her after all the ulcer-inducing negotiations with Accord.) I might also give her Ewings New Avengers and USAvengers runs (look this is gonna include a lot of Al Ewing recs, get used to it early) if only because I feel like she'd enjoy how Roberto gets characterized in those comics. Magnificent bastard solidarity.

If we're giving comics to Brian, we already need to work past his defensive avoidance of anything that seems too childish, so I don't think we're getting anything pre-dark ages. That said, he famously thinks "looking mature" means "sick-ass skulls and leather jackets," so his idea of maturity might skew a bit into McFarlane territory. Ultimately though I think he'd be most comfortable with something where he could plausibly say "this isn't just a comic, it's actually a well-respected piece of literature." I'd want that to mean Moore's Saga of the Swamp Thing, but it'd probably actually mean The Dark Knight Returns.

As a dark horse pick, I'd give Brian some early New Warriors or Ewing's Contest of Champions, if only because Night Thrasher feels so close to what he wants his vibe to be (dramatic black leather ensemble with a very 90's idea of cool, unflappable expert strategist who pulls his weight despite a powerset with limited applicability, died horribly and came back much later for weirdly impersonal reasons) while also being just ridiculous enough to make me want to see his reaction.

Given Iota's commentary on Alec's pizza habits, I'd think Alec would most be a fan of something intense and bombastic and not mind if its often repetitive. I'd almost say Berserk would be a good match for him, but parts of that that might actually be triggering for him. Maybe some other ultra-violent longrunning work; I haven't read Fist of the North Star but it seems like a safe recommendation; various X-Force runs could work if we're sticking with Western comics.

Rachel really doesn't seem like someone who'd have much appreciation for any aspect of comics. The best bet would be something visually spectacular in a way that could be appreciated on its own, and a plot that's interesting taking issues on their own and not just as part of ongoing runs. I could see Ewing's Immortal Hulk as fitting those criteria; her power gives her an artist's appreciation for Bennett's horrific depictions of the Hulk's transformations (even if praising Bennett for anything feels in poor taste).

Ewing's scripts for each issue of Hulk are clever in a way that I feel Rachel could find entertaining; they don't require an attention she couldn't keep up, but also aren't simple to the point of being condescending. Plus, the thematic focus on "what can and can't be solved through unspeakable acts of destruction" would feel familiar in a way that's less frustrating than normal comic tut-tutting about how obviously we can't attack these guys (plus the greater willingness to say "oh yeah unspeakable destruction definitely is the best way forwards here" would be pretty satisfying).

I feel like Aisha would have more patience for comic tropes than a lot of the other undersiders, (I could see her enjoying the original Fantastic Four run), but at the same time she'd probably enjoy something a bit more complicated and out-there. Ewing's Rocket might be appealing as heist-focused mini, and I feel like the mix of melancholy and absurdity would appeal to her. Rosenberg's Hawkeye: Freefall would work for similar reasons, though replace "melancholy" with "simmering rage."

Morrison's Doom Patrol and The Invisibles both have characters Aisha might relate to for the whole "society largely ignoring or wanting to go away" thing. Plus they both have big weird ideas she'd appreciate, Richard Case's art works well with her aesthetics, and they're both seen as "respectable" series to the point that she might like peppering in references to them in alongside Jules Verne jokes.

Huh, I just realized that Aisha and Brian both ended up chasing an appearance of being mature and somewhat surface-level and off-putting ways. Brian "trust me I'm a normal adult man" and Aisha "I've compiled spider-man quips for every work in the Western Canon and will get frustrated when you don't get them" Laborn, the "something ain't right about that kid" siblings.

(I will say that Morrison's Doom Patrol has some weird black stereotypes so if anyone wants to pitch me on a similar work without Morrison's occasional racism I'd be curious).

I'd give Rowell's run on Runaways to Sabah, if only because "somewhat antivillanous found family group of teens that mostly don't have to worry about anything besides relationship drama" sounds like a nice escape for her. Closer to what she wants the Undersiders to be like. Also, I feel she'd enjoy Kris Anka's focus on fashion in his art.

I don't have a lot to go off for Lily. I could see some of the more recent Captain Marvel runs appealing to her sense of true-blue militant heroism. Ayala's New Mutants or Ahmed's Black Bolt might help combat her whole "villains are ontologically evil" thing, at least to a certain extent.

#apologies for all the al ewing picks but. Cmon. You all know what im about. #greatwyrmgold #wormblr #wildbow #parahumans #mals reads worm #mals says #undersiders

[neverniko101]

Lost in the Deep- The Crew

Hi!! In celebration of Mermay, I’m taking a (short!) break from Horror Dreamtale and Phantasmverse to doodle some of the fellas from my pirates & mermaids AU, Lost in the Deep!

Summary of story:

Dream has the unflinching goal to sail to Thornebreak Island in The Southern Seas to battle the monster that lives there and the pirates it has bent to its will. One problem: he has no idea how to sail. And can’t swim. And is scared of water. He hires retired pirate Geno and rowdy young harpooner Maroon to help him on his journey. Just as they are about to leave, Geno convinces the group to go visit an old friend of his, Blueberry, for some last advice and extra supplies. While Blue was out helping them gather supplies, though, his brother is kidnapped by some of the monster’s pirates, presumably to be dragged back to the lair. A little guilty for unwittingly distracting Blue during the attack, the crew agrees to let him accompany them and help save his brother. Along the way, they bribe convince a member of the Royal Guard’s Navy (Ink) to join them as well.

Oh, and Dream may have forgotten to mention that the monster is his brother, a siren corrupted by a strange parasite. And that he’s a siren, too.

I’m sure everything will go perfectly well.

Geno:

- Ex-pirate

- Lost right eye and left leg

- Pathetic old man /aff

- Could probably still kick your ass

- So tired, somebody get this man some coffee

Dream:

- Based off a koi fish (inspired by @cas-spirit :3)

- He’s trying. So hard. But nothing ever goes right

- Likes to bask in the sun like a lizard

- Insists that the orange scales on his body are just tattoos

- Expending too much energy/coming in too much contact with water could cause him to revert to his siren form (looking like a normal bipedal being is hard work), so he tries to order others around him to do work instead of doing it himself since it’s his boat and he’s the one paying everybody (it does not work he is too nice)

Blueberry:

- big

- Can probably pick you up and throw you 30 ft

- Retired Royal Guard Navy member, fought Geno’s pirate gang and they became friends in between fights

- Started a bakery when he retired- Blue’s Baked Bites

- Sure would be a shame if he bonded with the younger members of the group. In a fatherly way. Almost like becoming a father figure-

- Don’t let his size and appearance fool you, he is a lovable idiot

Ink:

- Just a Little Guy™️

- Easily distracted by shiny objects and hoards them in hidden corners

- His vials don’t help him feel things, but are rather medicine for a magical condition

- Likes to sit in the crow’s nest, obviously

- om nom nom eat all the fish

Maroon:

- Some variety of Fell variant

- Likes playing with sharp objects

- Very high energy, but not necessarily mean

- Insomnia

- Tries to be tough and scary but is secretly precious boy

Okay that’s it maybe I’ll do the pirates next

#undertale #undertale au #utmv #art #sans undertale #my art #digital art #artwork #sans #utmv sans #lost in the deep utmv #lost in the deep ut au #geno sans #geno!sans #aftertale sans #aftertale #dream sans #dream!sans #dreamtale #blueberry sans #swap sans #underswap sans #ink!sans #ink sans #ink utmv #utmv art #utmv oc #fell sans #underfell #undertale sans

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-Ulous: Norm 2

For Norm, most of his time with Lila was spent studying up on the events of the past few years and the current state of Paris in order to get up to date. 

For Lila, most of her time with Norm was spent trying to find the perfect way to make her wishes so they wouldn’t keep backfiring.

Which was hilarious to Norm, since her attempts only made things worse.

“One of these wishes is bound to work!” Lila insisted, starting to look almost as haggard and unhinged as a certain crock-pot.

Norm rolled his eyes.

Geez, he was just kind of insulted by this point. One would think after the first two wishes going completely wrong that the wish-maker would put one and two together and give up by that third wish.

Here Lila Rossi was a good hundred or so wishes PAST that magic number and she was STILL insisting that Ladybug and Dupain-Cheng—who totally aren’t the same person wink wink—were responsible for turning her wishes against her. Somehow, for the girl who liked to think she was so ingenious, she hasn’t figured out that it was his own magic screwing with her.

Honestly, he was kind of insulted. It was like she didn’t even KNOW him!

…which she didn’t, now that he thought about it. He’d barely gotten out that he was a genie before she started on the wishing. 

Not like he was going to do anything to change that, though, but still! He felt kind of used. Maybe he should talk to her about it? She was still young—only a teenager and probably deserved a chance to learn and grow or something.

…nah.

“You’re doing great, kid.” He said blithely as he looked over a news article instead.

Apparently Dimmsdale had vanished from the face of the Earth as far as he could find, so either Turner had done something or he was in an entirely different dimension. Either way, twerp was gone and not his problem.

Thus, he instead used his time wisely—or at least more wisely than his new victim at any rate. As such, he decided to take the time to learn about how things worked before he tried to mess around too much. Particularly regarding these heroes and the whole “Hawk Moth” deal. Maybe he should have tried more to get in touch with that guy, but given some of those “akumas” he’d been making….yeah, no, Norm was better off staying out of that.

Though the Miraculous seemed familiar. He could swear he encountered them before. Hadn’t he known a guy? Cat guy? 

Eh, it was a while ago. Probably nothing.

He picked up the next random reading material in the pile and…ooh, a magazine. He ignored Lila muttering to herself while looking over the magazine and…wow, this blond kid really was everywhere, wasn’t he?

Creepy. Seriously, was he the only one kind of weirded out over the hyped up over focus on a 14 year old? 

No? Just him?

Lila glared at him. Part of her was tempted to try and demand answers, but that would be admitting there was some issue. And there was none!

She was fine! Perfect, in fact! Now she had her own genie and magic to influence the world with! The only problem was she couldn’t use it on Ladybug.

Clearly, this was Ladybug’s fault. She must be doing SOMETHING to interfere with her new magic!

