#dumped them in my cauldron mixing them together

[mischeva]

Bounty Boyfriends yippie! They’re the first redesigns/reimaginings of characters I’m cooking up for a personal au that I will share…. eventually. Anyways they’re partners in every sense of the word cuz I said so tehe

#sleet and dingo #sleet the wolf #dingo the…..dingo #I somewhat have a name for the au #something along the lines of sonic rebuild #or sonic archie rebuild because it takes place in my personal interp of the archie comics continuity #basically I just took underground fleetway and archie #dumped them in my cauldron mixing them together #then called it a day #if anyone is interested in knowing more by all means feel free to ask questions! #sonic redesign #sonic underground #sleet x dingo #my art

[misc-obeyme]

Congrats on 500 followers 🎉🎉

for the event would it be okay to request Barbatos with the prompt shivers?

Thank you, anon!

I felt like this prompt could have gone in so many different ways, but in the end I settled on this scenario. Hopefully it turned out okay. I love Barbatos I could write so many fics of him lol.

Thank you for participating! <3

GN!MC x Barbatos with prompt Shiver

Warnings: None!

It was a slow afternoon at RAD and you were in potion making class with Mammon and Levi. The three of you were working together to make a heat resistant potion. According to the textbook, mixing the ingredients correctly would result in a potion that would keep the drinker cool in any kind of extreme heat conditions. You had been going through the ingredients on the table, trying to make sure you had everything you needed and in the right amounts. Then you began to list off the ingredients in order while Mammon and Levi put them into the cauldron.

"Okay and now have you to add the snow blossom," you said, reading from the text.

"Here it is," Levi said, handing it to Mammon, who dumped it into the cauldron.

"And then-" but you were interrupted when the cauldron exploded in a fog of frost that hit you directly in face.

You sucked in a breath as your entire body slowed down significantly and you felt as though you had been encased in a block of ice.

"MC!" Mammon yelled, going to your side, but not touching you. "Are ya okay? Levi, ya gave me too much!"

"Me?" Levi demanded, hovering around you in a panic. "You're the one who measured the snow blossom!"

"What appears to be the trouble?" Barbatos had appeared beside you. Mammon and Levi both started talking to him at once. When he finally was able to understand what had happened, he shook his head at them.

"We will need to act quickly," he said. "Human bodies cannot withstand this level of cold for long. I will transport them to the castle where I have a remedy already prepared."

Barbatos turned to you and took your hands. You were shivering, your teeth chattering. You looked down at your hands and saw that your skin was turning blue.

Barbatos opened a portal, pulling you through it with him. You found yourself in his room with its odd staircases and large windows. He left you for only a moment, returning with a blanket and a small vial.

"Please drink all of this, MC," he said, opening the vial and handing it to you. He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders as you attempted to drink the cure.

Your hands were shaking too hard for you to be able to get the vial to your lips without spilling it. Barbatos saw you were struggling. He put his hand over yours and held the vial steady for you. You managed to gulp it down, but you still felt like you were standing inside a freezer.

"B-Barbatos," you stammered out. "H-how long does this take t-to work?"

"You should start feeling the effects in moments," Barbatos said. He took a step closer to you. "However, if you feel like you could use a little extra warmth until then…"

You nodded, unable to speak with the way your teeth continued to chatter.

Barbatos smiled before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to him. He rubbed at your arms and back to help you warm up faster.

You felt the remedy kick in as your body began to thaw. Slowly you actually began to feel Barbatos's touch, a soft and warm embrace that you couldn't help melting into. You let go of the edges of the blanket, allowing it to fall to your feet, so there was just a little less fabric between you and Barbatos.

"It is most unfortunate that this happened to you, MC," Barbatos said softly in your ear. His hands had paused now on your back, slightly pressing you forward into him. The way his lips brushed your ear caused a shiver to run down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cold that was quickly fleeing your body. "But I must admit that I am pleased to have you in my arms."

You couldn't deny that you were happy to stay there while your body slowly regained its proper temperature. You may have pretended that you were still cold for some time after the cure had taken full effect. He was likely fully aware of it, but neither of you felt the need to point it out.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #misc 500 followers event #misc writes

[3xm-draconic]

Respite (werebat Cyris story)

Summary: The gang has a nice night of fun together...and Cyris learns some valuable info.

“FINALLY” Roger cried as they reached the town of Rivington “CIVILIZATION!”, “warm beds…” Wyll sighed, “fresh supplies!” Lae’zel grinned,“BETTER BOOZE!” Roger howled excitedly.

“Ooh there’s a little bookstore in town, I wonder if they might have a few new recipe books” Gale hummed, “I can see a tavern! We have enough gold, let's eat out tonight everybody” Allegra said as she skipped along the path.

“Eating out would be a nice change of pace from having to cook all the time” Cyris groaned, “I agree, eating out at a nice restaurant sounds like a rather nice date~” Astarion smiled.

At the inn they were staying at, a cheap place called: The 12 Rusty Swords Inn, they settled down for a feast.

Karlach and Wyll ordered a warm meaty stew to share together.

Halsin and Lae’zel both ordered a dish of roasted parsnips and other root vegetables covered in a tangy sauce.

Roger had a fish dish while Allegra ordered a pheasant pie.

Gale and Shadowheart enjoyed a platter of assorted meats and other delicacies they could dip into a small cauldron of cheese portabley heated by a magical rune.

Jaheira snacked on scones and had a nice pot of tea to go along with it.

Astarion ordered a steak…cooked VERY rare, nearly raw and Cyris had black pudding (blood sausage) with toast and eggs.

“Ahhh~ this is great! Finally a little reprieve from the craziness of travel and adventuring” Karlach smiled as she patted her stomach, “I couldn’t agree more, but we will have to depart soon, to stop the elder brain…” Gale forebodingly said.

“Well I ain’t doing that till I’ve tried the drink menu” Roger mumbled “now” he pulled out a pair of spectacles “lets see…”

“Iam not getting drunk, I am too old for such shenanigans” Jaheira mumbled.

“Zelly and I are gonna hit the hay early” Halsin said as he and Lae’zel whent upstairs to their room.

“I’am down to party!” Karlach grinned, “me too” Wyll added, “I think a little fun is in order, Shadow what do you think?” Gale turned to the raven-haired half elf, Shadowheart smiled “drinks sound delightful”. 

“Mmm~ the wine selection they have here isn’t too bad” Astarion hummed, “Drinks for most of us then…unless you’d like more tea Jaja?”, Jaheira snickered at her nickname “I would not mind another pot of camomile” she laughed.

The drink menu was…well it had quite a lot actually, it was hard to pick between the wines, hard liquors or mixed drinks.

So Roger came up with a system…

“Ok so, we’ll use my dice to decide what we’ll drink, what number on them is the menu number you order” he grumbled, “ooh~ like a game of chance!” Shadowheart hummed “exciting~”.

They all rolled the dice to see who picked first…

Wyll rolled the highest…

“31…Eye of the Beholder…hmmm sounds…interesting” he pondered.

The drink that arrived was a blue-tinted gin drink with dozens of little “eyeballs” floating in it, when Wyll bit into one of them it popped in his mouth an oozed with the flavor of mangos “Wow this…this is actually pretty good” he grinned.

“My turn!” Karlach excitedly snatched the dice from the table.

“52…Bubbling Black Brew?” she pondered.

The drink she ordered was a deep black fizzy wine served with a twist of lemon peel, when she took a taste she grinned “ooh~ it’s blackberry and lemon flavored” she happily sipped away.

Gale took the dice and rolled next…

“23…The…Hammer?” he pondered worriedly “that sounds interesting…”

The drink that came was served in a huge pewter chalice, it looked like they dumped every alcohol they had and the kitchen sink in there…but Gale took a sip and said it was good.

Shadowheart nervously looked at the dice “oh please be something good…” she pleaded.

“81, Ambrosia? Hmm never heard of that”

The drink smelled of coconut, ripe passion fruit, raspberries and peaches “OH there is some strong rum in here” she gasped.

“ALRIGHT MY TURN!” Roger excitedly grabbed his dice and rolled…

“61…candy drop…”

The drinks that came were a colorful drink covered in every candy that smelled potently of vanilla and a shot of  candies infused with liquor “oop well not what I was expecting…down the hatch!” Roger said as he dropped the candies into the vanilla drink and downed it in one go.

 Allegra was handed the dice next…

“14…Jellycube shots…”

6 small cubes of jelly on little platters, each a different color were served, Allegra grabbed the red one, squished it a little and then bit it “OOOH cherry flavor” she grinned. The green was apple, blue was berry, orange was citrus, yellow was banana, purple was grape. “vashe zdorov'ye!” Allegra cheered 

Astarion was handed the dice…

“100…Fairy Blood?” he laughed…

The drink that was served was thick and bright red, Astarion took a sip “haha it’s spicy tomato juice and vodka haha” he beamed.

Lastly it was Cyris’s turn…

 “4…strawberry fizz”

The drink that came was served in a tall fluted glass, it was a translucent pink that faded to a deep red and had chunks of strawberries in it. It fizzed and had a head of foam on top. Cyris smelled it, the scent of fresh berries mixed with champagne, lavender syrup and honey tantalized his senses. He sipped it… the taste was, “the berries…waiter where do you get your supply of strawberries?” he turned to their waiter, a tried-looking half-orc man.

“Some place called samgin…sanghen…woods something?” he grumbled, “sanguinwoods?” Cyris beamed, “yhea I think so” the waiter mumbled, “do..do you know anything about the village? If…if anything has happened to them?” Cyris asked him, a twinge of fear in his voice.

“I don’t know anything pal, haven’t heard anything in a while from em’, you could ask Max Tanpelr the town export manager” the waiter sighed and left.

Cyris looked worried…   

Their room was modest…but comfy.

Astarion missed the more lavish hotels and inns but this place was…charming, the little box of candy on the bedside tables was a nice touch.    

“Cyris~” Astarion called from the bedroom “come to bed darling~”, there was no reply, “C-Cyris?...” Astarion walked out of the bedroom and saw Cyris looking out their balcony.

“What troubles you my sweet?”, “...Whimbly said she’d kill my family…my village if I left…” Cyris had something in his hand…a faint glint of silver…

“Cyris?!” Astarion rushed over to his lover, Cyris held a knife in his hand…

“What…what if they're all dead? WHAT IF THEY DIED BECAUSE OF ME!?” he screamed as he held the blade to his arm, “CYRIS!” Astarion managed to grab hold of his wrist and wrench the blade free from his grasp “WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”he shrieked.

Cyris dropped to the floor…

He was shaking…

He was crying…

“It’s all…my..fault…” he cried “all…my..fault…”

Astarion held him, held his lover’s head to his chest “shhh, shhh darling, it’s ok…” he raised Cyris’s face to his “you don’t know if they are hurt and his scares you…but hurting yourself won't fix that, we will find out more about them and if they are ok, ok?” He hugged him tightly.

“And if they aren’t ok?” Cyris whimpered…

“If things aren’t ok…if Whimbly has…has hurt them then we will avenge them” he kissed Cyris’s brow “don’t hurt yourself, please, I can’t stand to see you hurt yourself darling” he nuzzled Cyris “seeing you hurt hurts me”.

Astarion led Cyris to the bed and helped tuck him in, he wrapped his arms around him and held him close.

“I promise Cyris, I promise things will be ok…” 

The next morning Cyris and Astarion whent to see Max the town importer/exporter about his ties to sanguinwood shier…

Cyris’s belly churned in painful knots…he was panicking, his heart felt like it would explode out his ribcaged… 

“It’s alright darling, just hold my hand” Astarion assured him.

“Max?” Astarion called out “Max Tanpelr?”, “yes?” a little gnome man poked his head out from behind some boxes “what do you need of me my good fellow?” he chirped enthusiastically.

Astarion didn’t particularly like dealing with gnomes…too…happy…for his liking “we would like to know about one of your suppliers, a place called sanguinwood?, a little halfling village nestled in the spine of the world just beyond coldwood?” Astarion asked him. Max pondered, his face scrunched up in thought “oh yes I do know them, nice little place, BIG RED TREES! Have you ever seen them?, golly they are a sight!”, Astarion shook his head “no, no I’ve never been there, but my sweet darling here is from there and he wants to know how things have been?”

 Max smiled “oh never better, just got a shipment of plump red strawberries, cartons and cartons of them!” he beamed “why Rayford farm is my number 1 supplier” he smiled.

Cyris was brought to tears “y…you buy from my family?”, “your family?...GARL GLITTERGOLD’S BEARD!, you're their lost little boy aren’t you?” Max gawked “goodness boy your mother has worried herself near sick looking for you!”, Cyris started crying, Astarion turned to max…a little annoyed “he’s…he’s been dealing with something of late and could not return home…” he said haughtily.

“Well he could at least write her a letter or go to Baldur’s Gate, she’s probably still looking for him there” Max huffed and left back to his work.

Cyris fell to his knees outside the trade center “she’s…she’s so worried…” he whimpered “he’s right I could have sent her a FUCKING LETTER!” he hissed at himself and clawed at his skin, Astarion grabbed his hand and held him, restraining him from hurting himself further. 

“I’am a bad son…” he sobbed, “no you are not” Astarion helped him up “incase you haven’t noticed Cy we haven't really had time to just leisurely write a letter to our families. You are not a bad son for not being able to communicate with her” he said, hugging him tightly.

“...then we gotta go to Baludr’s Gate, not just to kill that brain thing but…but because I need to see my mom, I need to let her know I’am alive that I’am…well I’am not safe but I’am alive at least” he laughed.

“We are a long ways away from there darling” Astarion sighed, Cyris rested his head on Astarion’s “then I have a letter to write…”

#baldur's gate 3 #dnd character #dnd #werebat #astarion x oc #fanfic #balders gate 3 #soft astarion #baldurs gate astarion #angst and hurt/comfort

[highqueenofelfhame]

potions master

lboh masterlist // masterlist // rowaelin // 856 words follow my writing blog @highqueenofelfhamewrites and turn on post notifications for more accurate updates! 

“Daddy,” a little voice whispered loudly from his doorway.

Rowan looked up from his laptop, noticing that a few of the students he was teaching over zoom also looked up at the screen at the sound of his five year old daughter’s voice. Rowan offered her a small smile and pushed back a little from his desk, eyes roving over the outfit she wore. Today, Kiran was a witch. She seemed to be wearing one of Aelin’s more tame, black nightgowns, a scarf, and a black and purple witches hat atop her silver hair. Her green eyes were blazing as she stepped into his office and held up a small plastic cauldron that was full of some sort of liquid. “Do you want to try my magic potion?” 

“I absolutely want to try your magic potion,” he told her, stomach already clenching at whatever atrocity he was about to consume.

Halloween had become Kiran’s favorite time of the year. It was October 12th, and she was already in high gear for the holiday. In fact, she’d been begging to decorate the house for Halloween as early as September second, and Rowan and his pregnant wife had let her have exactly what she wanted. Aidan, their current youngest child, didn’t really care. He was three and destroyed anything no matter what holiday it was or how much he liked the decor. 

