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07/09/2020 11:32 PM 

Japanese Wand Cores: The Art of Wand-making in Japan

    โŒ˜โŒ˜โŒ˜โŒ˜ japanese wand Cores โŒ˜โŒ˜โŒ˜โŒ˜    The art of wandmaking in japan   ****Note: Since there is no formal definition of Asiatic magic in the Harry Potter lore, I am creating my own lore on this topic. Please keep in mind that this is not canon and I am by no means an expert on the topic, nor do I speak Japanese. This is all entirely research I am doing on my own time that will be expanded upon as I gain a better understanding. I have also changed a few things to suit the world of Harry Potter as there are certain pre-established canons that magic needs to abide by. If there is something here that is linguistically or factually incorrect (or perhaps culturally offensive), please contact me and I will make the correct revisions. My desire is to represent Japanese culture in a respectful way in the world of Harry Potter and I recognize that there may be a few mistakes along the way. Thank you, and I would appreciate any feedback!.     EXCERPTS FROM: SEIREN MATSUMOTO AND THE ART OF WAND-MAKING IN JAPANINTRODUCTION  To what purpose does a wand core serve? It is a question I am often asked by those bright-eyed witches and wizards who enter my store in the hopes of finding their first wand. It is a question I am always happy to answer, for truly, one of the delights in my occupation is finding a core of high quality that other wandmakers may have overlooked.The core of a wand is akin to the heart that beats in the chest of all living creatures--a vital organ that must be treated with as much respect as the exterior--yet instead of blood pumping through arteries and valves, it is magic that filters through wood with the core acting as a conductor. Without the core, the bond between the magic user and their wand would be subdued. The wood gives a wand their unique “personality” and I would say the core acts as the power source.There are various components that determine the quality of a wand and the magic it will produce, of course---the wood type, the core, and the wizard or witch who bears it. One cannot ever truly predict the capabilities of any wand until it has found its home in the hands of a talented witch or wizard. While I would not speak on behalf of my fellow wand makers, in my humble experience, I find the years I have spent honing my skills have only ever left me with more questions that would take several lifetimes to explore. COMMON WAND CORES  In the most recent decades, spellcasting in Japan has leaned towards a unique blend of Eastern and Western style of magic with a focus on casting hexes for dueling. Thus, my most common wand cores are best suited to the art of onmyodo, powerful yet stubborn wand cores from creatures with similar dispositions.I tend to be more flexible in my choice of wand cores than Ollivander, thus I have quite an array of resources to choose from. I mean no disrespect, of course---Garrick has found three wand cores that produce magic brilliantly and uphold the level of quality associated with his family name, and for that the world of magic has flourished. Yet in my opinion a core that may be difficult to subdue may not necessarily be a weak one. It simply requires a different approach and an acknowledgement that the magic it will produce may be unique in both its strengths and weaknesses.  Scales of a wani  Wani are serpents who are the rulers of the ocean and the sea. They live in splendid coral palaces deep in the ocean floor. Legend has it that they are able to shapeshift into human form and live amongst us, some even taking human lovers. While I have never seen these beautiful creatures shapeshift into our likeness, Wani scales have always served as a potent and effective wand core, as natural as the bond between land and sea. The wani scale wand will wish to dominate in whatever field of magic their witch or wizard takes them, making it a popular wand amongst noble families.  Hair from the mane of an Otoroshi  Otoroshi appear as hairy, hunched, four-legged beasts with fierce claws and tusks. Otoroshi act as guardians of holy places such as temples and shrines. Otoroshi attack humans only rarely: when they spot a wicked or imprudent person near a holy place—or when one tries to enter through the gateway they are guarding. Despite their ferocious appearance, an otoroshi is only a threat to those of a wicked disposition. Similar to unicorn hair, this wand core is the most difficult to turn to darker arts and is a common wand for Aurors to seek out and expose the use of dark magic.  Fur of a kawauso   A kawauso is a river otter who, upon reaching old age, attains magical powers. They are particularly skilled at shape-changing and accurately copying sounds. Kawauso are playful yลkai, well known for their tricks and mischief, but rarely dangerous. This wand core is particularly suitable for quick spellcasting, making it a favorite amongst competitive duelists. While perhaps not as formidable of a wand core as others, this may be balanced well enough with a strong wood or magic wielder. This core is also known to be hard to control unless the witch or wizard who uses it learns to adapt easily to unpredictable magic.  Kitsunebi Flame  Kitsunebi, or foxfire, is named for the magical kitsune who are said to create it. Kitsunebi appears as a mass of floating orbs of light when fox yokai (demon) breath a ball of fire out from their mouths and use it to light their way at night. They are often used for lighting yลkai events such as the night parade of one hundred demons, yลkai wedding ceremonies, and other processions or meetings. Those wands with a kitsunebi core are the quickest to learn new and challenging spells, often with a dramatic and flamboyant flair. Truly a wand of jovial nature.  RARE WAND CORES  With the decline of shinto and kotodama witches and wizards over the past few decades, I have found that these wand cores have become rarer to obtain or remain on my shelves far longer than their counterparts. It is heartbreaking to know that so much of our traditions have been forgotten or looked down upon due to the impact of foreign influence, however, there seems to be a growing interest in these dying arts with each new generation wishing to defy the past and write a new future. My hope is that one day these wand cores become as commonplace as the ones listed above, however, for now, I hold these cores in high esteem and am always overjoyed when a wand from my rare collection makes its way into the hands of a young witch or wizard.  