Typical. She just couldn’t let Lila have anything good. Not Adrien. Not fame. Not even the crushing defeat of her enemies.

But Lila would prevail—oh yes! All she had to do was find the right wish to get everything she deserved!

"Soon." She muttered with a smirk. "Soon..."

____________________

I wish everyone, including Ladybug, believed I was her best friend!"

Three days later and nothing.

Ladybug didn't come to visit her. She didn't interact with her outside of battles. Or even IN battles except to tell her to stay out of the battles. And nobody new was cozying up to Lila in a way that would suggest they were under the effects of her wish.

"What gives?!" She demanded to Norm, finally having enough of waiting. Though to be fair, Lila had never been very patient. "Why isn't Ladybug being friendly with me?"

She glared at the picture of the superhero on her computer. No updates. No news. Nothing out of character. And no sign of even caring about Lila the way she should!

"If Ladybug thought I was her best friend, shouldn't she be friendly towards me? Hell, she should be spilling her identity to me by now!”

Norm, being rather bored by this point, shrugged. Truthfully, even he didn't know for sure why the superhero remained unchanged, but he had a few gueses.

"Well, your wish didn't take into account who Ladybug is."

"What is THAT supposed to mean?!" She demanded.

He sighed. "Kid, your wish made Ladybug think you were her best friend. The only reason she wouldn't tell you her identity would be because she wouldn't tell her own non-wish-influenced best friend her identity."

"Shouldn't she have trusted me with a Miraculous at least?" She questioned.

"Not if Ladybug was understandably ticked off that her "best friend" would claim a connection between them to the world for popularity and decide she's not trustworthy or a true friend." Norm replied. People don't always stay best friends, after all. And while the wish may have made Ladybug think Lila was her best friend in the moment, all the OTHER things Lila had done would likely sour that quickly.

So ultimately, a waste of a wish.

Then of course, came the other problem of that wish…

“Tell us who Ladybug is or else!” Demanded the scarred and nasty-looking man, knife in hand and pointed directly at Lila.

Lila, who had been kidnapped from school that afternoon by this thug and his followers, tied to a chair, and interrogated on the one thing she would already have told everyone had she known!

“I don’t know!” Lila insisted.

“Bullshit! You’re her best friend!”

“As Ladybug! She hasn’t told me her true identity!”

Another thug scoffed. “What kind of best friend are ya, then?”

She glared at him in outrage.

Fortunately for her, that moment was interrupted as an akuma chose that time to slam through a wall a la a certain American meme.

“Lila Rossi!”

The thugs screamed in fear and either scattered or were knocked over by the falling wall. The few who remained were quickly taken care of with a zap or three from the akuma’s wand.

Thank goodness!

“Finally! It’s about time—”

But the akuma gave her no further time to speak, instead pointing his wand at her and glaring ominously.

“Tell us who Ladybug is or else.”

Lila stared.

Was the akuma serious? Was Hawk Moth serious? They were allies! He should know she isn’t actually Ladybug’s friend or anything close to an ally, so why was he sending the akuma after her?

…oh.

Oh right. The wish she made was for “Everyone”. And that included Hawk Moth, too.

“NORM!”

____________________

“I wish Ladybug would be crushed by an akuma!”

One hour later... Lila watched, seething in rage through binoculars as the akuma "Lady-Fan”, Ladybug’s apparent “#1 Fan” was taking Ladybug on a rather lovely date to a high scale restaurant the likes of which Lila herself couldn't get into.

Even Hawk Moth appeared none-too-pleased given the illuminated mask around the akuma’s face—not that the akuma herself even noticed, only having eyes for Ladybug and not about to let anything stand between her and some one-on-one time with her favorite hero.

Which would be sweet…to anyone who wasn’t Lila.

“Norm, undo it!”

Norm looked up from a movie—the Ladybug movie of all things.

“You sure you wanna use a wish on this? It’s an akuma. It’ll just be resolved on its own.”

“UnDO it. NOW.”

He sighed and snapped his fingers.

With a poof, Ladybug was suddenly alone with a very much no-longer-akumatized fan…but still in the restaurant—and since no Lucky Charm had been used, the two apparently decided to continue with their “hangout”.

Lila glared.

“There. Happy?” Norm asked.

“No! Not until Ladybug is destroyed!” Lila shouted, seemingly uncaring to the potential of anyone nearby being able to hear her.

Norm rolls his eyes before turning back to his movie with a shake of his head and a mutter about a waste of a wish.

#ml fic #ml crack #ml crossover #fairly oddparents #norm the genie #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous ladybug #lila sucks

[gabessquishytum]

Lovely to see you and welcome back the ask box!! ❤️‍🔥❤️🩷

___

For universe stability reasons, Death didn’t just "make" Hob immortal, she made him immortal in a way known to this universe. So that when she asked Dream if he wanted to tell him or should I, it was there were actually rules to his new immortality.

E.g.,

● the in universe immortals are Highlander immortals -- there can be only one, sword fights, a prize; OR

● they're The Old Guard immortals -- dreams of each other until each are met; found family; OR

● some other "established" immortals(TM)

And Dream bring an ass, just says hey wanna hang here in 100 years.....Hob has to figure it out all on his own.

This is so interesting! Just imagine if Hob got immortality but it worked as it does in Greek myth - because he forgot to ask for eternal young, he ends up withering away to nothingness while his consciousness still survives... pretty dark, huh?

If it works in the highlander way, poor Hob would certainly be in for a rough time, but he'd be okay with it. He's already a soldier risking his life by the sword all the time, it's not like he's any worse off. But by the time the modern era arrives, I think he'd be kind of bummed by the intermittent fighting to the death thing.

Alternatively he could have Jack Harkness immortality, which hinges on extraterrestrial technology, so that might actually be okay? Since Hob’s not going into space any time soon, lol.

Whatever the circumstances, this whole idea is interesting because it implies that Dream (as Prince of Stories) would hold more sway over Hob’s fate. The question is, would that make him more invested in Hob? Would it bring them closer? And would Dream ever tell Hob the truth?

#the sandman #dreamling

[pursuitseternal]

“Take My Milk for Gall:” an upcoming WIP from PursuitsEternal 🔥 UA Astarion x Fem!OC

UA Spawn Astarion x Delilah | Explicit | TBD

Summary: “I’ve taken a turn as a hero and adventurer” Astarion may not have found the slavers he’s contracted to hunt this time, but he has found one fiercely determined and mysterious female. Her tenacity is only outmatched by her secrets. But she might be just what he needs, for this quest and for more reasons than that alone.

CW: Tired, jaded hero Spawn, no Tav assumed, fem!OC is new mother, stretch marks, blood, and breast milk included, tragic past hopeful future, found family, future adoptive Dadstarion…

Tease below the cut…

Against her obviously better judgment, she tried to strike up a conversation a few times, but a terse response and a glare was enough to quiet her meager attempts. Perhaps it was the reflection of his own past, his own scars and abuse and self-loathing that made him avoid looking at her much. It wasn’t until he could hear actual tears in her voice that he stopped to listen to her pleas.

“I hear water ahead, a river. Once it’s dawn, could we stop please, I need to bathe and rest…” She looked exhausted, tired, and now pathetic.

But it did pique his conscience enough to reply. “We do need to make camp before sunrise, same as our quarry, and I do think we’ve gained on them.” He nodded to an outcrop of rocks in the hills, “I’ll make camp in this cover. Head east. The river isn’t far.” He could almost feel her relief in her bones as he directed her to find the rest she had been whining for.

Decades of repetition, some with companions, some all alone, his body made camp without a single thought about it: fire made, bedroll laid out, weapons cleaned and sharpened, tent pitched in the darkest parts of the rocky crag to keep the sun off his flesh. Supper would be dry fare for her, just some things he had scrounged from the village stores that weren’t tainted with soot. As for him, he sniffed the air looking for something warm and soon-to-be-prey, when another scent caught his nose.

Fresh blood. Female blood. The kind that came monthly, the kind he hadn’t been so exposed to since his days on the road to fight the Absolute. Yet, there was something off. “Delilah?” he called, heading towards the riverbank. He pushed through massive ferns, that scent growing stronger, now edged with something sweeter, something he had never scented before. Hurrying, his arms brushed back the thick leaves, calling her name one more time.

Her body stood in the waters, the tops of her thighs still above the surface. Dark brown and red stains covered the insides of her legs, a sight he knew. Old blood and fresh dripped down. The curves of her hips, the crest of her belly was covered in stretch lines, her skin slightly loose but no less supple. Voluptuous even. Slowly she rounded to face him, her figure in the moonlight bright against the rippling water. Her breasts, two full mounds glistening with droplets of water, achingly full, nipples hard and ripened pink. It made his mouth water against his better judgment. Her hands worked at her breast, and there was that other sweeter, strange scent.

A cup in one fist, thick streams of milk spurted into it. His eyes went wide, the shock of seeing something foreign, intimate, and… confusing. Her dark eyes sparked, almost like two nebulous voids as she locked into his gaze, but even that mysterious darkness couldn’t mask her determination.

It was a clear picture, a young mother, recent from labour and absent a babe. A long inhale is what he took as he drew towards the river’s edge. “Where’s your child?” he asked, bile and gall rising in his throat to think of the possibilities.

“She’s safe with a friend, another whore who got too ripe for business,” came the casual reply, her hand tossed the full cup of milk into the water around her naked body. Then her hands began to work the other breast. The sound of expressing milk rang against the side of the little metal cup. “I know my lass is fed and safe, but little good it does me on the road. Gotta keep myself relieved or I fear I’ll burst,” she smiled, but grin and laugh both rippled with the dark reality of their circumstances.

Astarion turned his back, apologizing. “I’m sorry… I…”

“Well, now, my hero knows why I am so desperate for my brother, and why I despair so at my… misfortune. I was to bring my babe once I had settled a bit with my brother. But with Cainan enslaved, I have no one. I have nothing.” She tossed the cup of milk into the running water again. “I don’t even have a babe to give this milk to feed,” she couldn’t hide the sigh in her throat. “What a waste.”