For the last week, Kiran had been standing on a step stool in the kitchen while Aelin watched from her perch on a barstool across the island. She mixed all sorts of spices together with milk, or water, sometimes gatorade or sodas, all while mumbling gibberish or doing her best to speak words that she’d heard her parents use from the Old Language to activate the magic potions. Twice she had tried to make Aidan drink them, and both times he’d started screaming and crying so much that it made Kiran cry because he didn’t like her potions. Aelin was four months pregnant and just the smell of the potions made her stomach turn, which left Rowan as the prime potion tester. 

“What’s this potion for?” 

Kiran giggled as Rowan took the little cauldron from her, her little fingers covering her lips as she scrunched her shoulders up to her ears. She looked every bit the menace that she was, taking way too much after her mother in everything but the coloring of her hair and eyes. 

“It’s a love potion!” She said it so loudly and with a little hop for punctuation.

It made Rowan smile and he heard his students start laughing. He glanced over, momentarily wondering if he should shut off his camera, but decided against it. Peering into the little cauldron, it appeared to have a milky base and was full of so much cinnamon and cloves he could smell it. It couldn’t be that bad. He’d definitely had worse. 

Or so he thought, until he downed it all in one brave gulp. It was a mistake. An immediate mistake, because not only was the cinnamon and clove flavor so overpowering that it was making his throat burn, but the kid had dumped so much salt into her potion that it tasted like a very botched chai latte. Rowan fought the grimace, swallowed the mouthful of liquid, and sat back in his chair for a moment while he waited for the potion to have it’s desired effects. 

About sixty seconds after sitting and watching his daughter eagerly bounce on her toes with anticipation, he sprang from his chair and shouted, “Aelin? Fireheart? Aelin, my love?” and with a wink at Kiran he bolted down the hall toward where he knew his wife was relaxing on the couch.

She had barely moved from the last time he’d seen her, though now her feet were propped up while she watched the Great Adarlanian Bake Off. Aelin’s lips immediately turned up into a smile as he knelt beside her and began to press kisses all over her stomach, her hands, up her arms to her face. Kiran was cackling behind Rowan as she clapped her hands and hopped up and down with glee. 

Aelin began laughing into his kisses while he professed his undying love for her over and over, allowing him to kiss her as many times as he saw fit to please their daughter. She draped her arms around his neck, holding him closer for a longer kiss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“My kid asked me to taste a love potion so godsdammit, I’m going to taste a love potion,” he replied, pressing another few kisses to her lips. 

“How was it?”

“Would you like to lick the cauldron to find out?” Aelin wrinkled her nose and shook her head, and Rowan knew she was fighting to make a joke about the innuendo that was laced in his words somewhere. He pressed another kiss to her mouth and stood, dropping a kiss to Kiran’s head while he made his way back to his office. 

He was halfway down the hall when he heard his wife say conspiratorially, “I think it worked.”

@starseternalnighttriumphant @highladyofthesith @scarznstars @court-of-glass @tintinnabulary @musicmaam @awkward-avocado-s @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @clockworkgraystairs @shyvioletcat @westofmoon @the-regal-warrior @ame233 @empire-of-wildfire @thewayshedreamed @singme-t0sleep @royalsqueeze @stupendousslimepeanutcroissant @katelynchang @damebadwolf @wingsway @i-love-all-books @musicdreamer003 @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @mu-si-ca-l @3am-reading @stardustsroses @booknerdproblems @prettygalsread @angelofmusic81 @sleeping-and-books @cool-ish-nerd @noodlecatposts @meltalgel-ig @fancysludgeshoelamp @greenbriaars @wifeofchrishemsworth @ccrtana @cityofsuns @rowaelin-fireheart @sunsummoner @spyofthenightcourt @joyceortiz13 @brokenbutnotquiting @emilyrose111294 @feyresarrow @tangledraysofsunshine @silvermindwarrior @superspiritfestival @maastrash @ashleyfroberg @cursebreaker29 @moondancer-204 @jesstargaryenqueen @januarystears @vasudharaghavan @city-of-fae @firedoorcinemaclub @rowaelin-cressworth @annejulianneh111 @blackjacks-donuts @crackedship @runawayrowan @that-other-pineapple​ @mynewdreamwasyou @highlordswhores @abookishfreak  @tottenhamboys20   @empress-ofbloodshed @morganofthewildfire @starborn-faerie-queen @b00kworm @musicdreamer003 @bamchickawowow @ireallyshouldsleeprn @booksofthemoon @ashlynn231 @mariamuses @sanakapoor @harrymoncheri @ladywitchling @smalltddygothgf @booksbqueen

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #aelin whitethorn galathynius #tog #sjm #throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #tog gen 2 #tower of dawn #kingdom of ash #com #hof #qos #eos #tod #koa #rowan x aelin #writing #fanfiction #my writing #halloween prompt #writing prompt #halloween #spooky szn #spooky #witch

[thistlecatfics]

Avoiding WIPs is for cowards and knaves: a wolfstar rec list

reading and subscribing to and commenting on WIPs is bringing me so much joy this global pandemic/fascist coup attempt, and I invite you to join me

Death, and Other Origin Stories, @houseofhebrideanblacks & @thestralsofspinnersend

150k, WIP. Follows Remus and Sirius through their time at Hogwarts. 

Seriously so good!! Shoebox Project, ATYD whomst? I swear this will be the next major growing up together wolfstar fic. Brilliant details. Best examination of pureblood culture I’ve ever read. My favorite Sirius. Incredible exploration of childhood trauma, class, privilege, friendship. 

This (along with their excellent Drarry post-war epic, Blood Magic) inspired me to write my first ever fic (catch me putting my own childhood trauma and family issues onto Andromeda Black on ao3 later this year), and I am very grateful. 

No Bright Line, @swottypotter (COMPLETED)

82k, wolfstar, Jily

“In which Sirius is a famous actor who has stopped believing in authenticity, Remus is a historian with a complex relationship to memory, and Lily is the brilliant filmmaker who brings them together. James and Harry are there too, although they mostly just want to enjoy the beach.”

This is the fic that convinced me I do actually like AUs. The characterization of everyone is impeccable, and, if you’re still reeling from Song of Achilles like I am, you’ll adore this. It’s a joyful fic. The James & Lily & Sirius dynamic here is just the best I’ve ever read. 

A Crow Rides a Pale Horse, tb_ll57 

700k words, WIP. No, that’s not a typo

It’s a rewrite of the Harry Potter series if Remus sort of raised Harry though that criminally undersells it. I would describe this fic as if someone took all of canon, tossed it into a cauldron, added queer relationships, dumped a ton of actual power analysis in, and sprinkled the most charming, creative details, mixed it all up, and gave it to us to feast on. 

Wolfstar is a (relatively) small part of the overall (Harry-centric) fic, but it’s there and it’s beautiful. Seriously, this fic is just EXTRAORDINARY. 

A Brother Is Born for Adversity, tb_ll57 

200k, WIP. We’ve got Lupin/Greyback, Lupin/Snape, Lupin/Sirius, Lupin/Bill. Everything you might want in a Lupin-centric dark fic. 

“A series following Remus Lupin over four phases and relationships: spying on Fenrir Greyback and the werewolves in the first war against Voldemort's forces; a chance reunion with Severus Snape in Paris five years after the war, where all is not as it seems; learning how to like each other again with Sirius after teaching Harry's third year at Hogwarts; and back again to werewolves, this time with Bill Weasley hostage to Voldemort's agenda. Features the origins of the Order of the Phoenix, hitting rock bottom repeatedly and still trudging into work the next day, ambiguous mentoring from Albus Dumbledore, and learning to live with the monster inside.”

Seriously one of the most extraordinary pieces of fandom work I’ve ever encountered. It’s quite dark but realistic examination of what it would be like for Lupin to have been Dumbledore’s werewolf child soldier. It’s no longer updating, but the author says that they have not abandoned it, and you should read it anyway if you like first wizarding war fics and dark worldbuilding and angst. 

#wolfstar #harry potter fic rec #wolfstar fic rec #wolfstar fanfiction

[meow-bebe]

Pairing: Oh Seunghee x reader Genre: fantasy au, angst Word count: 1.1 k Warnings: necromancy, technically a dead body Tonight’s soundtrack: Absinthe - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME A/n: may i present the results of another two am writing spree

Deep in the woods, a little cabin sits nestled in a small clearing. To an outsider, it looks quaint and welcoming, candles glow in the windows and there are herbs tied in bunches and hanging from the roof of the porch. But inside it is much darker….

Emotions boil in the air along with the large pot at one end of the single room that makes up the entire house. It simmers over a low fire, keeping the shimmering purple contents boiling slowly. The tang of the ingredients hangs in the air, burning your nostrils slightly with each breath.

You barely notice though, too focused on your work to pay attention to something as arbitrary as discomfort. The contents of the pot are the product of weeks of work, messing up and trying again, adding too much or too little, spilling it across the floors just as you’re about to reach a breakthrough. You’ve worked long hours before, and in fact you’ve dedicated so much time to this project that you’ve barely slept enough in the past week to tell one plant from another. 

Slightly fogged pair of goggles protect your eyes as you carefully maneuver the spindley homemade clamps to slowly pour the acidic contents of the glass vial into the pot. Bright smoke pours into the air as the potion reacts, neutralizing the acid to the human touch and reacting with the steeping ingredients. The acrid scent lingers in the air with the previous odors, mixing into something almost intoxicating in its bittersweetness.You choke as you impatiently dump the rest of the vial into the pot and it sends a particularly volatile puff of smoke at you. 

The vial is set gently on the overcrowded table next to your cauldron, and you carelessly toss the clamps underneath it to be angrily retrieved later. But you couldn’t care right now. You’re so close to finally figuring it out.

You drop the spell protecting your hands and the wavering encasing of magic fades away. Time ticks onward as the wax of your candles dribbles ever downward, the moon following in your path. The pot is no longer belching green smoke, and you carefully remove the journal stuffed full of notes and barely legible records of your past attempts from underneath a few other glass bottles stacked haphazardly on top of it, consulting the notes and recipes you’re following this time around. 

Recognizing the compound you needed for your next step, you toss down the book and launch yourself off the stool, leaving a small piece of paper that had fallen out drifting to the ground. The shelves are crowded and messy but you’ve alway kept things well labeled. It came in handy as many of the odd nectars and ground roots and other miscellaneous ingredients for the tinctures you constantly produced looked quite similar in the dark. 

You quickly find what you’re looking for after hopping up onto the clear spot workbench also full of all sorts of strange magical components to rummage around on the very top shelf. The small box presents itself right away, and you tuck it in one of the many large pockets of your apron, snatching a small bottle of a thick gold liquid before turning and swinging back down to the ground. 

You pop the cork of the small bottle and tilt the contents into your mouth, feeling the rush of warmth and energy surge through your veins as you walk back to your fire, a fresh urgency in your steps. The bottle, now drained of all its contents, disappears into a different pocket and is soon forgotten as you throw yourself back into your work. 

You retrieve the little box with one hand as you draw the other through the air above the pot, the bubbling mixture inside following the movement. Popping the latch open, you sprinkle a pinch into the palm of your hand before setting the ornately carved box to the side. 

Taking a small dagger from the table, you place the knife between your teeth and press the index finger of the opposite hand to the tip of the blade, drawing blood. Squeezing your finger slightly, small drops of blood land atop the small pile of powder in your palm. The fire crackles warmly as you soak the powder, using another finger to mix them together. 

Another drop or two of blood to smooth it out, and you plunge your hands into the pot to add the paste to the swirling contents. The purple potion is cool, and the material is perhaps the strangest thing you’ve ever felt. It’s certainly not a liquid, feeling more like a heavy gas if it could even be categorized, perhaps like what sticking one’s hands into a grey cloud full to the bursting would feel like. 

Once the paste has been washed away you draw your hands out of the pot, finally setting the knife to the side. You turn and cast a loving look at the massive slab of crystal on the table to your left. Encased inside is Seunghee’s body, looking exactly the same as she had the day you found her in the woods, a fatal arrow wound in her chest. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea, but you were in too deep from the moment you panicked and rushed to carry her home, spotting the large piece of quartz you had bought off one of the more sketchy of the sellers you knew, and the ideas starting formulating immediately. Over the course of seven tireless hours you had grown the originally dinner plate sized gem to be large enough to crack down the middle and seal Seunghee’s body inside. 

“Soon, my love,” you whisper, trailing a hand over the side of the crystal. A smeared handprint of translucent purple liquid is left in the wake of your touch, shimmering in an unsettling way on the stone. It begins to sizzle and eat away at the crystal, and you quickly wipe it away with your apron before the damage can reach anywhere near the depth of Seunghee’s skin. You wave your hand over the rough patch and mutter a spell, and it slowly begins to repair itself. 

You wipe your hands on the apron as well, and a strange hazy smoke drifts from the fabric. But you pay it no mind, perching yourself back on the stool with another glance at Seunghee, emotion sizzling in your gaze. You still had work to do.

@kpopscape​ @kggnet​

#kpopscape #kggnet #clc x reader #clc imagines #clc fanfic #clc fics #clc scenarios #seunghee x reader #seunghee imagines #seunghee fics #seunghee scenarios

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 1: The Accident...

It is recommended, though by no means a must if you know the Marauders history enough to be reading fanfiction about them, you read We Were first. The first five chapters are slightly AU to the continuity of this fic, but the grand point and especially the final chapter are key to the beginning of this fic as you get plopped in the middle. Link is below or you can find it in my profile.

Before you get started; Warnings include- Explicit Wolfstar (Remus/Sirius), and on the whole a rather flimsy premise that I honestly created to indulge myself because I didn't let myself do it the first time. A lot less logically based and a lot more I just felt like having fun with this one. It's not to say I'll let this degenerate into tropes and one note things, but there's going to be even less reading of the books involved, as in literally they're just interacting around the story with only passing mentions of what's going on in there. If you want a much more grounded basis and more 'realistic' approach to a reading series, I put my heart and every cell of my mind into The Life that Never Lived, PDF's upon request. I'm pretty sure this one grew from my funny bone that I broke when I was seven.

HPHPHPHP

The dungeons where Potions were held had always felt like the most oblique part of the castle, and Sirius had been in every corner of it to claim as such. It wasn't entirely the fault of the dark stone walls, sweltering hot air from the many flames, or the often unexplained fumes. The feeling seemed to seep up straight from the cold stone floor no matter how many fires were lit, as if the wooden stool itself were trying to pin them all with the unknown.

Sirius had never been more grateful for a Potions class to be over, and that was really saying something. It was the last one of this bleeding school semester, and if he had to spend one more day glaring at a cauldron and somehow inexplicably turning it the wrong color one more time without the usual helpful hint from Peter telling him why, he was going to chuck every last drop of it in Slughorn's face for constantly telling him he'd figure it out!

He'd never packed up his bag faster, even managing to multitask by muttering under his breath how stupid all this was. He was the first person to make it to the door, but collided with someone even less pleasant to see than the three people he'd most been avoiding lately. He cursed loudly, earning several dirty looks as the rest of the class was now passing. His bag had ripped upon stumbling into his little brother and smashed to the ground, sending his things flying and managing to spray him with ink.

