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hirukochan · 9 months

Text

Ambushed

A Severus SnapexFem!Reader Oneshot

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader

Summary: After your former Professor murdered Albus Dumbledore a few weeks after your one-nightstand you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Smut, catcalling, blood, injury

Wordcount: 5000

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

Life has become significantly darker since the death of Albus Dumbledore. You hear rumours of the Ministry falling, about Death Eaters taking over and You-Know-Who rising. From the perspective of the public all that hasn’t happened. Everybody can feel the change and taste the misery hanging in the air between abandoned and destroyed shops in Diagon Alley.

The rich fuck you work for is paying you extra because you decided to stay. You aren’t going to let yourself be scared into running away!

You started evening courses at a small university in Aberdeen a few months ago. Enchanted Art. For what? Hell if you know, but art sounded good. You however aren’t…good. Not at all, but it’s fun. You enrolled a few days after what you now call ‘the worst mistake of your life’.

Severus Snape.

Death Eater.

Murderer.

Newly appointed headmaster of Hogwarts.

And you fucked him. Just three weeks before he killed Albus Dumbledore, a man who trusted him.

The Daily Prophet and the Ministry are framing Harry Potter for it. There is a large manhunt going on with a bounty on Potter’s head. The boy has disappeared from the face of the earth.

You saw him at the funeral in Hogwarts. Many former students came to say their goodbyes to Dumbledore. You went out of shame and guilt. It doesn’t make any sense for you to feel like that. Neither did you know what Snape was planning nor did you support him in any way. And yet, just knowing you had that man in your bed is eating at you.

You sway and stumble but can catch yourself on the side of an abandoned building. Death Eaters have been attacking Diagon Alley for months, even before You-Know-Who came to power, but never your shop. You guess it’s because a second-hand bookshop is absolutely useless. You don’t even have many customers! The shop is not profitable whatsoever.

You rub your eyes and push yourself off the wall to continue your less than straight way back to your flat. You’ve been drinking with the Weasley twins who run the joke shop a few streets away from yours. They are one of the few shops still open like you. They were three years under you and always good for a laugh though you were never friends with them. Now out of school and in the same boat you get along well.

And drinking alone is pathetic.

You are pathetic, but not that pathetic.

Not yet.

You squeeze through an alley. Just another corner and you’d be there. You’re too drunk to apparate and apparition can suck it anyway.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing out all alone?” A male voice calls out to you. You ignore it. You are really not in the mood to be accosted now and your wand might just slip.

You grip it tighter in your pocket. One could not be careful enough these days. Perhaps you should have taken Georges’ offer of walking you home.

“I’m talking to you!” He sounds angry now. Just fuck off. Just turn around and fuck off or better come here and give me something to let my aggressions out on. “Stuck up cunt!” You are whirled around by your shoulder and thrown against a wall. The air is pressed out of your lungs and your back aches.

The blurry face of a sleazy looking man comes into view but in the next second he’s gone. You blink. Your alcohol drenched brain needs some time to catch up. Then a scream rips through the night and you recoil. Everything in you screams to run. To turn around and take off, to save yourself, but your eyes are glued to the man on the ground, writhing and screaming, his body shaken by endless, never-ending agony.

Steps echo through the night and your head snaps up. A tall, dark figure moves towards you. Black robes, dark hair- for a second you think it’s Snape and you don’t know how to feel at that and even less how to deal with the sting of treacherous disappointment when you notice he’s too slim and too short to be Snape.

Moonlight reflects off a silver mask. You grip your wand tighter, terrified of what’s going to happen next.

A Death Eater.

A real fucking Death Eater right in front of you! And you’re still not running. Why the fuck are you not running?

“Tsk tsk tsk.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his hand. The man’s screams have stopped, replaced by a strangled, gurgling sound that somehow sounds so much worse. Your blood freezes in your veins and you start shivering. This is it. This is how you die. Drunk and on your way home. Just a street away! Away from safety, though you suspect that it’s a false feeling. A lie.

There is no safety left in Britain.

“Has your mummy never taught you, you mustn’t touch what isn’t yours?” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue again. A green light illuminates the alley. It paints grotesque shadows onto the silver mask and the wall behind him.

You scream. Shock and pain are ripping the sound out of the wall of your throat and haul it into the night. You cover your mouth with your hands. Tears sting in your eyes. You don’t want to die here.

Your heart pounds in your chest, strong and fast, declaring it has many good years still left, refusing to back down but also trapped by a rich net, woven from terror and dread.

“You shouldn’t be out so late.” The Death Eater says. His voice is slightly muffled by the mask, but he sounds young. So terribly young. Perhaps around the twins’ age? Did he go to school with you? You don’t recognise his voice, but you are in shock. Right? Yes, shock. He just killed someone! Like it’s nothing! To think you might have sat next to him in the Great Hall or the library…

“It’s not safe. Best run along now.”

You blink. Confused. He is letting you go? Why would he let you go? He rips his sleeve up, revealing a jet-black tattoo on his underarm, one that you’ve never seen before but recognise regardless.

“That’s a fucking order!” You flinch. And then you’re running. Running down the street and not stopping until you’ve reached the door to your flat. Your fingers tremble so much you struggle to get the key into the keyhole. You use every single protection charm you know on the door after you’ve closed behind yourself. You’ve gotten good at casting them. You had to.

“What the fuck.” You whisper to yourself, back leaned against the wall and wand clutched to your chest. “What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!” A Death Eater just fucking let you go! He tortured someone for attempting to assault you and then killed him.

He fucking killed him.

You watched someone die.

What the fuck.

Oh Merlin and Grímhildr and god and Jesus fucking Christ!

‘Mustn’t touch what isn’t yours’ What does that mean? You’re not some object to be owned!

“Maybe he has a crush on me?” You think out loud. Yeah…maybe that guy really did use to go to school with you? Maybe he- you have no idea but what other reason would there be? Would a Death Eater disapprove of assaulting women? Somehow you find that hard to believe.

The incident does not leave your mind. You become paranoid. Always checking your steps and looking around for that glimmer of light catching on a silver mask. Often you’d look out of your windows, watching the empty street but you don’t see the young Death Eater again. You expect him to come back any day to finish you off

One day you arrive at the Leaky Cauldron after your evening classes tired and hungry. It’s a little after ten and you decide to eat in the pub instead of cooking. An hour later you step outside and apparate onto the steps in front of the door to your flat. You secure the door with your usual spells and kick off your shoes before hurrying up the stairs. You want nothing more than to collapse into your bed-

Something isn’t right. It’s the faintest difference. A smell that is not quite right. A whisper of magic in the air that does not belong to you. The small hairs on your nape stand and your stomach clenches. You grip your wand tighter.

There is something on your floor. A large black something.

“What the fuck?” You mutter and drop your hand to your side. “What the fuck? No no no- get the fuck up, Snape!” He doesn’t move. He is lying face down in a puddle of blood in the middle of your flat. Where did he come from? How did he get in? Why is he here?

You kick him.

It sounds like a logical choice in your head.

He doesn’t move.

“I have a Death Eater in my flat, on my floor. I have a dying Death Eater on my floor!” You panic. You are panicking. You kick him again. Nothing changes. “Shit shit shit!” You could just…kick him down the stairs and lock the door? How did he get in here?!

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-” What do you do? What can you do? Why is he here?

For lack of a better plan, you kick him again, but despite how gratifying it feels to let your aggression out on him you have to come up with a better idea. You can’t just keep kicking him!

Wary of the Death Eater on your floor you kneel down and press two fingers to the pulse point on his neck, ready to jump backwards at any point. His skin is burning up. What happened?

You can’t just kick him down the stairs. It’s tempting. He’d deserve it- but that isn’t you. Besides it would take the Death Eaters not even two seconds to figure out who left him there to die and they might come back to hurt you.

You heave him into your bed and peel the blood-soaked clothes from his chest. There is a deep gash across his side. Blood steadily runs down his pale skin. What happened to him?

“He’s a Death Eater that’s what fucking happened to him.” You scold yourself. “And you are fucking helping him- fuck! Why did you choose my flat to die in, Snape?!” You flick your wand at him, and his own wand comes flying through the air, landing in your hand. You shove it into your pocket.

Snape looks like shit. He’s thinner than a few months ago, his skin paler and dark, deep shadows have seemingly permanently attached themselves to the skin under his eyes.

The glorious Death Eater that defeated Albus Dumbledore.

You scoff.

“Good- that is that…disarming the Death Eater that is twice your size and can probably do wandless magic…or simply snatch them back from you because let’s be honest here - we aren’t a fighter!” You have no idea who you are talking to, but you feel hysteric and talking to oneself is what hysteric people do. Right? Right?

“Please don’t die here and start haunting me!”

“I’m not dying.” Snape grunts and you scream.

“Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- you scared the living shit out of me! What the fuck are you doing here?” Without bothering to answer you, he examines the wound on his side. He grimaces.

“I advise you against attempting that.” The deep, velvety rumble of voice makes you shudder in all the wrong ways. You keep your wand trained on him anyway.

“Get the fuck out of my flat!” You hiss, raising your wand higher, keeping it aimed at him.

“So hostile.” He tuts. “Did I leave you unsatisfied last time?”

“You’re a murderer!” Your voice is shaking, tears pool in your eyes and you have no fucking idea why you feel betrayed. You hadn’t spoken to Snape in five years before your one-night stand. But had you known…had you known he is a Death Eater you would have never let him into your bed.