That tone, that despite and spite… It was too familiar, too haunting. “We won’t let it be a waste. We won’t let those slavers win,” his voice growled, an edge of ice that hadn’t lined it since Cazador’s death by his hand. “You’ll get your freedom for you and your child,” he added. And whether or not he meant it to be a vow, something settled with determination in his heart.

#happy mothers day #postpartum bodies are beautiful #dadstarion #astarion spawn #found family #adoptive Dadstarion #astarion x female oc #astarion fic #post game fic #astarion smut #hero and adventurer astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion fanfic #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 astarion #baldur’s gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin

[tartsinarat]

Pip: “this is taking forever! are you almost done using me as a cheat sheet?”

Luz: “I just need to get them just right”

Pip: “that’s what you said two hours ago >:|”

Pip only agreed to this because he’s got no idea what the deal with the glyphs is or even what they do until Luz had discovered a few and some combos already and was showing them to him/explaining it.

When Luz demonstrated the light glyph, Pip like “huh weird I don’t have that symbol on my arm” and Luz was like “ARM??” And that’s how she found out.

Luz has several questions about it because it’s obvious that they’ve been carved in and is expecting some really cool and exciting explanation because of how mysterious Pip is to her but Pip is just like “I have literally no idea? I think it’s a family thing-” which slips out without Pip meaning to.

That confuses and intrigues Luz even more than any idea she had imagined originally because it’s the first time Pip has ever mentioned even having a family to her and she just assumed that he was some Oliver Twist like orphan from the streets that Eda took in to illegally exploit child labour laws on lmao

So yeah Luz eventually goes full crazy conspiracy mode trying to figure it out and it freaks Pip out enough for him to be a bit more clear on his life to her so Luz doesn’t lose her mind.

But Pip is still extremely vague because he doesn’t trust Luz enough to not expose him or treat him differently after finding out he’s the emperor’s son. So Luz only really learns that Pip ran away from home at young age and his bio family has religious ties to the Titan so it might be a secretive religious thing that Pip was too young to learn about.

She’s slightly freaked out by just the implications of a practice where they literally carve glyphs into the arms of young kids for religious purposes and decides to not ask Pip anymore details about his life before Eda.

Then the au equivalent of hollow mind happens at some point and manages to make what Luz originally thought was the origin of Pip’s glyph’ed up arm look fine in comparison.

In hollow mind, Luz and Hunter end up accidentally stumbling into watching a portion of the process of Pip being created and only really see the aftermath of Belos chopping his arm off then attaching it as well stuffing pieces of basilisk into the Pip’s wooden husk and then finally burying the body.

The miracle of birth /j

Luz refuses to talk about this and makes Hunter promise to not tell Pip ever about it.

#the owl house #toh #original character #toh au #art #golden heir au #the owl house au #oc #owl house au #oc stuff #the golden heir au #luz noceda #luz toh #luz the human #the owl house luz

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch7 A Slight Change In Planning P2

"Akira?! What are you doing here?!"

Akira was here?! I'm the shop?! In front of you?! NOW?! WHY?! WASN'T HE SUPPOSED TO BE HALF WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY ATTENDING A FUNERAL?! Why was he back here?! He wasn't supposed to be back so soon?! You stared in shocked silence at the handsome man in front of you as he stared back with a lazy smile on his face. Mrs. Satoshi looked bewildered at you and it wasn't until then that you snapped out of your stupor-

"I mean-" You quickly cleared your throat and forced a smile. "Akira! It's so nice to see you again!" You smiled wider and tried to relax making you look as casual as possible. A hand coming up to rest on your cheek as your head tilted. "What brings you here? I thought you were going to help with your grandfather's estate in the city?"

He seemed surprised when you addressed him with a smile. Eyes going wide before he smiled again. "My father and uncle are still settling things. Turns out my grandfather had more debts than he let on so it's been a few weeks of settling things and paying them all back. Unfortunately my Uncle was worried about my poor Aunt so they sent me to take care of the family business here." He shrugged holding up his arms lazily. "Family drama. Am I right?"

You slowly nodded trying not to sweat under the anxiety rock dropped on your head. "Oh..How nice of you. What brings you to the shop though?"

Again he shrugged. "My aunt seems to think she lost something in your store." His dark eyes looked your form up and down before not so discreetly looking around the front of the shop behind you where a lot of the already grown plants were. "I figured I'd stop by and take a look around to ease her worries."

"Yes. About that.." Your boss rose a brow, hands on her hips as she looked at him. "She has been awfully rude to me and making demands to return something to her but refuses to tell me what exactly it is she wants. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to give something back if I never stole it in the first place and when I don't know what it is."

The man fell silent before turning his thinned smile over his shoulder at the woman. "Ah yes. As silly as it sounds, she seems to be under the impression that you took a couple...pet fish from her." Your body instantly froze. Akira chuckled a bit. "It's really a funny thought-"

"'Funny?' Young man, I don't find harassment, stalking, and being accused of theft 'funny'!"

He held up his hands immediately. "No disrespect, Mrs. Satoshi. I don't really think it's funny either. That's why I'm here to fix the issues. Auntie just gets paranoid easily. If you could just let me have a look around to ease her worries, I would be so grateful."

Mrs. Satoshi huffed staring down Akira with narrowed eyes. "I have nothing to hide!..But if it'll make her leave my store alone then go ahead!" She shooed him off. "You won't find any fish here. You can believe that."

Akira's smile only widened. "Thank you, Mrs. Satoshi. I promise you won't even know I'm here."

Your gaze followed his form as he turned on his heel and slowly walked around you towards the end of the large room. His eyes looking over everything with the calculation of a fine artist and his head slowly turning from side to side. You both watched him walk until he got to the end of the room until he stood in front of the closet door before he gave a small rotation of his shoulders- Without warning the door was yanked open by him so fast that it made you both flinch. He stood there a long moment looking at a broom, mop bucket, a few extra plants pots- CREAK. The door was slowly closed before his body turned back on both of you. Face neutral..Until his eyes turned to a second doorway that lead to the greenhouse connected to the shop and where all of the supplies and everything else was stored. A smirk was given towards both of you before he turned again hands in his pockets. Step after step your heads followed as he walked right up to the door and smirked at it. At you both like he won something. Before the door was quickly opened in the same fashion as the first...You saw when his smirk turned to surprise seeing nothing but rows of growing plants, stacks of fertilizer bags, and such other things-

"Well I hope you're satisfied with your little hide and seek game." Mrs. Satoshi frowned upon him before pointing out the front door to him. "Now I'm sure there's not going to be anymore trouble since clearly I don't have whatever Ms. Henya wants."

Akira stood silent for a moment before inhaling slowly and giving a stiff smile back her way. "Indeed. I guess my aunt is getting a bit confused in her old age." The door was stiffly closed. "You'll forgive us for all the trouble you endured."

"I think it'd just be best if you leave." She never stopped pointing at the door. After a few  more seconds Akira stiffly walked his way to the door. "And tell Ms. Henya she still owes me a hundred for the rose bushes. If she doesn't want to pay, then she has until the end of this month to return them before I come to collect."

Akira said nothing to that, only walking to the door creepily silent and boring his eyes into your boss's. You turned your head to look at her too to avoid looking at heim in fear he'd see any guilt on your face. Keep calm. Act casual. Don't show anything that could give you away. You didn't dare look away from the scowling face of your boss until the little bell  above the door rang out signalling he had left. A breath you were holding escaped your mouth and your body felt like a wet rag dunked in ice. 

"Good riddance. I don't know what's gotten into that family but whatever it is they had better straighten themselves out." Your boss huffed and turned to grab a small tree sapling with a bag tied around it's roots. "Y/n, come help me with these apple tree saplings. Ruki Arago will be here any minute to collect them."

"Y-Yeah. Sure."

This was bad. This was definitely, ABSOLUTELY BAD! It's one thing to have a crazy old woman skulking around looking for a trio of mermaids, but now you have to worry about Akira also stalking the town?! And on top of that there was the matter of your entire plan being thrown out the window. If the rivers were overrun with fishermen desperate to escape the terror of the sea, then it'd be too dangerous to just release them into said river. It was starting to look like the only real option was to take them to the sea directly and release them there. 

But...HOW?! 

You had no horse. No wagon. No nothing. And it's not like you could just carry them all the way there! They were a lot heavier than they looked, and it would be way to far! Not to mention it was at least a month on foot and two weeks by horse. You didn't have enough food for you and three mermaids. You weren't sure what you were going to do but you couldn't just keep them in your bathhouse forever. It wasn't good for them in the long run and sooner or later someone was bound to find them. Then it would be all over. Until then you decided to just continue on with what you've been doing for now and hopefully things would be better soon. 

"Thanks for your purchase, Y/n. It's always good to see you again. Try to stop by more often. Ok?"

The young woman smiled at you and you smiled back at her taking the small hunk of meat wrapped up in paper. "Thanks, Takano. Is there any meat scraps or chunks ready to be thrown out available?"

She nodded her pretty brunette hair matching her eyes. "Yep! Just like you asked. You're the only ones that wants all that stuff. It's a few days old." She grimaces scrunching up her face in disgust. "I dunno why anyone would bother."

"Well it's not bad, and if you cook it it'll still be fine to eat."

Takano cringed harder, sticking out her tongue in a yuck way. "Not for me! I'd rather die than let that meat touch my mouth." Shaking her head the brunette backed away pointing behind her. "I'll go get it, but it's on you to haul it away yourself."

"That's fine. Saves you all the trouble of getting rid of it yourself."

She gave you a strange look but left quickly. Once she was far away enough you sighed and reached a hand up to run your temples. How pitiful. Scraping up scrapes and scrounging for hand outs and anything else you can get your hands on just to feed yourself and three extra mouths. You weren't sure how much longer you could just put up with this stressful way of living. A scraping noise sounded out as a large basket was dragged along the floor nearly overflowing with what looked like random parts of meat. Steaks, a chicken leg or two, a few fish cutlets, ribs- Everyone else around you took a moment to stop and stare as Yuki dragged it slowly one foot at a time over to where you were standing. With a final grunt and a look of disgust she dropped it off at your feet. Embarrassment washed over your figure in waves feeling everyone stare at you like a spectacle. You didn't entirely blame them. You'd probably stare too if you saw someone just drag off days old scraps like a poor begger who couldn't afford anything. With an embarrassed and shameful feeling, you just shoved the fresh package of meat you bought on top before just grabbing onto the large handle and pulled- Holy crap! This thing was heavy. One pull up barely lifted it off the ground! What ended up happening was you struggling to pick it up a few inches off the ground, and shamelessly waddling steps towards the door. 