Eye from a hakutaku   The hakutaku is a wise chimerical beast that resembles a white ox. It has nine eyes — three on its head, and three on each of its broad sides — and six horns. The Hakutaku are believed to be all-knowing. Talismans and paintings of these creatures are used to ward off evil yokai, bad omens, and plagues. Due to the healing and omniscient nature of these creatures, wands with this core are especially cherished by those witches and wizards who specialize in shinto magic. These wand cores further enhance the fortune-telling skills of a shinto user, though these cores paired with the right wood make excellent dueling companions against dark magic.  Water from the head of a kappa  Kappa are aquatic, reptilian humanoids who inhabit the rivers and streams and feed off cucumbers and human entrails. Their most distinguishing characteristic is a dish-like depression that lies on top of their skulls. This dish is the source of a kappa’s power and must be kept filled with water at all times. If a kappa is bested on land it will be obliged to bow. If water spills out, kappa have been made to swear loyalty and friendship to their victor for the rest of their lives. A wand with this core will test their new master in much the same way. If the magic user outwits it, you will have a wand that will remain loyal for life and will provide consistent powerful magic.  Tusk of a Baku  The Baku is a strange, holy beast that has the body of a bear, the head of an elephant, the eyes of a rhinoceros, the tail of an ox, and the legs of a tiger. Baku watch over humans and act as guardian spirits. They feed on the dreams of humans—specifically bad dreams. The tusk of a Baku is rare to acquire and only ever taken when a baku is at the end of its life. I would say the magic a baku wand produces grows stronger with time and experience--as if it is consuming whatever spells have been fired at its owner and increasing its magic. The wand core is very protective of its owner, and at times will act of its own accord to protect its wielder if they are in danger.Feather from a DaitenguDaitengu resemble large birds of prey with human-like characteristics. They are large creatures usually dressed in the robes of an ascetic monk with a red face and an incredibly long nose. Large, feathered wings sprout from their backs. Their lives are spent in thoughtful meditation, intent on perfecting themselves. Occasionally Daitengu will teach secrets and impart magical knowledge to the worthiest of witches and wizards. When a Daitengu feather is used as a wand core, it will push the boundaries of magic, making it a core popular amongst inventive spellcasters. A formidable core in the hands of whoever it deems worthy.  DARK WAND CORES A taboo topic, I find, amongst my fellow wandmakers. It certainly does not make for pleasant conversation, but one I feel is necessary to include. Every wand has the capability of turning to the dark arts, after all. We cannot control who comes into possession of one of our creations, we can only hope they follow a better path---and to ignore the power that legendary monsters possess would simply be an insult to my work. In my younger years I experimented with a few wand cores from wicked sources and, while I do not recommend it (as I had to put myself in various dangerous situations to acquire such cores), I learned a great deal from that period of my life. Nowadays these wand cores are almost nonexistent, destroyed by the Japanese Ministry long ago. You might perhaps find an illegally constructed wand in the dark markets of our wizarding communities if one were inclined to look, however...  Root of a Jobukko Tree   On the fields of war and sites of vicious massacres, where the blood of thousands of warriors has saturated the soil, a strange kind of tree can be found. In fact, they were once normal trees; but the vast amounts of human blood absorbed through their roots transformed them into yลkai. Thereafter, the trees thirst only for human blood. The root of a Jobukko Tree provides a magic that is extremely well suited for casting hexes and curses. It is a hungry core that seems to delight in spilling blood and is best matched with a wand wood and wielder that can meet its demands. It is only a matter of time before the wand will betray its master, however, in its quest for more.  Icy Breath of a Yuki Onna   Yuki Onna prey on travelers lost in the heavy snowstorms that blanket the Japanese Alps in winter. They have an otherworldly beauty, with long black hair and dark, piercing eyes. They feed on life force, sucking it from human’s mouths with an icy breath that freezes their victims solid. Yuki Onna spend their lives hunting humans in the snow. A wand with the core made from the breath of a Yuki Onna is suitable for spellcasting that can deceive others and lure them into traps. On the rare occasion, I have seen these wands work well for Obliviators when wiping memories from non-magic civilians and erasing traces of magic.  Beak of Itsumade   Itsumade are large birds with the face of a human, a pointed beak, and the body of a snake with wings, and terrible claws. Itsumade appear in the night sky during times of trouble—such as plagues and disasters, or flying over battlegrounds where many have died. It is thought that the spirits of the dead and suffering form into onryล which take the shape of these birds, demanding recognition of their suffering and torment. A wand made with an itsumade beak core will be drawn to those who have faced tragedy and demand retribution. This quest for justice will almost always lead down a wicked path, however, for the magic produced will be tainted with a need for revenge.  Horn from an Oni   Oni are born when wicked humans die and end up in one of the many Buddhist hells. Transformed into oni, they become the ogreish and brutal servants of Great Lord Enma, ruler of hell. Wielding great iron clubs, they crush and destroy humans solely for enjoyment. An oni’s job is to mete out horrible punishments such as peeling off skins, crushing bones, and rendering other torments too horrible to describe. A horn of an Oni will wield the strongest dark magic, inclined to not only defeat whoever stands in their way but to give their opponent an agonizing end. Sometimes I wonder if these wands corrupt a witch or wizard, driving them to such evil acts...   More Information:   Magic in Japan: General Information A closer look at shinto magic (research in progress) A closer look at onmyลdล magic (research in progress) A closer look at kotodama magic (research in progress) Talismans used in Japanese magic (research in progress) Japanese Wand Woods History of magic in Japan (research in progress) World War II and the magic community of Japan (research in Progress) International Magic Law (research in progress)  Marauder Era  • HP Verse • WWW.ROLEPLAYER.ME/Michiotenose         Sources:

world building, harry potter, wand cores, oc


07/09/2020 10:33 PM 

Picture is a Million Words.
Current mood:  irate

“Momma, someone is waiting for you at the front. He asked for you saying, and he gave me these amazing crayons. I am gonna go color in the back at my little desk.” Natalie literally ran around her as she felt like it was a literally tornado that came through she kind of just brushed her off. Many people that were regulars came in to the coffee shop, and for them to give Natlie something that was special for her was something that happened with the older customers. To really think other wise, Jill was thinking too much into it. Not seeing anyone in the coffee shop, Jill called out to Natalie to kind of yell at her for the fib that she just told her. There was not a single person in the shop, and if she was going to at least fib about something make it where she does not have a heart attack over the fact that some stranger was giving her daughter gifts. Turning slowly with a few of her other belongings she left on the coffee counter top by the register; the door bell rang again as if someone was coming in. WIth her hands full, Jill was about to walk into the back by the swinging door when she sighed knowing then she forgot to lock the door. “I am sorry, we are closed for the evening and will be reopening tomorrow morning at 5am.” Pushing the door open, Jill did not see the figure moving to reopen the door or even say a word to apologize to her but stood there silent until she was about to turn around when she heard a small chuckle. “Jillynn. It’s been too long. Do you know how long it took me to finally pin your location down. Then again, I am sure you knew all that with how hard it was to find you. But yet, here you are……” Her eyes almost glazed over as she had not turned around to see the person at the front door. Whoever it was not used to coming into her coffee shop, and as she kind of took the moment in the voice alone was not someone that she had put in her memory bank. “What no heart felt hello, or hug saying you missed me. Your mother will be so hurt as to the fact you can’t even give your step-dad a nice hello.” The feeling that she had years ago came up into her throat as she turned around seeing Robert standing in front of her with the smirk on his face as if he was pleased with her reaction. He always was one that liked to see her reactions to see if he was under her skin. Fight or flight was immediately taking over as she wanted nothing more than to walk to the back and grab the gun that she had in a top locked cabinet for moments that she felt in danger. Whether he was there to just get a reaction or if he was actually there for a reason; Jill was not taking any chances. If she ran he would just get what he wanted, and as she was taught in New York you never start a fight you can’t finish. As much as Jill wanted to shoot him with a gun, Natalie was in the room over and the last thing any one needed was her life to be put in danger. The cycle had to start and end with Jill. “Trust me, the nice hello would be to shoot you in the penis and watch you bleed on the floor as I drank a nice red wine hearing you slowly die from the lose of blood. Get the hell off my property or I am calling the police to escort you out of here.”


07/09/2020 09:30 PM 

A ๐““๐“ž๐“ก๐“š A B L E

A ๐““๐“ž๐“ก๐“š A B L E ๐Ÿ’–(UH - DAWRK - UH - BUHL) - adjectiveUNDENIABLY เชกแญ™๊ซ€๊ซ€๐•ฅ OR ๊ซ€๊ช€แฆ”๊ซ€๊ช–๐•ฃโ…ˆ๊ช€แง WHILE DISPLAYING EXTREME แฆ”๊ชฎ๐•ฃ๐•œโ…ˆเชก๊ซ๊ช€๊ซ€เชกเชก.(SEE ALSO: NERDALICIOUS: DORKITUDE)****

deity, chaos, void, pain, teenwolf, riverdale, supernatural, thevampirediaries,


07/09/2020 08:38 PM 

( ๐ฉ๐ข๐œ๐ญ๐ฎ๐ซ๐ž ๐๐ซ๐š๐›๐›๐ฅ๐ž, )

    "Aunt Sarah!" A bright smile appeared across Savannah's features as the door to her childhood home swung open and her aunt - although she was always more like mother, stood before her. Without another word, the blonde stepped forward and wrapped her long arms around the women and pulled her in for a tight embrace. "Oh my sweet girl, how I've missed you so very much. You don't come around as often as you should and we need to fix that, you hear me?" Savannah let out a soft content sigh as her arms tightened around the petite women. "I've missed you so much." After holding the embrace for another moment, she finally let go and stepped inside the house, dragging her suitcase behind her. "Listen, I know I haven't been to visit much. Things have just been so crazy at work and I haven't had a chance to get away. There are only so many people I can trust with my store." The blonde knew her aunt understood but it didn't make it any easier."You my love, need to stop apologizing. I know exactly how busy you are and we could never hold that against you. It's like you don't even know how proud we are of you Savy, you're doing amazing for youself and after all you've been through, you deserve this life you've built for yourself." It was nice to hear to someone tell her they were proud of her, especially the women she looked up to her entire life. Even though Savannah never knew her real mother, her aunt took her in and treated her like she was her own and that meant everything to her. "We're just so glad you could come here to today to celebrate your uncles birthday with us. He kept saying he wasn't gonna celebrate if you weren't here so thank you for saving me from the constant complaints." A soft chuckle fell from the girls lips as her eyes began to wander over her surroundings. "This place hasn't changed one bit I see." Savannah felt a tear begin to roll down her cheek as her blue hues landed on a particular picture, her college graduation picture. A day she thought would never come."Best day of my life." A soft smile curled over her lips as she walked over to the fire place where the picture was displayed right in the middle, like it was the most important picture on display. "You know, I never thought that day would come, if I'm being completely honest. Everything I went through, the kidnapping, my rebellious phase, the..." Her voice trailed off as she got a little chocked up just thinking about the words she was trying to speak. "...the attempted suicide. All these reasons I thought I wouldn't have a life beyond the age of 17. But this picture shows that I'm survivor. I survived a lot and came out of it all better and so much stronger then I was before. Looking at this picture doesn't make me ashamed of my past or my skeletons, it makes me wanna embrace these traumatic events and say I came out on top." Wiping a tear away from her cheek, she traced over the picture with her fingertips and smiled once more. "I think I'm gonna need a copy of this. You know, as a reminder of everything I just said - I don't wanna forget." "I think that's the best idea you've ever had love." Pulling herself away from the photo, she walked with a smile, a smile that proved her life was good and nothing could change that, not even her past.


07/09/2020 07:14 PM 

[x] surrender

  Markus could not feel the sting of the winter air, but he felt unusually cold.Thousands of android bodies littered the streets of Detroit. He lost Josh. He lost Simon. He lost North. The androids in the camp did not make it. Mismatched hues scanned the area for someone -- anyone, to see if they were alive.  The ones still fighting hastily fell at his feet. Holding the gun up in an attempt to fight still felt like a moot point at this rate. There was nothing but failure in his wake. There was no hope for his people. They would either be destroyed or reimagined and he would be dead; no longer of this world. How could he have let this happen? Where did he go wrong? How did he fail?With stiffended footsteps, Markus stepped backwards and continued going until he broke into a sprint; running into the nearest store. He threw down the rifle and looked down at the floor where blue blood steadily dripped from his wounds. His hand moved towards his side as he deciphered his system status. Nothing too critical. Nothing too life threatening. That didn't mean he was safe though."Come out with your hands up. Surrender and we won't shoot!"He knew that lie all too well. His thirium heart accelerated in its speed as he thought of an escape plan. If only he had taken that dirty bomb from North when she offered it. He inwardly cursed and slammed a fist into the ground; uncovering some of his android skin with it. Frustration was never his strong suit, but there it was. How could they have fallen so far?That's when he remembered the pistol in his coat. He grabbed it and turned it over in his grasp, wondering if he should end it all instead of heading back out there to let them do it. In the end, he decided against it. No matter what happened now, he already made the history books. If they went back to rebuilding his android brethren, then someone else would take his place. He didn't know who would, but there was no chance this wouldn't happen again."... What happens when we die, Markus? Will there be a life after death? Will he have some sort of paradise like the humans?"Markus never knew what kind of answer to give when he was asked that. What would there be for androids when they die?Nothing would happen. They had no souls."COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! SURRENDER AND WE WON'T SHOOT!"Markus released a soft sigh and finally stood up before heading in the direction of the doors. The soldiers pointed their guns at him as soon as he walked out onto the stairs. "Drop your weapons!" He hesitated for a moment before eventually throwing the gun to the side and slowly raising his hands up. The wind blew against his shirt, causing a sense of calm to approach his presence."Fire!"Markus closed his eyes.