Regulus hesitated in the doorway, muttering a quick, "sorry Sirius."

"Oh, it knows my name," Sirius growled under his breath, though his tone was far less hateful than usual, considering this was the first time he'd had a proper conversation with someone in nearly three weeks. His little brother was hardly his first choice, given his proud Slytherin status and being two years younger didn't remotely have them coming near each other most days, a fact he was usually grateful for.

"Yes, he does," Regulus' scowl looked remarkably close to Sirius', the two put side by side at once was rather eerie. His tone though was even more friendly than Sirius', which wasn't all that hard as he tried to explain his abrupt appearance. "I ah, I came sprinting down here to see if I could catch Slughorn, ask him if I could pick up an extra credit assignment."

Sirius straightened with his stuff still half strewn around, but again that pull for someone to talk to seemed greater, especially as he glanced back and saw who hadn't left yet, so he responded no matter how unenthusiastically. "Yeah, what you struggling with?" While tapping his bag and mending the tear, slowly bending down to pick each item back up while he absently listened. Regulus even began to help him while he explained in short, precise sentences like he was practicing for the teacher.

Frank Longbottom and Alice Smith slipped in past the two Black brothers at the doorway and found the room mostly empty, and they shared an exasperated look as they wondered if they'd just walked in on Slughorn telling this group off again. They were early for their next class after all, but the teacher was nowhere in sight. They did get a full view of what started quite an interesting journey.

James was hanging by Evans' cauldron, trying to chat happily with her, but mostly waiting for Sirius to leave first. He could hardly stand to look at him these days, let alone pass by him in such a restricted place, yet the wanker had struck up a conversation with Regulus of all people, someone he'd hardly spoken a whole sentence to in the past five years, but no, he'd chosen now! Probably just waiting for them to walk past first, like this was all still some game to him.

Remus and Peter were hovering on edge right beside him, Remus fidgeting with what was left of his cauldron on the desk while Evans was trying to pack hers up and being hampered by James staying in her way. "Won't you at least consider coming? It's our last game of the season! What if you're my good luck charm, you've always been the best at those! Do you really want to be the reason Gryffindor loses?"

"They've gotten on just fine without me there the past years," Lily snipped. She never knew why she even bothered responding to him half the time, but considering it no more discouraged him than ignoring him, at least this way she got to vent.

She tried to sidestep past him, James once again stepped into her way, and the two collided with each other, their hands accidentally slipping into her cauldron Remus had just mistakenly dumped his own potion into.

Whatever the concoction the two mixed together created upended the entire world.

At first though, nothing really changed. There was no marvelous flash of light, no force of nature that showed everyone outside of this room had vanished. Lily simply made a gagging noise as she pulled her hand out of the vat and glared furiously at the oddly pale teen, pulling her wand out at once with her less dominant hand she hadn't tried to catch herself with and banish the gunk off while hissing at him, "You are so lucky I turned that in already Lupin! What the hell did you even create? I've never seen this before," she finished with a critical eye at the now steaming mess, that vanished before their eyes.

"Wow Remus, you should do that more often, really makes cleanup easier," Peter chuckled while Remus looked rather concerned.

"I, err, I'll admit, I really screwed up my potion worse than usual. I think I added three things I actually wasn't supposed to, so you've got me."

James just flung the mess from his hand, which also vanished before it had even landed on anyone, and glanced back hopefully like he'd thought his source for this mess had left already.

He hadn't.

His face was turned in their general direction, like he'd been trying to subtly glance over and hope for the same, but now he was looking right through James. That wasn't uncommon lately, but the stunned look of confusion on his face was enough James grudgingly turned his head the other way to see what.

Back on the lip of the cauldron, was a slim red book with a golden one on the spine. It was just sitting there, like Evans had left it on purpose, but it certainly hadn't been a second ago.

Lily took his distraction as a chance to bolt from the room, Regulus gave his brother an awkward wave goodbye and went back out towards Slughorn's office since he'd clearly missed him, and Alice and Frank tried to casually step back out as well. Even being a year above those four had not left them oblivious to their fight. The whole school was aware of the fact the four Marauders had not been seen together in quite some time, and neither of them particularly felt like putting their nose into why.

James was still frowning in confusion at the odd title stamped across, which simply read Harry Potter Year One.

"Err, did either of you-" James looked at the two as if in some kind of explanation, but both gave a mystified shake to their head. James couldn't help it, he still looked automatically towards his best mate, and then he caught himself and realized they were the only four left. Sirius' eyes had still been locked in on the odd object, really ridiculous his mind supplied as James had no relatives named Harry, and wondered if this was some odd attempt at a prank?

Sirius didn't stick around to care, completely forgetting the rest of his things, he turned on his heel and finally exited as well, when they all heard a shriek.

As one, the four bolted up to the Entrance Hall, Alice and Frank right behind them as they hadn't wandered off far, to see Lily standing in the middle and stamping her foot in frustration upon seeing them. "Damn, I thought someone would have reacted to that."

"Err, Evans," James began in concern as if for her health.

"Where is everybody!" She demanded while gesturing to the Great Hall where there should have been a packed lunch crowd. Nobody was in there, and now that they were listening for it, the din of a castle filled with people, was deadly silent all around them.

As if given a signal, everyone began shouting all at once, sure the ruckus would cause someone to appear, but the only other arrival was Regulus coming up from the stairs as well, looking at all of them with great concern. "Geez, you lots shouting usually has a much greater audience."

"Thank you Regulus for that helpful insert!" Sirius snapped.

Regulus ignored that and seemed to look around himself and really acknowledge his own words, before realization slammed into him as well as he whispered, "What's going on?"

"We'd all like to know that," Frank put his hands up in frustration, this was what he and his girlfriend got for getting to class early.

"This is ridiculous," Lily seethed, stomping up towards the stairs. She was intending to barge into every crevice of this place and find someone other than these idiots to deal with. She didn't know what the school was playing at, but it wasn't funny.

Alice and Frank followed her as they still considered her the least craziest compared to the others.

Sirius still couldn't bring himself to look at the other three and bolted out onto the grounds for an exit, and Regulus couldn't think of anything better to do but follow him.

James waited until they were back alone before nodding to Peter, who pulled the Marauder's Map back out and cast the charm to activate it. On cue, the magical ink appeared, spreading through the tattered paper, but only revealing eight names instead of the several hundreds it normally housed.

"What the bloody hell?" Remus demanded, snatching it away as if sure somehow Peter had cast it wrong. He deactivated it and retried five times before looking up in exasperation, to see James flipping through the book. "Of all times, you chose now to pursue one of those!" Remus demanded.

"Remus, what the bloody hell was in that potion," James whispered to him.

Remus looked at him askance. "I told you I don't know, I was, well I-" it was hard to admit how thoroughly distracted he'd been, even more than usual in his potions classes. His past two attempts had been utter messes as well. Somehow without Sirius by his side and being a constant distraction, he'd found a way to blow up his more recent attempts, so he'd been rather proud this one had only changed the wrong color seven times. "What's your point?"

"This," James waved it around, his face still looking somehow detached as if he had no clue what he was really saying, "it's-" he broke off, and Remus huffed in exasperation as he snatched it away.

"Yes James, it has words, glory look at that they're even strung together with sentences! What's the big-" he stopped abruptly at what he saw quite clearly had Prongs so thrown off. Remus could feel it now, this book was giving off as if the most powerful magic to exist, certainly that he'd ever been around.

"This isn't, there's no way-" he tried to protest what his eyes weren't changing.

"What?" Peter demanded in exasperation of the two.

"That's from the future." James stated coolly.

Peter laughed, realized neither was pulling his leg, and then yanked the book to him as well.

"It, it's a joke or-" he tried to say, but it was the exact same to his eyes as well.

"Remus, what the bloody hell did you mix with Lily's Profligare potion?" James asked again like he'd have another answer!

"I, I told you, I have no clue!" Remus insisted, his heart restricting painfully in his chest.

"Why aren't their words in the rest of this book?" Peter asked curiously. There were an easy three hundred pages to this thing, but only the first sentence was visible. The rest was blank.

"Put that down," Remus suddenly yelped, slapping it away from him. It thudded to the ground and even skidded a few feet while Wormtail looked offended.

"Merlin Remus, James was holding it for a whole five minutes and he didn't explode."

"Let's prioritize for a minute," James insisted. "Ignore that thing and figure out where everyone is, maybe show that to Dumbledore-"

"That might be a problem, as there's no one else here!" Remus snarled.

"Well I'll say one thing, Evans sure can make one good banishing potion," Regulus commented as he stepped back into the Entrance Hall minus Sirius.

The question burst out of James before he could consider doing otherwise, "where's your better half?"

Regulus scowled hatefully, hesitated, but still answered, "still wandering the damn grounds, think he said something about checking the bottom of the lake. I don't know what you lot are fighting about, but for him to be saying that even as a joke really is something."

James flinched with the first spot of guilt he'd felt, and Remus looked away as if he hadn't even heard. Peter took the opportunity to shove the map back out of sight before he twisted his fingers together and just deciding to ignore that as well and said, "We might as well go find the other three and show at least them. Something Dark is going on around here, perhaps we shouldn't go wandering off."

"Oh that's nice, just leave him out on the grounds by himself then if that's what you're thinking," Regulus muttered as his two friends seemed to agree and took off up the stairs, Peter having to jog to keep up.

They found them already up to the second floor, and with every empty room they'd opened, they'd become increasingly more panicked. This just wasn't natural! Even during the holidays you were likely to run across someone by now! A ghost even! What was left of the Marauders caught up to them, and Lily's near hysterics weren't helped with their answer to this.

"Just come back downstairs!" James was trying to put his hands up in a comforting, surrendering gesture to the vivid redhead who hadn't stopped shouting for a solid minute, so her face was as bright as her hair. "We found something you lot really should see!"

It took a bit more persuading and Frank and Alice agreeing first before Lily conceded searching every room wasn't helping.

They went back downstairs and saw Sirius had rejoined his little brother, and the two were frozen in place over what had already been discovered with the book still open on the ground for all to see.

"You wanted to show me a book!" Lily demanded as she looked murderously at Potter. "How is that helping to find out what happened!"

"Just look at it," Potter insisted.

Without touching it, she went to where it had fallen on the floor, and then she too along with Frank and Alice saw.

Scrawled across the top was the title The Boy Who Lived, which meant nothing to anyone so their eyes skipped down to below that, which was just under the date 1981. Six years from now.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #James Potter #Lily Potter #Regulus Black #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Remus Lupin #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #all in the family

[bush-viper-cutie]

At Least – DAY 7

Pairing: none. Just fifth year snape

Word Count: 995

Rating: E for Everyone

Plot: Severus has a nightmare.

Warnings: none

A/N: Day seven! nightmare from snapetober! HAPPY SPOOKTOBER! >:D (Sorry if the ‘keep reading’ cut is not working! Not sure why or if its only me seeing that but I can’t get it to work so... :c idk)

Posted: 10/7/20

Masterlist

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Spinners End was quiet, save for the rush of the river in the distance and the whispers of the winds through the bare tree branches of the few left standing. The doors of every house began to rattle on their hinges and windows creaked and thumped shut, filling the night with violent hisses of noise.

Severus stood on the empty street and stared at his shoes, at the way the toes split from the sole and the way the laces frayed at the ends. They seemed familiar, like it was just yesterday he was studying the way the worn leather if the tongue cracked at its natural fold.

He closed his hands and opened them. Something was missing from them. In the stinging cold making his pale hands paler by the second, he knew his skin was missing the delicate red lines from accidental cuts. Where were they?

There was a howl and the moon above him seemed to grow bigger, staring at him. It was warning him of something. “The night is not to be trusted,” he whispered. “It doesn’t hide things, it traps them.” His thin lips felt numb but his voice was his own.

He started walking down the desolate street, towards his home – no, his house. He walked down to his house and saw his father out on the wild grassy lawn of theirs, drinking a beer. He squinted his eyes as he approached, and wrinkled his noise at him. The disappointment was evident in his eyes.

“Don’t you ever ‘ave anything t’do out there?” he spat, his words too heavy for his tongue, tumbling out like the dribbling beer off his lips.

Severus walked passed him into the house where his mother stood motioning for the kitchen. He entered, finding a large buffet of food, all home cooked and glistening with butter and grease. His stomach growled and he had to wipe his drooling mouth with his sleeve.

“What’s this?”

“I ‘eard you got invited to join the Slug Club, and as a fifth year. I made this for you. ‘ave as much as you’d like.” His mother didn’t smile, and her mouth didn’t move. Her voice had sounded distant… but it had been hers.

“Th-thank you… This means a lot to me… I-I didn’t think you cared. I didn’t know you even kept up with my Hogwarts schooling…” He sat and watched his tears mix into the sweat of the turkey leg, glistening brightly as he buttered it and mashed steamed peas on top with his fork. He hadn’t eaten in so long.

It tasted sweet, like the butterbeer did during the winter holidays when extra syrup was added into the steaming liquid. He sipped the scotch and sighed against the burn in the back of his throat.

The glowing yellow eyes to his left widened and blinked. He turned, watching the green creature’s grin cut its wrinkled face in half. It’s yellow, razor-sharp teeth parted wide and an ear splitting cackle erupted out. He couldn’t turn away, wanting to hear the cackle in its entirety. How could a creature hold so much air in its small body? Its pointed face closed and just as Severus took another bite of the juicy turkey meat, it raised a large hollowed stick to its lips and shot out a dart, hitting his neck directly.

He fell onto the floor, his muscles slow like cold honey. His mother was frowning, until he managed to roll over and saw she was smiling at him from above, her long thin hair hugging her face like it did him sometimes.

“H-elp,” he croaked and reached out for her.

Her lips parted and her smile deepened as she extended her hand out to receive a large bag of coins from the erkling.

His father stepped into the room and leaned on the doorframe, crossing his ankles. “Didn’t think you’d be worth much. Least you surprised me ‘bout that.”

“Tobias,” his mother held out the gold coins.

Severus gripped his neck and looked down at himself. His school uniform had suddenly turned baggy around his now small, even younger, body. The erkling took him by the shoulders – he hung limp and flimsy from its taloned hands – and opened its mouth wide to the size of a large cauldron’s rim. There was bubbling yellow liquid inside, popping up at him.

“Why,” Severus cried.

“We never wanted you,” his father said simply.

And in he went, into the massive moist mouth of the green creature.

~ * ~ * ~

“AH!” Severus bolted up from his pillow, sweat dripping down his forehead, sticking his ink-black hair to his face. He touched a spot on his neck, feeling it damp but smooth, no abrasion. He looked around at the lumps in the dark, other sleeping bodies tucked under the safe covers of their beds.

His dorm mates snored quietly, unbothered by the sudden yelp that had come from his mouth. Severus’ labored breaths were started to calm as he looked around and traced the familiarity of his Slytherin room. It was just a nightmare. His brows came together as a shiver traveled up his body and reached his shoulders.