"Come again, Y/n!"

Yeah. Knowing how much those mermaids eat, you'd definitely be back for any more scraps. You continued waddle-walking in shame towards the doorway ignoring everyone else around you. As soon  as you got home, you had to cook up ALL of this before it did actually go bad. Waddling more and more towards the door you had gotten to it and kicked it open only to slam it partially into someone.

"Ow!", a man's voice shouted out.

"I'm so sorry!" You looked up. "I didn't mean-.." You froze. Staring at the person in front of you in horror. "Akira?!"

Akira hissed reaching one arm down to rub where the door made contact with his leg, but stopped when he saw you. He stared at you, looked at the basket awkwardly in your hands, then back to you...And then smiled. "Well..If it isn't the pretty flower lady?~ Fancy running into you here."

Darn it all! Why'd you have to run into the last person you wanted to see now?! Ever since his little visit three days ago, everything seemed to have settled down somewhat. Mrs. Henya hadn't been around since then, but you still had that awful sinking feeling. And now you had the misfortune of running into him here. Great. There was no way he didn't know about the mermaids his family imprisoned and was planning on doing who knows what with them! It made you just dislike him that much more.

"Oh. Sorry, Akira," you apologized politely keeping your true feelings hidden. "Excuse me. I need to get this all home."

You made to nudge past him but a hand on your basket and him leaning in way too close for comfort stopped you. "Now what are you doing with all this meat?" He rose a brow and smiled wider at you. "A healthy appetite for such a young lady.~"

"I-..I'm going to dry most of this for the wint-ter," you lied giving a tug on the basket, "With the lost revenue and things being so tough lately, it's good to think ahead." 

He hummed. "I agree. That's smart thinking. But you look to be struggling you poor thing. Such a delicate lady isn't used to carrying so much weight. Let me help you.~" With one yank he was easily able to lift the basket out of your hands and up into the air away from your outstretched arms. 

"What?!" Your stomach dropped in horror. "No. Really it's fine-" You went to grab it-

He held it farther from your reach. "I insist.~ You need a hand being a delicate flower.~"

You wanted to argue. Maybe kick him where the sun didn't shine and make a run for it. But there was a crowd of people around you. It might look suspicious to suddenly be hostile to Akira, and then your friends -

"....Thank you." You gritted you teeth outwardly annoyed however your face didn't seem to detour the smiling man. 

"After you, Flower.~"

You visibly cringed at the nickname. What followed was the most awkward walk of your life. You stiffly walked the ten minutes from the butcher's to your house looking straight ahead and not saying anything to the man walking next to you. The entire time you felt Akira's eyes boring holes into your head the entire way back. You never felt more relieved than you did seeing your front door so close to you. You stopped in front of the door and turned to him so suddenly it caught him off guard from the sappy, Dopey lovestruck look he was giving you the entire time. 

"We're here." The basket was yanked from from him, making you stumble from the weight all of the sudden in your hands, but you firmly pulled it towards you. "Thank you for your..help but I can take it from here. You can leave now."

He blinked. "Oh. I can help you bring that in y'know-"

"No thanks." Using a foot, you slid the door open before stepping back and dragging the large nearly overflowing basket in before standing back up in the doorway to stare at him. "You can go now. Have a good day,  Akira." You made to close the door. 

"WAIT!!" His sudden shout startled you into jumping and looking at him as he shuffled. "Look. I know we don't know each other a whole lot but I got a lot to offer." He started holding up a hand and rubbing his neck with the other as you just stared. "My family has a good business and I come from a pretty successful line."

"Akira, what are you getting at with this?"

"Would you possibly consider a marriage with me?" You stared at him. Mind going a blank as he hopefully smiled at you. 

"After what I've seen of your family?" You frowned at him harder. "Akira you of all men are THE farthest thing I'd ever want my husband to be. We are never going to be compatible. You should look elsewhere if you want to find a wife. Try Old Lady Rayko. She's a matchmaker after all. Now if you excuse me, I have a lot of meat to cook before it goes bad."

His shocked face was met with the door closing in his face and the distant sounds of grunts and a large basket being dragged away from the door. Three heads looked at each other in the next few rooms over shuffling in frustration.

"HOW DARE HE?! HE'S GOING TO TAKE Y/N AWAY AND WE'RE NEVER GONNA SEE HER AGAIN!!"

"Pipe down snails for brains! Do you want her to hear us eavesdropping?!"

Suma whined when Makio shoved her head underwater to shush her cries. Hinatsuru sighed again shaking her head and making her sparkly earrings away. 

"Now stop that. If you don't stop fighting, then she'll really hear you."

"HE CAN'T HAVE HER!! HE'S CRUEL AND DOESN'T DESERVE HER!!" Suma pouted sticking her cheeks out.

"I agree." Makio stunned them both with her sudden agreement but she pointed at them. "What? It's not like you two weren't thinking the same thing for a few weeks now. Let's just take her with us."

"Well there's an underlying problem with that."

"What's the problem? We all like her don't we?"

Hinatsuru sighed harder. "Well here's the thing. You both like her. I like her. But the question is will Kyojuro and more importantly Lord Tengen like her?" 

Both fell silent at that.. before Suma spoke up. "I'm sure they will! We just have to get them to meet her first! Tengen is sure to love her! She's 'flashy'!" 

Neither of the others had time to answer her when footsteps approached and a moment later you opened the door with a smile. "Hey. Dinner's going to be a little late tonight since I have to cook it, but on the bright side I have enough food to last you three for the next three days. I just wanted to let you know."

Hinatsuru smiled brightly at you. Unbeknownst to you the scheming they were going to have that night. "Sounds wonderful. Thank you."

You were quickly running out of food at this rate. The only things left in your pantry was jars of jelly and pickled vegetables and soon those will be gone too especially since it turns out Suma really liked downing jelly from your jars with how sweet it was. The scraps and leftovers you managed to scrape up will help you but not in the long run. Not with the shortage of everything thanks to that merman driving everyone away and making prices rise and everyone panic. Just this morning you saw a family packing up to move away from the seemingly doomed town. And all of this was the fault of the Henyas. Their greedy actions weren't just hurting your friends but the entire town of innocent people too. Something had to be done soon. You just weren't sure what yet.

"I'm going to go fish in the nearby river." You announced one day to the three. "There's probably not a lot of everyone else is fishing in there already, but I'll probably be able to catch enough for you to eat."

"Alright. I feel a storm in the air. Be careful and come back before the storm hits."

#demon slayer #kimetsu gakuen #kimetsu no yaiba #Kny #tengen x rengoku #tengen x reader #demon slayer tengen #kny tengen #tengen uzui #uzui tengen #suma uzui #kny uzui #demon slayer uzui #hinatsuru uzui #makio uzui #makio x reader #kny makio #suma x reader #hinatsuru x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku x reader #kny kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #kyojuro x y/n #kyogai x reader #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro rengoku #demon slayer kyojuro #kyojuro x you

[autumnslance]

send SWOONED for a scene from my muse's past in which they were infatuated with someone

(C'oretta knew Thancred before the other ladies did...)

“And he’s got the nicest arms just all thick and muscular and goes up into brad shoulders and a really muscular back and can swing me around like I weigh nothing—”

“Well you are rather tiny,” Thancred blithely interrupted.

C’oretta continued with only the barest nod of acknowledgement. “--And he’s very careful I don’t think he’s letting me drop him to the mat but it’s a lot of fun to get him on the ground and—”

“And you can stop there now, thank you,” Thancred replied firmly, pressing a hushing finger over the young miqo’te’s mouth. “I cannot hear anymore.”

“Oh come on Thancred I have no one else to talk to about this sort of thing!”

“What about Chuchuto?”

C’oretta sighed dramatically. “She said she doesn’t want to hear it again I don’t know why unless she’s jealous cuz she isn’t dating anyone but then she never goes looking so I dunno if she’s waiting for someone to come to her which I guess would make sense cuz that’s how I find half my boyfriends.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “What about Momodi?”

“She’s too nosy auntie about it.”

“Fair point. Still not sure how I was nominated to hear about your love life, however.” He had made acquaintance with the girl because of Momodi’s suspicion she had the Echo. He had not quite bargained for…this.

She rolled her big blue eyes. “You have that know it all older brother thing going on but can also keep secrets but also a protective streak so if someone’s a jerk you’ll find out and tell me so it all works out.”

He narrowed his eyes and tried to figure out what she meant by that when she looked past him, ears and tail pointing up as she made a gleeful little squeak. “Oh there he is now so we’ll have to talk more later about that other thing and catch up say hi to Minfilia for me ‘kay?”

And she bounced off, her tight top showing far too much bounce for a girl her age in Thancred's opinion, as she bound up to her latest paramour.

Thancred looked again, and suppressed a groan. He really shouldn’t get involved. Except he was certain he had seen that young man around some fellows Thancred knew to be Alacran, and C’oretta was far too nice a girl to be mixed up in that, possible Echo or no.

He put aside the other things she had said in her rapid-fire speech. This was strictly Scion business, naught more, to help a potential Walker young and frisky enough to swoon over a new interest every week.

#final fantasy xiv #lyn writing #Punchy Prompts #Thancred Waters #Ul'dah #backstory #C'oretta Khell

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 20. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (no smut)

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Minor character deaths, violence

Summary: The final battle of Hogwarts

A/N: The last chapter 😢 an epilogue is on the way. This has been a blast. Thank you for reading. ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 20: Avada Kedavra

The courtyard is eerily quiet when you and McLaggen skid to an abrupt halt on the rubble. A long streak of blood is painted across the cobblestone. And even though the thought of what caused it turns your stomach, instantly your mind begins playing it out. A faceless Death Eater blasted across the cloister. Or maybe it was a student dragging themselves away from the fighting. Or perhaps it’s the evidence of someone being tenderly carried off to somewhere safer. Assuming there’s anywhere safe left.