“Yes.” Snape says and he somehow sounds bitter. What right has he to be bitter? “I heard you ran into some…trouble.” You shove your wand in his face and perhaps he sees in your eyes how serious you are, a faint promise of hexing him or something else, but he raises his bloodied hands slightly as if to tell you he isn’t a danger.

“Do you have a first-aid-kit? So I can get out of your hair.” You look at him, considering. You could make him leave. “I’m not a danger to you.” To you. To others, yes, but not you. You have no idea how to feel about that thinly veiled confession. You flick your wand towards your bathroom. Snape rummages through your first-aid-kit.

“Who the fuck doesn’t stock dittany?” He asks, glaring up at you while aggressively opening the fuckton of buttons on his robes. Who needs so many buttons?

“Why would I have fucking dittany? Sorry I did not expect you would choose my home to almost fucking die in!”

“I wouldn’t have died!” He sneers.

“Tell that to the puddle of blood on my floor. Why are you here?” He hesitates. His shoulders droop and he stops messing with his clothes. Something profoundly vulnerable flashes through his eyes.

“Where else would I go?” And that is that apparently. He peels back layers of blood-soaked clothes, and you try not to ogle him. He hadn’t taken off much of his clothes when he fucked you…

The moonlight hides the currently sickish undertones of his pale skin, making him look like one of those marble statues you’ve seen in a muggle museum once. His skin is littered with scars, a visual reminder that this man is a Death Eater - a fact your body is more than willing to ignore judging by the uncomfortable, damp spot in your knickers.

You watch him patch himself up from a safe distance, your wand pointed at him at all times. His fingers tremble, his skin is chalky pale and beads of sweat cling to his forehead, but his movements are precise and purposeful.

And yet-

You have never seen him like this.

Small somehow.

Vulnerable.

“I was told you were assaulted.” His voice is quiet, he usually speaks soft and quiet - a man like he never has any trouble getting a classroom full of hormonal teenagers to shut it. But today it’s different. There is something…inherently broken about the way he says the words and it gives you pause.

“So what? You decided to break in? Who do you think you are that you get to check up on me?” You spit the words at him because if you don’t, you might do other things and you really can’t afford that.

“That wasn’t-” He inhales sharply and impossibly enough pales even more. You summon a glass of water. “Thank you.” He whispers and downs the whole thing in one go.

“Wouldn’t want your cult friends to show up here because I let you die.”

“You should be careful what you say.” He doesn’t say it as a threat. He says it softly, with dread mixing into his worry.

“I thought you weren't a danger to me.”

“Plenty of people are.”

“Right…then. You know where the door is.” You nod towards it. Snape rises to his feet - far more graceful and steady than he has any right to with how shit he looks. He comes closer and you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge of stepping back. He comes closer still, his much larger frame hovering above you and any sliver of thinking Snape is small evaporates into thin air.

His silky hair falls into his face and hides it in the shadows of your flat, with only the moon illuminating the small space.

You take a shaky breath and attempt to ignore the heat between your bodies or the way your heart beats all wrong. His eyes have an intensity to them that makes you shudder and involuntarily recall how his hands felt on you…his breath dancing across your skin…the way he tastes-

“You still have my wand.” He says, his voice impossibly deeper and smokey and his eyes- these damn stunning stupid eyes that burn into yours, whispering promises of things you can’t even begin to wrap your mind around.

You automatically close your fingers tighter around your own wand. He is so close now the tip of it digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. Like the threat of a curse does not even affect him, like he doesn’t give a shit that you could simply kill him right now or perhaps it’s arrogance. He believes you incapable of it - which is the truth but still! Is it asking too much to want him to be at least a little afraid?

Snape reaches out and his hand brushes over your side and you inhale sharply.

There must have been a lapse in the fabric of time - in the universe itself because suddenly you are kissing. You don’t know why or how but the wands clatter to the ground and Snape’s hands are on you and your body scream fuck the universe because this feels right.

Snape’s arms wrap around your smaller form and press you to his chest and you let him, weaving your hands into his hair while he claims your mouth with a feral hunger. You moan into the kiss and lean into his touch and try to smother the whisper in your head repeating the last two words you’d want to hear right now over and over.

Death Eater

You slide your tongue over his. There is a faint taste of iron in the kiss but it doesn’t matter. Snape’s fingers dig into your flesh like he is trying to devise a way to never have to let you go again.

He clings to you like a dying man to life.

Death Eater

He stumbles backwards and takes you with him, plopping down on the bed and pulling you into his lap. It feels natural. Your bodies fit together like two puzzle pieces and something somewhere in the universe just clicks.

You run your hands down his neck and over his shoulder, noting how much thinner he feels now compared to last time. You shove his frock and dress shirt down his shoulders. The feeling of his naked skin against your hands feels electrifying. A buzzing prickle seeping into your body through the pad of your fingers and spreading throughout your very being like blazing wildfire, pooling deep in your belly.

Death Eater

You moan into the kiss and grind against Snape, feeling his hard cock against your core through your knickers.

Death Eater

Two pairs of hands drop to his fly at one, frantically fumbling with buttons and stumbling over each other. Snape retreats and returns to thoroughly groping your arse under your skirt. You manage to free his cock and Snape helps lift your hips. You push your soaked knickers away and align his cock with your entrance.

“Fuck I forgot how big you are-” You hiss at the stretch. Snape kisses your neck and nibbles on your collarbone.

“Have you been with someone since-?” He leaves the question open. Further specifications aren’t needed. You are still slowly lowering yourself on his prick, until the delicious kind of stretch turns to a stinging stretch where you pause to give yourself time to adjust.

“-no.” You pant. Snape groans against your sternum and wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close. He kisses down your chest and over your breasts. Nuzzling you through the fabric of your blouse.

“Fucking hell-” You mutter once he is finally sheathed inside you. You’re out of breath and sweaty and so so full. His cock is throbbing against your inner walls, hot and thick and you need a moment to collect yourself.

“So good.” Snape groans and continues peppering kisses over your chest. You whimper in response. “You take my cock so fucking good-” He rips your blouse open and shoves your bra up, locking his lips around your nipple instantly. You moan and cling to his shoulders. Snape licks broad strokes over your nipple, alternates between sucking and kissing and grazing you with his teeth.

His lust-drenched sounds make you squirm in his arms and arousal leak over his cock, soiling his trousers.

It takes a little moment for you to get a hang of how to move on top of him, but once you’ve figured it out, you earn approving groans from Snape.

“Fucking missed you.” He murmurs against your skin.

“Did you now?” You raise a brow.

“I’m talking to your tits, dear.”

“You have issues.” You moan and sink back down on his cock.

“I thought we had already established that.”

“Yeah, when you decided my floor was the proper place to die!”

“Wouldn’t have died.” He groans and locks his lips around your nipple again. You cradle his head with your arms and rest your cheek against the crow of his head while bobbing up and down his length in an unsteady, unrefined rhythm.

Snape doesn’t seem to care.

And neither do you really.

The voice in your head shut up a while ago and you bid farewell to it, telling it to never come back.

Snape inhales sharply and you stop instantly.

“Did I hurt you?” You ask, unable to keep the worry out of your voice. Snape’s face is contorted in pain. He reaches for the footboard of your bed and his knuckles turn white under the force with which he holds onto it.

“Lie down.” You murmur and push against his shoulders gently. Snape looks at you both irritated and untrusting, but he eventually (less than gracefully) lowers his back onto the mattress.

You reposition yourself above him and lean back to brace your hands against his thighs right above his knees. Slowly you begin moving again. It feels awkward for a while but then you find the right angle and Snape presses his fingers against your clit, stroking tender circles over the throbbing bundle of nerves and pleasure overshadows any feeling of awkwardness.

“You’ve always been a fast learner.” Snape groans. “Such a studious girl.”

“When the subject interests me.” You chuckle and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Am I an interesting subject?”

“Hmm…Certainly one I can’t seem to escape.” You raise your hips and sink back down, moaning in tune with the delicious stretch of his girth.

“Do you plan on almost dying on my floor in the future?”

Snape laughs, an uneasy sound accompanied by a concerning rattling sound coming from his lungs. “Are you planning on stocking Dittany in the future?”

“Nah, but I was thinking about getting a runner and- ow!” He slaps your thigh, not hard, but a pleasant sting runs through your flesh and the sudden slapping sound startled you. “Bastard.” You hiss and push yourself up, planting your hands on either side of his head, careful to avoid the dark strands of hair spread out around his head.

“Is that the thanks I get?”

“Thanks?” He hums. An expression of raw pleasure flickers over his face and it pulls you in, captures you like a fly in a sticky trap - and like a fly in a sticky trap you realise the danger you are in just by associating with Snape, not to mention by fucking him.

You never thought yourself to be a morally depraved woman but here you are, with the enemy quite literally in your bed.

An injured, weakened enemy.

As if you’d have a chance against Severus Snape no matter how weak he is! No, leave the heroism to other people, people that value their lives less or think the world will be grateful for their heroism.

You close your eyes and lean down to meet Snape’s lips, to get lost in the feeling of a warm body against yours, the mechanical workings of what a romance would feel like, to draw some comfort from a man that is willingly giving it to you when all other male specimens on this earth seem to not give a shit about you.

“Started University.” You murmur against his lips. Snape has put his hands on your arse and is helping your movement, pulling you and down on his cock, guiding your cunt or using it for his own pleasure or revelling in having a former student of his so messed up she lets him fuck her.

