#seventh son brewing

[scoop16]

Seventh Son Brewing ‘Crumblin’ Erb’ DIPA, 8.2% abv at The Barrel and Bottle inside the North Market, Columbus, OH

#beer #dipa #seventh son brewing #columbus ohio #outkast

[gffa]

Okay, so it was a month since my last BATFAMILY fic recs set, but in my defense a) huge life changes and b) I did a quick count up of how many recs I had built up and it was literally well over a million words. A million words! In one recs set! And this is like the seventh one of these that I've done! And I still have at least a thousand fics on my reader that I haven't started! Because this fandom has seriously not just consumed my brain, but given me absolutely amazing stuff to read that scratches all the itches I desperately have--well, okay, scratches the itch I have for my Dick Grayson Problem, but same thing.

I've really needed some escapism lately and being able to laugh or cry or just sink into a nice, long novella or even novel-length fic has really been a godsend has done a lot to soothe me and help me process feelings that sometimes otherwise can feel too overwhelming to deal with. All while also giving me the exploration of issues or decompression time with the characters' issues that the canon itself doesn't have the space for. So, I hope this list can give others something to read in the way it has given me so much that I've loved and brought me joy or emotional catharsis, because fandom has been really incredible about Bringing The Good Stuff and I want to repay the favor!

BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I'M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ The Halfway Point by Sugarcookie222, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 5k     After a miscommunication with Bruce, a 13-year-old Dick runs away. He makes it as far as a diner in a nearby state. Bruce had left to finalize the adoption papers but clearly needs to work on his communication skills. He calls Superman in a panic to help him find Dick.

✦ be safe, they said (be good) by deargalileo, bruce & dick & alfred, 4k     there's a tree in the wayne's backyard. a very specific tree, one that seems to attract daring children like bees to honey. unfortunately for the children, it is not a tree that is suited for climbing. fortunately for the children, they have fathers who are there to stitch them up.

✦ a haunted ballroom by lothIoriens, bruce & dick & alfred, 11.9k wip     When Dick stumbles across the ghosts of Wayne Manor dancing the night away in an abandoned wing of the house, he thinks that, finally, something might be normal again. But the ghosts are nervous, and he doesn't know why. Something is brewing underneath the surface of Wayne Manor, and it's up to Dick to find out what it is—and it's up to Bruce to make sure nothing happens to his charge in the meantime.

✦ Straight On Til Morning by audreycritter, bruce & dick, 1.2k     Bruce wakes Dick up on a school night to show him the sky. It dredges up memories for Dick, and it would be a disaster, except it’s Bruce. And Bruce understands.

✦ (More) Pressing Matters by Syl, bruce & dick, 39.2k     Dick Grayson arrives at Wayne Manor, a cold empty place, shortly after his parents' murder: A re-telling of the Boy Wonder's well-known origin story.

✦ First Action Hero by Goldmonger, bruce & dick & clark & cast, 3.5k     “Jerkwads,” Dick said darkly, taking Clark’s hand. He looked up at him then, dressed smartly in a black suit and tie, and wearing converses with Sonic the Hedgehog on them. “You okay, Uncle Clark?”

✦ Lil Birdy Wants to Fly by lil_taair, bruce & dick, 3.8k     Bruce would have usually appreciated the cheeky smile that was directed at him if his son wasn’t 25 fucking feet off the ground

✦ World's Finest: Fortress of Friendship by WingFeathers, bruce & dick & clark & diana, 6.9k     Finally, Dick talks Bruce into letting him see the Fortress of Solitude – provided that Dick stay safe and out of the way while the Trinity discusses some Secret Important Business about a certain young Amazon. Clark promises that the Fortress will be safe, but is that a promise he can make?

✦ Stolen Son by springfox (dallystrings), bruce & dick & jim, 8.6k     Dick is excited to visit an American mall for the first time, and Bruce struggles to understand the difference between 'guardian' and 'dad'.

✦ Comfort Food by motleyfam, bruce & dick, ~1k     Dick struggles to find his appetite in the aftermath of his parents’ deaths.

✦ The meaning of justice by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & babs & cast, 4.6k     As Bruce drives toward Gotham Academy, he tries to imagine all the possible reasons for the principal to call him. He has a lot of imagination. Especially when it comes to bad things happening to Dick. Still, his ward being a suspect for attempted murder hadn’t been on his list.

✦ The Question Game by Santana2, dick & bruce, 1.3k     Basketball can be a very enlightening game if you play it right. Little expansion on Robin's part in Downtime

✦ Cat's Eat Birds by Nightwing_DC_2112, dick & bruce & selina & cast, 12k     After a run in with the Scarecrow Robin is separated from Batman fighting off the effects of Crane's Fear Toxin when an unlikely ally steps in to prevent him getting into further trouble.

✦ World's Finest Mini Issue: Happy Birthday by WingFeathers, bruce & dick (& minor clark/bruce & alfred), 1.8k     Bruce hoped for an emergency to get him out of his birthday party. He just didn’t want Dick to be the one in need of help. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Truth Serum is the Worst by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce, 3.1k     Batman gets dosed with a truth serum and unexpectedly spends most of the time talking about how desperately he loves his children, how awesome they are, and how he wishes he was better at being a father.

✦ Holy Time Travel Fuckery, Batmen by That_One_Curly_Haired_Fangirl, dick & bruce, 4.4k     Batman is dead, and Dick has reluctantly taken up the mantle. So then why are there four Batmen, all clearly Bruce, standing in front of him on this rooftop?

✦ The Waking World by Fairy527, dick & bruce, 2.2k     This isn’t the first time Dick has gone to Bruce after a nightmare. However, this is the first time his nightmare has involved Bruce's murder at his own hands, and it doesn't settle well.

✦ More Alike Than You'll Ever Admit coffeeandchocolate, dick & bruce, 1.2k     Dick Grayson has always been there alongside Batman. So if no one else is going to acknowledge that his first year wearing the cowl was harder, well, he's just going to have to do it himself. After Bruce returns from being lost in time, he and his eldest argue.

✦ Almost, Nearly by CKBookish, dick & bruce & jason & cast, 8.1k     Dick was just supposed to go with him to lunch. He wasn't supposed to get shot. He wasn't supposed to be bleeding out in the pouring rain on the steps of Wayne Enterprises. But then Bruce hadn't expected that sniper and he had seen it far to late. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Behind Granite and Lime by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & jason & tim & barbara & cass, 14.5k wip     Cassandra had noticed. Of course, she noticed. That was the problem, she couldn’t turn it off. She always had to see, always had to know. So she knew when Dick came back from his mission that something was wrong. Or something is off with Dick. Hopefully, it doesn't have anything to do with those murders.

✦ Soup's On by HoodEx, dick & donna, 2k     Taking care of Dick never feels like a burden, it feels like an instinct. And Donna's really good at following her instincts.

✦ to dream away a sleepless night by waffle-wonder (cosmic_croissant), dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & stephanie & duke, 2.7k     Dick was fine. He was fine. Sure, he was having a little trouble focusing on unlocking his apartment door, but that didn’t mean anything. Or- Dick is exhausted. His family catches him when he falls.

✦ Temporary by daringyounggrayson, bruce & dick & alfred & cast, 14.8k     The double homicide at Haly’s Circus is not Bruce’s first case involving a child, and while there's no overt indication that Bruce should react differently to this case, he supposes that his previous cases did not involve the witness known as Dick Grayson. On the surface, the Grayson case seems like any other gang case, but the more time Bruce spends with the boy, the more he begins to doubt his own instincts.

✦ To the Moving and the Strange by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & bruce & alfred & tim & cast, 6k     Thankfully, Alfred tips his head in acknowledgement. “I do,” he agrees. “I remember a great many things. But I have forgotten things too, and I expect as time goes on, more of them will slip away from me, and it’s entirely possible that I won’t even notice they’re gone. My memories of them will simply be… less.” Dick looks at him, studying the lines of his weathered face. “Does that ever make you feel like... like if you loved them more, you’d remember them?”

✦ better luck nest time by ScarlettSwordMoon, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke & cast, 47k wip     Feeling as if Dick’s family does not appreciate him enough, an alternate Earth version of Babs turns Dick into a bird. Now each member of the Batfamily must confess something to him if they ever want to see Dick as a human again. AKA The tale of a family and their birb.

✦ deep roots (are not reached by the frost) by fanfictiongreenirises, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & cast, de-aged!dick, 85.2k wip     Dick gets reverted to a younger self after being kidnapped on during a case. But this is far from a routine de-aging.

✦ Bludhaven Police Department by Lady_of_Lorule, bruce & dick & jason & tim & barbara & amy & donna & wally & cast, 31.1k     Sgt. Amy Rohrbach learns that her partner, rookie cop Dick Grayson, is not what he seems. Or how Amy finds out that Dick Grayson is the heir to the entire Wayne fortune, the vigilante Nightwing, the leader of the Titans, and meets some of the Batfam and the Titans along the way. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I'M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Too Many Walls and Not Enough Bridges by CamsthiSky, dick & damian, 3.7k     There's something bothering Damian. Dick's determined to help Damian feel comfortable enough to share it.

✦ All The Small Things by Geeves, dick & damian & bruce & cast, 20.1k     After Bruce's return to the Bat, Dick and Damian have to deal with just being brothers, but things are just a bit too messy to be that easy BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Do-over by mx_chrx99, dick & jason & todd & damian & steph, 6.2k     Jason never really got to do the "family vacation" thing. Neither did Tim, Steph, or Damian. Dick did, but that was ages ago. Now's their chance to make up for lost time.

✦ pick up off the floor by deargalileo, dick & jason & bruce, 3k     there was a lump on Bruce's office floor. a Dickwing shaped lump.

✦ the trials and tribulations of fatherhood by InkpotSprite, bruce & dick & jason & tim, 2k     Dick, Jason and Tim compete to see who was the worst child. The answer surprises them all. On an unrelated note, Bruce is wondering if adoptions are a lifetime deal, or if they can be undone.

✦ A Time To Reflect by Experimental_Muse, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & duke & alfred, time travel, 14.5k     Bruce finds himself stuck in the past, and while waiting for the league to pick him up, struggles to get along with his past self. Plus being in a practically empty manor is a bigger adjustment than he'd like to admit. BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST THINK BRUCE AND DIANA SHOULD KISS IT OUT: ✦ One equal temper of heroic hearts by victoria_p (musesfool), bruce/diana, nsfw, 1.5k     Bruce and Diana reconcile at Nanda Parbat.

✦ Thanksgiving at the Kents by starknjarvis, bruce/diana & cast, 8.9k     Clark convinces Diana to come to the farm for Thanksgiving, and Diana finally gets the chance to meet Bruce's kids. There are far more of them than she had expected.

✦ Escape Artistry by David Hines (hradzka), bruce/diana & cast, 24.2k     Wonder Woman is eager to learn new things. Batman, less so. Primarily JL animated continuity; some comic elements from as far back as the Golden Age. Complete. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE'S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Will you die for (marry) me? by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & cassie & bart & cast, 7.8k     Tim sacrifices himself on a mission and lives. Conner hates that. They struggle through the aftermath.

✦ A Saturday Evening by malcyon, tim/kon & clark/lois & jonathan kent/martha kent & kara, 13.8k     Kon invites Tim over for dinner. Tim's not sure if he should have accepted that invitation.

✦ Sending all my love to you by Paintedqueen, tim/kon, 10.9k wip     Conner and Tim get blasted into New Earth where they meet an old friend.

✦ Composed of Us by starlikeknight, tim/kon & bruce & dick & cast, 37.1k wip     Or, a spiralling Tim clones a baby without thinking about the consequences. And there are many, many consequences. BATFAM FIC RECS - I SAY THIS IS A BATFAM REC LIST BUT SOMETIMES YOU JUST GOTTA SHOVE THOSE ASSHOLES OUT OF THE WAY AND READ SOME SUPERFIC: ✦ All these things (that I'll never know) by Paintedqueen, conner & clark & kara & jonathan & implied tim/kon & cast, 12.7k     Kon-El's journey on what it means to be Kryptonian.

✦ birthday bash by yeeyee123, conner & clark & jon & tim/kon, 11.8k     Kon’s pumped that Clark has brought him in to help put together Jon’s 8th birthday party. No really, he is! Just don’t ask him directly about it, or he may need to go leave the room and take a breather. Inhaling helium gas from all those balloons isn’t good for you, you know?

✦ Catching Icarus by Fantasyfire, conner & clark & justice league, 24.8k wip     A bad encounter with magic banishes Superboy into another world. Stranded, the Kryptonian clone must deal with a whole new league and a much different Superman.

✦ Nobody's Child by Kizmet, clark & conner & lois & ma kent & pa kent & cast, 18k     Superboy is deaged. While Young Justice looks for a cure Batman sticks Clark Kent with babysitting duties. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT'S WHAT I'M HERE FOR: ✦ Adeamus by miss_aphelion, bruce & dick & stephanie & damian & jason & tim & clark & cast, 32k     I'll always be there to catch you, Bruce had promised him once. Dick would like to believe it hadn’t been meant as a threat at the time. (or; Bruce takes over Gotham to keep his sons safe, but he’s already trained Dick too well to always protect others first)

✦ Gorgon’s eyes by Fleur_de_Violette, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, 9k     Dick will give time to his family. He’s just came back as Nightwing after being undercover in Spyral; he understands that they won’t forgive him immediately. Except, when an encounter with neurotoxin leaves him completely paralyzed, he has no choice but to rely on them.

✦ bad signal by prismatical, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & cast, 38.4k     The rescue mission went well. Nightwing is safe. Everything should be alright. Right?

✦ And The Crown Will Sing by ScarlettSwordMoon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, read the tags, 84.7k wip     After an encounter with alien technology, Bruce re-evaluates some previously held ideals. Gotham doesn’t need a Knight, she needs a King. Bruce will do whatever it takes to secure his rightful place as ruler of Gotham. He will do whatever it takes to keep his sons by his side. Even if it means breaking them in first. [Dark Bruce Wayne, eventual Dark Batfam]

✦ borderline by TheResurrectionist, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph, 22.7k wip     A mysterious force connects the Batfamily's minds together.

✦ Parting is all we Know of Heaven by Sword_Kallya, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & amy, suicidal ideation, 11.9k     Three months after Batman returns from the timestream, Dick Grayson has disappeared.

✦ Behind Granite and Lime by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & cast, read the tags, 18k wip     Cassandra had noticed. Of course, she noticed. That was the problem, she couldn’t turn it off. She always had to see, always had to know. So she knew when Dick came back from his mission that something was wrong. Or something is off with Dick. Hopefully, it doesn't have anything to do with those murders.

✦ A Little Out of the Ordinary by dizarys, tim & dick & conner & slade & cast, 1.5k     A boot scraped against stone at the same time pain seared through Tim’s chest, radiating from one sharp, jabbing point. With a gasping wheeze, he tried to grab at it. But his arms refused to move.

✦ Override Two: Family Protocol by zombiesbecrazy, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & cast, talon!dick, 78.3k     When faced with an impossible and inescapable situation, Dick does the only thing left that he can do to save his family. Surrender himself to the Court of Owls to become their Talon in exchange for their lives.

✦ Weekend Commute by CKBookish, bruce & dick & jason & tim & donna & wally & cast, 7.4k     Dick Grayson makes his way home during the first snow fall of the year, when he finds himself confused and cold, miles from home.

✦ What These Hands Have Done by WinterSky101, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred & cast, 14k     Dick is mind controlled into attacking his family. Unsurprisingly, he takes the whole thing very badly.

✦ birdsong by ScarlettSwordMoon, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & steph & cast, 22.7k     After getting a face full of Scarecrow’s newest toxin, Dick isn’t haunted by his typical nightmares. No. This one has little green pixie boots. AKA Batman: Ego but make it Robin.

✦ New Krypton by Hawkstout, dick & clark & bruce & cast, read the tags, 15.9k wip     Robin is captured by the Kryptonians and put under the care of Kal-El, the man he has known as Superman. Kal-El wants to do his best for Robin and keep the boy safe and healthy. He's fond of him. They were friends once. He hopes that once Robin understands the invasion of his home is for the best that he will grow to see him as a guardian, maybe even as a father. But Robin doesn't need another father. He needs a way to escape.

✦ i was not born to drown by daringyounggrayson, bruce & dick & tim & damian & donna & wally & roy & cast, 25.2k     Or: After getting shot by Doctor Hurt, Dick develops chronic migraines.

✦ Running Headlong into My Arms by gleesquid, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred & cast (& some minor pairings), 54.2k     Bruce doesn’t like to credit one thing for saving his life, but if he did, it would be Haly’s Circus that Friday night in September, just as summer was beginning to die. (He'll always be a sucker for kids with sad eyes, no parents, and more fight than the world knows what to do with.) Or: in a universe where superheroes don't exist, Bruce Wayne finds his family.

✦ Waking In The Night Light by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass, 7.1k     Aside from the soft pitter-pattering of rain against the window, it’s quiet in the room. Tranquil, Bruce thinks. Or at least, as tranquil as a hospital room can get. BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT'LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ take these broken wings and learn to fly by fishingclocks, dick & bruce & alfred, 49.2k wip     or, How Dick Grayson Burrowed His Way Inextricably into the Heart of Bruce Wayne

✦ A Bat and his Birds by SalParadiseLost, bruce & dick & jason & tim, 3.1k     Bruce Wayne adopts a child on impulse... and then another... and then another. He doesn't know what he's doing, but somehow it doesn't end up too bad except for the fact that his kids think he's a vampire.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #conner kent #clark kent #timkon #wonderbat #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 10. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.8k (oh my)

Warnings: Fluff, SMUT, PIV, Vibrator fun

Summary: McLaggen gets introduced to the muggle world.

A/N: This has been through four drafts with two different storylines until I settled on this. I'm not happy with the self-insert this has become but the smut went too hard so had to just get it posted. Also 'Hen' is a little Scottish term of endearment for a young woman and Grammarly hated it LMAO.

Masterlist

Tag list: @pretendfan, @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark

Chapter 10: Electricity

Dumbledore’s death brought an immediate feeling of mourning into the castle. The loss itself was tragic in its own right - a respected Headmaster who you liked (though admittedly had never even spoken to directly) but the circumstances surrounding his murder and the intrusion of Death Eaters at Hogwarts were abhorrent. Nobody could quite come to grips with what had happened during the night.

Seventh-year graduation was cancelled. The fifth-year O.W.Ls were postponed. Padma Patil and her sister Parvati had been escorted from Hogwarts by their parents before breakfast. By lunch, Marietta’s mother had literally dragged her from the castle, barely giving you and Cho time to bid her a painful goodbye on the front steps, as you both clutched her hands, promising to write to her and meet up soon.

A few days before Dumbledore’s funeral, McLaggen had suggested, quite rightly, that your Quidditch ban would be the least of Professor McGonagall’s worries at the moment, and so the two of you spent the morning hovering in front of the goalposts, taking turns shooting penalties at each other and trying to take your mind off of what should have been a joyous end of term.

“Right,” says McLaggen, catching the Quaffle in the stomach with a grunt. “Your turn.”

As the morning sun sits high behind him, his dark blonde hair catches the bright light and you notice it looks more tousled than usual -  like he’s been running his hands through it the way you’ve seen him do when he’s brewing a particularly complicated potion in class.

You fly toward the goal and do an about-turn as he lines up to take a shot.

“Who’s that watching us? Ministry, do you reckon?” You nod at two figures at the edge of the Quidditch pitch. 

McLaggen whips around to look at the spectators and throws his head back with a groan. “Well, one of them is. They’re my parents.”

There are only two reasons why they’d be here.

McLaggen’s dad was high up in the Department for Magical Law Enforcement - maybe he was here as part of the Ministry’s preparations for the funeral.

Or maybe, like Mairetta’s mum, they were coming to force him to go back home.

Your stomach twists with nerves. You hadn’t expected to be meeting McLaggen’s parents today. You would have worn something nicer, you think as your feet touch the ground. Feeling slightly flustered, you attempt to discreetly spit your gumshield into your gloves. He grins as you do your best to smooth out your wind-swept ponytail. “You look fine - don’t worry.”

That’s easy for him to say. You’re sure they’ve seen him plenty of times in his Keeper’s gear. But it’s hardly the first impression you wanted to make. 

You walk side by side, carrying your brooms over to his parents at the side of the pitch. 

Mr McLaggen, in his tailored robes, is practically the double of his son except for the fact that he’s older, greyer and has a markedly more serious demeanour than Cormac. His lined face is handsome but marred with a stony expression.

The woman standing next to him is easily the most timelessly beautiful witch you’ve ever seen. She’s tall too, blonde and has - there’s no other way to put it - an expensive aura. The way her face glows and how she holds both her hands over her heart when she sees McLaggen means she could only be his mother.

“Dad,” says McLaggen, grasping his father’s extended hand and shaking it.

Ooh, formal.

“This is-”

He’s cut off when his mother pushes past him to wrap her arms around you and squeeze you tightly. 

“We know! We know!” She squeals, hugging you. She steps back with her hands still placed on each of your arms. “Gosh, you’re even prettier than the pictures.”

“The pictures?” You glance sideways at McLaggen who looks profoundly embarrassed by the way his mother coos at you.

“Yes! Those charming muggle photographs of the two of you. Cormac has sent us so many. You know, I might make an album.”

“Mum!” hisses McLaggen and she releases you to hug him next and plant a kiss on his cheek, covering him in red lipstick that she has to wipe off. He grumbles and flushes almost as deeply as the smudged lipstick being rubbed from his cheek.

Mr McLaggen shakes your hand and gives you a stiff nod without returning the smile you give him.

“Cormac, darling. We’ve come to take you home,” says Mrs McLaggen, finally ceasing her fawning over him. 

“I’m of age, I don’t need you to escort me home.”

“Of course, you don’t, sweetheart,” she waves a hand dismissively and turns to you. “Are your parents coming to get you soon?”

“They can’t  - they’re muggles,” you say and you can’t help but notice the way Mr McLaggen avoids your gaze. “I’m getting the train home after the funeral.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” says McLaggen plainly.

His parents stare at you. Mr McLaggen looks formidable but Mrs McLaggen just looks anxious - you can tell the idea of him being here at Hogwarts is making her worried sick.

“Go with them. I’ll go home in a few days. And you’re still gonna visit me soon, right?”

“Gregor…” starts Mrs McLaggen, looking pleadingly at her husband. 

“Eleanor, I warned you - ”

“Come and stay with us,” she addresses you before he can finish and your eyes widen in surprise. Mr McLaggen sighs resignedly and you have the distinct feeling that despite his appearance, it’s Mrs McLaggen who runs the show. “I mean for goodness sake, there were Death Eaters at Hogwarts. It’s not safe.”

“I’d love to, I really would. But I need to see my parents.” You look at McLaggen. 

“Mum, we need to talk about it. Look, we’re going to go and get changed out of our Quidditch stuff. I’ll meet you in the Entrance Hall in a bit, yeah?”

“Alright, darling.” She touches his cheek fondly much to his indignation. “Your father and I will go for a walk and reminisce.” For a split second, you think you catch Cormac’s dad giving her a hint of a smirk that makes him so resemble his son, before following her off the pitch.

“Wow…” You say, watching them walk off towards the castle grounds.

“I know, she’s a bit much.” He gives you an edgy look as he bends down to pick up both of your brooms.

“I was talking about your dad. He’s a total DILF. I see where you get it from.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“And your mum! She adores you, it’s so sweet!”

“Alright, alright. That’s enough,” laughs McLaggen, shaking his head as the two of you walk back up the gravel path towards the castle. “What do you think though?”

“Listen, you should go with them. Your mum is obviously worried about you. Cho is staying here so I’ll be fine.”

“What are you and Cho going to do if the Death Eaters come again?”

“What are you going to do if they come again?”

“Well, that’s my point. If you’re here and I’m not then I can’t protect you.”

“We slept through the whole thing last time.” It was true - by the time you emerged from your common with the rest of Ravenclaw Tower, Dumbledore was already dead and Snape had fled from the scene. “Besides, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Do a Shield Charm,” he says, stopping dead in his tracks as you reach the courtyard.

You bite your lip. “What, right now?”

“Yes, right now. Prove it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, give me a sec - ”

He spins you to face him. “That’s the point. You don’t have a second to think. You need to react quickly - and not out of anger either. We already know you can do that at least.”

