#I honestly think George is approaching the subject as well as he can. it's always left in the air that marry and bedding someone this young

[thesilverlady]

Hi! So I've been thinking about this for some time now, it seems to me like GRRM often exagerates the misogyny women suffered in medieval times.

It's not that women were happy and living in utopia but from reading about different historical societies and time periods in comparison to what he is writing it looks super exaggerated and women often suffer a lot more than what it would be like in comparison to real life.

Maybe it's just me and I don't want to sound mean..but it's starting to feel weird...for example there's a lot of women that have died from the birthing bed, a big number and although it happened it wasn't like every hour a woman died giving birth to a child. Another thing that bothers me it's when really young characters start having sex (Aemma, Daenerys, Viserys II....) It's super bizarre since yes of course women tended to be younger but and I'm pretty sure that no one was advising to have sex with a 13 year old child (there are cases I'm sure but normally it was frowned upon). Even politically women are more restrained ... I don't know maybe I'm seeing gohsts where there are none 😂.

it's definitely a valid subject to criticize and it's been something I've been conflicted over myself.

grrm is generally a. fantastic author; he knows how to write characters, worldbuilding, dialogue and how to play with themes.

With that being said, I can totally understand your feelings on the subject.

On the one hand, you're right, the whole "died in childbirth" is. just a very convenient, easy way to get rid off a female character while adding a tragedy to the mix. On the other hand.... some of these characters were simply not meant to be around.

I think he has definitely tried to add some elements around childbirth death to make it slightly different each time. Like, in f&b the difference between Alyssa Velaryon and Daella Targaryen who both died in childbirth is that Alyssa was at a quite old age and had complications from her pregnancy and her husband and maesters completely disregarded her health and basically sacrificed her to get that child out (for context: her dead was basically what Aemma had in the show. they copied it from that part of the story) In her tragic death, we see how shitty her husband was and the power maesters have over life. We do get her other daughter, Rhaena, rightfully calling out Rogar Baratheon's callous actions.

With Daella her death., while similar is a bit different because her issue was that she was waaay too young. Her mother, Alysanne felt guilty after her death and even wondered if it would have been so much for Daella to stay a child a while longer before pushing her to marry.

Both fall.victims to the patriarchy that is established in Westeros, in the belief that a woman's duty is to be a wife and a mother and a childbirth death while sad is noble. I won't analyze each childbirth death we see 'cause that would take forever - but I do think they all kinda serve a theme that has been existing all throughout the asoiaf series.

As for the age.... listen, i know it's uncomfortable for everyone but I think that's purposely done. Later in the series dany does think. of her old 13 yo self as a child so George doesn't pretend that she wasn't.

Were her descriptions in the first book oversexualized? Sure

But as for the age factor, I study history and cultures at uni and you'd be surprised at the age range young girls were thought to be suited for marriage and childbirth. You gotta consider multiple ethinicies, cultures, social norms, and not to mention life expectancy which played a huge factor in this.

George takes inspiration for all of this. The series is not meant to be a realistic portrayal.

And while I constantly think about the pro and cons about the way George writes his female characters, i don't see enough prase nowadays about how he writes the vulnerability of girlhood, or motherly love, or the caging feeling of being a woman who lives in such a restraining society.

As a man George does a surprisingly amazing job at describing these feelings. And while, I definitely think we should be objective and consider the good, the bad and the ugly with how he writes woman, the good heavily outweigh the bad

[sourholland]

A Royal Convienence || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part One

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

AN → I’m so excited for this, I honestly thought it’d be out a little sooner but whatever.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.8k

Word of the royal engagement had spread quickly, not only by mouth, but through the newspapers as well.

Prince Thomas of Wales and Princess Y/N of France would be married in the spring. Only six weeks awaiting the royal wedding where the crown prince would marry the firstborn princess of France. Rumors of His Majesty, King Dominic’s ill health thickened the air, leaving the country to wonder if the reason for the sudden alliance was perhaps in favor of the succession of the eldest prince.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed his head as you stepped from the ship onto the dock.

You lifted your gloved hand to his outstretched fingers, helping you onto the grass. The clouds hung grayly in the sky, droplets of rain threatening to spill. The man guided you to the carriage not far from where you’d disembarked. He was clearly a member of the royal guard, dressed stiffly and talking very little. You couldn’t tell if this was due to your status or the requirements he was to adhere to.

The inside of the carriage was decorated richly, plush bench seats accompanied by satin curtains of gold. You were tempted to reach over and touch them, retracting your hand when the carriage jerked and began to move through the crowded streets of London.

You were exhausted, hardly sleeping on the journey from France. You’d been unable to keep down any food, seasick and lethargic the whole way. You hadn’t been able to freshen up, assuming that your hair which had been pulled back was a mess by now. You also hadn’t been afforded the luxury of taking your ladies with you, some of which had been with you since you were a girl. This was making things like lacing your own corset considerably more difficult.

The whole way to Buckingham Palace had gone by rather fast, the scenery passing you by reduced to blurs in your memory. It was a much different atmosphere than that of France, or at least what you’d been allowed to see of it. You spent most of your early life being taught how to rule a country, being the heir to the throne until you reached the age of fourteen. Your mother, the Queen Consort Marie, had finally produced a son, an heir, a male to take the throne once the king died.

This day, the day when your brother Prince Louis was born, had been one of the most dreadful days of your life. Everything you’d been working towards, learning about, being trained for, was stripped away from you. After that, you’d been reduced to what it seemed every woman was around you, aristocracy or not, an object of marriage.

Some years later, you would be called into the throne room and told by your father that you would be wed to the Crown Prince of England. You’d only met Prince Thomas once before, at the English Duke’s wedding when you were only twelve years old. He had been only fourteen, unbothered and unfazed by your presence. From what you recalled, your encounter with him had been less than pleasant.

You’d made several attempts to speak with the Prince throughout the night, taking your mother’s words of encouragement. He brushed you off every time, once telling you that he did not care for the French, nor your way of approaching the ‘next King of England.’

“Ma’am.”

You were brought away from your thoughts at the man’s words, your head rising from its place at the wall of the carriage. You glanced out the window, the large palace greeting you. You remembered nothing of coming through the gates, or even seeing the Buckingham Palace for the first time.

You stepped out, flattening your skirts with your palms and doing the best with your hair. You couldn’t imagine how improper you’d probably looked, your stomach churning at the thought of walking through the doors of the palace.

The walk from the carriage to the set of doors that led you into the large entryway was short. The walls were covered in rich fabrics, candles lighting each walkway. The guards accompanying you remained silent, the sound of your shoes against the fine carpet in your ears. You remembered your governess, the way she’d always remind you that a princess never slouched. The straightening of your back and extra spry in your step helped you to gain back a bit of confidence.

Through what felt like dozens of twists and turns, the tallest guard was pushing open two large doors. You stepped in wearily, recognizing it as the throne room. You suddenly became very aware of your appearance, the way you must be an absolute mess.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of France,” he announced to the room.

You walked before the throne and gave a deep curtsy to both King Dominic and Queen Nicola. You met each of their eyes nervously, you knew it was wrong to look for any bit of illness in the king, unable to help yourself from noticing his paleness and sunken in eyes.

“Your Majesties,” you addressed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a girl,” she remarked. “Of course, then you were to be the Queen of France. And now—well, there’s Prince Louis, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you answered with a twinge of bitterness. “My brother should take the throne some day.”

King Dominic’s eyes scanned over you promptly, looking for any imperfection, any flaw to point out. This wasn’t odd behavior of a king, yet it still seemed to make you stammer over your words.

“You’ve grown very beautifully, I’m glad of this,” she added. “We’ve had portraits sent over, however, I will say that you are a fine-looking girl.”

There was no sign of the Prince, nor his younger brothers. It was only the king and the queen that occupied the throne room. You felt almost relieved of this, not wishing to see any more people in your current state. You also dreaded your imminent fate, a vow of marriage to a man you hardly knew, let alone could stand.

The large doors opened once more, revealing the eldest Prince, behind him were the twins, and next was the youngest. Prince Thomas held a blank expression, his eyes not yet meeting your own as he walked with his brothers to bow at his parents feet.

“Thomas, I’m sure you remember Y/N,” his mother said, motioning towards you.

His gaze fell on you, his eyes dipping from the cream colored skirts that swayed at your feet, to the mess of hair falling into your face slightly. His hair was slicked back and styled, the embroidery on his tunic rich and in season. His eyes darkened, a look of disdain flashing for a moment.

“I do, mum, I quite clearly recall us being introduced at cousin George’s wedding a few years back,” he answered.

He forced a grin, looking to his mother for approval. She went on about wedding preparations, dining plans, and which wing of the castle your chamber would be. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much of a rambler Queen Nicola truly was. You could only blame it on her longing for a daughter, and the fact that this was the first wedding she’d be able to orchestrate for one of her sons.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet me to choose an engagement ring, then to tea where your Ladies in Waiting will be,” she spoke modestly. “It’s far too late to do anything this evening. Though, I’m sure a chaperone could be arranged if you and Tom wished to speak for a time privately.”

“That won’t be necessary, mum. It’s quite late, I’m sure the Princess would rather retire to her chamber for the night,” the Prince interrupted. Good, you thought. You had no desire to be anywhere near Thomas, not now, and definitely not for what was playing out to be the rest of your miserable life.

“Ma’am,” you started. “Do excuse me if I’m incorrect, however, I thought Prince Thomas should have been the one to choose an engagement ring?” You asked, a snort came from Tom, a dismissive look from the Queen following. He grimaced as his younger brother, Prince Sam, you assumed, had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well—yes, you are correct. Traditionally, if you and Thomas had courted, and then he’d gone to your father for his blessing, he would have chosen an engagement ring once you agreed to have him. This is not a traditional engagement, though. You’ll look through some of our most precious jewels, I assure you, Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up at her words, drowning out the last of her speech and curtsying again as she and the king left the room. The three younger Princes followed suit, Tom stopped at the archway for a moment. A servant most likely waited behind those slightly ajar doors, ready to escort you to your chambers.

“Princess,” your title lingered on his lips.

“Prince Thomas, can I help you?”

“I wish you would not refer to me as Thomas, that god awful name is reserved for my mother,” he said shortly. “Tom will do fine.”

“Prince Tom, then. Is there a reason you’ve stayed back? We shouldn’t be alone in here,” you had only been in the palace a short time and the last thing you wanted was a scandal.

His expression was not endearing in the least, he looked burdened by you. His jaw was set, his eyes malice, the curl of his lip in disgust. You took in a breath, mimicking his body language and going to pass him out into the hall. You were caught off guard by the jerking of your forearm, his hand grasping at it harshly and pulling you much closer to his face than you had been before.

“If this is what I must do for my country then so be it, however, do not think for a second that I would ever willingly marry someone like you,” he cursed, leaning in so close that you could feel his cool breath on your skin.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you said, looking him dead in the eyes. The weight of his words stung like a blade, his expression like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Well then, something we can agree on.”

You yanked away from him, brushing off his grasp and looking up at him with narrowed-eyes. He gritted his teeth as you flattened the fabric of your skirts once more before you left the large room in a fleeting motion.

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r

[chudleycanonficfest]

The Switch

Day 10, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: The Switch

Author: adenei

Pairing: George Weasley/Angelina Johnson

Prompt: First Date

Rating: T

TW: Mentions of character death

***********

The shop is quiet as George locks the door to his office. It’s been a month since the grand re-opening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, and the steady thrum of customers has put the business back on track to where it was before the untimely closure due to the war. Things are different, of course, with Fred not being there, but George’s family and friends have stepped up and offered more support than George knows what to do with—not that he wanted it in the first place.

  In retrospect, he is thankful for his family and friends, Ron and Angelina in particular. They helped him put down the bottle and get his life back on track. 

  “Fred wouldn’t want this.” Angelina had told him late one night while she and Lee were staying over in his flat that smelled of days-old Firewhisky and hadn’t been cleaned since before they’d gone into hiding at Aunt Muriel’s.

  “How would Fred feel if you let everything the two of you worked for go to shit? How would you feel if the tables were turned and if it was—” Ron had yelled as he snatched the half-full bottle away from his brother and dumped it down the drain. The emotion was raw as the words caught in his throat, the end of the phrase hanging between them like the weight of a bludger pulling them down and grounding them.

  At first, he’d been pissed, but they were right. Fred wouldn’t have wanted George to resort to any of that. And even though he’d been begrudging in accepting help to begin with, George knew he wouldn’t have gotten the shop up and running as swiftly as he did without everyone’s help. The hole in his heart still ached, and not a moment went by where he didn’t miss his brother, but finding a new stride in this post-war life is exactly the push George needed to not only move on but also honor and make Fred proud.

  As George makes his way onto the main floor of the shop, a figure standing behind the counter makes him pause. He’d recognize that silhouette anywhere, the unrequited crush from his Hogwarts days now thrust back in his life, as if to taunt him of just another thing he’ll never have.

  “You’re still here?” The exhaustion is apparent in George’s voice after a ten-hour day.

  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure you didn’t stay on and try to do all the inventory yourself again like last week.” Angelina runs her fingers over the various displays of fireworks that are locked away behind the checkout area as she lightly teases George.

  “Nah, I learned from that mistake. Besides, don’t you have your regular job that you need to get back to? Now that things are running smoothly again, we’ll be able to manage without the extra help. Especially once things die down after the first.”

  “I don’t mind spending a few hours here after work, you know that. Things’ll start to pick up again soon once the Quidditch season gets underway, I’m sure, but right now, my corresponding duties are light. Call me crazy, but I’ve enjoyed spending more time with you lately. Almost makes me feel like we’re back in Hogwarts, you know? When real life and responsibilities seemed so far away.”

  A chuckle escapes George’s lips. It was true, all this time they’d been spending together, especially with Lee and sometimes Alicia, almost made everything feel right again.

  “Well, we can hang out in other places, too. I swear I don’t live at Wheeze’s.”

  “George, you live upstairs.”

“Ah, bugger off.”

  “I’m only teasing.”

  “And all I’m saying is if you want to do something outside these walls, all you have to do is ask.”

  “Are you hungry, then?”

  A genuine laugh bubbles up into George’s throat at Angelina’s brazenness. “Bloody hell, woman! Impatient much?”

  His outburst brings a smile to Angelina’s face, brightening the dark circles under her eyes from the extra hours spent helping out. 

  “You’re the one who said to ask. So, what do you say? Fancy a drink and a meal down the street? It’s late enough that the Leaky shouldn’t be too busy.”

  “I s’pose it couldn’t hurt. Beats making something for myself, that’s for sure.”

  “Great, let’s go.” 

  Angelina walks around the counter and reaches out to take George’s hand in hers. An electric shock shoots up his arm from the point of contact, and George has to stop himself from pulling away from the surprise of it all. A memory flashes through his mind of twinkling lights amongst a silver backdrop in the Great Hall all those years ago. He sees two figures dancing and twirling to the music of the Weird Sisters, one with flaming red hair much like his own and the other whose sapphire gown swished against the travertine floor. The memory brings a reminiscent smile to his lips as Angelina tugs him out the door.

  When they reach the Leaky, the pair settles into a quiet booth in the back of the establishment, away from curious eyes. It’s late in the evening for a meal, which is made evident by the empty tables and chairs scattered throughout the pub. Only a handful of patrons litter the bar, allowing Tom to be attentive to their needs. 

  George takes a large swig when the barkeep returns with Butterbeers, and they place their orders.

  “No shot of Firewhisky tonight then?” 

  George shakes his head. “I told you, Ange, I was serious about stopping. I can’t use the bottle as a crutch for grief anymore.”

  Angelina nods as she observes him intently. George can feel the heat of her gaze trailing over him as he takes another sip from his drink. 

  “You’re staring.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “Oh? And here I was thinking I was mesmerizing you with my dashing good looks,” George quips. 

  Angelina smiles, and for a moment, George thinks he sees a blush on her cheeks before she recovers.  For all the time they spent together during Hogwarts, and more recently in the months following the war, George finds it odd that they’re struggling with conversation now.

  “Knut for your thoughts?” asks George.

  “Just that it’s been nice reconnecting with you. And Lee. Circumstances are shit, of course, but with my hectic schedule during Quidditch season, I don’t get much time for socializing and friends. I even had to drop my registration for the semi-pro league I was hoping to play for.”

  George nods, and his stomach twists as he processes her words. That would mean she’d be leaving soon once things got busy. He’s overcome with the urge to see if her job is something she’s passionate about.

  “Do you love it? Your job, I mean.”

  “Well, yeah, if I can’t play professionally, the next best thing is writing and commentating. Plus, I’ve gotten to see the world all on the Ministry’s dime. Can’t complain there…”

  “But is it something you see yourself doing for a long time?” George presses. He doesn’t mean to sound judgmental, but he needs to know if it’s even worth it to pursue.

  “Well, after graduation, it seemed like the right fit. The opening was there, my parents were encouraging me to see the world, and I didn’t have anything tying me down. Honestly, I think my parents thought it was safer for me to travel, especially with the war on...”

  And what about now? 

  George is nodding his head up and down while the question ricochets in his mind. He opens his mouth, gathering the courage to allow the four words to escape his mouth when Angelina interrupts him.

  “Well, there are some openings that would allow me to stay in London that have just come up. They’re looking for commentators and stats writers for the matches played in the Kensington stadium. So, if you needed an extra hand at the shop, I could stay—”

  “—I don’t want you to stay for the shop. If you want to travel the world, you should. I doubt you’ve seen all the world has to offer in two seasons.”

  No! What are you thinking! 

  George can almost hear Fred chastising him for his rash response. It doesn’t come out the way he meant it to sound, and he knows he messed up given the crestfallen look on Ange’s face.

  “I only meant—”

  “I-I’ve actually already put in for the London job, George. And I promise it’s not because of the shop. Lee promised to help me with commentating, and this way I can play again. I start training next week. You know how much I missed playing Quidditch, and now that England is safer, I can stay and have the best of both worlds.” 

  The longer she goes on, it feels like she’s rambling and going on with a laundry list of pre-prepared reasons, which doesn’t sound like the Angelina he knows. It’s almost like she’s trying to convince herself that those are the reasons she’s staying, and not for anything else.

  “Oh.”

  Ange rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry, I know you and Fred always used to think you two were the center of the universe, but I promise I didn’t choose to stay just for you.”

  Her voice is light, and she’s smiling, but George can’t help but sense something else lingering beneath the surface. Disappointment, perhaps? Or maybe he’s just reading into things too much. Hoping something might be between them that really isn’t. He forces himself to stop overthinking and simply enjoy her company instead.

  “Well, I, for one, am happy you’re staying. We’ll be able to get together more often, and it’ll almost feel like our Hogwarts days. Maybe I’ll even be able to convince you and Alicia to test new products again.”

  Angelina nearly spits out her Butterbeer at George’s joke as Tom approaches with their meal. He knows he’s not fooling either of them; the irony is that the girls were always two steps ahead of him and his brother. They were the only two in their year who managed to avoid becoming test subjects to all of their prototypes.

  The two fall into more reminiscing as they tuck into their fish and chips. George doesn’t realize how ravenous he is until he starts eating, and he’s even more grateful for Ange’s suggestion now.

  As they are polishing off the remainder of their baskets, the topic of conversation falls on the Yule Ball, as Ange remembers how Fred had tossed the wad of paper at her.

  “It was romantic, wasn’t it?” George jokes as he remembers his brother’s ridiculous attempt at asking a girl out. “Still don’t know why you said yes to that tosser.”

  To this day, he’d always resented his brother for drawing his wand first and asking Ange to the ball. Of course, George knew it was all meant to be a bluff. It was Fred’s attempt to get his brother to buck up the courage and ask Angelina for himself. 

  George remembers it vividly. “Just ask her. What’s the worst she’ll say? No? Fine, if you won’t do it, I will.”

  When Fred had gotten Ange’s attention, George had no idea what to expect. They were usually well in tune with each other, and George could anticipate Fred’s moves, but when his brother had asked Angelina himself, it took George by surprise.

  “We were getting down to the wire, weren’t we?” Angelina interrupts George’s thoughts. “No one else had asked me, so I figured it was better to go with one twin than none at all.”

