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art of love

drarry/bxb headcanon:

its the 5th of june 1997. the summer sun is down, the birds aren’t chirping anymore, and there isn’t a cloud in sight. the lights are out, and people sleep in debt to the moon’s rays.

back in a small apartment in the stubby streets of london, lay two men upon one another, in silence that is as though bestowed upon silk. all that feeds the ear is the terder noise of the fire cracking in its place. and all that feeds the mind is the unfathomable thoughts about one another. but what feeds the soul, what is it that it devours, speaks to, leans in to, you may ask. that is, the language of love—kisses, touches, hugs, sighs, tears and smiles. love.

âme et larmes—soul & tears

drarry drabble:

italics: draco // normal: harry

“and of course am i lying. i’m always lying.

i have always lied,

to you.

because if i told you the truth, you would think i’m insane.”

“and you never thought about me?

us?

not even a ‘what if’”

“i don’t deserve you.

so i act like it doesn’t exist. like you don’t exist.

we aren’t made for this. we aren’t (silence)

possible.”

and harry only ever wished for draco to have his mind with him, to trust, to believe he deserved love. to understand he could love harry, his fucking enemy, to see that they had a chance with each other. but draco? he chose not to.

@drarrymicrofic’s prompt: love letters

drarry microfic

when draco found out it wouldn’t be long until harry would no longer wake by his side, in his arms, legs a tangled mess, under their covers anymore, draco could’ve sworn he wished the world ended right then. though, his grief wasn’t a lone man’s pie. in fact, the rest of the wizarding world sorrowfully cried too. money for harry’s chemotherapy was being swept off ruthlessly on one end, while draco’s nightmares of the potential death of his love came along on the other. it all seemed like a sick joke. just as their first anniversary as a married couple came around the corner, harry’s oesophageal cancer popped up like a twisted surprise. draco wouldn’t have guessed, though, if harry hadn’t complained of chronic chest pain or difficulty in swallowing—he just thought it was some kind of act in preparation for their first anniversary. like some kind of ongoing skit with a huge curveball to shock draco on the huge day with. though, he would’ve liked it if was kept that way. because as the days went by, the realization that harry just might not make it alive seemed to creep its way noisily–like a broken record–straight into draco’s head. it was quite the matter for him, of course. he never would’ve imagined things to fire back at the very last moment. heck, he didn’t imagine harry of all people to suffer oesophageal cancer. and it was as though harry wasn’t the only one with the short end on the stick, because draco’s mind seemed to slander him in the mud on the other end too. he started seeing visions, as though he was delusional and couldn’t differentiate between reality and what was in his mind. so, whenever draco walked around their now-empty apartment, he would vision a flicker of harry, trapped in their bed, yelling for help, crying and pounding on the sheets, but whenever draco ran to him to aid, harry would sink and disappear into the bed, leaving draco surrounded in his sorrow. draco did tell his mind healer about all of these visions though, and she did suggest draco try to pen his thoughts down. having lost her own child to the ruthless, hunting monster that is cancer, she confessed that writing her feelings down did help for her to visualize them to work on. and draco thought this was a pretty damn genius idea, except he had a little twist to it. instead of making the letter all about himself and what he called his “oh so poor little miseries”, he decided on writing love letters to harry instead. this way, he would give harry as well as himself something to look forward to every day, compared to usual days where he would stride into harry’s ward with his eyes and nose as though dipped in red paint, tear strains a never-ending pour. and so he did. draco poured all his love he would’ve given harry into the form of letters. he figured that writing was indeed his forte, as he elegantly scorched the paper with his undying love for harry. and it did pay off, because at the end, the flashing smile harry gave him after he was done with the day’s letter made draco’s heart soar, as though he fell in love all over again. soon enough, about three anniversaries later, harry managed to beat his oesophageal hell of a cancer and even came home with two boxes filled with four years worth of daily love letters from his husband. as heavy as it was, though, how could he complain? life and love were truly a mystery, and he was only blessed to have explored all strange corners of them with draco all along.

my heart goes out to anyone with cancer. you are so strong and i believe that you have the fight to beat it. you are so fucking amazing and i literally love you🤎🤎🤎🤎

aaaaand colored! I'm so happy with how it turned out! <3 (tw blood-like markings)

Catadora is canon and all is right with the world  💖

Redraw of 

monster ball ?? 😳🥺🥺

Silver - Chapter Two

Kamali and Silver stopped in front of the queen, not bowing, as she was known to abhor formalities. Kamali attempted to force a smile on her face, to no avail. She simply looked as if she had a toothache.

“Silver” Reye greeted the princess. She turned to Kamali. “Who are…?” “Kamali, Your Majesty. Her bodyguard.” Gods, her hands were drenched in sweat. She was so overtaken by fear her heart was thumping out of her chest and she wanted to begin stabbing every person in that hall right then and now.

“Really?” Reye asked, looking directly at Silver. “Last time I checked, you didn’t want a, as you put it, ‘disgusting old man constantly following you around and putting restrictions on your every move’,”

“And I stand by that,” Silver agreed. “Kamali is, very obviously, not a disgusting old man. And either way, I never asked for a bodyguard.” Kamali's head roared to punch them for speaking about her like she was not there, but she’d have to teach herself to rein in that instinct.

Instead, she let herself sink in the fact that she’d be spending two months in the hospitality of her sworn enemy, and took solace knowing that at the end of those six weeks, she and Johanna and Silver would all be cold in the ground.

Everything she knew begged her to at the very least close her eyes. But she couldn’t. Her pupils remained fixated on Silver and anything around her that could be considered a plausible threat.

The princess and queen chatted for a few moments before they politely drifted away from each other.

“My father told me that all people of Darkflame are immortal,” Silver whispered. “Is that true?”

Kamali blinked, startled. That was knowledge that should have been unknown to even a princess.

“Yes,” she said a little breathlessly.

“How is that possible?” Silver asked. “Are you all children of gods?” All royals were; that was what gifted them their immortality. Queens and kings were required to marry gods so their kingdoms could have legitimate immortal rulers.

Or at least semi-immortal.

Gods weren’t really immortal. They could die, it was just insanely difficult to slay them. And royalty were weaker. They had fast, strong healing and queens and kings of old had been rumored to wield magik, though all that was simply implausible myth now.

“No,” Kamali corrected. “When the Earth God died, his blood seeped into the soil, and set off a ripple effect causing the people of Darkflame to all eventually become immortal as the royal godchildren of all other kingdoms.” “Is that why your royals are immortal? Or do they still bear the blood of deities?” Silver inquired.

“Why do you care?” Kamali snapped, completely forgetting her proprietary.

“Apologies, my lady. I did not mean to offend,” the princess said, almost sincerely.

“You shan’t apologize,” Kamali said. “You are of a rank higher than mine.”

They walked in silence across the ballroom floor, the only sound the clacking of Silver’s heels- the same color as her namesake.

A string quartet played by the buffet tables in the hall. The low, majestic sounds of the violoncello took over the white noise in Kamali’s head. Music had always done that to her. The noise made her want to open her mouth, and let those words trapped inside her fly out in a sophisticated string of verses, choruses and bridges. Hymns, folk songs, lullabies. Anything so long as she could sing it and grant it life.

Back when she was Amirah, when life was free and open to her- as open as it could be for a girl from Darkflame- she could have. She could sing until her throat was dry and hoarse, sing until her mouth could no longer make a sound, sing until her tongue was withered as the desert.