ส™แด€ส€ ๊œฐษชษขสœแด›

07/09/2020 06:56 PM 

Three Wishes: Fear Everything

ั•now prฮนnceั•ั•

07/09/2020 05:46 PM 

-My Biography;

Rebekah White is the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. She has her mother's looks and can also speak to animals the way her mother can. She has the voice of an angel and aspires to take over the kingdom one day when her father steps down. She has an older sister Sparrow White whom she admires even though secretly she's a bit jealous of the fact that she's probably going to get the kingdom instead of her. She has an ex-boyfriend, NAME, and he was a villian son. She left him after two years since she was tired of him being jealous of her being around Kris but they were only friends.It has been 6 months since they broke up, she is now in Elias Prep and finally dating Kris. She has never been this happy before either. She is a cheerleading, a member on the student council, music class, debate and some more but those are just some of her classes.


07/09/2020 02:43 PM 

ooc notes.

01. i am a real life, living and breathing human being. i have a life outside of this that takes precident over this hobby. i also do not enjoy drama, so please take it elsewhere. i'm here to have fun, period.02. if i don't immediately reach out for a storyline, etc. please don't take that as me not wanting to write. i have anxiety and i tend to wait for others to reach out first. it's something i'm currently working on.03. i'm a busy person in real life, so my activity will be on the spotty side a lot of the time. again this is just a mere hobby for me and i will reply on my own time, not yours.if you see me posting on the stream, etc. it doesn't mean i'm ignoring you. i just don't have the energy for anything else.04.  i am over the age of 18 in real life, and i would prefer any potential writing partners to be as well. if you are a minor, please delete me. 05. i prefer in character banter, etc. over storyline discussions. discussions can be quite time consuming and can feel kind of forced. i'm not totally opposed to discussing if that is something you prefer, but i am slow, so be prepared for that.06. this character is multi-ship for the time being as i have no desire to have a set love interest for her. that can definitely change over time, but for now, she's living her best life. 07. i may not post multiple drabbles a day/week, etc. but don't let that fool you into thinking i don't write. i just don't have a lot of time.08. i mostly prefer to write in third person format, but i will ocassionally write the first person pov drabble.


07/09/2020 02:02 PM 

Springtime at the Burrow.