“I heard. I’m glad.” He mutters back and takes your bottom lip between his teeth.

“Keeping taps on me?”

“Only a little.” And it’s back to kissing. Wet, heated, burning kisses. And passion or maybe erratic obsession but if obsession feels this good what does it matter?

The heat of his tongue against yours, his hands squeezing your arse, his breath dancing over your face, his cock spearing open your cunt repeatedly, it collects inside you, runs through your limbs and veins and fills your whole body. You can feel it rushing alongside your blood, feel your body respond to it by picking up the pace of your heartbeat, sweet clinging to your skin, especially on your thighs that straddle Snape’s. It floats through your body and eventually pools in your lower belly and deep inside your cunt, welcoming Snape’s prick on each thrust by splitting into two and regenerating like cell division-

Heat grows and morphs and hardens into a brooding mass that threatens to rip free of you. It scratches against your insides, searching desperately for a way out, a way to release this pressure and then Snape presses his thumb down on your clit and it rips free of you. Snape thrust up into you in one hard stroke and he groans, his grip on your arse tightening and you collapse above him and he pulls you down by putting his arms around your torso - his wound long forgotten by both of you.

His cock throbs as he spills inside you, splatters of warm, sticky cum painting your inner walls and with a content hum you rock against his softening cock to relish the last flickers of your orgasm.

Snape grunts - a pained one this time - and you push your trembling body up and lift your hips to sit down on the bed next to him. His now limp cock slips out of you and you hate that you miss the feeling of it, hate the emptiness left behind. You pull your knees to your chest and lean against the headboard of your bed, staring at the window just to not look at Snape.

“I-” Snape begins but stops himself. With another pained grunt he sits up and does the many buttons of his clothes back up. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face, raking through his hair. “I will try to not almost die on your floor again.”

“Good.” You want to sound stern, but it comes out sounding exhausted and confused.

“Good.” He murmurs. A knock on your door rips you from your thoughts. Who would knock so late? Perhaps it’s your elderly neighbour…

You pick your wand up from the floor and fix your skirt and blouse and walk towards the door.

Still caught in a whirlwind of confusing and contradicting feelings and perhaps Snape’s presence has led you to let down your guard a little, whatever it is you forget to cast your detection charms before opening the door-

Silver glimmers in the moonlight. You recognise the mask. It’s the young Death Eater that killed the man who wanted to assault you. He is flanked by two taller Death Eaters. Whatever you had wanted to say gets stuck in your throat as it swells shut. Just out of their sight you grip your wand tighter.

“Miss.” The young one says. “Apologies for the interruption.” Why the fuck is a Death Eater addressing you so polite? Movement behind you catches your attention but you don’t dare move.

“Was I not clear enough when I said this shop is not to be disturbed.” Snape drawls and all hints of pain or injury have left his voice. He looms behind you, tall and menacing and you can actually see the taller Death Eaters shrink back.

“My mistake. Again, apologies, Miss. Your presence is requested, Sir.” The younger one says to Snape.

“Do not repeat it in the future.” Snape scoffs. He ignores them and closes the door.

You can’t seem to find your voice again.

“This all will be over soon.”

“How do you know?” You whisper, uncertain what Snape means. What will be over? The resistance? You-Know-Who? His presence in your life?

“I hope you won’t have to see me again.” His lips brush your forehead ever so slightly, his fingertips dancing over your arms.

He turns to leave.

“Snape-” You don’t know what to say. His eyes linger on you for a moment, you think to see something flash in them, a hint of some deeply buried emotion but then he turns, opens the door again and he is gone.

You lean your forehead against the smooth wood. You can still feel his touch lingering-

A sob tears through the silence and you press your hand to your mouth as you sink to the floor and you don’t even know why. You kneel on the floor in front of your door and sob and cry.

When you eventually regain your composure and return to your flat you are met with the sight of drying blood…

The next day you go to the apothecary down the street and buy a bottle of Dittany.

| Part 3 |

#severus snape x reader #ao3 fanfic #snape x reader #snape x you #severus snape smut #dividers by cafekitsune

720 notes · View notes

theemporium · 10 months

Note

Would you consider writing part two for the last Remus story? I can't deal with them not admitting they love each other and getting together 😭

poor little james blurb got put on hold for this but oh well!! thank you for requesting and i hope this makes up for the last blurb🖤

part one

Remus Lupin had come to realise that life was absolutely horrible and pointless without you in it.

It had been almost a month since you walked away from him in the library, and Remus didn’t think his life could get much worse than seeing you not even look back at him but did. He was forced to confront the habits he gained over the years of your friendship.

He would prepare a cup of coffee in the morning for you, only to realise you were on the other side of the Great Hall.

He would excitedly rush to your dorm to tell you about a book he just read, only to be told by one of your roommates that you were out for the night.

He would hear your laugh in between classes or in the corridors, and his head would be snapping around to see if he could even catch a glimpse of your smile.

Remus Lupin was miserable without you and everyone could see that.

James and Sirius had tried to cheer him up. Lily had tried to coax him on weekends out to Hogsmeade. Marlene and Dorcas had even tried their fair hand in trying to get a peak of the old Remus back, but it was useless.

It was Mary who had the idea of trying to get the two of you to reconcile. However, approaching you was never going to work considering the fact you weren’t talking to any of them either. And they doubted Regulus would be any help in persuading you into talking to them.

It left only one reasonable option—trapping the two of you in a room until you worked out your differences.

Remus was easy enough to convince. It felt a bit dodgy to be using his general exhaustion from the full moon that just passed against him, but he didn’t put up much of a fight as they led him towards the Quidditch closet out by the field. You were a little more difficult, but it didn’t mean they hadn’t managed to do much, your fists pounding on the door the second you heard the lock click.

But it was useless. You were trapped.

And then you turned around, finding Remus sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. There were dark bags under his eyes and his cheeks looked a little more sunken in that they usually did after a full moon. He looked paler and you noted the new scar slashed across his cheek, fresh and not fully healed yet.

“Oh.”

But he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you. Partly because he was convinced he was imagining it and partly because he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he would ruin the first chance he had to see you in weeks.

You squirmed a little under his intense gaze, turning to try and shove the door open a few more times. But with no wand and your non-verbal spellcasting skills amatuer at best, you were forced to accept your fate.

You settled on the floor, leaning against the wall across from him so you were forced to meet his gaze. Neither one of you said anything at first and it felt wrong. It was rare you didn’t know what to say to each other, and in the moments where silence did fall, it was nothing but comfortable.

But this was tense, awkward even. And neither of you knew how to navigate it.

Much to both of your surprise, it was Remus who spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” he started and you froze, unsure if he had actually spoken or if you imagined it. But when you lifted your head, his eyes were wide and pleading and you knew you heard him correctly.

“Remus—”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he continued, cutting you off and you pressed your lips together as you listened to him. “I did trust you,” he said before pausing to correct himself. “I do trust you. And I’m sorry I never told you—”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognise yourself.

“I was protecting—”

“The real reason, Remus,” you said sternly. “Give me the truth, I at least deserve this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes falling to focus on the ground between his feet as he spoke. “People’s opinions of me change when I tell them my secret,” he confessed. “Even if they don’t mean for it to, it does. It happened with the boys, it happened with Lily and Dorcas and Mary and Marlene. The few professors that know, it changed their perspective too. I hate it.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I hate the pitying looks they give me after a full moon, I hate the way they treat me like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces,” he muttered with a bitter laugh, before he lifted his head and looked at you. “I couldn’t see that with you. The others…I could deal with but I didn’t want you to change how you saw me. I didn’t want you to stop looking at me like I was worth something.”

You swallowed the emotions that laid thick in the back of your throat. “Remus, I could never.”

“But you did,” he said with a grim smile. “And it is my fault you did so.”

“Because you were a self-deprecating idiot who should have realised I knew all along,” you murmured and gave him a soft smile, and something like hope flared in his chest.

“That I am,” he admitted with a nod. “I’m sorry, love.”

“You and those puppy dog eyes are too hard to resist, Lupin,” you grumbled as you shuffled across the small closet, making your way towards him until you were straddling his lap. “I’m still angry at you.”

Remus' face fell a little but he nodded. “I understand.”

“But I still love you so I get to do this,” you murmured and before he could even process what was happening, you were grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his.

Remus melted into your touch instantly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling your body down until you were fully situated on his lap. He kissed you back eagerly, his tongue darting out to lick and tease you like he had been dreaming of doing since he knew what the feelings he had meant. He let out a small whimper when you nipped his lip, a noise that only got louder when you pulled away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Remus,” you whispered, your forehead pressed against his. “But you’re my idiot.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my stupidity as long as you keep calling me yours, love,” Remus whispered back, lifting his head to peck your lips. “I love you too.”

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jals-stuff · 1 month

Note

Hihi! First of all I LOVE your writing and thank you for feeding us hungry Orter fans with your work (I have been STRAVING for his fic) so if you don't mind, I have a little request! So I imagine in a what if Orter has a crush on someone (aka us and ofc we gotta like the sandman back) who's always on a dangerous mission due to how strong they are who is ALSO his partner time to time and one day, they just went into a coma from overusing their magic. MAYBE when they woke up, the two will confess to each other or?? Idk I will let you cook 🧑‍🍳

(Sorry if my wording is a little confusing!)

good day/evening anon! your wording is just fine no worries

first of all, thank you SO much, this brightened my day by a lot, you have absolutely no clue what kind of serotonin torrent you have unleashed. I am glad at least some people like my writings, that's why I'm doing it.