But now, as Kamali, she could never sing again in public, lest Her Most Majestic Majesty of Hoperain recognize her unique tone, or the artistic expression be deemed too improper for the bodyguard to Princess Silver of Florynlla.

She thought back to those fifty-nine years imprisoned in the fortress of the Heron. How she had taught the other prisoners from Darkflame the importance of the arts. The melancholy, heartbreaking songs to sing at a funeral and the hopeful, freeing tunes to hum at a wedding. The way that paint, when introduced to a canvas, could transform the world a little bit. Though she herself had never quite understood the wonder of creating physical, preserved art, she marveled at it often and considered how kinder people would be if they saw and heard art the way she did.

Lost in thought, the bodyguard didn’t feel the hours at the banquet pass by. Silver did not speak to her for the remainder of the time at the reception. Kamali did not attempt to initiate, and did not wish to. The leather-clad woman spent the whole banquet thinking of two months in Reye’s palace. And at the end of those months, how good it would feel when her dagger slid up into Reye’s heart. The horror she hoped to see on Reye’s face when she realized that Amirah was more than a ghost- that she had been closer than the queen would have ever anticipated.

Kamali was a liar, a criminal and a dirty cheat, yes.

Yet Reye was all those things as well, times thirty.

It took one to know one.

Eventually, people began drifting out of the ballroom, chattering amongst themselves as they paraded outside to their golden carriages.

Silver and Kamali were the last to leave, directly after Queen Reye.

They paused at the staircase.

“Good evening,” Silver said stiffly, and then promptly turned and left down a corridor.

Kamali closed her eyes- finally- and leaned back against the stair rail, shuddering.

Two months. No longer than that. She whirled on her heel and headed up the staircase, slightly glad when she reached her disgustingly ornate room. She fumbled for her key in the pocket on her cloak and slammed it into the lock. She grabbed the doorknob and threw it open, wanting to collapse as soon as she entered the room and locked the door firmly behind her. Instead, she relieved herself of the damn leather torture devices and slipped into a hot bath, attempting to relax her tense muscles from standing up straight and refraining from hitting anyone for hours.

Knowing herself, Kamali didn’t even attempt to sleep. Instead, she found the thick file she’d ignored earlier and scoured it, making notes on anything that seemed important, like Johanna arriving in Hoperain three weeks after Silver and Kamali, or the grand ball that would take place the night after that. Most of the file, though, was utterly unnecessary information that only a complete moron wouldn’t already know, like court etiquette. Who did they think she was? Kamali had made sure to give herself a refresher on royal household politics before signing up to be a princess’s bodyguard.

There was little to no information given to her about Queen Reye- unsurprising, since though the queen made public appearances, she was secretive about her personal life and had given no indication of her plans in political or private matters.Eventually, the fatigue Kamali felt from the day caught up to her and she collapsed, exhausted, into the overly fluffy sheets of her elegant bed.

Kamali was sitting across from Queen Reye of Hoperain in Her Most Esteemed Majesty’s private royal carriage. Again. Of course, this time as the bodyguard of the heir to a visiting fellow monarchy, and not an eight-year-old girl and the then-future queen’s closest friend.

Kamali was not to do anything that could distract her from Silver, so no matter how much she wished to review her files or even read one of the epics Reye had championed every time she got the chance as a child, she spent the carriage ride observing the queen.

Silver was going to be easy to kill- they would share chambers at the palace of Hoperain. She’d just plant evidence to show that an assassin had tragically made it inside during Kamali’s off-duty hours. But Queen Reye… Kamali needed to learn more about what she was like now. Without knowing everything possible about the sovereign, there was no way to tell what her weaknesses were.

The only issue was that Her Most Esteemed Majesty had spent the entire carriage ride so far reading budget notes. All Kamali had gained was the knowledge that she had become immensely boring- she had giggled multiple times while reading the report- and that she still loved to grab strands of her hair and push them behind her ear, something that had always annoyed Kamali to no end.

Kamali felt something wet and cold prick her eye. She flicked it away.

Kamali had begun to count how many times Reye had let out a little laugh at some note one of her Slightly Less Esteemed nobles had left on the budget report.

Out of everyone in the universe to swear to kill!

The current tally was at thirty-nine.

Suddenly, the horses let out a whinny and the carriage came to a halt. Silver and Reye jolted.

Reye held up a finger and stepped out to speak to the coachman.

Silver’s eyes were wide with fear. Kamali rolled hers. “It’s probably fine,” the bodyguard said. “The horses probably got spooked by a bear, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” “You file a bear under nothing to worry about?” the princess demanded.

“It’s not going to eat us. If someone didn’t kill it already, it’s long gone by now,” Kamali explained as if she was speaking to a toddler.

“What if it comes back?”

“Then I stab it. This possibly nonexistent bear is not going to hurt you, Silver! It’s nothing to be afraid of! You need to get outside more; bears are very common creatures!” Kamali cut off her rant before it could expand further and give herself away before they were halfway to Hoperain.

Reye slipped back inside the carriage. “Bad news,” she announced. Silver paled. “One of the horses got heat stroke and passed out. It should be fine, but it needs to cool off. The horses nearly tripped over each other, so they let out a noise of alarm. We’ll have to wait a few hours out here; we don’t want the horse to be unfit to travel the rest of the way to Hoperain.”

Kamali turned to Silver. “See? Nothing to worry about.” Silver shook her head and looked at Reye. “How many hours?” “Enough that it’ll be dark by the time we get to Hoperain,” Reye admitted.

“Dark!” the princess exclaimed. “We left at seven to avoid that! We took your fastest horses!” “It’s just nighttime,” Kamali muttered. “Why are you so perturbed?” “No one is allowed within two miles of Hoperain Castle at night! By my own laws, not even I am to be let in before daybreak!” Reye explained. “Was there no information in that file?” “Honestly? I definitely don’t remember that!” Kamali defended. “Maybe reread the synopsis on your own capital if you care so much! Forgive me if you’re so very paranoid that you won’t allow yourself to enter your own castle during the dark hours!” “Would you prefer night shifters disguise themselves as me and break in?” the queen demanded.

“What have I signed up for? You have a night shifter infestation?” Night shifters were creatures that had forgotten their true form. During the day, they appeared to you as your greatest fear, but at night, they could become an exact replica of whoever they wanted. While Reye’s parents reigned, programs were in place to hunt them down and terminate them.

“I… may have felt bad for them and shut down the programs,” Reye said sheepishly.

“What is wrong with you? They’re pure evil! They don’t have a conscience!” Kamali screamed. “And you felt bad for them!” “...I need some fresh air,” Silver squeaked out. Both the queen and bodyguard had forgotten she was there. “Kamali, maybe you should just… stay here and work out whatever this is?” She slinked out of the carriage.

Kamali and Reye stared at each other. Kamali’s heart was racing so fast she thought it would jump straight out of her chest. Her cheeks flushed red and her nails dug into her thighs. Something in her gut twinged.

Kamali shook her head lightly. “Just- go back to reading your damn budget report and leave me alone.”

“It’s not a budget report,” Reye said softly.

“Excuse me?” “It’s a romance novel,” Reye admitted. “Disguised as a budget report so no one can accuse me of being improper.”

“Why are you bothering to tell me this?” Kamali asked in just as light a tone. There was a string in her stomach and someone was pulling on it hard.