  George chooses the wrong moment to polish off the last of his chips. The fried potato catches in his throat, and he coughs it up, all while reaching for the last dredges of his Butterbeer to clear things out.

  Did she just say it was better to go with one twin than none at all? But then that would mean… 

  “Ange, don’t tell me you were waiting for me to ask you.”

  She shrugs and averts her eyes from his gaze. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been disappointed if you’d asked, let’s put it that way.”

  After this revelation, George burst into laughter. To anyone else in the near vicinity, it probably sounded like he should be admitted to the Janus Thickney Ward. He hasn’t laughed this hard since he and Fred were able to pull off a prank on Muriel shortly after arriving at her Manor at the end of March.

  “You—Fred—I—me—” He can’t seem to formulate a coherent string of thoughts until Angelina goes from amused to offended.

  “Honestly, George, I didn’t realize it was that funny. Forget I said anything.” She checks her watch and gathers her bag. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. It’s getting late, and clearly the thought of the two of us together appalls—”

  She’s in the process of standing up when George sobers from the onslaught of irony and reaches out to grab her wrist.

  “Ange, wait. I’m not laughing at that. Just—just give me a chance to explain, yeah?” He pulls her into the bench beside him, where she lands on her bottom harder than she needed to as she lets out a loud huff of indignation.

  “Fred never intended to go with you when he asked.”

  “Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have raised so high on her face that George is surprised they haven’t gotten lost in her braids.

  “No, what I mean is, he’d been pestering me to ask you since the ball was announced. He knew I had a thing for you—obviously—and was being supportive.”

  It felt weird for George to admit that he fancied Angelina in school now, after so many years of keeping it close to his chest. Fred and Lee were the only two who ever knew.

  “So, what are you trying to say, then?”

  “When Fred asked you...I was shocked, too. I didn’t realize he’d already devised a plan that I didn’t cotton on to right away.”

  The look on Angelina’s face transformed from defensive to shock to comprehension, all in the span of a few seconds. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Being an identical twin has—er, had—its benefits.”

  “So.. are you trying to tell me that I didn’t go to the ball with Fred?”

  “Nope.”

  “And at the end of the night, when I kissed Fred in an attempt to make you jealous, I was actually kissing you all along?”

  “Sorry if it was disappointing.” The wisecrack escapes George’s lips before he can stop it.

  Half of him is expecting Angelina to slap him for the ‘switcheroo’ that he and Fred pulled, and in fairness, they deserved it. What if Ange actually had fancied Fred, and they’d pulled one over on her?

  But to his surprise, Angelina does the opposite. She leans in and kisses George right then and there. The same shock he felt when holding her hand earlier ignites within him once more as he lets his body take control. He allows himself to get lost in the feel of her lips, realizing that it’s the first time he’s truly felt like himself since Fred’s passing. He even dares to let himself think he’s found happiness again.

  Eventually, George pulls away as his lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen. They remain close, foreheads touching as he offers a weak smile. 

  “Y’know, I was going to tell you it was me at the end of the night, but how could I when I thought I was going to break your heart when you thought you’d kissed Fred?”

  “You’re insufferable, you know that?” 

  “Yeah, but you can’t argue with sixteen-year-old George’s logic, can you?”

  Ange rolls her eyes and leans back. George misses the contact as soon as it’s gone.

  “What do you say we get out of here?” Ange raises her eyebrows in question as if tempting him to follow when she scoots out from the bench a second time.

  George pulls enough money to cover their meals out of his wallet and leaves it on the table before scooching out behind her. He pays no mind to the remaining customers as he pulls Angelina back into him and whispers in her ear,

  “I’d say we’ve wasted five years of pointless pining to wait any longer.”

[starlight-writes-stuff]

Hey lovey! Could I request a mcyt headcanon thing of how they each are in bed?

hi angel , and of course ! as always im sorry this took forever lmao . hope u enjoy (((:

AYO LOOK AT THESE : smut ! rough sex , choking , scratching , hair pulling , breeding / unprotected sex (wrp it b4 u tap it , bbys) , overstimulation , light bondage , i think thats all (:

reblogs are always appreciated <3

dream :

out of all the feral boys dream is the roughest for sure

it's all his gamer rage coming out

he truly has to control himself  / hold back

because he wants to fuck you until you cant remember your own name

but doesnt want to break you

he’s not the biggest fan or foreplay , only because he’d much rather feel you wrapped around him

but he loves to go down on you

would prep you with his fingers because lord knows you’ll need it

and once you started to squirm he’d get so cocky

“if you cant take my fingers , you definitely cant take all of me, baby .”

so many pet names - baby , kitten , pretty girl , bunny , bun , my little whore

he’d make you cum twice on his fingers alone

and wouldn’t fuck you until he was aching for any sort of stimulation

wouldn’t use protection (w your consent !!!)

the thought of his cum deep inside you , painting your insides … it fucks him UP

you KNOW clay would be the motherfucker to slap his dick on your pussy

would groan at the sound of how wet you were for him

he’d run the tip of his cock through your folds and collect your arousal

until you were begging him to fuck you - and even then he’d wait a moment longer

he’d ease in slowly , making sure you felt every single inch 

and would praise the FUCK out of you

“look so pretty taking my cock , bunny”

he’d stop to let you adjust to his length, but he’d be so arrogant as you bucked your hips

“want more , sweet thing ?”

you’d just nod , the pressure building in your tummy too much to produce words

and clay would grab at your chin so fuCKING agressivley

“i asked you a question , whore .”

he would just ruin you (in the most respectful way possible)

you’d cum for the third time within mere seconds

the room would be filled with the sound of harsh , slapping skin

you moans mixing with his - it was like a symphony to him

at some point your legs would go completely limp from the shear amount of pleasure clay was providing

and he’d circle an arm around your hips , holding your body to his as you came yet again

he’d get progressively less vocal as he approached his high , his raspy moans turning to rough growls and groans

and he’d bury himself deep inside of you as he came , muttering scratchy praises into the crook of your neck

as you and clay started to come down together it would be a complete 180

he’d pull out so gently , watching the way his cum dripped out of you

and would press sweet , tender kisses to every inch of skin he could get his mouth on

clay would run soft fingers over every bruise , every mark he left on your skin

admiring his work

he loves the way you look after sex - all fucked out and dewy eyed

would wet a washcloth with warm water and clean you up while murmuring over and over how much he loved you

the two of you would fall asleep pretty quickly after in a tangled mess of limbs

sex with him is quite the workout

george :

gogs <3

i have many thoughts on this subject yall

wakin up in the mornin , thinkin about so many things

would LOVE foreplay

something about being so intimate but not actually fucking is so <3 to him

he loves every single moment of it

starting from when a simple peck turns to something deeper

george’s tongue rolling over yours as he cups a hand under your jaw 

would do the thumb thing™ on your cheek

his free hand would roam up and down the curve of your hips

then up and under your shirt

the way that your breath hitched would make him sh i v e r

and george would start kissing down your neck and over your jaw to your neck

loves hickeys

and biting you

he’d take yall to some place soft if you weren’t already there and start to undress you

adores the action of getting you out of your clothes and insists on taking your shirt off himself

is obsessed w your titties

rolling your nipples between his fingers

sucking on the sensitive nubs , flicking his tongue over them until you could cry from pleasure

then leaves sloppy , hot kisses all the way down your body

is so good with his hands

knows the exact way to curl his fingers inside you

and is very good at keeping a rhythm that pushes you over the edge

but truly have you seen that boys hands because like

he’s all about pleasuring you in bed

it's his number one priority

and he knows your body incredibly well

the boy knows how to make you cum without even trying

yall have experimented and figured out what feels best

and he’s perfected those techniques

on the non physical side of things however

sex with george would be s i n f u l

the things he would say to you …

and in his fucking ACCENT no less

starlight has a voice kink

god he would talk so fucking dirty

the filthiest things falling from his lips as he’s thrusting in and out of you

he’d be so vocal

“just like that , love ,” he’d pant before throwing his head back

his fingers would dig into your hips as his moans turned to whimpers

the two of you would reach your highs one after the other

but george always makes sure that you finish first

sapnap :

we’re just gonna address this right away

daddy kink

(“call me big daddy” , sapdaddy , need i say more ?)

pretty dominant but not necessarily aggressive

more mentally dominant if that makes any sense ???

wants you so far in subspace that you’re all his

dumbification is so hot to him

“baby doll , darlin’ , sweet girl”

degrades you but in a soft way :,)

“look so pretty on my cock , whore”

“my sweet little slut , taking me so well”

spits in your mouth and holds your jaw until you swallow

loves to fuck your throat

literally uses your mouth as his personal fleshlight

hold your hair up for you bc he’s a gentleman

but would rather have it in pigtails

thrusts into your mouth hhhhhhhhhh

wants to see mascara tears and won't stop until he does

loves to give you facials

then takes 1476592837310982 pictures of you like that

his my eyes only on snap is 99% your face painted with his cum

honestly likes to cum anywhere he can see it

tits

backshots

on your stomach

l o v e s your thighs

and yall have absolutely done thigh jobs

would fuck you until you cried then marvel at the look of your tears

because you look so pretty when you’re entirely overwhelmed by pleasure

your face flushed a pretty pink 

eyes watering with crystal clear drops

then would make you cum again

“one more , sweet girl , you can take one more”

and you’d just nod , so deep into subspace that he words were like spells

how could you say no to him ?

aftercare KING though , would take such good care of you

would run you two a warm bath and carry you to the tub

bc lord knows you cant walk after him

and he’d run his hands allllll over your body , soothing any rough marks he may have left

at the end of the day he absolutely worships you

karl : 

karl jacobs , love of starlight’s life

i just think that he <3

karl has stated that he’s on the ace spectrum

so i think that sex with him wouldn’t be near as much about physicality

its about the intimacy and connection that comes with that for yall

and mans would make you feel so loved ,,,

he’d kiss every single inch of your body

and hold you so close to him as you two were getting undressed

loves kisses when yall are shirtless

because he can feel your heartbeat on his

and they sync up the longer u lay there

would go down on you for hours if he could holy fuck

he loves eating you out , drawing pretty moans from your lips

and is so good at it bye .

he can easily make you cum with just his skilled tongue

and fucks you with it i-

one of his favorite feelings in the world is your thighs tightening around his head

and your hands tugging at his hair as he makes you come undone over and over

you’re his favorite taste in the entire world

sex with karl would be sweet and soft and so so so intimate

it would be so loving

he’d have you look him in his eyes as he slid in

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnggngngnngngnngggggggg

and would stay buried deep inside you , not moving  until you adjusted to him

karl’s packing i just know it 

moans your name quite a lot

and murmurs how much he loves you , everything he loves about you inbetween thrusts

he’d hold your hands while you two made love

his grip tightening as he got closer

karl would make DAMN sure you came first

but loves cumming at the same time if you can hold off for him

the two of you would stay like that , chest to chest for a while after your highs

karl still tucked inside you

he’d love cockwarming dont @ me

is a fluffy mess after sex and always wants to fall asleep after

with you in his arms

quackity :

sex with alex >>>>>>

yes

please

he’d be . so fucking good . at everything he did .

alex loves foreplay

lapdances

bc he’s so obsessed with your body

and having you put on a show just for him ?

turns him on like nothing else in the world

lets you show off for as long as possible before he finally picks you up and throws you on the bed

hands hands hands

alex is so skilled with his fingers and knows how to hit all the best spots

has absolutely made you squirt on his fingers and is so cocky about it

has you hold eye contact while he eats you out

and the minute you break it , he stops

would have his dick in your mouth 24/7 if he could

and loves the way you look with your tongue swirling around him

keeps a hand on the back of your head and pushes down so gently

alex is definitely a soft dom

when he cant hold off from fucking you any longer he’s no stranger to tying your hands up

usually with his belt

fucks you in missionary with your legs over his shoulders

but also loves when you're on top

alex is a titty guy

such a boob guy

and absolutely covers your chest in hickeys and bite marks

getting to play with them while you ride him ?? heaven

once your hips give out from feeling so good , alex would lift you up and thrust into you

his fingertips digging into your skin , leaving pretty purple bruises

would play with your clit as he fucks up into you

“cum for me , princess”

loves cumming inside you

breeding kink

just saying

and watching it drip out of your pussy gets him hard all over again

his voice goes so deep while he moans

and calls you pretty names in spanish

vvvv vocal and loves when you match that

“show me how good im making you feel , baby”

[torifeelslikewritingagain]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Fred and you have never been sure of your feelings for one another.

Word Count: 7,823

Warnings: A bit of bad lenguage, and slow burn(?

A/N: This is the first thing I’ve written in 6-7 years, so let me know what y’all think, I’d appreciate it a lot:) Also, forgive any grammar mistakes, english isn’t my native lenguage, haha

GIF credit: @fgweasley​

Fred liked looking at you from afar.

He liked the way how you were different from all the other Slytherins even though you actually were like the rest of them.

Since your first year at Hogwarts, he’d taken a liking towards you. Of course at the beginning that liking was just friendly, he liked that he didn’t feel the need to punch you in the face, he’d never admit it tho, not even to George since they’d been taught to mistrust those in your house; but during that first year he’d always notice how you were the only Slytherin in the room who wouldn’t talk in class unless you were asked to by the teacher, he liked that you didn’t look at him or at George with despise. Of course, there were also times where the thought of you quietly and discretely planning a mass murder would cross his head, but you never gave a reason to worry that his suspicions were actually true.

Fast forward to your 3rd grade, after the winter break, he noticed in the platform how much your parents would actually show you their affection, that was also weird for the majority of the Slytherin kids he could recognize, and it wasn’t until that moment that George noticed him looking at you that he said:

“Oi, we’ve never pranked her, have we? Maybe we should pay more attention this year”

Fred felt terrible in that moment for having put you on George’s radar, he didn’t want to pull a prank on you, right? Although, to say the least, he was curious at how you’d react, after all, you weren’t insufferable like the most of your house, but you also weren’t the quiet mouse that you were during your first year, he’d seen you become more social, he’d notice how you would actively participate in Divination class asking Professor Trelawney real questions instead of mocking her like the rest of the students. He’d also see you talking to Abigail Rosier during dinner and often times he’d see you walking around the castle with her, so he concluded she must have been your best friend.

One night after dinner, when your fourth year was beginning,  he was sneaking away from Filch, until he overheard Malfoy yelling at someone:

“… keep defending them?”

“Because you insist on being a bloody cunt to them for no goddam reason!” It was the first time he had ever heard you say bad words, or even angry, you’d usually keep a neutral aura that was sometimes disrupted by your friends being funny or by him and George who had gotten a like to pull little harmless pranks on you. “They’re wizards too, Malfoy. Their blood status shouldn’t matter to you or anyone, that’s none of our business, they are just like us”

“Speak for yourself, I’m nothing like those blood-traitor weasels or that mudblood…”

“You’re right, the Granger girl is smarter than you could ever dream to be” In that moment he picked up what was happening, you, (y/n) Lafington, were defending his little brother and his friends, and you weren’t even friends. Were you? Did you think that them pranking you was being friends?

“My father will hear about this”

“Well, make sure to send him and your mother my love” He saw Malfoy starting to walk away “You’re children Malfoy, you don’t have to do this, leave them alone” He heard that last phrase with a smile on his face, now he could actually tell George that he liked you.

…

After the hallway incident, he rushed to tell George and Lee, who didn’t believe him; so he saw himself forced to subject to his brother the question if you were in fact, trash or not.

“Lafington?” Ron asked George back

“Isn’t she the girl who is always talking back to Malfoy?” Inquired Harry “You know, the one who is always around the chaser… eh.. Pucey!”

“Yeah! She is! I’ve talked to her in the library, we’re trying to convince McGonagall t…” At that point Fred had stopped listening, he was just happy to prove George and Lee that what he had seen was real, but he wasn’t so happy to hear that you were hanging around with someone as despicable as Adrian Pucey.

A few days later Fred noticed himself paying more attention to you, George did too.

“Just go talk to her”

“And say what? I was walking around the castle and decided to spy on you and Malfoy so now I want to say thank you for looking out for my brother and his friends when I couldn’t?”

“That’s not so bad, actually” George smirked, Fred felt immensely stupid, he couldn’t figure out what was it that he found so difficult about talking to you. “But if you’re not going to do anything, I guess that Adrian Pucey will” With that said, George walked away, making sure to bump into you, he apologized and smiled to you, as he kept walking, he turned to Fred to make sure he was watching, so he decided to seize the opportunity his twin created for him and approached you.

 ...

By the start of your fifth year, you had kind of developed a friendship. You liked the twins, you liked how at the end of last year they had sticked up for you when everyone turned against the Slytherins because of the Chamber of Secrets thing, you grieved the disappearance of their sister and celebrated when she was found, you liked how they didn’t take life too seriously and would always be there to make you smile.  

You liked how George would give you sweets when he had any on him, you also liked how much of a good listener he was, he was always there to hear you ramble about astrology, Slytherin’s gossip or a random book you had found at the library, out of the two of them, you were closer to him since Fred always seemed to have a weird face on when you were around, but it didn’t bother you that much, so you paid no mind.  You also liked how both of them didn’t make fun of you when you told them that you liked quidditch even though you didn’t know much about the teams, you liked playing it mostly, not watching.

Fred liked that about you too, so when you told the twins that Pucey was helping you train to try and join the Slytherin team that year, he felt his chest shrunk in relief, you weren’t flirting with Adrian, you were just being mates, after all, Slytherin is the most loyal house, and you all looked out for each other.  

You made your way into the team as a chaser, the twins were happy for you, and you were thriving! Quidditch had come sort of therapeutic for you, you loved the rush it brought when you were riding your broom so far from the ground, the sensation of danger when you knew that one the bludgers might hit you, you also loved the idea of getting out in an accepted way the rage that was always boiling inside of you.

Honestly, quidditch was the best thing that could have happened to you, it helped you to finally ditch what was left of your shell, as the season advanced everyone could notice how you were becoming more outspoken, more assertive, more popular; that didn’t mean that you were immune to the dementors watching around the castle, though. You just felt the need to express everything you were feeling, whether it was good or bad. And having those creatures around did affect you, despite to what everyone might have thought, you could be spotted arguing with Malfoy more often, you wouldn’t wait to keep things in the Slytherin common room anymore, you would just explode at any given moment. Professor McGonagall was worried about you, you’d always been one of her favorite students in your year, Snape on the other hand, was watching your character development rather amused, he told McGonagall that it was just matter of time that you actually started behaving like a real Slytherin, to what she refused to believe that he was right, so she decided to take the matters into her own hands.

“Professor, I swear on Merlin’s beard that we haven’t done anything punish-worthy in the last three days” Fred said while he and George sit at Professor McGonagall’s desk.

“Yeah, whatever happened to Filch has nothing to do with us this time” The professor looked at George in confusion to whatever it was that they had done this time, she hadn’t called them in for any of that matters.

“Mr. Weasley” she started “I actually called you and your brother for a different reason this time, although I would very much like to know what you did this time in order to automatically be defending yourselves. I wanted to speak to you about Miss Lafington”

“(Y/n)?” Asked Fred

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. I’ve noticed that you are rather close to her, and well, since she is one of my best students, I feel a little bit concerned about her attitude and mood lately”

This year you didn’t share your favorite classes with Gryffindor, which meant that the twins would often see the more reserved version of you in the classroom when the topic wasn’t of your particular interest, so Fred started to worry a little when Professor McGonagall said that; where you skipping class? Were you failing? He and George sat there in silence.

“Nothing unfixable, I want to assume, so I ask you both to remove that awful look from your faces. My guess is that the presence of the dementors, those terrible creatures, has been affecting your friend, as you may notice, a good portion of your classmates. So, as your head of house, I’m asking you to keep an eye on your friend and one of my dearest students”

“So, you want us to prank her more often” George asked with a smirk on his face.