I don't think this is 100% close to what you described, but I hope you'll like it regardless-

Should be gn!reader if I didn't mess it up...

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILIES, bit dark, mentions of death, bit of despair... not proofread I am so sorry.

word count: 2.8k

note: I apologise for any dumb mistakes because I physically cannot proofread myself at 6am but if I don't post it now I won't do it ever. please don't hate me anon

What if...

As much as he hates to admit it (to himself, of course), Orter had grown a little bit too fond of you. The way you greet him whenever you come back from a mission, or the way you always make sure to respect the rules and act logically while also protecting everyone around you when the two of you would go on missions together.

The way you whine when your legs are tired after walking long distances, the way you always bring him a little something to eat when you know it’s going to be a long trip. You’ve always been good to everyone, much opposed to the cold man; but it wasn’t the only difference between the two of you.

Everyone has their own logic and, as much as you respected your own, his was quite different. While you wanted to take every single possibility into consideration, he preferred not to overload his mind with useless statistics and just think of a solution when the time comes.

However, a lot of things aren’t affected by logic, such as feelings, and how could the dense sandman guess that you were absolutely enamoured with him? These were variables he would’ve never imagined, even though he was painfully into you as well.

Of course, he was your top priority, and protecting him from harm even though he was a rather powerful mage was of the utmost importance. He should’ve known that when the two of you recklessly charged into enemy territory in an attempt to weaken the devil’s quintuplets before they would be on the move.

Orter was a man of many things, but “what if''s were not part of his usual reasoning, and that was the biggest mistake of his life. However he only realised it too late when you had to break your own limits to make sure he’d go back safely. It was time to retreat, but the two of you had been completely cornered.

Having a dormant god inside of your wand had many benefits, but Psyche was not an entity to be trifled with. The Soul Goddess would, each time you requested even a fraction of her power, take a huge toll on your stamina and sanity, and this time it was more than critical.

You were already exhausted from using so much of your mana, and now you were completely surrounded by Innocent Zero's sons. Unleashing your Psyche Inclination and ordering all of the quintuplets to sleep immediately surpassed your own boundaries.

You knew what would happen if you pushed beyond your limits with your personal magic, but it was completely worth it. After all, what was the point of living anymore if the only person you loved was dead?

All of them were immensely powerful, and neutralising such strong enemies was not a meagre task. As soon as the last one fell to the ground in blissful slumber, you felt something rupture inside of you; like a used rope that suddenly lets go, your breath hitched and you collapsed to the floor.

It was all pitch black, and your consciousness kept you company just long enough to let you hear Orter’s panicked voice calling out for you. Yet somehow, despite the fact that you were falling into the pitch-black abyss, you felt relieved that he, above everything and everyone, was safe.

But anything beyond the confines of your darkened mind was unknown to you and despite your multiple attempts to open your eyes and wake up, everything went silent.

“No, no no…”

Had you been awake, you would’ve been astonished at how Orter had never been that distressed before, at least not in front of you. The loss of his dear friend Alex Elliot had taught him a painful lesson not to get attached to anyone and to simply stick to the rules, but he had let himself fall for you, and now he was experiencing the trauma once more.

“Please, no… not them…”

Not only were you unconscious, you had done this to yourself for his sake. He was aware of that fact; had you not decided to literally put yourself through such an ordeal, the two of you would be dead already.

But unlike his deceased junior, your heart was still beating and there was still time to save you. He had never run so fast in his entire life, carrying you carefully in his arms to bring you back to the Bureau’s infirmary, laying you down as gently as he could as the nurses rushed to assess your state.

You weren’t hurt, so to say, but the abusive usage of your personal magic had plunged you into a coma, and it was unsure if you would ever wake up from it.

It looked like you were peacefully asleep, maybe dreaming of a better place you would possibly join soon; unmoving and slowly breathing, as if nothing had happened. Orter knew you could possibly open your eyes anytime, and it kept him distracted every time he would fill his paperwork or go on a mission.

Whenever he had free time, he would rush to the infirmary to check on you, make sure you’re still breathing, or even talk to you. It could help you come back to your senses, or so the nurses said, and as ridiculous as he felt when he talked to your inert body, he would’ve done anything in his power to bring you back, as slim as the chances were.

But then it suddenly hit him. What could he possibly tell you if you ever woke up? He would for sure apologise, but other than that? How could he face you after you had quite literally sacrificed yourself for him? He wasn’t even sure he could look into your eyes again.

Did you resent him for this?

Would you forgive his recklessness?

Would you give him this warm smile he had gotten so used to?

And would it be time for him to finally admit his feelings? You were right here, in front of him, yet you weren’t there. He missed you so dearly, the sound of your voice, the shit eating grin you’d give him whenever he was wrong and you were right, the way you’d laugh at his disgruntled expression afterwards…

All of these interactions he thought annoyed him were now severely missed and he would’ve given anything to even just see the colour of your eyes one more time.

And see he didn’t, for what seemed to be an eternity. Everyday, when he’d come to visit you, a small part of him hoped your eyes would be open and you’d greet him the way you always did, but every time, he was met with your inanimate form, comfortably laid in the infirmary bed.

His hope of hearing your voice ever again gradually vanished with every one-sided conversation he had with your unconscious figure, swallowing down his emotions with every word he said. He was slowly accepting the fact that you might just never open your eyes again.

The more this thought settled into his mind, the more desperate he grew, and suddenly, his usual mindset faded away and his brain filled with “what if”s.

What if he had taken some time to listen to your suggestions, what if he had thought of a plan B like you always had? What if he had ever told you about his feelings, what if you loved him back? What if you didn't? What if you never woke up?

Dread took over on his other emotions and suddenly, it wasn’t hope that drove him to visit you everyday; it was despair. What if you never opened your eyes again? How could he ever live with your presence replaced by this horrifying feeling of guilt for letting you die in his place?

You were surely powerful enough that you could’ve ran away on your own, and left him behind if needed; it would’ve been the logical, reasonable thing to do. But the heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of. Of course, he should’ve known that you would never leave him behind, but precisely because it was completely illogical, it never occurred to him that you would willingly let yourself be hurt if he had a chance to make it out alive.

Now he was sitting at your bedside and kept hoping you’d wake up, just open your eyes and talk to him, greet him and say everything was going to be fine, just the way it was before… it seemed like he hadn’t heard your voice in an eternity, and it was weighing on him the whole time. Like a burden he would have to carry forever if you didn’t wake up from this coma you had put yourself into for his own sake.

His eyes never left your figure as he spoke to you kindly, as if you were still awake. Of course, occasional visitors would look at him like he was a lunatic, talking to someone who was obviously not here to answer, but it didn’t matter to him anymore.

Orter was ready to abandon his image for your sake, sometimes even skipping work and breaking his own principles so he could hold your hand for another minute before going on yet another perilous mission.

The thought of you dying peacefully in your sleep haunted his mind every single day, and his sorrow was great enough that, more than once, he did consider exhausting himself enough so he would be defenceless enough for an enemy to just take him out of his misery.

For weeks, months, his mind was plagued with the thought of you leaving him forever, of not being able to tell you about these feelings he thought were completely unnecessary. Shame and rejection didn’t even matter to him anymore and he just longed for the day you’d wake up and even just look at him.

He was on a mission, the day he heard that one of your fingers had merely twitched. Breaking protocol was far from his usual behaviour, but he needed to see you. That is how he accidentally drowned an entire area in sand, catching both enemies and harmless monsters in his Antlion’s Nest.

The rules didn’t matter to him anymore, it was a physical need to see if you were okay and to maybe, just maybe hear your voice.

However, he walked in on something completely different. Many of the other Divine Visionaries were gathered around you in religious silence, observing you. He had to push through the crowd and his heart stopped for a second when he saw you.

You were sitting up in your bed, slightly confused as to why everyone was staring like this. For you, mere seconds had passed but in reality it had been literal months. As your eyes travelled amongst the crowd, you saw Orter, who was also staring at you in utter disbelief.

The infirmary was completely silent, and no one was moving, as if time had suddenly stopped. Ryoh threw a glance at the others and they just silently left. Now it was just you and Orter, looking at each other in both confusion and shock. He stumbled towards the chair that was resting near your bed and he slowly took a seat.

“Well… you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Upon hearing your voice, he let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. It was like all of his burdens were suddenly lifted off his shoulders and his head and arms simply collapsed against the mattress, much to your confusion. You raised your hand to reach for his hair and upon seeing how your nails had grown so much, you realised something probably happened.

“It’s been months! I thought you’d never wake up! I thought I wouldn’t hear your voice ever again. Why on Earth would you do such a thing? No, no... it was all my fault. I'm sorry, (Y/N), I'm so, so sorry.”

He sounded angry, but he really wasn’t. You started connecting the dots and it took you a bit of time to understand that you had been unconscious for the past few months, worrying the poor sandman to death, though right now it didn’t matter at all.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Orter.”

Although you had been unconscious for literal months, seeing the Desert Cane unharmed was such a huge relief for you. However, not everything was swell inside his mind. He still felt extremely guilty that you nearly died for him, and nothing could possibly pay back this humongous debt he thought he owed you.

But seeing his relieved expression when he looked at you was enough of a payback. He had watched you wither away for months and now you were finally back to the world of the living, eyes focused on him and him only.

