#teddylacroix

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

@teddylacroix replied to your post “Can you give me a recipe for peppermint beef?”

Frank this looks like a ghastly but beautiful artbook painting for a violent anime.

This is just what a curried cow looks like, actually!

[fictionescapism]

Fanfic Rec #100 Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter) part 9

The Potter-Malfoy Problem by who_la_hoop The room of requirement's gone mad — at least, that's what Harry thinks. There's no way that Draco Malfoy 'requires' him, of all people, but why does it keep dragging Harry there like he's some kind of furniture, every time Malfoy enters it? Throw in Pansy the pervert and a clipboard-wielding Hermione, and things can only go from bad to worse. And that's not even mentioning the pirates . . .

Not Entirely Beautiful by Lomonaaeren A series of short fics where Draco comes back to Hogwarts without the "Malfoy Mask," and he and Harry become friends, then lovers.

Good to Me (And I’d Be So Good to you) by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix) Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry's groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that's okay: Harry's got a plan. {DTH Fest 2014}

The Printed Press by Soupy_George Draco Malfoy was still slightly amazed that he was standing on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He never would have thought that Harry Potter's very public and very ... sweary, emotional explosion would have led to him offering Draco, of all people, a job.

Life skills outside the curriculum by Endrina It was "Witch Weekly", of all people and organizations, the first to notice and comment on The Boy Who Lived’s absence from the ranks of first years at Hogwarts. The magazine went on to elucubrate that the young hero was studying at a foreign school, possibly Beauxbatons or Holzschuhkäse.

[penny-anna]

@teddylacroix replied to your post “Ok so: - Jaskier was, presumably, personally requested for the...”

There are a couple of cute fics that indicate Jaskier went back to Cintra several times while Ciri was growing up to play for her, but this Fan!Pavetta headcanon makes me wonder how many times Jaskier's gone to play for Pavetta as well? Especially given that he had a reputation in the beds of Cintra...

see this is making me imagine jaskier going to Cintra to like, play for Pavetta & Duny while they’re having a private romantic dinner or something... and consequently he knows a lot about their relationship.

[smoothoperatorleclerc]

Congrats on your 96!! What are your drinking?!

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!! I’m so damn happy and proud of myself like I worked so hard and that’s like the highest grade I’ve gotten on an exam in vet school and I’m just so pleased that all my hard work paid off!! I had a pina colada first and now I’m drinking a white wine! All sweeter drinks because I prefer the fruity and sweet alcoholic drinks!

[xdandelionxbloomx]

Soft headcanon: Throughout their travels, it's not uncommon for Geralt and Jaskier to sometimes spend months apart, Geralt heading into more treacherous areas, or Jaskier booked to play at courts and capitals for festival season. Whenever they do, though, a small strip of black leather can be found tied around one of the pegs of Jaskier's lute, and one of Jaskier's ribbons takes its place in Geralt's hair.

[a-kind-of-merry-war]

Ask: Jaskier's chest hair, eyes, or voice? 🤪

Hold on, in order to answer this question I’m going to need the assistance of my good friend @im-weak-my-love-and-i-am-wanting

Yeah, it’s the chest hair. Erry time.

(Saying that, Joey’s voice is a thing of beauty and I’ve not realllly listened to anything but The Horror and the Wild in like. Three weeks.)

[ruffboi-mags]

Serial Killer AU and Jaskier :D

Please keep in mind, I don’t usually title my playlists beyond like “character [universe]” so forgive me if it’s a stupid title:

when the wolf comes home a serial killer AU playlist for jaskier

1) Big God - Florence and the Machine 2) The Show Must Go On - Queen 3) Up the Wolves - The Mountain Goats

(send me a playlist title and I’ll give you 5-10 songs, or send me an AU and a character and I’ll give you a title and at least 3 songs)

[daisyannewinchester]

A Pleasant Interruption

This was just a little thing I wrote for @teddylacroix​ based off the one she wrote for me about our witchy selves. Inspiration struck.

Laurel waltz into the room without knocking, gooseflesh rising on her arms as the protective sigils carved into the door frame do their magic. The paper bag in her arms gets shifted to her hip as she frees a hand to flick away the ivy that slithers out to pluck at her hair. She gives it a gentle nudge and it coils away. A scan of the room does not reveal her friend like she hoped, the lounge seats where they do most of their studying and reading are abandoned. Their hat appears to have been tossed rather haphazardly onto one of the chairs, which was unusual for her friend to be so careless and untidy.

She peers around floating hanging baskets and flowering trees, wandering deeper into the sunlit room. The sun bares down, brilliant and warm through the magnificent paned dome that towers above her, reds and blues and yellows cast to the floor from the stained-glass astrological chart embedded in the dome. She follows the stone foot path towards their office.

“Sorrel?” she calls. She receives no response but doesn’t let that deter her. “I brought sushi?”

Turning the corner around a rather large oak, she stops and sighs fondly at the sight of her friend. The witch is hunched over a large volume on their desk, quill a fast flurry on the parchment scroll next to their book. Their lips move as they pour over the leather-bound text, gloved fingers light as they scan the aging yellow pages. They look harried and tired, their hair longer than normal and unkempt, strands frizzing and falling out of the clip at the back of their head. Dark bags have made home under their blue eyes, their skin pale from lack of sunlight. If Laurel can guess by the number of teacups, they’ve been awake for going on two days, hyper focused on whatever has been asked of them. Laurel doubts they have eaten or slept in quite a while. She knows how her sister can get when presented with a challenge. They won’t stop until it is just the way they want it, perfect in presentation and preciseness, their own wellbeing forgotten along the way.