{ a drabble for dragonheart, "describe your character's favorite place in the form of a drabble." }     Harry blinked back a few tears. He had become oddly sentimental in the last several years, likely as a result of all of the turmoil he and those he loved had experienced in such magnitude. Ginny would sometimes playfully chaff him for it, but other times they were able to share quiet tender moments, where she would simply put her delicate hand in his and rest her head on his shoulder, no words needing to be exchanged. He recalled for the briefest of moments how we would stare at her little dot on the Marauders Map while he was searching for Horcruxes, hoping she’d know that he was watching over her, no matter how far away he was, he squeezed her hand a little tighter. Looking up at the precariously perched rooms stretching the humble home into the sky. Some of Harry’s fondest moments had come from this place, and next to Hogwarts it was quite possibly his favorite place in the world.  It was a beautiful spring evening in late May. The sun was nearly set, the last rays of its light painting a beautiful tapestry of oranges and pinks in the sky befitting a postcard. The haphazard house looked particularly out of place, as there was now a splendid garden surrounding it overrun with radiant rows of flowers of all sorts, whose petals practically glowed in the dim light. He reached up and knocked gingerly on the door, not wanting to cause too much of a fuss. It was only a moment before the usual warm, plump face illuminated the doorway. Before he could even speak Harry was pulled into a series of hugs and kisses that would make even a dementor blush.  “Oh, bless you Harry. You look so handsome. How do you keep getting more and more handsome?” she said as she forcefully dragged him into the home. Her hair was lined with a bit more gray, but she looked the same as always, and despite his embarrassment he couldn’t help but smile at this wonderful woman. The house was ever the same, an otherwise empty armchair was filled with a pair of bewitched crochet needles busily working on what appeared to be a light blue baby blanket. Harry tried to step in front of Ginny lest she get baby fever, a theme that seemed to be recurring with all of the women in his life lately. There was still the usual clutter evident around, despite all of the children having moved out at this point, but Harry wouldn’t have it any other way. The Burrow would simply not be the Burrow were it not for the frequent disorder, and the wonderful sense of belonging that reigned supreme despite it.  Mr. Weasley boisterously got up from a desk in the corner where he had been working on a ham radio to come and greet Harry and Ginny. He grabbed his daughter in a great bear hug and kissed her head, causing Harry to once again get a little choked up. He wondered if his parents would have done the same if he were visiting them. He pulled Harry into a hug shortly after, and he was slightly embarrassed, still not quite used to the affection. The war may have broken some families in the moment, but it seemed many of them recovered stronger than ever. Despite the bleakness of the situation, such dark times seemed to help people realize what truly mattered to them, his face grew warm as he looked over at Ginny.  George was standing behind the couch, his wife perched upon it. On his chest was a front-facing Muggle baby carrier, and one could easily tell George was a little flustered with it. Inside was a caramel complected baby of about eight or so months. Harry realized to whom the blanket must belong, all hopes of keeping Ginny from gushing quickly fled.  “Those are quite popular in the non-magical world, I’ll have you know!” Hermione huffed, seated by Angelina, George’s wife of about a year.  “Yeah, but we’re not bloody Muggles, are we? I could just as easily levitate the child. It would look less ridiculous,” George replied in a somewhat hushed voice, dancing a little to rock the half-conscious infant. Angelina looked back and stared daggers at him, causing him to raise his hands in surrender.  “Only joking, only joking... “ he chuckled.   Hermione rushed to hug the both of them. If he was emotional it was nothing compared to her, she blubbered almost every time she saw Harry now, at least for a moment, before she returned to lecturing him on one matter or another. Her and Ginny quickly got in a personal conversation in hushed whispers. Ron came up shortly after, and he and Harry managed the briefest of hugs, enough to show endearment without jeopardizing masculinity. Ron nudged him in the side and gave him a questioning look, before looking over to his sister. Harry smiled and nodded. Mrs. Weasley had since returned to their large kitchen, a wide variety of pots and pans in various forms of stirring and shuffling. She happily danced around, mumbling to herself.  Harry took a moment to compose himself before walking up to Mr. Weasley, “Er.. sir. I’d like to talk to you if I could for a moment.”  “Come off it, Harry. Since when have you called me ‘sir’?” he chortled as he led Harry outside to some distinctly Muggle lawn chairs with red and white striped patterns. He ushered Harry into a seat and took the adjoining one.  “Or.. er.. Well. I think the situation calls for some formality.” “Oh? And what situation might that be?” Mr. Weasley had a knowing smile on his face, which made Harry considerably more embarrassed than he already was.  “I’d like to - what I meant to say is - I’ve heard that when a man wants to ask a woman to marry him I’ve heard he’s supposed to ask her father’s permission. I er... don’t really know. This is my first time.” A great clamour erupted from the kitchen window which was open, accompanied by a scream of elation from Mrs. Weasley, who had very clearly been listening. Harry could overhear everyone rushing to help her.  “Oh. I thought I saw a spider, is all. Not in my house,” she giggled to herself as she got everything back in order.  Mr. Weasley now got teary-eyed, which didn’t help Harry’s already sensitive emotions. He pulled Harry into a hug. “You’ve always been like a son to me, and now you really can be. So yes, of course is my answer.” The two released and smoothed out their shirts and returned to the house. Acting as though nothing was amiss.  “I would have asked earlier, but I didn’t want to risk having to wait to ask her in case my nerves got the better of me.” Ron was still sporting a smug grin on his face, Hermione had since nestled into him, with Ginny sitting in an armchair to their right. Hermione looked over at his face for a moment before silently questioning him. A series of expressions formed on Ron’s face, and when he finished Hermione was a silent fit of hysterics, doing her best to not be noticed by an increasingly skeptical Ginny. Hermione looked at Harry with a look that suggested if she hugged him right now he might asphyxiate.  Harry wasn’t sure how to move forward, though he had played this moment out a million times in his head. None of his rehearsed speeches before the fact sounded appropriate in the moment, so he just knelt down in the middle of the room on the spot. Everyone continued what they were doing, not realizing the situation at hand, leaving Harry baffled on how to progress, he was nearly considering clearing his throat loudly when Mrs. Weasley screamed again in the doorway. Her face a veritable tsunami of emotion. Ginny looked at her and followed her line of vision to Harry, who was brilliantly red and visibly shaking holding up a ring box.  At once all the girls in the room mirrored Mrs. Weasley, with Ginny being the most composed as she stood up and walked in front of him. She put her hands together over her face to quell the emotions as Harry took an exaggerated deep breath. He kind of wished there weren’t so many people looking at him, you’d think after being a spectacle so often the last decade would make him better in front of crowds, but that couldn’t be further from the case.  “We’ve been through everything monumental together in our lives. You’re the one person who has always understood me - er.. Sorry Ron - and I would fight basilisks, dementors, Death Eaters, and Voldemort himself again if it meant having you forever. So… would you do me the honor of being my wife?” Harry opened the ring box, and the light caught the diamonds. He focused his vision on it, feeling that if he looked at her his confidence would shatter. He was fairly certain she’d say yes, but that didn’t stop his horrid imagination from picturing her hightailing it out of the Burrow a thousand times. She knelt down on the floor with him,  placed her always cold hands on his face, and pulled him into a kiss that would no doubt make Mrs. Weasley blush if she weren’t already a mess. And in this moment, Harry had found his happiest place on earth.   /harryjamespotter


07/09/2020 01:55 PM 

On The Ramparts. [๐’•๐’†๐’‚ ๐’๐’†๐’‚๐’—๐’†๐’”,]