He pulled the covers off and whimpered. The sheets were soaked under him. He slowly crawled off the bed and ripped the sheets off, dragging them into the shared bathrooms. He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror and his nails dug into his palms at the anger and shame he felt. Wetting the bed as a fifth year… He shuddered, wishing it hadn’t happened.

He started a bath and peeled off his clothes, dumping the sheets and all into the large hamper. He walked over to the half-filled bath and quickly got in the warm water. He held his arms and sat with his legs pressed into himself, letting the water run over his head, soaking his hair and hiding his tears.

“At least I was worth something,” he whispered.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Masterlist

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Day 7 Prompt: nightmare + erkling (green elf-like creature with a pointed face, likes to eat children and has an alluring high-pitched cackle; shoots darts at unsuspecting victims.)

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General Taglist:

@severuslovebot @bionic-otp

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#snapetober #october 2020 #pro snape #young severus snape #young severus #young snape #severus snape #severus #snape #snape fanfic #snape fanfiction #snape fan fiction #snape one shot

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 61 - Amortentia

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,101

Summary: Potions class brings some unexpected surprises and a dark revelation.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Yato, Hiyori and Yukine made it just in time for welcoming feast, their robes thrown on haphazardly and out of breath by the time they had stumbled into the Great Hall and seated themselves for Professor Tenjin’s speech.

The usual mindless pleasantries drilled through Yato’s head, and he couldn’t help but feel his stomach rumble. The Sorting Ceremony saw a new gaggle of students following behind Professor Tsuyu like ducklings to their mother, each being sorted into Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin.

The announcements moved to generic warnings and information about the new school year; Professor Takemikazuchi was to be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and whilst no one particularly liked him, at least he wasn’t a Deatheater.

Professor Tenjin’s final statement was to wish seventh years good luck on their upcoming exams and to warn them to study hard for the career they wanted.

Yato’s scoff was covered by the sudden rise in noise as the tables became laden with platters of food. Having failed some of his O.W.L.s exams, Yato would only be taking five N.E.W.T.s this year: Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures. He had managed to pass the first year of N.E.W.T.s, he just prayed he would do better this year.

Hiyori and Yukine, on the other hand, had passed all of their O.W.L.s with flying colours and would continue to do their N.E.W.T.s. At the thought, Yato’s eyes wandered across the room to Hiyori, finding her laughing beside Bishamon at Gryffindor’s table.

It was another bitter reminder that, for Yato, it was his last year at Hogwarts.

~

On Monday morning, Yato decided that he would spend his first period in Potions with Hiyori and Yukine. He didn’t particularly fancy spending class with his own year know that Nora was still around and discovered that her plan to send him back to London had failed, and he didn’t want to give her another opportunity to knock him out with a cauldron.

Besides, Madame Kofuku wouldn’t protest to an extra addition in her class, and she could keep an eye on him.

Yato made his way to the dungeons along with Hiyori and Yukine, their pewter cauldrons in hand and swinging. The walls were slick with warm water from the Great Lake overhead that had reached a tepid temperature over the summer, dripping into small puddles at their feet. He could hear the murmurings of students ahead, signaling that they were close to the classroom as the bell rang out distantly behind them.

They could hear Madame Kofuku instructing students to take jars of ingredients from the shelves followed by the clinking and shuffling of glass on wood.

“… love potion, Amortentia, which causes…”

Yato turned into the classroom, closely followed by Yukine and Hiyori and his eyes raked over the mess of potion spills that had stained the desks and floor. He heard Madame Kofuku’s greeting before he saw the whirl of pink come towards them, eyes bright and smiling. If there was any hint of concern she had for Yato following the prior year’s events, she masked it perfectly in front of onlooking students.

“Good morning,” Yukine and Hiyori returned the greeting, but it went largely unheard as Madame Kofuku turned to Yato with a slight crinkle in her brow. “What are you doing here? You’ll be late for your class.”

It took Yato a second to realise what she meant – a seventh-year in a sixth-year potions class with a few curious faces looking at him. He only realised that he was much taller than everyone in the class – as well as Madame Kofuku – and felt inexplicitly out of place.

“I was hoping I could join you in my free periods,” Yato said, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t do so well on my Potions N.E.W.T.s last year. I could do with practice.”

“And a certain witch tried to kidnap him,” Yukine said under his breath. He may have substituted ‘witch’ for a similar word, but either way, the expression was clear enough for Madame Kofuku to understand. She was aware of the issues Nora brought with her.

“Of course!” Madame Kofuku exclaimed. “We’re covering Amortentia today, do you remember how to make it?”

The name rang a vague bell in Yato’s head. A love potion, the one they heard her mention as they walked into class. “I think so.”

“Good, you can pair up with Hiyori and Yukine and show them how to make it.” Madame Kofuku nodded towards the edge of the classroom which was bedecked with sagging shelves that held every herb known to man.

Yato dumped his cauldron on a large table closest to the shelves alongside Hiyori’s and Yukine’s before turning his attention to the tower of ingredients. He heard the pages of a book flick open behind him, no doubt Yukine making sure Yato chose the right ingredients that wouldn’t blow up the classroom.

“Ashwinder eggs… rose petals… peppermint….” Yato murmured the ingredients as his eyes scanned the jars, plucking small vials off the shelf and into his hand as he went. Yato frowned, eyes quickly scanning the shelf again as Hiyori sidled up beside him. “Can you see moonstone?”

A second later Hiyori plucked a jar of small white stones off the lower shelf and passed it to Yato, her fingers brushing his as she did so. If Hiyori noticed the flinch Yato made at the unexpected contact, she didn’t show it.

“You forgot pearl dust,” Yukine said behind them.

Yato watched Hiyori’s fingers delicately pluck the missing ingredient from the second shelf and watched as she placed it in his hand, her fingernails just grazing his palm once again.

Hiyori stepped back to the table beside Yukine, and Yato – trying to ignore the lingering feeling of Hiyori’s soft fingers on his rough hand – joined them a moment later. Yato dropped the vials with a clatter over the table, popping the cork of the first one he could reach.

“Amortentia,” Yukine cited, “is the most powerful love potion in the entire world. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession for the drinker. It has a different aroma for everyone who smells it, based on what the user finds most attractive.”

Yukine whittled off the list of ingredients and began to read out each step of the potion, pausing so they could crush, cut, and stir in each ingredient until their mixture took on an iridescence.

“Once your potion is brewed smell the steam and tell your partner what you can smell,” Madame Kofuku called out to the class. She had taken a seat behind her desk and was watching the class with the faintest smile on her lips.

As if on cue, curly spirals of steam rose from each of their cauldrons. Yukine sniffed his potion once, twice, then wrinkled his nose.

“Earth and parchment,” Yukine announced. “Maybe sunflowers.”

Yato took a big whiff of his own potion and coughed. He looked at his own mix, which had turned to a pinkish sludge, and then at Hiyori’s. He looked between the two varying results and sighed. “I messed up.”

Hiyori peered into Yato’s cauldron and withdrew just as quickly as the strange smell rose up to greet her.

“Did you crush the rose petals?” Yukine asked, sounding surprisingly like Professor Takemikazuchi whenever he was disappointed in Yato during his first-year Potions class. “And stir slowly?”

Yato paused for a beat. “No and no.”

“You’re going to fail.”

Yato huffed and folded his arms. He looked at Hiyori – who was trying to hide her smile – and then at her cauldron. “What do you smell? Broomsticks and homework?”

Hiyori ignored the jibe and leaned forward slightly. She closed her eyes as the spirals encompassed her with heady scents she loved.

“Toothpaste.”

“That’s probably the peppermint,” Yato dismissed.

“Something sweet, like...” Hiyori inhaled deeply and paused, a small crease appearing on her brow.

“Well?” Yato prompted.

Hiyori frowned and drew back from the cauldron's steam, eyes opening and her head listing to the side slightly as she tried to piece together where she knew the scent from.

“I can’t explain it. It smells like Ya-.”

Hiyori cut off quickly and heat found her cheeks within seconds. Yato and Yukine peered at her curiously to the point she wanted to hide her face in her hands. She knew what she could smell, and she would rather die than admit it.

“Ya…?” Yukine asked.

Hiyori stole a glance at Yukine, and she could have sworn that from the teasing question and impish glint in his eye that he knew exactly what she was going to say.

“Yams,” Hiyori whispered the first thing she could think of.

Yato burst out laughing. “Why are yams so embarrassing? At least it’s not mud!”

“At least I can get the spell right,” Yukine shot back.

The bell rang out, signaling the end of class and saving Hiyori from further interrogation as to why yams were so attractive. Yato scooped up the vials and began placing them where he thought they belonged, giving enough time for Hiyori to catch Yukine’s eye.

Yukine’s eyes flicked to Yato and back to her. He winked and pressed a finger to his lips, telling Hiyori that her secret was safe with him.

The motion was gone as quickly as Yato turned around, completely oblivious and telling them they would be late for their next class. The remaining students had trickled out of the class by the time Yato, Hiyori and Yukine had dumping their cauldrons in the sink along the back wall.

They grabbed their bags from the floor and headed towards the door, but Madame Kofuku stood in their way. Softly, she closed the door and drew the bolt into the weathered stone hole, locking them in.

Madame Kofuku turned to them with a faint, apologetic smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I need to tell you something before I go. I would’ve told you sooner but using owls was too risky.”

Yato, Hiyori and Yukine gave Madame Kofuku quizzical looks but did not protest, even as the second bell rang out beyond the door.

“The Order has found something.”

Yato exchanged looks with Hiyori and Yukine. An update on the Sorcerer? They looked back to Madame Kofuku.

“What is it?” Yato asked.

Madame Kofuku walked around the three of them and placed her hand on the desk and sighed. “You’re aware that the Sorcerer was defeated in the First Great Wizarding War, yes?”

They nodded. The Order of the Phoenix had first been formed back then by Professor Tenjin to help the Ministry defeat him. A legacy they were now continuing.

Madame Kofuku continued. “Defeated, not killed like we first thought, but it seems that the Sorcerer has taken extra precautions to ensure that he cannot be killed.”

A chill came over the room despite the warming lake overhead keeping them insulated. Yato felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Madame Kofuku took another deep, regretful breath.

“In the Dark Arts, there is something so terrible that the Ministry won’t even tell us about it. It’s called a Horcrux; an object that holds a piece of soul that is torn away when the person commits murder.”

Yato, Yukine and Hiyori stayed silent, watching Madame Kofuku sink down into her chair. She looked between the three of them as she continued.

“We think the prophecy showed where the Sorcerer’s Horcruxes were hidden, which is why he needed to stop us from finding where they are.”

Madame Kofuku finished her statement and silence stole into the room for an agonising moment.

Horcrux… The word was as foreign to Yato as it was to Hiyori and Yukine. How could such a thing exist?

“So, you’re saying he’s immortal?” Yukine’s words sounded hollow in the cavernous room, although they rang like a nail in the coffin in Yato’s ears.

The Sorcerer couldn’t be defeated.

“For only as long as the Horcruxes survive,” Madame Kofuku corrected. “We’ve started the search, looking for clues from those who were pardoned Deatheaters under the Imperius Curse. They may know if the Sorcerer was preparing this in the First War.”

“How many are there?” Hiyori asked, and she cleared the dryness from her throat when the words came out hoarse. “How many Horcruxes?”

Yato felt his stomach plummet further at her next words.

“That’s the problem,” Madame Kofuku sighed. “We don’t know.”

#noragami #noragami aragoto #yato #yukine #hiyori #kofuku #iki hiyori #yatori #hp au #harry potter au #in the darkness #my writing

[willow-salix]

Isolation update and one of two planned offerings for @gumnut-logic 's "Touch" prompt. Enjoy!

Day 80 of Isolation on Tracy Island and it started with Alan breaking into the bedroom while we were still asleep. I woke to him rummaging around in the bedside drawer.

“Dude? Whatcha doin’?” I mumbled, it was far too early, I was far too snuggly warm and getting up was in no way on my radar for at least another few hours.

“Oh, I just wanted to borrow your contact lens solution.”

“Huh?” I groaned, having kinda half dozed off again while he had continued to search through the drawer. “What lens solution?”

“That stuff you got with those coloured lenses you wore at halloween.”

I prised one eye open again and poked the sleepy hamster in my brain that had fallen off the wheel and was far too lazy to get up again.

“Oh...that…” where was it? Where did I even put it? I tried to mentally rewind more than eight months… it wasn't easy. Hell, without this diary I wouldn’t even know what day of the week we were on or what I did two days ago…come to think of it, what did I do two days ago?

Fingers snapped in front of my face, making me jump.

“Did you drift?”

“Yeah, sorry...lens stuff...it’s in the…” where was it? I could picture it…”drinks cabinet in the lounge!” I finished triumphantly, that was it. We’d had a small party and I’d taken the lenses out half way through as they had made my eyes itch and I’d stashed them in the first place I had come across, which just so happened to be the place where I was returning to the most that night. I blame Scott, I always blame Scott, if there is ever a drinking game happening or karaoke is started, he’ll be there.

“Alan, I…where did he go?” The drawer was still open and the bedroom door was ajar, but at least it was quiet again. I yawned so wide I almost turned my face inside out and curled back up against the warm body next to me and closed my eyes…

Coffee...I smell...delicious black gold...I sat up a little without even opening my eyes and reached for the mug, taking a sip before I felt able to face the world.

Perfect. Milky, silky, smooth, sweet perfection in a mug. I opened my eyes to see that he'd put it in one of my favourite mugs, the black one shaped like a cauldron that said "witch's brew" on the side. The paleness of the milky latte was broken up by a swirl of coffee and caramel syrup that floated peacefully on the surface like a miniature galaxy. Top ten reason to marry a guy, he makes the most amazing coffee, even if he doesn't do it very often.

“Gods that's good, thank you, I so needed this.” I sipped again then put the mug down on the bedside table, I wanted to savour this...why was that drawer open and all my stuff messed up? Not that I was the tidiest person in the world but I know it wasn't that bad. My sluggish brain managed to kick up an image of the blond baby… “Did I dream Alan coming in at stupid o’clock this morning looking for something?”

“Hmm?” John stopped rummaging in the wardrobe to look at me. “I don’t know, I don’t remember anything after we started watching that film with the puppets in it.”

“They are Muppets, you heathen and I have no idea how you could fall asleep watching that, it’s amazing.”

“Because it was after two and I was tired?”

“Pathetic excuse. Anyway, back to the original question, did I dream Alan? What did he want?”

“Again, I don’t know, you’ll have to find him and ask.”

“Mm,” I agreed, picking up my coffee again. “I’ll go in a minute, it can’t be that urgent.”

An hour later I was actually up, showered, dressed and had even had breakfast, that’s how organized I was. OK, so it was technically after lunchtime but that's beside the point. I tracked the small one down to Virgil’s studio, which is never, ever a good thing. No one is allowed in there without permission on pain of death. I caught him just as he came out with a bottle of glue in his hands.

“What are you up to, Squirt?”