“Where is everyone?” The question, more to yourself than McLaggen, hangs in the chilled night air, icy on your skin after the pitch's fiery chaos. He holds one of the now-dilapidated oak front doors open and crumbling mortar silently dusts your heads and shoulders as you pass through the threshold. From a distance, you spot a familiar figure, carrying someone over one shoulder as they walk across the Entrance Hall. 

“Wood?” calls McLaggen.

At least one of your group is still alive. 

Oliver Wood stops in his tracks and turns, his face solemn. The realisation that the body he carries is dead and not simply injured hits you with sickening force. A young boy, blonde and no older than sixteen, hangs limp in his grasp.

“Colin Creevey,” says Wood sadly, in answer to the unasked question on the tip of your tongue. “He must have snuck back in through the Hog’s Head passageway to fight. He was only a kid.”

“Here, let me help,” says McLaggen. 

“It’s alright, mate - he’s -” Wood swallows with difficulty, the sentiment choking in his throat. “He’s only a wee thing.”

“Where - where are the others?” You’re surprised when your voice too is hoarse, barely a whisper. “Did you all get back to the castle alright?”

“We did,” says Wood as you and McLaggen fall into step with him, walking back towards the Great Hall. “But once we got back it was pandemonium. We were split up. I think the girls are in the Great Hall but some of the lads and I have been busy out here - helping carry bodies back and hoping that we don’t see anyone we know.”

The lads. You breathe a sigh of relief because it means Carmichael, Davies and Krum are all right too.

“We’ll be fine,” says McLaggen determinedly. “We’re all good fighters. Not kids like Colin -”

Wood shakes his head. “It’s not just kids like Colin - members of the Order of the Phoenix are dead. You remember Professor Lupin? He’s dead. And Fred Weasley.”

“Fred Weasley?” McLaggen halts. “Back when we were in the D.A. he was one of the best.” He says it matter-of-factly like Wood must be mistaken. 

“Gone,” says Wood with a sniff. “There were at least twenty bodies when I last left the Great Hall. And we keep finding more.” 

A heavy silence accompanies you into the Great Hall, where the reality of war is laid bare. The sky above the enchanted ceiling is pitch black. There’s not a single star in the sky visible. Dark clouds loom so claustrophobically close it’s a wonder there’s any air in the hall at all. Dozens of the fallen are lined up along the centre of the room. Some with crying families at their side, and some, you realise with a sinking feeling, are completely alone. 

Your eyes scour the room searching for your own loved ones. At this side of the row of bodies nearest you, there’s a crowd that can only be Fred Weasley’s family. Relief washes over you as you spot Angelina, at the edge of the group, sobbing on Alicia’s shoulder.

Another two who are still alive.

But your relief is short-lived when you see only Leanne and Katie at the far end of the hall, crowded around someone on the floor. 

Panic makes the hair on your arm rise. 

You break into a run, heart pounding, as you pass by too many bodies to count, each step fuelled by a mix of hope and dread. Leanne and Katie look up at your arrival, still holding each other, tears streaking down their faces. 

Cho is kneeling on the floor, holding the lifeless hand of a girl. She has the same long, wavy, auburn hair as Marietta. But it can’t be Marietta. Eddie isn’t here. And besides, she’s covered in dust, with pieces of rubble strewn in her hair. Marietta was always fussy about her appearance. She wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this.

McLaggen catches up with you and stops dead, momentarily stunned by the scene before him. “Fuck… Marietta.” His whisper hits you like a slowing charm.

“That’s not - it’s not -” Your legs feel like lead as you take a step closer. “I don’t think it’s Marietta - I mean, her face is…” That’s not Marietta’s face. Where are her scars? You sink to your knees across from Cho to get a closer look at the girl’s face. If you look hard enough, maybe it won’t be true. You’ll find some difference. A freckle or a piercing that proves this isn’t Marietta. 

“The curse must have died with her,” Cho murmurs, her voice quiet with grief as a tear drips onto Marietta’s serene, unblemished face. 

“She’s so beautiful,” sobs Leanne. “I mean - not that she wasn’t before -“

Fuck.

The truth hits hard. Undeniable. Raw.

It is her. 

“She was beautiful,” you agree, your voice breaking as a surge of memories overwhelms you, letting the tears flow unguarded. “Before the curse, when she had the curse and - and after.”

After. You never thought there would be a time after Marietta. Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, Marietta Edgecombe was there. After the sorting ceremony, you found yourself sitting across from her at the Ravenclaw table. You still remember the way she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and whispered something that made Cho giggle when Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his beginning-of-term speech. And it was at that point she had first seemed so different to you then. She loved gossip and fashion and makeup and boys - the two of you never really saw eye to eye. Mostly because you insisted you ‘weren’t like other girls’. 

But Marietta eventually showed you that you weren’t so different to other girls after all. And that other girls had their own interests just like you. It took longer than you’d like to admit to figure out that liking flying instead of Transfiguration didn’t make you superior. And so, Marietta transfigured your dress for Slughorn’s party. And you taught her how to fly a broom well enough to go on a dangerous mission to Azkaban. 

You suppose, if you let yourself think about the sad truth of it, her scars were probably the reason why she was so good at Transfiguration. She had spent a long time when you were still at Hogwarts, in the dormitory mirror with her wand pointed at her face, trying to rid herself of the scars that spelt ‘SNEAK’ across her cheeks and nose.

“How did she…?” The question dies in your throat as you look at Cho, not sure if you're ready to hear the answer. But she shakes her head. She doesn’t know. “I mean, where did you find her? And where’s Carmichael? Wasn’t he with her?” Eddie would know what had happened. “Does he even know she’s…?”

“We don’t have any answers,” says Katie not unkindly but it’s clear that your incessant questioning isn’t helping when they’re just as lost as you.

“Wood said that the guys were helping with the bodies,” McLaggen reminds you. “Maybe they’ll know more. They’ll be back in a… oh, fuck.”

McLaggen’s voice trails off and you look up to see why. 

Krum and Davies walk along the length of the hall, carrying a body. Krum holding under the arms and Davies carrying the legs. As they move, Krum clenches his jaw and Davies stares straight ahead solemnly.

“Nonononono…” you whimper, getting to your feet to get out of the way so that they can set the body down next to Marietta. Your hands reach for McLaggen’s and his find you, neither of you daring to take your eyes off of the body being carried towards you as you grasp at each other’s forearms for something - anything - to cling onto. 

Krum and Davies set the lifeless figure down and step out of the way. Nobody says anything for a long time as you stare down at them.

The echo of a mischievous smile is still etched on Eddie Carmichael’s face, even in death. You half expect his eyes to fly open. “Only winding you up, mucker,” he’d say, sitting upright and dusting himself off. And you’d roll your eyes and slap his arm for worrying you so. For letting the practical joke play out too long.

It’s not a joke. No matter how much you want it to be.

Carmichael. 

Your last shred of hope turns to dust. Even in Azkaban, Carmichael was a vial of Awakening Potion - the jolt of energy you needed to turn the tide in the depths of your despair. He almost made Azkaban feel like a game. Reminded you that being locked up was just a temporary situation - something that would pass. But this? This is permanent. 

“Where - where did you find him?” asks McLaggen. His voice is thick, barely recognisable.

Davies clears his throat. “Near the staircase behind the tapestry on the sixth floor. Longbottom said it was where he found Marietta.”

They were together.

McLaggen winces at Davies’ words and shuts his eyes momentarily, unable to bring himself to look at the lifeless figures of Marietta Edgecombe and Eddie Carmichael. You, on the other hand, can’t look away. 

The dust coating their faces makes them look almost blue-tinged. The remnants of an explosion, perhaps? The broken bits of rubble are still stuck in Marietta’s hair. Trembling slightly, you crouch down to try to disentangle them with your fingers, careful not to pull at her scalp. 

It’s no good. 

While you’ve never had an eye for Transfiguration like Marietta, you extract McLaggen’s dad’s wand from your pocket and press it gently at the pieces of rubble and one by one, transfigure them into tiny, blue forget-me-nots. 

To an onlooker, she might seem merely asleep, her hair adorned with forget-me-nots as if chosen by her own hand on a sunny day at Seafarer's Beacon. This small touch of beauty, reminiscent of the way her paper snowflakes once danced around the lighthouse stairwell or the summer wreath she hung on the front door just yesterday, captures the essence of Marietta's spirit. 

She always had an eye for making this world a little more beautiful.

Cho waves her wand in a complicated figure of eight and a wreath of the same forget-me-nots flourishes into existence. She places it silently at Eddie’s head before the two of you stand up and join the rest in quiet mourning. 

“You okay?” you whisper to McLaggen, noticing his ashen face. His brow furrows as if silently debating something internally. 

“How long have we got before the fighting starts again?” he asks the group, breaking the silence, his words piercing the heavy air.

“Not long I reckon,” says Davies.

McLaggen’s demeanour shifts, a firm look of determination on his face. “Potter needs to hand himself in… Where is he?” He looks around the room with an intense, measured sort of calm that you’ve only witnessed once before. When he stood up in the Black Dragon and asked Marcus Flint to step outside. “I’ll hand him over myself if I have to.” 

“Vot is this?” asks Krum as McLaggen makes to leave.

“Not gonna happen,” Davies tells McLaggen firmly, stepping in front of him.

“If he’d just handed himself over right at the start then Ed and Marietta would still be alive.” McLaggen tries to push past but Davies moves again.

“Handing over Potter isn’t going to bring them back -” says Davies.

For the first time, McLaggen raises his voice, drawing the attention of mourners in the hall. “How many more of us are going to have to die for him?!”

“Cormac -” you start and reach for his hand. “Marietta and Carmichael wouldn’t have wanted us to turn him in.”

“We don’t know what they’d have wanted,” he says bitterly and your own face screws up in anguish, fighting tears and unable to find the words to argue with him. 

But before anyone else can argue with him an amplified voice causes the noise in the Great Hall to halt into momentary silence.

“Harry Potter is dead!” 

The last word bounces around the stone walls. Dead. Dead. Dead.

There’s murmuring and hushing as You-Know-Who’s disembodied voice calls every survivor to attention. Everyone looks skywards as if it’ll make the words clearer. Make them make sense.