You feel slightly awkward as you look down at the singed tail of his broom.

“I don’t need a Shield Charm. I’m sure I could flirt my way out of any sticky situation,” you say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, hoping to change the subject.

He holds your shoulders firmly, dropping his broom to the stone floor with a clatter. “Be serious for two minutes.” His stern expression makes him look so strikingly like his dad. You’ve never been intimidated by McLaggen the way that other people are but you can definitely why they would be now. 

Although you still don’t feel intimidated. 

Instead, as soon as you try to take him seriously you feel yourself faltering. Against your will, you feel a little lump in your throat. “Cormac, I don’t want to think about it. I just want to finish school and go home and have everything be… be normal.” 

“I know. But it’s not… it’s not normal any more.” He pulls you into a long hug and you press your face into his soft jumper, inhaling the comforting amber scent of his aftershave. “Come back with me. Please?” He murmurs with his chin resting on your head.

“I can’t. I need to see my mum and dad.” 

“Then promise me you’ll at least practise Shield Charms while I’m gone.”

You allow yourself a small smile. “And you’re still coming back to Scotland to see me, right?”

“Only if you promise to visit me too. If you can put up with that,” he says, before turning quickly to make sure his mother hasn’t crept up behind him.

“I can put up with that as long as you’ll be okay with my dad forcing football down your throat.”

McLaggen puts his arm around your shoulder as you walk in the direction of Gryffindor Tower and confirm your summer plans. You’ll both placate your respective parents, then McLaggen will visit you for two weeks, you’ll go to the Holyhead Harpies tryouts and then visit his family at his house. 

“And then what?” asks McLaggen, stopping outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. You don’t usually walk him this far but right now you want to prolong his departure as much as you can.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re not gonna stay with our parents just visiting each other forever, are we?”

Oh.

“Things have been so mad with exams, I’ve never had the chance to think about it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah… what, have you thought about us… like living together?”

“I think about it all the time.”

You feel yourself melting into a puddle. 

“So you’d move to Wales with me if I make the Holyhead Harpies team?”

“If you want me to? We have plenty of time to decide - I’m not starting work at the Ministry with my dad until the end of the summer”

You chew your lip when he mentions his dad.

“You’re definitely still going to come, right?” you blurt, finally releasing the worry in the pit of your stomach since his parents arrived. “Even if something… even if something bad happens?”

“There’s nothing that could happen that would stop me from seeing you.”

“Even if your dad tells you he doesn’t want you to?”

“What makes you think he wouldn’t want me to?” 

You raise your eyebrows - you know why McLaggen’s dad wouldn’t look at you. 

“It’s not like that. Anyway I don’t care if he doesn’t want me to, whats he gonna do? Stop me?”

You take a deep breath. “Well, if something does happen, just know that I love you.”

“I love you too. And I will see you next week.”

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

After the funeral, you and Cho got the Hogwarts Express back to London. It was an emotional last train journey - the two of you ended up in tears more than once. It should have been a final rite of passage. 

Not just a journey for two. 

You wistfully imagine another ending, in a different lifetime - where your friends all shared a compartment as the Scottish countryside became less dense, making your way across the border and down to London. You’d laugh, chat excitedly about your Holyhead Harpies tryouts, buy some snacks from the trolley witch and play exploding snap. 

Instead, you and Cho held hands across the compartment and mourned the end of an era. When it was finally time to part ways with Cho at the station, out loud you promised you’d see each other soon.

But inside you wondered if you’d ever see her again. 

You apparate home from King’s Cross and when you step into the muggle world it’s like travelling to another dimension. The grief, the loss, and the mourning of your childhood are easy to bury when your dad meets you with open arms and asks if you had had a fun year at school. 

You lie. 

You don’t break the news about the state of the wizarding world. You shove down all your fears about what Voldemort’s return and Dumbledore’s death mean for muggles.

But you do, at the very least, pluck up the courage to tell him that not only do you have a boyfriend who you’ve invited to visit but that he’s totally clueless about everything to do with the world you came from.

“What do you mean he doesn’t know football?” Grumbles your dad, dragging your trunk up the stairs to your parents’ little two-bedroom flat while you carry your owl in her cage and your broom. As usual, he refuses to let you help him by using magic.

“They don’t watch football in the wizarding world, Dad.”

“What did you say his name was again? McLaggen? Where in Scotland is he from?”

“Er, Surrey.”

“What?!” He stops on the landing of the close to hold onto the railing and catch his breath.

“He’s English.”

“With a name like McLaggen?”

You nod. You were braced for this reaction.

“Och, for fuck sake. He’s English and he doesn’t even watch the Premier League?” You shake your head and he continues heaving the trunk. “I mean I could manage if he was at least an Arsenal fan but, Christ…”

“He’s into sports. I mean, we both play Quidditch,” you say, putting your key in the door and letting him inside. 

“Is he any good?”

“Yeah, pretty good. He’s a Keeper too.”

“Not as good as you, though?”

“Never.”

“That’s my lass. You inherited your talent from the best.”

You laugh. Your dad coaches a lower-division football team and was a Goalkeeper himself in his youth. His insistence that you played football growing up is probably why you excelled at Quidditch so quickly. 

Your mum greets you in the hallway with a hug.

“And has she told you about the English boyfriend who’s coming to visit?” Your dad calls to her and you sigh.

You count down the days until McLaggen is finally due to apparate on the spare bit of ground behind your flat. Thinking that there would be a lot in the muggle world for him to take in, you timed his arrival for when your parents weren’t home so you could explain everything.

You sit on a crumbling red brick wall at the edge of the patchy grassy field behind your building, looking at your Casio watch - it works again now that you’re outside the magical boundaries of Hogwarts. Right on cue at noon, you hear a shot, like a car backfiring and McLaggen appears - broom in hand and a backpack over his shoulders.

“Made it without splinching yourself then?” 

“I dunno, are both my eyebrows still there?” He touches them with a thumb and forefinger. It’s been hardly any time at all since you saw him last but you’ve missed that stupid face.

You leap off the wall to hug him and he picks you up with ease, scooping you up with his free arm and kissing your cheek when you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Did you get taller?” You ask, stumbling when he finally puts you down.

“In a week? Unlikely.”

You offer to carry his broom but instead, McLaggen takes your hand and you walk around the side of the building to the front door. He does a double take when you use your electronic key fob to release the main door and it buzzes to let you in.

“That’s… electricity right?”

“Well remembered. Keep that in mind if there’s anything you don’t understand. It’s probably just electricity.”

“Got it.”

“My mum and dad are both at work so they won’t be back til tonight.” His broad shoulders relax slightly as he follows you up the four flights of stairs and you unlock the door to the flat with a set of keys. “I thought it would give me time to show you how some of this muggle stuff works.” You shut the door behind you and lead him down the hall.

“This is me,” you say opening your bedroom door. 

He looks stunned when he steps through the threshold to your bedroom.

“I know. It’s tiny but I’m hardly ever here, I suppose.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… really pink.”

You laugh, looking at your fuchsia walls adorned with posters of bands, the Holyhead Harpies and the football team you follow. It’s probably pretty overwhelming if you’re not used to it.

“Surprised? You ask, sitting down on your double bed that’s pushed up against the wall of your little bedroom. “Just dump your stuff anywhere by the way.”

“I was picturing blue. For obvious reasons.” He shrugs his bag off of his shoulder, not really noticing where it falls as he stands at your wall, looking closely at your peeling No Doubt poster. “It’s kind of creepy how their eyes follow you around even though they don’t move.”

“Hey, don’t call Gwen Stefani creepy in this house.”

“Does she play football?”

“Not that I know of. She’s in a muggle band. American. Most of these guys are,” you say as he looks around your room. You lean back on your elbows. “I mean, you know NSYNC, right?”

He looks at your other posters and shakes his head.

“Come off it - even Marietta knows NSYNC.”

“I’ve never heard any muggle music.”

“You’re missing out. Better than The Weird Sisters. Definitely better than Celestina Warbeck.”

“Don’t say that in front of my mum… hey, at least there’s one thing I recognise.” He wanders over to your open bedroom window where your little grey barn owl perches on the window ledge. He extends his hand to greet her. She looks at it disdainfully, turns and spreads her wings to fly off into the distance. You think she’s annoyed that you haven’t been writing to him.

“I hope that’s not a bad omen for meeting your family.”

It gives you a fuzzy feeling in your chest, seeing him in your room like this. This time last summer you’d never have thought Cormac McLaggen would be in your bedroom. Or that you’d actually want him to be here. You watch him as McLaggen looks at the photos stuck to your dressing table mirror interestedly. Polaroids of you and him, some group photos of you, Cho and Marietta, and a few of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. 

“I can bring those with me to yours, if you want? You know, for your mum’s album…”

“Oh, haha,” he says sarcastically, joining you on the bed. “There’s a picture missing though...” He scans the room before reaching over to your bedside table to open the drawer. You lurch forward and try to slam it shut.

“Don’t look in my drawers!”

“Is that picture of me in there?” 

That stupid trademark arrogant smile makes you blush furiously.

“No!” You lie, crawling over his lap to get between him and the table.

“It is!” He says with a mock gasp. “Come on, let me see!” You struggle but he dodges your grasp and opens the drawer. “I knew it!”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble as he picks out the Polaroid before you can slam it shut.

“My shoulders look great,” he smirks, admiring himself in the photo. It’s one you took at the Seventh Year party, of him at the edge of the pool, drinking a beer. 

His shoulders do look great. 

So does the rest of him. 

It’s why you keep it in your bedside drawer.

“You should have it if you like it so much.”

“Nah, I like that you like it.” He looks round to see you pursing your lips. “Alright! I’ll put it back-”

“No, wait!”

He opens the drawer again and pauses.

Shit.

“What is this?”

He’s spotted what you didn’t want him to see in the first place. A small, silicone bullet vibrator. You’re hoping he’ll have no idea what it’s for.

He holds the picture in one hand and the vibrator in the other, looking between them.

“Wait… does this go in…?” He makes a juvenile stabbing motion.

“It’s none of your business where it goes.” Your cheeks feel red hot. “Put it back.”

“You’re blushing - it does!” His face lights up with glee. 

“It does not.”

“It’s so small. No wonder you were so impressed.” 

“I told you it doesn’t go inside of me. It - ugh.” You sigh. “I hold it against me.”

“You just hold it? Does that - I mean, how does that feel good?”

You extend your palm and he drops it in your hand. It starts vibrating when you press the button at the bottom. 

His eyes go wide. “And how- ?” You raise an eyebrow. “Right, sorry, electricity.”

You turn it off and reach over him to put it back but he grabs your wrist.

“Cormac -”

“Show me.”

“What?” You look at him and feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s deadly serious.

“Come on, you said I never did it right. Show me how you touch yourself”

“You know I never meant that. I was just pissed off.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t.” The confident look on his face sends a tingle down your spine - he’s always so sure of himself. “But you’re gonna pay for saying that.” Fuck. It makes you wet thinking about how he’s going to make you pay for it. How does he know exactly how to press your buttons? To make you fold like this?

McLaggen puts his picture down and leans in to kiss you. His tongue parts your lips and you welcome it, letting him roll his tongue across yours. You’ve been dying to kiss him like this again since the night in the Prefect’s Bathroom. And now, you finally have him alone.

“I missed you,” you breathe when he moves his lips to kiss your neck. 

You really have. The last time you had sex was over four months ago on Valentine’s Day. And sure, most of your Quidditch practises with him between December and March had ended up under the canvas stands getting hot and heavy - the pair of you fumbling under each other’s robes - but you haven’t even seen each other naked since February. 

“When are your parents back?”

You pull back and look at the watch on your wrist. “Like four hours.”

“Wait what is that?” He asks, looking down at the digital display.

“A watch -” You say, between kisses. “Electricity. I’ll explain later. Just kiss me. Please.”

The fuzzy feeling in your chest spreads down to your abdomen and you pull yourself onto his lap, drawing your leg over his to straddle him. 

Cormac lies back on the bed to rest on your pillows and your mouth follows his. You feel his hands move from your waist to squeeze your backside. His erection presses against you through his jeans as you suck on his bottom lip. When you trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck, you can feel the way his muscles tense as he swallows.

He tugs the hem of your t-shirt up and over your head and you urgently pull his off too. 

Fuck, he looks even better than your picture of him.

Your hands work quickly to undress him and he does the same, his strong hands yanking your jeans and underwear down as you kiss him and run your hands over his bare chest. You climb on top of him again, positioning your hips over his large, flushed cock so that the underside of him is engulfed between your wet lips. 

“Where’s that… thing?” He finds your discarded vibrator on the bed and hands it to you. “C’mon let me see how you use it.”

“What, sitting you you like this?”

“Yeah.” He raises his eyebrow, daring you to do it.

You take it and bite your lip. For some reason, you feel thoroughly embarrassed about touching yourself for him.

“Can’t we just…?” You put his large hands on your hips and grind back, along the thick length of him and feel him twitching between your folds.

“I thought you were gonna show me how all this muggle stuff worked?” Cormac’s eyes drift down your body as he guides your hand clutching the vibrator down to your clit. “I want to start by seeing how you touch yourself when you’re thinking about me.”

“You’re so sure I’m thinking about you?” You tease, switching it on. Fuck. You hold it against yourself and immediately feel your nerve endings light up under the stimulation. 

“I know you do. Maybe not as much as I think about you.”

“You do?” You squirm against the steady vibration on your clit. 

“Every fucking night.” He reaches up to cup your face. His thumb draws across your parted lips and you open your mouth to suck on it. You moan, feeling everything inch of your skin tingling.

His hand drags down your neck to your chest, groping your breast before settling on your hip again. “I - Maybe I think about you too, then,” you whisper, meeting his eyes when his hands move your body, encouraging you to keep moving back and forth. Those green eyes bore into yours - you go weak from the prolonged eye contact. 

“Don’t give me that look, fuck, I can’t take it,” he pleads.

“What look?”

“The same one you gave me when you drank that love potion. Fuck, when you were begging me to take you… you know what it does to me when you beg for me.”

The vibration on your clit and the way his cock pulses underneath you make your vision hazy.

“I’m begging you now, Cormac… please. I want you inside me.”

You tilt forward so that the tip of his cock presses against your slick entrance. Sinking back, you moan as you feel his thick length stretching you, slowly filling you up. Cormac’s tight grip forces your hips to bear down on him and you whine when he sheathes himself fully, hitting deep in your centre.

“You look so fucking pretty like this, baby.”

He watches as you lean back to brace yourself on his thigh with your free hand. You pull your hips up and sink slowly back down on him, feeling him pushing into you. The strong vibrations on your clit and how his cock presses into your G-spot make you start to see stars behind your eyelids. Using your vibrator on its own, thinking about him every night this past week felt good but fuck, you never imagined how it would feel with him here under you, inside you at the same time.

“I know it’s not right but I wanted to fuck you in that shower - so badly,” he says, running his hands up your body to squeeze your tits.

You know it wasn’t right either, but Christ, you wanted him to. Every day you spent with him at school after the seventh-year party when you could kiss him, touch him, but never fuck him made you ache. You found yourself in your dormitory late at night with the curtains of your four-poster drawn, face buried in your pillow and fingers working in your underwear, quietly making yourself cum so the other girls couldn’t hear.

“I would have let you. Shit - I’ll let you fuck me anywhere. In the shower, on the pitch… anywhere you want -” You curse when he pinches your nipples.

“Don’t say that. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

You can imagine him too, alone at night in Gryffindor Tower fucking his own hand thinking about you whimpering against his chest, rubbing your clit and pleading with him to fuck you while every fibre of his being resisted temptation.

You can hear how wet you are over the buzzing from your vibrator - the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy makes you pick up your pace, your walls squeezing around him and the intense vibrations pulsing on your clit as you chase your high. 

“Yeah, that’s it. Keep fucking yourself on my dick.”

That’s exactly what it feels like like you’re getting yourself off for him. You almost forget about his pleasure while you use his thick cock as a means to your end as he watches you riding up and down on him. 

McLaggen stares up at you, mesmerised by the way your face contorts in pleasure - your parted lips and heavy lids painting a picture of uninhibited gratification. He grabs your hips again - hard - just to watch your expression change, to see if he can make your facial muscles scrunch up and cause sweet noises to escape you.

He can.

His thumbs dig careless bruises into your hipbones driving himself deeper into you as you set a frantic rhythm, bouncing on his cock.

“Ah - fuck, Cormac. I’m gonna cum,” you whimper and his thigh tenses under your hand as you bear down on him, feeling white-hot pleasure deep in your core.

“That’s right, make yourself cum for me,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes locked on your body - staring at the way your tits bounce and your hand presses the little buzzing object against your clutch of nerves.

The heat spills over and everything clamps down on him tight as ecstasy erupts burning hot through your body. The white noise of blood rushing in your ears overwhelms you as you cum all over his cock, riding out the wave of pleasure engulfing you.

You toss the vibrator aside and slump over him, pressing your face into the juncture of his shoulder. Your chest finds his and you cling to his broad shoulders as he fucks up into you, manically jerking his hips with a pummelling force that makes you let out adoring whimpers for him, your lips pressed onto his skin.

He wraps his arms around your back, keeping his tight grip on you for leverage. Every thrust make the broken sounds from your lips pitch higher and higher. You’re not sure where your last orgasm stopped and this one is beginning. 

“Fuck, you make such pretty noises when you cum.”

His name leaves your lips over and over and over, in sync with the slamming of his hips into yours. God, he feels good from this angle. Cormac groans through gritted teeth when you say his name, and he responds by jackhammering his cock into you. You stifle your cry by biting down on his neck, not caring whether you’ll leave a bruise or not. Your mind goes blank with pleasure - no thoughts - just your body locking down so tight around him as everything implodes inside you again.

You feel his ragged grunt in your ear as he drives up into your cunt, burying himself so deep that his thighs meet the back of yours as he cums inside you. His grunting turns into low breathy moans that make him sound so wonderfully, so beautifully pathetic as his release coats your insides.

Cormac’s hips come to a halt and he brings his muscular arms around your shoulder blades. His biceps hold you close to his chest in a tight embrace as his cum leaks out of you onto your bedsheets. Post-orgasmic bliss flows between you - you feel the rise and fall of his chest in time with yours. Every inhale and exhale seems to pass between you like the tide rolling over sand. 

Lying here on top of him, you realise your legs are aching from working them so hard. You softly kiss his bitten neck and he pulls out of you so you can climb off of him, rolling onto your back to lie next to him on your pillows and staring at the ceiling, letting your heart rate decrease again.

He turns on his side and props himself up on his elbow to look down at you.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” says Cormac tracing his fingertips across your chest and down the curve of your waist. It tickles pleasantly.

“Naked?” You laugh.

“That too,” he grins. “Just… comfortable. Not sneaking around under the stands or freezing cold on a blanket.”

“For the record, I enjoyed both of those things.” You reach up to cup his handsome face and you feel the scratchy texture of his chin when he kisses your palm. “But you’re right. This is nice. Maybe living with you won’t be that bad.”

“You should bring this,” he says, picking up your vibrator and looking at it interestedly. “Is the other muggle stuff you were going to show me as good as this?”

“That depends… have you ever had vodka?”

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

You and McLaggen sit on your bed listening to music. Your head rests on his lap as you read Quidditch Through The Ages while he flicks through your copy of Rolling Stone, frequently asking questions. 

He lifts his head, listening to Oasis playing on your CD player.

“Is all muggle music just about other people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like are they all just love songs?”

You lower your book to look up at him from his lap. “I’ve never really thought about it. I guess all the good ones are.”

“Hmm.” He flips a page of your magazine nonchalantly. “It’s kind of cheesy.”

“Oh sorry, it’s not extremely cool like wizard music. All your stuff is about goblins and ghouls.”

“It is not.”

“Name a Weird Sisters track that doesn’t have a reference to magical creatures.”

He pauses, stumped.

You hear the front door unlock. “That’ll be my dad home,” you say, without looking up. Your head hits the mattress with a thud as McLaggen springs to his feet and runs a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s fine. He’s nice,” you say, putting your book down.

“Has he ever met one of your boyfriends or girlfriends before?”

“Er, no.”

“It’s different. Trust me.”

There’s a knock at your bedroom door and a pause.

“Come in,” you call.

“Alright, hen?” asks your dad and you nod. He looks at Cormac who’s standing in the middle of the room uncertainly. “You must be McLaggen.”

McLaggen extends his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Mr -”

“Nope, none of that,” says your dad, grasping his hand and releasing it quickly. He insists McLaggen calls him by his first name. “Look, your mum is working late. Do you fancy a kickabout before dinner? Both of you.” He adds to McLaggen.

“Dad -”

“Yeah, I’m up for that,” says McLaggen, slightly too enthusiastically and you roll your eyes. 

God, he’s such a suck-up.

“Right, get your stuff. Let’s go.”

You groan when your dad shuts the door. “You idiot - you’ve got no idea what you’ve just agreed to.”

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

The three of you walk to the deserted park and you pull on your goalkeeper gloves as you approach the rusty old goals.

“Dad, McLaggen’s never even kicked a ball before.”

“Yeah, I have. I’m just usually mid-air, that’s all.”

“It’s a piece of piss,” says your dad, setting himself up to take a penalty as you find your line on the goal. “Plant your left foot, kick with your right, right through your laces.”

Your dad kicks the ball - you misjudge it and he scores as the ball speeds right past your feet into the net.

“How many times have I told you to practice those bottom corners?”

“There’s no ‘bottom corners’ in Quidditch. And that’s what I should be practising right now.”

“That’s not strictly true,” McLaggen pipes up. “The ball can always go in low if the Chaser’s coming from above.”

“Can you stop contradicting me for one second?” You ask, passing the ball back to your dad.

“Big mistake, lad. You can’t argue with her - she’s always right,” laughs your dad and McLaggen smirks.

You narrow your eyes, shooting daggers at them.

“Here.” Your dad passes the ball to McLaggen. “Give it a go.”

He attempts a penalty and you watch the ball soar over the goal and land miles away. You do a quick check for any muggles and pull out your wand.

“Accio ball.” 

It zooms back over to you and you knock it back to McLaggen. He kicks it again and you catch it mid-air.

“Better!”

Your dad looks unimpressed but he and McLaggen continue taking turns trying to score. Your dad gets a few more past you but McLaggen gets zero, occasionally sending the ball so far it needs to be summoned back again.

“Right, I’m burst. One of you go in,” you say, stripping off your gloves.

“Yeah, go on then,” says McLaggen, jogging over and taking them from you. “Can see if it’s as easy as you make it look.” He grins.

“Just wait.”

Your dad lines up to take a penalty but you nudge him out of the way to take the first shot. “Don’t be too hard on him,” you say under your breath and he tuts.

You punt an easy shot McLaggen’s way and he catches it. “I can send it back with my hands if I’m the keeper, right?” He asks.

Your dad nods and McLaggen rolls it with precision so it stops right at his feet. Your dad blinks down at it a few times, clearly surprised by the accuracy.

“Don’t go easy on me this time,” he calls to your dad who pulls his shoulders back, ready for the challenge. 

He kicks it with incredible force into the top corner and McLaggen saves it, catching it in his hands before rolling it back again.

“This is just typical,” you scoff and look at your dad who looks stunned. “He’s good at everything.”

With every shot, your dad seems to perk up. He’s practically beaming when McLaggen dives and manages to knock a shot away with his fingertips.

“This is great!” McLaggen says, getting to his feet with a smile. “Solid ground. Nowhere to fall.”

Your dad has a funny look on his face. 

“You alright?” You ask.

“Yeah…” He clears his throat. “Right, one more or your mum will batter us.”

He shoots, curving the ball towards the goal. Easily his best strike all evening and McLaggen saves it again with ease. He smiles as he runs back over holding the ball.

“Excellent. We should do this again tomorrow,” says McLaggen.

You look at your dad and you think you know what the funny look is. You think he’s in love.

“That was some effort, lad. Are you going pro with Quidditch too?” Your dad asks as you start walking back to the flat, suddenly interested in McLaggen now he knows he can save a ball.

“Ah, no. I’m not as good as your daughter.” He says, actually sounding modest for a change. “I’ve got a job lined up at our Ministry with my dad - Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“What, like in an office?”