“So you’ll stop staring at me and wondering why I’m laughing,” Reye said.

“I’m not staring at you because of that,” Kamali muttered.

“So why are you?” Reye demanded, her voice still quiet but a little harsher, like the queen she was. The queen she didn’t deserve to be.

“Because you’re interesting,” Kamali blurted, then caught herself. “I mean, it’s between you, the wall and Silver, who I’m going to be watching for the rest of my life.” A lie, but Reye didn’t know that. “You’re the novelty. If only I were you and could read a romance novel in lieu of sitting upright and being attentive and trying not to fall asleep.”

Reye smiled a little. “All right. So, should we go back to fighting?”

“Would you like to?” Kamali asked.

“Not really. I think you’re alright when you’re not screaming your ass off,” Reye said.

“And what do you think when I am ‘screaming my ass off’, as you so properly put it?” Kamali replied, grinning.

“I think you’re just plain attractive,” Reye admitted.

“What?” the bodyguard demanded.

Reye just smirked. “So. Truce?” Kamali comforted herself in the fact that she’d be stabbing this woman within two months. “Truce.”

“Are we going to have to sleep in the carriage?” Silver asked. Two hours ago, the carriage had started moving again and they’d finally been on their way to Hoperain. But it was alright almost sunset by the time the capital, Averfell, was even a tiny speck in the distance.

“Hopefully not,” Reye said. “But most innkeepers will turn us away rather than run the risk of us being night shifters.” Again with the night shifters! Restart the programs! Kamali wanted to tell Reye. But their truce had lasted for all of five hours, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to break it first.

“The carriage is fine; it’s just one night anyways,” Kamali shrugged.

“Unless you have another option,” Silver added. Royals! They were all so obsessed with personal comforts!

“Unfortunately,” Reye said, “the only other choice would be Starlight Avenue.”

What was Starlight Avenue? So much had changed in fifty-nine years!

“Oh! Well, I was actually hoping that at some point we could visit there!” Silver exclaimed, a light of excitement ashine in her eyes.

“You wish to go someplace so dangerous?!” Reye demanded, shocked.

“The markets are only for liars to fear,” Silver said, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve seen the gates; I’ve seen the sign! ‘Lies Have No Place Here’! I, for one, am no liar, and I hope you don’t consider yourself to be one!”

Reye closed her eyes tight. “Alright. Fine. But we should remain in the day sector, to avoid night shifters.”

Again with the night shifters…. Is it really that bad? 

“Day sector?” Silver asked.

Ah, so she doesn’t know everything about this place! Maybe I’ll know something about what this is! Other than that it sounds like imminent doom to me!

“There are two sectors in Starlight Avenue,” Reye explained. “One is trapped in eternal day; the other in eternal night. And the whole place is swarming with night shifters. Even the day sector- some like to show people their greatest fear. They don’t care about shifting.”

“Remind me again why we’re opting for the night shifter breeding ground,” Kamali mumbled, just under loud enough for Reye and Silver to hear.

The horses clipped on, and the three women soon dissolved back into silence.

Hours later, Kamali stood in front of two great iron gates blocking off a street that seemed to be made entirely of darkness. A message was etched into the arch of the gates. Just as Silver had said: LIES HAVE NO PLACE HERE.

Kamali shuddered.

“The tides have turned,” Silver mused. “Now you’re concerned about something you shouldn’t be. Unless you’re lying entirely about your whole identity or something, there is no reason for you to fear this place.”

Kamali twisted her face into something resembling a smile and tried not to wonder if this meant Silver was smarter or dumber than she had initially thought.

“Are the gates locked or…?” Kamali asked.

“No, no,” Reye said. “You just have to push. Want to do the honors?” she asked, gesturing to Kamali.

Lies have no place here.

And Kamali was one big lie.

She didn’t even know anything about what this place was and yet every internal danger radar she possessed was waving red flags in front of her face.

She stepped on shaky feet forward and pressed her palm against the gate, her whole head begging, Please don’t kill me just yet.

The iron gates creaked and opened. Silver ran inside, while Reye and Kamali moved slower.

As soon as the gates slammed behind them, the sky transformed into a beautiful midday scene. The sun’s glare looked down upon them. If Kamali didn’t know better, she’d think it was truly daytime.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Silver marveled.

“I’ve been here once before, and almost got killed by a night shifter. Forgive me if I don’t love it,” Reye reflected.

For some reason Kamali wondered, A night shifter in the day or night sector? “Well. Let us go, then,” Kamali said decisively.

“Shall we check out the shops?” Silver suggested excitedly.

“Do that if you wish. I should have been off duty an hour ago,” Kamali muttered.

“Perhaps you’d like to check out the magik mirrors,” Reye suggested, smiling at Kamali. “I can show you to them.” “Magik isn’t real,” Kamali said flatly.

“Isn’t it?” Silver murmured, her voice light and airy. Kamali pictured her blood splattered everywhere.

“I’ll check out the mirrors, if only to escape from the desperate bore of your company,” Kamali shot at the princess.

“Good. Enjoy the shops, Your Highness,” Reye said, linking arms with Kamali and half-dragging her away.

The fake glare of the sun still somehow burned Kamali’s eyes as Reye guided her to the mirror exhibit.

Reye stopped walking when they reached what seemed to be a town square. There were people swarming everywhere, gossiping about the latest this or newest that, peddlers and merchants stopping rich old ladies in the street and offering to sell their beads and vases, pickpockets sneaking jewelry from the purses of pedestrians- everyone and everything you’d expect to find in a regular city hub.

Except for a long brick wall with every mirror you could ever expect to find hanging on it- but the mirrors weren’t the interesting part. It was what was inside of them.

These were mirrors that Kamali had heard about from fairy tales. They had faces trapped inside them, though in the stories they were honest and intelligent, and these were… not.

Kamali turned to Reye, fear ablaze in her eyes. “What are they?”

“Banshees.” Well, that calm voice was meant to be a deliberate annoyance, wasn’t it? 

“Sorcery,” Kamali said, completely disbelieving.

“It’s not sorcery! It’s-”

“If you say magik, I swear to all the gods, I will gut you right here and now!” Kamali shrieked.

If she was being honest, she sounded like a banshee herself.

“Are they actually demonic off-key sopranos?” Kamali asked.

“I’m going to choose to ignore what you just described them as and say, yes, they are banshees, who were imprisoned inside these millenia ago. And no, they’re not to escape and start mauling you to shreds, so don’t even ask,” Reye said. “And they’re actually quite sweet, and the poor things don’t deserve to be locked away. In fact, I do plan to speak to some of these people, and see if a mirror can be purchased. I am certain my alchemists can look into freeing a banshee.”

“I don’t particularly think I’ll enjoy following you around as you do that. I shall remain here and observe these mirrors for a while longer,” Kamali decided.

“If it please you.” Reye left her there with the wall and its mirrors. In truth, Kamali did not pay the banshees a scrap of attention and instead closed her eyes for the first time that day. She let herself breathe and be human. She let her tense muscles relax just the slightest bit.

A tiny, tiny tear slipped out of the tired corner of her left eye. It trickled down her face, cooling her skin a little. It felt like the first introduction of ice to a desert.

She despised it.