You tried to stand up but as soon as your arms attempted to lift your form, they gave out and you started losing balance. Orter immediately stood up from his chair to catch you, wrapping his arms around your now weak body to support you, but even after you were back to your spot, he wouldn’t let go. He simply sat on your bed next to you, not letting go.

Almost out of instinct, you rested your head on his shoulder and let out a long sigh, your arms raising up slightly.

“Please, just rest, you must be really exhausted.”

But his words just didn’t reach you, you needed this. After a while and a lot of effort, you managed to rest these weak arms of yours against his shoulders, on the sides of his neck, and he fell silent. You had no strength at all but he could feel you use all of your willpower to embrace him, and you also seemed like you wouldn’t let go.

He seemed fine with it as he slightly nuzzled your neck and closed his eyes, finally relaxing a little after this emotional rollercoaster. It felt so comfortable to finally be in his arms after such a long time spent longing for him, as if you were finally where you belonged.

“I missed you.” Orter said quietly, close to your ear. His arms tightened around and you would've probably cried hadn't you been so exhausted. Your words were stuck in your throat and you could only nod and hum softly, your voice cutting inside your throat.

His arms tightened around you further, holding you into a comforting hug, one of his hands gently going through your hair and keeping your head close to him. You exhaled again, wanting nothing more than to keep holding him.

“Just don't let go. Please.”

Your voice was muffled by his embrace but you were close enough to his ear for him to understand your words, and you could've sworn you heard his breath hitch for a second as his arms tightened even harder around you.

“I won't.” He sighs into your neck, comfortably seated on the side of your bed, and you wanted nothing more than to lay back down and have him hold you, but you were still in the infirmary and it would've been very problematic to be seen like this.

“I won't, ever. I can't.” He held you even closer now, like he was trying to merge with you, your chest and his pressed against each other as if to share your heartbeats.

Although you had never seen Orter being this close with anyone before, it all felt very natural. Just like the way his hand slid from your hair to your cheek, like the way he moved away from you slowly, his usually cold gaze now soft and filled with something you weren't quite used to.

Just like the way he couldn't take it any longer and gave in to the physical urge to softly press his lips to yours. You didn't pull away, of course; the moment too precious to let surprise ruin it.

You returned the kiss, your eyes now closed to take in the pleasant, wholesome warmth his embrace brought to you, after you'd been so cold for literal months.

As nothing lasts forever, your lips and his slowly separated, but his eyes were now on yours again.

“I won't let you fall again, (Y/N), I promise.”

You couldn't help but give a soft chuckle and his expression turned slightly puzzled. Of course, you two didn't share the same braincells.

“I've already fallen too hard.” You breathed out.

His eyes widened for a second before he regained his composure and brushed a few hairs away from your face to place them behind your ear.

“Then I guess we’re both down now.” he finally admitted, his expression just a little softer and his lips almost curved into a smile.

You were suddenly thankful for Orter holding you so close, lest your heart would've jumped out of your chest.

“I love you, just… in case it wasn't clear enough.” He awkwardly added, and you thought it was just adorable. Another chuckle escaped you with a nod.

“I know. I love you too.”

He hummed softly and sighed deeply in relief.

That was one “what if” finally satisfied, and probably the first of a long list.

#mashle x reader #orter madl #orter mádl #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #orter mádl x reader #orter madl x you #orter x reader #mashle orter #orter madl x reader

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anxiousnerdwritings · 1 year

Note

What would happen if Aunt reader had died rather than Lily? Like she takes the curse while protecting Harry but Lily and James are still alive?

Lily and James would be distraught. Lily especially takes it the hardest, she’s absolutely torn apart by the death of her sister. All this time she made it her life goal to protect and keep her younger sister safe, it was her responsibility as an older sister to do so after all, but in the end her beloved sister died protecting Lily and her family. Her sister died protecting Lily’s child and Lily would be forever grateful but that loss would never go away.

Lily would never truly recover from the loss of the Reader, she tries to go on with her life and raising Harry but she can’t help but think about how her sister should be alongside her every step of the way. Harry wouldn’t get to experience and make memories of his own with his precious aunt, he’ll never get to have any of it all because some crazed dark wizard stole it from him. From all of them. If anything the only thing he’ll ever really remember of his aunt is her sacrifice and the last words she ever said protecting him from Voldemort. Something that will later on haunt him once they’re made more apparent. But Lily wouldn’t let him grow up completely without the Reader, she makes sure he grows up knowing everything possible about his aunt, how much she cared about him, and how much of a prominent pillar she would have been to him. Every happy and meaningful moment ever regarding the Reader would be shared with him, to the point that he could recite them all on his own. Not to mention how much meaning was held for her among Lily, James, Sirius, Lupin and others as a whole. Lily would want Harry to know just how loved his aunt was and for him to grow up loving her all the same.

Petunia would wholeheartedly blame their sister’s death on Lily and her family, but mainly on Lily and Harry. If it weren’t for them her sister would still be alive. It overall causes an even more intense and detrimental riff between the two. Lily already blames herself enough for the Reader’s death but Petunia takes it to a whole other level. She even once told Lily that it should have been her who died, along with her freak child, that she selfish lives on when it should be their sister who should be here right now. Even though it was only ever uttered once it was more than enough to forever affect Lily, those words echoing in her head whenever the chance arose. Words she herself believed more and more as the days went on.

James would feel utterly defeated and useless. Of course he was happy and extremely grateful that his family was alive and well but his sister-in-law was his family too it was all at the cost of her that they were here now. If only he could have done something. If only he had his wand that night maybe the Reader would still be alive. If only. James knows very well what his wife is going through, they were all destroyed by the Reader death; Lily, him, Sirius, Remus, they all were going through it but he knew damn well his wife was having the hardest time and understandably so. All he could do was be there for her and help as much as he could/needed to with Harry to take some stress off of her. Although, caring for Harry seemed to be a way to keep herself occupied so her mind wouldn’t stray too far into the depths. James desperately tries to help Lily in water way he can, he doesn’t want to lose her either and there’s a good chance he might given just how severely she’s been affected by not having her beloved sister in her life anymore.

As heart wrenching and how selfish she knows it is to leave James and Harry, Lily would be more than temped to follow the Reader into the afterlife. She knows it’s terrible, she knows she needs to be strong for Harry especially and to be there for him but she can’t help but contemplate being reunited with her sister again and more times than not it sounds so appealing. But than Lily is reminded of the fact that her sister died so that Lily and her family could live, so giving that up would take away from the Reader’s sacrifice and Lily couldn’t do that. Instead she would live for the both of them.

Also, Lily would be absolutely over the moon if she and James had another child who grew up to look and act just like the Reader. Not only does she get a second chance at having a piece of her precious sister again but Harry will get to have some semblance of his aunt too. And seeing Lily so overjoyed is more than enough for James. The only difference is that this time around Lily will only be all the more intense and over protective of lookalike!Reader and she wholeheartedly will raise Harry to do the same. James takes notice of the overwhelming extremes his wife is taking this time around but he can’t blame her and would only enable her further.

#yandere lily evans #yandere james potter #yandere petunia evans #yandere harry potter #yandere harry potter concept #yandere concept

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cupid-styles · 5 months

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oh i BET

i swear hes jus such a teasy shit

he would do that and then be completely relentless with it like no stopping until he know she cant take it anymore

and mias just 🫠all teary eyed like in her head ‘i fucked up didnt i’

🤭🤭 this is absolutely filthy but it’s been a few days since I’ve posted any blurbs so ig im feeling a little unhinged?????

content warnings: bondage (ties and ball gag), crying, overstim, squirting, toy use, degradation, daddy kink

. . .

“Tell me you’re sorry.”

The thing is, she can’t. She’s completely at his mercy, just the way he likes it — her wrists are tied high above her body, her thighs forced open, and, maybe the worst of all, a ball gag fit between her lips, spit pooling at the sides of her mouth.

Her eyes are watering as he works her to her fourth orgasm of the night. He’s ditched his usual foreplay consisting of his fingers and tongue, now solely opting for the wand vibrator that always gets her there quickest. It’s painful, at this point — the way he knows exactly what to say and do so she’s dripping down her inner thighs, a puddle beneath her bum as he watches her poor, assaulted hole clench through orgasm after orgasm.

“What, baby? Cat got your tongue?” He mocks with a teasing smirk, stretching over her form to thumb away some of the drool dripping down her chin. Despite moving from his spot between her legs, the vibrator never pauses its abuse on her swollen clit. “You were being such a fuckin’ brat all day, weren’t you?”

She moans helplessly, tears leaking from her eyes. The sound of her useless whimpers is muffled by the plastic of the gag and it makes Harry chuckle wickedly.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t say a fucking thing now, can you?”

She feels her body catapulting quickly to her next peak, having no choice but to ride it out. She knows she can use the substitute for her safe word if she needs to, but even under the circumstances of being at Harry’s will, she doesn’t want to.

“Atta girl, finally doing what daddy wants for once,” he praises as her clit pulses beneath the weight of the wand, a gush of liquid bursting from her. “Gorgeous girl, making a mess.” She’s shaking now, her hands in tight fists despite the silk binding of the ties. She attempts to mewl out his honorific, but it’s clear he pretends not to hear her when he glances up with a teasing look.

“What was that? Another one?” He asks, making her eyes widen, “Well, only if you say so, pretty.”

