kivaje_moon
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The Wild Birds in the Cúil by kivaje_moon, Wall_Of_Photos
Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
12 Jul 2025
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Summary
“You can’t be serious,” Percy hissed, anger punching straight through him. He gripped onto the edge of the bookcase, white knuckled and shaking. His rage was oil thick, spilling out of him—onto the floor, the shelves, across their books.
Marcus Flint, sitting in Percy's chair, at Percy's table, barely spared him a glance.
“I told you.” Penelope tried desperately, her voice barely above a whisper. "Flitwick said—at dinner— I thought you already knew.”
She at least had the decency to look, almost a little bit ashamed.
“Obviously not!” he seethed.
Marcus smirked into his textbook, one he clearly wasn’t reading, and something familiar clawed in Percy’s chest, spitting and vicious and close to breaking.
Percy wanted to set it alight.
Or, Percy Weasley was doing okay, thank you very much. He was perfectly fine. If he could ignore the thing rattling around his skull, how his breath caught in his throat, the mounds of schoolwork in his corner and the nervous glances from his friends that he pretended he couldn’t see.
He was doing just fine.
And he didn’t need anyone to ruin that.
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Summary
In 1965, Voldemort became Minister for Magic. In 1968, the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix was destroyed, the remnants of the terrorist organisation driven underground. By 1970, all was well in Great Britain.
The year is 1984. Sirius Black has just turned 25. He's rich, he's powerful, and most importantly--he's bored.
But all of that is about to change.
8/24/23
PLEASE DON'T POST MY FICS ON GOODREADS/STORYGRAPHS/ETC.PLEASE DON'T REPOST MY WORKS ON ANY OTHER SITES.
PLEASE DON'T PRINT OR BIND MY WORKS USING THIRD PARTY SITES THAT MAKE A PROFIT - DO IT BY HAND OR NOT AT ALL. DO NOT SELL BOUND COPIES OF MY FICS.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 199,830
- Chapters:
- 29/29
- Comments:
- 2,497
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- 5,613
- Bookmarks:
- 1,819
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- 253,633
Bookmarked by kivaje_moon
10 Sep 2025
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1978. war creeps, it prowls. forgive james if he is not yet adjusted to the stench of death.
Series
- Part 1 of devil in the details
Bookmarked by kivaje_moon
05 Sep 2025
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“It, uh, takes over me sometimes,” he says. His voice is quiet, almost lost beneath the sound of the air rushing around them. “It’s sporting and I’m good at it, but then there’s something else. Beneath my skin, and sometimes it just… bursts out and I like it too much and I can’t stop myself.” He can’t bring himself to speak any louder, can’t bring himself to believe that someone else is hearing him say this. He’s a rowdy and he’s delighted in the rebellion, in the moments of abjection when someone can see the gleam of skillful violence in his eyes and flinch back. Violence is a means to an end, but that’s not all it is to him. “And it’s also the most interesting thing about me. The only thing, really, about me.”
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Maxwell has been a fighter, much longer than he’s been an adventurer.
Series
Bookmarked by kivaje_moon
05 Sep 2025
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Summary
“What? The switcheroo? I have not been switcheroo’d, Maxwell,” says Olethra, at once utterly confused, and doubly so when Maxwell looks confused at her confusion. “I think I would notice if my brain was a chimp or something. I’d hope you guys would notice, actually.”
“What are you…no, no, not that! Obviously not the Zood one! I mean, more of a, a…” A lengthy pause. Maxwell exhales hard through his nostrils. “A…Gath switcheroo.”
Olethra blinks, at length. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”Bookmarked by kivaje_moon
05 Sep 2025
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Summary
“Don’t you love me, Fabian Seacaster?” Baron’s bone-white face grins up at him from behind the glass, his grin wide and cracking, tearing at the hinges of his jaw. The eye sockets are empty voids, deep crevices and fissures spreading from the empty cavities as the face comes closer to the surface of the mirror.
It changes, then — first the colour, like sun-tanned flesh spreading out over the porcelain skin, ears elongating into pointed elf-ears, the hair turning a silvery and familiar shade. Eyebrows form, a mess of scar tissue forming on one side of the face right over where the eye sits, and on the other side a familiar grey eye blinks back at him in the next second.
His own face is staring back at him, a manic, feral look in his eye and an expression on his face that he’s never seen before. He watches as it splits further into a wide grin — a crazed, savage thing, and his mirror counterpart’s lips curl around an accent not his own. His own face looks back, stares him in the face, and asks, “Don’t you love me, Fabian Seacaster?”
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Baron haunts those that lie about who they love. Fabian is very confident, and brags about his popularity. Turns out, those things affect each other.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 23,973
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 1
- Comments:
- 6
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- 37
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Bookmarked by kivaje_moon
05 Sep 2025