Kamali reopened her eyes and looked around the square. A little girl, maybe five or six years old, was standing at her side. She had a puffy rat’s nest of blonde hair and came up to Kamali’s hips. The little girl reached up to tug on Kamali’s hand. Her skin was colder than the tear, colder than the tundra, colder than a frozen Hell.

Kamali shook it away and looked down at the girl. She gasped at the sight of her face.

It was Kamali.

No, it was Amirah. That was what Kamali had looked like almost seventy-five years ago.

That was her.

Amirah’s body began to flicker in and out, and she started sinking into the ground. Kamali fell to her knees, trying to reach her, to touch her, to save her.

It was all to no avail. She disappeared as soon as she’d come.

When Kamali got up, shaking, Amirah was there again, this time older. Thirteen, maybe. A long cut underneath her eye, bruises up and down her arm.

She wasn’t quite thirteen, then. She remembered this. It was one of the nastier beatings the nobl

es had given her.

Amirah was bleeding, and the blood began to cover her body, swallowing her whole, eating her alive.

Amirah was drowning in her own blood.

Kamali screamed, but somehow, somehow, no one heard her. Or maybe they did. Why would they care? Amirah melted to the cobblestone streets in a puddle of sticky red.

Kamali hoped to the heavens she wouldn’t reappear.

Not five seconds later, she was faced with another Amirah. This one much older- almost nineteen. Cloaked in black, repeating the same two words over and over, in the exact voice she remembered saying them.

“I’m sorry.” The truth hit Kamali’s mind suddenly.

Night shifter.

What was it Reye had said? Some like to show people their greatest fear. They don’t care about shifting.

Kamali turned on her heel and ran.

She didn’t know if Amirah- the night shifter; it wasn’t Amirah; she was Amirah, or at least used to be- was chasing her, and didn’t particularly care. She just needed to get away from it.

She didn’t even notice when the sky turned suddenly black, and a crescent moon’s light began to shine down on her. She just ran and ran until her legs gave out and she saw a line of shops to her left. She ran directly to the one in front of her, and begged every god the door would be unlocked.

She tugged on the doorknob and, thankfully, it opened. She rushed inside, and collapsed to the ground, even the warm yellow lamp radiating warmth that was the sole source of light in the store, burning her eyes.

She curled into a ball on the rough wooden floor, and tried to take some deep breaths.

“What happened?”

She looked up. A woman with curly sand-colored hair and emerald eyes stood over her, the burning sword tattoo on her throat signifying her as from Darkflame.

The tattoo of war heroes.

“Speak, girl!” she commanded. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Kamali murmured, then groaned. She rolled over and vomited all over the woman’s floorboards.

“I just saw you running and screaming down the streets, so you’re clearly not ill. Mop’s over there.” The woman pointed to a mop and bucket in the back corner of the one-room store, which was filled with shelves containing bottles filled with odd-colored liquids, old leather-bound books and rusty relics, among many strange things.

Kamali blinked.

“Clean it up,” the shop owner commanded.

Kamali covered her eyes and yawned.

“Who even are you?” the woman demanded. “And what are you doing, dirtying my store?” “K…Kamali, bodyguard of Princess Silver. Visiting guest of Queen-” “Throwing around the names of royals isn’t going to help you. So what’s Kamali, bodyguard of Princess Silver, visiting guest of Queen Reye, doing in the Night Sector?” the shopkeeper barked.

“I’m in the night sector?” Kamali groggily asked.’

“Well, it’s been dark out for a decade, so I’d assume so. Get up, Kamali, bodyguard of Princess Silver. Such an esteemed lady as you has no business lying on the ground of such a lowly shopkeeper as I.” The woman spoke with clear sarcasm.

Kamali made a noise similar to that of a gate in desperate need of oil.

The shopkeeper kicked her.

Kamali rolled onto her back and made a half-assed attempt at jabbing the woman’s ribcage with her own foot but it turned out to be more of a flail.

This is pathetic, she hissed at herself. You’re stronger than this.

The other side of her brain fought back. No. You’re not. You were weak enough to be betrayed by a dumb feeling in your chest. 

Well, she wouldn’t be this time.

And she wouldn’t be stabbing anyone lying on the floor of a shop in the Night Sector.

Kamali tentatively pushed herself up onto two wobbly legs and took a few shaky steps towards the mop.

She gripped its handle and started cleaning up the vomit. The shopkeeper, seated on a moldy wooden stool, kept her glowing green eyes fixated on Kamali until she was finished. Once the floor was sparkling shiny, the woman spoke.

“I’m Barbara,” she said flatly. “I don’t know any fancy royals except for the long-dead ones, but I beg that you deign to acknowledge me regardless.”

Kamali couldn’t help but laugh, for this woman seemed to be the one people would beg to be acknowledged by.

Barbara gestured to a stool identical to hers. “Sit.” Kamali obeyed. “Tell me how such an esteemed lady as you got here,” she ordered. 

“I was a bit… spooked by a night shifter,” Kamali   murmured. “I ran away, and didn’t exactly notice when I entered the night sector.”

“Ah, another court idiot,” Barbara commented.

“Don’t call me that,” Kamali snapped.

“What?”

  “I’m not a court idiot! I’m not even a noble! I simply applied to become the bodyguard of a princess because I needed a job.” Even though that’s nowhere near the whole truth. “The title is just attached.”

“What did the night shifter appear as?” Barbara asked, unfazed by Kamali’s protests.

“Doesn’t matter,” she snapped.

“Made you crumple to the floor of my shop and cry like  the devil was after you. Seems like it matters,” the shopkeeper insisted.

Kamali was silent.

“Look, just tell me: Was it someone or something?” “Someone,” Kamali admitted.

“Interesting,” Barbara commented. “But good. Now the weight on your shoulders is lighter, simply from sharing that bit of information. Do you feel it?” “I don’t feel anything,” Kamali muttered.

“We’ll work on it,” the woman decided. “Now. You will buy something.” “I don’t have any money, my lady. I apologize.” The shopkeeper’s eyebrows furrowed.

Shit. She’d slipped. Kamali had done so damn well not affording Barbara the deference she deserved as a warrior of Darkflame.

Well, she’d just have to act like it never happened and barrel past it.

“I don’t deal in common coins,” the shopkeeper said. And before Kamali could ask, she said, “I deal in lies.” “In lies…?” Liars have no place here.

“Over there-” Barbara gestured to the shelves in the front of the shop- “I’ll only need you to tell me a few small lies you’ve told in your lifetime, and the truth to go with them.”

Kamali cautiously approached the shelf. There were many treasures collecting dust on the wooden planks- golden goblets, bronze bracelets, emerald vases. She was drawn to a small, clear, shimmering ring tucked behind a few wine bottles. She pointed to it. “What’s that?”

“That ring changes color depending on your emotions. It comes with a piece of paper decoding the shades. That will be two small lies paired with their truths, if you please. Don’t bother telling me you don’t want to buy it. You wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t. And they must be lies you’ve told before. Oh, and you must tell me the person you lied to.” Barbara waited, smiling.

“I told you nothing happened to me,” Kamali said, her voice grinning for her. “Right after I entered your store. And the truth is many things have happened to me.”

Barbara let out a little laugh. “Nice job,” she purred. “Not giving me what I want. I respect that. But you still have only paid half the price.”

“Why do you deal in lies?” Kamali asked. “They can’t be of value to you.”

“Oh, but they are. Now, if you ask another question, I will throw you out of this shop. I do not answer to you,” Barbara snapped.