“Nothing!” Unfortunately he said that at the same time as he hastily tucked the glue behind his back.

“Nope, not falling for it. What’s going on?"

"Nothing!" he insisted again.

"I can see you hiding something behind your back."

“OK,” he sighed. “ But promise you won’t get mad?”

“What did you break? Because that’s only craft glue for paper, it won't fix broken things.”

“I know that! And I didn’t break anything, you always think the worst of me.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think that, I just know you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but then shut it again.

“OK, that’s fair," he admitted

“So why would I get mad if you didn’t break anything? Not that I’d get mad if you had broken anything as I’m sure it would have been an accident.”

“Thank you for your faith in me.”

“So, what are you doing?”

“Well, I was bored-”

“Understandable.”

“And I started looking around the internet and I kinda fell into a search hole-”

“Also understandable, I’ve been there myself far too many times to count.”

“Anyways, I found this post about things that kids did in the early two thousands and one of them was to make slime. Apparently everyone was obsessed with it.”

“Really? Slime?” I found that quite hard to believe.

“Yeah, there were even whole video channels dedicated to making it and playing with it.”

“People actually wanted to watch videos of people playing with slime? That’s disgusting.”

“No, it’s not like, super sticky slime, but more of a cool slime.”

“That makes zero sense, little dude.”

“I don’t understand it either, but it seemed too cool to not at least try, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I get that, I’ve done many things that seemed too cool not to.”

“Really? Like what?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“It’s not anything gross with my brother, is it?”

I gave him that look that says all and nothing, it’s always fun to keep them wondering just what the heck I even meant, the puzzlement on their faces is priceless.

“Wanna make slime with me?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “How bad can it be?”

***

“So you pour the glue in the bowl,” Alan instructed.

“Done that, what's next?”

“Then you add a… what does that symbol mean?”

I glanced at his phone. “Tablespoon.”

“One tablespoon of baking soda.” We both dumped that in the glue.

“A couple of drops of food colouring.” We both added green, him because he wanted to make fake snot, me because I wanted it to look like Slimer had been visiting.

“Now we add one or two tablespoons of the contact lens solution and mix.”

“Better add just one first,” I suggested, “if it’s anything like baking it's always better to start with less and add more.”

“Yeah, it says the more you add the sloppier it gets.”

We dumped in a spoonful each and mixed...and mixed...and mixed. I added a little more but wanted more of a thick consistency, he added a whole tablespoon more as he wanted ‘the whole slime experience’.

“No we have to knead it,” he instructed me.

“O...K” I didn't like the sound of that. I thought I'd just be mixing, not getting my hands in it. I poked the goo with a finger. “It’s cold!”

Alan, being Alan, just dived right in, sticking both hands in the bowl.

“Coool,” he grinned, squishing the gooey mixture so that it oozed out from between his fingers. “This is so weird.”

I was a little more delicate. I pushed my finger in knuckle deep and felt around. I don’t know what for or what I hoped to achieve. It was like poking barely set jelly, it left a bit of a dent and closed over my finger like it was sucking it in. “Ewwww.”

“This is great!”

“I don’t like it.” I wiggled my finger around in the slop then withdrew it, feeling the stringy strands stick to my skin. “Ewwww.”

“I love it!”

“You would, you gross little munchkin.”

“You gotta get your whole hand in there, don’t be shy.” He slapped his sticky hand down on top of mine, smaming it into the ick. I screamed. It was disgusting.

“You horrible little worm!”

“Wiggle your fingers!”

“No!”

“Do it!”

“No!”

“Dare you.”

“Dammit.” I wiggled and shuddered in revulsion. “It’s horrible.”

Alan was kneading his like he was making bread, putting in far more effort than he had that time we made pizza dough. I glanced into his bowl and yes, it was looking far better than mine was.

“Urghh I’m gonna have to do it, aren't I?” I took a deep breath and stuck both hands into the bowl. “Yuck, yuck yuck, yuck, yuck,” I chanted as I smacked and punched at the mess. Slowly but surely, it came together, becoming far less sticky and turning into a silky smooth substance that, I hated to admit, was actually quite satisfying to play with.

“You’re having fun, aren't you?” Alan grinned.

“I admit nothing,” I sniffed, though he was right and he knew it. I picked up the mess and pushed the bowl aside.

If he was treating it like dough, so would I. I dumped it on the counter and began to knuckle it, pulling and stretching with my hands, just as I would to add air to bread. Suddenly seized by the unholy urge to whip I, I grabbed hold of one end and flung my hand back, whipping it forwards to stretch out the slime and splat against the counter. OK, that was actually pretty cool.

“I wonder if this bounces?” I balled it up again and dropped it onto the counter top where it landed with a wet splat, flattening into a puddle.

“Coooool,” Alan whistled, doing the same to his, although his was a lot sloppier and spread across the counter. Mine looked more like a fried egg, his was like spilt juice.

“Oops,” he tried to pick it up but it was far too slippery, sliding between his fingers and plopping out of his hand.

I helped by grabbing a spatula from the utensils pot and trying to pick it up like it was a pancake. It didn't work. Strings of goo slid between the slats of the spatula and dripped downwards.

“Grab the bowl!” I yelped and he held it underneath to catch the run off. I scraped the spatula against the side of the bowl and peeled the last, stubborn bits off and flicked them into the bowl along with the rest.

“What are we actually going to do with this stuff?” I asked him.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got plans,” he grinned.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” I groaned. “Just please, keep me and John out of it, he doesn’t need the extra stress, he already has to put up with me.”

***

I was sensible with my weird goo, I added a few drops of essential oil having found, much to my amazement, that it actually was quite relaxing to squish it and play with it. I found myself taking it out of it’s tub frequently that evening while we watched a movie, smoothing out the cool jelly, kneading it in my palm and squeezing it until it smushed in between my fingers. The soothing scent of lavender wafting up to fill my nose.

“OK,” John said after watching me for quarter of an hour. “I’ll bite, what do you have there?”

“Slime, I made it with Alan,” I held out my hand and dropped the ball of eww into his palm.

The look of disgust on his face was everything.

“Squish it,” I instructed.

“Squish it?”

“Yeah, like this,” I plonked my hand down on top of his and mashed the goo between our fingers.

“That is the most revolting thing I’ve ever felt in my life.”

I pulled my hand away from his, the slime clinging desperately for a few seconds, stretching between our hands before it gave way and boinged back into one mass in his palm.

"I don't like it," he poked it with one finger.

“It’s not that bad, it’s actually quite ni-”

A pained yelp and then a bellow that sounded like an enraged bull echoed around the villa.

“That sounded like Scott,” I gasped, sitting up.

Scott skidded into the lounge, face like thunder, naked apart from a towel wrapped around his waist.

“What the hell happened?” I asked in shock. “What happened to your head?” I got up to look closer, seeing that a red bump was rapidly forming between his eyebrows.

“I was going to take a shower, but no water came out. I turned the water up higher and something green oozed out of the holes and then the whole shower head popped off and clonked me on the head.”

I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh.

“What do you have there?” Scotts eyes narrowed, zeroing in on John’s hand where he still held the slime.

“Run!” I yelped and John, pulling on his old track and field days, leapt off the couch and ran for the door, grabbing my hand as he went and towing me after him. It was safer to hide in the bedroom.

Apparently Scott wasn’t the only victim of the slime pranks. Alan had gotten rather creative. He had sneezed goo on Gordon and had mixed up a new batch that included peas and chopped up carrots and was a lovely yellow colour which he had dropped on the floor of Two’s cockpit at Virgil’s feet after making a series of increasingly violent retching noises. Jeff has yet to discover that there is blue slime in the soap dispenser in his bathroom. I dread to think where else it’s going to turn up. But what I do know is that Alan had better avoid Scott for the next few days, because that’s going to leave a bruise.

#alan tracy #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction #isolation island #social isolation #isolation #self isolating #thunderbirds in isolation

[rosegoldannie]

We have Chemistry

A feysand Highschool AU where they bond over science because Im in a great mood! The guy I’ve had a crush on all year finally asked me out, and we’re going to the movies! Tomorrow!

This is mainly a fluff, and is most definitely not scientifically accurate. ENJOY!!!

Masterlist

“You idiot!” Feyre hissed, storming down the long hallway towards the Dean’s office, because, yet again, Rhys had somehow managed to blow something up in Chemistry. 

“It’s not my fault!” He insisted, struggling to keep up with her. “I followed the protocol exactly. I did everything the lab instructions said to, and it still blew up.”

She whirled on him, glaring fiercely. “If you’d followed the protocol, it wouldn’t have blown up.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “That’s not fair. You-” He pointed an accusing finger at her, “were responsible for mixing the chemicals together.

“And you were responsible for getting them from the supply closet. So where do you think the mix up most likely occurred? Huh?”

Shaking his head, he stormed into the office with her hot on his heels. The desk attendant, a tired looking junior that she knew to be John, glanced up at them. “Again?” He groaned.

“Yep.” Feyre deadpanned, dropping onto the wooden bench pressed against the hideous creme walls. “Three guesses whose fault it was.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Her lab partner grumbled, dropping onto the bench beside her, his arms still crossed and glaring straight ahead.

John scoffed, beginning to scribble something on a sheet of paper. “If I had a dollar for every time he’s said that this semester.” He ripped the paper upwards, then slid it across the counter towards them. “A week of detention. The deans are getting tired of this, so they gave me the authority to punish you for them.”

Feyre instantly turned beet red, and slunk further down on the bench.

Rhys snatched the hall pass from the counter, and sauntered out of the office. Giving the poor junior an apologetic glance, she hurried after him, struggling to match his long strides, not wanting to risk yet another detention by being caught without a hall pass.

“Hey, slow down!” She hissed, struggling to keep up with his unfairly long strides.

“Why should I?” He snapped, taking longer strides out of spite. “You threw me under the bus in there.”

Fighting the urge to snap back at him, Feyre took a deep breath before speaking. “And what would you have had me do? Lie?”

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “No.”

They stopped, just outside of their classroom. A glance at the clock revealed that the bell would ring at any moment.

“Well?” She prodded.

Rhys sighed again, chewing on his lip. “You have to get the chemicals, I do the rest of the work.”

Shock flooded her, her jaw dropping. “I-Rhys, you know I’m dyslexic, right?”

He blinked. “And?”

“And you’d trust me with this?”

“Is there any particular reason why I shouldn’t?”

Feyre could only shake her head, utterly stunned.

The bell rang then, and he gave her a warm smile as students flooded out into the halls, laughing and shouting. “Good. It’s settled then.”

They managed to be civil during that day’s detention, much to the shock of the teacher monitoring them, Ms. Brun, who eyed them suspiciously every time there was any sound in the room.

Feyre blocked that out, and focused on filling out her lab report, as she had used her free period to re-create the experiment properly, as had Rhys. though, they’d mutually agreed that it would be for the best if they each did the experiment on their own to avoid any further incidents.

A ball of paper whizzed past her.

She didn’t notice.

Then another ball of paper careened by.

She watched it roll to a stop, then returned to her work.

An eraser hit the desk in front of her.

Feyre hardly glanced up.

A paper airplane floated gracefully down onto her work, smudging the wet ink. 

She brushed it off the desk with a huff.

A pencil smacked her in the head.

She kept her head down, kept writing, even as she clenched her jaw.

A highlighter collided with her desk.

Feyre remained focused on her report, even as annoyance warmed her face.

Ms. Brun stood, and announced that she was going to get some water, and to continue working. Feyre nodded that she understood, and continued working, even as Rhys made a non committed noise. The teacher shook her head as she left, and Feyre knew without looking that his feet were propped up on the desk, hands folded behind his head, ever the arrogant prick.

A ruler whizzed past, clattering across the floor.

Then a pencil.

Another eraser.

A notebook.

It was only when his calculator crashed into the whiteboard that she whirled in her seat to face him. “What.”

Her previous assumption of his posture had been correct. Rhys was reclined in his seat, feet propped up. “Oh, she deigns to reply.”

That annoyance quickly turned to anger. “Are you serious?! I have to finish this lab, or I won’t make the honor roll.” She hissed, eyes narrowing. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to prevent that.”

Rhys blinked. “Wow. I was just going to ask what you got for question nine. Jeez, take a chill pill, Archeron.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and tried to calm her roaring nerves. “Nine is trihydrogen monoxide sulfate.”

“Thanks.”

When Ms. Brun returned, she cast a glance around the room, at the papers, pens, pencils, erasers and notebooks strewn about, and sighed.

During their next lab, Feyre checked and rechecked the labels on both the beaker of water, and the beaker of vinegar, before carrying them carefully back to the desk she shared with Rhys, who was already scribbling down onto their shared lab report. “They’re both correct.” She murmured, setting the beakers down.

Rhys hardly glanced up, and adjusted his safety goggles. “Alright, let’s get to work.” He paused to study the steps, then reached for the beaker at the same moment Feyre did, and their hands collided softly.

“Sorry,” She murmured, quickly picking up the water, and dumped it into the larger beaker.

Her lab partner simply blushed, then added in his vinegar, before passing a pen over to her. “Alright, we’re supposed to wait for a minute before adding in the detergent, then we measure the resulting bubbles.”

Nodding, Feyre took the pen and began answering the questions.

After only a few seconds, Rhys nudged her. 

Annoyed, she looked up and gave him an accusatory glare. He then nodded towards the beaker. “Should it be fizzing like that?”

Indeed, their mixture was fizzing quite a bit, slowly bubbling up and filling in beaker, inching ever closer to the top.

At that moment, Professor Kallias strode by, then paused to examine their work. When he finally glanced up again, a warm grin melted his icy features. “Very well done, Miss Archeron, Mr. Nash. Stellar work.”

“Thank you, sir.” They chorused.

Professor Kallias gave them another congratulatory remark before continuing on down the row.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Feyre leaned over to hiss in her lab partner's ear. “Did you put the detergent in?”

An alarmed look spread across his face. “No, did you?”

“No.”

Rhys stared down at the fizzing mixture, his eyebrows drawn tightly together. “Then how- Wait.” He sniffed the air several times. “Do you smell that?” When Feyre shook her head, he then leaned down to sniff at the beaker, and instantly reeled back, coughing violently.

When she leaned over to pat his back, she caught a whiff of the mixture, and began to cough and cough, a wave of nauseating dizziness washing over her as the room spun. Her chest tightened painfully, even as her vision blurred.

“Oh no,” Someone murmured.

Her stomach gave a violent twist, and she was instantly out of her seat and barreling towards the sink to empty her stomach. She only made it a few steps, however, before she tripped over her lab partner’s foot, and fell into the sink, cracking her brow against the faucet.

Suddenly, Rhys was at the sink beside her, emptying himself of the sandwich he’d had for lunch with a loud groan.

Red flooded the line of sight in one of her eyes, even as she slowly began to take in deep breaths.

“What in the cauldron is going on here?!” Professor Kallias shouted, storming over towards them.

“Sorry, sir.” Rhys moaned, head still in the sink. Under different circumstances, she might have laughed. “I felt a bit sick.”

“And you?” Their teacher demanded. 