McLaggen nods.

“What a waste.”

“Dad, don’t be rude -“

“Och, you know I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that a big strapping lad like yourself was made to be a goalie. If this one wasn’t so bloody intent on moving down south -“ He gives you a stern look. “I’d be trying to get you on my team. Christ, you’re better than the dozy bastard I’ve got in goals and he’s been playing all his life.”

“That’s very kind of you to -“

“Look, there’s nothing kind about it. You’re my daughter's boyfriend and I’ve got no interest in flattering you. You’ve got talent, son.”

“Thanks.”

“I still don’t understand why you can’t just live here and just -  pop! Go to Wales and come back every day.”

“Dad, I’ve told you. You can’t apparate that distance twice a day. It’s dangerous.”

“What about once a week? No chance you could pop up from Surrey every weekend to play football up here?” He asks McLaggen.

“Don’t humour him, McLaggen. Dad, he’s not going to drop everything to be a keeper for your team.”

“Well, you should think about it. You’re only eighteen - plenty of time to go pro. I mean look at her - she learned Quidditch in a couple of years.”

“You’re not seriously trying to get him to become a professional footballer after one kickabout.” 

By the time you get to the flat, you’ve had to stop him from changing the conversation back to convincing you and McLaggen to move to Scotland several times.

“Oh my god,” says your mum when she hears you coming up the stairs and opens the door. “You never told us he was handsome.”

“You didn’t? I’m sure you said that’s my only redeeming quality.” The corners of McLaggens mouth twitch slightly when he sees you roll your eyes. 

This makes your mum laugh - a bit too hard. Your dad doesn’t even seem to notice. You’re surprised he hasn’t started giggling too.

After dinner, most of which was spent with your dad plying McLaggen with beer and telling him all about the inner workings of the Scottish Premiership league table while your mum asked him a million questions and giggled like a schoolgirl, you drag him to your bedroom. 

You shut your door behind you and lean against it with a sigh.

“Sorry about that.” You shake your head. “Somehow that was worse than them not liking you.”

He shrugs. “I keep telling you, I’m extremely loveable.”

“Shut up.” You sit on the bed and toss a cushion at him. “Honestly, I think my dad would like a new a son in law. And my mum. God, I think my mum would quite like a new boyfriend the way she was going on.”

He shrugs. “They’re just being nice. It almost made me forget what things were like back in the wizarding world.”

“How bad is it? I can’t bear to look at The Prophet.”

“It’s getting worse. My dad has been working late and when I do see him, he looks terrible. My mum’s just anxious all the time... I should probably write to them and let her know I’m okay here. Can I use your owl?”

He sits down at your makeup table and writes a quick note to his mum and dad.

“I sort of wish we could just stay here,” he looks up as he folds the parchment.

“What? Like in the muggle world?”

“Yeah, I mean the sex is good, music is decent, football is… actually really good.”

“Sex is good and football is ‘really good’?”

“You know what I mean.”

“You should stay here with my dad. Start a new life as a muggle footballer.” McLaggen gives you a small smile and looks down at the parchment, turning it in his hands. “So what does your dad do at Department for Magical Law Enforcement? Does he like, manage the Aurors or something?”

“No, he writes legislation, lobbies to get it through the Ministry - that kind of thing.”

“And you’re going to be doing that too?” McLaggen nods. “God help us all then. Cormac McLaggen writing the laws that shape the fabric of wizarding society.”

“First thing I’ll be doing is making the use of Incendio punishable by ten years in Azkaban.”

“Hopefully your dad likes me as much as my dad likes you. It would be handy to have someone high up in the Ministry to bust me out when you put me behind bars.”

He laughs which turns into a yawn. “Where am I sleeping, by the way?”

You look at him sceptically. “Er, here?”

“And your parents are alright with that?”

“Yeah?”

“Just to warn you, mine won’t be. They’ll want us in separate rooms.”

“Better make the most of it then,” you smile, pulling your top off and finding your cutest pyjamas in your bedside drawer. You don’t get the chance to put them on before McLaggen’s lips find yours.

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

The next two weeks fly by in a blur - between Quidditch practice in a secluded field away from the outskirts of the city, McLaggen insisting on teaching you defensive spells and your dad dragging you both out to the park every night to play football you feel a lot more prepared for both your Holyhead Harpies tryouts and whatever going back to the wizarding world will bring.

On Saturday morning, as you and McLaggen pack your things getting ready to leave, there’s a knock at your bedroom door.

“Are you decent?” Comes your dad’s voice.

You roll your eyes. “Yes, come in.”

“You feeling ready, hen?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you say, bracingly, holding your broom upright.

He looks at you, glowing with pride. “They’ll be lucky to have you.”

You nod, nerves swirling in the pit of your stomach. Today’s the day.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to come back here after?”

“We promised McLaggen’s parents we’d visit them. I’ll keep in touch though. I’ll send you an owl when I find out if they’re signing me.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ve decided you want a career in Scottish football, after all?”

McLaggen grins. He and your dad have been getting on so well - mostly due to the fact McLaggen’s only been getting better and better at football. “I wish. My dad would kill me if I turned down the ministry job.”

“Well, you’re welcome in our house any time, son.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder and kiss your dad on the cheek goodbye.

“We’ll visit when the football season starts. McLaggen was just telling me he wants to come to one of your games.”

Your dad has that funny look again on his face. McLaggen reaches out to shake his hand but instead, your dad pulls him into a hug. “A waste. A bloody waste,” he sobs.

McLaggen looks at you over your dad’s shoulder slightly bemused and pats his back.

“Dad?” You interrupt. He pulls away, wiping his eyes. “Right, tell mum I love her and I’ll see you both soon.”

“Alright, hen. Keep her safe for me. She’s precious cargo,” he adds and McLaggen nods solemnly.

He shuts your bedroom door and you take McLaggen’s hand, ready to apparate to Holy Island.

“I think he’s going to miss you more than he’ll miss me,” you laugh.

You think hard about your destination and with a crack like a whip, the pair of you vanish from your childhood bedroom.

Chapter 11: Blood Traitor

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

[novelsnovelsnovels]

Chapter 3

Our hero

tw// mentions of ptsd symptoms

He was pacing again.

Every time Buck caught himself doing it he went and made another batch of herbal brew to soothe his nerves. This was the seventh one tonight, and his stomach and bladder couldn't take it anymore. He could swear his piss came out lavender-scented now. And it did nothing to calm him down. He'd have to ask Sivale for something stronger; this plant mix just wasn't helping anymore. He paused to stare at his hand. It wasn't shaking yet, thank Baar, but his unrest was growing by the hour. The temptation to go look for a bottle of his father's brandy was dangerously persuasive tonight, and only the memories of his previous drunken mishap kept him away.

Mishap. Hah! What a cute word for it.

He was already on the thinnest of ice, and one tiny blunder was all it would take to get him kicked out of Runrick permanently. If he was lucky. He'd get skewered by someone's rusty pitchfork if he wasn't. But he couldn't fault them for hating him. He deserved it, and then some. If it weren't for his mother, he probably would've thrown himself at the townfolk’s mercy, and let them punish him however they saw fit. Heavens knew there were enough mothers and fathers that wanted nothing more than to take out their anger on him. Anger he had caused. And grief. So, so much grief. It might even help him a bit with his own feelings of guilt, but he didn't think he deserved any absolution.

Common sense would dictate that he leave Runrick, preferably in the dead of night, when it was least likely that someone would be waiting for him around a quiet corner with a pocket knife. There was no future for him here. He had no friends anymore. Only a heart-broken mother and a disappointed father. And it killed him to see how the town's reproach was extended to his parents as well.

They had been nothing but supportive neighbors and productive members of this community, kind and welcoming to everyone, yet no one was willing to cut them some slack because they had the misfortune to be saddled with a useless, piece-of-shit son like him. The fact that there was a town gathering taking place right at this moment and they hadn't summoned his father was a loud testament to how ostracized their family had become. It was another blow to his father's weakened heart. He didn't know how many more he could take.

Yes, it would be in everyone’s best interest if he just left. Only…he had nowhere else to go.

Buck stared out of his window. He could see the tower of the prayhouse from here. Was the gathering still going on? It was already dark outside, and that meant the way home was more dangerous now. The thing came mostly at night, after all. Or maybe they thought it was safe now since the beast had just claimed someone and should be satiated (poor Bramby) That was a hunter logic, though. This thing wasn't an animal. A predator, yes, but from Shulffa's accursed lot. It had no distinct pattern of attack, nothing about its behavior was akin to any animal they knew; sometimes it was sighted twice in one day, sometimes it disappeared for weeks on end, then reemerged thirsty for blood at completely random intervals. And not just to eat. It often left entire carcasses behind, which meant it would also kill just for the fun of it.

It had first gone after their livestock, then started killing people, went back to cattle, and then back to humans. Even now, another assumption about the thing got turned on its head. Up until today, everyone thought it only attacked at night, but Bramber's remains were found early this afternoon. He had been seen alive this morning, which meant the creature had paid him a visit in the middle of the freaking day. And that wasn't even the worst of it. He had been ripped to pieces in his own home. So not only was it willing to hunt during daytime now, it also came after you in your own house. Bramber’s home was well away from the outskirts of town.

Maybe that's why the gathering was taking so long. Maybe people simply thought that the holy prayhouse was the only place left in Runrick that could protect them, and they were now stalling so that they could stay in it for as long as possible. If Baar's house of worship was indeed the only thing that kept the creature at bay, then he felt even worse for getting his parents shunned from it.

Deep down, though, he knew it would eventually come after them there, too. As long as the thing was alive, it would keep killing. Hiding wouldn't save them. It needed to be stopped. He believed this wholeheartedly. Even now, after his disaster of an attempt to personally rid Runrick of the monster. He also still believed that bringing together Runrick's strongest men, and going after the creature armed and prepared had been the right course of action; he just had been the wrong person to lead the party. Oh, he had looked the part, alright, and had actual military experience to boot. Sure, Buck came back a bit odd after his time on the front, had a bit of a drinking problem too, but hey, he was still good, ol' reliable Buckcrown. The rowdy but promising youngster turned Runrick's pride and joy when he had been accepted into His Majesty's army. The only man in town ever with that accomplishment.

That had to count for something.

Well, turns out, it didn't.

Buck cursed every story he heard as a child about brave and noble knights, cursed that one book he read over and over as a boy that made him dream of just wars and honorable soldiers, but mostly, he cursed his own stupid and naive younger self. Every one of his childhood friends had been content with becoming hunters and woodcutters and steelworkers. And they had all wanted to stay in Runrick. That hadn't been good enough for Buck. He had wanted more; strongly believed he was meant for more. Everybody told him so, too. So he enrolled in the army the second he found out about the war at Alcsania's border against the barbaric Borsecia nation. He wanted adventures, hoped for riches, but most of all, he desired glory. The prestige that came with a clean uniform and a shiny medal.

He came back with none of that. Instead, what he got was nightmares, an unsound mind, and a number of nervous habits that had mothers warn their children to stay away from him. The incessant pacing was only one of them.

Now that he reminded himself of it, the need to start pacing again returned. He kept still, but now his right leg started twitching. He let it. He kept staring at the tower.

There was probably nobody they wanted to see less than him right now. His campaign had been a tragedy. He had led their sons and brothers and husbands right into the creature's waiting maw. Those who hadn't perished right then and there, had come back either mauled or marked. Only him and Bramber had escaped without a scratch; Bramber, because he ran at the first sight of it, and him because he froze up. The creature ignored him in favor of screaming, squirming prey. Apparently, even monsters thought he was too pathetic to be worth their time.

Why in the world did he think he could pull off the brave leader bit?!

No, he knew why. Buck had wanted to relive the time when he had everyone's admiration and trust. A time when he stood in front of his friends boisterously, proclaimed bold dreams, and was cheered for it. He so, so desperately wanted to prove to them, to his parents, and to himself, that he was more than the sad, quiet man that drank himself under the table and then picked fights with garden fences. That the war hadn't broken him completely.

Reality had punished him for his selfish, childish aspirations once already. And he hadn't learned.

Now, the sound of firing canons in his nightmares were accompanied by the screams of his friends and the slash of overgrown claws ripping through flesh.

His breathing and heart rate was picking up. At this rate he'd lose another night of sleep. He needed to do something. He still kept staring at the tower.

They probably wouldn't even allow me in, much less listen to me.

For a while now, a semblance of a plan had been stewing in the back of his head. He had tried to snuff out the initial sparks of the idea, simply because he had failed so spectacularly with his first one. He had no right to go and form another one. Still, he had needed something productive to occupy his long, sleepless nights and so he let his mind wander. Or wander wasn't really the right word. His thoughts kept circling the same thing over and over. Fire. They had tried shooting it, stabbing it, poisoning it. Nothing worked. But they hadn't tried burning it yet. Witches and the bastards of Shulffa were tied and burned at the stake, after all. Fire had to be the answer. But how to capture the thing and keep it still long enough to light it ablaze? Well, this is where his idea turned grim. Someone needed to lure the monster inside a small structure - a shed maybe - somewhere it couldn't get out off easily, and that someone would then set the whole thing on fire with it, and himself, still in it.

That someone, of course, was supposed to be him.

As sad as it was, it made the most sense. For everyone. They'd get rid of not only the monster, but the town's useless drunkard as well. The self-sacrifice might help clear his name, his parents might be forgiven, and the aggrieved families would get their vengeance. Win-win for all.

If he presented it like that, they might listen to him.

…........

Alright, he'd give it try. What's the worst they could do to him for suggesting it?

His parents were down-stairs; they never went to sleep until they knew he was laying still in his bed. They must have heard him pacing and were now sitting at the table concerned that their son was going to have another bad night. If they saw him head out at this hour they'd just worry even more. He'd climb out of the window and return before they'd notice he was gone. He was tired of causing them heartache. This idea of his....it would hurt them too, but at least they'd have some peace afterward. He grabbed his tattered jacket and quietly opened the window.

He hadn't done this since he was a child.

Back then, he and the others would meet after night fall and have the best of times while everyone else was asleep. They'd play games; hide-and-seek was far more challenging in the dark. Or they'd go spy on the inn, the only place in town open at night, and try to listen in on what the adults spoke among themselves. Whoever brought back the most interesting gossip was the winner, whoever got caught would lose.

They'd even venture out into the woods, as a test of courage. He'd always win that one, going further and staying longer than anyone else. That game had been his idea, of course. Great Mother's mercy, had he been a stupid kid. He had been dragging his friends into danger since childhood, it seems. There weren't any monsters back then, but wolves and bears were regular visitors. The grown-ups always warned them to never go into the woods alone, but they wanted to prove they were as brave as their elders. One hungry, wayward wolf was all it took to finish a child, and it had simply been pure luck that nothing happened to anybody back then. Stupid, stupid kid. And he had stayed stupid. No one had died then, but Buck had to go and rectify that. Galb, Bolovan, Rokhau, Marou; they all had been his friends, and all were now dead. Egbrim's arm got ripped off; Mullber was still ailing in bed from his wounds; Nad lost his mind to madness after staring into the creature’s eyes for too long. The others escaped mostly intact, but with scars that would never fully heal. They were probably at the prayhouse now too. Meeting their eyes was going to be hardest part. If they could bear to hear him out just one more time, he'd promise to pay his dues to them. He took one deep breath, and stepped out.

________________________________________________________________________________

The air was brisk, the cold cutting into his flesh mercilessly. His jacket was barely of any help, but it had been difficult enough to climb down the vine even without a thick winter coat weighing him down. He walked fast with large steps, but didn't run. It was easier to pay attention to surrounding sounds this way, in case something was creeping around in the shadows. Buck had gotten used to having street lights while down in the south-western provinces. He didn't feel as comfortable as he used to be, walking around in complete darkness, monsters or not. And he wasn't the only one. He could catch the occasional flicker of the candle light inside the houses. Most buildings around here didn't even have a fireplace, and any form of electricity was completely out of the question. Before, when it got dark, people just went to bed. Now, there was at least one candle burning in each household every night, and at least one person staying up to watch over it. At least the local tallow business was getting a profit from this.

There, just one more turn around the corner. He contemplated going in through the backdoor to observe the group and the discussion secretly from the side before making his presence known. Feel the room so to speak, and assess whether or not it was safe for him to approach them. One the other hand, if he went in that way he'd might just chicken out and leave. By using the main entrance, he had no choice but to stay and face everyone.

One pause to collect himself, one more deep breath, and he swiftly turned the corner -

And stopped dead in his tracks. Blinked. Froze.

There was something moving in front of the prayhouse's entrance. It was as black as the darkness surrounding it and the only reason he was able to notice it was because of its erratic back and forth movement.

It was the creature. What else could it be?

He was right, the prayhouse wasn't any safer. The large number of people was what must have attracted it all the way over here. It found its way right to the center of town, and was about to burst in and slaughter everyone. He couldn't let that happen. He had to rush it. No, it would just kill him instantly, and that would ultimately help no one. He had to yell, as loudly as he could. Get its attention, while warning the others at the same time. Maybe enough would manage to escape by the time it was done with him. It wouldn't save all, he realized this. Some would die, but if he could help save just a few, it would be worth it.

Except he couldn't get his throat to make a sound. He couldn't even get himself to start breathing. He wanted to make noise, any noise, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Buck could feel his lips moving, trying to form words, but there was no strength in his chest to push out any sound. He couldn't even whimper.

Again. He was going to stand by and watch people die, again.

Please, please, please no.

And then it stepped forward. The prayhouse was one of the only well lit structures in town, with a large chandelier and several other candelabras illuminating the interior. Some of that light was spilling out into the street from the round glass window hanging above the double doors. As it approached the steps leading up to those doors and stood in the sallow light, Buck could finally make out its actual shape and size.

It...was a man.

He was dressed head to toe in black. Who even had threads this dark? Clothes around here tended to be either white-gray, a variation of the color brown, and the occasional dirty green. No one wore black here, not even at funerals. The beast was pitch black. The beast was the blackest thing he had ever seen; a huge, misshapen splotch of living ink with long spider-like limbs. Whenever he thought of it, the first thing that came to mind was that deep, eerie obsidian. No wonder he had thought first of the monster.

Who was that man? He wasn't from Runrick, that was for certain. He doubted anyone from Pelase would come here anymore. A traveler?

Who in the holy fuck would willingly come to Runrick? Around this time, no less.

He suddenly felt very angry at the newcomer for having scared him like that. It was silly and irrational, but with the way his insides were still quivering from the shock, he thought a little bit of unjust irritation was excusable. He was about to open his mouth and call out to the man when the man suddenly turned around and went the other way. Two, three, four large steps, and then stopped. Turned around and walked up towards the doors of the prayhouse again. This time, he reached for the handles. Stopped. And turned around again. This was what he'd been doing before too, when Buck couldn't see him clearly. Pacing nervously.

Now Buck wanted to laugh. He didn't know if it was because post-shock hysterics were setting in, or because he found this image of the jittery mystery man hilarious, but he felt like he was going to start guffawing any second now. Then the man did something even stranger. He pulled off his hood, and ran his hand a couple of times through his locks. The movement was brisk, but vigorous, and not entirely a nervous gesture. Something gave Buck the impression that the man was now feverishly wishing he had a mirror.

He still couldn't see him very well, but the sight of that rich head of dark hair seemed familiar. He was still certain the man wasn't from Runrick, but he had met him somewhere before. The military? Was he here for him? He would've started worrying if not for the fact that he couldn't quite convince himself that that's where he knew him from.

The man arranged and rearranged his locks, then pulled up his hood, pulled it off again, picked at his tresses again, and pulled up the hood, this time for good, apparently. He then started to brush and smooth his clothes with his hands. As he bent down, he seemed to just notice how muddied his boots and lower side of his pants were, and cursed. He couldn't hear him that well either, but “Shit, should've at least changed these fucking pants!” sounded like a plausible conjecture. He saw him raise his shoulders and then lower them with an audible exhale. He was bracing himself for something.

Who was inside the prayhouse that made him so anxious? The man looked at the house resolutely, and almost rushed at it. With one motion he pulled open both large wooden doors, and stepped inside – a little too dramatically, if Buck were to be honest.

He had been so absorbed in his observations of the newcomer that it took him disappearing from view to snap Buck out of it and into action. Guess he was still a little woozy from that scare earlier. Either that or the lavender was finally kicking in. He looked at the slightly ajar double doors the man just walked through. He couldn't enter that way now, so he ran back around the corner and prayed Suisel had left the backdoor unlocked. He wanted to see what this was all about first before he let anyone know he was there.

The backdoor led to a small antechamber located at the far side of the left wall, right next to the main shrine. He could see the entire room and entrance from there, while still remaining relatively hidden from the congregation. He didn't need to bother with being discreet though, since everyone's back was turned to him. They were all now facing the newcomer that had interrupted their exclusive gathering. Something had just been said before he came in. Buck only caught the fading echoes of someone's voice resounding in the room. He was pretty sure it belonged to the stranger. What had he said?

The room wasn't as full as he had expected, but it was still quite the turn out. Seemed like not everyone was willing to brave the darkness after all. Their small prayhouse wouldn't have been able to fit in even a fifth of their town anyway; but Buck knew that should disaster strike them, and this building was the only safe place left, it would the people present here now that would be given sanctuary before anyone else. Especially those seated on the newly added benches in front, right next to the shrine. These people were Runrick's gentry. Chief Slatrim, the priest and his wife, Olvic with auntie Eshe, Ogette and Olle, ol' man Ceric, Gulver and his whole family, Piencer and his whole family, Furcut , Utmar – anyone who was either of higher rank or a rich merchant, or a boot-licker to one of them. The rest had to stand.

Chief Slatrim was the first to speak. “Who are you?” He slowly got up from his seat, a chair placed right in the middle of the dais, right before Baar's shrine, so he could overlook the gathering. Next to him, Priest Santr chimed in. “How dare you say that name in Baar's house,” he croaked, but remained cautiously seated.

Buck heard the stranger huff in amusement. “Funny, you didn't seem to have a problem with saying that name over and over again last time I was here.”

Last time. So, Buck had been right, he had met him before. He must have visited Runrick in the past, before Buck left for the military. That voice didn't sound at all familiar, though. If he could only see the man’s face, but it was still mostly obscured by the shadows of his cowl. He was also too far away from where Buck was hidden.

He was just standing there, a dark frame hovering in front of the entrance, and seemingly uninclined to come any closer than that. There was something ominous about his presence in here, a stark contrast to the almost comical little routine Buck had witnessed out-front. The others grew more agitated too. He saw Suisel sneak up to the priest and whisper something to him. The priest then nodded, and Suisel disappeared behind the shrine. He came back out holding a shot gun and went to stand behind Santr and his wife. Chief Slatrim had his helpers with him too. Shumper and Slaop left the wall they had been leaning against to take up their positions as the magistrate's sentinels. They were large, bulky men, practically raised by Slatrim to be his personal labor dogs. “Don't make me ask again,” roared the magistrate. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“You should know, you sent for me.”

There was moment of silence as everyone looked at the magistrate, but Chief Slatrim just stared back in confusion and replied in a low, angry voice “I didn' send for no one.”

“Is that so,” the man replied with fake surprise. “Oh dear, then that letter must have been about a different town named Runrick that is being plagued by a strange, dark-furred beast. Guess you folks don't need any help, then. My mistake. I'll take my leave.”

The entire room reacted at that. Chief Slatrim squelched the racket. “We do have...a problem,” the magistrate continued hesitantly,” but I don't remember sendin' anybody any letter.” He turned to look at Priest Santr questioningly. The priest shook his head, a little too urgently, “It wasn't me. I promised, didn't I.”

“It was me.”

Every head turned to look at Olvic. The merchant stood up, his face set in grim determination, but there was a little bit of guilt marring it. “I had to. There was no reasonin’ with ya no more.”

The room was quiet again, save for the sound of someone taking in a deep breath, and then releasing it slowly and unsteadily. The magistrate was furious, and fighting back his natural urge to start yelling. Slatrim was facing away from Buck, but he could already imagine the man's jaw quivering, teeth clenched and face flushed; those beady eyes peering sharply at Olvic. Slatrim had always had a bad temper, but it had gotten so much worse with age. He didn't take too well to being disobeyed, but Olvic wasn't someone he could push around easily. The head-merchant stood his ground. “We’re bein’ killed here, Slatrim. How many more 'til ya see we can't take care of this on our own?”