“Mr. Weasley, please, be serious. I’m asking you to not let these things affect that girl more than they should. I’ve noticed that quidditch has become and outlet for her but it can only last so long, so maybe try getting her out of the dungeons and the aura that surrounds her house for a little bit. Distract her, put some positive thought in her head”

“I understand, Professor” Fred nodded, he felt that McGonagall was overreacting a bit, you all were growing and asserting your characters after all, but he did notice you a little more irritable than usual. “Count on us”

“Good” She concluded “Now, go to class” The twins went for the door and just when they were about to close it “And know that you both have detention today for whatever you did to Mr Filch”

…

Fred had no idea how to approach you without spilling the conversation he had with Professor McGonagall, so he let George do the wonder while he just kept looking at you from afar as he always had. He didn’t know why, but every day he looked at you, he swore that you looked better than the day before, sure, you had eye bags and looked tired from all the training, but he found you mesmerizing even when you had your hair up in a bun that looked like a bird’s nest. And he could notice all the boys were noticing you, too, now he didn’t only have to worry about Adrian Pucey, no, now he’d also had Lee, who found you extremely badass, Cedric Diggory, who was on the Hufflepuff team and had been asking about you to some of the younger Gryffindor girls, knowing that Fred & George would talk about you in the common room, even Oliver had taken an interest towards you because of how you played; the quidditch boys in general,  he didn’t worry about Marcus Flint, though, he knew that he was too ugly for you.

So he kept his distance, as a friend could, of course. You’d hang out with him and George more often as Fred tried to sort out his feelings for you. Was he still just curious about you? Or had he actually started developing something more than platonic? He knew that you were amazing, and he was glad that people had finally noticed you, but he’d also feel bummed out by that sometimes, he felt that one day you might stop talking to him and George. He worried about what you thought of him, mostly, because he knew that he wasn’t as good friend to you as George was, but it was because he didn’t want you to look at him just as a friend, did he?

Meanwhile, you were enjoying the extra time with the twins, by the end of the school year you had even helped them come up with some ideas for the joke products that they had started designing, you still liked having them around among most of the new people in your life. You felt infuriated when you didn’t win the house cup, Fred reassured you that your game was good, it just was Wood’s last season and no one loved quidditch more than he did. So one week before going on summer holidays, they asked you if you wanted to come to the Quidditch Cup with them and their family, you weren’t sure, so you said that you missed your parents and went home.

During the summer you wrote to both of them, and Fred insisted that you joined them on their trip, but you didn’t want to be a bother, what if you didn’t fit it? What if their parents didn’t like you? What if all of their family hated you because you were a Slytherin? They assured you that you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, that their mum would love you and their dad would, too.

On the other hand, you were nervous about even asking your own parents, they didn’t hate the Weasleys or any other “blood traitors” in particular, they didn’t care about those things, but they hated drama, that’s why they would keep low profiles and had taught you to do the same. You hanging out with the Weasleys at school? No problem, teens could always be spreading rumors, but you knew that showing up with them at an event like the Quidditch World Cup would be interpreted as an statement, and you knew how delicate things were getting politically, so you obviously felt uneased to say the least, you loved your parents, and you knew the values that they had taught you, but you also were aware of the kind of world were you grew up in, a world where people like the Malfoys would find themselves trying to be pleased by everyone out of fear.

You didn’t respond to the twins for three weeks while you meditated your next move, you were dying to see them, but was that urge stronger than your loyalty to your family?

…

Turns out your mom had seen you so down that she decided to go around your stuff and found the twins’ letters. When you came home from spending a few days with Abby she welcomed you with the letters in hand at the tea room. “Well, that’s it. It was fun while it lasted” You thought to yourself, but much to your surprise your mother encouraged you to go with them.

“There was only one boy who wrote to me like this, and that boy grew to be the man I married and turned into your dad. -Pay no mind to the blood status- I believe that’s what your father and I have taught you” She said taking her tea cup in hand.

You didn’t know why she was acting like this; they had also taught you to avoid big conflicts, yet, here you were. “Sorry mom, I don’t think I follow”

“Do you know why you feel like standing up to Lucius’ son? Because it is in your blood. During my time at Hogwarts I was friends with some muggleborns, but unlike you, I let myself get carried away by my house peers, don’t make the same mistake, much less when it’s about love” You remained silent after she spoke, you didn’t know where did she get this idea that you loved Fred, because she was talking about Fred, right? He was the one who wrote to you more constantly. “I’ll talk to your father; we’ll discuss it over supper”

Confused was short for how you felt. But at least you’d get to spend some time with some of your best friends, so that night you wrote to Fred that you were, in fact, joining them in a few weeks. You felt your stomach sink the moment your owl left. What if him and George now hated you? What if they thought that you not responding for weeks meant putting an end to your friendship? As these questions wondered your brain, the doubt of why your mom started talking about love came, too. Cause she was talking about Fred, wasn’t she? Why was Fred the one who came to your mind for this matter? Maybe she was talking about George, you were closer to him, essentially. But it was the mystery that drove you back to Fred, because sure, you were friends, but he had that face when you were around, and you also felt that there was this barrier, not in a hostile way, but as an aura of, well, mystery. You knew that he was the one to like you first, George had told you that story about the hallway and you defending Ron, and how Fred basically ran to tell him, yet, you always seemed to feel it odd since Fred was a little distant. At first you thought it was just his personality, you had thought “maybe George is warmer” but you’d often see him hang out with other girls, too. He’d hug Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, just like George would, but he wouldn’t even let his arm brush yours unless George had started play-fighting and he had to intervene, so you just had thought that maybe he liked you, but he didn’t quite trust you. Until now.

What if your mother was right? What if Fred liked more as more than a friend? You couldn’t even begin to make sense to that idea, you had seen Fred around other girls, he was a master at flirting, he’d swoon them over. The thought of him fancying you didn’t add up to how he treated you, did it? You refused to give your heart false hopes and dismissed those thoughts quickly, you just went to sleep happy to create memories with your friends.

…

On the other hand, Fred thought that he would spend the most amazing time with you during these holidays, he had even started talking to George about his feelings for you trying to figure them out, but then his father told him that his friend, Amos Diggory and his son would also join the group, at least for the trip, and he felt like cursing the entire world. How could he define what he felt for you when Pretty Boy Diggory would be around? George knew, that Lee knew, that Tori knew because Annabelle had told her, that Cedric was interested in you, he was curious, too. The difference was that Diggory knew that he could charm anyone he wanted, he just had to play his cards right, while Fred couldn’t even begin to admit that he wanted to play his cards too.

You arrived at The Burrow a few days before the Cup, you got to spend time with the Weasleys and even Harry and Hermione, you knew Hermione from your late night study sessions at the library, but you had never actually had a conversation for Harry, you found him rather plain, not in demeaning way, but you could see that this boy had barely an idea of what he represented, he was just like any other boy his age. Molly loved you, even when you found hard to call her that instead of -Mrs. Weasley-, and Ginny liked you too, she liked having another girl who liked quidditch around to play, she was good, you bonded over the game. And she was kind enough to tell you that everyone noticed the small tension that was going on between you and Fred. At first you thought that she was just messing with you, after all, she was the sister of Hogwarts´ most prolific pranksters, but then one night Hermione joined the girl talk, luckily, the subject changed to Ginny’s crush on Harry, but you were left wondering, if people were repeating what your mother said, it might as well be truth, right?

You spent that night thinking about Fred, you liked how he snorted while laughing after a prank he had been planning for long turned out brilliantly, you liked how he would talk you out of pulling an all-nighter to study so you could go wander the castle with him and George. You liked how he would look out for you during the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin matches, much to Oliver’s dismay…

You loved how competitive he was. You loved how before each game he’d tried to place a bet, whether you both were playing or not. You loved how you two would exchange challenging looks from one side to the other of the field. You loved how defensive he got when it came to someone offending you or talking trash to your back. You fell asleep while thinking in all of the things that you loved about this boy, maybe you did have a crush on him…

The next day everyone was super excited, it was the game day, so you all got your bags and started walking into the forest. You were walking with a twin on each side when you saw a man with glasses come up to Arthur and greeted him. You heard Fred sigh and murmur something beneath his breath, but whatever he said was eclipsed by George saying “Now, the fun begins” with a huge devious smile on his face, you didn’t get it. Was this man someone that Arthur didn’t like that much? Were they work frenemies? Then your thoughts were interrupted by something falling from a tree, a someone, actually. Next to the man talking to Arthur was now standing the Hufflepuff’s team captain, Hogwarts’ golden boy: Cedric Diggory. You turned around for a brief second to look at Ginny and Hermione, who you could already see were starting to get a little face-heated from just looking at the boy, you didn’t blame them, every girl at school had a crush on him, and you weren’t the exception, you just were more discrete when it came to showing an opinion, plus you hadn’t been officially introduced to him, sure, you had played against him, but you had never crossed a word, so you felt that showing even the slightest hint of heart eyes for him was inappropriate, plus, now you had come to terms that you liked Fred more than just a friend, right?

He quickly noticed that you were all standing there looking at him so he came up to say hi.

“(Y/N), this is Hufflepuff’s team captain: Cedric Diggory; Cedric, this is (y/N) Lafington, Slytherin’s newest chaser” George introduced you after greeting him.

“Yes, I know exactly who she is” Cedric shook your hand firmly while he answered to George. Fred was silent. “You were the talk of all teams last year, how come no one had noticed you before?”

-Well, I noticed her since our first week at school, thank you-Fred thought to himself.

“I just…” You smiled at Diggory while shrugging your shoulders “I guess I wasn’t that interested in sports before, I’m more of a library mouse, actually”

“Oh, okay, so you’re smart, too. I get it. I like that” Oh Merlin, you liked Fred, but so did you liked having the most eligible man at school looking at you in the way he was.

George was having a blast mentally, he knew Fred was bloody pissed, but he thought that this was for his own good, Fred had to realize that you wouldn’t wait for him forever, so mayyyybe George actually had encouraged Diggory to hit on you. He felt like he was doing his best work as a best friend and as a brother.

During the rest of the walk, Cedric joined you and the twins, you all chatted a bit about school, and when you arrived at the game you went to the girl’s tent. Hermione and Ginny were craving details about Diggory, but you really didn’t have much to give them. Later, when you went looking for the twins, you didn’t find them, Cedric found you, though. You decided to take a walk around with him, while you were talking you got to know him a little better, he was a good guy; you picked up that the flirty smiles and eyes between you two were just denial when he mentioned Cho Chang, Ravenclaw’s seeker. This boy didn’t want to admit that his playboy days were over, you thought that was funny. Yeah, you still had a crush on him, but you realized that it was a platonic thing, you liked Cedric, as a friend.

After placing a bet with Ludo Bagman, Fred had gone back looking for you, when he saw you laughing along with Diggory he felt his stomach shrink and the bile rising through his chest to his throat, maybe Angelina was right, maybe you knew that he liked you but you just chose to ignore him, but he also George’s voice came to his head in your defense, how could you even begin to imagine what he felt for you when he could barely look you in the eye? Those beautiful (y/e/c) eyes. He took a deep breath and approached you, telling you that it was time to go to your seats, you said goodbye to Cedric and followed Fred.

“So…” You started while trying to keep with him “I was hoping that you could tell me a little bit about the teams that will be playing tonight…”

“Didn’t Diggory tell you any of that? Or was he just trying to get in your pants?” You stood completely frozen at what he had just said, Fred had never said anything mean to you, in fact, he’d go after anyone who mistreated you.

“Excuse me?” Was the one thing that you managed to express. Fred turned back to look at you and he crumbled a little on the inside when he saw the hurt in your eyes, the shock, he thought how cute you looked with your eyebrows furrowed like that, but he quickly realized that he had fucked up.

“Oh… I-…” He didn’t know how to apologize; he wasn’t used to get carried away by his emotions in that way. You didn’t say anything, you stood there maintaining eye contact, you were waiting for a proper apology. “Look, I’m sorry, that came out in a completely wrong way” He waited for a response but you gave him nothing “Fine” he sighed and walked over closer to you “I’m sorry, I really am” Nothing. “Hey, Lafts, I’m now begging for your forgiveness” He used your nickname, which you felt relaxed your forehead. “Pleeeaaaase…” In that moment you felt him taking your hand and putting to his mouth to kiss it while giving you puppy eyes.

“Okay, I accept your apology” You said with a small smile in return, and taking your hand away from his. “But what in hell has gotten into you?” You asked as you started walking again.

“I just don’t like that he thinks that he can have you that easily, I don’t want you to get hurt by one of the most famous playboys at school. That’s it” Fred knew that he had to be cautious about what he said, he didn’t want to sound like a complete lunatic, but he also didn’t want to confess his feelings for you in the middle of the scenario that you were standing right now in.

You also didn’t want to keep going with this fight, so you accepted his excuse and kept going, even though on the inside you were still upset about him talking to you that way. When you arrived at your seats you placed yourself between Ginny and George, avoiding Fred. George resumed the season to you before the game started, you saw Draco and his dad, who offered you joining them in the box, but you refused politely with a simple “Thank you Mr. Malfoy, but I’ll stay with my friends for this once” which made everyone look at you with inquire, you explained that Lucius Malfoy was one of your father’s oldest business partners, so it was better to keep things light with him, Draco was different story; that last part relaxed the tension and made everyone laughed.

During the game you could occasionally feel Fred’s gaze on you, you’d sometimes look back, letting him know that you weren’t angry, but still you didn’t want to engage a conversation with him yet.

You had a good time, even though you still liked playing better than just watching, the twins and Ginny were really happy that Ireland had won. After you exited the stadium Arthur told everyone that you’d have dinner an hour later, so you returned calmly to the tents, while you were walking you started hearing people screaming and some even running, you looked at the twins but they were just as confused as you.

“Spread!” Arthur yelled at you “Spread! Hide! Fred, George, watch your sister” at a not so long distance you could see people with some weird masks marching forward and destroying the tents around, then it hit you.

“Death Eathers” you barely mumbled. You turned to see Harry, Ron and Hermione already running “Go” you said firmly now to the twins, you pushed them and Ginny in the opposite direction where the Death Eaters came. “Go. They won’t hurt me. At least I think so, go, hide, protect Ginny” George nodded and took Ginny by the hand, the started walking.

“Oi!” Fred called them, but they didn’t listen, he turned to you, and grabbed you by the arm “I’m not leaving you here, let’s go”

“No, Fred. You’re a blood traitor” you got rid of his grip

“So are you!”

“Yes, but my family never talks about this publicly, no one knows. I won’t put them at risk” You knew that the words were hurting him, but he knew that it was truth, your parents’ business depended on them remaining neutral, no one really knew about your family’s blood status views unless they were close to you. “Look, Fred” You could hear the chaos closer and closer “You know I love you guys, and you know I value your friendship, but right now I really need you to go and look for George and Ginny, I can take care of myself” Just like he did with you a few hours earlier, you could see the hurt in his eyes, you knew your mother liked him from the letters, but you couldn’t bare the idea of putting her in danger for a simple crush. “I promise I’ll look for you guys when this is over, I’ll go help your dad” You kissed his hand and pushed him away “GO!”

You barely could see him running away because you turned around and started casting transfiguration spells on yourself, if you were getting into this fight, you’d make sure that no one behind those masks could recognize you.

When the dark mark was casted onto the sky, the Death Eaters started vanishing, everyone remained shook, when you made sure that none remained there, you started waking back to the party’s tent, there you returned your appearance back to normal, when you came out you saw Arthur returning, he recognized the clothes you were wearing and hugged you. “Thank you” he said as soon as you broke apart, you put your hand on top of his on your shoulder “No problem, Mr. Weasley. I just wish I could have done it without wasting time putting a costume on”

“You helped innocent people, and that should be enough” He gave you and honest smile and went inside the tent. Later when everyone had returned, you all returned to The Burrow, where you all were warmly welcomed by a worried Molly Weasley, who had heard everything from the news.

“Oh, dear, I assume your parents must be worried about you, you should write to them” She said to you as soon as she had the chance, and you agreed, so you thought that the best was to return home the next day.

…

Your parents weren’t that worried about you, actually, they knew that you were a fighter, but they did look worried about how thing would start changing from here on in, you told them that you made yourself unrecognizable when the Death Eaters showed up, which your father thanked you.

Over the next few weeks you wrote to the twins and your other friends, you even exchanged letters with Cedric Diggory (to whom George had felt the freedom to give your address) You just wanted to go back to Hogwarts and get away from all of the political problems going on, you wanted to go back to normal, where you could actually be you and give zero shits about blood status, you couldn’t wait enough for your 17th birthday, the day your freedom would came; if you were seventeen your parents would get excluded from all of your personal decisions. But for now, you could just keep on dreaming.

During the first week of class of your sixth year, you looked for the twins, they greeted you with the warmest of hugs, especially Fred (which surprised you) and you offered them an apology for bringing up the blood thing the day of the game, they were really understanding.

“Don’t worry, dad was amazed at how feisty you turned out to be, he didn’t see it coming, he snitched on you with us” George words made you giggle “Changing your looks to kick ass? That’s clever”

“Yeah, maybe you could help us perfect those spells so Snape and Filch can’t know who came for them” Fred added with a wink.

That same week you learned that this year you wouldn’t have quidditch because Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, those were terrible news for you, but still, you felt excited about having exchange students over, and the twins had the idea that you could still play quidditch on your free time during the weekends, it wouldn’t be the same, but you were okay with it.

Fred wouldn’t admit it, but he really wanted you to accept the idea of weekend quidditch, because that was the first step on his plan to conquer you. When he heard his dad speaking so highly of you, he was certain that he was totally in love with you, the fear of losing you that he felt the day before, the way he reacted when he saw that Cedric could make you laugh too; the way his tummy felt when you kissed his hand, the way he suffered every minute while he hid knowing nothing of you and dreading the worst, he scolded himself mentally for letting you go, he should’ve gone with you, he shouldn’t have left you alone in a situation like that; All of that made  sudden sense to him while his father kept telling the story, he didn’t just have a crush on you, he wasn´t just curious, he was head over heels in love with you. So he asked for Charlie’s advice, and he designed a plan to ask you out  s u a v e m e n t e, the original plan involved hanging out after quidditch practice, so when quidditch got cancelled he had to improvise. He also had an advantage this year, you guys shared Potions class, which Fred knew was one of your favorites, so he would be able to talk to you during class because of Snape’s favoritisms towards Slytherins.

The weeks passed and you started noticing how George would always disappear when the tree of you were supposed to hang out, leaving you alone with Fred, you didn’t mind, you loved the way his red hair would look at night with the dim lights of the castle at night, and he loved the way your eyes lit up when you looked at the stars. Truth is that you two were getting closer, closer than friends, none of you said a thing about it, but you both could feel the connection growing. When the Yule Ball was announced you were sure that Fred would ask you to be his date, so you and Abby went dress shopping, she really didn’t like the idea of you getting with a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley, but she was happy that you had someone just like she had her Durmstrang student.

When you got to the shop Hogsmead and started looking at the fabrics, you noticed that other girls were already there, between them you could notice the girls of Gryffindor’s quidditch team, you paid no mind to them nor to their whispers and dirty looks. Abby went away for a moment to try on a dress that she liked, when she came back she had an annoyed look on her face.

“You didn’t like it?” You thought it was the dress “You know that’s just the sample one, they can make it for you in a different color”

“It’s not that” she said, putting the dress back “I liked the dress”

“Then why the face?”

“Look” she started “I know that you like the Weasley boy, much to the house’s dismay, and I’m trying (y/n), I’m really trying to keep my nose out of this because I like seeing you happy” she paused for a second before going, you could see that her mind was working trying to say something.

“Abby, it’s okay, I can take it” What could it be? Had he gotten in a fight with Adrian again?

“When I was in the changing room I could hear Angelina Jhonson talking about how excited she was to be attending the ball with Frederick”

“Well, that’s a shame for her, he’s going to ask me”

“That’s the thing Lafts, he asked her already, not you, her.” You could see that Abby was trying to hold it together, she was quite protective of you, but you did recognize that she was trying to not hate Fred. “I know it sounds terrible and I don’t know, maybe those twits are tryin’ to play mind games on us, but you should definitely check that out; I don’t want this night that we’ll probably remember forever to be ruined for you by some stupid scumsucker”

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, you were certain that Abigail wasn’t fond of the twins, but you also knew that she just wouldn’t lie about it, so when she had her order on her dress made, you two returned to the castle.