  All around there was chaos. Dust and debris sifted through the air so thickly that if one were to stand still for only moments a fine coat of it would cover them. There was a cacophony of bangs and shouts, screams and disarray, as people ran to and fro, either in close pursuit or desperate escape. What usually followed were a flurry of movements, and well placed words resulting in bright flashes of lights and waves of energy being directed from tips of magical wands. Often these attempts at disarming or destruction were deflected, only to hit walls and the various other amenities filling the old castle resulting in the shower of ash.  For those present, there was no acclamation, for the moment one felt even a twinge of complacency, something would go amuck. And it was far different when magic was involved. For most there, this was their first taste of battle, the first glimpse of the realities of war. Many of the older people, such as professors and parents had lived through the First War, but were lucky enough to never experience direct combat, though few were left unscathed from the nature of the war. Still, it was not just their lives at stake, but everything they held dear. The world stood on a precipice.  For Harry, the weight of everything was crushing. He watched friends and foes alike succumb to battle, breathe their last breaths. He moved along the corridors, and for a moment it seemed to him that he was walking in slow motion, detached from reality, almost like it had felt when he used the Pensieve. He also felt as though he were back with the Dursleys, the neglectful family he had been raised by, on one of the rare trips he accompanied them on to celebrate Bonfire Night. The air was filled with the spectacle and concussion of the fireworks that filled the air. All that was missing was the smell of sulfur. In its place was a scent he would probably never forget for the rest of his life.  He rushed quickly through the turmoil, looking desperately for his friends to ensure their safety, never forgetting his task of locating the diadem. In his haste he almost met his undoing at the hands of a spell aimed not at him but a familiar face.  “Parvati!” Harry shouted, rushing into the fray. Her attacker had gone it seemed, leaving the caramel complected girl hunched over the body of her sister. Harry at once feared the worst. “Is she?” he whispered, it was almost lost in the commotion, but in this sphere it felt as though the world waited for them in solemnity.  “Not yet. She’s still breathing if barely. Mulciber hit her with the Cruciatus curse,” Parvati’s face was pale, tears streamed freely down her cheeks, her eyes were empty.  Harry looked out at their surroundings, keeping a firm grip on his wand, his hands now coated with sweat. He searched his mind desperately for the right words to say to comfort her, but he was at a loss. He still felt responsible for everyone there, who had taken up arms in his defense. A cloying feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He placed his free hand on her shoulder gently. Thinking back to when he had an opportunity to dance with her at the Yule Ball, and instead spent the evening pining over Cho Chang. He wondered if she would have felt different then, her shoulders were rigid in determination. It was only a few years ago, but it felt like an eternity in the moment. Parvati stood, brushing off his attempt at consolation. She pulled her wand from her pocket, and looked fixedly down the corridor. Her countenance changed in an instant, and melancholy was replaced with resolve. Her brow furrowed.  Harry realized that must have been the direction Mulciber had gone at once, returning his hand once again, this time to stop her folly. “Parvati, you can’t! Padma needs you,” he tried to channel all of the conviction he could muster in his voice. “I can’t.. Take another loss. Not for my sake.” Again, she brushed off his hand and began to walk with conviction in the direction, speaking without looking at him. “It isn’t for your sake. It’s for hers.” And on she marched, almost on the verge of jogging. Harry stood perplexed for a moment before rushing after her, coming to a stop in front of her.  “He’s a trained Death Eater.”  “You’ve fought trained Death Eaters.”  “And I barely survived.”  “Not from what others have said.” “They probably weren’t there. And you still can’t do this. Think of your parents.” “My parents would either be parents to a coward, or a martyr. Which would you rather be?” at that she stepped around him and continued her crusade. Huffing as she passed by him.  Harry looked back toward the stairway that led to the Room of Requirements, where his friends were making preparations to join the fray. And remembered his reason for being in the castle at all -- his need to find and destroy the final horcruxes. But he couldn’t leave Parvati behind. The cost of the war was already mountainous, an Everest of guilt and loss that would be insurmountable to the young wizard if it were to grow any greater.  “Parvati… please.” he spoke and she hesitated. Her body began to shake. Her knees buckled to the emotional weight she too no doubt carried, with the possibility of her closest friend and twin dying. Harry could tell she was sobbing, but no sounds escaped her quivering form. Perhaps she didn’t want to appear weak, but at that moment no one could have looked stronger to Harry.  “I… will make all of this right,” Harry uttered, his voice awkward and thick with emotion. He began to turn back toward the Ravenclaw Common Room and his destiny, but he heard her stand.  “I’m going Harry… I must, you don’t get to decide who fights. And you’re going to need all the help you can get,” her voice was stern again, tears still poured from her eyes but her conviction had returned, and Harry’s memories took him back to that same Room of Requirements, years ago as they strove to perfect the Patronus. Where her sister had brilliance becoming a Ravenclaw, Parvati had sheer determination. There were very few who had made as many attempts at her at the spell. Some would work for hours before needing to take a break out of disappointment, but somehow Harry felt she had to prove she was every bit as talented and capable as Padma or the rest of Dumbledore’s Army. Many told her to just try again tomorrow.  Back in the present Harry knew that tomorrow may very well never come, so in defeat he turned back to her. Walking those few long steps, and he gave her the simplest hug. Nothing worthy of the power of the moment, but Harry had always lacked the bravado of most heroes. Then he left her. There was no need for final words, as she rushed off to face a wizard far superior to her, and he rushed to what was very likely his own death.  /harryjamespottermentioned: ๐’•๐’†๐’‚ ๐’๐’†๐’‚๐’—๐’†๐’”,  


07/09/2020 12:47 PM 


serpent juliet One day we'll get older And we probably won't look the same But every kiss will feel like the first There's some things that just never change message comment albums stream bulletins blog 84 A nod of her head gesturing him go ahead and tell her what he wants, Betty Cooper to promise him. Elbows resting on the bed, hands cupping her cheeks. A soft giggle falling past her pink-tinted lips, shaking her head thoroughly entertained with his dislike for school musicals. Drawing her bottom lip between pearly whites. Toying with the skin there, watching him, nodding her head as she listens.The blonde's mind wandering at the thought of the two of them graduating together, where will they go from there? Where will the two of them start their future together? Harvard, maybe? Though it's a done deal. As long as the two are still together through the year and getting out of RIVERDALE with their hands linked together. " I promise you, Juggie. There will be no more singing, though… I'll confess. You have quite a voice there. Where have you been hiding it? how the only singing will be only between you and me? "Teasing him just as a bit as her grin got more significant against twin flesh with a nudge against his shoulder. " The happy teenager thing. We are heading into senior year, which means Veronica and Archie will both be dragging us to 'stupid' parties but as silly as they may turn out to be. I get to enjoy it with you, The teen things we'd be doing together. And then graduating from Riverdale High— GOD, can you believe it? I can almost taste the freedom. We'll have to make our year worth something. Enjoy being a teen… but that doesn't mean we shouldn't look for clues. I mean, without us… I doubt any of the crimes in Riverdale would have been solved. You and I, we're a team, Juggie." Extends her hand out to him, waggling her eyebrows at him playfully to cuddle him. " We most definitely do have ourselves a deal. Though I know V and Archie want us to…I mean, we all agree we should keep it simple… but, how long do you think our whole, simple time will last? I'm hoping for our sake a while longer. But I know there is some unfinished business that always comes up. "


07/04/2020 11:38 PM 

prompt: the druid's promise.