Kamali rubbed her temples, trying to think of another small lie she’d told. “When I was nine,” she said, “I told my mother I had to ask my teacher a question and I would be late coming home. Instead, I snuck over to my sick friend’s house and brought her a cinnamon roll.”

“Hm,” the shopkeeper remarked. “Why did you have to lie?” Kamali mimicked her and said, “I don’t answer to you.”

“Yet we all answer to the truth. You’d do well not to forget that,” Barbara told her. “Well, the ring’s yours.”

The shopkeeper plucked it off the shelf along with a slip of paper and handed it to Kamali. She slid it onto her left index finger and it turned a shade of bright red.

Kamali looked down at the sheet. Red: Fear. 

Her heart pounded. Shit. Her emotions were on display for this woman to see- why was she so rash?

Everything told her to take the ring off, but even if Barbara could see her emotions- this could help Kamali. She could know when she was feeling something that made her vulnerable. And she would, at the very least, know more about herself than other people did.

Something else caught Kamali’s eye. In the windowsill sat a candle- not lit, not at all burnt. A perfect, pristine candle- as if it was frozen in time.

Pointing to it, she asked, “And how much does that cost?”

“Oh, that,” Barbara said, smirking, “will cost the greatest lie you have ever told. It protects a person of your choice against all harm until it burns out.”

“No, no,” Kamali gasped, shaking her head violently. “Thank you for the ring. I will be going now.” She stepped towards the door.

“When you wish to come back and purchase the candle, I will hold it for you,” the shopkeeper told her.

“Do not,” Kamali insisted. “I have no wish to buy it.”

“Well, even if you don’t,” Barbara countered, “sometimes we crave to tell someone the truth, even if we don’t know it ourselves. The candle will be kept out of sight until you return.” “Stop saying when and until,” Kamali protested. “I will not be returning to purchase the candle.” “Oh, you will,” Barbara persisted. “You simply don’t know it yet.”

“Kamali? Kamali??” That was Reye’s voice. She must have come back to the wall of mirrors only to find Kamali gone. Luckily, she’d made it back to the day sector before there was a chance of anyone finding out where she’d been.

“No need to freak out,” Kamali said, approaching the queen’s back. “I’m right here.” Reye whirled around and for a second reached out her arms like she was going to hug Kamali. But then she pushed them back to her sides, and seemed to exhale. A good thing. She shouldn’t hug you, Kamali reminded herself. 

“Where were you?” Reye demanded. “I thought you were lost or dead or worse!” Kamali decided not to ask what constituted worse.

“I was just at a shop,” she assured the queen, smiling. She held up the hand bearing her ring. It had turned deep blue- perhaps the color of absolute disgust and hatred.

“Nice,” Reye remarked. “I’m glad you… enjoyed yourself, then.” The queen twisted her face into a stupidly wide grin.

“Where is Silver?” Kamali asked.

“Acquiring lodgings. There are still many hours left of nightfall and we need sleep. She is at an inn a few blocks away. Come on.” Reye set off and gestured for Kamali to follow her. 

The bodyguard squared her shoulders and walked after her nemesis.

Silver was waiting at a cottage painted white with a dark blue door. There was a hole in the roof and a thriving garden in front.

Kamali and Reye stopped in front of her and instantly noticed she was blushing.

The princess looked them each in the eye and then said, “Well. Good news or bad news first?”

“Bad, always the bad,” Kamali decided before Reye could say anything.

“She only has two free rooms. And I may have already claimed one for myself,” Silver admitted.

“What? I’m your bodyguard. Don't you think we should be the ones sharing a room?” Kamali demanded.

“I’ve known you for all of one day; there’s no chance in hell that we are sharing a room! And considering I’m the one who found this place, isn’t it fair that the rooming is my decision?” Silver demanded.

“That’s fine,” Reye scoffed. “As long as-” “And it’s only one bed each,” Silver blurted.

“Not as fine,” Kamali muttered. “And what the hell is the good news?” Maybe there’s a mat I can sleep on? Oh, gods!

“We don’t have to sleep on the streets,” the princess said, shrugging. “And it’s only for one night. Now come inside. It is freezing out here, and there are shades to ward off the light so we can calm down a bit.”

Reye turned to Kamali. “We can make this work. It’ll be fine.”

Kamali pinched her nose so tight it hurt.

The ring was black with swirls of red now. She hid her hand in her cloak so Reye wouldn’t see it had changed color. The logical side of her brain said to just take the jewelry off, but… Somehow she couldn’t. She liked having the power to know, once she’d memorized what the colors meant.

Silver handed Kamali a rusty key with 6 engraved on it. She and Reye checked a few corridors until they found their assigned room.

The bodyguard slid her key into the lock, and-

Oh gods. The room was disgusting. It was practically a glorified closet, there was mold and spiderwebs creeping across the walls, and the bed was tiny. If you put two babies on opposite ends of it, they’d be a hair’s length away from one another!

The luggage that Kamali and Reye had brought was shoved in the corner, presumably by the footman before he went home to his family, who, according to the queen of Hoperain, lived in the day sector.

“It should be around midnight outside,” the queen said. “We’ll have to leave early. We should get some sleep.” She walked over to the thick blinds on the windows and shut them tightly. Both the queen and bodyguard walked over to the bed and pulled themselves under the thin covers.

About three minutes later, Reye was fast asleep. With her arms tightly wrapped around Kamali. What the actual fuck.

How Reye had managed to silently and unsuspiciously do that, Kamali had no idea. She didn’t even think it was on purpose, and that was the worst part. That was it; she had tried; she was going to sleep on the floor now. Kamali tried to tug herself out of the queen’s embrace, but she feared to either wake Reye or dislocate her own shoulder.

It had been cold as ice just a few minutes ago, but now Kamali was sweating. Kamali looked down at her ring, which had been pulsing with light ever since Reye had closed the shades. It was mostly red, with a few dabs of purple mixed in. She’d have to check what that meant tomorrow, but right now, Kamali wanted to sleep. And she wanted to escape the arms of her sworn enemy. And also, a little tiny part of her wanted to stay right where she was.

Alas, she had a scrap of intelligence left in her, and set about weaving herself out of Reye’s grasp. Her heart was jumping, and she didn’t like it one bit.

Kamali had managed to half-dangle herself over the bed when Reye opened her eyes.

“What the hell…?” the queen murmured groggily. “Why are you doing that?”

“Exercise,” Kamali lied. “Night exercise. It’s good for the body, the soul, the, um, ligaments! I just had to finish it up. Sorry for disturbing you.”

“Mm,” Reye murmured, turning over, accidentally dropping Kamali onto the floor. “G’night.”

Kamali nodded, knowing the queen couldn’t see her, and not caring one bit.

She didn’t get back into bed, instead electing to curl into the fetal position on the scratchy rug and trying to force herself asleep.

The nightmares came. They always did.

A crack of a whip. Blood everywhere.

The blood of her people, everywhere, her clothing, the ground, spurting from her mouth.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m- Her eyes blinked open. Kamali forced the door open, forgetting about Reye asleep behind her. She ran outside to the bright sun and perfect garden, fell to her knees, and wept.

A Midsummer Night's Dream | MasterPost

Pairing: Incubus x Female Character

Genre/Tags: Dark, Fantasy, Psychological-Thriller

Word Count: 2.3k+

Status: Completed

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Rejection, Implied sexual content, mental health issues, mention of the Second World War, and LGBT characters.