“He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him,” the voice continues. 

You’d be the first to admit you’re not Potter’s biggest fan but from everything you’ve heard about it, you know he has the same selfless, noble streak that McLaggen and the rest of your Gryffindor friends have - and you can’t imagine any of them running away to save themselves. You furrow your eyebrows together and look at Katie - she knows Potter best. As expected, she mirrors your thoughts with a firm shake of her head.

“He wouldn’t -” Katie starts, but the voice cuts her off.

“We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered. As will every member of their family.” 

The seven of you gather close as you hold your breath waiting to hear what will happen to you.

“Come out of the castle now. Kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brother and sisters will live and be forgiven and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

McLaggen shakes his head. “It - it can’t all have been for nothing. Breaking them all out of Azkaban - it - it’s just can’t.”

“He’s lying. Harry’s not - he’s not dead,” says Cho with an air of trying to convince herself that it’s the truth. 

You look over to where Fred Weasley’s body lies and see that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are looking around frantically for the missing member of their trio. The pair stumble into a run, leaving the Great Hall and the rest of the survivors begin following them. 

If Harry Potter isn’t dead then why are his two best friends panicking?

You stay rooted to the spot. “Look, we can’t go out there. No matter what You-Know-Who said about sparing us - Cerys told me that Muggleborns and traitors will be killed.”

“Well, we’re not going out there to surrender,” says McLaggen. “We’re going out there to fight.”

Everyone breaks into squabbling.

“They’re going to kill us,” you insist, feeling helpless as you point out the impending death sentence.

“We can’t just stay in here,” says Katie.

“Angelina and Alicia are going,” points out Leanne.

You feel like you’re going mad. Desperation grips you as you beg them to understand. “A Death Eater told me herself that they’re going to execute the Muggleborns and force purebloods into Death Eater families.”

Davies finally chimes in, siding with caution. “I agree with Keeps. They’ll slaughter us all.”

“Not if I kill him first,” says McLaggen, straightening up but his change in demeanour makes your blood run cold.

“Kill who?” asks Cho. “You’re not talking about killing You-Know-Who, are you?”

McLaggen pauses, his gaze fixed on the distant double doors. When he speaks, his voice is clear, and full of resolve. “Not You-Know-Who. Voldemort.” 

The use of the taboo name is heavy in the air for a split second as a silent shock ripples through the group. McLaggen begins to march forward, his steps deliberate, pulling the rest of you from your stupor as you scramble to keep pace, murmurs of disbelief echoing behind him.

Wait - what?

He follows the direction of the crowd leaving the Great Hall.

“Cormac - wait - no,” you panic, pulling on his arm but he keeps walking as you practically jog to keep up with his long strides. “Cormac?” 

“McLaggen, what are you playing at, mate?” Davies too tries to get Cormac’s attention while you march.

McLaggen’s eyes darken, a flash of the recent pain  “No, we end this. I kill Voldemort. If I finish him off, Marietta and Eddie won’t have died for nothing…” 

“No, Cormac -” 

“I think ve need a plan,” Krum says looking slightly wary.

“There’s no time for a plan. All I need is one shot. One clear shot,” he says, staring ahead defiantly as you join the back of the moving crowd. 

“Cormac McLaggen, will you listen to me?!” Your voice is unusually shrill, half-choked with fear and desperation, as you plant yourself firmly in his path, forcing him to confront you. “You can’t just ‘take a shot’ at him. There’ll be protective enchantments. And even if by some miracle you breach those, it’ll be as good as suicide.”

Cormac halts and looks down into your eyes sadly. “You said it yourself - we’re all dead anyway. To them, we’re nothing but a bunch of traitors and Muggleborns.”

“I should be the one to do it, then,” you plead. “You’re from a pureblood family. You might still have a chance.” He shakes his head, dismissing the idea and you flare up. “And why not? I’m just as capable as you.”

“You are capable,” he insists. “But I should be the one to do it.”

“Why?” demands Cho, her voice sharp.

“I’m done for when they find out I killed the Minister for Magic’s daughter.” 

“And they’ll let the rest of us walk free?” asks Cho rhetorically. “Umbridge has been looking for us since all this started. If she’s anything to do with the new regime - she’ll make sure that we’re first to go. She’ll probably - she’ll probably frame us for Marietta’s death.” The idea leaves a bitter scowl on her face. Of course, Umbridge would. What a sympathetic story it’d make too. Marietta Edgecombe - Umbridge’s secretary. Kidnapped by the D.A. and killed in battle. 

“As much as I don’t like the idea of going out there without a plan, we’re running out of time and there’s nowhere else left to go,” says Davies resignedly as the seven of you look beyond the double doors at the courtyard. “So if any of us get the chance we should take it.”

“Exactly,” says Krum. “Ve train together, ve fight together.”

“I say if anyone gets close enough to You-Know - I mean - Voldemort, we do it. The Killing Curse,” says Katie.

Leanne nods. “I agree.”

You and McLaggen exchange a determined look. One last mission. Together.

“Alright,” McLaggen says, addressing everyone with a confidence reminiscent of the sort you usually have when rousing your Quidditch team. “Alright. Let’s do this. Let’s kill Voldemort.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The remnants of Dumbledore’s Army huddle together in the devastated courtyard. 

Harry Potter is dead.

The grim truth of it is laid bare for everyone to see in the slowly lightening darkness that precedes the dawn as you gaze at his body lying limp in Hagrid’s arms as he sobs.

The lump in your throat isn’t so much for Potter as for what he represented, what his death means for you and your friends. Marietta is dead. Carmichael is dead. You and the rest of the D.A. will probably join them soon. If McLaggen isn’t executed he’ll be married off to some other Death Eater. You hold onto McLaggen’s hand tight, barely listening to Voldemort addressing the crowd as you instead silently count each second your hand is in his before you’re inevitably separated. 

You watch as Hagrid is instructed to place Potter on the ground at his feet.

Voldemort paces in front of the crowd, his giant snake wrapped around his shoulders as he points to Potter’s dead body. “He was nothing - ever - but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him.”

“He beat you!” yells Ron Wealsey, a few places down to your left. You try to shrink back, away from the attention he’s bringing to your group but McLaggen holds fast - the same look of defiance painted on his face as is on Weasley’s. 

To your horror, McLaggen shouts, “Your Death Eaters were losing!” Members of the D.A. and several others in the crowd cry out in dissent too. 

“Cormac,” you plead. The idea of any of you breaking through the void between the survivors and Death Eaters to aim a Killing Curse at Voldemort seems like a childish fantasy now that you’re out here, facing him. You just want to slip away. The last thing you want is for any of the D.A. to be made a humiliating example of. You look at the army facing you. They outnumber you by at least five to one. You’re starting to realise that the best you can hope for is a quick death. “Please don’t draw attention to yourself.”

There’s a bang and a flash of light and you flinch when Voldemort silences the crowd.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds. Killed while trying to save himself -”

But Voldemort’s voice breaks off when you’re jostled to the side as Neville Longbottom breaks through the clutch of D.A. members and charges at him. Clearly, your group weren’t the only ones who planned to take a shot at Voldemort to end this once and for all. There are more bangs and flashes when Neville is disarmed and knocked to the ground and another silencing charm is cast over the crowd.

“And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

Just as you were afraid of. The first dissenter to be made an example of. You clutch onto McLaggen as Bellatrix Lestrange catches Neville’s wand and taunts him. Neville eventually gets to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the Hogwarts survivors and the Death Eaters. 

“Neville Longbottom… But you are a pureblood aren’t you, my brave boy?”

“So what if I am?” he spits back.

“You show spirit and bravery. And you come of noble stock. You will make a valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over!” shouts Neville before turning and raising his fist in the direction of the survivors. “Dumbledore’s Army!”

The silencing charm breaks and your friends jeer at Voldemort in response. 

Your own voice is lost in your throat.

“Very well. Are there any more purebloods who, like Neville, will refuse to join my Death Eaters?”

“You’re damn right!” calls McLaggen. “Like hell, we’ll join you!”

You want to clap your hand over his big fat mouth but before you can other survivors join in the yelling.

“Yeah!” echoes Ron Weasley. “We’d rather die!”

“Ah, but you misunderstand me,” replies You-Know-Who in his snakelike whisper. “Too much magical blood has been spilt already and you are valuable. Pureblood families are dying out. Extinguished by those who choose to mate with Mudbloods and muggles.”

McLaggen lets go of your hand and slips his hand into his pocket, finding his wand.

“Don’t!” You hiss through your teeth, pulling at his arm.

McLaggen ignores you and stares straight ahead, looking at Voldemort defiantly. “And so what if we are? Being pureblooded doesn’t mean anything!”

“Another like Neville Longbottom who refuses to join my Death Eaters?” asks Voldemort, looking directly at McLaggen amongst the collection of D.A. members and the remaining Gryffindor students. “Come forward, unless you are afraid that your Mudblood sympathies have made you weak.”

McLaggen moves his arm so that his wand is hidden behind his back and takes a step forward.

“No! No, stop! Cormac!” You don’t bother hushing your voice this time as you realise he’s actually about to stand beside Neville. You cling onto him frantically with all your might, begging him not to step forward. But you’re not the only one shrieking. 

“Ron!” You look over to see Granger, attempting to pull Ron Weasley back too.

“Come now! Come!” laughs Voldemort. “Don’t be shy. Come forward and I’ll show you just how useful those from noble bloodlines will be in the new world.”

“Cormac!” you sob, pulling his arm so tightly that you think you might rip his arm from his socket. He takes another two steps and your feet slide on the uneven rubble underfoot. With a solemn look, he places his hand over yours and eases them off his arm. You look desperately over at Granger and she too has had her grip wrenched free from Weasley. For just a second, the two of you lock eyes in helpless, shared understanding.

You let go of Cormac and almost fall to your knees when he and Weasley join Longbottom but before you collapse, Cho and Krum catch under your arms, stopping you from crumbling as you try to remember how to breathe again.