Laurel steps around the desk to peer over their shoulder, making a face at the grotesque drawing of the extracted lion heart. Sorrel still doesn’t acknowledge her, too immersed in whatever they are reading to register her presence. Laurel sets her bag down on the heavy mahogany desk and pulls out the containers of sushi and dumplings she brought, cracking the lids open to let their wonderful aroma into the room. The herbs she brought from her own garden come out next. She gives Sorrel a few more minutes as she hangs the bundles of rosemary and dried hibiscus sabdariffa in the window next to their other drying herbs.

She hears a rumble and chuckles softly. Standing behind her friend, she gently cards her fingers though Sorrel’s hair, removing the clip to let all the waves fall into their face. They give a soft grunt of annoyance and with a twitch of their chin, try to flick the hair out of their eyes to no avail. Laurel combs and tames the brown locks, letting her fingers scratch over their neck soothingly. Slowly Sorrel’s shoulders sag, some of the stress slipping away.

Another growl of Sorrel’s stomach and Laurel speaks, knowing she has their attention. “You need to eat.”

“In a minute. Almost done.”

“That was what you said two days ago in the raven you sent me when you told me you had to skip our lunch date.”

“Hmm.” Sorrel hums dismissively, quill still scratching down notes.

Laurel makes her decision and reaches over their shoulder, lifting the ancient tome from the desk and closing it with a resounding snap. Sorrel makes a sound of protest that trails off at the sight of the open container of sushi and warm dumplings. They look up at Laurel with begrudging appreciation, removing the gloves from their hands and reaching for the sushi. They take a bite and sigh, leaning back in the chair and grinning at Laurel with a small smirk.

“That’s human skin, you know.”

Laurel squeals in disgust and quickly tosses the book away from her. A flick of Sorrel’s wrist and it lands safely on the cushion of the unoccupied chair across the desk. Meanwhile, Laurel is gagging and retching dramatically, wiping her hands on her chemise in revulsion.

“That’s disgusting! You are foul!” She points an accusing finger at Sorrel, the latter who smiles and huffs a small laugh, pleased with themself. Laurel huffs and throws herself theatrically into the chair opposite their desk before leaping up with a yelp at having sat on the same thick volume. A sweep of her hand and it is sent magically to the top of the stack of books along the wall, knocking another off carelessly. She waves her hand hurriedly before it hits the floor and it stops midair to float back up and land with a thump much more tamely on top of all the other books. Sorrel watches all of this with an eyebrow raised in amusement, offering the container of dumplings to the witch as she finally situates herself cross legged in the chair.

They enjoy their lunch in each other’s comfort, Sorrel explaining the complex spells the high baroness requested to cure some cursed ailment or another, stating how it was time sensitive and how they were the only one in Penity’s Leap willing to put in the time and studying to help the baroness. The other Sisters of the Blue in Penity’s Court would not help, believing it a natural ailment and not a curse.

As Sorrel packs the containers back into Laurel’s bag, they pause, head cocked in curiosity. They pull out a tiny pouch smelling strongly of frankincense masking something horrid. They can’t for the life of them, figure out the sigil weaved into the pouch. Despite all their studies it is foreign to them.

Laurel beams and plucks the back from their fingers, “Ah, yes the next little part of our lunch date. You my friend need to get out. You have been cooped in here for far to long and you’re going to drive yourself mad.” She raises her hand to halt Sorrels protests, “Your work will still be here when we get back, don’t fret.”

As she struggles with the knot she explains, “I’ve been experimenting with different plants and hoof powders and—” she makes a sound of triumph as the stubborn knot comes unraveled and she takes out a pinch of the powder inside, “—all you need is a bit of sunlight and sturdy ground and you just say where you want to go and— Sommerall Sands—” She tosses her powder into the patch of sunlight by Sorrel’s desk and a portal springs into existence, opaque and smelling strongly of salt and grass, “—ta da! Long distance portal!”

Sorrel’s eyebrows crawl into their hairline, eyeing the flickering portal with great reluctance. Laurel sees their hesitance and waves a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I already tested it!”

With that she steps through and disappears with a pop and whiff of salt. Sorrel shakes their head and binds their hair back with their clip before stepping through as well.

 They both portal onto the sandy beaches of the western coast, sunlight beaming down and a cool breeze kicking up their cloaks. It’s sand and ocean for as far as the eye can see in either direction, a giant hill of sand and rock at their back. Massive boulders in the water make the waves crash and spray, loud to join the howling winds. Sorrel takes a deep breath and exhales, letting all the stress fall from their shoulders. They tilt their face up to the sun and close their eyes, soaking in the much-needed rays.

Laurel privately beams to herself, pleased to see her sister-in-bond finally relaxing. She nudges Sorrel, “You can finally collect those algae and urchin samples you’ve been wanting.” She holds out empty vials to them.

Sorrel’s heart warms and it’s not the sunlight. They peck a kiss on Laurel’s deep red hair and grabs her hand, hauling her towards the water with childlike excitement.

They play and splash and collect until Laurel’s skin turns as pink as the sunset they sit to watch with their feet in the water. Miles and miles of emptiness means freedom from the life and expectations of the Sisters of the Blue, allowing them to dirty themselves and slouch and swear without care. Not a critical eye around. And as Laurel tries and fails with her experimental portal, cursing wildly in hopes that will somehow fix everything, Sorrel laughs and laughs, deep in their belly that leaves them doubled over gasping for breath and tears in their eyes.  

Laurel, after much frustration and trying of different locations, crows with triumph as a portal stands in front of her, weak and popping like sparks. Sorrel snorts and with a whisper creates their own portal to step through, chuckling at Laurel’s shocked indignant spluttering before she too leaps through her own portal, landing right on the ancient skin bound tome, sending all the books cascading to the floor, the massive textbook landing with a smack right over her face.