That night at dinner you had a hard time spotting Fred at the Great Hall, you also had a hard time spotting him anywhere in the castle, when you went to George for answers he responded with a simple “Love you both, I’ve done plenty trying to help Fred. I’m not getting in the middle of this mess” And walked away, which left you feeling even more confused and angry than before, why were they shutting you down? You wrote to your mom to know if anything big had happened outside the school, but she said nothing had really came up. You were left with nothing, the next few days George made sure to let you know that he was still there for you, but he drew the line when it came to talking about Fred. Something inside of you said “See? You were right, Fred didn’t really like you, it was all in your head; if not, then how come only George is here now?” And you didn’t want to give this voice the reason, but it was the only thing in your mind. 

The days passed and the ball came, you ended up attending it with Adrian, after all, you and him were really good friends. You were having a great time with your friends, you even danced a piece with Cedric, then George came to you, too. Fred remained far away, you could see him on the dance floor with Angelina, as Abby said; you felt your heart break a little more every time you looked at him, you were angry at him, but you were also angry at yourself, how could you had let yourself think for a minute that someone like him could fall in love with you? You were opposites, and everyone knew it, and everyone made sure you were reminded of it at all times. A slow song came on and Adrian said to you that he would try to dance with some girl from Beauxbatons, so you went to sit down for a bit. You watched all the couples dancing with a bit of longing, you saw that Ginny was there with a boy and you felt your heart melt for a moment, not everyone was having a rough night.

“Not having fun?” You heard George’s voice behind you.

“Eh” you shrugged your shoulders “I’ve been better” you turned your head to look at him.

“Well” He hunched over to be at your level “I see Pucey dancing with someone and my date blew me off too, wanna go wreck someone’s make out session?” That last part with wiggling eyebrows. He made you chuckle.

“Fine” You said rolling your eyes. You took your clutch and followed him through the hallways, you walked quietly, trying to spot any couple to scare. Suddenly George came to a stop in front of a door. You looked at him with questioning eyes, he nodded, letting you know that there was someone in there.

“You go first” He whispered. You smiled, excited. You got your wand ready. When George opened the door, you pointed your wand but before you could say anything you were surprised by Fred Weasley standing in front of you. Well, he was actually pacing, but still, he was in front of you. You turned to George.

“I thought you said t-“

“I know what I said” He cut you off. “But I’m doing this for you, not for him” He looked at both of you before closing the door and leaving you there.

You stood there in silence for a couple of minutes, you didn’t even want to look at him, you were hurt.

“So, I saw you dancing with Diggory…”Fred finally broke the silence.

“Really? Are you seriously bringing that up?” You decided to look at him and when your eyes met you felt the world freeze. You stared at each other. Fred had been watching you from afar, too. But now that he had you close, he was taken out of breath of how good you looked. The way your dress made your skin pop, the way your eyes were glowing thanks to the make-up, he could also see the lip gloss that you had been reapplying all night.

“Fred?” Your voice brought him back from his mind. “You know what? I don’t even know why I decided to stay, I should’ve left with George” You headed for the door but he quickly got up and stood before you.

“No. You know why” You got chills, you didn’t know if they came from the cold of the classroom you where standing in or from the look in his eyes. He took off his jacket and tried to covered you with it.

“No” You said stepping back and putting your hand in front of you. “You don’t get to play prince charming with me, not after you ignored me for a month… Why did you do it..?”

Fred didn’t know what to say, he knew that the moment to confess his feelings to you had arrived, but he felt too dumb to say something.

“You know Fred? If you didn’t like me you could’ve just been straight forward about it.” You started talking trying to keep your voice neutral. “You didn’t have to pretend to be my friend all these years, the worst part of it is that these last few months I felt like something beyond a friendship was growing between us” That was it, you gulped, your voice broke “You didn’t have to make me fall in love with you and then break my heart” Fred rose his head. You crossed your arms over your chest trying to keep all your feelings in.

“Wait a second, love, rewind a little bit there” He was in shock, he walked towards you. “You’re in love with me?” You could hear the surprise in his voice. Was he now laughing at you?

“You’re impossible, Weasley” You headed for the door again, but Fred grabbed your arm and pulled you to him. “Let m-“ You felt his lips crash on yours, shutting you up. You responded to his kiss, you could sense desperation in it.

“I’ve liked you since our first year” He said when you finally broke away “I’ve always felt keen on you. I love you. I shut you out because I was too scared of my own feelings, I’ve never felt this way for anyone else. I figured out that if I just cutyou off, all the feelings would go away, but they didn’t.” You looked at him mouth-opened, not knowing what to say, you both had been feeling this way but you were too scared to admit it.

“You’re an idiot” You finally managed to say. He kissed you again.

“Yes, I am, I am the biggest idiot ever” Kiss “but please say you won’t pay mind to the all the bloody talking and you’ll be my official girlfriend” He pecked you on the lips again.

“Yes, yes, okay” You laughed.

You stood there for a while, laughing at how obnoxious you both had been the last few years. You were in love with Fred, and Fred was in love with you. You weren’t waiting for you 17th birthday anymore, you were making up for all the lost time, everyone else could go to hell.

[acciofanfics]

Spell It Out (Oliver Wood x Reader)

Request: could you do an oliver wood x female reader where they’re like friends and she’s really little (like thin and short and she’s insecure abt it by the thinks it’s cute) so he’s like kinda protective over her but she’s oblivious and idk maybe like he gets jealous or something (?) idk u can make the plot but they get together in the end and maybe it’s a lil steamy (?) thanks sm!!! i love ur writing 🥺

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavily implied smut and maybe language? I’ll say language to be safe.

Word Count: 1652

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted! I really struggled with thinking I wrote Oliver too OOC. That being said... I apologize if this is too OOC >.< As always here’s a reminder that requests are still open! - S 

__________________________________________

Oliver Wood took quidditch quite serious, and would never fault anyone else for doing so. His chest swelled with pride when he found his team already on the pitch practicing, before their scheduled time. Maybe it was that they’d be playing Slytherin next week that had them finally taking the game as seriously as he did (they were Gryffindor’s biggest rival). His chest deflated when he saw (Y/N) playing keeper. How could they let her play?!

It wasn’t that he didn’t like (Y/N), they were good friends. Fred and George often said it was quite obvious he fancied her. Maybe, that’s why he had such a problem with it, quidditch could be a dangerous game! Of course it wasn’t against the rules for students not on the quidditch team to play around on the pitch and fly, but it should’ve been... at least for her. His first game on the team he took a Bludger to the head 2 minutes in and was out for a week!

Oliver found himself just watching for a bit; annoyed but distracted, he was fond of her smile and the wind catching her hair. Well, he was fond of it until Fred was hovering beside her, both laughing as her smile grew. Oliver couldn’t hear what they were saying so he had to make it up in his head and he was irritated that Fred had the nerve to suggest such. Oliver was quite glad he heard George yell and break his trance, “MUM’S HERE NO MORE FUN AND GAMES!”

Oliver tried to seem normal, as they all settled down and got ready for practice. He brushed off a friendly greeting from (Y/N) and tried to ignore the thoughts of her all together while she put the broom away. It wasn’t going to be the easiest task, given the fact that she usually settled in the stands to watch them practice.

It was a brutal practice... he had the tendency to do that: take out his frustrations on the pitch. It was pretty obvious that he was having an off day, but the team knew it was best to just suffer through it and hope next practice he would be in a better mood. Poor Fred seemed to get the brunt of the abuse.

(Y/N) was a bit concerned. It’d been awhile since she’d seen Oliver work himself and them this hard and that was after a particularly hard run in with Marcus Flint. (Y/N) just worked on her potions homework and waited for practice to end. It ran longer than usual, and her worry only grew when she didn’t see Oliver exit the locker room with the rest of the guys. She waited a few minutes before deciding to just walk right in.

“Oliver, you still in here?”

Oliver’s eyes widened at her intrusion, he’d just gotten out of the showers and wore only a towel around his waist, “Bloody hell, (Y/N)! Just barge right on in, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes at his tone. “What’s wrong with you today?”

He thought about responding with a simple: nothing, but they knew each other too well for that. It wouldn’t work. “Why were you out there playing today?”

“Is that what you’re mad about? We were just messing around, practice hadn’t even started yet. It was just a warm up.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have been warming up with them.” Oliver approached her and as he sized her up, he really didn’t feel like he was being silly. She stood a good head or two (maybe three) shorter than him, and all around the girl was just tiny. A good gust of wind could’ve knocked her right off that broom, “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

(Y/N) was used to this, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. She wasn’t a child, even though everyone seemed to think she was. It was rather disheartening actually to be treated like this by him... she wondered if she was a bit taller and a little more filled out if this was the conversation they’d be having while he stood before her basically naked. “Oh, sorry. I thought something was actually wrong, I wouldn’t have bothered had I known you were just being a git. It’s not different than you playing! You could get hurt, in fact out of the 2 of us you’re the one with more quidditch related injuries.”

Oliver ignored her, they wouldn’t reach an agreement on the subject anyhow. He decided to go in on something else bothering him, “What are you doing here anyways? I figured you’d be back in the common room with Fred or whatever.”

Fred? He was two years younger than her (granted you definitely wouldn’t realize that by looking at them) and sure he flirted with her. It was Fred, he was flirty and goofy. It was the boy’s personality and had nothing to do with anything. “Honestly, Oliver you are too much sometimes! You’re going to act like I’m a child and then turn around and act jealous in the same breath?”

Did she really think he viewed her as a child? That wasn’t it at all. Maybe he needed to get over himself and finally come clean. “I don’t look at you like you’re a kid... and you call me thick.”

“Okay,” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue, “You act like I can’t do anything for myself, you’re mean to any guy that pays me any mind, you hardly let me carry my books for myself!”

“And there’s no other explanation for that?” Oliver’s eyes widened in disbelief when she didn’t speak up. He’d called her thick as a joke, but maybe... “Oi! Just make me spell it out, why don’t you? I fancy you, (Y/N)!”

Oliver Wood just confessed attraction to her. Was it some sort of joke? (Y/N) obviously had a crush on him, plenty of girls in their year did. She felt a little silly for being so oblivious, but most guys adopted her as a little sister of sorts. She’d had a few boyfriends here and there, but it wasn’t like they were lining up for her. And there she stood shocked and confused, “If this is a joke it’s not very funny.”

Oliver chuckled at the girl, she was still there so that must’ve been a good sign. “I’m not joking.”

“Why would fancy me? You guys said I looked like a first year yesterday.” She crossed her arms. Of course she wanted Oliver to like her, but something didn’t seem to add up.

“That one was a joke! And I didn’t say anything I just laughed,” He defended himself, but he supposed that didn’t make him sound much better. “I like your size... I think it’s cute.”

Honestly, (Y/N) had grown tired of being called ‘cute’, but she didn’t mind it that much when he said it. There was only one logical response to this in her mind (although there probably were a few more ways in all actuality). She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to one of the benches where she promptly stood on top of one. Oliver smiled a bit, catching onto her plan, "You know you could've just asked me and I would-"

(Y/N) cut him off, he was being annoying anyhow. Her lips crashed against his and Oliver immediately a wave of relief crash over him. The doubt that had still lingered in his mind was long gone and all that he could focus on was what happening. He'd held the desire to kiss the girl in front of him for so long and now that he could feel her lips against his, he didn't want to feel anything else.

(Y/N) placed her hands on his chest, firm and still damp (up until that moment she'd somehow forgotten about the lack of clothing he was wearing). She knew this was highly inapproptiate and if McGonagall had any idea what her two students were currently up to she'd have their heads.... or at least a month of detention and quite a few house points. Call it teenage rebellion or maybe just lust, but it only fueled the desire to keep going. Oliver felt the same and pulled her flush against him, his hands felt so large against her clothed body that she shuddered to think what they might feel like against her skin.

For a first kiss, it was quite efficient, their mouths moved in tandom like they like dance partners that had been working together for years. Before she even really aware of what she was doing, (Y/N) found herself shedding her clothes (Oliver helping her out), it wasn't long at all before she'd practically caught up with the boy. She stood before him in nothing but her knickers, and perhaps she might've felt a little embarrassed baring herself in front of one of her closest friends, but Oliver didn't give her much of chance to even think those silly thoughts before his hands and lips were exploring her body.

How they’d gone all this time without each other seemed like a mystery that couldn’t be solved at the moment. Oliver lifted her up, a task easily accomplished given her stature and his training, and instinctively (Y/N) wrapped herself around searching for stability that she easily found. She arched herself into him involuntarily when her back hit the cold wall; the action earning a groan from Oliver.

Fred and George waited and watched from behind the stands. When (Y/N) and Oliver both exited the locker room hand in hand and foolish grins on their faces, their faces lit up. Oh the material they’d have to torment them! Honestly they hoped the couple wouldn’t even bother trying to deny it, they didn’t seem to bother trying to cover it up, or at least the twins assumed by the state of their hair. “Georgie, you owe me a galleon!”

[imaginingmultifandom]

Comfort (Part 5)

George Weasley x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco reveals the reason why he broke up with you, and it leaves you in shock. You feel guilty about falling back into George’s arms for comfort once more, especially because it seems like something between the two of you has changed. 

Words: 3587

A/N: You can find the other parts of ‘Comfort’ here: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

This is the last part of ‘Comfort’, and I hope you’ll enjoy it! I honestly hadn’t planned for this to become a series, but it felt right to do it this way. If anyone wants to leave some feedback, it would be greatly appreciated <3

"Because that's why I broke up with you in the first place," Draco's words left his mouth sooner than he had liked them to, and he desperately wished he could take them back as soons as  he saw the crushed look in your eyes.

"What do you even mean by that?" Your voice sounded defeated as you tried to make sense of what your ex-boyfriend had just said. You just couldn't understand, couldn't react.

Draco remained silent, feeling as if he had already said too much. Maybe he had, but that didn't stop you from wanting him to explain.

"What do you mean?" You emphasized each word, needing to just hear him say it.

"I just thought-" He stumbled over his words, "I just thought that you would always prefer him over me. I didn't want to regret opening up to you, when you would just end up leaving me for him anyway.."

"You could have just talked to me about that, Draco. Could have told me about those feelings and doubts," You objected with a hard voice, rubbing your temples while you were attempting to reorganize your thoughts, "I never had any intent to leave you for him,"

"And I know that now," Draco interrupted again, his words hasty in an attempt to explain and get you back on his side, "So I thought maybe we could try again, now that I'm sure,"

"What the hell," You only managed to exclaim at first, purely shocked by what he had just proposed. "So this all-" You scoffed loudly, taking in all at once what had been his reasoning all along, "This all was some sort of fucked-up test to you? Seeing if I'd go running to George once you broke up with me as some way of finding out whether I'm trustworthy? And then you'd come in and just swoop me up again?"

"No, I don't know, maybe," Draco stuttered, and with that, you had your answer.

"I honestly don't know what to say. You're just such an arsehole, Malfoy." Your tone was stone-cold, even though the anger bubbling inside your body made your face feel hot.

You couldn't believe that all along you wanted to know his reason behind leaving you, and now that you had it, it was worse than anything you could have possibly thought up in your mind in these last two months.

"Y/N, please." Draco pleaded, stepping further towards you and extending his hand towards yours.

"Don't," You glared at him, and his hand fell to his side again. His eyes looked darker than ever, and you spotted a single tear rolling down his left cheek. And the worst thing was, you couldn't even pity him in that moment. Instead, you just felt nothing.

"I love you, Y/N." He was begging now, swallowing his pride in a desperate attempt to win you back somehow, "Please, try to forgive me- I love you so much,"

"You know what the most fucked up thing about this is? I even believe you that you do," You gave a bitter laugh, truly fed up with everything he had done to you, "But that doesn't change anything."

You gave him one last look, taking in his slumped figure before you. Nothing about him resembled the guy you had been in love with for the past year.

"Don't ever talk to me again. I never want to have any part in your mind games again," You knew your words were harsh, but you meant it. You had always given him yet another chance to right his wrongs, but he wasn't ever going to do that. That much you knew now.

As you turned around to walk away from him, you couldn't stop the tears from flowing. You stumbled down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower in a daze, the faint noise of Draco's sobs ringing in your ears.

 The hallways of Hogwarts were fairly empty by now, most of the students already having left for dinner. Which was lucky for you, seeing as your tears just couldn't seem to dry down no matter how hard you tried.  You really weren't in the mood for anyone to see you like this and a huge amount of relief rushed over you as you finally arrived at your dorm and saw that it was empty. You laid down on your bed, lazily covering yourself in your blanket.

All your mates were at dinner, but you just couldn't be bothered. You were way too shook up still, and you knew the others would notice something was off even if you would try your best to pretend to be fine. Especially George, you would never be able to fool him. He had always been able to see right through you.

Your heart ached as you thought about him, knowing that he had warned you that something like this would happen. Why did you have to tell him you wouldn't be hurt? And why did he have to be right about this being just another mess with Draco?

Right now, there was nothing that you craved more than his comfort. Deep down, you knew that even if you were silly enough to turn up to dinner right now, with your eyes all puffy and red, he would be the first to get up and rush towards you. You couldn't help but imagine him wrapping you up in his strong arms, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and it instantly making you feel like you're home.

You caught yourself getting lost in that thought for longer than you would like to admit. The only thing that snapped you out of it was the guilt creeping up on you, realising how hypocritical it would be to seek his comfort now.

He had warned you, time and time again, that Draco truly didn't deserve you. But you always thought you knew better, just to end up sobbing in George's arms again. Wouldn't it be unfair to crawl back to him again now, even more defeated and hurt than ever before? After telling him you could handle it?

A knock on your door pulled you out of your muddled thinking, and you immediately sat up in your bed. It couldn't be one of your dormmates coming in, they wouldn't knock. So who could it be?

"Y/N, you in there?" George's voice rumbled through the door, but you felt frozen in place. What was he doing here?

"Yeah, yeah," You quickly called out as you regained your composure, sitting up a bit straighter before you added, "Come in,"

George did as he was told, and closed the door behind him as he stepped into the room, "I was just wondering why you aren't at dinner," He sat down on the corner of your bed, his hands in his lap.

"I'm just not feeling good, got a bit of a headache," You lied through your teeth, and tried to quickly distract George from his question, "How did you get into the girls' dorm, anyway?"

"You know I have my ways," He gave you a small smirk, but it disappeared as soon as he noticed your glassy eyes and puffy cheeks, "Are you sure it's a headache that's bothering you?"

There was no point in lying, you knew it. But still, you didn't want to feel like you were burdening George, again. "It's nothing, really."

"Y/N," The twin emphasized your name, raising his eyebrows at you, "You know you can be honest with me. I'll leave it if you don't want to talk about it, but please don't act like nothing's going on."

"Fine," You sighed, knowing that he was right, "Let's just say my meeting with Draco was worse than I expected,"

"You want to talk about it?" George asked gently, and then gestured towards the dorm door, "We could go for a walk,"

"Yes," You didn't ponder on his question for too long, realising once more that this was exactly what you needed, "I'd quite like that."

"Come on then," He ushered for you to get up, and he did the same before walking outside your dorm. You grabbed your jacket before following him, absent-mindedly wiping lightly on your face in an attempt to make yourself look a bit less like you had just been crying your eyes out.

You sneaked out alongside George, trying not to run into any teacher who would just question why you two weren't at dinner. They'd think you would be up to god knows what, especially with the twins' reputation as pranksters.

As you finally stepped outside, the cold air hit your face immediately. It wasn't an uncomfortable feeling though, instead, it soothed you in a way.

"See, some fresh air is good, right?" George piped up next to you, pulling his scarf a bit tighter around his neck.

"It actually is," You admitted, "I'm glad you got me out of my room a bit. Thank you,"

"No need to thank me," He smiled back at you, "You know I always appreciate a good opportunity to sneak around,"

"Yeah, I know you do," You chuckled lightly before your face fell again. You remembered what had brought you out here in the first place, and you truly wanted to tell George about what happened. You just didn't know where to start, "How did you know I would be in my dorm, anyway?"

"It doesn't exactly take a mastermind to figure that one out," George retorted with a grin, you both walking side by side as you wandered aimlessly around Hogwarts, "But to be honest, I actually checked in the Astronomy Tower first once I noticed you weren't at dinner, I thought maybe you had stayed there after your talk,"

"Was he.. still there?" You asked hesisantly.

"Yeah," George tried to approach the subject carefully, and his voice was barely above a whisper, "I was halfway up the stairs when I could hear him.. cry. I turned around immediately, and headed back down,"

"Oh," Is all you were able to let out at first, even though you already knew that Draco had begun to cry as you left. You figured that maybe a part of you still couldn't believe that it was affecting him this badly as well.