Voldemort's voice cuts through the tense air. "Those of you who stand before me refuse to acknowledge the way things are now," he declares, his gaze sweeping over the brave three standing in defiance. “You may not become Death Eaters… but your children will.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a mix of fear and outrage simmering among the gathered survivors. Voldemort turns to face his supporters. “Now, where is the Minister for Magic? Thicknesse?” Pius Thicknesse steps forward, his long, dark hair danker than you remember it from when you first met him last summer. "Have your daughter bring forth the girls," he commands, his voice echoing ominously across the courtyard. "Let these ancient and noble pureblood families be joined as one."

Thicknesse’s bloodshot eyes dart around edgily. “My Lord - I - I cannot find her.”

“You won’t,” says McLaggen and you exhale a weak groan. The last shred of hope you had that McLaggen might make it through this act of defiance disapparates in an instant. “She’s dead. I made sure of it.”

Thicknesse, fueled by a mix of grief and rage, attempts to barrel through Voldemort’s supporters, his eyes set on McLaggen with a vengeance. But before Thicknesse can reach him, Voldemort, with a flick of his wand, halts Thicknesse's charge.

Voldemort's gaze lands on McLaggen, his curiosity piqued. "And who is this?" he inquires, his voice cold yet amused, as he looks from the distraught Thicknesse to the defiant McLaggen.

"That's the boy she wanted. The one she - my Cerys - asked to be promised to, my lord," Thicknesse says, raising a quivering finger at McLaggen.

Voldemort laughs. A high-pitched, chilling laugh. "I can see why - he's a handsome one," he remarks as he steps towards McLaggen who remains steadfast. Unflinching. "No matter," Voldemort continues, turning away from McLaggen and dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand as if Cerys’s death were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience. "There are plenty of suitable matches from other families willing to produce heirs -"

"I'll kill the next one too,” says McLaggen and Neville and Weasley look at him in agreement. “We all will. If you force any of us into pure-blood marriages against our will, we'll make sure that the bloodlines end with us."

Voldemort pauses and turns around slowly as if hardly daring to believe that McLaggen has spoken out so openly. “Too much magical blood has been wasted already tonight... although perhaps I can make an exception," he muses, his gaze still fixed on McLaggen. "Your bloodline, at least, will end with you."

"And so will yours," says McLaggen. And even though you can’t see his face, you can tell he’s wearing that confident, intense look that so often precedes him doing the impossible. 

And just for a second, you think it’s happening. Against the odds, McLaggen, who has saved your skin countless times now, is about to save everyone for good. McLaggen. The Keeper. About to make the save that defines the wizarding world as you know it.

But before McLaggen can even extend his wand, Voldemort, with a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes, utters, "Avada Kedavra!" 

McLaggen’s body falls to the ground, lifeless, just as quickly and easily as the falling Quidditch stands on the pitch.

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth not sure whether you’re about to scream or vomit. The sound that escapes your lips is torn from the depths of your soul, as you witness the love of your life crumple in a heap on the rubble. 

Your heart shatters beyond repair. 

Each cracked piece is a kiss, a memory, a dream for your future, now lost forever.

“No!” come the shocked cries of Katie and Leanne. 

“Cormac…” sobs Cho, still holding you up, though her tight grip falters in shock.

“I’ll kill him myself,” says Krum, letting you go and attempting to push past to get to Voldemort.

But it’s Neville who is closest. The jinx holding him breaks and he charges forward unarmed and wandless toward Voldemort who reacts quicker once more and halts him with a body-bind curse.

As one, the Death Eaters raise their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

“Gryffindor arrogance!” screams Voldemort. “But no more.” Voldemort points his wand to the sky and everyone except you looks up. Your eyes are still fixed on McLaggen’s body on the stone floor as Voldemort’s snake slithers between McLaggen and Potter menacingly. “There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts school. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”

McLaggen is only metres away but your heart thuds in your chest watching the snake slither along the courtyard. Feeling faint again, you remember how you huddled around the kitchen table in the lighthouse listening to reports on Potterwatch about how the snake carries out Voldemort’s bidding. The rumours that Voldemort feeds people he’s killed to the snake. 

The thought is so horrifying, so all-consuming, that you barely notice Voldemort catching the Sorting Hat from mid-air and forcing it onto Neville’s head. 

It’s only when Neville’s scream splits the dawn that you look up and watch in horror as Neville rooted in place, writhes on the spot wearing the burning hat on his head.

And then, so many things happen simultaneously that you feel your head spinning.

There’s uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounds like hundreds of people swarm over the out-of-sight walls, yelling at the top of their lungs as they charge towards the courtyard. Residents of Hogsmeade. Parents of students. Joining the fray.

Then come hooves and the twangs of bows. And arrows suddenly land amongst the Death Eaters on Voldemort’s side who break rank and scramble, shouting in surprise as the centaurs continue to attack.

Cormac McLaggen’s death has given everyone a second wind. The fact that it’s what he’d have wanted is of no comfort to you.

In one swift, fluid motion Neville breaks free of the body-bind curse upon him, the hat falls off of him and he draws from its depths something long and silver with a glittering rubied hand. The slash of the silver blade is silent amongst the pandemonium of the crowd and stampeding centaurs yet it draws every eye, including your own. 

With a single stroke, Neville slices off the head of the great snake’s head which spins high into the air. And Voldemort’s mouth is open in a scream of fury that nobody can hear. The snake’s body thuds to the ground.

You panic, as fighting resumes and people run in all directions. You can’t let them trample McLaggen’s. Or Potter’s if you can help it.

“Harry? Where’s Harry?!” bellows Hagrid, above the almighty chaotic racket.

A jet of light whizzes over your heads and you duck. You keep low as you sprint over to McLaggen’s body, determined to move his body away from the fighting. 

McLaggen lies alone. Potter is gone.

You panic some more. This time panicking that Potter’s body has been taken by the Death Eaters to be paraded like some kind of trophy. You won’t let that happen to McLaggen. 

You scramble over to him and hook your arms under his, pulling his dead weight towards a corner of the courtyard. Even though a wand is in your pocket, you don’t even think about pulling it out and joining the fight. You don’t even think about casting a shied charm. All you think about is getting McLaggen’s body out of the way. 

But you needn’t worry. Perhaps everyone is too busy fighting to pay attention to the girl with the burned clothes and the tear-streaked face heaving a corpse into a corner. From your peripheral senses, you can tell even as you drag him away, that the fighting in the courtyard is thinning out as the fighters run into the caste. 

Your resolve hardens. You’ll rejoin them soon, now Cormac’s body is shielded behind what’s left of this wall. You just need a second. 

A second to say goodbye.

You collapse in a pile beside him in the empty courtyard and press the heels of your palms into your eyes, stemming the tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at his face, knowing that the green eyes under his closed lids will never see yours again.

“What a stupid plan,” you choke, wondering aloud as you wipe your eyes. “Thinking we could take on Voldemort. And then you actually tried it…”

You try to steady your breathing, feeling your hot breath stick to your grimy palms as you cover your face. The humidity of your own air makes your stomach twist. It brings back memories of laughing under the duvet cover in Seafarer’s Beacon, face to face with McLaggen, intensely close as your eyes roamed over that trademark arrogant smirk on his face,

“You bloody arrogant git,” you sniff, the words a mix of endearment and despair, a tribute to the man who dared to challenge the darkness with his unyielding self-assurance.

Then, the faintest movement - a murmur so soft it might be mistaken for the wind.

“I’m dead and you’re still calling me a git?” 

Your eyes snap open, heart caught between hope and disbelief. The world tilts, reality warping at the edges as you stare at McLaggen. Solid, unmistakably alive, his presence defies every certainty that death had claimed him. "McLaggen?" Your voice is a tremble, a prayer whispered against the tide of despair that had nearly consumed you.

“So it’s McLaggen again, is it?” he asks blearily, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at you. “I must have done something to annoy you again.”

He’s alive?

Or… maybe you died too? You pinch yourself to see if you can feel pain. Hard. 

You can.

You blink dumbfounded at the cautiously expectant look on McLaggen’s face. He can’t be alive. He just can’t be. You’d never be that lucky. Out of instinct, you pinch him too to check if he’s real.

“Ow!” he winces.

He is alive.

You blink in disbelief as the tiniest smirk crosses his face. “I - how?” 

“Lucky charm,” says Cormac as with difficulty he brings his hand up to the chest pocket of his t-shirt and tries to extract something.

“What the-” You're breathless, caught in the sway between joy and the lingering shadow of sorrow.

“Just - look.” 

Once you’ve helped him take the Polaroid out of his shirt pocket you recognise it immediately. A selfie of you and Cormac in the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. The one you used to use as a bookmark. A snapshot from what seems like a lifetime ago. Except there’s a burned scar on it now. Right through the middle.

“I think that this -" he touches the photo in your hand, "- took the brunt of the Killing Curse. And somehow, it spared me.”

“Cormac,” you say gently, given that he’s just woken up after being an inch away from death. “That’s not how the Killing Curse works. You can’t be saved by - by love.” 

But even as you say the word love, something prickles on the back of your neck. And to give him credit, he has a point.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” asks McLaggen. His stern look, so assuringly familiar, grounds you, reminding you of the countless times his stubbornness had been a beacon in darker days.

“Maybe it was the picture,” you concede softly, brushing his curly hair, feeling something warm and wet. Blood. “Your head is bleeding -”

Yells of shock and cheers erupt from the Great Hall, interrupting your reasoning.

“Harry?”

“He’s alive!”

The mix of distant exclamations makes you both freeze. 

“It sounds like Potter wasn’t killed by Voldemort’s Killing Curse either…” you say, looking in the direction of the castle doors. When you turn back to face McLaggen he’s frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” he says, touching the back of his head.

“Cormac, are you annoyed because you’re not the only one who survived the Killing Curse tonight?”

“Let’s go back - the others might need our help,” says McLaggen, ignoring the question. You get to your feet and offer him a hand to get up which he accepts, straining with effort as he does.

“It’s alright if you are,” you offer, helping him onto his feet. "Annoyed, I mean."

“Well, nobody’s going to remember I survived it if Potter is alive too.” McLaggen puts an arm around your shoulder and you brace yourself to support him but he doesn’t need it. He just pulls you close as you walk through the courtyard - if it wasn’t for the devastation it would feel exactly like how the two of you used to walk around Hogwarts. McLaggen with his arm around you, your body slotting into the crux of his arm like you were always meant to be there.