#bestie asks #writing #sugar daddy h #TOLD U IT WAS UNHINGED

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ambermotta · 7 months

Text

Meeting a Dragon (Guide, Guardian, or Otherwise)

Disclaimer: the information I give is a mish-mash of personal experience, research, experience in study groups and other people's accounts. I don't claim to know the absolute truth. I'm just here to help!

Preparations

Just like any other type of spirit work you do, to connect with the right type of spiritual being you'll need to be in the right mindset. The more powerful and high frequency the spirit is at, the harder it can be to attune to their vibration.

For connecting with dragons I reccomend you do some heavy work on cleansing the environment and yourself, as well as make sure you have strong protections (how to do that is a matter for another post). Offerings prior to any ritual are also a great idea.

And after all the cleansing you will need to keep your negative thoughts and emotions in check as to not energetically upset the balance you have achieved. Of course, it's impossible to never experience these, so when you do it will be good to remind yourself to keep calm and return to a state of peace.

Something to Ponder

You may wonder - do I even have a dragon guardian? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, if you want to connect with any dragon willing to help you out you will need to do some introspection and evaluate things such as:

If I meet a dragon, what will I do with that information? What is my purpose? What is my goal with all of this?

Knowledge for the sake of knowing it is useless. You are far more likely to get a response from any spiritual being if you intend to do something with the information you're asking for, otherwise you're just wasting their time and energy to entertain a selfish curiosity.

Setting the Mood

After you have aligned your goals, energy, environment and mindset it's time to actually try to get in touch.

Do keep in mind that how successful you are can vary a lot depending on how keen you are to sensing energies, experience, whether the technique works for you and whether the dragon actually thinks if you're ready to meet them or not.

I recommend you try to "set the mood". You definitely DON'T need to do all of these or get a lot of supplies, but if you think you can get your hands on these things they may help you connect more easily:

Turn on music that you think matches the draconic energy you are looking for.

Gather elements of nature such as rocks, plants, branches and crystals that you feel are right for what you are doing. Remember to always ask for permission when taking anything from nature and make sure it's legal!

Gather the four elements. Light a candle, an incense, get a glass of water... for earth you can use crystals but I personally like having living plants.

You can turn off the lights to help your mind slow down. You can focus on the candle, or close your eyes so that you can pay more attention on what you feel rather than what you see.

Dress for the occasion. No particular outfit needed, just try to make it feel special.

You can gather and use any personal tools you have, like a wand, athame, or sacred necklace.

It is preferable to have a protective token with you, if you have any. If you don’t a protection circle will do!

Please remember you can connect with spirits without any of these, and you can have all of these and still feel nothing. These are things that usually HELP, but it's YOU who makes it happen.

Techniques

#1 Divination

When I met my dragon guide it was through a tarot reading. I didn't even have my own cards, I used a website to draw my cards and after I did I felt the need to close my eyes and just "feel it". I was not yet ready to work with this dragon (damn, it took me almost a decade), and even though I doubted it when the time came it turned out my odd attempt at tarot reading was actually VERY accurate.

I did not use a specific spread as far as I remember. I was never a spread type of reader. I just pulled the cards with the intention of figuring out the energy of the dragon and the meaning revealed itself with each card drawn, as well as their collective energy.

Some ideas of what to look for in your divination session are:

Is there a particular element, symbol or environment this dragon is associated with?

What can they teach me?

What should I do to connect and work with them?

Do they think I am ready? If not, what should I do?

What are they like? Big and bulky, or slender and gracious? Do they have limbs? How many? What colors do they like most?

What do they expect from how? How are you supposed to behave around them?

These answers may come to you in the cards (literally) or through your intuition (subjectively). Both are valid, don't restrict yourself just to what you see.

Remember no two readers read the same way. If you are already into divination, work with whatever you have the most affinity with. If you like tarot spreads or boards, that's awesome! If you're more of a intuitive reader don't be afraid of trusting yourself either. As long as you are prepared, you're good to go.

If you're not a reader and would instead like to get someone else to do the divination for you, make sure you are familiar with the reader. What do they usually read? What is their moral compass like? How do your guts feel about them? And even after the reading, it's important you trust what your own intuition says about it all.

#2 Meditation

Meditation means different things for different people.

For some it can be a state of relaxation and observing ones thoughts and feelings. Feeling energy. If this is the route you want to take, before you start the meditation you can invite the dragon to come and let you feel their energy.

You can also kind of turn this into a prayer/conversation kind of thing by talking to them either verbally, or through sharing with them your thoughts and/or feelings. I really like doing it this way because it feels very personal and emotions can get very strong. However, it is basically impossible to do if you are struggling with negative feelings or feeling very anxious. Unfortunately if you're not at balance and you can't bring yourself back to a relaxed state feeling them is going to be really hard.

The other way to do meditation is through guided meditation. With this technique you will have someone else being your guide and taking your mind on a journey. This is very beginner friendly and something I enjoyed a lot when I was first getting into meditation.

You don't have to restrict yourself to everything your guide says. They are there mostly to help you stay in the right mindset and remind you of what you're doing, plus facilitating your connection.

There are a few dragon-specific meditations online. Unfortunately there aren't many, but if the ones there are don't work for you you can either improvise with a more general guided meditation or use ones aimed at spirit guides and deities.

#3 Prayer

I'm using the word prayer to describe "establishing some sort of dialogue with a spiritual entity". If you'd like you can write your own prayer and treat it more as a sort of reverence to the dragons, this can definitely deepen your connection.

But prayer can be as simple as sitting in silence, in a peaceful mindset, and talking to your dragon guide. I would avoid unimportant mundane matters... It is best to have a dialogue that can actually help you connect with the dragon. Telling them your goals, your thoughts, asking about them... then just pay attention to how your body feels, and what thoughts come up. You may wish to avoid talking about problems right away if your focus is to get to know them.

This sort of direct-ish communication doesn't necessarily require anything fancy. If you are able to tune in, you can do it anywhere. But as I mentioned before, certain tools can help you with that, and it's always a good idea to make sure you are protected.

#4 Ask for signs

Be specific about it and ideally set a time period for it to show up. If you ask for a sign that is too easy to come up and easily explainable by physical causes then anything can feel like a sign and lead you into delusion. If it's too complex it can take a long time to manifest in the physical world.

Also keep in mind a sign can come in a more subjective way. For example, if you ask for a rainbow apple to confirm a sign from your dragon perhaps you'll not get a literal rainbow colored apple, but instead a crazy music video with psychedelic rainbow aesthetic and random apples (as well as other objects) thrown around. Yeah this has happened to me - but regarding Loki.

Overall I'm very very careful with signs and I'd rather try the other methods a few times before asking for this one because it's way too easy for your mind to get in your way (either making you doubtful or leading you into finding your signs) or you asking for things that are too out of this world. For the average person asking for signs is not healthy or trustworthy. Plus, it rarely gives you any further insight into the dragon.

Conclusion

After you're done make sure to thank the dragons for their time and energy however you like. It is a great time to give them an offering if you haven't already.

If you did not feel anything, keep trying. Keep this off your mind for a few days then try again, or try the next few weeks once per week. If you are still unsuccessful you can ask the dragons why they are not showing up, or what is blocking you from feeling them.

If you felt something but still couldn't figure out much about the dragon, be patient. There could be a number of reasons why. You may ask them for clarification!

In any case, the keyword is Patience. It can take years for you to be truly ready to work with them. Sometimes they are willing to work with you, but even when you think you are ready, you end up backing away... and that's okay. They are rarely in a hurry, and neither should you.

Thank you for reading!

#draconic wicca #dragon magick #draconic magick #witchblr #magick #witchcraft #draconic witch #draconic witchcraft #dragonkin #otherkin #spirit work #dragon guardian #spirit guides #witch tips #baby witch

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animentality · 2 months

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I just wanna remind the class that Sirius Black was an awful character. He basically did nothing to help or protect Harry through all of the books where he was alive, and while I agree that Harry sucks, and I wouldn't want to protect him either, it's still a mark against his character and speaks to like, the total incompetence of JK Rowling as a writer.

In book 3 he endangered the trio by dragging Pettigrew under the Whomping Willow and getting them involved in his bullshit, when he could've just waited for a better opportunity instead of literally diving on Ron in front of his friends and dragging his ass away. Like really? Harry is in Gryffindor, idiot, he's not gonna let his best friend get eaten by a dog. Also Harry had to watch his parents die. You really wanted him to watch you murder a guy? You're stupid as hell.

You're also a fucking dog, and Pettigrew is a RAT. Neither of you have a wand. You can easily outpace a rat and then tackle him if he tries to change into a human. Also Crookshanks. Corner him when he tries to make a run for it. Don't dive on him when there are people around.

Also even if he runs, what the fuck is stopping you?

You have nothing going on. No 9 am meetings. Chase him away from Hogwarts so you can hunt his ass in peace. Don't bring Harry into it at all. You have nothing but time.

Then the only good thing he does is lose Pettigrew, vaguely save the kids from a werewolf, which is kind of his fucking fault, I might add.

And then passes out so that Harry can save HIM. Then he has to be saved again from returning to Azkaban.

Now you can at least excuse book 3 Sirius because the guy is absolutely nuts after 12 years in evil wizard prison. He's cracked and he's not thinking straight. And him being hunted by the government isn't really his fault. He's a red herring. The big plot twist is that he's not evil and that's "fine." It's acceptable.

But book 4?