“If ya don't like how I run things, leave! Take ya own damn family and go!”

“I tried!” Olvic looked away in shame. “But Pelase won't take us. Said they don't want any of us comin' there. They're afraid we will bring misfortune, as well as that thing, with us.”

The room started buzzing with hushed discussions, people clearly concerned about what the merchant had just told them. It would seem quite a few of them had considered leaving the town themselves, and the news that it was no longer an option alarmed them.

“It gets worse,” Olvic continued,” they're thinking of blocking the road, so that none of us can leave. To keep the curse contained, they said.”

The buzz grew into an agitated commotion, people now outright frightened and despairing. It was one thing to not be welcomed anywhere else, quite another to be practically trapped in with the beast. Runrick only had one road that connected them to the outside world, and that led to Pelase. If they lost that, the only other way to leave would be through the forest, on foot, and that was practically suicide now.

Some yelled their outrage, others cried and moaned, but among the uproar Buck picked up one particular sound that took him completely aback. It wasn't loud, shouldn’t have been distinguishable in all that noise, but it was the dissonance that made it stand out so garishly. Everyone else started hearing it too, and slowly quieted down to look at the newcomer incredulously. The man was chuckling. When he noticed everyone staring at him, instead of stopping, he doubled down and started laughing. Soon, all that could be heard was the stranger's chilling laughter reverberate in the room. The magistrate's ire cut in. “This funny t'ya, boy?”

The man finally quelled his fit, but he kept his smile on. No, not a smile; that was a smirk. Even with him so far away, even without seeing that specific malicious glint in the eyes, Buck knew that there was disdain behind that upturn of the man's lips. It was wide enough to show a row of pearly white teeth, and there was something about that display that made Buck's blood run cold. He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that this man was trouble.

“Yes,” he replied earnestly. “Very. And I think neither you, or anyone else here, would hold it against me if they knew why?”

“Well, then why don't ya share it with the rest of us,” hissed the magistrate.

“Alright,” chirped the stranger.

He then started moving forward, walking casually towards them. People bustled to get out of his way, all eyes on him. He walked down the center of the nave with long, purposeful strides, right up to the magistrate. The shorter man tensed, Shumper and Sloap also ready to jump in to help their boss. The man didn't stop, didn't even slow down, as he went right passed the magistrate. The old man had wavered and stepped aside when it became clear it wasn't him the stranger had been walking towards. He casually passed between Shumper and Sloap, both towering over the hooded man, completely unfazed by their attempt to intimidate him with their fierce glower. He walked down the aisle and climbed up on the dais, looked at the chair Chief Slatrim had been sitting on, turned around, and plopped down on it. The uproar was back. The priest and his wife, who had been sitting next to the magistrate, now jumped out of their seats too. “This is insolence,” cried the priest, but made sure to get off the dais before he did so. Instead of responding, the man grabbed the now empty chair the priest had been sitting on and used it as a leg rest. Without so much as uttering a single word, the stranger had managed to insult both the magistrate and the priest more than they had ever been in their life. Not even his old teacher had ever gone so far. Buck wasn't particularly fond of either the magistrate or the priest, both having expressed their displeasure and disappointment in Buck harshly and condemning him to isolation without any remorse, but they were still his elders, and the leaders of his town. They still deserved some respect. Who is this cheeky little shit? He was close to Buck now, but the proximity didn't help any. His profile was covered by his hood, only a straight, sharp nose and a hint of lips peeking from behind it.

Chief Slatrim was still as a statue, only the muscles in his jaw twitching. He might have been a short-tempered, bitter old man, but he was shrewd enough to recognize a power play when he saw one. “Well?” he demanded. The man didn't reply immediately. Instead, he just kept staring at them. A slight rotation of the hood indicated that he was surveying the gathering, as if to take note of who was there. Buck made sure he was well hidden behind the corner of the room.

“Most of you were there that day, so you all should understand why I'm so pleased by all of this.”

The magistrate lost his patience “WELL?” he roared again. “Will ya just fucking explain yourself already?”

“Better than that,” the man chirped, “I'll show you.”

And the man pulled of his hood.

It didn't hit immediately. The anticipated reveal turned out to be underwhelming when the man's face didn't instantly tell Buck anything about his identity. But as he kept looking, it slowly came to him, bit by bit, separate pieces that he realized fit together. The more the puzzle filled out, the more familiar the image became.

The thick, black locks he had recognized outside suddenly appeared in a long-forgotten memory; a pale-faced boy sitting alone underneath a tree. The boy had deep dark eyes that always held a bit of resentment when looking at you, just like the man before him did now. The shape of the nose, the cut of his cheekbones, and everything else about his face matched a little with what he remembered. Some things were definitely different about him. He still had that same sickly complexion, but the dark circles under those eyes had disappeared, and his cheeks weren't sunken in anymore. He had filled out, you could tell. He was also radiating confidence now, to an obnoxious degree to be honest, whereas before he had been rather gloomy and skittish.

However, Buck's most glaring memory of him was that of his yellow-tinged pupils looking helplessly back at him, mouth too filled up with sharp teeth to speak properly. That memory was then followed by another one, just as vivid; the boy, bruised and beaten, was furiously yelling at them, the raw hatred in his voice and Ogette's frightened sobs spurring Buck into action. The last thing he did to Luric, before he left town to be raised and trained by one of the most prominent and powerful families in the country, was hurl a rock at his head.

“Shit.”

It was only when he saw Luric blink in surprise and begin to slowly turn his head in his direction that Buck realized he had said that out loud. And Luric had heard. He immediately pulled his head back behind the corner, twisting so that his entire backside was now plastered against the wall between them. Buck needed the support; his legs were shaking. He was breathing hard, his heartbeat loud in his ears. Had he been fast enough? Had Luric seen him? He tried to listen if footsteps were coming his way, but there was nothing. He didn't dare peek around the corner anymore, so he kept his ears open.

Meanwhile, recollection started to dawn on the rest of the townsfolk as well. Buck could tell by the higher pitch and urgency in their voices, and the tumult kept escalating as doubt and confusion dissipated, and realization struck; the past had come back to bite them in the ass at the worst possible time.

“It can't be him.”

“No! No, no!”

“Are ya kiddin' me?!”

“There is no way, it's not him.”

“I told ya all. I told ya he'd come back someday. I said it!”

They were getting hysterical, just moments away from running out the door. Luric was here for vengeance, they were certain of that. So was Buck. He felt like at any moment he'd change into that horrible creature and maul everyone in the room. Buck's fears would come true in the most unexpected way. Same scenario, different monster.

“QUIET,” Chief Slatrim's voice thundered, and everyone got shocked into silence. Buck leaned his head forward only slightly, just enough for the chief to appear into his line of sight, but not enough to be visible from Luric's position. At least, that’s what he hoped. The magistrate had a steely glare fixed forward, almost as if he was trying to stare Luric down. Buck heard the preacher shriek at the merchant. “Who in Baar's beard did you write to?”

“To...the Institute of Occult Science or somethin'.”

“You what?”

“I have friends in Pelase. Or I used to. Before things got too bad, I sat down with Kishker. He has a cousin' down in Ratimu, and he said that they had their own troubles with a damned creature too. They sent for someone from the Institute. They came and got rid of it. That's what they do, they send people to kill these things.”

“Ya sure 'bout that?”, the magistrate rumbled. “As I recall, they said somethin' 'bout rounding 'em up to use the damned things.”

Shut up, you stupid, pig-headed old man, Buck thought anxiously. The magistrate was set to prove that Luric didn't scare him, but the barb could cost everyone their lives. The preacher and Olvic thought so too, and hurried to move past that loaded little moment. “D-Does it matter,” stuttered the merchant,

“if they took it with'em instead? Ratimu got rid of it all the same.”

“Does this look like we're in good hands to you?”

“Well, I didn't know they'd send him, now did I?”

Great! The last thing they needed now was for the priest and the merchant to go off at each other like they always did at the alehouse. But Luric's voice cut all of that short.

“I could leave if you want.”

What?

“What?”

“You're not obligated to accept our help. You are the town officials, after all. Just say the word, and I'm gone.”

This time Buck did look all the way around at Luric. This was a taunt, it had to be. The chief thought so too. “Really, now? Ya' not here t' finish what ya started? Or watch us get eaten by one o' yours? How are we t’know this isn’t all yer doin’.”

If you suspect that, don’t say it to his fucking face! Buck wanted to punch the magistrate right in his stupid, wrinkled mug. This stubborn old man will be the end of them.

“I mean it,” Luric continued as if the magistrate’s accusation wasn’t worth wasting a single thought on. “I'll go, if that's what you want.” Another commotion, another wave of doubt and hope. Buck saw Slatrim narrow his eyes in suspicion, but opened his mouth to speak. Luric cut in before he had a chance to say anything.

“However,” he started loudly, “don't expect anyone else to come in my place. The only reason they even sent someone all the way in the middle of no-one-gives-a-fuck was because of me. Because I volunteered. No one else was interested in coming to this pigpen of a town. Your case wasn't exactly high on our list of priorities.” He leaned forward and leered at them, smirk wide again. “Now, I'm telling you to consider this carefully: You have a monster creeping around and picking you off one by one. You can't get get rid of it on your own, and you can't escape it either, now that Pelase cut you off. Winter is fast approaching too, and once you're snowed in, it's over. I assume you're not doing too well with provisions either, what with that thing killing your animals, and trade with the outside stopping completely.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, I'm asking you just once. Do you really want me to go?”

Buck was stumped. Everything Luric had just said was right. They were trapped, in more ways than one. And with a great number of Runrick's young men either dead or wounded thanks to Buck, their greatly diminished man power left them weakened not only in the face of this threat, but in the face of the merciless winter as well. What choice did they have?

Buck had come here with the intention of offering his sacrifice in exchange for their safety and forgiveness, but he doubted he'd receive more trust and jubilation than Luric. But...were Luric's motives as honest as he proclaimed? Was it wise to accept the help of someone who had once wished death upon them? He thought again of the young boy screaming at them, eyes mad and fangs bared.

“Do you speak the truth? Are you really here to save us?”

Luric looked at the priest. “I'm here to kill the monster. That’s all.”

“What can you do alone, that a dozen of our strong, young men couldn't,” yelled a brave voice from a safe distance.

Luric started laughing. “Well, I could give you all a demonstration of what it is exactly that makes me special and best suited for this job, but…I think you all already know.”

Everyone fell silent at that. Priest Santr kept glancing over at Slatrim, as if expecting him to say something. The old man was oddly silent, eyes still locked on Luric. Luric then sighed and reached inside his coat. He brought out a small hand book and tossed it at the priest's feet.

Santr hesitated but bent over to pick it up. Buck noted how he tried to touch it with only the tips of his fingers. He opened it, and his eyes grew large. He leafed through it, disgust more evident with every turn of the page. “What are these vile drawings supposed to be?”

“Those are renditions of the monsters I personally fought and killed,” Luric explained casually. “Consider that my letter of recommendation.”

Slatrim turned to look at the book then, and several other people behind them slithered closer to peek at it. Various exclamations of amazement and horror could be heard. Buck really wished he could get a look at it himself. “These things,” the priest started, “do they really roam our earth so freely?”

“Those don't anymore, but many more like them, or worse, do.”

“Great Mother of Baar!”

People whispered some more. There was a shift in the tone, Buck noted. Less trepidation, more debate. People were starting to consider.

“You'll note that most of those pages are empty. It gets filled with every monster I bring down. It depends on you whether or not the next page will have a drawing of your creature or not.”

The debate grew more heated.

Buck dared another look at Luric. There was a pensive expression on his face as he watched the townsfolk talk amongst themselves. No, not pensive; it was cold and calculating.

“Do you finally understand what it was that the Duchess meant then? Why she traveled the country to find people like me?” All attention was on him again. “What you didn't understand back then is that there is a difference between a real monster and a man that change into one at will. Unlike you, she still regarded me as human...just with extra abilities that could be harnessed for the benefit of fine people such as yourself. You all know the saying 'fight fire with fire', don't you? Well, that's what this is. What you saw as a curse, she saw as an enhancement. A fire in us that could be used against creatures like the one you have now.” A pause as Luric leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. He peered into the crowd, an almost gentle smile om his lips. “I wonder, if you hadn't made me leave,” another pause,” if I had still been around when the creature first appeared, maybe, just maybe, I could've stopped it. Maybe nobody had to die.”

The crowd erupted. Luric's words had struck their target dead-center. It was especially effective because the gathering was full of people who had lost someone to the monster, and their pain fueled the contention that was blooming in their mind. For the first time since Buck could remember, people were questioning the magistrate’s choices.

“YOU DID THIS!” Slatrim's ear-piercing roar echoed for what seemed like an eternity, promptly silencing the talk and the direction it was heading in. This had always been his method of garnering attention and securing orderliness; coerce everyone into submission with the force of his vehemency. The man was so convinced of his and everyone else's place in this community, and he bludgeoned that conviction into everyone else's head too. People questioning his decision was unfathomable, which is probably why Buck thought there was a hint of alarm in his eyes. “Ya brought this upon us! Back then, when ya cursed us. This is ya doin'! Ya just here t'see it through!”

“Didn't you listen back then, old man!? That's not how it works. I can't-”

“ I don't give am damn what that lyin' bitch told ya!”

Oh, no. Oh shit!

The magistrate was trying to bring back everyone on his side and did so with all the subtlety and finesse of a sledgehammer. Slatrim saw that he was losing ground, and the man was nothing if not territorial.

Buck held his breath and waited for hell to break loose at Luric’s hands.

“I see,” Luric said with eerie calmness. “Well, guess that settles it then. Sorry to have wasted your time.”

“Wait!” That was Olvic. “Don't go. It is as you said. Ya leave, it's over for us.”

“Olvic!” yelled the magistrate.

“No, Slatrim. This time YOU listen! I will not let my family die because of yer pride and stubbornness.” He then turned to the rest. “What choice do we have? We can't save ourselves, that has been made clear. Don't y'all want this to be over? To stop fearing for ya life and that of ya loved ones?” Another buzz, and then-

“Baar's beard, I do.”

“Olvic's right, this has got to stop!”

“I want it gone!”

“Kill that wretched thing! Kill it!”

“We want vengeance for our son!”

“I want t'see its fuckin' head on a spike!”

And just like that, the current turned around completely in Luric’s favor. Where before there had been only apprehension and distrust, now there was anger-fueled exaltation, and it was only growing in intensity with each interjection. Buck understood it where it was coming from. They had all been living in a permanent state of fear and despair, and this was the first whiff of true hope they had gotten in weeks. It was what had helped Buck gain support for his attempt too. They needed release for all that built-up tension, and Luric had come in and opened the flood gates. Buck could practically taste their gratitude.

There was enough common sense left in Slatrim to understand that even his iron grip couldn't hold this back, so he endured it, mutely and stone-faced. The priest, on the other hand, tried to shrink and disappear.

Buck looked back at Luric again. His gaze was directed downwards, eyes hidden behind his bangs. He was smiling again. Luric had smiled a lot since he came here. And not once had it looked kind or genuine to Buck. All of his smiles had been disquieting, but this one in particular worried him. Just as he was trying to figure out what it could mean, Olvic's shout drew his attention.

“Apologize, Slatrim! Tell 'im to stay and help us!”

Oh,dear!

Obviously encouraged by the support, Olvic rounded on Slatrim. There was another power play becoming evident now, Buck realized.

Then Luric's voice cut in again. “I think we're well past apologies, wouldn't you say?”

The room calmed. Luric suddenly got up, all hints of a smile gone. He stood tall and imposing, the platform he was on only adding to this air of dominance. He raised his chin slightly, and though his eyes were looking down on Slatrim and Santr, Buck knew he was addressing everyone there. “I want you to beg for my help.”

The chill in his voice sent a shiver down Buck's spine.

“B-Beg, my lord?”

“'My lord'? Wow,” Luric chuckled. “Quite a step up from 'bastard of Shulffa'. And let's not forget 'spawn of a whore', 'wretch', 'mongrel', 'sheep shit'. Some of those I think were even before we found out about my condition. Those really hurt, I tell you. But you know what hurt even more? Getting kicked and punched in the head and stomach repeatedly. Any of you remember that?”

The room was deathly still. Buck was afraid to even breath.

“I remember everything clearly. I begged. I begged you to stop, I begged you for help, I begged you for forgiveness, even though I had done nothing that warranted your forgiveness. None of you cared. You kept hitting and spitting on me. Do you remember? It happened right here.”

People were whispering again. The apprehension was back.

“So yeah, I really am fucking pleased about this. I think you're getting just what you deserved. For what you did to me and to Mr. Carshtin. And for your sake-” he eyed Slatrim and Santr, who were frozen in place “- I'd try not to spout that bullshit again about me being the one that attacked and killed him. Not in my presence. I was there, I saw who did it. I don’t know if you’ll ever admit to giving the order, but there’s never been any doubt in my mind that you were behind it.” Slatrim had the good sense to keep his mouth shut this time.

“So, you really are here for vengeance, then.”

As soon as the questions left his mouth, Buck started praying that he had yelled it loud enough for it to bounce of the walls and make it harder to discern where the voice had come from. Luric seemed caught enough in his own descant to not care about who had just spoken. He just raised his glare towards the cluster of confused faces.

“Don't worry,” Luric answered to no one in particular, “ I will only do what I was sent here to do. I will not raise my hand to hurt any of you. You're not worth the effort. Not to mention that I don't want to touch any of you. I will kill the monster and do nothing else. But as I said, only if you beg.”

There was no mistaking the malice in his voice. Buck had been right to suspect that he was here for far more than what he claimed. This was all about getting back at them. But that knowledge didn't change their circumstances in the end. Luric really was their best bet at getting rid of it, assuming of course his oath of not raising his hand against them was true. If not, Runrick's bloody plight had just gotten bloodier.

The townsfolk were restless, some already pushing for Slatrim to start begging, others still reluctant. There was no clear cohesion among the masses anymore.

Even with Luric's contempt laid so plainly before them, some were still willing to take their chances with him. Luric had dangled hope in front of their faces, and they had all taken the bait. Now they were hooked on his promise of salvation.

“I'm not beggin' for nothin'! Y'all wanna sell ya' soul to Shulffa's bastard, go ahead!” Slatrim’s stance was firm, but Buck couldn't help but notice that the fire had gone out of his voice somewhat.

“Pigheaded fool! Do our lives mean nothing t’ya?” Olivic pushed himself forward through the crowd and threw himself at Luric’s feet. “Please! I beg ya, my lord, help us! Take yer anger out on me if you wish, but help us!” It was quite the show, and the audience was clearly moved. After all, nothing garnered admiration and devotion more than the willingness to sacrifice yourself for others. Luric’s cocked one eyebrow at Olvic’s gesture, one corner of his lips slightly upturned. He seemed a little impressed, but a whole lot more amused. He saw right through it. Buck was just close enough to see him mutter something under his breath. He was pretty sure it was something along the lines of, “Sly bastard.” For whatever reason, he went along with Olivic's game.

“I suppose that will have to do for now,” he said, while staring at Olvic’s bowed head. “Tomorrow, I will set out to find the thing.” He was speaking to Slatrim again. “I want you to prepare all documentation regarding the monster, so I can have a better understanding of what I am dealing with here. Expect me and my colleague around noon.” With that, he stepped down from the podium and strode towards the exit. This time even Shumper and Slaop jumped out of the way. As he passed Slatrim, Luric paused, as if he just remembered something else he wanted to say to the magistrate. “Oh, and by the way” he leaned in, voice low yet still audible in the silent room. “I know I said I wouldn’t hurt anyone, but if you ever say anything disrespectful about Lady Archvel again, I will kill you.” And without waiting for a reply, he continued towards the door. Before he walked out, he looked over at Utmar. “I’m staying at your inn, just so you know.” A screech, a loud clang, and he was gone.

Everyone stood in shocked silence.

They all had trouble wrapping their head around what had just happened. Buck too was absolutely stunned. Talk about an unexpected turn of events. So much for his attempt at redemption; how could he even compete with Luric waltzing in and stealing the show like that? If Luric really was as strong and capable as he claimed, then there was absolutely nothing left for Buck to do.

But….

Again, the image of that furious little boy flashed before his eyes, and the feeling in his gut tightened. Was it wise to leave their lives in the hands of someone who despised them so profoundly? Luric still held a burning grudge towards them, that much was clear. As long as he delivered on his promise and nothing else, then it didn’t matter, but it was hard to imagine that he’d be satisfied with simply verbally browbeating his past abusers while he was here.

Something about this just isn’t right.

When he heard the others move, Buck quietly slipped away through the back door. He needed to get home before his parents noticed his absence.

No, it was better to tell them where he’d been, and who he had seen. This way it will be easier to convince them to stay inside the house the next few days. He turned to look towards the square, in the direction he assumed Luric would be walking to get to Utmar’s inn. He swore he could still make out the blackness of his cape in the dark, right before he merged with it.

#fantasy novel #horror #the shadows in runrick #dark fantasy #writing #I can’t keep a consistent update schedule to save my life

[bittersweetarts]

The Great War - Chapter 1 (Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction)

Summary: A war is brewing, but only some know this – Camyla Peake, daughter of Lord Unwin Peake, is sent King’s Landing to wed the Hand of the King. It is a shame though, that she garners the attention of his grandsons instead.

WARNINGS: Arranged marriage with Otto Hightower, sexism. 

AO3 - Spotify Playlist 

Chapter 1: The Flowering

Camyla Peake was not opposed to the prospect of being betrothed to an older man, but Lord Otto Hightower was a little older than she would have preferred.

Not that it mattered to Camyla’s father, Lord Unwin Peake, whose ambition overshadowed any fatherly concern he may have towards a child; let alone a daughter, because what utility did daughters have outside of marriage and childrearing.

It did not help that Camyla was also old by Westerosi standards, and Lord Unwin Peake had openly resented his daughter for not being wed. Most of the girls Camyla grew up with have long started families and fulfilled their duties. The Head of House Peake often moaned, usually over dinner and wine, that he regretted not arranging her betrothal when she was a child, and had long already arranged a betrothal for Myrielle, Camyla’s younger sister. Myrielle had yet to celebrate her seventh nameday.

Unfortunately for Camyla though, most considered the girl to be barren, until she finally bled for the first time, a few moons before her twentieth name day. It was a miracle really, and when the maids at Starpike Castle discovered the young noblewoman in bed, clutching her sheets, attempting to conceal her flowering. These maids went to Lord Peake right away, to inform him of this, despite Camyla’s begging. An ambitiously cunning man, Lord Unwin Peake set out right away to arrange an advantageous match for his eldest living daughter, and this sadly did not surprise the young woman in the slightest.

What Camyla Peake least likes about herself is how much she takes after her father. Like her siblings, Camyla takes after him physically, with abundantly ash hair and dull gray-brown eyes. Unlike her brothers and sisters though, Camyla was clever and shrewd, like her father. She was not always like this though.

When Camyla was young, she thought herself to be a princess. Her father, an affluent lord, was not affectionate, but her mother, Lady Amyra Tyrell, had compensated for this, bathing her children in love, and impressing upon them their value. Her elder siblings, Titus and Taliya, used to be her playmates, and together, they pretended to rule an imaginary Eighth Kingdom, which was unseen to the common eye; Titus was the gallant King, Taliya was his benevolent Queen, and Camyla was the Princess which their common folk adored. There were no dragons or mean fathers in their Kingdom, and it was Camyla’s favourite place in the realm. Too quickly though, these games became too childish for her siblings, who had to grow up and leave home. Titus was sent to serve their grandsire Lord Redwyne, in Arbor, and Taliya was wed to one of Lord Frey’s sons.

Camyla still lived in her fantasies though, and remained tender hearted. Though her siblings stopped playing, Camyla never did when she was younger, and would imagine countless tales which took place in their imaginary world.

But when their mother had died giving birth to her youngest sister, Myrielle, Camyla became changed. Ten and three, Camyla had to learn to take care of her babe sister, for her father did not.

And when Taliya died giving birth to her first child, while still a girl herself, a part of Camyla died as well. This was when Camyla changed, and as the years passed, Camyla grew to become more like her father, which is why she was not shocked when her father, mere days after her flowering, hastily declared during their supper.