Feyre turned towards him then, and he paled with a muttered curse, before turning towards their beaker and giving it a very small sniff. His next curse wasn’t so quiet. “Everybody, go to the quad.” He stated, in a monotonous tone, even as his eyes had severely widened. “Now.”

The students let out a mixture of groans, and cheers as they quickly filed out of the room, and the door banged shut.

By now, Rhys had removed his head from the sink, but was still looking incredibly pale and sweaty.

Professor Kallias pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “You two...Just go to the Dean’s. I’ll clean this up.”

Rhys glanced over at her, and let out a sharp curse. He instantly became a fussing mother hen, and wet a paper towel, pressing it to her brow. Their teacher simply watched with an amused smile.

“Here, put your arm around my neck--yep, just like that.” He murmured, helping her out through the door, and began to half-carry her down the halls.

“I’m fine,” Feyre murmured, keeping the now blood soaked paper towel pressed against her cut.

“Bull.” He said, leading her back into the office they had been in only twenty four hours prior.

John let out a harsh sigh, not looking up from his book. “You guys again? Seriously, I swear we’re going to have to start shit!” He hissed, leaping to his feet. “Good God, what happened to you both?”

“Chemistry.” They both deadpanned.

Dull pain began to emanate from the cut, and pulsed in time with her heart, which was only racing because of the adrenaline. Not because Rhys had practically carried her here. 

“Miss Jenkins, we need your help.” John called, trading out the soaked paper towel for a clean one.

A portly older woman came from the nurse’s room, a kind smile on her lips. “Yes, dear? Oh good heavens!” She cried, scurrying over to them. “My word, are you both alright?”

“Yes,” Feyre muttered.

“No, actually, we’re not.” Rhys stated, giving her waist a tight squeeze.

“Well, follow me.” Miss Jenkins fretted, leading them back into the nurse’s room.

He carried her back, and set her down gently on the cot in the center of the room. When Rhys made to pull away and move to a chair, she gripped his arm and pulled him down next to her, deciding to blame her behavior on the loopiness she now felt.

Miss Jenkins carefully took the paper towel from her, and threw it away, before returning with some sterilized cotton balls, which she used to slowly clean the blood off of Feyre’s face in gentle swipes.

“Now,” The older woman began sternly, “tell me what happened to this poor young lady.” She cast a glance at Rhys. “And you too, young man.” She added as an afterthought.

“I tripped.” Feyre said.

“It’s a long story,” Rhys muttered, still looking palle.

Miss Jenkins tutted. “John, be a dear for me and fetch some crackers and juice from the cafeteria.” She called out, leveling a glare at Rhys, who visibly shrunk.

Feyre gave the hand she hadn’t realized she’d been clutching a mocking pat, a smirk worming its way onto her lips.

The woman stepped back, making to prepare some more cotton swabs. “Seeing as we have time, what exactly was the long story?”

“We were doing a lab in chem,” Feyre began, motioning for her lab partner to continue.

“And we switched roles today-” Rhys said.

“-Because yesterday Mr. Man here nearly blew us up-”

“-So she agreed to be the one who gets ingredients-”

“-And I swear I read the labels right-”

“-But when we mixed them it made a toxic gas-”

“-And I felt sick and ran to the sink-”

“-But she tripped-”

“-And I headbutted the faucet-”

“-Then I threw up.” Rhys concluded with a sigh.

Miss Jenkins blinked, returning to cleaning Feyre’s cut. “That’s quite the adventure, dearies. But, how did you make a toxic gas?”

“I don’t know,” Feyre murmured. “The two things we mixed were supposedly water and vinegar.”

“Supposedly?” Rhys scoffed. “I thought you said you read the labels!”

“I did!” She insisted. “They said water and vinegar!”

“Well they clearly weren’t.”

“Yeah, no shit dumbass.”

“Language!” Miss Jenkins shouted, eyeing them with exasperation, shaking her head as she continued swiping at the young girl’s cut.

“Sorry,” They murmured in unison.

“Heavens, you two both need to take a step back and apologize to each other!” Miss Jenkins tutted. “I’ve been listening to the two of you coming in and out of the Dean’s office all semester, and each time it’s because of some mysterious accident in Chemistry, and each time it’s the other person’s fault. And from what I’ve overheard, you two need to take a step back and realize you have a lot in common, before I lose what little sanity I have left. Isn’t that right, John?”

The door creaked open, and the sheepish junior tossed in a pack of crackers and a bottle of apple juice, nodding solemnly before sneaking back out.

“Darn boy always listening at the hinges, always thinks he’s going to overhear international secrets.” She muttered, pressing a band-aid to Feyre’s forehead. “There, all done!”

“Thank you.” Feyre murmured, slowly sliding away from Rhys.

“You,” Miss Jenkins leveled another stern glare at him. “School’s going to let out any minute now, and I’m taking you with the incredibly important job of taking her home. She might have a concussion, and I don’t want her to be alone.”

“Yes ma’am.” Rhys agreed, sending a smirk towards Feyre.

“Good. Now get out. The sooner you leave, the sooner I can go home.” She muttered, carefully shooing them out into the main office.

Rhys wrapped an arm around Feyre, and began leading her out into the parking lot, towards his jet-black, sleek car. 

“I don’t need a ride,” She muttered, crossing her arms.

“Tough.”

“I can take the bus.”

“Nope, get in.”

“You’re insufferable.” She hissed.

“Thank you, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” Feyre snapped as she slid into the passenger's seat.

Rhys simply smirked again, backing out of the parking lot as the bell rang and students began flooding out. “Apologies, darling.”

“You’re a menace.”

“We’ve established this, Darling.”

Feyre could only shake her head. “I can’t believe this.”

“Back at you. Hey, where do you live?”

“Nineteenth and Prythian.”

He nodded, then merged into traffic. “So.” 

“So what?”

“How much trouble do you think we’re going to be in?”

Suddenly, Feyre found herself giggling, then laughing, then absolutely cackling with glee, tears streaming down her face. After a moment, Rhys joined in, pulling over when he, too, started tearing up.

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#feyre x rhysand #feysand modern au #feyre archeron #Feysand #feyre cursebreaker #rhysand #feyreandrhysand #feyrhys #rhys x feyre #acotar #acomaf #acowar #high lady feyre #acofas #acotar fic #feysand fluff #feysand fic #feysand fanfiction #rowan x aelin

[axelsagewrites]

Sirius Black*Group Project Part 1

Ship(s): Sirius x reader

Requested (?): Nope.

Warnings?: couple of mild swears 

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Screw. Group. Projects.

I mean c’mon, what teacher actually thinks they’re a good idea? Either you’re with your friends and get no work done because you would rather do anything else than the actual project or you’re with random people in your class who couldn’t give an owl’s feather if you passed or not.

Also, it’s Hogwarts. Magic isn’t a group activity. Only one person actually fires the spell! But no Slughorn decided there was too much animosity in the class, so he wanted to ‘break down house division’ and ‘help us see eye to eye’.

Bull. Ever since James and lily actually got together there’s been no teenage drama for him to watch. So here we are waiting for him to go through his list as we stand at the front of the class. The chatter among my, albeit small, friend group died as he began to read. As the names were called out the group of 4 had to go find a station.

The stations began filling, from the back of course, and my friend group got smaller and smaller until I was stood there, alone, with 11 random classmates. Every group so far had someone from each house meaning at least 2 people were glaring at each other in every group.

I looked at the 10 others still up here. 2 Slytherins, 2 Hufflepuffs, 2 Ravenclaws, and 4 Gryffindor’s. This means there was at least 1 three. Not to promote stereotypes but please let me be in a group with a Ravenclaw! Or even a Slytherin, they get shit done! Hufflepuffs are nice about the fact they don’t do any work and Gryffindor’s are so hit or miss you don’t know what’s happening till the presentation! Not to be judgemental of course.

Luckily for me though I had no beef with anyone in the class. Some groups all were glaring at each other and some were refusing to even look at them.

3 more groups. C’mon. As he read 4 more names, none of which were mine, I watched as the two Ravenclaws, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor walked away. Please be with the Slytherins, I kept repeating in my mind. And then he called 4 names…and none were mine…I was in a three…” So that means (Y/L/N), Mr. Black, and Mr. Davies will be our three. How exciting? Now I do believe there should be a station left,”

I just walked to the last station, easily the grimiest workbench in front of the storage cupboard by Slughorn’s desk and dumped my stuff. Soon Hufflepuff’s quidditch team captain sat across from me, his head instantly going on the desk. At least he was here, the other dude, I don’t know his first name, was over at James station starting a fight with Snape! And I only knew their names because it was the class's whole drama for the past week!

As the steam cleared from my ears, I saw a piece of paper fall on my desk. As I opened it, I overheard Slughorn telling Black to go sit down. ‘Good luck xx’. “What’s that?” The Gryffindor leaned over me to try to see my note. Rolling my eyes, I flipped it over to write a response and he sat next to me without another word.

“Okay class,” Slughorn proceeded to explain the project, not even noticing the paper flying between my friend and me. it sounded okay. Not exactly easy but not hard since the work was divided between four, well three for us, but still.

We had a week. It was okay, doable. Sure, it was a lot of waiting for things to brew but it’ll be fine. Until I saw the potion written down. It wasn’t like most potions where you mixed some ingredients together…we had to make 3 potions to then mix into one big potion then add some other weird ingredient!

The class was filled with chatter once Slughorn stopped talking. We were supposed to start planning our potion. My group, however, was silent. Sirius, as I had now learned, was passing notes between James and him in the most obvious way and I could hear the snores from the boy whose name I still didn’t know.

I’m not about to feed into Slughorn’s want of drama, especially since I don’t want to start something, so I began to write down a rough plan. Basically, a to-do list then we just had to assign the tasks.

I did until I realised, we had five minutes left. “Guys,” I said. Silence. My cheeks flushed as I cleared my throat, “Guys,” I said louder. The boy’s snores faltered for a moment before continuing. Sirius wasn’t even looking. I sighed as I grabbed my wand. Quickly, my hand barely touching the wand, I sent a zap at Sirius.

“Ow!” Sirius jumped, knocking the station and waking up the other boy, while almost falling out his seat, “What the hell was that?”

“Mr. Black,” Slughorn warned. “Back to work,”

Sirius turned in his seat, finally looking at me and the other boy. his eyes fell on the Hufflepuff “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

Before a fight started, I jumped in, “Must’ve been an electric shock or something,” Sirius’ eyebrows furrowed at this, “It’s a muggle thing but um we should probably decide what we’re doing,”

The Hufflepuff sighed and rested his head in his arm, though still kinda paying attention. Sirius sighed but leaned over to look at the sheet. my whole body tensed as he leaned over, clearly not understanding personal space. My hand darted forward, pushing the sheet towards him, with a tight smile.

Sirius sat back, thank merlin, and looked over the sheet but the slight smirk on his face made me want to die. “Well, we could each do a potion then meet up to mix it all? Keeps it easy,”

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” I said.

“Look at us, being a team already,” Sirius looked at the boy, “Mostly,” he muttered.

“I heard that,” the Hufflepuff said, finally sitting up, “I can’t do one. I’ve got training,”

“For a week straight?” To my surprise it was Sirius who was making him do the work, “I know Hufflepuff is bad but has it gotten worse or something?”

“Hey! How would you know? Last time you touched a broom it almost went into filches office,”

“I was drunk,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “After celebrating Gryffindor’s win,”

“Only because Potter cheated when he- “

“No one cheated! You just can’t take a loss,” Sirius raised his eyes.

“Mr. Black,” Slughorn warned, standing from his desk.

“Why are you standing up for him? Everyone knows he’s already washed up because he’s been too busy chasing that redhead- “

“Oi! That is so not true!” this time it was the Hufflepuff smirking, “You just can’t take the fact your team needs drugs to play- “

“That’s enough!” Slughorn bellowed, “Mr. Black, go see Professor McGonagall,”

“Sir there’s like 2 minutes left,” Sirius spat back.

“Then you better be quick,” Slughorn and Sirius glared at each other before Sirius stood, grabbing his bag and basically storming out. Before he could leave Slughorn followed with “Detention tomorrow, 8 pm on the dot,” Sirius slammed the door. Slughorn, and now the rest of the class, looked at us, “That applies to you too,”

“This is so not my fault. I have practise!”

Slughorn glared down at him, “I’m sure they can survive one practise,” when he went to speak again Slughorn cut him off, “I don’t hear (Y/L/N) complaining.” I just kept my head down. “tomorrow at 8pm, sharp.”

As the class began to pack up, I quickly looked at the potions, “Hey the second one only takes a little over an hour. Why don’t you do that one and well do the long ones?”

He glared at me as he stood, putting on his own bag. “What page?”

“38,” I said, quickly getting to my own feet, “If you finish it for Wednesday, I can mix it all for the Friday?” The bell went and the Hufflepuff just walked away. I held back either screams or tears of frustration as my friend walked up to me, “Kill me,”

But she didn’t and I showed up to detention the next day. 8pm, sharp, on a Friday. When I walked in no one was there, not even Slughorn. I debated whether or not to wait in here, in the corridor, to sit down. I’d never had detention before. Something about standing in an empty class made me feel wrong and I darted out to the corridor to wait.

As I walked out Slughorn and Sirius turned the corridor. “Thinking of leaving?” Slughorn asked.

“No-no sir. I um didn’t know if I should wait- “

“Just go in,” He cut me off, walking in himself.

“Never had a detention?” Sirius rolled his eyes, walking past.

I swallowed, following behind, “No,” his head wiped round, raising an eyebrow, “What?” I said. He chuckled and turned around, that smirk coming back.

“Now Mr. Davies won’t be joining us- “

“-That’s not fair- “

“As he was unable to get out of practise,” Slughorn raised his voice to talk over Sirius, “However he will get his detention later, I can tell you that much. As for you two,” he walked over to the sink, “you have the joy of washing these. Leftover cauldrons from first years,” I grimaced as I saw the green sludge on one of them smoking, “However I need to go for a teacher meeting so I will be leaving you unsupervised. Feel free to leave but only after all of these are clean,”

Slughorn walked towards to door to leave and Sirius muttered something under his breath, “Oh and- “Slughorn stopped and turned to us, “When I come back every dirty cauldron drops a letter grade from your project. Have fun,”

Once the door shut, I felt my heart sink. “So…” I said, instantly dying beside. Sirius looked at me and I had to look away, walking toward the sink, “Time to clean,”

The small laugh from his lips made a shiver go down my spine, “How have you never had detention?”

#Sirius Black #young sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius imagine #young sirius x reader #young sirius black imagine #young sirius imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter cast #harry potter ships #harry potter imagine #Marauders #marauders era #young marauders #harry potter marauders #marauders imagine

[an-upset-librarian]

Litost (Czech): “A state of torment created by the sudden sight of one’s own misery.”

Here’s another part of my Elriel series, which you can now find here on my AO3. This is quickly turning into a slow burn series, but I can’t control myself. They’re just so perfect. I hope you enjoy and please don’t forget to let me know what you think!