Synopsis: She was a force driving him to sin with sheer temptation even in her sleep. He was a mystical being not backing down until he had a taste.

❛You have driven me crazy, stupid girl. I can wait no longer now.❜

𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐼 𝑜𝑓 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑂𝑓 𝑇𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

Read Here

Alr so as my first post I thought I'd show the drawing I made of the character I'm voice acting! (ref image in left corner)

His name is Cursor! They are genderfluid and very gay lol

They are the side protagonist in an upcoming webseries called Parallel Playground by galacticexcentric on TikTok! I'm having so much fun with the cast and crew :3

My director and creator of Parallel Playground ==> https://galacticoddball.tumblr.com/?source=share

Sam is about perform her songs in front of an audience for the first time so Elis come go support her

(First attempt at a little comic, bit messy and I need to work on drawing  Sam in a more consistent way)

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙚𝙣: 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙃𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚

The hall was silent; everyone stared for a brief moment until Professor McGonagall started clapping. Slowly, the other professors at the high table on the raised dais joined in. Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was frozen—at a standstill. While the table under the yellow banner with a badger applauded and cheered with smiles, he never felt so unwelcome. 

Y/n didn’t notice that the stern professor had removed the old raggedy hat until she urged him off the rickety chair. He didn’t notice his legs moving on their own. Poor Y/n couldn’t hear anything. It was all muffled. As if someone was cupping his ears, shutting him out from the world into a plain of silence. His e/c eyes were glued on Harry. His twin was staring at him with a pained expression. Of course he was sad, thought Y/n bitterly. Why didn’t that talking hat put me in Gryffindor? 

Ever so slowly, Y/n started moving towards the table of his new house. Eyes from the Gryffindor table watched his movements as he slunked towards the long rectangular table. Behind him, Professor McGonagall continued to call out names for each new student to be sorted. Once he reached the table, many eyes and faces greeted him with smiles. They were happy; he realised. Happy to have snatched one of the Potters. Though they did not boast about it like Harry’s house, you could see the joy each one had. 

Before Y/n could sit down, a tall boy with black wavy hair and sky-blue eyes stood up, drawing attention temporarily from Y/n but in the end winded back to being on the young Potter. The boy stopped in front of Y/n and he watched with a terrified expression on his face. 

“‘Ello Potter! The name’s Oliver Benedict, and I’m the seventh year Prefect of Hufflepuff House. If you need anything at all, please come straight towards me. And welcome to Hufflepuff.” Y/n watched in silence as he smiled and gestured to the table behind him. The tall creature smiled too much, which made shivers climb up his spine. Y/n wanted to say hello or nice to meet you, or possibly anything. But alas, all he said was: “Um… w-where d-do I-sit at?” His e/c eyes wandered over the table, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. He knew from primary school that each table had a group. And he was able to figure out which group was friendly and which one was not. However, there were no multiple tables for Hufflepuff. Just one long rectangular table that had a handful of students. 

“Oh, right!” Oliver cleared his throat and pointed to a small group at the end of the table. “You can sit there with the other first years, or—” He pointed to the front. “You sit with us, seventh and sixth years.” 

Y/n pointed to the rest of the first years. “I think I’ll sit with them; the other first years.” He said shyly. His eyes flickered down to his hands as he fiddled with the black robes of his uniform. 

“Of course, of course.” Oliver chuckled. “Remember now, if you need anything—and I mean anything at all, please come to me and I shall be glad to help you.” With one last friendly smile, Oliver went back to his original seat before Y/n sluggishly walked up to the group of first years. 

He quickly took a seat next to a girl with auburn hair. The girl turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were crystal blue, and she took in Y/n. He smiled, awkwardly. She returned the sentiment and tucked a copper strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Hullo, I’m Rosemary.” She had a bit of an Irish accent, but it wasn’t so prominent. Rosemary held out her hand. “And you are??” 

Y/n took her hand in his. 

“I’m—” 

“That Y/n Potter, that is!” exclaimed a boy with blond hair. He was leaning across the table, staring at Y/n closely. His brown eyes were glued to his scar, making Y/n want to cover it up with his hair. 

“If you don’t know who he is, you must be daft!” 

Rosemary glared at the boy. “And you must be rude to interrupt our conversation, y’know!” She spat venomously. 

The boy next to the rude one simply stared at Y/n. 

“I don’t know who you are.” He said quietly. “I’m Justin Finch-Fletchy.” He held his hand out. Y/n took it. “I’m Y/n Potter.” 

“How is it you don’t know who he is, Justin??” cried out the blond. “You muggle-born or somethin’?” Justin blushed, his cheeks were the colour of beets. 

“Yes. I-I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Justin’s voice quivered slightly. 

“No! ‘Course not! Just cause I’m a pureblood doesn’t mean I believe all that rubbish!” 

Rosemary rolled her eyes. 

“Anyway, I’m Ernie. Ernie Macmallin. Nice to meet you, Justin. Potter.” Ernie purposefully left out Rosemary to goad her, and she knew it too. Glaring at the blond pimple, she scoffed before introducing herself to Justin. 

Y/n watched as Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat after a boy named “Zabini” was the last one to be sorted. Soon the hall grew quiet around Y/n as the man sitting at the high table on the raised dais stood up, raising his hands to draw everyone’s attention. 

“Welcome new and returning students!” His voice was soft yet strong at the same time, plus his long white beard reminded Y/n of Father Time. He, like the rest of wizards and witches apparently, wore bright purple robes with blue and burgundy embellishments and embroidery in the fabric. On his head seemed to be an overly large nightcap. “Before we start feasting, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” 

Laughter boomed through the hall, and Y/n looked around the hall as he said those odd words. His brows were furrowed, confusion laced in his eyes. Was he supposed to laugh? If so, those words weren’t funny. In fact, they were rather strange. Strange word choice. He didn’t like the way the old wizard’s eyes twinkled. It made him shudder. 

“He’s a bit loony, huh?” questioned Rosemary. “My mum thinks so,” whispered a girl with blonde pig-tails. “Dumbledore, loony? Reckon you’re loony if you think the best wizard in the world is loony himself!” claimed Ernie. 

“Thank you, and have a wonderful feast!” He raised a hand and suddenly, dishes appeared. A plate and silverware and goblet materialised in front of him, making Y/n gasp and stare wide-eyed. 

“Whoa,” he whispered. Food started being passed around and lively chatter filled the hall. Soon, food was piled on his plate, drawing some looks from other Hufflepuffs—though Y/n did not care. He was busy eating. He never, in his entire eleven-years of life, has ever seen this much food that he could eat! Harry would be lucky to see him tomorrow and not nursing a food-coma. 

As he shovelled food into his mouth, Y/n missed the glances he received from others. A few Ravenclaws whispered behind their hands, a few Hufflepuffs elbowed each other and pointed, while some Slytherins watched on. Gryffindor house was the only ones that did not notice, for they were too busy being occupied by their new member. 

“Y/n, would you like some potatoes?” He looked up and nodded. “Thanks, Rosemary,” she smiled in return. “No problem,” She brushed her red locks behind her ear. 

“So, Potter, did you and your brother really kill You-Know-Who?” The table became silent. The only ones who spoke were the 7th and 6th years who were far down and didn’t hear. Y/n froze and hesitantly looked up from his plate. His housemates were either staring at him, waiting for his answer, or they were sending glares at Macmillian—Rosemary was in the latter, her fists clenched—and a tense silence was cast on the table. 