Oh my god he's so useless.

He's there for Harry to send letters to, and then NOT help him at all.

The only thing he does is get interrupted by Ron before he can tell Harry to do something really stupid, which is hit the dragon in the fucking eye, something that could've easily gotten him burned or stomped on, or still hit with the Horntail's tail. Harry basically figured it out because of fake Moody, not Sirius.

Then Sirius' guidance is just a red herring of "oooh watch karkaroff" gee thanks buddy.

I'm so glad you're here just so JK Rowling can misdirect the audience. Again.

He also gives exposition about Barty Crouch.

Again, for the misdirect, of thinking Barty Crouch is bad.

But that's it.

There are far better ways to give exposition on Crouch. I'd argue the movie did it better and in a more dramatic way.

He then does nothing whatsoever to help Harry with the 2nd or 3rd tasks. His greatest utility is as a support animal at the end of book 4.

It's actually amazing how he does nothing for the entirety of Goblet of Fire.

He basically just comes back to Britain so he can die in the next book.

And then that's where he's at his worst before dying.

He encourages Harry to do dangerous and stupid things. He does stupid things himself and makes Harry, the 15 year old boy, worry about him, a grown ass man, because he hates being home.

I know that people have childhood trauma and all that, but for fucks sake.

He would not be a suitable guardian for a child ever because he puts himself first.

And before you fuckheads start insisting that's the "tragedy" of his character and it's so emotional and deep, yak yak, I don't want to hear it because he's a fucking plot device before a character.

His whole role in book 5 is to make you think he's gonna do something stupid.

And then he does.

And then he dies.

And it's crazy because he's a wildly popular character, despite the fact that he's terrible. But I can't even really criticize the popularity, because it's mostly carried by Gary Oldman being hot, and also doing a way better job of making us give a shit about him.

I can't express enough how absolutely stupid and awful it was for Sirius to brush Harry off when he was afraid he was becoming evil after seeing nagini attack Arthur!! this is the last fucking book Sirius is alive and this is like the last time they really get to talk one on one.

the scene with Gary Oldman telling him he's not evil... it literally outweighs every fucking Sirius Black scene in the goddamn books!! and it's an original scene.

the director realized that we have to remember we actually like Sirius because of how little he has to do in the main plots.

but it fucking worked.

the warmth that Gary Oldman exudes in that movie is genuinely charming.

but the book Sirius???

NOT. IT.

There's nothing wrong inherently with excusing some of this crap for drama or storytelling purposes, I just object to the fact that the character himself could've been far more interesting and sympathetic.

He could've actually been helpful or proactive or had something to do with the plot that wasn't just acting as a red herring, which I might add he did literally 3 times. First he's not a villain, second it's not Karkaroff or Crouch, and then third he's not actually in the ministry building, Harry's just an idiot.

The childhood best friend of a kids dead father has so much potential.

But he's shuffled and sidelined and treated like a prop before a person. His charming nature is just for fun, it doesn't actually bring anything out of Harry, aside from the protectiveness he feels for all of his friends.

He's vaguely funny sometimes and cracks a few jokes and tells the kids they're dumb every once and a while.

And that's it.

I really can't express enough how absolutely fumbled his character is. We don't get enough of him talking about James or his time at Hogwarts.

Ironically Snape gives Harry way more info on what his dad was like, in like, all of his flashback scenes.

We never got to see the warm side of James that wasn't associated with bullying Snape.

Sirius would've been a great way to balance that out... but we never get his perspective on it.

He's there to dump exposition and be saved.

And it's such a waste.

#harry potter #anti hp #anti sirius black

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fuedalreesespieces · 2 months

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one of their downtimes in the present after school, kagome braids inuyasha's hair (twins, french, dutch, etc.) while they watch magical girl anime. inuyasha is surprisingly into it (the anime and having his hair played with)

oh, you are so right about this.

"So he's the other guy?"

Kagome's fingers raked through his hair, parting it in two. He had no idea what she was doing, but it felt nice. So nice, in fact, that his attention was starting to wane from the television screen in front of him, if that was possible.

"Sort-of," Kagome amended, bringing a comb to the right side of his hair. Silver locks spilled down his shoulders, brushing against the enormous bowl of potato chips they shared. "He's kinda like a vessel for him, but he doesn't know it."

"Geez," Inuyasha grumbled. "All that power and he doesn't even know it exists."

Kagome let out an airy laugh. On screen, the boy called Yukito transformed into Yue. The bright colors fascinated him just as much as the feeling of Kagome's hands carding through his hair. He didn't quite get the concept of animation until she made him an example and even then, that simple jumping ball she'd created was leagues away from...whatever this was.

How did this even get on the screen, anyway? He'd suspected there was someone trapped in the back, but the box was much too tiny for even a kit like Shippo, and it was all clogged up with tangled wires. She'd explained the broadcasting system to him, but he still didn't understand how waves could translate to pictures. Eventually he'd given up on working out the concept, and his confusion never kept him from settling under her gentle hands and letting the story unfold in front of them.

She'd called it anime, a category for the style of art and animation used in the show they were watching, and Inuyasha had to admit it was wildly entertaining. Convoluted plots be damned, the fights were terribly engaging. Sota had told him that the sort of shows Kagome dragged him into were called magical girl anime, and which thereafter prompted a giggle from the younger boy. Inuyasha didn't quite get the joke, if there was one to be had. The way he saw it, the magical girls were just like the metal golems ("Mechs," Sota had corrected him) in the things Sota liked to watch - albeit better dressed.

On screen, Yue spoke, voice eerily cold compared to his counterpart. A chill ran down Inuyasha's spine. "He looks like Sesshomaru," he muttered.

Kagome finished one his braids and peered over his ears, her chin digging into his shoulder as she leaned in to see what she'd missed. "You know...I haven't really thought about it, but he sort of does. Minus the angel wings, of course." At Inuyasha's bark of laughter, she inched closer and smirked. "Think he'd make a good magical girl?"

An image of Sesshomaru wearing a skirt seemed to enter their minds at the same time, and upon making eye contact, they both collapsed in a fit of laughter. "Evil," he said between breaths, "absolutely fuckin' evil, what you just said."

"I was merely asking a question," she said innocently, her grin wicked. "But now that I think about it, I think you'd fit in better than him."

"Me?" he said incredulously.

"Why not? You've got a weapon-"

"A massive sword, not a magic wand-"

"-transformations-"

"One of 'em is useless and the other kills people-"

"You are not useless," she said immediately. "You're wonderful just as you are."

He was thankful the room was dark. "Kagome-"

"All you really need," she said, "is a change of clothes. Have you ever even been out of the Fire Rat?"

He scoffed. "Why should I? It's my armor. Why, you suggestin' I wear your clothes?" His attention returned to the television, where Yue was drawing an arrow back, but Kagome's ridiculous smile quickly emerged in his vision. She'd finished his hair and had come to sit beside him, fiddling with one of the two braids she'd done.

"Well...I do have an old school uniform-"

"No."

"Oh, come on, Inuyasha! Please?"

"I'm not wearing one of your skirts!" he shouted, face as bright as a plucked tomato.

"But I just finished your hair!"

"And what the hell does that have to do with it?"

"You would look good, I promise!" she assured. "Nobody's around."

"Your entire family is in the house, Kagome."

"And I'm sure they would all support your decision to finally be the magical girl you were born to be."

He rolled his eyes and twisted his head so she couldn't tempt him with that smile of hers. "You're crazy."

She slipped into his view and batted her eyelashes. "For me?"

"Woman, if you don't-"

"Please, Inuyasha?"

He told himself not to look. Her voice alone couldn't tempt him. He thought of happy things in his mind, like ramen, or cooked steak, but the image of her sad, droopy eyes kept tainting the images, and when he eventually cracked one eye open, she was still kneeling in front of him, hands clasped and wide, grey eyes lit up like silver by the artificial light of the television. The decision to keep staring at her, like a stubborn fool, damned him. She had him wrapped around her finger the second he chose not to close his eyes - or perhaps he'd been doomed to agree from the start.

Either way, all paths lead to him wearing the skirt.

"Oh my god," Kagome whispered. "Oh my god."

"Shut up," he snapped. The waistline was too tight, but he'd somehow managed it. The outfit he wore was simply a spare uniform she had stashed away in case hers was ripped up in the feudal realm, but she insisted that plenty magical girls wore similar clothing (did the schools purposefully let their girls dress up as magical girls?) At her request, he'd worn a pair of elbow length gloves, boots, and "Happy?"

"Oh, Inuyasha," she sighed, and his face turned another shade of red. "You have no idea."