Hiraeth       Saudade 

Elain woke coated in a slimy layer of cold sweat with the echo of a scream in her throat. Gasping, she threw her bedsheets as far away as she could and sat up, her hands shaking. She rose to her feet, wobbling, and stumbled over to the bathroom connected to her room. Panting, she turned on the faucet and doused her face and neck with the blessedly cold water.

             Breathing heavily, she kept her eyes closed as the droplets of water rolled down her skin and slowly, she felt her heart rate return to normal. She stared into the mirror, at her pale skin and the shadows underneath her eyes, a wave of irritation washing through her at the reflection that stared back at her. The pointed tips of her ears peeked out from under her tangled blonde hair, reminding her of the body she could never get used to. She wasn’t even sure how strong she was anymore. She wasn’t as physically strong as Feyre or any of the Illyrian males, but she’d caught herself accidentally crushing teacups and crumbling stone under her fae fingers.

             She only remembered the barest impressions of her dream, like the beginning strokes of a painting giving an idea to the canvas, but not a concrete image for anyone else to understand. She was drowning in the cauldron, watching her father die and watching her sisters die, but that was all Elain could remember of the nightmare.

             More than she wanted to remember.

             Her body still shuddered intermittently, nausea curling in her gut and crawling up her throat. Elain just stood, leaning against the bathroom sink, and tried to regain control. She didn’t think she would be getting any more sleep tonight.

             Instead of weeping in her bathroom or staring blankly at the walls of her room, Elain decided to go out to her new garden of night blooming flowers and plant their seeds under the light of the moon with the stars as her only companions. Hopefully the gorgeous night sky would help bring her mind some peace.

             It wasn’t called the Night Court for nothing. The night sky was always blooming with swirls of blue and purple mixing in with the blackness of the night, millions of stars peeking through the night sky. The moon was just a sliver that night, a smile curling in the sky and soothing her tormented mind. Elain let out a relieved breath as she stepped out into her garden, her feet instinctively taking her past the rows and rows of vegetables to the newest plot she was creating.

             A section to honor the Night Court, her sister’s home. She knelt and began working her hands into the soil, a pleased hum rumbling in her chest as the warm soil touched her skin. She could always find comfort in the earth, in plant life. Ever since she was young, and her family lived in a large estate, she would tend to her own idea of a garden. Even when they had nothing and lived in poverty she tried to maintain a garden. It might not have been enough to repay Feyre for her sacrifices, but it was all she could do.

             Soon Elain felt the residual fear from her nightmare slowly fade away as she tended to the delicate flowers Rhys brought. If she remembered right, there was a type of jasmine, a fae flower she couldn’t pronounce, the Blaithoiche, and one Rhys just called ‘The Queen of the Night.’

             The memory of Azriel sitting across from her and watching as she dumped soil into the plot, the barest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips when she spilled soil all over her skirt, filled her head and she fought off a blush as her heart skipped a beat.

             Azriel was just being nice to her, helping her transition into her new life in Velaris. It was his job. Yet, she still found herself growing attached to the quiet spymaster and his curling shadows. Sometimes she swore she saw him watch her, something dark and primal swirling in his eyes. Perhaps in another life, where she wasn’t mated to a stranger she wanted nothing to do with, they could have been something together.

             But it was foolish to project her lonely heart onto him. Foolish and naïve.

     Elain turned her attention back to the soil and the saplings she carefully planted, using only the light of the stars to guide her. Time passed, and Elain found peace as she worked, the inner clockwork of her mind ticking steadily as she focused. She could feel the barest brush of a vision against her mind, slowly trying to worm its way into her consciousness and torment her.

             But she was used to pushing the power down into a small corner of her mind. She hadn’t had a vision in weeks, and she wanted it to stay that way.

             It was when she was nearly finished, as the moon crested high above her, that she noticed another presence enter her garden. She gripped the trowel tight enough to turn her knuckles bone white as she turned, eyes scanning through the stalks and leaves. Her fae eyesight let her garden in the darkest night with little trouble, but even she could not see the other person in her garden.

             “Who’s there?” She asked, ashamed of the wobble in her voice. The handle of the trowel was burning hot in her palm, her knuckles turning white.

             “I didn’t mean to startle you,” Azriel’s low voice echoed from behind her. Whirling around, Elain felt her body relax as she saw the spymaster hiding in the shadows of the greenhouse, his blue siphons gleaming in the starlight.

             “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her voice a breathless whisper. Her hand shook as she set the trowel down on the wall of the plot.

             “Can’t sleep?” Azriel asked, walking closer, the starlight revealing his calm features. Elain hoped he couldn’t see the blush staining her cheeks in the dark as he approached. Azriel was wearing his fighting leathers and they emphasized his muscular form. His wings mere shadows at his back in the night and he wore two siphons on his shoulders in addition to the usual two on his hands. Curious, she asked, “Where did you go?”

             He stared at her, his expression unreadable, with his wings folded tightly against his back. She pursed her lips and waited, knowing he was debating whether to tell her. Elain didn’t know why she even asked. She knew his position in the court demanded utmost secrecy.

             “North, into the mountains,” he finally said. Elain didn’t know much about the Night Court’s politics, but she knew there was unrest in the north, among the Illyrian’s living there. The Illyrian’s whom Azriel despised. He was terrible at hiding his disdain for the culture he was born into, and from what Elain had gleaned from the scars on his hands and the quiet whispers she overheard, he hated them for a damn good reason.

             “Everything go okay?” She asked and the concern was audible in her voice. She cursed herself again for her weakness. Why would he trust her with any information? She was just simple Elain. She cooked and cleaned and gardened and wasn’t to be trusted with anything too important. Elain roughly shoved the trowel into the soil, using her rising frustration to fuel her actions as she dug deeper into the plot.

             “Well enough, all things considered.” Azriel’s voice moved closer, but Elain didn’t move to look at him. Her curiosity rose. While Elain was content enough, living her life as it was now, she couldn’t help but long for something more. She wanted to help her family, but she did not know how to begin.

             The claws of the vision dug deeper into her mind, tearing into her consciousness and reaching deeper. Her Seer powers desperately wanted to make themselves known but with a slight wince Elain just shoved the visions back. She breathed in the cool night air, let it soothe her from the inside out.

             “That’s good to hear, I suppose,” she said after a pause. She quickly finished planting the seeds and lightly patted the top layer of soil, a soft smile parting her lips as she thought about how pretty the flowers would look in full bloom under the brilliant night sky.

For a moment, she felt like herself. But that moment passed, as quickly as the wind.

             She stood, brushing the dirt from her skirts, which was when she realized she was wearing only her nightgown and robe. She hadn’t bothered to change before coming outside. Blushing, Elain tightened the long silken robe around her thin form and finally looked over at Azriel.

             He was standing only a few feet away, his hands folded in front of him, his eyes fixed on hers. Elain hoped he couldn’t see the pink staining her skin. Her eyes caught on his glimmering siphons, her thoughts focusing on the power they contained. She opened her mouth to say goodnight, but froze when the moonlight shifted, a beam of light falling directly on the siphon on Azriel’s right shoulder. Blue flashed, and Elain was lost to the vision that had been haunting her for weeks.

             Her eyes filled with that blue light and her mind opened wide. She felt the vastness of her Sight expand impossibly as the vision took hold of her mind and soul. Short bursts of images flashed by as screaming filled her ears. The vision started to melt, morphing into an unrecognizable stream of colors and sounds.

             And then Elain knew only blackness as her body gave way to unconsciousness.

***

             “…hadn’t had an episode in weeks, why now?”

             “…stress…delicate…”

             “Let her rest.”

             Elain’s mind woke before her body did, and she chose to lay with her eyes closed and body unmoving for a few moments. Her head pounded and she felt like she was going to explode from the pressure. She couldn’t hear anymore voices anymore, and it seemed as though she was alone again. The vision had faded to distant memory, though she was sure flashes would haunt her for a while.

She relished in the warmth of the sun against her skin and the softness of her bed beneath her. Slowly, Elain opened her eyes, squinting as she adjusted to the harsh sunlight streaming through her open windows.

             A cool breeze wafted through the windows, the air dancing across her skin and ruffling her clothes. Elain inhaled in the refreshing air as it wafted through the room, her mind calming slightly at the fresh air.

             She sat up, her head pounding and her throat achingly dry. With a slight groan, she made her way into the bathroom and gulped down the water from the faucet, not even caring how it might look. She stared into the mirror, memories of the night before swarming her thoughts. First the nightmare, then she passed out from the vision right in front of Azriel.

             Her reflection was still unfamiliar. It looked like her, but not the self she had grown to know. She quickly looked away.

Her mind felt like a tangling of thorns and vines, and she was quickly being trapped between them.

And she did not know if she would survive long enough to find her way through that forest of deadly thorns before they pierced her skin and bones. Before they planted seeds of their destruction deep within herself and sprouted, eating her away from the inside out.

Elain thought of going out to her garden to help calm her mind, as it always had before, but something stopped her. She remembered her late-night talk with Azriel and how she’d so foolishly let herself be overcome by a powerful vision. He must think her weak too, just like the others. If only she could stuff that power deep down inside herself forever, but no. Her Sight came with consequences.

She still remembered the haze she was in for the first few months after being Made. Could remember how nothing made sense, how she didn’t even know if she was awake or if it was all a terrible nightmare.

But the nightmare was real. She was High Fae. Made. And there wasn’t anything to do about it.

Elain quickly bathed and changed into a fresh dress, braiding her hair and throwing it over her shoulder before venturing to the closed door lying between her and the rest of the house. She took a deep breath. There was no point in delaying the inevitable. They could probably tell she was awake already anyways, no doubt due to Azriel’s shadows or Rhys’s powers.

With a sharp nod Elain opened the door and stepped out into the hall. She already knew what the next hour was going to entail: her sister asking her about the vision, asking if she was really alright and if she needed a healer to come, and if there was anything she could do. To which Elain would answer: no, she did not remember the vision, no she did not need a healer, and no there was nothing she could do for there was nothing wrong.

Before she even got the chance to take a step towards the stairs, she nearly walked face-first into a hard chest. Elain made a surprised noise and took a step back into the doorway of her room. She looked up into concerned hazel eyes.

“Azriel, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there.” Elain wrung her hands together, quickly averting her gaze.

“I did not mean to startle you.” Azriel folded his hands behind his back, his wings folded tight. Elain found herself looking up at his elegant face, at the clean lines of his jaw and chin and the concerned fold of his brow. She gazed into his dark eyes and felt at a loss for words for a moment.

But then she remembered why she was so distraught in the first place. She remembered how she’d made a complete fool of herself last night in the garden, and the moment passed.

“Oh, the fault lies with me I should have been paying more attention to where I was going,” she said with a forced smile. Azriel narrowed his eyes and shadows curled up his neck, little tendrils caressing his jaw almost reverently. She had the brief thought of what it would feel like to replace those shadows with her hands.

He stared at her in silence, as if reading something she couldn’t see. She nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and waited, her voice stuck in her throat.

“I see you, Elain,” he said at last, his hoarse voice barely above a whisper. He stared into her, the shadows slowly receding as he spoke. “I see your strength and I see what you do for your family that they cannot understand.” The lump in her throat dropped to her stomach and she felt the exterior she was trying so hard to maintain begin to crumble under his emotional gaze.

“I see your suffering and your pain, and I want you to know that while you may feel like you are isolated and that you have to force that pain deep down into yourself, I am here for you. Whatever you need.” Azriel’s hand moved, as if to reach for hers, but his fingers curled back, and Elain felt her own fingertips twitch forwards.

Her breath caught and she felt as though the two of them were on the cusp of something. As though they were both standing at the edge of a cliff, about to dive into the unknown waters swirling below. And she thought, would it really be so terrible to leap? To take that last step and move forwards into something she couldn’t see the outcome for. Azriel was always there, always quietly supporting her from the sidelines, and Elain didn’t think she could go on without him there behind her.

             “I-” she stuttered. Her hand moved on its own, reaching forwards to take his, the rough skin of his palm scratching hers. She saw his eyes widen as he grasped her hand, almost as if he didn’t expect her to touch him, as if he wasn’t worthy of being touched.

             “I see you too, Azriel.” She squeezed his hand, the emotion she couldn’t put into words just yet clear in her eyes. He stared at her almost reverently. But those thorns were still growing, their seeds already planted and sprouted inside of her.

             “But I am a broken thing and I don’t know who I am anymore.” She breathed. Elain released his hand and brushed past him, her heart cracking as he stood silently in her doorway, his hand still extended, palm cupped as if still holding hers.

#elriel #my writing #elriel fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjmaas #elain archeron #azriel #feysand #fanfiction

[lefayexplores]

The Grand Gesture Part 2: Don’t Inhale the Chlorine Gas

“You’re sure this will work?” Lefay gave the goblin a dubious glance as she held the sack of precious gold ore pebbles to her chest. The goblin heaved a sigh through his mask, which sounded more like a loud shkshhh. 

“Uplander asks for help. Uplander comes to Mutamix because Mutamix is best. Mutamix offers help. Now Uplander questions Mutamix. Help or question! Pick, pick!” The little goblin took his gloved hand and poked at her leg. 

“Alright alright!” Lefay said with a groan and dumped the gold ore into the cauldron. “But I want to do this on my own as much as possible, so if you could give me the supplies and tell me what to do I would greatly appreciate it. I wish to learn.” 

“Uplander’s braincase only so big, cannot fit all learnings Mutamix has. But this should be simple task even for Uplander.” The goblin pointed to two containers he had set out earlier. Both looked to have some sort of hazard symbol on them, but Lefay couldn’t read the scrawling. “Mix together in cauldron: two of left for one of right. Being filled too high is bad, too low bad too. No spilling, no skin-touching or sizzling will happen. Uplander does not want sizzling.”

“Not want sizzling, right...” Lefay reached for the jars but then peeked over her shoulder to make sure the goblin was watching her. Only when she was sure she was properly supervised did she begin mixing the chemicals in the proper two to one ratio. A strange smell occurred when she mixed them together and she leaned over to take a sniff, only to have her face smacked by a goblin mitt. 

“Uplander’s brain case being smaller than Mutamix could even imagine! Never sniff, never ever sniff!” The sternness in the goblin’s voice had increased significantly, and Lefay’s ears pinned to the back of her head. She nodded and then leaned her head away as she dumped the mixture into the cauldron. There was more sizzling, more gas produced, but Lefay stayed clear of it.

“Mutamix be witnessing miracle of how Uplander is learning. But Uplander’s mixture is proper, good good. Now Uplander sit and be quiet until sun sets while shiny dissolves.” Lefay looked up at the sky, it was at least six bells until Azeyma rested. 

“That long?” The Seeker pouted slightly to herself, before her ears perked up and she gasped. “Wait....DISSOLVE?! You’re DISSOLVING my gold!?” The goblin let out another skhoshhh sigh from his mask. 

“Yes, shiny be dissolving, only shiny. Then filter out nobody-cares boring rock, then take sulfate solution and mix to shiny solution. Sit out, shiny comes back as powder. Melt powder, let cool, pure shiny.”  The goblin thumped Lefay on the leg with a branch and gestured to the pot. “And stir. Stir! No sniffing, only stirring.”