"Yeah, oh," George repeated, and murmured more to himself than you, "I don't know what happened to make him cry, but.. he really does love you, I'll give him that. It doesn't wrong his rights, but still."

You just nodded, and in your head tried to find a way to sum up everything that had happened so you could finally explain to your best friend. But how would George feel, once you told him that this somehow all involved him too? Would he think that Draco's fixation of you leaving for him was ridiculous? Would it change things between you two?

"He finally told me why he broke up with me," You started abruptly, and George turned his head to you to listen intently. "He told me that he thought I would just end up leaving him, at some point. Leave him for.. someone else,"

"What the hell," George responded, "How did he get that idea? Who would you even leave him for," His voice went a bit quiet before he added the next part, and it seemed to you there was a hint of sorrow in it, "It always seemed to me like you had only eyes for him. And no one could change that,"

"Well.." You were almost mumbling now, scared of how George would react to your next words, "Turns out he thought I would.. end up with you, I guess."

George's eyes opened widely, and he stopped in his tracks.

You didn't give him any time to further react though, instead you stopped next to him and  rambled on with your explanation, "Anyway, in his way he saw this whole break-up as some sort of test of whether I ever I'd move on quickly,"

"He can't be serious," The redhead couldn't believe what he was hearing, he hadn't even begun to process yet that Draco had seen him as some sort of threat. And his reasoning behind the breakup was even more ridiculous.

"He said something along the lines that Pansy had just been a fling to him, something to get back at me when he thought I was with.. you." You explained further, searching George's face for some kind of reaction.

George felt everything at once, devastation as he realised how much that meeting must have hurt you, and the ever-growing urge to punch Draco Malfoy's teeth out. And in there, mixed with those emotions, was the slightest glimmer of.. hope, maybe? Hope because Draco had seen him as a person that you could possibly fall in love with and choose over him? He felt guilty about it, but that feeling was there.

"I can't believe he would do that to you. I'm so sorry, Y/N." George wanted to comfort you, more than anything else. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You're already doing more than I deserve, honestly." You responded softly, "I should say sorry to you, George. You told me I should be careful, but I wasn't. You should be sick of my complaining by now," You began to walk again, trying to keep yourself busy somehow.

"I could never be sick of that," He immediately responded, following alongside you as you continued to wander around, "Or sick of you, for that matter. I told you I'd be there if anything goes wrong, and I meant it."

"Thank you." That was all you could say, but it was so heartfelt. You realised that you didn't have to feel guilty about accepting your best friend's help, "For everything,"

Now and then, your arm brushed lightly against George's as you walked. And every time it did, it felt like sparks were flying between the two of you. You wondered if George could feel it, too.

"There's one thing I haven't told you yet," You broke the silence again, "He asked me for another chance. Told me he still loved me, and all that."

George stared at you in disbelief, and in the back of his mind, he felt the glimmer of hope losing its light. He was sure you wouldn't go back to Draco after all this, but what if his lingering feelings meant that yours lingered, too?

"Don't worry, I'm not considering it of course. As far as I know, I never want him to talk to me again," You quickly assured him, noticing the quite visible shock on his face.  

"Do you still love him, though?" George's question came out bolder than he had wanted it too, but he couldn't help it. The way your arm kept brushing against his send sparks flying through his body, and you looked so lovely with the way the moonlight reflected off the snow around you onto your face.

He needed to know if Draco was still the one on your mind, or if maybe there was even the slightest chance for him. If there wasn't, he'd always stay your best friend regardless, of that much he was sure. But he needed to hear you answer his question, first.

Now you were the one to stop in your tracks, and you looked George directly in his eyes as you responded to his question.

"No." The simplicity of your answer surprised even yourself, but once you had said it, you knew it was true. You were finally able to let go of Draco, and it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders.

"Good," George breathed out, turning his body to face you while the both of you stood there.

"Good?" You questioned, a small smile playing around your lips.

"I mean- I'm just glad you can move on now," His explanation was partly right, but not quite the truth yet.

"Is that the only reason why you asked?" Now you were the one raising your eyebrows at him, knowing that there was something he wasn't telling you. George always seemed to forget that not only he could see through you, but that it worked vice versa as well.

"No," It didn't take him long for him to admit that you were onto something, but the redhead still added, "But this isn't the time or place for it."

"Oh my god, so there really is something you don't want to tell me," You teased and now that you were this curious to find out what it was, you definitely wouldn't be able to leave it alone, "Come on, Georgie. Please," You pleaded jokingly.

"Using my nickname against me, that's just cruel," He chuckled lightly, "You know I can't resist when you say it like that,"

"That's exactly why I'm doing it, Georgie," You tried your best to sound cute, and seemingly succeeded as you saw the pink tint on George's cheeks.

"Fine," He scoffed and gave into your tricks, "I'll tell you. But just know, I don't expect anything from you. I know you're hurt, and just went through all that chaos with your ex."

You noticed that George took a deep breath before continuing to speak, and was nervously tapping his foot on the snowy ground.

"Look, there's really no other way of saying this." He closed the distance between the two of you and took each of your hands in one of his. George let his thumbs run lightly along the back of your hands, which made you hold your breath for a second. "I'm in love with you, Y/N."

For a second, you felt like you were about to pass out. You tried to focus, and let his words truly sink in. Your heart skipped every other beat, but outwardly, your face seemed blank.

"And as I said, I don't expect anything from you, especially right now," George quickly added, studying your face and thinking that he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, "I know this probably isn't something you want, and that's alright. Let's just- forget this ever happened. Nothing is gonna change between us, I promise."

Your face was still blank, but on the inside, you felt like you were about to explode. You couldn't pinpoint when your feelings for George had shifted from friendship to this. Perhaps a part of your heart had always been beating for George, and you were just too caught up in your whirlwind of a relationship with Draco to even realise it. You figured it didn't matter anymore, anyway. All you knew for sure was that right now, more than just one part of your heart was beating for George. It was your whole being that wanted to be with him, in any way it possibly could.

"Can you just say something, Y/N? Please," George's voice was almost pleading, and it brought you back into reality.

You decided to not say anything.

Instead, you just flung your arms around George's neck and pulled him close. You closed your eyes and let your lips meet his. It was a soft kiss at first, George not quite yet realising that this was happening for real and that it wasn't just another one of his countless dreams about you. As it finally caught up to him, he didn't waste any more time. George lifted his arms and wrapped them around your waist, his fingers clutching onto the smooth fabric of your jacket for dear life.

He needed you close, and he needed it now. He allowed himself to deepen the kiss for the moment before you both pulled away breathlessly.

"We can take this slow, you know," He reassured you, taking your face in his hands and lifting it gently so he could get a proper look at you, "I understand if you're still confused about everything that happened these past days. We don't need to label this between us anytime soon if that's something you're not comfortable with yet."

"You just told me you loved me, that’s not exactly taking it slow," You teased, but your smile was still tender as you looked up to him.

"You’ve got a point there,“ George chuckled quietly, lightly stroking your cheeks with his thumbs as he talked, "We’ll take it slow from now on, then."

"I appreciate that," You sunk into his soft touch, and looked up to him with nothing but pure admiration in your eyes. It was true, of course you were still hurt and confused by Draco's actions. At last, you were able to let go, but it would take some more time until you were truly healed. But still, there was one thing that you weren't confused by, at least not anymore.

And those were your feelings for the person in front of you right now, "I'm in love with you too, by the way. If my actions didn't speak loud enough," You had a grin plastered onto your face, and George could barely resist the urge to just kiss you over and over again.

"Oh, the message was received, I think," He playfully remarked, and gave in to his urge to lean down and kiss you again. The feeling of your lips on his sent tingles down his spine, and he knew he would never get enough of that.

You both stood there like that for awhile longer, just breathing each other in. And when you snuck back into Hogwarts later that night, you did it hand in hand.

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[calzona-ga]

She might change her mind; she certainly has before. But midway through an interview, Ellen Pompeo casually drops the bomb that after more than 360 episodes, the upcoming 17th season of “Grey’s Anatomy” may be its last.

“We don’t know when the show is really ending yet,” Pompeo says, answering a question that was not at all about when the show might end. “But the truth is, this year could be it.”

Pompeo has played Meredith Grey — the superstar surgeon around whom “Grey’s Anatomy” revolves — since its start. The show, created by Shonda Rhimes, premiered on ABC on March 27, 2005, and became an immediate, noisy hit. Since then, for a remarkably long time in Hollywood years, the drama has been among the most popular series on TV, even as the landscape of television has changed seismically. At its Season 2 ratings height, the program drew an average audience of 20 million viewers. And all these years later — in a TV universe now divided by more than 500 scripted shows —“Grey’s” ranks as the No. 1 drama among 18- to 34- year-olds and No. 2 among adults 18 to 49. In delayed, multiplatform viewing, Season 16 averaged 15 million viewers.

Strikingly, technology is such that teenagers who were born when the show premiered, and later binged “Grey’s” on Netflix, watch new episodes live with their parents. The series has spawned two successful spinoffs for ABC, “Private Practice” (which ran from 2007 to 2013) and “Station 19” (which enters its fourth season this fall). “Grey’s Anatomy” has been licensed in more than 200 territories across the world, translated into more than 60 languages, and catapulted the careers of music artists — from Ingrid Michaelson and Snow Patrol to Tegan and Sara and the Fray — whose songs have played during key emotional sequences.

In its explosive initial success, “Grey’s Anatomy” was an insurgent force in popular culture. The Season 1 cast featured three Black actors — Chandra Wilson, James Pickens Jr. and Isaiah Washington — as doctors in positions of power at the Seattle hospital where the show is set, and Sandra Oh played the ambitious intern Cristina Yang, who would become Meredith’s best friend. For the women characters, the “Grey’s” approach to sex was defiant and joyful, starting in the pilot with Meredith’s one-night stand with Derek (Patrick Dempsey), who turned out to be one of her bosses at the hospital.

Rhimes presented these images to the world like they were no big deal, when in fact, nothing like “Grey’s” had ever been seen on network television. Krista Vernoff has been the “Grey’s Anatomy” showrunner since Season 14, as anointed by Rhimes, and was the head writer for the first seven seasons. She remembers the moment she realized how radical “Grey’s” was — a medical show driven entirely by its characters instead of their surgeries — as she watched an episode early in Season 1. “My whole body was covered in chills,” Vernoff recalls. “I was like, ‘Oh, we thought we were making a sweet little medical show — and we’re making a revolution.’”

Still, no one expected “Grey’s Anatomy” to become the longest-running primetime medical drama in TV history, outlasting “MASH” and “ER,” the previous record-holder. Since 2005, “Grey’s” has inspired countless women to become doctors, and along the way, its depiction of illness has even saved a few lives. The show has remained popular through three presidential administrations, the Great Recession, tectonic shifts in how people watch TV and two cultural reckonings — one feminist, one anti-racist — that demonstrate how ahead of its time “Grey’s Anatomy” has always been.

And they’re not done yet. When Season 17 premieres on Nov. 12, “Grey’s Anatomy” will tackle the subject of the coronavirus as experienced by the doctors at Grey Sloan Memorial, all while filming under strict COVID-19 protocols. The season is dedicated to frontline workers. And Pompeo, a producer on “Grey’s” — whose Meredith has removed a live bomb from a patient’s body, was in a plane crash, was widowed after Derek died in a car accident, was beaten nearly to death by a patient and, in a separate incident, actually did die briefly after a ferry accident — is intent on making the show top itself once again.

“I’m constantly fighting for the show as a whole to be as good as it can be. As a producer, I feel like I have permission to be able to do that,” Pompeo says. “I mean, this is the last year of my contract right now. I don’t know that this is the last year? But it could very well could be.”

Pompeo has been refreshingly transparent about her fight to become the highest-paid female actor on television, having detailed a few years ago how she negotiated a paycheck for more than $20 million a year. She clearly knows what she’s doing with these frank pronouncements as well.

As Pompeo laughs over the phone from her car, she says in a near shout: “There’s your sound bite! There’s your clickbait! ABC’s on the phone!”

The “Grey’s Anatomy” team — led by Rhimes and executive producer Betsy Beers — created the first season in a vacuum, because the show did not have an airdate. The 2004-05 season was a comeback year for ABC because “Desperate Housewives” and “Lost,” both of which debuted that fall, became phenomena — not only ratings successes but also watercooler events.

But at “Grey’s,” Rhimes was getting noted to death by network president Steve McPherson. According to Vernoff, McPherson — who resigned in 2010 under a cloud of sexual harassment allegations — stonewalled with “pushback every step of the way,” as ABC’s then- head of drama, Suzanne Patmore Gibbs, fought for the show. Vernoff was close with Patmore Gibbs, who died in 2018, and recalls her talking about her clashes with McPherson.

“He just didn’t get it; he didn’t like it,” Vernoff continues. “Honestly, I’m going to say, I don’t think he liked the ambitious women having sex unapologetically.”

Wilson, when she was cast as Miranda Bailey on “Grey’s,” was a New York theater actor (“Caroline, or Change”) relatively new to series television. But she was well aware of the network’s issues. “We took a creative break around the Christmas holiday, which to me meant ‘Oh, we’re out of a job.’”

Pompeo was frustrated: “Once we finally got an airdate, two weeks before that airdate they wanted to change the title of the show to ‘Complications.’”

In an email to Variety, McPherson disputed these assertions, saying, “I made the original deal with Shonda. I developed ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ at the studio. I picked it up at ABC.” He praised Patmore Gibbs, and added, “As for defaming me again and again, I don’t know what to say other than it’s sad that anyone feels the need to spread lies about me.”

Yet there was so little faith in the show that the writers were asked to clear out their offices when they finished the season. But to Vernoff, who had clicked right away with Rhimes, the early episodes had “felt like a labor of love.”

And it was worth the battle. “We fought for the right for Meredith and Bailey to be whole human beings, with whole sex lives, and not a network TV idea of likable,” Vernoff says. “You might not have been likable, but now you’re iconic.”

As far as the medicine went, the cases were often ostentatious. “Every kind of crazy accident that had ever caused terrible harm to any human ever, that was our homework at night,” Vernoff says. It was up to Zoanne Clack, an emergency room doctor-turned-writer, to be a sounding board in the writers’ room. She began as the only doctor on staff during the first season, and is now an executive producer. “What was interesting was that the writers don’t have those boundaries because they don’t know the rules, so they would come up with all of these scenarios, and my immediate thought was like, ‘No way!’” Clack says. “Then I’d have to think about it and go, ‘But could it?’”

When the program finally premiered — on a Sunday night after “Desperate Housewives” — to massive ratings, it was a shock to the cast and crew, given that they had shot the first season under a cloud, Pompeo says, adding, “So the fact that the numbers were that huge the first time we aired was a big f–k-you to McPherson!”

With Season 2 now a given, everything changed, Vernoff says: “It was like a hurricane-force gale, and everyone was just trying to hold on.” They had made 13 episodes for Season 1, airing nine of them and holding the final four for Season 2 — Meredith finding out that Derek was actually married (to Addison, played by Kate Walsh) had felt like the perfect finale. But upon the writers’ return, Vernoff says, the feeling was “Holy s—. We have to make 22.”

The entire cast — mostly unknown actors like Katherine Heigl as the sunny Izzie Stevens, T.R. Knight as the chummy neurotic George O’Malley, and Justin Chambers as the troubled, secretly vulnerable Alex Karev — had become famous overnight. For Wilson, whose Bailey was the stern teacher the interns called “the Nazi,” it was a new experience. “Folks were scared to talk to me, like in the store or in the Target — people would just kind of leave me alone,” she says. “It was like, ‘What’s going on?’”

According to Vernoff, “Paparazzi were following the cast to work — it was wild.”

The mid- to late-2000s were the height of glossy gossip magazines such as Us Weekly (and its copycats), as well as the inception of TMZ and Perez Hilton as celebrity-hounding, news-breaking forces that fueled (and soiled) the fame-industrial complex. The cast of “Grey’s Anatomy” was firmly in the sights of these new, often toxic forces in media.

Pompeo says the cast was so talented that it “was all worth it” — but yes, the transition to stardom was hard for the group: “At the time, it was just a real combination of exhaustion and stress and drama. Actors competing with each other — and envious.”

Heigl, Knight and Isaiah Washington all went through press cycles that made the show seem scandal-prone. To rehash it all now seems pointless; you can look it up. Washington was fired in June 2007. Knight and Heigl asked to be written out of the show preemptively, in Seasons 5 and 6, respectively.

Vernoff and the other writers were watching the internal messes unfold. They had to deal with how the fallout affected the show’s plot, as when Washington was fired just as Burke, his character, was about to marry Cristina. “When word comes down that an actor is leaving the show, and what you’ve got scripted is a wedding …” Vernoff trails off, laughing.

“There was a lot of drama on-screen and drama off-screen, and young people navigating intense stardom for the first time in their lives,” she continues. “I think that a lot of those actors, if they could go back in time and talk to their younger selves, it would be a different thing. Everybody’s grown and changed and evolved — but it was an intense time.”

Pompeo doesn’t want to talk about what happened with individual actors from the show, because when she has in the past, “it doesn’t get received in the way in which I intend it to be.” But she does make a point about the way television is produced. “Nobody should be working 16 hours a day, 10 months a year — nobody,” she says. “And it’s just causing people to be exhausted, pissed, sad, depressed. It’s a really, really unhealthy model. And I hope post-COVID nobody ever goes back to 24 or 22 episodes a season.

“It’s why people get sick. It’s why people have breakdowns. It’s why actors fight! You want to get rid of a lot of bad behavior? Let people go home and sleep.”

Debbie Allen would eventually be Pompeo’s savior in that regard, but that was years away. Allen — an actor and a dancer — began her directing career when she was on the 1980s TV series “Fame” as a “natural progression” because, she says, “I was in charge of the musical numbers, and so many directors didn’t really know how to shoot them.” She went on to be a prolific director and producer, most notably overhauling NBC’s “A Different World” after a tumultuous first season. As a fan of “Grey’s Anatomy,” Allen wanted to work on the show, and in Season 6, she was hired to direct. To prepare for it, Allen shadowed Wilson, who had been tapped to direct by executive producer-director Rob Corn. (“He came to me and said, ‘You should direct,’” says Wilson, who has now helmed 21 episodes. “And I said, ‘OK.’ Because I didn’t know what else to say.”)

Directing that sixth-season episode led to Allen’s fruitful relationship with “Grey’s.” In Season 8, Rhimes wrote Allen into the show to play Catherine, a star surgeon, a love interest for Richard Webber (Pickens) and the mother of Jackson Avery (Jesse Williams). Ahead of Season 12 in 2015, Allen became the show’s EP/director. Her duties included hiring all of the directors, weighing in on scripts and casting, and, as Allen puts it, “minding that people feel good about themselves.” Several years before the revived #MeToo movement would lead to calls for systemic changes behind the camera in Hollywood, Allen set a goal of hiring 50% women directors. She also increased the number of Black men who directed “Grey’s” during her first season as executive producer, among them Denzel Washington. (When she sold him on it, she recounts, he said to her, “I’m going to say yes, Debbie Allen.”)

Pompeo and Allen are close. Allen began her new role the year after Dempsey left, “at a time when we were really broken,” Pompeo says. “And so much of our problems were perpetuated by bad male management. Debbie came in at a time when we really, really needed a breath of fresh air, and some new positive energy.”

Pompeo continues with a laugh: “Debbie really brought in a spirit to the show that we had never seen — we had never seen optimism! We had never seen celebration. We had never seen joy!”

According to Pompeo, Allen began advocating for her to have more humane hours — Fridays off (Pompeo: “And I was like, ‘What? What? Fridays off?’”) — and for the show to shoot 12-hour days maximum, and ideally no more than 10 hours (Pompeo: “And I was like, I love this woman.”).

Allen speaks affectionately about her bond with Pompeo. “Coming out of Boston, she’s so earthy and real in a way that you might not know,” Allen says. “There’s a sisterhood between us — I guess you would say it’s almost a Blackness that exists between us. And she’s part of our tribe.”