#help idk what this turned into #anyway inuyasha's a magical girl we all knew this right #inuyasha #inukag #inuyasha x kagome #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale

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saintsenara · 28 days

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thank you very much for the ask, anon! it turned out that questions 1 and 2 sent me a bit feral, so they're queued up in a separate post... allowing this one to focus on the unhinged and deranged potential of ronius.

which - i'll be honest - is not quite as unhinged and deranged as one might think...

although my answer about it as a pure crackship would be influenced by a headcanon i remain committed to purely for my own amusement that harry is the only person who believes sirius to be unfathomably good-looking pre-azkaban [the girl in the defence against the dark arts exam was actually checking out lily! harry saw what he wanted to see!] and still retaining vestiges of these magnificent looks after it.

i like the idea of ron - canonically a real hottie himself - not being entirely sure what all the fuss is about, not least because sirius hasn't seen a dentist in fifteen years. harry's sighing every night about how lucky ron is while everyone else pats sirius on the back for bagging himself a tall and sporty legend with great hair, a chill personality, and a fourteen-inch wand.

but my more serious response to this ship would be that it joins the pile - with snon and ronmort - which are made plausible by the fact that ron is, at heart, someone who cares.

in goblet of fire, harry, ron, and hermione all have broadly similar views of sirius - that he's a clever, sensible adult who can be trusted to help them with the mystery they find themselves in. ron is reassured that harry tells sirius about his scar hurting, for example, because he thinks it's a given that sirius will know what to do about it - and he believes that any information sirius gives harry throughout this book is completely above reproach.

ron also clearly thinks that sirius is cool - him trying to get sirius to agree with him that hermione's passion for house elf rights is ridiculous very much has the vibe of him wanting sirius to acknowledge him as a sophisticated man-of-the-world; which him being pissed-off when sirius suggests the trio are too young to understand what things were like in the first war also illustrates.

[which i think sirius respects him for - he obviously admires a bit of bolshiness, and he also obviously adores the loyalty ron and hermione have for harry.]

and so i think that you can absolutely imagine ron developing a little crush on sirius - to go with his broader bisexual awakening over viktor krum - during his fourth year.

more interestingly, though, is that the trio's view of sirius diverges in order of the phoenix.

in harry's case, there is a reversal of the reasonably uncomplicated parent-child dynamic of goblet of fire, as sirius' depression - as well as the regression he feels from being stuck in his childhood home - robs him of the capacity to provide harry with the paternal emotional support he needs. instead, harry ends up being the one taking the adult role in their relationship - viewing it as his responsibility to be the sensible one in order to keep sirius safe.

hermione notices this role-reversal, but her view is broadly that sirius would be able to restrain his emotional instability if he simply tried hard enough. she's the one of the three who thinks that sirius' grimmauld-place-induced regression is accompanied by a desire to relive his glory days with harry standing in for james - and while both she and harry find sirius' more reckless behaviour [such as his suggestion that he might come to hogsmeade to see them] frightening, hermione evidently regards it as reckless arrogance, while harry sees it as reckless desperation.

ron - on the other hand - approaches order-era sirius not from the adult position in an adult-child dynamic, but as a peer.

he's the member of the trio who best understands the impact feeling useless to the war effort, lonely, and trapped has on sirius, without adding the qualification that he should be an adult and deal with it [which has the negative result that he's easily convinced that harry's vision of sirius in the department of mysteries is real, because he thinks it's completely plausible that sirius would have left the house and been captured].

he has no time for the idea that sirius views harry as indistinguishable from james, or that sirius is deliberately or childishly reckless. he's the only one of the three to give sirius the credit of listening to dumbledore and working to keep himself and harry safe - even if he doesn't like what he has to endure in order to do this. he treats sirius as someone who deserves to not be condescended to and to be acknowledged as having authority in his own house - for example, when he tells hermione that she needs to respect sirius' justification for why kreacher can't be manumitted when he thinks she intends to give him clothes for christmas [that hermione is completely right that slaves should be freed is by-the-by here].

he also understands harry's grief over sirius' death - and what sirius meant to harry - far more instinctively than hermione. but he's also the only one of the trio who really gets how sirius was understood by the order more widely - for example, he's the only one of the three who correctly points out that tonks didn't actually know sirius well enough for the intensity of grief harry and hermione are ascribing to her to be plausible. while harry - completely understandably - sees sirius as so important in his own life that he can't help but imagine him as the central figure in the life of everyone he encounters [which is unrelatedly interesting in that it's how each of the three marauders saw james], ron has a more pragmatic, big-picture view of him as a man. a good man - absolutely - and a fun and clever and admirable one, but still a man like any other.

ron understanding sirius - but not idolising him - creates a pretty strong potential for a relationship between them in a world in which sirius survives into the trio's adulthoods. this is especially the case when this understanding is combined with the fact that ron is shown - throughout the series - to be very good at providing comfort.

sirius survives azkaban and his time on the run through sheer, desperate resilience - but, as his collapse when he's back at grimmauld place shows, this resilience can't keep his demons at bay when he's not just fighting, at the most basic level, to stay alive.

if he survives the war, then he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is going to find himself feeling terrified and unmoored and completely unsure about who he is and what he'll do in a world in which voldemort is dead - and i suspect that his self-destruction would be extraordinary.

ron - alone of the trio - has the capacity to understand how sirius would end up in a place where "all was well" is more frightening to him than the potential of dying any minute. and he also has the capacity to provide an anchoring force through cups of tea and chit-chat which makes sirius think it might be possible to survive the day... and then the week... and then the month - which can then transition into him having the capacity to understand the big questions of guilt and grief and love and loyalty which define sirius' adult life.

so yes. i back it entirely.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #except not #ronius #sirius black #ron weasley #full backing for this one #weasley is our king

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fukae-flwr · 5 months

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"I believe in you."

"I can't do it!" Edith cried out in frustration. The stupid stick wasn't doing what she wanted! She could feel that strange sensation tickling under skin, wanting to come out in the form of a blast or in the form of pulling things to her, like she had done so many times before. Yet with this "wand" as he called it, she can't get that feeling to do what she wants. It was so confusing. Without a wand, she could make someone's loose pounds end up in her own pocket, if she focused super hard. That usually also resulted in some window shattering as well, but she still got a pound or two somehow.

"Don't worry, you'll get it! The greatest wizards and witches didn't master their skills in a day." The professor comforted the young girl as he sat next to her on the couch.

"I'll never master the basics before the start of the school year." She grumbled. He assured her that once she mastered the basics, he would send her to a special school for people like her. Sounded super prestigious, but a part of her hoped it was the new beginning she's been working so hard for. Maybe, if she didn't fuck it up somehow, like she knew deep down inside, she would.

"It just takes practice." He smiled warmly. She just frowned, not sure he was right. All her life, she's only messed up. She was lucky when her "gifts" managed to land her a few pounds, but it always came with destroying something nearby or someone getting hurt by accident.

"How do you know that? You said this was simple magic. Any witch and wizard can do it, yet I've been trying for a week!" Edith questioned bolting up. She was never going to get this! It was easy for him to say since he was already a teacher in this kind of thing.

If she didn't get this right soon, he was going to see her for what she really was. Useless orphan no one wnated. Another street rat. He was going to give up on her just like everyone else.

She should've just ignored him that day. She should've just run after lightening his wallet. She was faster than him for sure, and she could've sold his strange coins for a pretty pound. But no, she just had to let her curiosity get the better of her, especially when he explained things she did that she never could explain. His promises of letting her get better at mastering her so-called magic and meeting other children like her filled her head with uselss hope.

She felt her eyes burn in frustration and something bitter and familiar. Bile and disgusting. She hated how it burned at her throat and how absolutely crushing it felt every time her hope slipped away. It was better when she didn't have it, better when she knew what to expect and nothing more. And yet it still keeps finding her to torment her.

She wasn't even looking at the professor anymore. She was too caught up in trying to suppress the pain.

"I'm used to it. I'm used to it. I'm fine. I'm fine." She repeated in her mind. It's what got her through the roughest of days. When she didn't have food for the night, when she would get a beating for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She got through it.

"Simple. I believe in you, Edith." The professor smiled confidently at her. Edith shot her head up to meet Professor Fig's gaze immediately. The words ringing in her head. Not a single sliver of doubt in his eyes. D...did he actually mean that?

"Wha..What?" She hated how small her voice came off. She didnt mean to stutter either. She was just so caught off gaurd by his words. Her brain forgot how to speak.

"I said I believe in you Edith. I know you'll succeed, cuase I won't let you fail. No matter what." Professor Fig sat straighter, his chin high. He wasn't trying to look down on her like most did. He was sat with confidence, as if his words were factual. The look in his eyes made her chest tighten and her eyes burn. It was so warm and kind. She almost wanted to run in his arms and never let go.

"Shall I get you a tissue?" Professor chuckled, gesturing to his own nose. Edith felt her face flush in embarrassment as she quickly turned away, wiping her running nose and tears on her sleeve.

"I'm not crying!" She defended, not at all sounding like a whinning child. She quickly rubbed her face, hoping that would stop the tears, but it was futile. For some reason, it wouldn't stop. It was so childish, crying over three simple words, and yet it was the first time anyone had ever said those to her.

She kept hiding and trying to silence her sniffles, but it was pretty obvious in the quiet study. She almost didnt hear the sounds of movement behind her thanks to her emotional state.

She felt his gentle hand pat her hair atop her head. He said nothing but she felt his reassuring presence, letting her know she was ok and safe.

She kept her face hidden but she swore to herself she was going to make him proud.

She would not be a failure this time.

HEY GUYS!!!!!

I'm back again!!! I started replaying hogwarts again cus i was feeling magical. Plus i missed the wizarding world. So I made more art and short as well! This was really fun!

HC for Edith:

she was an orphan, who tried to steal from Fig almost a year before the events of Hogwarts Legacy

It took some convincing on Fig's part to get her to trust him much less go to a school she had never heard of, plus she needed some training in basic magic

She loosk really young but swear she is just a year younger then in game

#fukae art #my art #my artwork #digital art #originalcharacter #edith winterald #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy professors #professor fig #hogwarts legacy Fig #eleazar fig #before the events of hogwarts legacy #fukae fanfic

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