The goblin wandered away, leaving Lefay to sit over the cauldron and stir as instructed. The gold refinement process was far more time consuming and complicated than she had anticipated, but with a jaw set she stirred, determined to see it through fully. 

@wmahji-tia-ffxiv

#ffxiv rp #ffxiv screenshots #this reminded me too much of chem lab

[looptheloup]

Title: ‘Doesn’t Realise They’ve Been Injured’

Chapter: Chapter 4 of ‘my thoughts are the cold kind’

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick

Warnings: Implied Abuse, Burn, Injury

*

Doesn’t Realise They’ve Been Injured

Draco kept his head down all through Charms. He took careful notes and answered promptly when Flitwick called on him, which he did twice, but he could still feel the teacher’s eyes lingering on him and he sighed, resigned, when the class finished and he saw Flitwick heading straight towards him.

“Just a moment, Mr Malfoy!” he called and Draco kept packing up steadily, waiting for Flitwick to reach him. The rest of the students filed out and Draco looked down at Flitwick, trying to keep his expression neutral, “Perhaps you can take a seat, Draco,” Flitwick said. “I think we need to have a word.”

“Sir?” Draco said warily.

Flitwick talked about Draco not concentrating over the last couple of weeks, about his recent, substandard work and how tired he looked. Draco tried to make his expression appropriately contrite and made noises at intervals to show he was listening, even as tired anger bubbled under the surface. He was trying, he really was, couldn’t anyone see that? He knew he was a failure, okay, but he really was trying. Flitwick tried to coax what was wrong out of Draco, asking if someone was bullying him, or if he was struggling to sleep, or feeling down. Draco just smiled tightly.

“It’s really nothing,” he said, “just some late nights, you know.” Trying to convince Flitwick he was an idiot rather than hiding something. But Flitwick kept looking at him, concerned, and Draco apologised again and fumbled for a way to extract himself, “I really have to get to class,” he mumbled, which was true. “I’ll try harder with my homework,” he promised.

Flitwick gave him a look like he was disappointed and then only sighed and made a gesture of dismissal, “Very well,” he said, “but you can always come to me, Draco.”

“I’m fine, really,” he lied. Flitwick finally let him go, though he looked troubled and not at all convinced, and Draco hurried off, all but running towards Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Slipping through the door into the classroom, Draco ducked his head against Snape’s glare as he slunk into his usual seat and fumblingly got out his quill and parchment. He could see Potter sitting somewhere up front but he avoided looking at the Gryffindor.

Snape drawled on in his customarily condescending manner and Draco forced himself to stay focused, and to ignore the ache in his ribs. He didn’t look at the back of Potter’s head and tried to push aside all the mixed-up thoughts inside his head. Had Potter really sounded concerned or was he simply being pathetic? Potter was the golden boy, he’d be concerned if anyone fell off their broom, right?

Draco flinched when something small and white suddenly collided with his cheek and he looked up in shock to see Snape looking at him thunderously and the rest of the class turned to stare, including Potter. Draco flushed, looking down at the piece of broken chalk that was now lying on his desk.

“Are we boring you, Mr Malfoy?” he said icily.

“Uh, no sir,” Draco mumbled and Snape narrowed his eyes briefly before turning back to continue discussing- whatever he’d been talking about. Draco rubbed at his cheek to get rid of the chalky smear and glanced down at his notes to realise that he hadn’t written anything in ten minutes or more. He sighed wearily and rubbed at his throbbing head before he started jotting down some of what Snape was saying. He couldn’t process it now, but he hoped he could make sense of it all later, when his head didn’t feel like it was stuffed full of gravel.

Snape finished talking and started irritably putting students into pairs to do a practical.

“Mr Malfoy, you and Mr. Potter can work together,” Snape said sharply and Draco gave Snape a desperate, you can’t be serious look, but Snape just gestured impatiently for Draco to sit at the front beside Potter, and Draco grudgingly heaved himself up, gathered his things and slunk over. Slouching down on the stool, he looked blankly at his notes and blinked at them.

“Page three-hundred-and-one,” Snape ordered and Draco obligingly flicked to the right page, ignoring the green eyes that kept looking over at him from behind round spectacles. Moth-wings and foxglove, right. Draco got up at the same time as Potter and he gave Potter a cold glare. Potter sat back down.

“You get the- stuff then,” Potter mumbled. Draco huffed and walked off to fetch the materials the textbook listed, as well as scales and a stirrer. They used Potter’s cauldron because Draco had forgotten his, something that Snape didn’t fail to notice.

“You sleeping alright?” Potter said as Draco was adding ground peacock beak and Draco startled, turning to stare at Potter. Thoughts of his disturbed night, nightmares chasing him and leaving him sweating and shaking, came into his head.

“What?” he said. Potter couldn’t possibly know. There wasn’t any way in hell.

Potter licked his lips and Draco followed the flick of that pink tongue, “You seemed kind of out of it, you know, earlier, when Snape-”

Draco blushed in remembered embarrassment, “Shut up,” he growled and snatched the next ingredient, rowan bark, out of Potter’s hand and dumped it into the pot.

“I hadn’t measured that yet!” Potter snapped and Draco glared at him.

“Well why in hell didn’t you do that instead of bloody well interrogating me!” he said.

Potter’s mouth opened and closed, “I wasn’t interrogating you, you prat!” he said sharply, colour rising in his cheeks, distracting Draco with the pink flush of it on Potter’s too-pale skin, “I was only asking!”

Draco glared venomously, jabbing the stirrer at Potter’s chest, “Only asking, sure!” he said, mocking, “Like you bloody care, Potter!”

Potter stared at him indignantly, his chest rising in a huff, “I don’t care!” he said quickly and Draco narrowed his eyes. Of course Potter didn’t care, he was just a nosy, self-righteous idiot, but Draco was damned if the words didn’t sting somehow. “I- was just-”

“Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy,” Snape said, suddenly right behind Draco, his low voice making Draco jump violently. In his shock, his elbow swung out and knocked the cauldron off its tripod. Draco tried to grab it but he wasn’t fast enough and Potter leapt out of the way as the gloopy, bubbling contents went splashing all over the desk and onto the floor.

Snape sighed heavily and Draco cringed before he could stop himself, finding Potter scowling at him. Snape looked pointedly at his watch.

“You’re all dismissed,” he barked at the class, and then looked back at Potter and Draco, “Detention for the pair of you,” Snape said. “You can clear this mess up in your own time. And don’t use magic. Perhaps that will teach you to be more careful in the future, Mr Malfoy.”

“But sir!” Potter protested while Draco just stood there, “I- we have Quidditch practice.” Draco didn’t know what Potter was on about: Draco didn’t have practice today, but he didn’t correct him. He didn’t really care about getting detention.

For just a second there, he’d felt the panic of having messed up, and heard Snape’s sigh, and he’d braced for a cane to the back. Detention was nothing, even if he did have Charms homework for tomorrow. He resigned himself to another late night.

Snape lifted his eyebrows, “Better get it done quickly then,” he said snidely and walked off, leaving them alone.

Draco exhaled through his nose and stepped away to fetch a cloth as Potter grudgingly righted the cauldron and started clearing their workstation of the materials.

“If you hadn’t been so damn clumsy,” Potter grumbled.

Draco’s temper snapped, “You know what-” he spat, “fuck you, Potter! Like you’re so friggin’ perfect that you’ve never made a mistake in your whole damn life!” He scrubbed angrily at the sticky, foul-smelling liquid on the table, before Potter suddenly grabbed his wrist and he stilled.

“You’re hurt,” Potter said. Am I? Draco thought and looked down at his hand to see a livid red burn there, where the cauldron must have scolded him. Once he’d seen it there, a harsh stinging set in and he grimaced, before he managed to make his expression impassive. Potter’s fingers were warm against the skin of his wrist and Draco tugged himself free, turning away to clean off the cloth.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re not,” Potter protested and Draco rolled his eyes, though Potter didn’t see. “You should go to Madam Pomfrey. I’ll do this.” He took the damp cloth out of Draco’s unresisting hand, his fingers brushing Draco’s palm and Draco stared at him blankly before he gathered himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he mumbled and picked up Potter’s cauldron to go and wash it out. They cleaned the rest up in silence, though it seemed to Draco that there was less hostility between them than usual and Draco realised, the thought striking him out of nowhere and making him pause, that he felt somewhat safe with Potter. The idiot was so sickeningly moral and upstanding that Draco struggled to imagine him doing anything that was in anyway underhand or cruel, not like his father was capable of. Hell, what Draco was capable of.

Except, Potter had cast that curse on him, the one that had torn up his skin and left him bleeding in the wet bathroom. But Potter had collapsed down on his knees beside him and, as much pain as Draco had been in, he’d seen Potter’s face; the horror and panic, instead of the coldness on Draco’s father’s. He didn’t think Potter would do it again.

Draco felt slightly sick but he packed his things up numbly, wincing at the discomfort caused by flexing his injured hand. He mumbled a response to whatever Potter said to him as he was slinking out of the classroom, though he hadn’t heard what Potter had said. Out of the door, he hurried off down the corridor and forced himself to slow his unsteady breathing, glancing down at his injured hand with an angry scowl, before he curled it into a fist by his side. He resolved to keep his distance from Harry Potter.

Updates Monday and Thursday

#harry potter #draco malfoy #severus snape #filius flitwick #2018 #fic #my fic #drarry #harry x draco #angst #whump #hurt #badthingshappenbingo #doesn't realise they've been injured #ficlet #mine #writerly things #ao3 #my thoughts are the cold kind #implied abuse #burn #injury

[sunevial]

The Followers: The Witch

The second installment of my DMP fanfiction made by the wonderful people at @internetremix! Hope you enjoy!

A peculiar smell wafted through the dimly lit store, weaving through the hanging plants and seeping into the wood paneling. No one who ever visited her little corner of the world could correctly guess just what it was, or maybe more accurately, no one wanted to guess just what it was. The woman had that sort of reputation. Rumors floated on the wind that she was versed in the use of potions, mixing her own infernal blood into concoctions to fuel rituals to an evil god. If she had a name, no one used it. Young and old alike just called her a witch.

The woman chuckled a little, mixing a little bit of powdered belladonna into her mortar and pestle and grinding it into the thick paste. She was young, or at least, everyone told her she looked young with that bobbed hair. Her clothes were casual enough: button up skirt, tank-top, and a loose off the shoulder blouse that exposed a small black star along her collarbone. Those townsfolk, with their wild imaginations. It wasn’t like every expecting woman bought small vials to ensure both mother and child came out well, or that jilted lovers came in the dead of night seeking her strongest draughts of poison. It wasn’t her fault the dying banged at her door early in the mornings, begging for a cure for their illnesses, nor her fault that vengeful men slipped through her back door, asking for death curses.

Well, those townsfolk got one thing right about her. She was indeed a witch. Or rather, she was The Witch, blessed with blood magics and Her only servant who could also manipulate the strings of life and death.

The woman remembered playing the game. She did not necessarily remember dying. Back when the world was young and wild, the Captain did not have enough souls yet to run games out into infinity. But there were still plenty of living people She could play with. Not as many opportunities for new scenarios, perhaps, but the show had to go on.

The woman remembered arriving. Coughing smoke out of her lungs, she stumbled into a small village along with nine of her closest friends and family, the ten of them fleeing the roaring flames. A blonde woman with incredibly short hair greeted them with kind words and open arms, saying they could eat, drink, rest, and be merry. The next morning brought the sight of her best friend, lying in a pool of blood. Those horrid nights continued, terrifying and all too long. One by one, her closest kin dropped like flies even as after they found one of the horrible werewolves. And all the while, the blonde woman just watched and smiled. No one ever thought to question her. No one dared.

The woman remembered that night. It had been the ironically named witching hours, the darkest time of night when good folk rest their heads and only foul things walk the earth. She awoke to claws glistening in the moonlight. There was so much blood. Her blood. But she, the daughter of a medicine man, had remembered her father’s tricks. Grasping blindly in the dark, she grasped a small cup she had prepared many moons ago. Her body in agony, she let some of her blood drip into the mixture, releasing a terrible metallic smell, before hurling it at her attacker. There was a screech as the concoction burned away fur and rendered flesh from bone, and the killer collapsed in a pile on the dirt floor. Gasping for air, she took a second cup and drained the contents, feeling the wound in her stomach slowly knit itself together before she passed out.

The woman remembered that morning. When sun rose over the horizon and all could see what happened, she noticed the blonde woman’s face contorted into a sneer, showing a small glistening fang. Then…she raised an eyebrow and smiled.

With fear and truman laced in their eyes, the few straggling survivors disappeared into the wilderness. The woman stayed behind, resting in the little house and waiting for the inevitable. She could not leave even if she wanted to. The Murder God had been cheated out of a death, and that just wouldn’t do at all, now would it? That was alright by the woman. She had seen Her power, the way she played with life and death as if it was a child’s toy, bending reality to her whims and desires. It was not so unlike the small magics she already possessed. She would prove to Her that she would be more useful alive than a permanent member of Her games.

The Captain seemed to think the same.

“This is a nice little place you’ve got set up. Cute, cozy, warm…” a familiar voice said as the back door was pushed open. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as a man with large wings stepped out of the pantry, “...just like it’s owner.”

“Eons of not seeing each other and that’s the first thing you say to me?” the woman stammered, her cheeks flushing a bright red. She quickly turned her gaze back to her potions, setting the mixture aside and picking up a knife to chop some fresh ginger. “Screw you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

The screech that followed deafened the neighbors she didn’t have.

“You’re so easy to mess with, you know,” the man said with a chuckle, giving her a small pat on the head. “You don’t seem surprised to see me.”

“No, I’m absolutely shocked. It’s not like everyone and their mother heard that scream or anything,” the woman said with a shrug, dumping the cut ginger into a small bubbling cauldron. Picking up the mortar and pestle, she scooped out three large spoonfuls of the mixture. There was a flash and the murky liquid was smoother than glass and just as clear. “So, how did you find me?”

“Well, there’s not very many witches left in the world these days. The others are a bit more difficult, but then again, that’s your job,” he said with a slight smile. He crossed the kitchen in a single stride, raising an eyebrow towards the cauldron. “Remind me what else you need?”

“The knife,” she said, holding out her hand. With a small flourish, he pulled the ethereal dagger out of his pocket and placed it in her open palm. Taking her ring finger, she pricked it on the dagger and slowly drew out a thin stream of blood, letting it curl and wrap around the blade in a spiral. With a quick jerk of her hand, she sliced the stream free and let it fall. The blood snaked down the blade and hit the strange mixture, pooling into little red droplets along the surface. There was nothing. Then…the image of a forest they both knew all too well.

“Perfect,” he said with a smile, going to the door and holding it open. She obliged, stepping out into the cloudy night and looking back on the little shop. And then they were gone, store and all, leaving only the same strange metallic smell to float along the winds.

#fanfiction #internet remix #discord murder party #the followers