Before Y/n could give his answer, someone interrupted him. 

“Oh, shut your trap Macmillian, ye old geezer!” snapped a voice full of a Scottish burr. “The next time a hear any incentive thing comin’ outta yer mouth, a’ll kick yer arse maself!” A tall and muscular girl gripped the rude blond boy by the ear, yanking on him as her eyes, full of fury, was directed on him. “Shame on you for bein’ an old cocker!” Giggles and snorts were heard all around Y/n, as his new housemates laughed at Macmillian. 

“Mary!! Put me down!!” he whined. The giant of a woman sneered and Y/n realised then that somewhere in between her telling him off, she picked Macmillian up by his robes and held him close to her face, a few feet off the ground. The giant—Mary—plopped the scrambling boy down onto the bench and gave him one last glare, before she turned her fiery amber gaze onto Y/n. 

“Am Mary Fraiser, this little twat,” she nudged Macmillian. “--is ma cousin! He’s a shite, ignore ‘im,” Fraiser reached over and held out her hand. Y/n took it gingerly before being yanked a bit as she gripped it and shook. “Nice ta meet you!” 

The Y/n gave her a friendly smile, hoping that she’ll stop shaking his bones with her strength. “I’m Y/n Potter. Nice to meet you as well.” 

The brawley girl barked out a laugh. “Aye we know ye, Potter.” She chuckled before giving Macmillan one last glare before she went to sit further down at the table. 

The rest of the meal, Macmillan ignored Y/n, only talking—more like yelling—with Justin about the wizard sport, Quidditch. It looked like Justin didn’t get it, but nodded along for Macmillan’s sake.  

As Y/n reached for a jug full of pumpkin juice, an arm went straight through the jug, making the Potter boy scream and jerk back. His eyes blown wide, he watched as a fat man wearing a grey frock with a rope tied at the waist flew through the table, moaning as he gazed at the juice longingly. 

“Oh phooey,” he sighed. “I forgot,” 

A few older Hufflepuffs looked on at the ghost with pity. 

“Y-Y-ou’re the Fat Friar,” Y/n said, his eyes watching the ghost with a strange fascination. The ghost turned to look at him, a smile on his face. 

“Indeed, I am Mister Potter! Oh! I heard you were able to be sorted into my old House!! Oh, dear, I hope you’ll enjoy it. We have a celebrity! I cannot wait to rub it in Old Baron's face! Ha!” The Friar flew off towards the Slytherin table. Y/n turned his head to watch. He noticed how the ghost called the Bloody Baron was sitting next to the blond-haired boy—Draco Malfoy. Shaking his head, Y/n went back to his food. 

“What class are you excited for most, Potter?” asked Rosemary, her blue eyes full of curiosity. Before he could answer her, Rosemary interrupted. “I’m very excited for Herbology! My mum is a herbalist, it’s what drew my dad to her, y’know!” 

“I really like Charms, but also I’m very excited about Potions.” 

Someone chuckled. “I thought so too until I knew who was to be our Professor.” Y/n turned his head to look at the voice. He had short black hair and brown slender eyes and a round face. He looked nervous, yet confident at the same time. 

“Snape, that fellow right there,” He pointed to the raised dais where the high table was, and pointed at a man with a hooked nose, shoulder-length black hair and black eyes that were staring at his brother, Harry. 

“He’s a nasty bloke I’ll tell ya,” Y/n watched as “Snape” nodded his head as the professor from Diagon Alley, Professor Quirill, spoke with the black-haired professor. 

“He hates anyone that isn't in his house. It makes Potions dreadful. He’s always hovering and when you make a simple mistake, he takes away so many house points and calls you names.” Y/n and Rosemary gasped. 

“How cruel!” 

“Can he do that?” 

Cried Y/n and Rosemary at the same time, their eyes wide with shock and fury. 

“No one stops him, not even Dumbledore. Tcch.” The boy crossed his arms, his eyes rolling. Realising that he didn't introduce himself, he sighed and offered his hand. “Nakamura Hiroshi, second year.” 

“Y/n Potter,” He gripped Nakamura’s hand. “Rosemary Thorn, nice to meet you,” she smiled and shook his hand. 

“Nice to meet you both,” Nakamura nodded his head in greeting. “Welcome to Hufflepuff House,” 

The Hall fell silent after dessert as Professor Dumbledore stood up from his chair. 

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.” A few Hufflepuff’s rolled their eyes. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” 

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Rosemary leaned over to whisper to an older Hufflepuff. 

 “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Madam Hooch stood up from the High table. “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” Only a few people laughed, Harry being one of them, along with Justin, who looked around at the worried eyes of their new housemates looking grim. 

“He’s… he’s not joking?” asked Justin, his voice wavering. “Nah, he ain’t. A jus’ wanna know wat it is,'' spoke Mary a few seats down. 

“Usually Dumbledore gives us a reason,” murmured another student. 

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Y/n noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed. Oh, no. Nakamura and Mary firmly placed their hands over their ears. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

 “Everyone please your their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

 And the school bellowed:

 “Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

 Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

 Our heads could do with filling

 With some interesting stuff,

 For now they’re bare and full of air,

 Dead flies and bits of fluff,

 So teach us things worth knowing,

 Bring back what we’ve forgot,

 just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

 And learn until our brains all rot.”

The noise was painful. Y/n had placed his hands over his ears when it first started. “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. Rosemary whispered to Y/n. “Was that really music?” He chuckled, smirking at the auburn-haired girl. “A magic beyond all we do here!” 

“And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” Prefects, Oliver and a girl with short blue hair and green eyes, stood up with a bunch of other students from the three other tables, calling out: “First year Ravenclaws, follow us,” “First year Slytherins, follow us,” “First year Gryffindors, with me.” 

Y/n watched with sad eyes as he and Harry were split from each other, one wearing red and gold and the other yellow and black. 

Oliver and the witch led Harry and his fellow first years through the corridors of Hogwarts. Y/n watched as the other students, red and gold, blue and bronze, climbed the grand and moving staircase—thanks to Hogwarts: A History—that Y/n couldn’t wait to explore. While he and the rest of the first years followed their Prefects. Rosemary stuck close by him, pointing to the portraits that lined the cobblestone walls. 

“Our common room is in the basement?” whispered Justin. Macmillan nodded. 

“Yeah, it’s near the kitchens,” a smirk formed on his face. 

They climbed down the non-moving staircase and they felt a slight chill in the air. Rosemary stuck close by Y/n, pointing to the fruit themed portraits that lined the cobblestone walls. They passed a portrait of a bowl of fruit—that reminded Y/n of the bowl of fruit that muggle art teachers would have their students paint or draw—and Y/n could hear a slight commotion happening behind the portrait. Frowning, he looked at Rosemary, seeing if she had any clue as to what it was. Her face was marred in confusion. So she didn’t know what it was then, mused Y/n. 

“If you need a map of Hogwarts, please let us know, myself and Oliver shall provide you with one.” Commented the female perfect, a friendly smile on her face. 

The group stopped together at a nook, hidden by… barrels? Y/n looked at it in confusion. 