A CONFESSION . the druid's promise      "I had power - not all the power I wanted - but it was enough. It didn't change anything. I was still alone. I'm always alone."    He confided quietly, baring his heart for the other man to see. The other man didn't flinch. He stared at Theo in a way that led him to believe he was conflicted. A sigh left the druid's lips, his hands resting on the operating table. He watched Theo - minutes passed before he found his voice, something to add to their fleeting conversation.    "I can't trust you." The druid's voice was withdrawn, tired. "I don't expect you to." Theo's was raw emotion, a repent. "I know. Believe me- I just need you to help me. Please. I don't know where else to go." Desperation wasn't a good look for the chimera. His eyes were wide and pleading, his voice strained. From the small silver operating table at the veterinarian's office, he watched as Deaton battled himself - wrong versus right, good or evil. Was Theo someone he could help? The youth could only pray. He spent the last hour talking to Deaton - primarily a one-sided plea, long-winded and no end in sight. Theo sunk his life story into Deaton, from the way his parents were killed by the Dread Doctors at age nine, to the night shortly after when he watched his sister die and took her heart, still warm, from her chest. He told Deaton every detail, words he'd been dying to express to someone, anyone, but never got close enough to. No one wanted the conversation. No one wanted the conflict Theo brought. He was troubled and bruised, a could-be hero shrouded by a dark and twisted past. If he couldn't redeem himself to Scott and his pack, he had to search elsewhere - and the operating table was the next place he landed after that very thought.    The youth was dying. His chest was torn open, a gory display of muddied blood, almost black and bullet holes that refused to heal contrasting greatly with the bright yellow wolfsbane fizzling out of the wounds. In the last ten years of his life, he didn't have anyone to talk to or count on. The fake parents he used to try to trick Scott took off the minute the Dread Doctors loosened their hold. The pack he tried to infiltrate all spread out and moved on, bringing in outsiders and youngblood that was much more trustworthy than him. Theo was alone. Alone and bound for death. So when he knocked on the closed veterinarian's door weakly, he didn't anticipate it actually opening - and he surely didn't expect Deaton to make haste in attempting to save his life. Incision after incision was made, yellow dust forced out of Theo's chest in small clouds but the wolfsbane was deep, plentiful, and spreading. He wasn't sure what got into him, but something about being on the brink of death again - something about returning to his own personal hell of having his sister's heart torn out from his chest made him spill everything. His entire life, his loneliness, his dreams, his desires. A pack. All he wanted was to belong, and on his deathbed, it seemed Deaton was willing to negotiate the terms of helping him gain it.   "Okay." The druid nodded. His face was grim. There wasn't any indication that Theo would be surviving long enough for him to keep his word. "If I can stop--" The older man waved his hands around Theo's torn open chest, grimacing. "- this. Then I'll do what I can. I can't promise you anything. You're a manufactured supernatural being - it may be difficult to sort out your abilities, what you can and can't do, but... you are gaining some as time goes on. There could be a possibility of you creating your own pack 'naturally', but we can't know for sure." He spoke fast and precise, running around the gears in his head. Lifting his scalpel back up, he made another incision over a fiery, bubbling wound, wincing at the chimera's groan.    Theo growled, low-pitched and worn out. His eyes flickered - stormy blue to shocking yellow - his body was trying to heal unsuccessfully around the poison bullets. His hands were seized at his sides, balled up into angry fists, claws biting into flesh. Despite the unbearable pain and the cold touch of death, Theo managed to smile a warm, genuine smile. Toothy and would've been gleaming if it hadn't been for the blood staining his teeth. His features were soft, vulnerable. Hope blossomed in his aching, shredded chest.    "Thank you--" Theo winced, forcing his lungs to work with a shaky release. "I won't forget this. I can't die, Deaton." With his heart thundering in his chest, he roared loud and painful, until his eyes remained lit and glowing. Sharp fangs extended and clattered together with a grunt, nose scrunched. "Not yet." 

Head Prat

07/09/2020 10:53 PM 

Ministry of Magic [C.S turn back time]