“The Hand of the King. That is who you are to impress when you leave for King’s Landing on the morrow. For your own sake, you should secure this betrothal, for you will not have a home here no more. I have cared for you long enough.”

And that was it. It only took some blood for Camyla Peake’s life to be completely changed. As her father demanded, Camyla spoke her farewells to her younger sister and home at Starpike, and departed on her weeks-long journey, leaving with only what could fit in a carriage and the stern Septa Maris, who would watch over her conduct at the Red Keep (and inevitably report her every movement to her father). Camyla expected sadness to consume her, for she was leaving the only place she had ever known, home not only to her, but to the memories of her mother and older sister; but no sorrow took hold. Camyla only felt empty.

It was not easy to astound Aemond Targaryen, but when his brother, Aegon, declared one afternoon that their grandsire was about to wed a girl half their mother’s age, Aemond Targaryen was truly astounded. Surely this could not be true, because why would the wise Lord Otto Hightower betroth himself now, especially to a girl younger than some of his grandchildren?

No. The one-eyed Prince could not believe it, it must be a malignant lie. His grandsire would not get betrothed for companionship; that was what whores were for, Aemond heard him say once. No, his grandsire would not bind himself to a girl, but rather to her House. But marrying a girl so young, at his age, was a shocking notion, and Aemond could not be the only one astounded by this. It must be a misunderstanding.

But Aegon declared it to be true, and jovially asked the Hand about it over supper the very same evening, in the presence of their mother, the Queen Alicent, and their father, the King Viserys Targaryen.

“It is true.” Lord Otto Hightower answered plainly. Aemond immediately noticed how his mother was silent and did not touch her food, and he noticed how his father appeared rather pleased that evening, weakly raising his goblet while coughing.

“Congratulations, friend. What House does the blessed woman hail from? And when is the wedding to be? We must host a tourney and have a grand feast. It has been long since joy has been spread in these halls.”

Helaena had given birth to Maelor only a few moons ago. Bitterly thought Aemond.

“Thank you, your Grace.” His grandsire tightly smiled at his father, taking a sip of his wine before answering. “It is Lord Peake’s eldest daughter, and as we speak, she should be journeying to us from the Reach. I am to meet her first, to decide whether she would be a suitable wife.”

“What could be wrong with Lord Unwin’s daughter?” Queen Alicent finally spoke, her speech devoid of emotion. Aemond’s eye was still helplessly fixed on his mother; he felt like he was the only one that cared for her behalf and hated that it was so.

Clearing his throat, the Hand answered his daughter awkwardly.

“She is not very young but has never been betrothed. I would like to see her defects for myself before accepting her.”

“Well, how old is the spinster?” The King asked, in a lighthearted tone, but choked on his wine as his Hand answered.

“Twenty.”

The conversation tensed, and their grandsire quickly tried to change the topic. Not very young? She is merely a year older than I am. The one-eyed Prince dubiously thought.

“How I love fresh meat at the Keep.” Aegon whispered crudely to Aemond, who ignored his brother’s insipid comment. Instead, the one-eyed Prince continued watching his mother, who he realised was picking on her nails yet again. His mother was not the only one he worried about, however. Glancing at Helaena, Aemond also contemplated whether she heard what Aegon had said, as she vacantly stared down at her plate.

“Sevens, the scent is revolting.” Camyla Peake declared, pinching her nose.

“Camyla!” Austerely chastised Septa Marris, sharply glaring at Camyla. The middle-aged woman who was not overly fond of her, as of yet. “The Seven’s name should not be said in vain!”

The carriage carrying them was slowing down now, having passed through River Gate. They were not far from the Red Keep now, but Camyla could not see anything beyond its silhouette yet.

“Apologies Septa.” Camyla responded nonchalantly, looking out the window again. The smell really was awful, but at least Blackwater Bay was a better sight. The sky was dull, despite the rising of the sun, and the waters were devoid of colour, but Camyla preferred it to staring at Septa Marris’s scowling face concentrating on her boring needlework.

The journey had taken weeks, and Septa Marris made for poor company, in Camyla’s opinion at least. To pass the time, Camyla tried reading, but it only made her nauseous, and so, with nothing to do, Camyla just sat in silence during their travels. Consequently, there was nothing to distract the brunette from her thoughts.

Camyla was not nervous about being wife to Lord Otto Hightower, for she already knew what her duties would entail: play the role of a nice little bride, and birth a child or two. Camyla also understood her fate all too well – it was to be a pawn, either at her father or soon-to-be husband’s hands. Frankly though, Camyla did not care all that much, or rather, could not be bothered to care. Though the prospect of her life in King’s Landing, being caged in a loveless marriage and the walls of the Keep, bored her, Camyla was also not interested in her father’s games. All he wanted was to make House Peake the greatest in Westeros, but what was so great about it? Most of her family were cruel, bigots, or cruel bigots, and her father was no exception. Moreover, her father did not respect her, simply because she was born without a cock between her legs, so why should she try to vie for his approval?

No, Camyla would not try, not anymore. The young woman had decided that she would not be trying to create a life with Lord Otto Hightower for her father. Should he agree to the betrothal, Camyla would try to pursue some semblance of a happy marriage, only for herself, and if that fails, then she would hopefully have at least a child who she could love. There was the concern that she would not bleed as a woman again, and that she was indeed barren, but Camyla chose to ignore this. It was an irrational fear, for no other woman in her family was barren, so why would she be the first?

Camyla also no longer wanted to return to Starpike, nor did she want to live with her unkind father. Though she missed Myrielle, Camyla did not miss Unwin Peake and the way he ‘showed love’. There was something in Camyla’s stare, defiant by nature, which seemed to infuriate Lord Peakem, and when he had a lot of wine, he would ensure that Camyla knew his fury.

King’s Landing never was where Camyla imagined her home to be, but she welcomed the notion of it. The idea of being a lady wife to an important man was appealing, and her new life at the Keep would be hers to forge. All she had to do was please Lord Otto Hightower well enough. Surely it should not be too difficult. Thought Camyla as she stared at the moving sea waters.

Upon arriving at the Red Keep, Lady Camyla Peake and Septa Marris were greeted by Lord Otto Hightower, rather indifferently, in front of a large crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Camyla did not expect warmth or affection from the Hand of the King, and was actually surprised; not by his attitude, but by his physical appearance. Camyla had expected a man bearing in resemblance to her father, in that the Hand’s countenance would be heavier and more rounded. Instead, Camyla came to meet a tall slender man with a kind face, which made her feel at ease, that is until she actually got to speak to him more directly.

Following his cold welcoming, Lord Otto Hightower practically demanded that Camyla meet him in the Gardens during the afternoon, so that they could properly speak to each other. Camyla wondered what he thought of her. She knew that she was no great beauty, with a wider figure, pale skin and darker hair, but maybe her youth was appealing to him. However, when Septa Marris proceeded to fret over her appearance the entire morning while she unpacked Camyla’s belongings in the guest quarters, Camyla became grow irritated. Why was her beauty the only quality that mattered?

“You were a mess upon arrival – How could I let you meet Lord Hightower like that!”

“It matters not.” Camyla chimed in a bored tone, staring out of the window. The view overlooked the pillars of the Keep and King’s Landing, which was intimidatingly grand. Starpike Castle scarcely compared in scale.

“Of course it matters! Lord Hightower is judging you in everything. He is Hand of the King for a reason.”

Sighing, Camyla snapped back, in a mildly irritated tone. “It matters not to me. If we do not get betrothed, it will not be the end of times, no matter how much my Lord Father tries to make us believe otherwise. I am doing as he demands, but I cannot force the hand of Fate as well.”

Again, Septa Marris chastised Camyla and ranted to her about the importance of acting agreeable and soft-spoken, especially to Lord Hightower and all who are important at King’s Landing. But Camyla quickly grew bored of the speech, and ignored Septa Marris as she began intricately plaiting her thick hair.

Eventually, a comfortable silence lulled over the quarters, and Camyla became distracted with other thoughts. She wondered about court life at the Red Keep. As far as Camyla was aware, the King’s children were the only people close to her age (disregarding anyone not of noble blood), but the young woman hoped she was wrong about this, because otherwise, her life at King’s Landing would be rather solitary and lonely, for Camyla did not expect that the Princes and Princess would be keen to befriend the young wife of their grandsire. Perhaps there were some Lords at the Keep, maybe part of the King’s Small Council, who had daughters living with them. Or perhaps the Princess has some ladies-in-waiting close to her age. Camyla could only hope.

Naturally, Camyla knew of the members of House Targaryen, as well as their reputation. Of Queen Alicent’s children, Prince Aegon, was infamous in Westeros for his unpleasantness, and shamefully indecent past times, meanwhile his sister-wife, Princess Helaena, was often described in conversation as kind, but peculiar in character. Camyla has heard little about Prince Aemond’s character or attitude, but the story of how he had lost an eye when he was little, in exchange for Vaghar, a fierce dragon that had aided in Aegon’s Conquest of Westeros, was well-known. Camyla Peake expected that Prince Aemond would bear some similarity to his older brother in character, and she knew it better to avoid both.

The only Targaryen children that Camyla did not expect to meet was Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daeron. Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, is a woman grown, with her own family, and she lived away from King’s Landing. Prince Daeron, though younger than his siblings, resides in Oldtown, serving as a cupbearer and squire for Lord Ormund Hightower; at least that is what Camyla’s father had said once during dinner with guests, a few moons ago. Either way, Camyla did not expect to meet either of them tonight, which she was fine with. In fact, Camyla wished she did not have to meet anyone from House Targaryen, for none of them, if shown by history, were good companions if one valued their life.

When Camyla finally greeted Lord Otto at the Gardens, the sun was harsh and unforgiving, and the young brunette regretted Septa Marris’s choice of attire for the walk; a hugging, heavy fabric gem-coloured gown, which seemed to trap the heat. Camyla tried to keep her cool, but it was rather difficult.

“Your father and I have known each other for decades. He has never mentioned you to me before now.” The Hand stated simply, his hands clasped behind his back as he strode ahead of Camyla, who walked more slowly, lifting her gown to appear more lady-like.

“I do not why.”

Actually, Camyla did know why, but she would not make Lord Otto privy to that knowledge. Camyla’s answer did not satisfy the Hand though, who stopped walking and turned to face the young woman, his brows furrowed.

“I am going to ask you plainly, and it will be without consequence for our arrangement. You have my word. All I ask is the truth. Have you given up your chastity to another already?”

Camyla’s eyes widened, taken aback by Lord Otto’s forwardness, and immediately responded, her low voice in shame.

“Of course not.”

As she spoke, Camyla’s gaze wandered to her feet. She knew that her age would be an issue, but she did not realise that others would suppose she was unwed because she had whored herself out. Lord Otto Hightower, on the other hand, seemed satisfied in her response, perceiving it to be truthful, and continued to walk, not waiting for the young girl to follow.

“So why has Unwin not wed you off yet?”

Glancing back up, Camyla rushed to keep pace with the Hand, her sight still set to the ground.

“I cannot speak for my father. He is the one who decides on these matters.” Camyla uttered a response. She did not want to lie, but she did not want to reveal the truth to Lord Otto either. Thankfully, he did not press upon the subject anymore, and began to speak to her about his expectations (they were as Camyla anticipated: remain silent, be faithful, and to do as he says). Camyla found that her input was rarely asked, that Lord Otto preferred to speak instead of listen, and Camyla tried to not to be irritated by this. Eventually, his conversation ceased, and he turned to face her again.

“My family dines together most evenings. You are expected to attend tonight’s supper. You will be in the company of the King, my daughter and their children. Dress appropriately and behave as expected.”

Pressing her lips together, Camyla nodded, and this seemed to satisfy Lord Otto Hightower.

“At sunset, I will send for a knight, Ser Arryk, to escort you. You are to be ready by then.”

Having spent some time with Lord Otto Hightower, Camyla formed some semblance of a judgment on him. Similar to her father, Lord Otto was proud and brusque, and Camyla knew how to act around men like that. They preferred women to be quiet and unseen, and Camyla could do that just fine. But did she wish to? Camyla Peake was undecided.

Camyla also knew that Lord Otto Hightower had once been dismissed from his post as Hand, but she did not know why. Did it matter? Camyla did not foresee a close companionship with Lord Otto as her husband, and while this was disappointing, it more importantly meant that she had to look out for herself, because Lord Otto would not. He gave her no reason to trust him. While she could ensure that their betrothal did not happen, what better prospects did Camyla have?

As demanded, Camyla was ready by sunset. Septa Marris had helped get her ready again, and Camyla sat in silence as her hair was undone; it was decided that having her curled locks loose but secured away from her face would best present her features. Septa Marris had also ranted how Camyla should act during the dinner, and to be careful about what she ate, as her hips made her appear wider than most other ladies; this greatly tested Camyla patience. Septa Marris had also tried to get Camyla to profess a detailed account of her conversation with Lord Otto Hightower, but Camyla stubbornly kept her descriptions short and vague. Camyla was no idiot. She knew that Septa Marris would quickly send a letter to her imposing father detailing everything, and Camyla intended to make this difficult, simply out of spite.

After Septa Marris finished getting Camyla ready, the young woman found herself idle with nerves. The sun had long set, but no one had come to get the young woman, and Camyla had no idea where to go. When Ser Arryk finally arrived to escort Camyla, the brunette felt like she could finally breathe again, despite her tight crimson gown, which was sinched to the waist too forcefully for comfort.

Camyla was normally quite forward, but Ser Arryk was intimidatingly large in stature, and despite his friendly face, he was in a seemingly bad mood, so Camyla did not try to ask about why he had arrived so late, and the pair walked silently, for seemingly forever. Camyla was amazed by how large the Red Keep was, and by the time they reached to the dining room, Camyla felt tired and her feet slightly ached.

“You are late.”

A voice echoed the room as Camyla entered. The room was dim, illuminated by candlelight in the hundreds. Camyla had always been drawn to flames and found herself momentarily distracted as she entered, not expecting the room to be set so beautifully.

“Nonsense, Otto. She is right on time – Come sit, Lady Peake.”

Despite his cheerful tone, Camyla went speechless, having been addressed directly by King Viserys, a character previously confined to her books and her father’s conversations. In all honesty, Camyla felt almost stricken just by the notion of the Targaryen King being aware of her existence.

Camyla Peake, still stood by the entryway, was practically frozen in place, and Prince Aemond Targaryen, who was watching her closely, could not help but notice how similarly the young woman resembled a lamb sent for slaughter. With her dark eyes wide and her full lips slightly parted, Aemond Targaryen quickly understood that his grandsire’s future wife was incapable of concealing her emotions very well. The one-eyed Prince could have shown compassion and smiled at her when their gazes briefly met, but instead, he maintained his usual frown. Still watching her, Prince Aemond Targaryen decided that he would not show kindness to the girl, not when her very presence at the Red Keep wounded his mother so deeply.

“Come Camyla, sit.” Lord Otto Hightower spoke up again, and the young woman quickly collected herself, and rushed to the only vacant seat available, between Princess Helaena and her future husband.

Camyla. Prince Aemond Targaryen mused. The name rolled off the tongue very tenderly, and the one-eyed Prince noticed how well it suited the girl. Though her features were simple, there was a graceful humility in her stride, and Aemond Targaryen now found himself incapable of looking away.

The room was silent as the young woman seated herself. When she glanced to her right, Princess Helaena smiled at her, and Camyla forced herself to return the smile, before turning to face the King.

“Thank you, your Grace, for welcoming me into your home. I am honoured, and truly appreciate it.” Camyla lively spoke, mustering all her conviction.

Camyla Peake had thought herself to be well-prepared and did not anticipate her confidence to waver in the presence of the King and his family. Unfortunately, Camyla was wrong, found herself unprepared at the sight of all the fair-haired Targaryens gathered, as well as Lord Otto’s daughter, the Queen Alicent, whose intimidating gaze was piercing. But Camyla knew that she could not show any frailty, not now that she was alone at King’s Landing. So naturally, she attempted to hide her weakness with a lie.

“Please forgive me for my cloddish entrance. I fear that I have not been able to eat since breaking my fast this morning, and do not function well without nourishment.” Camyla spoke in a lighthearted tone, hoping that her attitude could be perceived as endearing.

“Let us begin eating right away then!” The King declared, a grin plastered on his face. Perhaps it was due to the small amounts of milk of the poppy a Maester has Viserys Targaryen consume, but the old King could almost see the face of his dear cousin, Princess Rhaenys, in the Lady Camyla. Though the young girl did not possess his cousin’s lilac eyes, they did have similar darker hair, and the King found their personas to be akin. It was comforting having her around, he decided.

“My love, a prayer before we begin?” The Queen Alicent asked, her voice soft but domineering.

“Yes, of course.” Viserys Targaryen responded nonchalantly, smiling at his wife before placing his goblet back onto the dining table, as though he was merely humouring her.

As Alicent Hightower spoke prayers, thanking the Seven for the bountiful feast that was spread before them, Camyla Peake made a few observations. Not particularly pious, Camyla did not close her eyes during the Queen Alicent’s speech, and she was not the only one.

Daring to lift her head and look across, she saw the one-eyed Prince Aemond, who was sat with his eye firmly shut and his hands devoutly clasped together. At the sight before her, Camyla felt herself flush, realising that the young Prince was actually quite handsome, in an almost rugged way. How was he still not betrothed? Camyla thought to herself, unable to tear her sight away.

Camyla Peake then became mortified, when she glanced to Aemond’s right, and saw the Prince Aegon deviously grinning at her. Immediately, Camyla shut her eyes and began listening to the Queen’s prayers.

“… as well Lady Camyla’s safe arrival to King’s Landing, and may the Mother Above, font of mercy, also bless Lord Father and Lady Camyla’s union, if it comes to be.”

As the Queen’s prayers came to an end, Camyla understood that despite the Queen’s comity, she was not pleased with her father’s choice to remarry, and Camyla could not blame her. Camyla Peake would not be ecstatic if her own father decided to marry a lady half her age.

When Camyla opened her eyes again, she was met with Prince Aemond’s stare, and immediately looked away, her breath hitched. She hoped that Prince Aegon would not tell him how she was staring at him herself during the prayers, but knew that this would be unlikely. What does it matter? It is not them that I need to impress. Camyla attempted to rationalise to herself.

Sudden rough coughing caught Camyla by surprise and the young woman instinctively turned to the head of the table, where the King sat. As she looked at the sickly King, their eyes met, and Viserys Targaryen warmly smiled at her.

“This old man knows that it is not certain yet, but humour me the privilege of a toast, my friend.”

The King turned to Lord Otto, who forced his mouth to turn upright, and nodded. It was not that Otto disliked Viserys’s attention towards him at that moment, but rather because the Hand realised something critical, which did not please him. Otto Hightower realised that the King has developed an endearment towards Camyla Peake, something he fails to show his children (aside from his first born). Otto Hightower also understood that he had to wed Camyla Peake, not only because an alliance with House Peake was imperative, but also because now, the young girl would be useful with the King.

“A toast to my Hand, Otto, and his fair future bride, the Lady Camyla.” Raising his goblet, the King took a swig and everyone else followed in suit and proceeded to eat.

Camyla turned to her left, to look at Lord Otto, and found the man ignoring her completely. Camyla sensed that the Hand was unhappy with her, which made her sigh, perhaps a little to loudly, as the Princess Helaena giggled out loud, making herself known for the first time that evening. Everyone turned to look at her, and the young Princess merely tilted her head and smiled vacantly. Dismissing Princess Helaena’s queer attitude, everyone continued to eat and talk amongst one another. Only Camyla knew why the Princess had giggled, and it felt like a little secret between them.

“I am particularly fond of lamprey pie.” Camyla said quietly, turning to face Princess Helaena, who was pleasantly surprised to be addressed to.

“Did you know lamprey consume the blood of other sea creatures?” The Princess responded, rather loudly, smiling at Camyla, whose eyes widened in shock.

“Surely not.” Camyla answered apprehensively, placing her fork down in slight revulsion. Blood and violence made the young woman feel uncomfortable, and she was not keen on eating a creature that now seemed so vicious. Her new-found disgust seemed to attract the attention of some in the room.

“My sister is correct. Lamprey fish possess many sharp teeth which they use latch onto their prey, in order to draw their blood.” Prince Aemond coolly spoke up. As he did, Camyla abruptly faced him, and found the young Prince smugly smiling at her, as if entertained by her horrified state.

“There is no need to talk about such violent matters in front a lady, brother. Surely you should know that.” Prince Aegon said amusingly, evidently no longer sober. Immediately, the one-eyed Prince’s mood darkened, as though he had stepped on horse shit.

“I was merely making conversation, brother.” The one-eyed Prince responded coldly. Perhaps because Camyla was embarrassed to be discussed about like this, her eyes were glue towards the table, and she noticed how the one-eyed Prince’s hands gripped the silverware that he held, his veins protruding.

“I am sure the lovely Lady Camyla would prefer more pleasant conversation–”

“Lady Camyla is perfectly fine. Thank you for the concern, my Prince.” Camyla interrupted, forcing her tone to remain girlishly sweet, hoping that their bickering would end. She really did feel mortified, having caused a scene yet again that evening.

“Always, my Lady. You are to become family after all, and Targaryens are very concerned with family.” Prince Aegon spoke jovially slurred, though his double meaning was blatant.

The room had gone tense, and Alicent Hightower seethed quietly, astounded and irritated, unable to comprehend how her father was ready to wife a girl who behaves like a child, just as his own grandchildren do. Aside from Camyla, who felt herself flush at Price Aegon’s implications, everyone else ignored it, as that is what they do when Aegon behaved like this. Normally Otto Hightower would intercede and force civility between his grandsons but decided against involving himself in case the conflict escalated.

And so, the evening proceeded as such. Conversation flowed like a river flood, in that it was unsteady, and at times chaotic.

Camyla Peake tried to become invisible once she understood that Lord Otto Hightower was ignoring her, but failed; the King would ask her about her upbringing and life at Starpike, as well as her father, and Prince Aegon attempted to bait her into conversation through lewd remarks. Like her father, the Queen ignored Camyla Peake’s very existence, but the young woman took little notice of this, as her thoughts were elsewhere.

For some inexplicable reason, Camyla felt herself drawn towards the one-eyed Prince, Aemond. Though they scarcely addressed each other again that evening, their eyes would frequently meet, and Camyla felt herself flush under his demanding stare.

Camyla ascertained though that she simply found the one-eyed Prince handsome, and as she drank more wine, her stare strayed towards him more frequently. Prince Aemond Targaryen did not mind it though, and in fact quite liked it. Thankfully, only Prince Aegon and Princess Helaena noticed this silent exchange.

In low side comments, Aegon attempted to bait his younger brother by teasing him about wandering eyes. Princess Helaena, on the other hand, made no mention of this at all, merely vacantly smiling at Lady Camyla and providing empty responses when the young woman attempted to make conversation. Though Lady Camyla liked Princess Helaena well enough, she did find the young Princess to be a little odd.

And as the evening drew to a close, everyone slowly began retreating to their chambers, beginning with the King and Queen, the former of whom had felt unwell. Camyla Peake was again escorted back to her bedroom by Ser Arryk, at the behest of Lord Otto, after politely bidding goodnight to the Hand and his grandchildren. As Camyla and Ser Arryk approached her quarters, Camyla felt bold, perhaps due to the wine she had, and posed a question to the Kingsguard knight, breaking their mutual silence.

“Are they good? The Hand and his family, I mean.”

Camyla’s voice softly echoed the hallway, her eyes fixed to the ground beneath her. Ser Arryk abruptly stopped walking, surprised by her question, and stared at her with his brows furrowed. He had no thoughts about the young woman, and was surprised to hear her address him, as ladies rarely ever did. The tall knight paused for a moment, thinking on his response.

“It is not important, my Lady.” Ser Arryk stated simply, and began slowly walking again, patiently waiting for Camyla to follow him.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this new story! I cannot really explain how I came up with this plot idea, and really, I am here to see how much chaos and angst I can write into it. I will be publishing chapters every week on Wednesday, to make the wait until Season 2 a little more bearable. Though ambitious, this story is going to be quite long, and it begins in 127 AC, two years before the Dance of the Dragons.