“Unlike the other houses where they need a password or need to answer a riddle, for us, we need to tap on these barrels to a rhythm, our House Founder’s song’s rhythm. We will teach you the rhythm tomorrow after your classes. So until then, stick together in a group and we’ll assign an older student to let you in and out of the common room.” Oliver smiled at the first years. “Now, Ethel, will you do the honours?” Ethel—the other prefect—nodded her head. She approached the barrels and tapped two from the bottom, and two in the middle row, and one in the top row. A soft melody played from the barrels, and the door of the nook opened. 

Y/n peered into the doorway along with the other first years. The ceiling was low; the room was round and had two small platforms with a staircase leading up to a door. One said Gents, the other Ladies. It must be the dorms, Y/n thought to himself. There was a sense of warmth and welcoming to the room. The smell of vanilla and sunflowers reached Y/n’s nose. It brought a sense of homeliness to the common room. It made him want to cuddle up in a blanket and read one of the books about dragons by the fireplace and drink some hot chocolate with marshmallows. It temporarily made him forget about his dread and his sadness. It made him forget that Harry wasn’t with him. His heart winced at the thought. 

“Welcome,” Oliver smiled. “To Hufflepuff House,” 

Authors Note:

Happy birthday Harry, Y/n Potter! Hope you enjoyed this weekends chapter! I don't know when the next one will be, hopefully soon, but this Monday I'm starting my last semester at school, so wish me luck! A lot of the characters that'll be showin' up will most likely be OC's, so I'm plannin' on doing an introduction to Hufflepuff house students of Hogwarts soon so you'll get a feel of them when they get older! Thanks for reading! xx

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@officialsaturn

@mysticanxy

So you already know that the Rugrats main cast is all voiced by females so I have a headcanon that Harold was a female before but felt unsatisfied about how he feels as a woman so he felt more comfortable as well a he. So his past name was Harriet and Harold is the best name he came up with.

MoomiN haS priDe flaG he says LGBTQIA+ RIGHTS!

Fantastic. I have nothing else to add to this gloriousness

welcome to the world of my story, crown of flowers! I hope you enjoy these angsty teenagers and the chaos they make as much as I do!

Friday Kiss Tag!

Saw this posted by @the-golden-comet and you bet your fanglovin' ass I'm jumping on this one. 🔥

From Seven Circles 🌐: Ch13, Inquiries.

(I cut the scene before it gets explicit but here's a soft tw anyway for kissing with sexual intent 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨)

Klaus's gaze follows those hands. What he's considering is.... entirely unheard of for Nexi to do for a PA, and yet... He steps closer, crowding Kazimier. "Then take it." He murmurs. The shifter worries his lip with a fang, suddenly so close to the warm skin of the other man. He recalls the Nexi's reaction the first time Kazimier tried to top him. No biting. He'd have to hold back, do less. Even if Klaus' lust holds that touch of bitter flavor that yearns for claws down his back and teeth at his throat.. Kazimier yanks Klaus forward, hand crumpled in his crisp button-up, and their lips crash together. Immediately the hungered incubus is groaning at the taste- feeling that lust appear from the un-sense-able void. Kazimier’s other hand grips Klaus' waist as his hips press forward in search of friction.

I didn't realize 13 chapters pass before a kiss happens and I LOVE that! It really fits with sex not being inherently intimate for these characters (cuz they have sex apleanty before ch13 😏) and kissing.. it takes a bit of time for them to get comfortable enough to do.

Tagging new writblr followers 🫰 @orphanheirs @marlowethelibrarian and @aalinaaaaaa (no pressure tho! And if you have no kiss scenes, share one of a character eating? 🤷) Or anyone else who may have a smooch to share! 💋

I really need to start a tag list at some point..

Heeyyy :> I would like the biggest infodump on Kazimier you have pls. All the details.

A 💋Kazimier💋 infodump?!? Oh goodness, where do I start 😵‍💫 (Also thank you for asking!). I'm going dump a few favorite things, if I try to dump it all in one Imma be typing instead of feeding myself today 😂

(He's tagged #7c kazi on everything I've posted on him so far if you're somehow thirsty for more after this)

💋Who:

Kazimier (Kashj-meer), an OC for my story 7 Circles

He's not sure what his parents named him, but as a kid he had this Cashmere sweater that acted as his safety blanket and eventually 'brat in the Cashmere sweater' became 'hey Cashmere'. He decided on the spelling when he learned to read/write.

💋What:

Shapeshifter Incubus Hybrid.

Genderfuid (pronouns based on appearance).

On the asexual spectrum.

Just shy of 6 feet tall.

Very likely autistic.

A bastard.

(Feel free to hit me w/specific what questions cuz this can get real outta hand)

💋Where:

He's not sure where he was born, but he's been in Du’Preve as long as he can remember.

Du'Preve is the 4th and final district of the Halkyon Empire. It's a place that's big and abrasive like New York, full of sleezy entertainment like Las Vegas, and is a trashy dupsterfire like the Jersey turnpike.

Du'Preve is home to vampires, gorgons, gargoyles, litches, and hybrids. Collectively they're called Du'Preve'd, darklings, 4th class, nightcrawlers, or just 'lowers'.

But recently he got caught by the govt system and shipped out to District 1 🫶 sucks to suck.

💋When/history:

I don't want to give up tooooo much. 🤔Hmm. He's almost 300yrs old. No clue who his parents were but was a cute kid who found means to shelter himself. A couple centuries and a lot of trauma later and he's a calculating distrustful member of the criminal underground willing to do whatever it takes to avoid revisiting the past.

💋Why (did I make him?):

The thought for my wip 7 Circles began during quarantine 2020. I had nothing to do, nowhere to go, and when my school semester ended my skin was crawling with creativity that didn't have an outlet. So I gave in and downloaded tiktak.

Im a drag persormer/cosplayer and ended up on the side of the app where folks collaborate on settings and interact in-character as their ocs to create a story. I joined as my OC Kazimier and not long after, I began interacting with the charming, dark-eyed OC, 'Klaus Calvaire'. We started messaging to plot story collabs.. then started messaging just to say hi.. then messaged our lives to one another.

This witty, handsome, well-written person was flattering me enough by collaborating so much with me- then they fell in love with me, moving 1000s of miles to live life alongside me. I'm humbled every morning that I'm dating the mind behind my internet crush, and we share whispers about our ocs as we hold one another each night.

The og tag group splintered, the clock app is no longer great for my brain, but Kazimier and Klaus are still going on adventures alongside me and my unlikely lover, 4yrs and over 100k words later. ❤️

💋How (did he come to be?):

Personality was originally based on what I thought would be interesting to write, but then I accidentally added chemical X (my truma) and ended up with a bastard.

As for his looks.. they're based off my drag performance style/makeup🫣. Like.. he was a cosplay before he was really a character. It's embarrassing and strange and delightful all at once that this mf kinda looks like me. 😳

Soooooo, Yeah! He's my most developed blorbastard so there's a lot more, but I'll leave the rest for more asks. If you have further q's feel free to send them!

Hope this wasn't too much of an overload lol if you made it this far thank you so so much, I hope the muses bless your wip 🙏

angel dust redesign because I'm mad he doesn't have butt fluff also I had soooooo much trouble trying to fit him in my artystle and I still hate it

omg this was so rushed and I will definitely be redrawing this piece in the future (inspired by @maricantstandyou 's post go check them out)

tall girlfriend problems (forgive vaggies nose I'm still trying to find a way to fit her nose shape in my artystle front the front view)

Human Alastor