Allen has been a key member of the “Grey’s Anatomy” brain trust since Season 12, and two seasons later, Vernoff returned to run the show. She’d left at the end of Season 7, consulted on “Private Practice” for a few years, and then went to Showtime’s “Shameless” for five seasons. As her contract was set to expire, Rhimes asked Vernoff to lunch, and told her she wanted her to take over. “It felt like she was saying, ‘Hey, our kid needs you,’” Vernoff says.

Before accepting the offer, Vernoff had to catch up on the show. She had always written “Grey’s” as a romantic comedy, and what she saw on-screen during her binge was dark as hell — especially after Derek’s death. “If this show that you are currently making is the show that you want ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ to be,” she recalls telling Rhimes, “I am, in fact, not the right writer for it.” But Rhimes was insistent, saying it was time for a change after the mourning period for Derek.

Vanessa Delgado, who started as a production intern during the seventh season and has worked her way up to being lead editor and co-producer, says the show’s trajectory shifted when Vernoff came back — it was a return to the original, saucier tone of “Grey’s.” “We changed the music completely,” Delgado says. “The dialogue felt lighter and more fun, and wewere having fun again.”

That lightness will be difficult to maintain this year, of course, when, as Allen puts it, “COVID is No. 1 on the call sheet right now.”

Vernoff at first wondered whether “Grey’s” should ignore the coronavirus, thinking the audience comes to the show “for relief.” But the doctors in the writers’ room convinced her this wasn’t the time for escapism, saying to her, “This is the biggest medical story of our lifetime, and it is changing medicine permanently.”

When they’ve had doctors and nurses come speak with them this season, Vernoff says, “they were different human beings than the people we’ve been talking to every year. And I want to honor that, tonally. I just want to inspire people to take care of each other.”

Pompeo, who is not shy about offering criticism, sounds positively enthusiastic: “I’ll say the pilot episode to this season — girl, hold on.

“What nobody thinks we can continue to do, we have done. Hold on. That’s all we’re going to say about that!”

Pompeo has a few more months before she decides whether she wants to continue — and as Rhimes and ABC have made clear in recent years, the show will likely end when she leaves. “I don’t take the decision lightly,” Pompeo says. “We employ a lot of people, and we have a huge platform. And I’m very grateful for it.”

“You know, I’m just weighing out creatively what can we do,” she says. “I’m really, really, really excited about this season. It’s probably going to be one of our best seasons ever. And I know that sounds nuts to say, but it’s really true.”

Vernoff doesn’t worry about the creative well drying up. “We’ve blown past so many potential endings to ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ that I always assume it can go on forever,” she says.

And Wilson knows how important “Grey’s” is to its audience, in that the characters have essentially become people who “live in their house.” As one of only three actors who’ve been on “Grey’s” since the beginning — the other is James Pickens Jr. — Wilson is in it until the end: “In my mind, Bailey is there until the doors close, until the hospital burns down, until the last thing happens on ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’ That is her entire arc.”

Whenever the show does conclude, part of its legacy will be about the talent it launched into the world, beginning with Rhimes, who will soon release her first shows for Netflix, after her company, Shondaland, made a lucrative deal with the streamer in 2017.

But it will also be about the characters of “Grey’s Anatomy”— mostly women and people of color — who are trying to make the world a better place as they find friendship, love and community.

“The show, at its core, brings people together,” Pompeo says. “And the fact that people can come together and watch the show, and think about things they may not have ordinarily thought about, or see things normalized and humanized in a way that a lot of people really need to see — it helps you become a better human being. If this show has helped anybody become a better human being, then that’s the legacy I’d love to sit with.”

[pocketreads]

REVIEW: Before We Disappear by Shaun David Hutchinson

US preorder link | insta | booktok | goodreads

Thank you to NetGalley for sending me an eARC in exchange for an honest review!

To Keep It Short: I had a good time, but I was honestly expecting more from such a long book. (A TL;DR can be found at the bottom of this review!)

Summary: As a fantastic thief with flexible morality, Jack Nevin is the perfect assistant to the world-famous magician: the Enchantress. He likes what he does. Or at least, he thinks he does. Forced to flee and choosing to perform at the 1909 Alaska–Yukon–Pacific World’s Fair Exposition in America, Jack meets Wilhelm, and suddenly he isn't so sure.

Wilhelm doesn't know who his real parents are. Teddy made sure of that when he kidnapped him as a child after discovering Wilhelm's magic - his ability to travel to and from places in the blink of an eye. For the last decade, Teddy has been using Wilhelm against his will to carry out his heists. And now they're headed for the big game: the Fair Exposition, where Teddy intends to pose as Lazlo, a magician, in order to pull off their most risky heist yet.

THE BOOK:

CWs: kidnapping, involuntary bloodletting, manipulation, gaslighting, physical, mental, and emotional abuse/torture Release date: 9/28/2021 Publisher: HarperTeen Page Count: 512 Genre: YA Historical Fantasy Is It Queer: Yes! Achillean main romance, sapphic side romance.

THE REVIEW:

It's a little hard to describe how I felt about this book. Given that it's 500+ pages, I definitely expected more. I'm usually really into character-driven narratives, and while I certainly enjoyed Jack and Wilhelm's story well enough -- I finished it, after all -- it really did drag at some points. There's a lot of room to explore within 500 pages, but by the end, it felt like we'd only just dipped beneath the surface level of who Jack and Wilhelm really are. In Jack's case in particular, we learn early on that he lived on the streets for a time after his mother died, but we don't really get to see in any real depth the mark this left on him. I also wish we'd gotten to see more of Lucia, Ruth, and Jessamy, because I really did love them. All of the characters are wonderfully unique, and we see teasers into their lives and emotions and wants and needs, but we don't really get to delve into that. Everything as a whole might have felt more solid had we spent more time with them. Teddy and George can rot <3 All that said, I did enjoy it well enough! As dual narrators, Jack and Wilhelm are engaging and easy to love and root for. The romance was incredibly sweet, healthy, and well developed, and I enjoyed watching them realize what real love could feel like. The real plot of Before We Disappear was ultimately the romance, which is fine, although it left me wanting in regard to the subplots, all of which were deeply interesting but just... not quite there. If you're a stickler for historical accuracy, you might find yourself a bit annoyed with how homophobia is approached here, but SDH makes a really good statement in his author's note: "We were there in 1909 whether people knew it or not, and while Jack and Wil's story isn't true, I'd like to think it could have been." I'm personally in the middle ground, as I love to see gays just bein' happy and will always root for more of these narratives, but from a writing perspective, broaching the subject of homophobia could definitely have added a bit more emotional depth to the characters and subplots. All in all, it's a fun read and worth your time if you're looking for something a little lighter (that still hits on some deeper, more serious topics such as mental and physical abuse, gaslighting, kidnapping, etc.).

★★★✰✰/5 STARS (3/5)

TOO LONG; DIDN'T READ:

Pros: Great cast and narration, incredibly sweet romances, an overall fun read

Cons: Characters and plot needed further development, drags at moments, historical inaccuracy if that irks you

[littlemisssquiggles]

I have had a fear ever since Salem’s first meeting with Cinder and crew in Volume 4, given what Ruby’s silver eye power did to Cinder and Tyrian sadistically mentioning “eye for an eye” that Ruby might lose an eye, have half her face horribly scarred, lose an arm...considering Cinder’s grudge and the dramatic irony that the two would “match” if that would happen and would be “even”. And considering the show pulls no punches at times...it’s just a fear I’ve had ever since Volume 4 and especially since things are getting much darker. I just want both halves of the RoseGarden team to be okay! Poor babies 😔

Hey there Sweet. To tell you the honest truth fam, I’m not a fan of the whole “Ruby losing an eye” theory that’s become increasingly popular with the FNDM as of this volume. 

In my opinion, the CRWBY Writers haven’t done a good job at progressing Ruby’s development as a Silver Eyed Warrior in a manner that feels consistent and feels like it has actually impacted her as a character. 

Over the course of the last couple of seasons, I’ve seen these writers introduce the Silver Eyes in the finale of V3 then drop it for two whole volumes without depicting Ruby showing any kind of onscreen interest in knowing that side of herself despite the connection it has to her mother.

They then brought it back in V6 with the inkling that the audience could essentially start to see Ruby begin to focus on training to fully control her unique abilities. They even introduced a mentor character for Ruby to have in the form of Maria Calavera (in place of Ozpin who was actually the one who told Qrow first about the Silver Eyed Warriors buuuut...I digress). 

However even that was squandered since in the end, we neither received any further information on the Silver Eyed Warriors (outside of the brief titbit on their ties to the God of Light) nor have we seen any further moments of Ruby actually training to use her powers. Instead what we got was a rushed moment of triumph of Ruby using her powers against the Leviathan. 

And despite showing that Ruby’s powers didn’t 100% work against the Kaijuu Grimm---proving that Ruby still needs more training, what happens after V6 going into V7? Ruby’s training to become a full-fledged Silver Eyes get dropped yet again and what’s worse is that her so-called mentor character---Maria gets side-lined and relegated to the team Granny Uber Driver despite showing much more promise than that.

At this point, if the showrunners were to have Ruby lose an eye then I honestly would hate it. And this is coming from someone who considers Ruby as one of her favourite characters in the show and was more than excited to see her grow into a Silver Eyed Warrior. 

What good would Ruby losing an eye do for her development NOW if the show hasn’t been steady with that aspect of her story up until this point? 

To me, it’ll just feel like something that was done for pure “shock value” without much thought as to how it can and will continue to develop the character in the long run and I’m not going to like it for that reason. Ruby losing her silver eyes or an eye---what will the showrunners do with that, huh? Have Ruby suddenly decide to take urgency to her training to use her Silver Eyes seriously after not showing an interest in continuing her training since her arrival in Atlas? 

What good would that be now if they haven’t been consistent with this at all for Ruby’s side of the story? But then again, these are just my thoughts and opinions on that matter. Pardon my saltiness on the subject. I just personally don’t like how Ruby’s Silver Eyed Warrior story is being handled at all. While I do  like some elements to it (like the introduction of Maria and how the power connects Ruby to her mother and feelings over her death), it’s doesn’t change the fact that the inconsistency in how it was told is really bugging me. 

And the popularity of  “Ruby losing an eye” doesn’t change my stance on it. However, since this theory is popular with the FNDM. I’m going to humour it for a bit here.

Hypothetically, if something horrendously bad were to befall Ruby and her eyes then I personally would rather it be a case in which Ruby’s eyes become severely damaged during an altercation with Salem. 

Let’s say…Salem used the same black magic she used on Oscar last episode to burn Ruby’s eyes. Not enough for her to lose vision entirely like Maria but enough that it becomes a huge impairment to her abilities as both a Silver Eyed Warrior and a huntress as a whole.

Imagine a scenario where…Salem damages Ruby’s eyes to a point where the little rose can’t use her silver eye powers without the risk of losing her vision completely. So basically this is an ultimatum that Ruby has to live with for the rest of her life.

What would she do if she had to sacrifice a part of herself and the very lifestyle she dreamed of becoming to save the world?

 Imagine if…Ruby is placed in a predicament where in order to defeat Salem and save Remnant, she needed to use her Silver Eyes. However due to her injury, she can’t use her Silver Eyes without losing her ability to see entirely. And if Ruby loses her sight then how was she going to be a huntress?

In previous seasons, Ruby had proclaimed that she always wanted to be like the heroes in the fairy tales she loved as a child. And according to Yang back in V2, Ruby has always wanted to become a huntress. She’s no different from Pyrhha Nikkos in that regard.

But what good would Ruby be as a huntress if she lost her eyes. How would she be able to help protect the world if she becomes blind to it? 

Would Ruby be willing to make that sacrifice if that was what it took to help humanity? Would she trade her eyes for the world? 

Would she give up being a huntresses and subject herself to being a blind woman for the rest of her life if it mean humanity could live another day without the tyranny of Salem or her forces? Would Ruby do that?

If something were to happen to Ruby’s eyes then I rather it’d be something like THAT. I think an arc like that could be very compelling for Ruby’s story.

Let’s say, at some point for V8, Salem deploys George---her Hound to go capture Ruby Rose this time. Since Oscar was resilient in withholding the truth about the Relics from Salem despite how many times she and her associates dared to break him---Salem decides to try a different approach.

Let’s say…after peaking into his mind, Salem learns that Ruby Rose is someone important to Oscar. Thus Salem has Ruby captured while using Oscar as bait. Like imagine if…Salem gets Ruby to willingly surrender herself over to the Hound to be taken away under the premise that no further harm will come to Oscar should Ruby give herself up.

Imagine a scene in which…Salem once again has a weakened Oscar Pine restrained by the Hound as he is forced to watch helplessly as the Wicked Witch brandished his beloved rose before him; proceeding to cause Ruby immense physical pain by torturing her with black magic all the while a poor tear-stricken Oscar is screaming for her to stop harming Ruby.

Like I’m picturing a moment where after Salem tortured Ruby with dark magic, she then used the same power to cause harm to Ruby’s eyes. 

Like imagine…Salem holding Ruby by the throat, threatening to strangle her to death or snap her neck with one hand while the other covered her eyes as the Wicked Witch slowly burned Ruby’s eyes with her black magic while she cried out in sheer agony. And it is in this moment where Oscar finally yields; telling Salem about Jinn while practically grovelling to her on his knees to stop her from harming Ruby further. 

Imagine if…a scene like that were to happen in the canon?

I’m not a fan of physical torture of characters. Scenes like that tend to make me feel very uncomfortable after a while of watching, particularly if it involves my favourite character or characters. But given the tone of this volume and what was seen from last episode, it wouldn’t surprise me if something like I just described were to happen.

If breaking Oscar physically and mentally isn’t enough for Salem to get what she desired out of him then the next alternative is to toy with his heart. It wouldn’t surprise me if Salem perceives the faith and compassion that her Ozma (cringe)---and by extension his successors---harbour for humanity as his greatest weakness. One that she is more than willing to exploit, especially when fuelled by petty (ass) revenge.

All in all, I want our two, smaller more honest souls to walk out of this volume unscathed as well, fam. However, again, given the tone of the last episode and this season thus far…I’m not so sure anymore. But we’ll see how the episodes go moving forward.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[jochmus]

A Discussion of One Approach to a Universal Characteristic

I have felt inspired yesterday to make this attempt as a text post on Tumblr. By the subject’s weighty history and definition, it should by no means be an easy endeavor. However, there are two individuals from my readings that have inspired me, named John Locke and George Polya. Although I own both of the texts that interest me by these men, I have not read those specific texts unfortunately. Another influence was the eloquence of Euclid’s axioms, indeed I have not read the Elements either except for like the first page. I tend to become distracted very easily, and this is not something that I am very proud of. 

Now I must reveal my passion for the works of Ramon Llull. He was the guy behind the most complete version of Characteristica Universalis, but that is only because he managed to inspire Leibniz to come up with his Characteristica, which was never really worked on or implemented, and the system that Llull created is called Ars Magna, in four distinct stages. The term Ars Magna itself with regards to Llull refers to the Ternary Art, which refers to the wheels or volvelles that he used have elements or principles being divisible by 3. Furthermore this also by coincidence is the third phase of the art, but the phase and divisibility of the wheels are distinct things. 

Enough of Llull. Leibniz is really the only person to be regarded here, as it can be assumed that he wished to update Ars Magna to the science of the time and his own distinguished opinion. That being said, he never managed to create such a thing, but merely wrote to his collaborators and associates about what a proper implementation of this Universal Characteristic would look like. His letters are somewhere in the order of magnitude of 10^5, which is a complicated way of saying 10,000. Indeed I do not remember the estimated number from the Wiki, but I do believe it was something like 30,000. 

By the way, the Wiki does list 21 different attempts at Characterica Universalis, which is the number if I recall correctly, that this scholarly text on Llull mentioned that the man had written this many different version of his system. Quite interesting, but I cannot lower myself into base numerology. That has been superseded. To return to Ramon Llull for a moment, the man allegedly got his system from the Sufis. This precursor system is called Zairja, and there are a couple of texts available on that subject, one written by modern scholars and another written by a Tunisian historian who wrote the Muqaddimah. A hint for those of you curious about the latter text: The chapter about Zairja is in the third volume of that text, and is available on the Internet Archive. 

Back to Leibniz; for some reason essay writing is quite tiring. From what we can discern about what he stated that this system would look like, well I have some bad news. Leibniz simply took the diagram that Empedocles created in antiquity and said “There.” What I mean by this is that Leibniz just took the four elements and their supposed connections, in doing so adding another four nodes to the diagram, and being content with drawing lines between said nodes in order to ratiocinate (think) on paper. Anyone can tell that this is follysome since we now know for a fact that the Classical Elements theory is rubbish. In fact, I have a hot take that it was not only responsible for the idea of “race,” but also the idea of depression. I have created an acronym for the various iterations of Classical Element theory, that is “EHTR” (pronounced ‘ether’) or Element-Humor-Temperament-”Race.” Indeed this may come as quite a shock everyone, but Kant the philosopher was really racist and decided to rank the “races.” I am not going to get into this, but I will say that it may have become esoteric or something through the likes of Manly P. Hall, who mentioned the same scheme Kant used, albeit reordering some things, after the latter mapped it to an analogy about the caste system mentioned in the Bhagavad Gita. I can feel the cancelation brewing already. 

There are probably many different ways to attain this Universal Characteristic. I find that I have provided enough introductory information on this subject, so let us move on to the main part of this essay. Unfortunately, this whole thing was spurred on by a feeling of grandiosity, so I really don’t know how valid my intuition is. Furthermore I forgot what it was that I could use to implement Charicterica Universalis. That being said, I think it was along the lines of a study of analogy, using mathematics, so that we could potentially describe the various processes that underlie reality. The other part was a return to metaphysics proper, or the three general distinguishing features of it according to some textbook, those features being categorization (which is what I consider to be important in particular with regards to this endeavor), thinking and a sense of supremacy regarding the method. Personally I really don’t think that the last one means much, and is in fact a detriment to updating philosophy as should be periodically done in my opinion. Science will always push the boundaries. 

I am going to split the remainder of this essay into three parts: The first part will be about analogy; the second, categorization; and thirdly an obscure paradox that I came up with last night, as a bonus for making it to the end of the essay. You could just skip to the paradox, if you would like, in fact I will bold the title for you, in case I have wasted too much of your time and am boring you. 

On Analogy

I envision analogy as not something fundamental, as the man who wrote Zen and the the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance stated that analogy is irreducible to sub-elements; and I argue against that position taken by the author of that text. I am honestly getting tired of writing and I have written the later parts of this essay before I wrote this part, so here goes nothing. 

In the next part I briefly mention knot and graph theory. I envision analogies as graphs, as I was inspired by Schrödinger’s book What is Life that the genetic material was a crystal. Not true, but why could this crystal represent mimesis, as opposed to “genesis?” (Genesis as in genes, an improper way to say that mind you.) Yes, I really think that this is the case, but it does sound kind of crazy now that I have it on paper after having it in my mind for a few years. I don’t know. I dislike the designation that Dawkins created for such things, the “meme” which he literally took from some German scientist with the same first name, and removed the ‘n’ in mneme to create this Internet garbage we see today. 

Then there are the developments with the idea of metaphor. I don’t really feel like getting into these because I am too tired and I keep making typing mistakes. Just know that it is possible to limit portions of the structure of the analogy to make it more congruent with other analogies or structures. Lastly, it really feels like the literary criticism movement is starting to claim all of the universe as its “text.” That is a portion of Structuralism, at least, according to PhilosophyTube. She stated that Structuralism started as literary criticism, and what do we as human beings do? Why we map the text to the whole of the universe. Some could argue that is a kind of metaphysics were it to be loosely understood. ...

On Categorization

The general gist of what I am thinking of here is that Ars Magna’s major issue is that it is not chaotic enough, if that makes any sense. What I am attempting to get at here is the thing about the questions generated in that system solely referring to the statements created. There is no architecture or complexity there to be studied and afterwards engineered, as it is just base multiplication to generate the questions. What I would like, is for the creation of the questions to be irreversible and chaotic, indeed those are separate things, much like the weather. Knot theory, or graph theory would come into play here, I am not sure which but that is what my intuition is telling me. Also, many statements could be superimposed to generate a set of questions, or a single question. Hopefully my mathematical studies will enable me to investigate this further in the future. 