#aemond targaryen #Aemond the Kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #aegon x oc #aemond x oc #aegon targaryen fanfiction #aegon targaryen x original character #aemond targaryen x original character #otto hightower x oc #otto hightower x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #alternate universe #au #dance of the dragon #lord unwin peake #original female character #slow burn

[siriuslyblacks]

wolfstar fic rec list

this is born purely out of my desire to contribute to the world of rec lists. over the past 5-6 months i have been consuming an absurd amount of marauder ff and wanted to toss my love out there for the fics that i absolutely LOVED. everything is hosted on AO3 unless otherwise indicated. i’ll probably add to this as i read more i really enjoy. everything should be marked with rating, major warnings, a summary -- i’ll put my own thoughts/comments when appropriate as well. i did not include fics where the primary relationship isn’t wolfstar because i already had so many on the list but if you ever want either more recs, more specific recs, or recs for fics where wolfstar is not the primary ship please just send an ask my way! :) happy reading!

fics denoted with ** indicate my all time faves. 

 One to speak, another to hear by seventymilestobabylon 

rating: teen, no archive warnings apply 

The Wizarding Wars are over, but the work of recovery has only begun. Remus Lupin is trying to find his place in an ever-changing world, and when he is invited to serve on a truth and reconciliation commission, he has to confront the truth that lives there—in the past and within himself.

this one i read a while ago and it probably deserves a re-read -- i remember really really enjoying remus’ portrayal in this fic as well as the concept of the truth commission. 

all my cards are here by haey1

rating: teen and up audiences

Sirius cracked a well-practiced smirk, “Nice to meet you, Remus.” Sirius looked at his bandmates loading their equipment into Potter's car, “You wouldn’t happen to know a bassist, would you?”

Marauders Band AU - When the Marauders kick out their bassist, they ask local bartender Remus Lupin to step in. As the band gains success, Remus must navigate his new friendship with Sirius under the public eye.

i love love loved this one! the sequel is currently a wip which i’ve been following as well. to be honest i’m a sucker for band aus featuring a messy r/s dynamic and this does not disappoint. 

** Remain in light by veeagainst 

rating: explicit

What if Sirius Black didn't die? It's been done many times. Here's my take on it.

THIS IS ONE OF MY MOST FAVORITE FICS. i love the wolfstar relationship. i think it’s very realistic and it’s honestly very comforting to me!! i’ve found myself revisiting this fic a few times because i can’t get enough of their characterizations, as well as the plot. i think this deserves all the hype. 

** Beneath a big blue sky by eyra

rating: explicit, warnings: homphobia, homophobic language

The four-by-four heaves its way down long, twisting lanes, little more than dirt tracks scuffed into the surrounding fields and hemmed in by serpentine walls of flat, grey stone. They truly are in the middle of nowhere: the countryside rushes past, all rolling green hills and vast, endless skies, and it's odious. Sirius wants to murder James with his bare hands.

Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

this one actually took me a while before i gave it a chance and it was so so worth it! sirius is absolutely adorable in this one and things unfold so naturally between them. give everything by eyra a chance if you haven’t, i love their fics but this one is definitely a standout in my opinion. 

** Into the Fire by wilteddaisy (taotu)

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, recreational drug use, implied/referenced child abuse, non-graphic violence, drinking. 

While war brews on the horizon beyond the walls of Hogwarts, the infamous Triwizard Tournament resurfaces just in time for the Marauders’ seventh year. When the students of Beauxbatons Academy and Ilvermorny School arrive, the champions are in for three unprecedented challenges. Meanwhile, Remus still has feelings, James is still trying to get the (Head) girl, and Sirius has revelations.

not a ton to say on this one except i loved the concept and the sirius characterization! i love too when the differences between sirius’s relationship with james vs with remus are touched on and how they each bring him very different things and one isn’t a stand in for the other! i think this story does it well. 

SHAME by wilteddaisy (taotu) (must have AO3 account and be logged in to read) 

rating: explicit. warnings include recreational drug use, mental illness, drinking, implied/referenced homophobia, sexual content, implied/referenced child abuse.

There were Isak and Even, Lucas and Eliott, Matteo and David… and now, Sirius and Remus. Or, alternatively: Sirius has some figuring-things-out to do. He’s not sure if Remus helps or makes things worse.  

SKAM au! i admittedly have not seen skam. but i loved this. i loved the friends to more, i thought the subject matter was handled well, and overall it was a very enjoyable fic. 

Sweater weather by lumosinlove

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, semi-public sex. 

Remus works for the Gryffindor Lions as a physical trainer, and has been half in love with Sirius Black, the Lions' heartthrob captain, for a while now, but he never expected Sirius to return the feelings. Read if you like cute nicknames, slow burn, and pining. Yep. That's it.

i am a physical therapist so this actually has a soft spot in my heart because this career is never featured in fic!! this fic is such a fandom classic now and it has amazing OC’s, great pacing, and the relationship which forms is so natural and just made me smile so wide. i devoured this in a day. 

Blends by rvltn909

rating: mature. 

Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say.

-

Another coffee shop au.

!!!! just cute cute ok. 

No Bright Line by lady_grey

rating: explicit. warnings include anxiety, PTSD, implied/referenced homophobia, implied/referenced homophobic violence, smut 

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.

lily is making song of achilles into a movie!!! it’s wonderful!! i honestly forgot about this one until i was looking through my list and it is such a gem and must read. i remember absolutely tearing through this one, i loved r/s dynamic and remus as a historian is perfect. side characters/plots are awesome as well. 

** Primavera by lunchbucket plus sequel Rococo 

rating: explicit

Sirius never had an interest in art, not until he found the right person to show it to him, that is.

the art!! the age gap in the relationship!! sirius needing to grow up!!! i love older remus and this ‘verse has a special place in my heart. i think i identified a lot with sirius in this one and especially in the sequel rococo which literally spoke to my soul. if you’re in a stage of change especially with school/relationships/your career i would recommend. 

Till we have arrived home by prouvairing 

rating: explicit 

Harry takes a deep breath. “I'm quitting the Aurors,” he starts with, which is followed by a moment of stunned silence. “What?” Sirius says. “All right," Remus says. “Do you know what else you want to do? Did you think about it?” Harry blushes, the way James used to—a rosy glow lighting up his brown skin—and says, “I wanted to—that is, I thought I might be a teacher.” Remus, quite suddenly, seems to have something in his eye. "Oh." “What?” Sirius says. “And uh—there's more. I was thinking I might like to. That is. I want to become an Animagus.”

Sirius Black & The Six by bellababe

rating: mature. warnings include substance abuse, drug use, past child abuse, domestic violence, mental health issues. 

“Remus Lupin, frontman for The Six.” Sirius took a long drag off his cigarette, looking up at the dense evening sky. “You know, I asked around about you. You’re quite the mystery.”

Remus shrugged. “Not much for the spotlight.”

“Right,” Sirius drawled. “I bet you’re also not much for the rock ‘n roll perks.”

Remus tensed, sparing Sirius a scathing glance. “I’m sober now.”

Sirius quirked a brow in disbelief. Remus scowled at his nonchalance, unwilling to explain himself and scared that maybe, just maybe, the disbelief was warranted.

Loosely based on Daisy Jones & The Six

** The Cadence of Part Time Poets by motswolo 

rating: explicit. warnings include drug use, mental health issues, drinking, homophobia, im probably missing a lot

“They’re… chaos,” Remus said firmly. “And chaos is—” “Rock and roll.” He looked at Sirius sharply, and for once, matched his grin. “Yeah.” “Maybe that’s my excuse then,” Sirius said. “I cause a bit of chaos now, and maybe one day, it’ll turn into rock and roll.” Remus pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “That’s some goal, Black.”

After losing his mother at age eleven, Remus has spent the better part of the last four years bouncing from school to school or else running around London and pretending as though he wasn't the kind of well-bred boy his father brought him up to be. Now, with his chances all run out, Remus is sent to Hawkings Independent School as a last-ditch effort to clean up his act. There he meets the very people who will set up the rest of his life, and is forced to confront the pieces of himself he'd long thought had been lost.

(genuinely not apologising for the slow-burn in this fic anymore. You've been warned <3)

this is my favorite fic of all time. i mean it. this deserves all the love and attention. it’s wip and going to be for a long time, it’s so worth the read. the world building is amazing. it’s remus centric and you just need to lean into the differences in this universe. it’s au - boarding school au, band au in the making. everything about this absolutely gets me and the r/s slowburn is so so so worth it. the characters are all so amazing and the oc’s are even better. it’s a time investment for sure but i can’t recommend it enough. it’s definitely my favorite non-magical au and i have nothing but good things to say about this. please read it and scream with me.  

No Matter the Wreckage by greyeyedmonster18 

rating: mature. warnings include underage drinking, implied/referenced child abuse, childhood trauma. 

His first summer at the Potters after fifth year--the year of fistfights in hallways, chugging firewhiskey straight from the bottle, too much smoke, exam pressure, scathing letters from his parents, and a careless prank that nearly cost him his friends--was nothing short of painful and illuminating. Sirius Black returns for his sixth year at Hogwarts with longer hair, determined to be different. A story on learning how to love, how to exist, how to be different through cracks and leaks. A story about love no matter the wreckage.

(a sirius focused marauders at hogwarts, getting together wolfstar fic)

station to station by aeridionis 

rating: teen and up 

Beneath it all, at the back of his mind he does know that there’s something terrible in this: terrible in the fact that it’s god-knows what time in the morning and he’s sitting here, sick as a dog, and then Sirius can turn up with his eyes and his laughter and his arm resting against Remus’, and suddenly he could do this forever, Remus could – sit here with him like this. Grow old on the bathroom floor, Sirius’ wandlight casting soft shadows over the two of them like the dark patches on over-sweet fruit.

Sirius’ laughter dies down and he sighs. “Nineteen seventy-eight,” he mutters, as though testing the year out, the way it sits in his mouth. “Mad, isn’t it?”

“A bit.”

or:

Nineteen seventy-eight: there's beginnings and there's endings and there's love and elsewhere, there's war, and when you're seventeen and you're eighteen and you're Remus and you're Sirius, only some of these things are important.

i really enjoy this author’s fics so if you have time definitely check out the rest too!! this one is just such a stand out to me. 

A Wolf’s Heart by mizdiz

rating: mature. warnings include major character death. 

Remus Lupin has a congenital heart defect, and is awaiting an available heart for transplant. Sirius Black is an immature twenty-something, living with a couple other immature twenty-somethings. Both are obsessed with the same obscure book, which becomes their coping mechanism for navigating their instant and torrid love affair. Life, they discover, is precarious at best, but from each other, they learn how to make it something that's worth living.

THIS WAS SO SAD BUT SO WORTH IT. 

** Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp 

rating: explicit

This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog.

Except, it's not really that.

This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog and meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks.

Except, that's not really it either.

This is the story of how Sirius black finds a dog, meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks, and grows the fuck up (at least a little bit).

older remus!!!! their relationship here is perfect. idk i love fics where one of them has to grow up/have an emotional journey in order to be better for themselves and comfortable with who they are before being in a relationship that’s healthy. sirius’ arc in this is perfect. i have used these tips i will not lie. i love wrappedup’s fics so much by the way so please check them all out <3 i have a few more on this list because i can’t help myself. 

** Happy Birthday, you by wrappedup 

rating: mature. warnings include minor character death, recreational drug use, terminal illnesses, coercion, mildly dubious consent, homophobia, body image. 

Sirius Black is about to turn thirty. But, like, it’s not a whole thing. It’s fine. And he’s absolutely not going to have a meltdown, fall in love with his oldest friend, and sabotage his own happiness.

He’s absolutely not.

i am convinced that this author is sirius black. i love their characterization of him in every single piece of their work. 

Impossible Things by accioromulus 

rating: explicit

Sirius’s thoughts are a slow-moving, impending disaster. How he wants to pin Remus up against the cupboards, to crowd him into a corner; how he wants to intertwine their fingers, to brush his lips against Remus’s forehead, his jaw. Instead, he settles for ducking his head and sliding a finger through the belt loop of Remus's jeans—a ridiculous gesture so utterly intimate, even for the pair of them, that he only allows it because he’s just drunk enough.

“Stop stealing my bloody clothes, Lupin.” He says, very quietly.

Remus looks up at him, eyes dark, and murmurs pleasantly: “Better learn to do your own laundry then, Black. Consider it my fee.”

***

It was an impossible thing, living with Remus Lupin--but Sirius was doing it anyway.

disintegration by moonymoment

rating: mature. warnings include graphic descriptions of violence, arson, war, death, blood drinking, corruption, ptsd

Remus stepped into Sirius’ personal space, leaning down and taking out his holy water doused dagger from his pouch. He placed it flat underneath Sirius’ chin, pushing his head up to look him in the eyes. He hissed as the silver burnt him, red and vicious.

“What,” he whispered, “are you doing here?”

Sirius looked pained for a second, and then he blinked, and that stupid, cocky smile lit up his face once more.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

or - Sirius and Remus have been trying to kill each other for eight years, but something always seems to be standing in the way.

VAMPIRE SIRIUS AU! this fic is sooo good i see it all over tiktok all the time. i still need to catch up because i haven’t because i’m the worst. i love moonymoment’s fics though and this one is a whole world you need to sink your teeth into (ha!) 

The Player’s Secret by wrappedup

rating: mature. warnings include implied/referenced suicide, depression, suicidal thoughts. 

“So what’s he like? Full of it? Arrogant?”

“Yes,” he says, because he thinks that is a fair assessment. Sirius Black is full of it. He is arrogant. He’s also entitled and needy and smug. He’s talented, reckless, moody, selfish, childish, charming and sweet, and a million different other things Remus is trying to wrap his head around.

Sirius Black is hard work.

Remus Lupin is a successful documentary filmmaker who is assigned to make a fly-on-the-wall documentary featuring Sirius Black - one of the world's most brilliant footballers - as he competes in the European Championship.

All does not go smoothly.

this one is a cutie 

** from white-hot anticipation to cold-blooded fear and back again by drowsyanddazed 

rating: mature

They’re so close. Sirius can feel Remus’ hot, bated breath on his skin. He can see every one of Remus’ honey freckles and the white spiderwebs that course through his scar tissue. He can hear every one of Remus’ sharp inhales and shaky exhales; It’s the only sound he can hear above his own heart racing through his veins.

And his heart is doing that —racing. But it’s not like a thud, thud, thud in his chest or even a soft, fluttering sound like a warm, Irish lilt. The sound is more like a swoosh, like a pendulum swing, jumping from white-hot anticipation to cold-blooded fear and back again.

-or-

Remus is a storm blowing through Sirius’ small town and Sirius is laid out on the waterlogged cobblestone streets waiting to be washed away.

Ravenclaw remus!!! i love how obsessed sirius becomes with remus in this and how he just does not understand it whatsoever. too too cute. i am a sucker for their history so i don’t tend to gravitate towards fics where they’re in other houses but this one i loved too much. 

ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18

rating: mature

Best-selling novelist Remus Lupin, distraught and torn after his relationship of 10 years ends in nothing but doubt and litigation leaves the bustle of New York City, and retreats to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in hopes of reconnecting to his childhood and getting his writing spark back. Sirius Black is a local ceramicist and single parent with a backstory all his own, who happens to frequent the coffee shop Remus grew up studying in. Remus for the first time in his life didn't have a plan when he booked a one way plane ticket--except for maybe the plan to never fall in love again. Except...

A story of simple pleasures, love, and home.

(Modern, Adult Wolfstar AU; set in the states)

Highland fling by picascribit

rating: explicit. warnings include sexual content, outdoor sex, chronic illness

2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.

Carry me away by greyeyedmonster18

rating: mature 

“You know I need you, and that's for sure, you’re just the kind of crazy I’ve been looking for.”

Sirius had devised the perfect plan. Two weeks in London before he started University. Two weeks of bars and football games and time spent out from under his parents gaze. Two weeks without rules or expectations. He concocted the perfect ruse to fool everyone about his whereabouts. And then he met Remus. And suddenly two weeks couldn't have ever been enough time.

(non-magic, AU; Sirius is a sheltered posh boy on his first rebellion, Remus is an attractive stranger who make's him re-think all his plans).

Solntse by lumosinlove

rating: explicit

Sirius, a young Russian billionaire hires Remus, who is working part time as a call boy to make ends meet. Things happen, feelings occur.

** lover, you should’ve come over by dykesiriusblack 

rating: mature. warnings include chronic pain, disability, anxiety, sexual content. 

Sirius Black is a mess. Remus Lupin is new.

It's all quite complicated.

or

The story of Remus and Sirius meeting at age 20, falling in love without meaning to, and not knowing how the fuck to deal with it for far too long.

i love love love these messy boys in this one. another one where i love sirius character arc. i love the pining. i love the complexity of their friendship and navigating feelings. i love the rest of the group. 

** nothing left (but some blood where the body fell) 

rating: mature 

this countryside's burnin' with wolfmen fairies dressed in drag for homicide / they hit and run, plead sanctuary, 'neath the holy stone they hide / they're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection / nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception / and everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood / sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud.

- lost in the flood, bruce springsteen

i’m currently reading this and it’s very very good! not necessarily wolfstar centric but it’s my current read and i can’t get enough of it so i wanted to include it. i love the relationships, the james/remus/sirius/lily dynamics are all so interesting and overall a good long haul marauder fic following them through hogwarts/the first war. 

Source codes series by flourescentgrey

rating: explicit. warnings include dubious ethics/morality, consent issues, sexually transmitted diseases. 

In 1993, Remus Lupin figures out how to escape from Azkaban.

i just finished this. it was very very dark. but it was so good. it kinda fucked me up for a day or so just the extent of the real world parallels, the dark nature of the plot, and the angst angst angst. there are a lot of dubious ethics in this one. that being said it was worth the read and very well written. 

Dear Your Holiness by MollyMaryMarie

rating: explicit. warnings include implied/referenced suicide, childhood trauma, childhood sexual abuse, conversion therapy, eating disorders, racism. 

During the week of his father's funeral, Sirius Black meets an unusual priest and offers to help write Orion Black's eulogy. At the same time, he's started texting a mysterious bass player from a pop-punk band that he accidentally swapped phones with. Eventually, the conversations between the two start to blur together and Sirius has trouble trying to decide which one he's falling for the hardest.

priest!remus. this one was hot and it was fun and i loved it. you need to read. 

Inked by drunkonturpentine

rating: mature

Remus Lupin is doing just fine, thank you: he's a fully functioning adult, business at his flower shop is steady, and he even has a vague approximation of a social life. But when the vacant building next door becomes a tattoo parlor run by the sought-after, larger-than-life Sirius Black, Remus's carefully constructed world is turned on its head, forcing him to reexamine his past, present, and future.

that’s the art of getting by by sarewolf

rating: mature

“What do you want me to do?” Remus says, tiredly. All he wants is to curl up on his bed. Smoke a pack of cigarettes. Get drunk. He can’t stop looking at Harry.

“Remus...” Dumbledore is gentle. Remus hates when he has that tone. Hates that he knows it will hurt. “There is no one else left.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “So you’ll curse the poor thing with a werewolf for a guardian?”

a classic :)

on another ocean (WIP) by colgatebluemintygel

rating: explicit

“You want me to come with you on the holiday that you specifically booked for you and your girlfriend?” “Ex-girlfriend,” Sirius corrects. Remus looks at Sirius searchingly, and once again, several emotions flicker across his face; only this time, his expression lands on something like hope. “Yeah. Okay.” or, Sirius is dumped by his girlfriend and drags his best friend on a holiday across Europe. And somewhere between Berlin clubs, Parisian boulevards, and Transylvanian villages, they fall into each other.

i am simply a girl and a girl who is an absolute SUCKER for pining sirius!!! ugh him being absolutely oblivious to remus’ clear feelings back!!! help me!!! im also a slut for slutty remus i love that the string bean can pull 

** wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel

rating: explicit

Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off host.

or,

Sirius groans, dropping his head back into his hands. “It’s the dough,” he mumbles into the skin of his palms. “It’s the kneading. It’s his hands. They’re obscene.”

Lily laughs. “They are a bit, aren’t they?”

GBBO!!! this fic is pure comfort to me, i love the character dynamics--sirius and lily as hosts have a soft spot in my heart, remus’ chaos and the adorable adorable flirtation between r/s. i love. 

A Bird At Your Door by moongoblin

rating: not rated

A shiver trembles through Sirius, racing up his spine, and he blames the crisp air. Remus leans closer, and his lips are parting-- and Sirius shrieks as a chunk of wet, numbing snow is rubbed into his cheek. He squirms beneath him, twisting his head away, but Remus only presses him harder into the glacial ground.

When Remus sits back, Sirius glowers darkly, using his freed arm to wipe his face with his sleeve. He can't quite remember how to breathe, and Remus is still over him, their legs tangled and bent at odd angles.

"You were a lot nicer to me when you were sick." Sirius says.

"I was weak." Remus smiles, and the warmth from his body fades as he gets to his feet. "Don't get used to it."

Of pub quizzes, old films, Chinese takeaways, broken arms, and impassioned discussions of literature: Remus is confusing, and Sirius is just trying to figure him out.

again. i live for s being obsessed with r. i can’t get enough of it. especially when he can’t figure out quite why. i love the begrudging friendship they form in this one. 

#i will go back and add more commentary later because rn i am lazy :) #<3 #wolfstar #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #sirius black x remus lupin #wolfstar fic #wolfstar fic rec #rec list #fic rec #mauraders fic recs

[merlinsbbeard]

Ain't No Rest for the Sloshed @jilymicrofics Prongs Party 2023. Prompts: party and alcohol, words: 547. Gifted to @uncertainwallflower.

If nothing else, Gryffindor knew how to throw a party. 

The twenty-seventh of March brought platters of ham, cheese, and pickle relish sandwiches, an enchanted record player, and clinks of Witch’s Brew bottles to the common room.

Remus had set an informal—yet persuasive—early curfew for the younger students. He chased the last of them out before the hands on the mantle touched eight; the party was at full bore by nine, and by ten James was firmly on his way to sloshed. 

“Hab birthday, mate.” A drunk hand clapped him on the shoulder. It belonged to Julius Burton in the year above him. James hadn’t had much interaction with him beyond these types of gatherings, where Julius usually ended up asleep under the coffee table. 

“Thanks,” James said, and he was offered another drink. 

He took it. Swigged it. Shuddered. The alcohol set his throat aglow and spun the room—alive with bodies and music. 

“Oi, Prongsy-poo.” Sirius appeared at his shoulder. 

“Pads! I was about to send a search party,” James jibed. Swig.

“Just had to take Wormy up for a spew; those stairs are a mare.” 

They both regarded Peter for a moment. He was teetering on the back of an armchair, his father’s blue tie—‘borrowed’ three years ago and never returned—up around his forehead. Remus, whose feet were on the floor, was failing to talk him out of crowd surfing. 

Sirius sent Peter two thumbs up. James took a swig. 

On the makeshift dance floor, a crowd was dancing and singing along badly to the Seven Sons of Zeus LP. Lily hovered at the frayed edges of the mob, left hand clutching her goblet. 

Swig. “Be right back, Pads.” 

James made his way towards her, dodging the odd flailing limb. 

Her eyes caught sight of him and she smiled hello. “Potter. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Hi—er—Evans. You think?”

The engorged painting of James’ face stared at them from the ceiling ironically. 

She laughed. “Good party.” 

“Thank you, I mean the boys pretty much organised it, so…” he trailed off. 

Lily smiled, lifting her goblet a little closer to her painted lips, eyeing the crowd in front. 

Swig. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” She broke the stalemate. 

James had felt like a broken record stuck in a loop all day. Thank you, thank you, thank you. His furry mind couldn’t think of anything better to say. “Thank you.” 

“Yooou’re welcome.”

James now noticed her slurred speech and slow-blinking eyes. Her rosy complexion, and her goblet that would spill any second, staining the carpet with purple. 

She was standing quite close to him. Closer than normal; close enough for his heart to flutter, his cheeks to rouge, and—

“Lily.” Mary popped up in front of them. “Hi—Potter, happy birthday—Lily, I need you this instant.” 

“MacDonald.” James tipped his goblet at her in acknowledgement. “See you ‘round,” he said to Lily.

“See you—” she managed to get out before she disappeared into the crowd, Mary dragging her by her elbow. 