Prompt chosen by GingersnapYear: 1984 The ministry was a thing of beauty, every level a new marvel to the young, bright eyed ginger. Everything from the sheer amount of people that bustled around, an endless sea of colorful cloaks to the way every ceiling vaulted, a different scene displayed above that was rimmed in gold. Percy stared up at all of it in awe. It was just as he pictured, if not better. All the stories his father told them as they sat around the table eating, wild tales that pulled Percy in didn’t do the Ministry justice. It was more spectacular in real life, a place that for the first time in his short life, Percy felt at home.“Keep up Percy!”Percy trailed after his father and brother, eyes wide behind the thick frames, his mouth slightly agape. Usually he was latched to his father’s side, carefully mimicking everything his hero did from the way his father spoke with his hands when excited to the way he walked. Percy always listened and watched, waited patiently for his turn to speak and be seen by his father. Now he slinked behind, his attention elsewhere as he took it all in. Percy couldn’t figure out why Charlie had put up such a fight in going. It was brilliant. Magical.“Where’s the dragons,” Charlie whinged from up ahead. “You said there would be dragons.”“Dragons are in Gringotts, Charlie,” Percy piped up with a grin as he awkwardly jogged alongside his father to keep up. “There’s a floor that has people who make laws for creatures like dragons, but there aren’t any here. Right, dad?”The glare from Charlie instantly made Percy hide awkwardly around his father as they kept moving. “You don't know everything, you prat.”Percy’s nose wrinkled at the cruel name. It was something they called him when their parents weren’t around, but the lack of reaction from their father only showed he wasn’t paying any attention as he ushered them through the hall. Percy puffed his chest out a little, knowing he was right. “No, they protect Gringotts, you knobhead!”“Percy!”His face flushed in color as his father admonished him, a pout forming in his face. “Charlie called me a prat because I said there aren’t dragons here, that they are at the bank.”Arthur sighed, a look sent to Charlie. “Don’t call him a prat because he’s right about something. Now hurry up, there’s someone I want you to meet Charlie.”The air went out from under him, Percy’s hands lifted to block the blow as he hit the ground hard, his father disappearing in the crowd oblivious. He let out a slight whimper, everything one massive blur as pain radiated through his arms where he blocked his fall. Tears burned his eyes as Percy squinted, carefully reaching out to find where his glasses went. “Help me find my glasses or I’m telling dad.”“Tell him, he won't care. You think you are so smart but you can’t even figure out that dad didn’t even want to bring you. Mum made him to get you to shut up.”“Mum says lying is bad.”In a rough shove, Charlie forced Percy back down with a grin. “It's not a lie if you know it’s true.”The crunch was deafening to Percy’s ears as his heart sunk not just to the noise but what he knew was the truth. Charlie was right, even if Percy refused to admit it. He heard his father that morning trying to get out of taking him, saying he wanted to bond with Charlie before he went off to Hogwarts in a few weeks. Charlie hated the Ministry, something that Arthur wanted to change, to nudge his second born into loving just as much as he did. He didn’t see Percy, never noticed the way he clung to his stories and tried to engage with his father about wanting to be like him and work there. Percy wasn’t proud of the way he whined his way into going, but it worked.Percy glared after his older brother as he fought back his tears. Charlie didn’t say anything else, a satisfied smirk on his face as he walked off after their father. Quietly, Percy felt around for his glasses, a small sniffle as he gingerly lifted them up. He felt the earpiece fall off and his stomach tumbled with fear, making the tears rise faster. He knew the trouble he would be in, knew that they couldn’t afford a new pair of glasses for him. They barely scraped together enough to get him the current pair, Percy promising to take the best care of them. The itch started across his arms, tiny pinpricks that forced ugly welts to appear in his arms as the dread took over that he failed them. The frame twisted under his hold, pieces of the lens falling away and a tear of frustration fell, Percy angrily wiping it away.“Now, this isn’t a place to be sitting.”A soft voice of authority hit Percy like a punch and quickly he scrambled to his feet, glasses hidden behind his back. The woman like the rest of the world was unfocused, hard to look at without his head hurting. “I’m sorry.”The woman bent down in front of him as Percy took a shy step back. “You’re one of Weasley’s boys?”He smiled bashfully. “Percy.”She smiled at him kindly from what Percy could make out. “Well Percy, may I see your glasses?”He hesitated, thought of lying to get himself out of trouble but there was no point. The moment his father saw him he would ask where his glasses were, assuming Percy could find his dad now that he could barely see past his nose. The stern stare from the woman made him squirm until he surrendered them over. At the small tut, Percy’s cheeks went ruddy. “I fell.”She nodded in understanding before she tapped her wand against the frames. Instantly his glasses repaired themselves, the woman giving them a quick once over before she placed them gently onto his face. The world came back into focus, the smiling face the first thing that Percy saw. “I heard you talking with your brother. You seem to know an awful lot about the Ministry here.”“Yes, I want to work here just like my dad.” Percy’s smile fell a little, his hands stuffed into his pockets. “My brothers make fun of me for it. They say I’m a brown-nosing prat.”There was a look of recognition on her face as she stood back up, her hand stretched out for Percy to take. She took a quick glance around before she guided him through people, offering cheery greetings to those they passed. Percy watched it all, admired how everyone attempted to speak with her, gave her unified respect. The lift was massive, a hellish beast that spiked a fear in him. His mind when to Charlie, how he would have mocked him for being afraid of something so stupid and in three timid steps he shuffled his way inside.“Now Percy, I need you to promise me something.” She spoke once as the doors closed, face turned down at him.He knew it was coming, Percy’s small round face scrunched back in anticipation of being told off. “I know, I should take better care of my glasses and not wander off.”“Well yes, those are true but that’s not what I was going to say.” The warmness reached her eyes, made him feel safe. “Don’t let your brothers dissuade you from the Ministry by calling you a prat. My sister used to call me the same thing and you know what . . . some of the best, most intelligent people were called prats. Just look at me, I’m now the Minister of Magic.”Percy’s eyes widened as his heart skipped a beat. “You’re Minister Bagnold?”“Indeed, I am! Should I expect to see your application soon?”“I’m only eight! Well, I'll be eight in a week and five days.”She played along with a feigned gasp of shock. “Well, a few years' time then? We only accept the best here you know and my nose says you’re one of the best.”Percy brimmed with excitement, his cheeks flushed at the very idea that she saw something in him. The doors of the lift opened, revealing a new floor. He wanted to say something, anything to the Minister of Magic that would make him sound intelligent and not like a silly child but nothing formed between his mind and lips but a meager whisper of ‘bloody hell.’“Remember, the Ministry will always be a home for people like us. Now off you pop, your dad is in the first room to the left.”Percy stepped out from the lift, a wide smile on his face. He gave the Minister of Magic a slight wave before he ran off in the direction she told him. He couldn’t believe it, was still reeling from the fact he not only met Minister Bagnold but that she saw something in him.The Minister of Magic saw something in him.“Dad! Dad! You won’t believe who I just met!” He burst through the doors, Charlie’s face turned up to the ceiling in boredom as their father went on about something. “Daddy!”“That’s nice Percy, there’s some quills over in the corner.” Arthur said, gently waving him off. “Now Charlie, what’s fascinating about . . .”Percy backed away quietly from the pair, his excitement sinking alongside his heart. It took a moment for Minister’s Bagnold’s words to come back to him and they solidified within. He would do more than just work at the Ministry now, he wanted to give people like him hope when he was older. He was going to become the Minister of Magic one day.

Gypsy rose Corvin

07/08/2020 10:45 PM 


ษขแดแด…s แด€ษดแด… ส™แด‡แด€sแด›s

07/08/2020 09:20 PM 


This is a post to extend on my recent status regarding my character being used as a kink.I understand some people see a character like mine and deep in their mind comes these desires to see themselves and/or their characters used in demeaning ways. We all have things we enjoy be it in writing or in our own personal lives that can come alive in our fantasy world. What I have issue with is people coming into my inbox, lacking anything beyond a character looking for me to help get their rocks off in a round of cybersex. I refuse to allow myself, or my character, to be used in such a manner. Especially by you underage girls, who see my age requirements and adjust your profile to reflect it.Villains are attractive, even more so the ones we have learned so much about while growing up. The real deal. It is totally okay to have these desires, but it is not okay to take advantage of someone and the time they have spent developing their character, writing their personality, their experiences, their history, and throw it all away for a quick one off. I want story and time and development!I have absolutely no quarrel with writing sexual themes and/or relationships with this character, but they will be played out in a way that fits his personality/timeline. He is not a gentle lover, if you can consider anything he offers as love, and I have expanded up on before, he is a man without limits to what he can and will do, to anyone. This includes abusive relationships, mentally and physically.Please understand if you want a relationship with Dietrich, it will not be an easy path to take. It will be long and hard, with many trials and tribulations that may not even end up as the idea we have in our head. He is evil, a patriotic Nazi through and through, right down to his cold little heart. Do you think his relationship with a Jewish or Ethnic character would be played out with loving brunches and flowers and chocolates? No, absolutely not and I do not want to give you the idea that it would. If you want to roleplay that experience of forbidden love, I am okay with that! Talk and plot with me, that is all I am asking.Thanks,Dietrich 

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