It must be stated now that the whole category term does apply in my opinion to Ars Manga. This is because the system abstracts the categories into a table of about 54 “elements” which are then combined a second time to produce very short strings of text, for instance “BCD.” Of course, the strings could very well be longer, and could incorporate more intricacy in this manner, but it is really the interaction between all of these strings which constitutes the architecture of the system, although this is done in a manner contrary to the mainstream Lullists, which is an anachronism, really. 

Case in point the categories must translate into natural phenomena and vice versa. At the same time, if the categories were generative, then they must be irreversible in order to be as intricate as possible. The sky is the limit with this, “New Lullism.” I don’t feel like explaining any more, but if someone wants me to tell them about why the standard categories must be reversible, and the generative categories the reverse, then I will explain this another day. Indeed, it may be a false distinction; there may very well be four types of category system, that is:

Standard reversible;

Generative reversible (Ars Magna);

Standard irreversible;

Generative irreversible.

That is all for this part.

The Paradox

There is a possibility for a Universal Library, but the one available on the Internet is not feasible for conducting research on, because it is an art website and is not powerful enough to locate texts and be practical. I am talking about an implementation for the Universal Library called the Library of Babel. You can visit the website at libraryofbabel.info. I do not have the energy to disclose the theory behind this whole thing right now, but on request I will write about it another day. 

The mathematical constant “pi” supposedly does not repeat. Yet there is a trichotomy to be established here, when the constant is juxtaposed with the Universal Library, either; 

1). The Universal Library is effected by Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem (was stated by two separate mathematics professors to likely be the case);

2). Pi does indeed repeat minute portions of itself after a significantly large computation of it is conducted, with an upper bound order of magnitude of around 10^5000. Note that this is a back-of-hand calculation;

3). Pi cannot be mapped to the Universal Library.

This trichotomy may indeed be defective as I am not trained in logic, and also I had to make up the last one as I forgot what it was. Oh well.

Thank you very much for reading all of this. Have a swell day. 

[adenei]

The Mixtape Mishap - Chapter 6

New Year’s Festivities

The girls made their way down the stairs, with Hermione trailing a bit behind. She hoped that if Ginny and Fleur made the grand entrance first, she could slip into the room unnoticed because everyone’s focus would be on them. As Fleur and Ginny entered the room, she heard all the boys stop the mild chatter she had just heard. They were no doubt gaping at how beautiful Fleur looked with her silky long blonde hair against a modest shimmery deep blue dress. 

“Uh, Ginny, if we’d known that’s the dress you’d picked out with Fleur, we most certainly would not have gotten that,” Bill said tersely.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing Mum didn’t let you invite Dean,” she heard Fred agree. Hermione wished she could see the look on Harry’s face right now.

“Well, I think you look spectacular,” Hermione heard what sounded like Tonks’ voice. 

Oh good! Tonks is here, another person to talk to while I avoid Ron. Hermione was taking a few more deep breaths before finally making her way in when she saw Harry turn quickly around the corner and almost run into her.

“There you are!” he whispered. “Ginny just sent me after you. Why are you waiting here?”

“I- I don’t know. I thought those two could distract the attention and I could just slip in, but apparently not,” she hissed back at him. Hermione noticed Harry was wearing a light green button down shirt that brought out his eyes, with a black paisley tie and grey trousers. 

“Well, the longer you wait, the more obvious your solitary entrance is going to be,” Harry commented as Hermione self consciously tugged at her short skirt of the dress once more.

“Who’s out there anyways,” she couldn’t help but keep stalling.

Harry gave her a look, but indulged her question anyway. “Everyone. Oh, Tonks is here, too. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went upstairs for the night. I guess they trust Bill to keep an eye on things.”

“I see.”

“C’mon Hermione, just go. It won’t be a big deal if you don’t make it one,” Harry pushed.

It really shouldn’t be a big deal, but something kept Hermione rooted to the spot. Obviously, Harry hadn’t gotten the job done because Ginny rounded the corner next.

“Hermione, why are you still here?” she said half quietly. “Come on! You have to see what Fred and George have done! It’s amazing!”

“It is pretty impressive,” Harry agreed. He turned to Ginny and whispered, although loud enough for Hermione to hear, “I think she’s scared, if you ask me,” as he smirked in her direction.

Hermione instantly became annoyed at his criticism. I am absolutely not scared, she thought to herself, ignoring the fact that she still hadn’t moved in what had probably been a good five minutes.

“Scared?” she heard Ginny say. “Aren’t you a Gryffindor? Maybe the sorting hat should have put you in Ravenclaw if you can’t walk into a party,” Ginny rolled her eyes playfully. Hermione knew she was goading her on, but still didn’t like it. 

“Oh, honestly!” Hermione said annoyedly as she clambered down the remaining stairs and walked into the room. She turned back to them and said, “Are you happy now?”

Harry laughed as Ginny said, “Quite. It’s about time you joined the fun!” as she gestured into the completely transformed sitting room.

The twins had completely outdone themselves on the decorations. There was an entire wall of silver and gold holographic balloons in all shapes and sizes; the center housed four rose gold balloons that said ‘NYE 1997.’ There were also more silver and gold balloons hovering all throughout the ceiling for more decoration. Hermione noticed the furniture had been moved around and even transfigured to take on more of an ‘elegant party’ vibe, and two tables were set up. One table had various snacks and finger foods that Mrs. Weasley must have prepared for them, and the other table had champagne bottles and flutes on one side for a midnight toast, no doubt, and several black and silver cylindrical objects that Hermione wasn’t sure of. Aside from the glowing ambiance the balloons on the ceiling seemed to give off, nothing looked particularly out of the ordinary yet, though she was sure Fred and George must have some tricks up their sleeves if they were testing out a new line of products tonight. Hopefully it’s not in party games, Hermione thought.

A cat call whistle broke Hermione out of her admiration of the decor as she heard George say, “Damn, Fleur, I think you may have some competition on the most attractive female, here this evening. No offense, Tonks!”

Tonks laughed as she said, “None taken,” though it was hard to hear over Ginny who shouted, “Hey!”

“Sisters don’t count, and you should not be dressed like that,” Fred said teasingly, even though he was probably serious.

The twins didn’t notice Bill’s glare at their remark about Fleur, but she took it in stride as she commented, “I ‘ave no issue not being ze most attractive one ‘ere for once. “Hermione does not know of her own beauty.”

Hermione blushed profusely at Fleur’s words, and noticed Bill whisper something into Fleur’s ear as she melted into him. Hermione stood there awkwardly trying to avoid everyone’s gaze by looking around the room. That was a mistake, though because she froze when her eyes accidentally landed directly on Ron, who was staring directly at her, eyes slightly wide and mouth open. Hermione had to force herself to not physically gasp at the sight of him, looking more attractive than she thought was even possible. He was dressed in a light grey shirt, a tie that matched her dress perfectly in color, and black trousers. 

She forced herself to look away from him and direct the conversation away from herself. “So, while this does look spectacular, I can’t say it’s anything magical or out of the ordinary from muggle decorations in general. Except for that balloon wall. I’ve never quite seen some of those shapes, let alone numbers,” Hermione commented.

Thankfully, Fred took the bait of her remarks, and didn’t address the obvious looks Ron and Hermione had just given each. “Ah, but Hermione, don’t you know by now that George and I always have tricks up our sleeves? I’m disappointed that you don’t believe in us!”

“Yes, all of our products will speak for themselves in due time. Though, now that you mention it, we should tell you if you’d like to spike the cupcakes over there, one of our newest inventions are ‘shot shots’. All you have to do is pick a flavor, and inject it into the cupcake!” George demonstrated his description while everyone looked on in curiosity.

“Happy now that we’ve revealed something? Now, what say we begin the festivities with some muggle music?” Fred flicked his wand and ‘Shake it Off’ began playing through the wireless.

“What? How?” Hermione was speechless. How were they able to play that music?

George laughed as he said, “A little help from Lee. He figured out how to hack the muggle wireless system and was able to pick out all the upbeat songs and put it through a wireless channel.”

“Brilliant!” Ginny said as she tugged on Hermione’s arm. “There’s so much room to dance!” Ginny didn’t hesitate to start dancing as Tonks and Fleur joined them and the boys began distracting themselves with food. Despite giving into the music and dancing with the other girls, Hermione couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched. 

A few songs in, Ginny pulled Hermione close and said, “You know he’s been watching you this whole time, right?”

Hermione, who’d deliberately kept her back to the boys, nodded and said, “Yeah, I had a feeling,” as a small smile crept on her lips.

“You know Harry hasn’t taken his eyes off you either, right?” Tonks nudged Ginny, whose face immediately flushed red. Hermione gave her a knowing look.

The girls took a break to eat some of the food that was laid out. The sweets were exceptionally good when the ‘shot shots’ were added, Hermione noted. After they’d refueled and rested for a few songs, the girls went back to dancing some more. This pattern continued for the next couple hours, where they’d take breaks and eat snacks or drink Butterbeer when they didn’t like a particular song. Then, someone would undoubtedly drag the rest of them back to the clearing in the middle of the room when another good beat came on. Fred, George and Bill even joined in a couple times, and they all laughed at Fred and George’s ridiculous dance moves. Hermione continued to enjoy the distraction, as she still wasn’t sure what she’d say to Ron when the time came, so delaying the inevitable was the next best option. 

The latest song that was playing ended, and ‘Bad Blood’ began playing on the radio as Ginny squealed. “Ooh, I love this one!” The girls had moved slightly in their circle, and Hermione was now able to see Ron sitting with Harry. She noticed him straighten a bit and wondered if he heard the words and associated them with the title of the mixed CD she’d made. She hadn’t included the song in there, and couldn’t remember why. Probably for the better. After it ended, Hermione excused herself to use the loo.

Harry nudged Ron. “Now’s your chance.”

“What are you on about?” Ron asked.

“Go up there and wait for her to come out of the bathroom and finally talk to her. Unless you’d rather approach her down here where everyone can hear you.” Harry wondered if he had to spell out every tiny detail. 

“And if she ignores me?” 

“I swear if I have to watch you two eye each other and dance around whatever the hell is going on, I’m going to hurl,” Ginny appeared out of nowhere with her witty mark.

“Oi! No one asked you,” Ron retorted. 

“I didn’t need to be asked. I’m stealing Harry so now you have no excuse. Now go, or I’ll tell the twins you’ll volunteer for free to be their test subject on any and all new products for the next five years,” Ginny said as she held out her hand to Harry, evidently forcing him onto their makeshift dance floor.

Ron sniggered at the thought of Harry getting roped into dancing as he trudged up the stairs. He knew enough not to test Ginny’s bluffing, even though he still wasn’t sure what he was going to say to her. He’d been at a loss for words ever since she emerged from the stairway. That dress was enough to do him in right then and there. He leaned against the opposite wall waiting for her to emerge. He fiddled with the paper in his pocket, hoping it’d be enough to win her over this time. 

He heard the bathroom door open and he looked up to see a startled Hermione staring back at him. “Could we talk?” he asked her before he wimped out.

“Oh! Er, I- I don’t know,” Hermione said as her cheeks flushed red. She pretended to listen downstairs, “I really like the song playing right now…” she lied. 

“Just hear me out, yeah?” he pleaded with her, blocking her way downstairs for a brief moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously that day in Herbology when you talked about Slughorn’s party. And I’m sorry I let my jealousy get the best of me. I fucked up, alright?” He dug the paper out of his pocket. “Just- promise me you’ll go read this, and if- if you want to talk or anything after, I’ll be in my room for the next fifteen minutes. If I don’t see you, I’ll just assume it’s a pass and I’ll see you downstairs later.” She took the paper from him and stared at it as Ron turned to continue up the stairs to room. He turned back briefly to say, “By the way, you look amazing tonight,” as his ears turned the deepest shade of red. He turned and continued on his way.

Hermione stood there for a moment before slipping into Ginny’s room to see what it said. 

XO

Sugar, We’re Goin’ Down Swingin’

Am I more than you bargained for yet?

I’ve been dying to tell you anything you want to hear

Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I keep my jealousy close

‘Cause it’s all mine

And if you say this makes you happy

Then I’m not the only one lying

I’ve got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea that Says You Should Shut Your Mouth

I’m hopelessly hopeful

You’re just hopeless enough

Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year

So give in or just give up

Are we growing up or just going down

I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I got Was this Stupid Song Written About Me

I found the cure to growing older

And you’re the only place that feels like home

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More “Touch Me” **

I confess, I messed up

Dropping I’m sorries like you’re still around

And I know you dressed up

“Hey kid, you’ll never live this down”

And you’re just the girl all the boys want to dance with 

And I’m just the boy who’s had too many chances

I'm sleeping on your folks' porch again, dreaming

She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?"

I don't blame you for being you

But you can't blame me for hating it

So, say, what are you waiting for, kiss her, kiss her

I set my clocks early 'cause I know I'm always late

Write me off, give up on me

'Cause darling, what did you expect?

I'm just off, a lost cause

A long shot, don't even take this bet

You can make all the moves, you can aim all the spotlights

Get all the sighs and the moans just right

I'm sleeping on your folks' porch again, dreaming

She said, she said, she said, "Why don't you just drop dead?"

**Listen to this one on Ginny’s walkie thing. It’s the Fall Out Boy Album. #11

Please give me a chance to make this right..

Hermione couldn’t believe it. Ron must have taken the time to turn the tables and do the same thing for her. She was trying to figure out when he would have even gotten Ginny’s walkman to do this. I must have been in the shower. How sneaky of her! She thought as she pulled her own walkman out of her bag. Hermione picked it up to listen to the song Ron had requested of her, even though all the lyrics were already written on the paper.

She paused. Come to think of it, they listened to all the albums she had brought, plus both of Ginny’s. Maybe he used Harry’s mix? Of course he’d include where to find it, given the cheat sheet she’d written for Harry. You know, in case he needed Ginny’s for reference. Hermione carefully picked up the headphones and placed them over her ears, turning on the device. She skipped to #11 and read along with the lyrics while she listened to the song. When it had concluded, Hermione immediately turned off the walkman and placed the headphones over it. The song resonated with her in a way she knew wouldn’t have if she’d just simply read what was on the page. She knew exactly what she needed to do next.

***

Ron made his way up the stairs and entered his room. He was sure Fred and George would probably kill him if he got his clothes overly wrinkled, but he didn’t really care. He wasn’t expecting to just leave her with the paper, but when all was said and done, he figured that she deserved the same privacy he had with hers.

Something Harry had said gave him the idea. I know she’s bloody brilliant, but try and meet her on her level. So that’s exactly what Ron did with Harry’s CD and Ginny’s borrowed player. Harry had gone down to borrow it anyways, but didn’t question when Ron asked to use it for a while. It helped pass his time as he worked through the songs, hoping to find some that had some lyrics that fit what he wanted to say. 

It really was genius to use someone else’s words to express their own. And what was even better, was that Harry had a whole song on his that applied to how he felt about her and their whole situation, even if the title was a bit questionable. Ron sat on his bed, leaning forward so his arms rested on his legs as he stared at the clock. Ten minutes for fate to decide. 

What was I thinking? Giving her a deadline. Will she really know what I meant by asking her to give me a chance? And what if she does show up? Of course I didn’t think that far ahead. But that’d mean he’d be optimistic when he wasn’t sure if he actually felt that way. Time was dragging, yet flying, at the same time. At some point he realized there were five minutes left.

With three minutes left, Ron was ready to give up. He stood and walked towards the door, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind him. When he looked up he was surprised to see an out of breath Hermione.

“Where were you going? Ginny’s clock said I still had three minutes.” Hermione bit her bottom lip, “At least I don’t think I’m late..” 

“Wha- No, I just didn’t think - You actually came!” Ron stammered.

“Of course I came! Unless, that’s not what you wanted?” Hermione hesitated.

“No! I mean- oh sod it!” Ron said as he reached out, grabbing Hermione by the waist and pulling her into him as his lips crashed down on hers. 

Hermione was stunned at first, with one hand resting on the arm Ron used to pull her close, and the other resting against his chest. After she’d recovered from the initial shock, realizing that Ron was indeed kissing her, she eagerly returned the kiss. Hermione’s hands traveled up and wrapped around his neck of their own accord as Ron broke the kiss, for what Hermione hoped would be a brief moment.

“Is- is this okay?” he asked her breathily.

“More than,” Hermione said through a wide smile.

Ron returned her smile with his own signature lopsided grin as she leaned in for more. After Ron was convinced he’d given Hermione her own proper first snog, he broke away. “As brilliant as this is, we should probably head back down before Harry or Ginny come to check up on us.”

Hermione pouted. “I suppose you're right. What should we tell them?”

“Hmm, not sure. What do you think?” Ron knew she already had a plan forming.

“I think we should mess with them,” Hermione said with a devious smile.

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” Ron raised his eyebrow as Hermione quietly whispered her plan to him.

Oh, this is going to be good, he thought.

[irageneveart]

there are so many things a 16 years old person should be doing beside throwing hate, BUT HERE YOU ARE BEING A BRAT

@bfmyers I really can't take this anymore, are you really that full of hypocrisy to scream TOXIC left and right while you yourself use your free time to only spread hate? I don’t usually do this and I try to stay away from useless discourse but you're just kicking on my nerves way too much

under the cut cause boy I have a lot to say. (really, it’s long. I needed to point out everything)

I'm going to kindly tell you to fuck off artists' backs.

you have 0 fucking knowledge of what you're talking about yet you're making callouts and worse, people agree! the same people who supported the artists before by reblogging and liking their art are now shitting on them and "ihh no more reblogs from them" only because you write a lengthy shit in which not only that you threaten a human being, you don't even know how to argue. a link to a picture and screaming "toxic" ISN'T A GODDAMN ARGUMENT

people of this community, PLEASE use your fucking brains and don't bow your head to what every nameless kid has to say. you don't have to believe me either, just use your fucking brain and heart and do the decision making yourself

Now, you did a callout post on @dbd-omija pointing out how toxic they are!!! omg gasp animal death? abuse?? HOW IS THAT pOsSIbLe

where have you been until now because this is a horror community:

in the TCM universe inbreeding is mentioned multiple times

in the Halloween movies Michael kills two dogs and eats one of them

omija clearly stated they went with the 1978-2018 timeline BUT NO YOU KEPT SCREAMING BECAUSE HOW DARE THEY SAY SOMETHING AGAINST YOU

on that matter: in the halloween movies Michael's cult makes him rape his niece, in another movie Laurie, before jumping to what it seemed her death, kisses Michael's mask lips. GASP, when will you sue the directors?

after he escaped, Max literally slaughtered every living creature in that farm. put the DBD devs on your "I need to sue them cause I have something to say against this horror game!!!" list

If there’s something I can agree with you on, it’s about tags. Yes, these are triggers, yes tagging is important, but let’s not forget that being in this community IS about being surrounded by triggers. out of courtesy sure, we should tag our stuff accordingly, but to go all out to say “omija, if you’re reading this, i’m going to pee in your mouth.” HOW. IS. THIS. ACCEPTED?! HOW

HOW THE FUCK PEOPLE WHO REBLOGGED THAT CALLOUT THOUGHT YES THIS IS GOOD?!!?!

now you said that Omija's making all of these seem cute and that’s the real problem. this is where you are sooo wrong and let me explain:

a round head doesn't instantly make everything cute. there are many many details that the human eye perceives as cute, things that artists go to when they want their art to be seen as cute. from the color chosen to the way their eyes and mouths are drawn, to the very line work they’re using. yes, shapes count too, but this is not the case and we should get out of our tiny box and see the big picture. Their comics are not meant to be cute, actually much respect to them for being brave enough to approach well known subjects that are not explored. But that’s it. If YOU see it as cute then it’s your problem really. Art and fiction is prone to interpretation

If anything, how much cute stuff we have in the community should be the anomaly, not that someone draws anxious Bubba

omija's Amanda and Bubba art is problematic! someone asks why, you: because is toxic!!!

really? I actually think that, given their individual personalities, omija portraits the ship’s dynamic really well. Amanda is not dealing well with her feelings and with humans and Bubba has problems understanding things in general. they are two deranged people finding a way to cope and to accept another human presence nearby. "Amanda is picking on a disabled person how can you say it's well!!!!" let me remind you that his entire family is picking on his disabilities and the fact that he loves but also FEARS his family is a big theme in Leatherface's story and personality

Also, another argument of yours was about “the power play” and how that’s problematic. I’m...honestly surprised you even thought of this argument because the entire slasher fandom, the movies, everything slasher related IS BASED ON POWER PLAY. Have you read what they wrote for Laurie/Michael to say the ship is based on power play and it’s wrong? No, me neither, cause I don’t care, but you seem to care enough to vomit about it. Go read some things and tell me how problematic the writing is, you need to call out writers too after all

Btw, surprise! I don't ship neither of the mentioned ships, but I can use my brain enough to see what omija does is actually well made and well thought, sick, weird in some instances, but well thought. kudos to you artist. I can also see those who ship Laurie and Michael are still nice people

But just like you and many others I have my own morals (do you now? Exposing yourself like that to NSFW content while so many people are scared for their life because of people like you? hmmmm) and I can’t really stand explicit pedophilia. I’ve read so many books or seen so many movies where it was mentioned, it’s a trigger factor, it’s taboo, therefore is normal to be used in darker works. It all depends on the circumstances and the way it is presented, cause it’s a piece of fiction. Nobody attacked George R. R. Martin for the controversial things he had written in his books right? I wonder why

Because, another surprise, fiction is different than reality and only this argument alone should be enough, but some monkey brains out there will come to scream at me how fiction affects reality. Someone who writes a murder mystery isn’t actually killing people when they put pen to paper. People who play shooter games do not wish to shoot people in real life. Someone who writes about rape will not welcome the rapist in their arms nor do they wish to rape someone. So on, it’s simple, again, we just need to use our brains.