“Now that—” Remus, who had shown up Merlin-knows-when, made his presence known, “—was a spectacular fail to watch.” 

“Glad you enjoyed the show,” James drawled. He took another swig, and the pair surrendered themselves to the party once more.

read on AO3

#prongs party #jilymicrofics #jily fanfiction #jily #james potter #lily evans #prompted writing #marauders era #jily microfic #gryffindor #gryffindor common room #microfic #unestablished jily #marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders microfic #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #mary macdonald #hogwarts #sixth year #pining james potter #pining lily evans #prongs #padfoot #wormtail #moony #merlinsbbeard #harry potter #merlinsbbeard microfic

[boa-h]

【Severus Snape】 Flower and Snake

“I am a flower elf. When all the flowers wither, it will be my time to leave.”

Severus and you met during a fine day during Spring, he was eleven, and you were… quite old. Although having the power of eternal youth, you are not immortal, no, the day when all of your flowers wither, will be the day of your death.

You are a peach blossom elf, your tree standing near the entrance of the Forbidden Forest. You’ve witnessed too many things that happened in the school named Hogwarts, but you never really cared about any of them, the only wish you have is for your tree to grow healthily.

After your meeting with Severus, you barely have to worry about your tree anymore. That kid really is a potions master, he brews some of the best potions you’ve ever seen.

This day, you saw him again, moving towards your tree, however, with a few Gryffindors on his heels. They used spells to make him float and they threatened to take off his pants. You used a small trick to snap their wands in half, while not showing yourself.

Once they left, you flew down to Severus who landed on his back.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“I didn’t need your help.” He spat.

“I can never understand humans. They are vulnerable, yet refuse to admit it.” You frowned, “But I think you’re okay now, you can stand.”

He looked up at you, and looked back down again. “I should go, class is starting soon.”

“Good luck.” You said, waving him goodbye.

Then he would come find you more often, usually with the girl, Lily. Although they stopped coming together after a year or so.

“He and I… We don’t talk anymore.” Lily told you, “I think he changed, and I don’t like the new him.”

“Humans always change, how strange.” You wondered to yourself.

Then you saw them going in different paths. Lily went with James, and Severus was all alone.

Seven years passed like a train ride. You don’t think you’re ever going to see them again. That was until years later, the start of another school year. You saw him again. Severus Snape.

He has aged a lot since you last saw him. The middle-aged man looked at the girl that remained the same for all these years, and he spoke:

“Lily is dead, along with her husband.”

You visibly paused for a moment, “Oh. Did they?”

He didn’t reply, and you took the silence as a confirmation.

“I see. Poor them, I hope they had a happy life.” You said, “What about you? Why are you back?”

“They’re having me as the potions professor.”

���Oh.” You smiled, “You were always good with potions, I can see why they chose you for that subject.”

He looked at your tree, “Your petals aren’t as pink as they used to be.”

“Huh? They’re not?” You followed his gaze, “I never realized.”

“Your goblin brain wouldn’t even notice until you start fading away.”

Ah, the snake is spitting poison again, you sweatdropped.

“But I have you now! You can take care of it for me, right?”

He didn’t say anything, only giving you a single glance before turning away and walking back into the school grounds.

Then things stayed like that, you welcomed another dozens of first years, and sent goodbye to all the graduates from the seventh years. Until “he” came to Hogwarts, Harry Potter, the boy who lived.

Harry soon found out about your existence as he made spying Severus a habit. But he was a nice boy, along with the 2 of his friends. Although bad things started to happen one by one after his enrollment into the school.

“Please don’t die.” Was the last thing you told Severus after you heard about Dumbledore’s death. And that was the last conversation you ever had with him.

You stared at his limp body on the floor, it was dark, but not dark enough to hide your tears.

If you could speak to him, the first thing you would ask is if everything was worth it, everything he’s done for Lily and her son. But he would probably ignore you and walk away like always. You chuckled.

Walking closer, you hugged him for the first time, giving him a light, gentle kiss. At the same time, the last blossom on your tree has fallen. Your body slowly disappears, along with the slight warmth you left on his lips.

“Romance can appear in many different ways, a withered flower can also prove that someone was loved.”

#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape x y/n #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape imagine #severus snape oneshot #boa-h

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Epilogue

Please welcome our new POV, Merrett Frey.

The road up to Oldstones went twice around the hill before reaching the summit. 

Oh god, not Oldstones!

+.+.+

Snow in autumn in the riverlands, it's unnatural, Merrett thought gloomily. It had not been much of a snow, true; just enough to blanket the ground for a night. Most of it had started melting away as soon as the sun came up. Still, Merrett took it for a bad omen.

Merrett Frey is prophetic.

+.+.+

Between rains, floods, fire, and war, they had lost two harvests and a good part of a third. An early winter would mean famine all across the riverlands. A great many people would go hungry, and some of them would starve. Merrett only hoped he wouldn't be one of them.

That's not the only place.

I wonder if food scarcity will be one of the central reasons Bran is elected. I mean yes, ending the ice threat will be paramount, but he's also ending winter quickly. It's crop time!

+.+.+

Merrett hated the woods, if truth be told, and he hated outlaws even more. "Outlaws stole my life," he had been known to complain when in his cups. He was too often in his cups, his father said, often and loudly. Too true, he thought ruefully. You needed some sort of distinction in the Twins, else they were liable to forget you were alive, but a reputation as the biggest drinker in the castle had done little to enhance his prospects, he'd found. 

Merrett Frey is The Alcoholic Frey.

If all of them could have a little quirky trait like that, allowing me to easily identify them, I would really appreciate it.

+.+.+

I once hoped to be the greatest knight who ever couched a lance. The gods took that away from me. 

Unreliable narrator Merrett Frey.

No. Just no.

+.+.+

Why shouldn't I have a cup of wine from time to time? It helps my headaches. Besides, my wife is a shrew, my father despises me, my children are worthless. What do I have to stay sober for?

Okay, I'm building a little bit of an early opinion on Merrett Frey.

+.+.+

Sometimes his headaches got so bad that it even hurt too much to weep. Then all he could do was rest on his bed in a dark room with a damp cloth over his eyes, and curse his luck and the nameless outlaw who had done this to him.

Merrett Frey is The Chronic Migraines Frey.

See, this is already more information than I care to retain.

+.+.+

He could no wise afford a headache now. If I bring Petyr back home safely, all my luck will change. He had the gold, all he needed to do was climb to the top of Oldstones, meet the bloody outlaws in the ruined castle, and make the exchange. A simple ransom.

There's a familiar name in back-to-back chapters.

+.+.+

His heart was thumping in his chest as if he were some green boy on his first campaign. As if this were the kingswood and it was the old Brotherhood I was going to face, not the lightning lord's sorry lot of brigands.

Does the Kingswood Brotherhood tell me anything about the Brotherhood Without Banners? Can someone spoil that for me, I don't want to put in work.

+.+.+

Black Walder was a man who took what he wanted, even his brother's wife. He'd had Edwyn's wife too, that was common knowledge, Fair Walda had been known to slip into his bed from time to time, and some even said he'd known the seventh Lady Frey a deal better than he should have. Small wonder he refused to marry. Why buy a cow when there were udders all around begging to be milked?

Today I learned the Frey line of succession goes:

Walder Frey -> Ser Stevron (dead) -> Ser Ryman (Ser Stevron's son) -> Edwyn (Ser Ryman's son) -> Black Walder (Ser Ryman's 2nd son) -> Petyr Pimple (Ser Ryman's 3rd son)

It seems to me a Frey civil war is brewing, and I should be paying close attention to Black Walder.

And after Ryman came his own sons, Edwyn and Black Walder, who were even worse. "Fortunately," Lame Lothar once said, "they hate each other even more than they hate us."

+.+.+

Lord Walder would soon turn two-and-ninety. His ears had started to go, his eyes were almost gone, and his gout was so bad that he had to be carried everywhere. He could not possibly last much longer, all his sons agreed. And when he goes, everything will change, and not for the better. His father was querulous and stubborn, with an iron will and a wasp's tongue, but he did believe in taking care of his own. All of his own, even the ones who had displeased and disappointed him. Even the ones whose names he can't remember. Once he was gone, though . . .

Dance of Towers!

+.+.+

Merrett wasn't certain that was fortunate at all, and for that matter Lothar himself might be more dangerous than either of them [Edwyn, Black Walder]. Lord Walder had ordered the slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lothar who had plotted it out with Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songs would be played. Lothar was a very amusing fellow to get drunk with, but Merrett would never be so foolish as to turn his back on him.

Well then, I look forward to the end of his story.

Will Lame Lothar be another Frey faction?

+.+.+

In the Twins, you learned early that only full blood siblings could be trusted, and them not very far.

So, the opposite of House Stark.

+.+.+

It was like to be every son for himself when the old man died, and every daughter as well. 

Oh okay, that's actually what he's going for. House Stark foils. I get it. I'm following. I'm slow, but I'm following.

+.+.+

The gods gave me no gift but birth, and they stinted me there. What good was it to be the son of a rich and powerful House if you were the ninth son? When you took grandsons and great-grandsons into account, Merrett stood a better chance of being chosen High Septon than he did of inheriting the Twins.

GUYS? WHAT IS THAT?

+.+.+

When old Lord Sumner had made him a squire, everyone had assumed he would be Ser Merrett in no more than a few years, but the outlaws of the Kingswood Brotherhood had pissed on those plans. While his fellow squire Jaime Lannister was covering himself in glory, Merrett had first caught the pox from a camp follower, then managed to get captured by a woman, the one called the White Fawn. Lord Sumner had ransomed him back from the outlaws, but in the very next fight he'd been felled by a blow from a mace that had broken his helm and left him insensible for a fortnight. Everyone gave him up for dead, they told him later.

White Fawn? Alrighty.

Merrett Frey is The Concussed Frey. Please just kill him, so I don't have to learn any more.

Speaking of unreliable narrators, Merrett Frey spends the majority of this chapter doing his best Tyrion Lannister impression, and feeling mighty sorry for himself.

I have no luck, he thought bitterly. I have never had any bloody luck. 

In AFFC, we'll learn he was an asshole.

"We were squires together once, at Crakehall." He would not go so far as to claim they had been friends. When Jaime had arrived, Merrett Frey had been the castle bully, lording it over all the younger boys. Then he tried to bully me. "He was . . . very strong." It was the only praise that came to mind. Merrett had been slow and clumsy and stupid, but he was strong. - Jaime IV, AFFC

+.+.+

The final humiliation had been delivered with a smile, when Lame Lothar had summoned him to discuss his role in Roslin's wedding. "We must each play our part, according to our gifts," his half-brother told him. "You shall have one task and one task only, Merrett, but I believe you are well suited to it. I want you to see to it that Greatjon Umber is so bloody drunk that he can hardly stand, let alone fight."

And even that I failed at. He'd cozened the huge northman into drinking enough wine to kill any three normal men, yet after Roslin had been bedded the Greatjon still managed to snatch the sword of the first man to accost him and break his arm in the snatching. It had taken eight of them to get him into chains, and the effort had left two men wounded, one dead, and poor old Ser Leslyn Haigh short half an ear. When he couldn't fight with his hands any longer, Umber had fought with his teeth.

I'm a simp for Greatjon and all his giant northern sons.

+.+.+

The curtain wall of Oldstones had once encircled the brow of the hill like the crown on a king's head. 

Or like a crown in a dead woman's hands.

+.+.+

Merrett found himself shivering, despite his cloak. 

Merrett buddy, that's a dangerous word.

+.+.+

I could just get back on my horse, ride to Oldtown, and drink the gold away. No good ever came from dealing with outlaws. That vile little bitch Wenda had burned a fawn into the cheek of his arse while she had him captive.

The Kingswood Brotherhood had a woman who branded people? Wenda the White Fawn? Is that something?

I don't know what's going on. White Flag. I'm done with this book. Let me leave.

+.+.+

A man in patched, faded greens was sitting crosslegged atop a weathered stone sepulcher, fingering the strings of a woodharp. The music was soft and sad. Merrett knew the song. High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts . . .

"Get off there," Merrett said. "You're sitting on a king."

We're staying on theme! I seem to recall a contentious conversation happening at this stone sepulcher, regarding inheritance and succession.

I also remember somebody getting on that stone.

"Jon would never harm a son of mine."

"No more than Theon Greyjoy would harm Bran or Rickon?"

Grey Wind leapt up atop King Tristifer's crypt, his teeth bared. Robb's own face was cold. - Catelyn V, ASOS

Was that a bad omen? I didn't read it like that, but maybe.

+.+.+

When he turned, they were all around him; an ill-favored gaggle of leathery old men and smooth-cheeked lads younger than Petyr Pimple, the lot of them clad in roughspun rags, boiled leather, and bits of dead men's armor. There was one woman with them, bundled up in a hooded cloak three times too big for her.

Jenny?

+.+.+

"Where's our gold?"

"In my saddlebag. A hundred golden dragons." Merrett cleared his throat. "You'll get it when I see that Petyr—"

You're telling me the price for Petyr Pimple is the same price the crown set for Sansa Stark?

That's ridiculous. I'm sorry, I can't let this go.

+.+.+

"You have your gold," he said. "Give me my nephew, and I'll be gone." Petyr was actually more a great half-nephew, but there was no need to go into that.

Can someone please confirm that's not about anyone else in the story?

+.+.+

Petyr Pimple was hanging from the limb of an oak, a noose tight around his long thin neck. His eyes bulged from a black face, staring down at Merrett accusingly. 

Dead Petyrs in back-to-back chapters!

Or at least the promise of dead Petyrs.

+.+.+

An aurochs was thundering through Merrett's head. Mother have mercy, he thought. 

She's all out of that.

+.+.+

The one-eyed outlaw came forward with a long coil of hempen rope. He looped one end around Merrett's neck, pulled it tight, and tied a hard knot under his ear. The other end he threw over the limb of the oak. The big man in the yellow cloak caught it.

"What are you doing?" Merrett knew how stupid that sounded, but he could not believe what was happening, even then. "You'd never dare hang a Frey."

Yellow cloak laughed. "That other one, the pimply boy, he said the same thing."

He doesn't mean it. He cannot mean it. "My father will pay you. I'm worth a good ransom, more than Petyr, twice as much."

Farewell Concussed, Alcoholic, Chronic Migraines Frey.

Merrett Frey is kind of a nobody, but she did manage to get someone a lot higher in the line of succession.

I'm still hopeless with all things Frey, but the least I can do is remember the names Walder -> Ser Ryman -> Edwyn -> Black Walder.

And Lothar. I won't forget Lame Lothar.

+.+.+

"Well, as it happens, we're looking for a dog that ran away."

"A dog?" Merrett was lost. "What kind of dog?"

"He answers to the name Sandor Clegane. Thoros says he was making for the Twins. We found the ferrymen who took him across the Trident, and the poor sod he robbed on the kingsroad. Did you see him at the wedding, perchance?"

[...]

"He would have had a child with him," said the singer. "A skinny girl, about ten. Or perhaps a boy the same age."

The good news is, if he ever stops digging holes (he won't), he'll have this creature hunting him.

Gosh, I forgot we're straight up told she's looking for Arya. Jon and Sansa aren't the only two people destined to cross paths.

+.+.+

"Please." The last of Merrett's courage was running down his leg. 

Chett!

+.+.+

"I've done you no harm. I brought the gold, the way you said. I answered your question. I have children."

"That Young Wolf never will," said the one-eyed outlaw.

Merrett could hardly think for the pounding in his head. 

Fine, I'm starting to feel bad for him.

The drums were pounding, pounding, pounding, and her head with them. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

x

A dance was the last thing she needed, the way her head was throbbing. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

Haha, just kidding!

+.+.+

"Not murder." His voice was shrill. "It was vengeance, we had a right to our vengeance. It was war. Aegon, we called him Jinglebell, a poor lackwit never hurt anyone, Lady Stark cut his throat. We lost half a hundred men in the camps. Ser Garse Goodbrook, Kyra's husband, and Ser Tytos, Jared's son . . . someone smashed his head in with an axe . . . Stark's direwolf killed four of our wolfhounds and tore the kennelmaster's arm off his shoulder, even after we'd filled him full of quarrels . . ."

"So you sewed his head on Robb Stark's neck after both o' them were dead," said yellow cloak.

I hate that she knows that happened. :(

+.+.+

"They say Lord Beric always gives a man a trial, that he won't kill a man unless something's proved against him. You can't prove anything against me. The Red Wedding was my father's work, and Ryman's and Lord Bolton's. Lothar rigged the tents to collapse and put the crossbowmen in the gallery with the musicians, Bastard Walder led the attack on the camps . . . they're the ones you want, not me, I only drank some wine . . . you have no witness."

Don't give her a list! Don't give her names!

Does she say a prayer every night?

+.+.+

"As it happens, you're wrong there." The singer turned to the hooded woman. "Milady?"

The outlaws parted as she came forward, saying no word. When she lowered her hood, something tightened inside Merrett's chest, and for a moment he could not breathe. No. No, I saw her die. She was dead for a day and night before they stripped her naked and threw her body in the river. Raymund opened her throat from ear to ear. She was dead.

Chett run, it's a fire wight!

+.+.+

Her cloak and collar hid the gash his brother's blade had made, but her face was even worse than he remembered. The flesh had gone pudding soft in the water and turned the color of curdled milk. Half her hair was gone and the rest had turned as white and brittle as a crone's. Beneath her ravaged scalp, her face was shredded skin and black blood where she had raked herself with her nails. But her eyes were the most terrible thing. Her eyes saw him, and they hated.

My heart weeps for the Stark child that has to come face-to-face with this.

This... death.

+.+.+

"She don't speak," said the big man in the yellow cloak. "You bloody bastards cut her throat too deep for that. But she remembers." He turned to the dead woman and said, "What do you say, m'lady? Was he part of it?"

Lady Catelyn's eyes never left him. She nodded.

Merrett Frey opened his mouth to plead, but the noose choked off his words. His feet left the ground, the rope cutting deep into the soft flesh beneath his chin. Up into the air he jerked, kicking and twisting, up and up and up.

One thing I'm not going to do is tell you which Freys deserve to live, and which Freys deserve to die.

Because I can't tell them apart.

Final thoughts:

Friends,

WE DID IT!

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #epilogue

[draguta]

.a court of ash and smoke | character profiles.

🩸 read a court of ash and smoke here 🩸

🩸 Y/N 🩸

Y/N stumbles into the Spring Court from pure chance, or is it fate that leads her to the wall and the rolling hills of Tamlin's lands? Taken in by the High Lord and treated as his sister, everything changes when she is taken Under the Mountain and brought before Amarantha, who forces her to service her court members for no other reason but to anger Tamlin. But when Y/N finds herself in possession of a dark and unruly magic, she must decide whether to let that magic consume her completely in order to protect those she loves, or whether she should learn to control it, even if it means betraying everyone she holds dear, including Lucien, the only male that showed her any kindness Under the Mountain.

🩸 Lucien Vanserra 🩸

Lucien Vanserra, seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, emissary to the Spring Court, trusted advisor to High Lord Tamlin. As the courts of Prythian begin to fall to the reign of Amarantha, self-titled High Queen, Lucien must protect Y/N at all costs, even if it means losing the trust of his closest friend. But when that protection becomes more than a simple task, but rather something close to caring, even for the female he had once resented so much, how will he be able to ensure her safety Under the Mountain? Especially when Amarantha seems so insistent on using them against each other.

🩸 Tamlin 🩸

Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court; sweet and caring, in the beginning. When he finds Y/N wandering around on his grounds, injured and scared, he takes her in and cares for her like his sister. But when Y/N is taken Under the Mountain, Tamlin must learn to set aside his own priorities in order to help her as best he can. When Feyre is captured, Tamlin is forced to learn how to accept the torture that he sees before him, but will it change him forever in the darkest of ways?

🩸 Rhysand 🩸

Trapped Under the Mountain at Amarantha's will for fifty years, Rhysand finally sees hope in the arrival of two mortal females: Y/N and Feyre. But with Amarantha's dastardly plan brewing, will Rhysand be able to help the females, and allow them to see him without the mask of villain that he's been wearing for so long? Or will the wicked ways that he has been forced to follow for so many decades begin to rub off on him?

🩸 Feyre Archeron 🩸

Caught up in Amarantha's terrible scheme, Feyre finds herself trapped Under the Mountain, providing the Spring Court and all of Amarantha's other prisoners their only possible chance at escape. Will she be able to figure out Amarantha's riddle and complete her trials in order to save those she loves? Or will her own darkness and trauma overcome her and leave her broken?

🩸 Amarantha 🩸

Amarantha, self-titled High Queen of Prythian, holds an unyielding hatred for mortals and humans alike. When two seemingly stumble Under the Mountain and into her court, she sees them as nothing more than pawns to use in her wicked games. Will she be defeated? Will these two mortals find a way to overthrow her power and protect those that she threatened and trapped - those that they love?