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help,” Harry’s voice rings loudly from the hall as you slowly ascend the castle steps. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”

Of course, it’s got to be Potter. 

“Cormac, when they write the history books nobody’s gonna remember anything we did. It’s Potter’s story. We’re just the background characters,” you say.

“Well, I can think of a few people who’ll remember,” says McLaggen, nodding to the rest of the D.A. just visible through the doors of the Great Hall as the crowd of onlookers watch Potter and Voldemort circling each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your friends sit at what used to be the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom is talking to Michael Corner and Terry Boot while Terry admires the great, ruby-handled sword lying across the middle of the table.

Harry Potter is moving among the groups of survivors, his presence a quiet pillar of strength as he shakes hands and listens to their stories. The hero of the day.

Harry won. You and McLaggen made it back into the Great Hall just to see the final killing blow. You watched Voldemort hit the floor with your own two eyes. And now, you’re at a loose end. Elation feels distant, almost inappropriate, as the absence of Marietta and Eddie haunts the space around you, their unoccupied places at the table a gaping wound. The cost of victory.

“Explain it again,” says McLaggen, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Slower this time.”

“Cormac, keep still,” you chide, wrapping a bandage around his head.

“Harry sacrificed himself which meant he gave everyone in the castle sacrificial protection,” says Cho, with the appropriate air of speaking to someone with a head injury. “So none of the curses that Voldemort or the Death Eaters cast after that stuck properly. Which is why the Killing Curse didn’t kill you.”

“So how come Harry didn’t die?”

Cho pauses and purses her lips. “I don’t actually know.”

“And how do we know it wasn’t my sacrifice that was protecting everyone in the castle?” says McLaggen who then winces as you tie the bandage.

“Because, darling, you didn’t sacrifice yourself. You just tried to attack Voldemort and got knocked out trying,” you say soothingly.

“That makes it sound much less cool than it was,” grumbles McLaggen, half-joking, half-serious. “And I didn’t even get a sword,” he adds, glancing at Terry who is now miming Neville cutting the head off of a snake with the sword of Gryffindor.

A silence falls as you sit down beside McLaggen, resting your head on his shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his presence, your stomach jolts every time you think about Voldemort cutting him down so casually.

“I noticed none of you were at my deathbed when I came round, by the way,” he says, as if he can’t help himself from breaking the silence.

“Ve vere busy covering the two of you with a shield charm,” says Krum. “Then the Death Eaters turned their attention to us and ve had to retreat.”

“It’s a shame Potter didn’t sacrifice himself just a little bit earlier,” you say, sadly, thinking about Marietta and Carmichael.

“You’re always so harsh on him,” says Katie, looking over your shoulder. “Harry’s actually not bad once you get to know him.”

As you turn to respond, Potter approaches the Gryffindor table and greets the D.A. McLaggen stands to meet him.

“Good work out there, Potter,” he says bracingly. “You make putting your life on the line look easy, mate.”

“Er, thanks,” says Potter uncertainly. He looks even more tired than you feel. There are dark circles under his eyes and even though he’s not covered in as much soot, blood and debris as you and McLaggen, he looks pale and drawn. “You too, McLaggen. I saw what you did. It was really decent of you, standing up for Muggleborns like that when you could have kept quiet.”

“Well,” says McLaggen casually, taking your hand and bringing you to your feet. “There was a lot at stake.” You slip your arm around his waist and give him a little squeeze.

“And you - you were the one causing the Ministry so much grief back in October, right? You broke the Muggleborns out of Azkaban?”

You nod and gesture to the area of the table where Cho, Krum, Katie, Leanne, Davies, Wood, Angelina and Alicia are all engrossed in conversation. “We all did. Everyone who was half-decent on a broom.” You pull a tight-lipped smile thinking about what Katie said about you being harsh on Potter. “Except you, of course. Could have used your skills if you weren’t the Ministry’s most wanted.”

Potter smiles weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate that coming from you… Captain.”

McLaggen brings you tighter into a one-armed hug around your shoulders as Potter walks away.

“Do you think he called me ‘Captain’ because he can’t remember my name?” you ask as you both watch Potter continuing the rounds..

“Oh, one hundred per cent,” says McLaggen.

“Unbelievable. I’ve only played Quidditch against him every single year since he started school.”

“Maybe you need a better name.”

“Oh, really?” You roll your eyes and turn to face him, waiting for the punchline. “Go on, then. You got a nickname for me or something?”

McLaggen smirks and his self-satisfied smile meets his green eyes. “I meant a new surname.”

Oh.

“McLaggen, I -“

“You might have to start calling me Cormac all the time now, though. It’s gonna get pretty confusing otherwise.”

You take a deep breath and McLaggen falters slightly when you reach up and hold the sides of his face with both hands. His prickly stubble tickles your palms.

“McLaggen, I really think we need to find Madam Pomfrey.”

“What?” 

“Have you or have you not sustained a head injury?”

McLaggen looks at you intently, his green eyes focusing on yours. “I’m serious.”

“I am too,” you say. “You sure you haven’t been confunded again?”

“I’m pretty confident that’s not the case,” he says. 

“Ask me again once you’ve had your head checked out,” you murmur before pressing your lips against his. Even under the smoke and sweat, you can still smell the heady amber and jasmine scent of him that so reminds you of your first Potions lesson together.

“Alright, I will,” says Cormac McLaggen when you eventually break apart. “If it’d make you happy.”

Like moonstone being dropped into a cauldron, the idea of it - the sheer hope - glints and sparkles amidst the worst sorrow you've ever experienced.

"It would," you say.

It would make you deliriously happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai, @marmie-noir, @lolitstiana, @evabellasworld, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @xyzstar (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

#cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x reader #ravenclaw #ravenclaw fanfiction #smut #fanfic #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #freddie stroma #deathly hallows #harry potter and the deathly hallows #cormac mclaggen fic #cormac mclaggen fanfic #mclaggen x reader #mclaggen x female reader

[neverevan]

GUYS YOU'RE NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS, BUT WE FINALLY WON!!

#ryan evans #hsm #hsmtmts #high school musical #lucas grabeel #you have no idea how much this means to me #I mean I know Lucas talked about this #and he was young and still figuring things out #but I'm so glad to see him all grown up and happy #officially comfirmed gay character #gay ryan evans #my stuff

[mitskijamie]

Roy obviously knows that Jamie admires/respects/looks up to him but I like to think there's some part of him that wants Jamie to think he's like. Cool. On some level he's just a middle aged man who peaked in his 20s and craves validation from his cool gen Z coworker. I'm not like a regular coach I'm a Cool coach

#oc #(face straightens immediately) #i think roy was probably bullied at least some at the academy (because he was younger and also super talented) and sometimes with Jamie #who is so effortlessly cool and personable and just has this gravitational pull that will make any room he enters orbit around him #he feels like. idk. inadequate #even when roy was the coolest man in the country there was always this part of him that still felt like it was a joke #this inner autistic 13 year old who never fit in and could never figure out why #like his whole relationship with Keeley he can't believe such a beautiful woman would want to be with him because girls used to ask him out #as a joke or whatever. so he keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop because why would SHE like HIM. #and then when he finds out she's been talking about how clingy he is behind his back he's like I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. of course. #and it's the same thing with jamie. why would Jamie Tartt (Beautiful Young Successful Footballer Slash Sex Symbol). want to be with him. #he feels like a closeted outcast with a helpless crush on a beautiful popular classmate #is this insane. #roy kent #jamie tartt

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

Can Wille grow up and become a mental health advocate like I would love this.

#and it’s canon that simon would support 🥹 #like realistically he’ll probably still be somewhat of a public figure but he can reclaim that by talking about things HE wants #and he already revolutionized lbr #honestly he was probably always thinking about leaving ever since finding out his brother sucked #and honestly? that’s his right. #young royals #prince wilhelm #wilmon #serving major prince harry and meghan vibes lol

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

I was rewatching The Stone Forest and I really like to think that Hilda had to pass by the Bell Keeper’s outpost on her way out of the city limits. I like to think that idiot looked at what was happening, shrugged, and said ‘eh, she’s the scariest thing out there’

#“‘the scariest thing out there’?”the girl sends him a look that isn't quite a glare for once; it still conveys her opinion just as clearly #Edmund shrugs. Hilda is still within sight of his binoculars. he watches her run and can’t be sure whether she’s running *towards* or *from #*.He doesn’t think she knows either. #'I mean. it’s not like trolls can harm her at this time of the day. #Don’t tell me you believe in fairies kid.' #And there it is at last: the glare. Meiri looks up from her art project - her new therapist had reccomended it as a way to express herself #and since he'd been helping so much so far she'd decided to grudgingly give it a shot - #“*No*” she states pointedly; to anyone who knew her it was an affirmation. And Edmund knew her better than she cared for #'What I believe in is wolves and recluse spiders and ticks and nettle. And I believe that someone with the spine #to sabotage the Patrol wouldn't have the self control to not lick a pretty mushroom' #“Hey!” Edmund protested putting down his binoculars. “I sabotaged the Patrol! For *you* I might add!” #Meiri's smile turned mean; it was a regular expression for her yet it never conveyed any malice. Just the thrill of a game that never tired #her. “And would you?” she lifted one thick eyebrow; signaling to her dad that it was his move now #The dad in question was unfortunately thinking back to a time in his young teenage years when he figured he could eat anything animals bit #and gave himself a poisoning that had him taken to the ER. But she didn't need to know that. *ever* in fact. #“Obviously I would. Like I'd let a mushroom ruin my perfect sandwich diet” #Meiri groaned loudly. Some games were worth playing. But some wars she'd already accepted she'd never win #“Anyway” he turned back to staring at the outside of the wall as if it was of any interest to him (it wasn't) #“kid'll be fine is my point. And even if she isn't ya know what's the best think about this situation?” #They looked at each other with matching smirks. “none of our flipping business” he said at the same time as she echoed #“None of our fucking business” #He gasped immediatelly. “*Meiri!*” #The chastening was useless. She just shrugged innocently. #He'd really have to limit her library visits #the bell keeper hilda #meirdom #hilda the series #hilda netflix