#ACOTAR #ACOTAR fanfiction #ACOTAR fanfic #Lucien Vanserra #Lucien #Lucien ACOTAR #Lucien Vanserra fanfiction #Lucien Vanserra fanfic #Lucien fanfiction #Lucien fanfic #Lucien x reader #Lucien Vanserra x reader #Lucien x you #Lucien Vanserra x you #Lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra x y/n #rhysand #feyre #tamlin #elain #nesta #cassian #mor #azriel #amren #amarantha #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

[therecordchanger62279]

MY TOP 200 FAVORITE ALBUMS OF ALL-TIME

  1. All Things Must Pass – George Harrison (1970)

  2. Close To The Edge – Yes (1972)

  3. Revolver (UK) – The Beatles (1966)

  4. The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle - Bruce Springsteen (1973)

  5. Blood On The Tracks – Bob Dylan (1975)

  6. Sticky Fingers – The Rolling Stones (1971)

  7. The Dark Side of The Moon – Pink Floyd (1973)

  8. L.A. Woman – The Doors (1971)

  9. Help (UK) – The Beatles (1965)

10. Pet Sounds – The Beach Boys (1966)

11. Surrealistic Pillow – Jefferson Airplane (1967)

12. The Who By Numbers – The Who (1975)

13. A Tribute To Jack Johnson – Miles Davis (1971)

14. Kind of Blue – Miles Davis (1959)

15. Bitches Brew – Miles Davis (1970)

16. A Hard Day’s Night (UK) – The Beatles (1964)

17. Aftermath – The Rolling Stones (1966)

18. That’s Why God Made The Radio – The Beach Boys (2012)

19. The Division Bell – Pink Floyd (1994)

20. III – Led Zeppelin (1970)

21. A1A – Jimmy Buffet (1974)

22. Pat Metheny Group (1978)

23. Heavy Weather – Weather Report (1977)

24. Surf’s Up – The Beach Boys (1971)

25. Highway 61 Revisited – Bob Dylan (1965)

26. Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon & Garfunkel (1970)

27. Sweet Baby James – James Taylor (1970)

28. The Hissing of Summer Lawns – Joni Mitchell (1975)

29. Layla – Derek & The Dominos (1970)

30. Exile On Main St. – The Rolling Stones (1972)

31. Live At Fillmore East – The Allman Brother Band (1971)

32. Born To Run – Bruce Springsteen (1975)

33. The Doors (1967)

34. Astral Weeks – Van Morrison (1969)

35. Rust Never Sleeps – Neil Young & Crazy Horse (1979)

36. Let It Bleed – The Rolling Stones (1969)

37. The Rolling Stones Now! – The Rolling Stones (1965)

38. Abbey Road – The Beatles (1969)

39. On The Road To Freedom – Alvin Lee & Mylon LeFevre (1973)

40. The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967)

41. The Complete Africa Brass Sessions – John Coltrane (1961/1995)

42. Teaser & The Firecat – Cat Stevens (1971)

43. Tea For The Tillerman – Cat Stevens (1970)

44. Holland – The Beach Boys (1973)

45. Beggar’s Banquet – The Rolling Stones (1968)

46. Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, Jones, Ltd. – The Monkees (1967)

47. Aja – Steely Dan (1977)

48. Seventh Sojourn – Moody Blues (1972)

49. Forever Changes – Love (1967)

50. (Untitled) (4th) – Led Zeppelin (1971)

51. My Favorite Things – John Coltrane (1961)

52. Desperado – Eagles (1973)

53. Heartbreaker – Free (1972)

54. Willy & The Poor Boys – Creedence Clearwater Revival (1969)

55. Days of Future Passed – Moody Blues (1967)

56. Meet The Beatles – The Beatles (1964)

57. Can’t Buy A Thrill – Steely Dan (1972)

58. Setting Sons – The Jam (1979)

59. The Captain & Me – Doobie Brothers (1973)

60. Beautiful Vision – Van Morrison (1982)

61. Making Movies – Dire Straits (1980)

62. The Dream of the Blue Turtles – Sting (1985)

63. One Fair Summer Evening – Nanci Griffith (1988)

64. The Basement Tapes – Bob Dylan & The Band (1975)

65. Who’s Next – The Who (1971)

66. The Beatles’ Second Album – The Beatles (1964)

67. Peter Gabriel (3rd/Melt) (1980)

68. The Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys – Traffic (1971)

69. Beatles ’65 – The Beatles (1964)

70. Idlewild South – Allman Brothers Band (1970)

71. The Allman Brothers Band (1969)

72. …Presenting The Fabulous Ronettes featuring Veronica – The Ronettes (1964)

73. Chuck Berry Is On Top – Chuck Berry (1959)

74. Wheels of Fire – Cream (1968)

75. The Way It Is – Bruce Hornsby & The Range (1986)

76. Young Americans – David Bowie (1974)

77. First Circle – Pat Metheny Group (1984)

78. Pretzel Logic – Steely Dan (1974)

79. Visions of the Emerald Beyond – Mahavishnu Orchestra (1975)

80. Made in Japan – Deep Purple (1973)

81. Will O’ The Wisp – Leon Russell (1975)

82. 461 Ocean Boulevard – Eric Clapton (1974)

83. Band On The Run – Paul McCartney & Wings (1973)

84. Manassas – Stephen Stills & Manassas (1972)

85. It’s Only Rock ‘N’ Roll – The Rolling Stones (1974)

86. Green River – Creedence Clearwater Revival (1969)

87. Heroes – David Bowie (1977)

88. The Royal Scam – Steely Dan (1976)

89. Something/Anything? – Todd Rundgren (1972)

90. In The Court of the Crimson King – King Crimson (1969)

 91. Strange Days – The Doors (1967)

 92. Blow By Blow – Jeff Beck (1975)

 93. Where Have I Known You Before – Return To Forever (1974)

 94. Yessongs – Yes (1973)

 95. Rock ‘N’ Roll Animal – Lou Reed (1974)

 96. Selling England By The Pound – Genesis (1973)

 97. Out of Our Heads (U.S.) – The Rolling Stones (1965)

 98. Music From Big Pink – The Band (1968)

 99. What’s Goin’ On – Marvin Gaye (1971)

100. On The Border – Eagles (1974)

101. Afro Blue Impressions – John Coltrane (1963/1977)

102. Some Girls – The Rolling Stones (1978)

103. Diesel and Dust – Midnight Oil (1987)*

104. Howlin’ Wind – Graham Parker & The Rumour (1976)

105. Mysterious Traveler – Weather Report (1974)

106. Blues From Big Bill’s Copacabana – Various (1968)*

107. Voice of America – Little Steven (1984)

108. Desire – Bob Dylan (1976)

109. Modern Times – Jefferson Starship (1981)*

110. Blow Your Cool – Hoodoo Gurus (1987)

111. Sound Affects – The Jam (1980)

112. Gaucho – Steely Dan (1980)*

113. Caravanserai – Santana (1972)*

114. Odessey & Oracle – The Zombies (1968)

115. Black Market – Weather Report (1976)

116. Ram – Paul & Linda McCartney (1971)

117. Heart Like A Wheel – Linda Ronstadt (1974)

118. 12X5 – The Rolling Stones (1964)

119. Robbie Robertson (1987)

120. Other Voices, Other Rooms – Nanci Griffith (1993)

121. In Concert: Live At Philharmonic Hall – Miles Davis (1973)

122. Yesterday’s Wine – Willie Nelson (1971)*

123. One Live Badger – Badger (1972)

124. Vol. 4 – Black Sabbath (1972)

125. Santana (1969)

126. Valley Hi – Ian Matthews (1973)

127. Bridge of Sighs – Robin Trower (1974)

128. Dusty In Memphis – Dusty Springfield (1969)

129. Fifth Dimension – The Byrds (1966)

130. Dreaming My Dreams – Waylon Jennings (1975)

131. After The Gold Rush – Neil Young (1970)

132. Pirates – Rickie Lee Jones (1981)

133. Baron Von Tollbooth & The Chrome Nun – Paul Kantner, Grace Slick & David Freiberg (1973)*

134. Rickie Lee Jones (1979)

135. Bare Trees – Fleetwood Mac (1972)

136. McCartney – Paul McCartney (1970)

137. Physical Graffiti – Led Zeppelin (1975)

138. Rock ‘N’ Roll – John Lennon (1975)

139. Benefit – Jethro Tull (1970)

140. The Pretender – Jackson Browne (1976)

141. Madman Across The Water – Elton John (1971)

142. Countdown To Ecstasy – Steely Dan (1973)*

143. Abraxas – Santana (1970)*

144. Sunflower – The Beach Boys (1970)

145. Tattoo – Rory Gallagher (1973)

146. Trilogy – Emerson, Lake & Palmer (1972)

147. Master of Reality – Black Sabbath (1971)

148. Hard Promises – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers (1981)

149. A New World Record – Electric Light Orchestra (1976)

150. Blue and Lonesome – The Rolling Stones (2016)

151. Don’t Cry Now – Linda Ronstadt (1973)

152. We’re An American Band – Grand Funk Railroad (1973)

153. Ghost In the Machine – The Police (1981)

154. Spitfire – Jefferson Starship (1976)*

155. You Broke My Heart So I Busted Your Jaw – Spooky Tooth (1972)

156. Brain Salad Surgery – Emerson, Lake & Palmer (1973)

157. Aladdin Sane – David Bowie (1973)

158. Quadrophenia – The Who (1973)

159. Chicago Transit Authority – Chicago (1969)*

160. Stand Up – Jethro Tull (1969)

161. 80/81 – Pat Metheny (1980)

162. Live At The Star Club – The Beatles (1962/1977)*

163. Moving Pictures – Rush (1981)

164. Eat A Peach – The Allman Brothers Band (1972)

165. Aqualung – Jethro Tull (1971)

166. Red – King Crimson (1974)

167. Bad Co. – Bad Company (1974)

168. Orange Crate Art – Brian Wilson & Van Dyke Parks (1995)

169. Moondance – Van Morrison (1970)

170. Shoot Out At The Fantasy Factory – Traffic (1973)

171. On The Beach – Neil Young (1974)

172. Tupelo Honey – Van Morrison (1971)

173. Electric Ladyland – Jimi Hendrix (1968)

174. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road – Elton John (1973)

175. Led Zeppelin (1st) (1969)

176. Live – Bob Marley & The Wailers (1975)

177. Jaco – Jaco Pastorius (1976)*

178. Hard Again – Muddy Waters (1977)

179. Frampton – Peter Frampton (1975)*

180. Prisoner In Disguise – Linda Ronstadt (1975)

181. El Mocambo 1977 – The Rolling Stones (1977/2022)*

182. Discipline – King Crimson (1981)

183. Learning To Crawl – Pretenders (1984)

184. Never Mind The Bollocks, Here’s The Sex Pistols – Sex Pistols (1977)

185. Go For Your Guns – Isley Brothers (1977)

186. Mingus – Joni Mitchell (1979)

187. FM/Live – Climax Blues Band (1973)

188. Hearts of Stone – Southside Johnny & The Asbury Jukes (1978)

189. Houses of the Holy – Led Zeppelin (1973)

190. Wired – Jeff Beck (1976)

191. Document – R.E.M. (1987)*

192. Black & Blue – The Rolling Stones (1976)*

193. The Joshua Tree – U2 (1987)

194. Ambient 1: Music For Airports – Brian Eno (1978)*

195. Blonde On Blonde – Bob Dylan (1966)

196. The Live Adventures of Mike Bloomfield & Al Kooper (1969)*

197. Sign O’ the Times – Prince (1987)

198. All Mod Cons – The Jam (1978)

199. Low – David Bowie (1977)

200. Loaded – The Velvet Underground (1970)*

Titles with an asterisk are new additions since the 2014 revision.

[once-was-muses]

Quick guide to (some of) Antonio's relatives

The Angels are genderless but use masculine pronouns (except for Rafael, they use neutral pronouns only.) Cassiel is Antonio's grandfather, Avokadus is Antonio's older half-brother, and the rest are Cassiel's siblings.

Cassiel

The Archangel of Temperance, Speed, Tears, Solitude, and Duality. The first of God's original trio of angels. Unlike his younger siblings, Cassiel stayed close to their Creator, learning from Them and overseeing Their creation of yet more angels. He was there when Samael whispered the first lie, when Azrael stole a piece of Heaven, when the first Falls happened, so on and so forth. Over time, Cassiel drew further into himself, standing watch without really seeing as things continued to spiral, much like his Creator. In an attempt to feel something, he copied God's actions and created an angel himself, his own child. However, this child was different from his siblings, and spent much of their time on Earth rather than Heaven. This peculiar angel ultimately had two sons, Avokadus and later Antonio. But Cassiel's withdrawn complacency continued- Until the essence of his creation returned to him damaged, just shreds of what they once were and as dead as a celestial thing can be. With some poking through the remnants, Cassiel began to suspect an upheaval occurring in Hell, possibly a plan of revolt. He took it upon himself to bring his two grandsons together and guide them in putting a stop to the potential war before it even started.

Azreal Death

Once an Archangel, the second of the original three, he was much more concerned with responsibility and purpose than his siblings. He aided in the creation of humanity, and thus charged with the ends of their lives; when one died, it's Death that would ease the transition. But Death was ostracized by his siblings for the duties given to him by their Creator, whispers of malicious intent spreading from fearful lips. Independent of his sibling Samael, Death left Heaven on his own and later created himself three younger "brothers" to help him; first Pestilence, then Famine, then War. Despite his bitterness and resentment for his family, Death holds no ill will towards humans, instead employing the same compassion and comfort in his guiding as he always has- if a bit more stiff and stony nowadays.

Samael Lucifer

The youngest of the original trio of angels, and seemingly the most favored. While his older siblings kept mostly to themselves, Lucifer buzzed around the Earth and Heavens, investigating every single thing in existence. He inquired about each of them as well, entertaining their Creator. But as more angel were made, the less attention and clear expressions of love he got from Them. When humans were at last created, in Their image no less, Lucifer expressed his displeasure by telling a younger angel their Creator intended to replace them. He convinced a fair number that Azrael had been chosen to cull them when the time came, and that they had no chance at survival but to rebel with him, leading to the Falls. After this, Lucifer appointed six of his fallen brethren as princes, himself their seventh and leader. However, he has since disappeared from his throne, no sign of him being found anywhere...

Uriel

Archangel of Wisdom, Patience, Retribution, Clarity, and Secrets. He was amongst the second, far larger group of angels created after Cassiel, Azrael, and Samael. Ever shrewd and keenly observant, it was Uriel that warned his siblings against the manipulative lies of the trio's youngest and reported the brewing rebellion. He was also the only sibling Azrael directly attacked before defecting, temporarily blinding the otherwise astute sentry so as to escape with a stolen piece of Heaven. Furthermore, Uriel confirmed the infernal element in the murder of Cassiel's child, and informed him where to find his grandsons.

Raphael

Archangel of Mercy, Justice, Healing, Kindness, Hope, and Insanity. Ever since the Falls, Raphael has avoided Heaven as much as they can manage, choosing instead to walk the Earth in the guise of humankind. As such, much of their connection with their siblings and Creator have diminished; though they retain their abilities of miracles, only an omnipotent thing could determine their celestial nature without them divulging their identity. This is just as well, as they quite prefer not being recognized.

Pestilence

Death's first "brother," he possesses the arrogance of an older sibling, the desire for attention of a younger sibling, and the volatile sense of inferiority of a middle child. The scent of smoke hangs in the air around him like a cloak, some form of nicotine on him at all times- even immortal beings aren't immune to addictions. He's unpredictable, constantly evolving, more wicked than any serpent to ever slither the Earth. While he was created to help Death usher souls along to the afterlife, Pestilence has developed a taste for extinguishing human life himself, War and Famine following his example. But whereas his younger brothers are content to senselessly ravage whole areas, Pestilence much prefers to play with his prey, schmoozing many and using them to unknowingly spread his many creations.

Avokadus

With Antonio's mother being his as well, Avokadus is an angel halfbreed himself- only his other parent is an unidentified Prince of Hell. Six of the Seven Princes have tormented him with claims that they're his sire, but he staunchly refuses to believe any of them, rather suspecting the silent Lucifer. His mother kept hin isolated from the other angels for the first couple centuries of his life, until a demon- magcked into and out of Heaven- tore her to shreds. Avokadus greatly struggles with teamwork, and often butts heads with his younger half-brother, but he also considers he and Cassiel to be the only real family he has. As such, he's fiercely loyal to them- even if he shows it in questionable ways.

#Offered Insight : headcanons #The Inventor's Son : Antonio da Vinci #Such is Predestined : queue tag #[ this took. 5ever to write up and for No Reason ] #[ I'm talking 5 Whole Days when it really shouldn't have ]

[jadenoryuu]

Ho postato 2.629 volte nel 2022

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#danielle meanwhile has never actually experienced the holidays before so shes having a blast making her excitement everyone elses problem

I miei post migliori nel 2022:

#5

Today with Grafaiai. (◉ w ◉)

(I still need to check the tag, but since Devil works fast but fanartists work faster, I'm confident that there already are. (≧∇≦) )

67 note - Postate 2 settembre 2022

#4

Asking for a friend:

If Danny was bitten by a radioactive spider (and so didn't get any ghost powers), what would his hero name be?

Because I can't vision him using "Spiderman". 🤔🤔

86 note - Postate 18 gennaio 2022

#3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types, DCU Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Bruce Wayne Characters: Danny Fenton, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Clark Kent, Guardians of the Universe (DCU), Arthur Curry (DCU), Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Mention of Freakshow, Batfamily (DCU), Batcave (DCU), Biological Parent Bruce Wayne, Fertility Clinic, Family Fluff, father-son bonding, ghost prince Danny, Green Lantern Rings (DCU), Episode: s02e19-20 Reality Trip, (mentioned) - Freeform, Attempt at Humor, Hurt/Comfort Series: Part 6 of The Dragon's Danuary Xover 2022 Summary:

When Danny popped up unannounced at the Wayne Manor, Bruce knew that trouble was brewing at the horizon. What he couldn't have imagined was that his second youngest child would bring along something that would put the boy on the radar of an immortal alien race. Bruce Wayne was still learning "how to dad" a little more each day, but if they called him, he would always answer.

@amorpho I was almost late! Pokémon Legends: Arceus came out and along with my job, they made me lose the sense of time... (╥﹏╥)

(This is also why Danuary Seventh Day will be also delayed, I'm still a bit behind with that...)

Anyway, this one-shot heavily leaned on the prompt of this post (shout out to @five-rivers for reblogging it, making me remember the original idea and also salvage this crossover with their addition), but I definitely had fun with this story!

Maybe one day, after I read the Batfam webcomic, I could continue this, what do you think?

Wish me good luck for tomorrow, my Muse needs some prodding!

(๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

97 note - Postate 28 gennaio 2022

#2

So here I am, bored out of my mind at work, and my brain travels across the ether of zoning out...

And a Crossover idea stuck!

So, do you Phans remember that animated movie that came out in 2009 called "Astroboy"?

[I mean this one.]

It was my first contact with the Astro Boy series and while I never explored the latter further, the movie amazed me and made me care (read: fear, empathize and ache) for the protagonist in ways that any other movie couldn't along with the first "How to Train your Dragon". (That's an accomplishment since after reading/watching many things I unfortunately became somewhat desensitized to plots in general. (╥﹏╥))

That being said, let's get back to the topic:

You all know how the movie premise is that Astro is the robotic replica of Toby, the professor's dead son?

What if we spin a bit of Phandom in it? <(꒪꒳꒪)>

There could be three ways to do this:

The first two have more or less the same trope = (post-movie) Natural Portal Shenanigans make either Danny or Astro cross dimension and Astro has Toby's ghost following him along for fun and only Danny can see him because he's an halfa.

The third take is the Fusion AU =

Danny as Toby dies in the same canonical accident, but the two cores instead of blue and red are green and pink/magenta ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

Phantom as Astro. In this Danny and Phantom are two different persons, but instead of "normal" superpowers/weapons, he's half-robot/half-ectoplasm entity (it's different than being a ghost, I still stan that ghosts are the post-mortem manifestation of the deceased's soul and you can pry this from my specter's cold hands) (Meaning: Phantom is not Danny's ghost in this).

Jack and Maddie as Dr. Tenma. They form an amazing team and something so trivial as an absentee single parent in Astro Boy canon won't stop me.

Frostbite as Dr. Elefun. I contemplated briefly Clockwork for this part, but the "supportive wise mentor" fit better with our favorite Yeti than with our cryptid stopwatch, not counting that he has already medical and technological knowledge in DP.

Jazz as Orrin (the robot housekeeper)? This one doesn't fit as well as the rest of the cast, so maybe there's no Jazz or she's in another city as studying-abroad-big-sister.

Sam as Cora. Rebellious girl with wealthy parents, who fights for her rights? Sign her in. (Not counting the teased romance between her and Astro/Phantom, that's only a plus.)

Tucker as "himself" (AKA not any particular role, just one of the orphans of the Surface). Techno-Geek that repairs robots for the Robot Fights and bonds spectacularly with Phantom.

Dani as ZOG. I know it's strange, but hear me out: ZOG was revived by Astro's core and it still keeps part of that energy, making it virtually both Astro's sibling and child! Ring a bell? Plus ZOG is a little shit when it's able to, so it's only a natural decision, really! (≧∇≦)

Cujo as Trashcan. Yep, the trashcan dog deserves the puppy counterpart.

Now that should be everyone! ...Or should it? Oh! Right! The Villains:

Freakshow as Hamegg. Who would be a better showman/ringleader than the insane circus owner who controls robots ghosts?

Vlad Masters as President Stone. Of course it was going to be him. Old friend of the protagonist's father? Check. Power hungry? Check. Wants the protagonist for one of his machinations? Triple check.

Plasmius as Peacekeeper. Pink/Magenta core explained! Who would have thought about that? (≧∇≦)

Skulker as General Heckler. Vlad's second in command and enforcer of his commands, it feels only natural.

There are so many other characters to assign, though at the moment I can't come up with what to do with the robot trio of the Robot Revolutionary Front or Valerie Gray, but this discourse made me want to re-watch the movie, so I'll probably add something tomorrow.

What do you Phans think? Is this worth considering for Danuary? (≧∇≦)

109 note - Postate 13 gennaio 2022

Il mio post numero 1 del 2022

You know what?

Here it's half-past midnight of April 3rd.

I'll cross-stitch your Danno.

473 note - Postate 3 aprile 2022

Guarda ora l'Analisi del tuo anno 2022 di Tumblr →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Well #I should have expected the Danno as first #And the fact that I have so many queues #this is the year I discovered them after all #Last day of the year so time for my Review!

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#Cats News

[who-is-muses]

Quick guide to (some of) Antonio's relatives

The Angels are genderless but use masculine pronouns (except for Rafael, they use neutral pronouns only.) Cassiel is Antonio's grandfather, Avokadus is Antonio's older half-brother, and the rest are Cassiel's siblings.

Cassiel

The Archangel of Temperance, Speed, Tears, Solitude, and Duality. The first of God's original trio of angels. Unlike his younger siblings, Cassiel stayed close to their Creator, learning from Them and overseeing Their creation of yet more angels. He was there when Samael whispered the first lie, when Azrael stole a piece of Heaven, when the first Falls happened, so on and so forth. Over time, Cassiel drew further into himself, standing watch without really seeing as things continued to spiral, much like his Creator. In an attempt to feel something, he copied God's actions and created an angel himself, his own child. However, this child was different from his siblings, and spent much of their time on Earth rather than Heaven. This peculiar angel ultimately had two sons, Avokadus and later Antonio. But Cassiel's withdrawn complacency continued- Until the essence of his creation returned to him damaged, just shreds of what they once were and as dead as a celestial thing can be. With some poking through the remnants, Cassiel began to suspect an upheaval occurring in Hell, possibly a plan of revolt. He took it upon himself to bring his two grandsons together and guide them in putting a stop to the potential war before it even started.

Azreal Death

Once an Archangel, the second of the original three, he was much more concerned with responsibility and purpose than his siblings. He aided in the creation of humanity, and thus charged with the ends of their lives; when one died, it's Death that would ease the transition. But Death was ostracized by his siblings for the duties given to him by their Creator, whispers of malicious intent spreading from fearful lips. Independent of his sibling Samael, Death left Heaven on his own and later created himself three younger "brothers" to help him; first Pestilence, then Famine, then War. Despite his bitterness and resentment for his family, Death holds no ill will towards humans, instead employing the same compassion and comfort in his guiding as he always has- if a bit more stiff and stony nowadays.

Samael Lucifer

The youngest of the original trio of angels, and seemingly the most favored. While his older siblings kept mostly to themselves, Lucifer buzzed around the Earth and Heavens, investigating every single thing in existence. He inquired about each of them as well, entertaining their Creator. But as more angel were made, the less attention and clear expressions of love he got from Them. When humans were at last created, in Their image no less, Lucifer expressed his displeasure by telling a younger angel their Creator intended to replace them. He convinced a fair number that Azrael had been chosen to cull them when the time came, and that they had no chance at survival but to rebel with him, leading to the Falls. After this, Lucifer appointed six of his fallen brethren as princes, himself their seventh and leader. However, he has since disappeared from his throne, no sign of him being found anywhere...

Uriel

Archangel of Wisdom, Patience, Retribution, Clarity, and Secrets. He was amongst the second, far larger group of angels created after Cassiel, Azrael, and Samael. Ever shrewd and keenly observant, it was Uriel that warned his siblings against the manipulative lies of the trio's youngest and reported the brewing rebellion. He was also the only sibling Azrael directly attacked before defecting, temporarily blinding the otherwise astute sentry so as to escape with a stolen piece of Heaven. Furthermore, Uriel confirmed the infernal element in the murder of Cassiel's child, and informed him where to find his grandsons.

Archangel of Mercy, Justice, Healing, Kindness, Hope, and Insanity. Ever since the Falls, Raphael has avoided Heaven as much as they can manage, choosing instead to walk the Earth in the guise of humankind. As such, much of their connection with their siblings and Creator have diminished; though they retain their abilities of miracles, only an omnipotent thing could determine their celestial nature without them divulging their identity. This is just as well, as they quite prefer not being recognized.

Pestilence

Death's first "brother," he possesses the arrogance of an older sibling, the desire for attention of a younger sibling, and the volatile sense of inferiority of a middle child. The scent of smoke hangs in the air around him like a cloak, some form of nicotine on him at all times- even immortal beings aren't immune to addictions. He's unpredictable, constantly evolving, more wicked than any serpent to ever slither the Earth. While he was created to help Death usher souls along to the afterlife, Pestilence has developed a taste for extinguishing human life himself, War and Famine following his example. But whereas his younger brothers are content to senselessly ravage whole areas, Pestilence much prefers to play with his prey, schmoozing many and using them to unknowingly spread his many creations.

Avokadus

With Antonio's mother being his as well, Avokadus is an angel halfbreed himself- only his other parent is an unidentified Prince of Hell. Six of the Seven Princes have tormented him with claims that they're his sire, but he staunchly refuses to believe any of them, rather suspecting the silent Lucifer. His mother kept hin isolated from the other angels for the first couple centuries of his life, until a demon- magcked into and out of Heaven- tore her to shreds. Avokadus greatly struggles with teamwork, and often butts heads with his younger half-brother, but he also considers he and Cassiel to be the only real family he has. As such, he's fiercely loyal to them- even if he shows it in questionable ways.

#Offered Insight : headcanons #The Inventor's Son : Antonio da Vinci

[craffbeertimes]

Review of Proliferous Beer by Seventh Son Brewing #craftbeer #beer