If you have bullying-related or a family related or any thing related trauma and you see a Michael/Laurie fic or Quentin/Freddy or whatever other ships or subjects you have seen around, and decide to click on it, and then you have a negative reaction, that fiction is not harming you. Your unresolved trauma is harming you. Your decision to read something when you know it triggers you is harming you. The past actions of yourself and those who inflicted harm upon you are harming you. All of those things – your trauma, your real-life bullies, your actions ��� are real, and have the ability to harm you. (the italic bits are from @dracfics who said it better than I ever could put in words. Thank you)

next on your "who am I going to shit on today" is @renlvbon

not gonna lie, for the omija callout I read everything searching to see whenever you are right or not. I don’t personally know either of the artists but I could read enough to see you’re just a self entitled person with something to say regarding everything. for ren's callout I simply skipped after I saw your argument.

you're not doing gods' work by opening people's' eyes that they can or should portray the characters the way they are, disabled and gross. no, you're just picking on someone's art style

Can we stop this toxic nonsense???

don't get me wrong, I agree that we shouldn't make them supermodels and we shouldn't erase what they are, fucking ugly and gross killers, but saying people who don't draw them a certain way are cowards or calling them out or whatever else shit is TOXIC and ANNOYING. We all change them more or less, we have to because none of us are the original creators! We’re just thirsty people making them to be what we want and what we imagine because they’re fucking fiction

I’ve seen people agreeing with you saying the artist should consider real people with disabilities or on the heavier side (“like me” they pointed out). I’m so sorry if this comes out as rude but if you search or need validation in a horror community that’s not a good thing at all! Body positivity and a healthy approach to disabilities should. not. be. searched. in. a. horror. community or any community on tumblr for that matter. You want some positivity on that? In a real case scenario with them we all would die, no matter how you look like

Going back to the artists, some people don't have experience/ are insecure/ are uncomfortable drawing body hair or fat bodies or whatever. That doesn’t make them fatphobic or whatever shit I saw you writing in your tags.

Drawing a black character less than the color YOU think is good? Have you ever tried to color skin? There are so many ways to do it, there are so so many colors you combine and you play around with + lighting and shading that alters everything. and yeah maybe some people pick a different color, a lighter one, or a more yellow one than they should for asiatic people, or whatever. but these tones are NOT easy to get well (you can always put a brown color down and to call it a day, but maybe people won’t want that. They don’t want to be disrespectful, exactly cause there are predators like you that don’t know how to help, only how to fucking scream). Or maybe they simply don’t know how. Every artist has their own range of comfort zone, be it about subject - composition - colors - etc. I don’t do well with neon colors for example, it happens. Hell even the screen you’re using alters the colors

How about giving actual tips, support and explanations instead of rude call outs? And don’t come at me with the “color picker” shit cause color picker from a real life photo is hell and if you don’t know some color theory your art is going to look dull and lifeless regardless

The only time I can agree that whitewashing is wrong is when white-supremacy, nazi and other ugly shits like these are coming into the topic. But it’s not the case here

some young artists don't have the skill to draw certain body shapes, or body hair, or even a non-anime face. some others think putting a scar on the character’s face make them 'uglier' and ‘scarier’ and for them that's enough AND THAT'S ALRIGHT

drawing something that's supposed to be ugly but still having anatomy and proportions and a functionable mouth or eyes placement or whatever ISN'T EASY. ofc, you can go all out if that's what you want, but personally I want things to still be working because at the end of the day every single one of them is human. I'm not drawing dark fantasy in this fandom, I'm drawing slashers

NO ONE IS DRAWING FOR YOU. NO ONE IS USING THEIR SKILL TO MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD. art and writing, especially when is made in the free time of the creator, is made FOR THEMSELVES. If there are people enjoying it? Yay, that’s a win, but no one expects everybody on this planet to like what they’re doing. We’re getting back to that golden rule, DON’T LIKE: MOVE THE FUCK ON/ BLOCK AND LIVE YOUR LIFE. EASY. no one uses these unnecessary callouts for anything, if you have something to say do so kindly, if you can’t, just vent to your friends

So now let’s wrap it up cause IDK how many of you even make it through this point

can we fucking stop making young artists and writers cowards for drawing or writing how they can and however they fucking want? Please and thank you

this shit going on with "the best artist/writer for x y z character" or "conventionally drawing ugly Bubba uwu" will just destroy the confidence of whoever wants to keep drawing or writing or joining the fandom. There’s no competition who draws Bubba the ugliest nor who writes Michael the best. if you can do things a certain way, do it, and let the rest draw and write whatever they can WITHOUT FEARING THEY'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

now I'm waiting for your very "well" argumented reply but I hope you'll understand that what you're doing is TOXIC and you should stop or at least change your way to address things. You’re talking to other human beings, not a void when you can throw any random thought you have in the morning. I don't care about you to be honest, but there are so many people out there following your words mindlessly and the creators are suffering and it's not fair.

don't forget to tell me to go kill myself. have a nice day

[wolfpawn]

Life is a Game of Risks, Chapter 43

Chapter Summary - As Tom broached the idea of a holiday with Alexianna, they discuss other matters.

TRIGGERS - Past domestic abuse, Past emotional abuse, Past sexual abuse.

Previous Chapter

Tags: @damalseer​​ @hiddlesbitch1​​ @winterisakiller​​ @theoneanna​​

Request if you wish to be tagged

WARNING - this chapter will mildly reference past martial sexual abuse.

Tom was uncertain as to how to approach the topic of Lily's schooling with Alexianna, so he said nothing until he could think of the best possible time and way to bring up the subject. That said, it did not prevent him from getting the curriculum and the admission's form from the school, in case she would be willing to listen.

Alexianna had flown through her exams and was currently in the chair opposite him, as the relaxed after a busy day, choosing her modules for the following and final year of her course on her laptop. 'Lexi?'

'Hmm?' she did not look away from the screen as she answered him.

'I was thinking.'

'Seldom does that statement get uttered and what follows is not something to worry about.'

'What date is Lily finished for the summer?'

'The twentieth of next month.' she replied. When there was no sound out of Tom for a few moments, she forced her gaze away from her laptop to look at him, only to see him focusing ardently on his phone. 'Dare I inquire as to why you asked that particular question?'

'I am checking dates.'

'What for?'

'A holiday.'

'Tom....'

'No, please listen. Nothing mad, I swear. Just the Isle of Wight, for a week.'

'Tom, the Isle of Wight costs a small fortune, some sun holidays are cheaper than that place. I cannot afford it.'

'I would not expect you to.'

'Tom...' There was a stern warning in her tone. 'We spoke about this.'

'Look, Lexi, I want to treat you and Lily to a nice little breakaway. You won't take well to a foreign holiday, so I am not even going to entertain the idea of such.'

'We couldn't anyway, neither of us has a passport.' She interjected.

'You are getting that fixed in the near future.' Tom insisted. 'But, after everything and all your hard work, you deserve a few days of restaurant eating, sea air and relaxing. Think about it, think about how Lily would love it.'

In truth, Alexianna wanted to argue it. It would be expensive. The Isle of Wight was always a costly destination, add to that the fact it was summer, where accommodation tripled in price, she could not condone such money. But she also thought of Lily, who would love to go on an actual holiday, it was incredibly tempting. I'm not so sure, the ferry and accommodation alone will be bonkers.'

'Ben has a house there, he is giving it to us for nothing.'

'What?'

'My friend Ben, Ben Cumberbatch, he is letting us use his place there. He needs it checked on and Sophie is busy with a production and he has other stuff to juggle, so he asked if we were interested in a few days away in return for checking on it.'

'So this is not costing us for accommodation?'

'Correct.'

'Just the ferry, food and petrol?'

'Correct.'

'Okay, yeah.'

'I...You changed your tune.'

'Tom, my only concern was the cost. If it is not going to be overly expensive, then yes.'

Relieved that he was able to convince her to say yes, Tom did not press the issue further, for fear she would back out. 'Right, tell work that you are taking from the twentieth until the thirtieth of July off. We will celebrate Lily's birthday with my mum and sisters here and then we will pack off the next morning at silly o'clock and make an early crossing over.'

'You want me to take ten days off work?'

'You were saying last week you have all your holiday days still to use, you can take ten surely? Besides, you don't work weekends so that's only eight days and one of them is a recovery day after you return from the holiday, there's nothing worse than returning and being exhausted heading into work.'

'I can, but that's literally almost half of my yearly holiday allowance in one go.'

'Argue with me honestly, what else do you plan on doing with those days? If you have something genuine you are going to do, fine, but be honest, what is it you have them saved for?'

Alexianna looked at him for a moment but he held her gaze and she sighed, clicking into a new tab and emailing the HR department about it. 'I mean, they can hardly say no, I have not taken a day off sick or asked for time off since I started.'

Tom smiled proudly. It was true. The ridiculous stereotype of the "single mother being flakey" was in no way applicable to Alexianna, though she argued that with the manner in which he was involved as a father to Lily, she was not really a single mother. Him taking Lily for her prevented her from having to leave work early meaning she was able to give herself over more to whatever work she was doing. 'You deserve a few days off. If anything, this will help you with work, you will come back more refreshed and more able to focus on it. With everything with college too, no one deserves it more.'

'I cannot believe that I have another year down.'

'And to achieve a 2:1 with a daughter and a job as well. You are incredible, Lexi.'

'Up from a 2:2 last year. If this continues, I am at the risk of getting a 1:1.'

'The ball is in your court.' Tom smiled lovingly. 'It's all possible for you. I am here if you need me but it's you that has to do the donkey work really.' He groaned for a moment. 'When I think back on my degree, how the hell did I manage to pass it at all, much less with a 1:1, I was drunk half of the time and acting around the other half.'

'I dare say that that is something of an over-exaggeration.' Alexianna dismissed.

'Do you wish you had gotten your course finished?'

'I wish a lot of things about that time Tom, but the fact remains, everything then led to Lily, and everything then also led me to you.' Tom frowned. 'If I had not gone through all of that, I would not have been in that cafe last sure for you to come over and say hello to.'

Tom had to concede it was true. 'Thank goodness for Hamlet.' His smile fell. 'You would have still been in that little flat.'

'Perhaps, that is going under the assumption that I would have been with Jonathan even without the car crash and honestly, I don't think I would have been.' She pointed out. 'Everything happens for a reason. Because of how things were with us, Dan did not rush back on weekend leave from the rig and that is how he came to meet Anna.'

'Perhaps so.' Tom smiled. 'I just wish that you and Lily had not been forced to suffer everything you did.'

'We can't dwell on such things.'

'How are your sessions going, are they still helping you?'

Alexianna sighed, her counsellor, Mr Barrows had gone into areas of her life she was more than happy not to face, but he pointed out that there was little point in dealing with the smaller more inconsequential issues only to let the deeper, more painful ones go without being discussed. It would be somewhat optimistic to only unload the small stuff and expect big changes with all of that still there. The only issued was, she had been forced to acknowledge some painful truths and realities. One of which was that on more than one occasion in her marriage, she had declined Jonathan's sexual advances, only for him to force himself on her after she said no, ignoring her pleas for him not to. She had herself convinced that it was her "wifely duties" but in reality, she was being raped by her husband. She wept and was emotionally exhausted by that revelation. Tom was unsure of how he could assist her with that particular part of her therapy, he merely listened and ensured he was there for her. 'Yes, there are. I just...I am not always overly happy with what he digs up.'

'I can only imagine. You would not be there if it was going to be overly pleasant.'

'He wants to move onto Oliver in more detail soon.'

Tom frowned. Alexianna had no relationship with her father since she was a small child, not that you could say she had much of one with him before that either. 'What do you think of that?'

'I don't really think anything about it. I haven't since I was a child. '

'But didn't you say the issue with Lily and I was that you had a revelation that stemmed from that?'

'It does, but as I said, to the best of my knowledge, I think nothing of Oliver. I have no idea if he is even still alive. He could have remarried and have had seven other kids for all I know. All I do know was he sent the cheques for our schools, that and whatever we needed, that's it.'

'Perhaps then, it's a good thing to talk about him.' Tom suggested with a smile. 'But remember to tell Mr Barrows that you're away on those dates too.'

'Sure thing, Boss.' Alexianna smiled. I'm really looking forward to this now. I have not been on a holiday in years.'

'Did you go on a honeymoon?'

'Yes, Vegas.' Tom looked at her knowingly, Vegas was nothing like what Alexianna would call a holiday. She loved history and culture, not drinking and gambling. 'Not my idea. I was so "boring" on that trip, I was not brought anywhere fun after that, though thankfully, with where he chose as "fun" I didn't want to go anyway. When he left for the week, it was a holiday in itself for me.'

'He would leave you.....' she nodded. Thomas pulled her to him and kissed her head. 'I could never do such a thing. You know when I go that it is for work.'

'I know that and I would never begrudge you going if you went anywhere, Tom. You deserve a break too.'

'I cannot believe he did that to you. Did...When you were pregnant?'

'He went on a few then, his "Blow-out" before fatherhood apparently. What he didn't realise is I had seen him book a holiday for when "George" was going to be twelve weeks old. When I confronted him, he said that because he was working and there would be a lot of noise with the baby, he would need a few nights away to recoup.'

'That selfish....' Tom felt his anger rising. 'You deserved so much better.'

'That's why the piece of paper he wanted me to sign bothered me so much. My integrity was all I had.'

'I see now why you wanted it. I am so sorry I dismissed it.' Alexianna smiled at him. 'Can I ask, if Oliver never bothered with you both, why did he fork out for Headington?'

'I honestly don't know, but I am grateful he did.' She shrugged. 'I only wish I had done more with his investment and put it to better use.'

'Do you wish Lily was able to get that sort of education?'

'Yes, wouldn't any parent? But back then, the price was well over half it is today, seventeen thousand for a day student? No one can afford those prices any more.'

'If you had money, would you put Lily into a school like that?'

'If I had it, I would, yes. Sure there's an independent school just a stop before ours on the bus, part of me wishes she was going there, getting a good education, but where she is, we were so lucky to get her in.'

Tom took note of her words but said nothing about his inquiries to that exact school for that moment, knowing that that would be too much for Alexianna to deal with at once, but he felt hopeful that he could convince her if he broached it carefully. Part of him thought to contact Daniel, but he was unsure. Instead, he got back onto Ben regarding the house, though he did add a little comment at the end regarding it.

[sirius-archive]

Chaos Theory Part 10

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader, George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: Drug mention, swearing 

Word Count: 7732 (fuck me)

A/N: Right, guys. 7,732 words is the longest fic I’ve ever written. I can’t even rn...I’m so tired and I’ve been working like so hard on this chapter and Young gods I’ve stocked up on tequila and vodka lol so after the next two chapters are released I can have a fucking Fiesta !! Just an FYI things are gonna start getting darker now. Also, I know Luke is supposed to look different for everyone but I think I’ve deserved using a gif of Noah Centineo bc he’s so cute and i love him sm, and given that I’ve written about Luke’s birthday, I think he should claim the header for now. Anyway, here we go. Happy B’day Lukey :)

This chapter is dedicated to my sister, Mariana ‘Maia/Maui’ Tori - I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you always. RIP belle fiore 🥀 1996 - 2004

Chapter 10:

***

Friday, December 18th

***

The strange parcel arrives late at night with no return address.

You recognise the signature style all too quickly and your stomach curls in on itself, heart shuddering and throat constricting like a straw.

After weeks of silence, the mysterious sender is back again and it looks like they’ve upgraded from creepy photo to mysterious box.

It’s sitting on your bed like a plain, Pandora’s box, inviting you to open it and unleash a tempest of chaos. You approach it slowly, hesitantly, icy blood gushing through your crystallised veins like Antarctic waters travelling down the deltas of a cold-blooded monster. A part of you needs to see this; it could be clues, a lead, something that could aid you in this impossible investigation. But the other part of you is wary, perhaps even a little afraid, because you’re not sure if you’re prepared to face whatever is in this box.

Either way, you find yourself standing in front of it, peering down at the familiar scrawl written across the top, and you slice the string holding it together, gripping the lid and squeezing your eyes shut so you can muster up every single ounce of your Gryffindor courage, tearing the lid off and-

You gasp.

***

Thursday, December 10th

***

Unsurprisingly, news about the Yule Ball spread quicker than a wildfire, tangling the school in a sticky web of rumours and gossip.

It’s all Parvati, Padma and Lavender can talk about after your weekly Howler meeting, much to the dismay of Dean Thomas, who sits on the fringe of their conversation, looking equal parts exasperated and nervous while the girls whisper and giggle beside him.

You can’t exactly blame them. The Yule Ball at Hogwarts is combining two of the most whimsical events and squeezing them into one night. Celebrating Christmas while dressing up and dancing with your date? Of course, all the girls would be excited; it’s an excuse to dress up and spend the night with people you care about.

The boys, however, do not share the girl’s enthusiasm for the Ball. Flustered and nervous, a lot of the boys at Hogwarts have had difficulty approaching the subject of dates, since according to tradition, it’s their responsibility to find one.

Harry had been shocked when McGonagall told him that he would have to find a dancing partner after Transfiguration earlier today. As a Champion, he had no choice in the matter, which meant that if he didn’t find a partner soon, he’d risk embarrassing himself in front of the entire school.

Ron, too, was starting to grow anxious about who he would ask to the ball, and Hermione had become impatient with him. Honestly, you couldn’t blame her; she was the most obvious choice to ask, yet Ron continued to allow his obliviousness blind him from what’s right in front of him. Hermione had been tempted to slap both Ron and Harry around the head and point out that they didn’t have to look very far, but you had stopped her before she could. While it would be enjoyable to go with Harry, you were hoping to be asked by someone else...

A touch of worry pricks your chest. What if you don’t get asked by anyone? That was a possibility you hadn’t really considered, given that you had been clinging hopefully to the prospect of being asked by Cedric.

Though to be fair, both you and Cedric have been so caught up in school work and...extracurricular activities, you hadn’t even had an opportunity to talk to one another, let alone arrange a date. Still, you supposed that there was still just over a week until the Ball...plenty of time to arrange a date...

“-hoping for a new camera for Christmas, mine is looking a little shabby, though Noah says that’s okay as long as it functions properly,” Colin Creevey says, excitedly, rambling at a million miles per hour, “He doesn’t really talk that much, does he? But he takes really good photos. I wonder if he could take a photo of me and Dennis with Harry? That would be awesome! Though I do feel a bit sorry for him, I heard that his sister-”

Your mind drifts again, eyes travelling past Colin and spotting Dean in the distance. He waves you over desperately, a pleasing expression written across his face.

“-isn’t that sad? She was always really nice to me so when Professor Dumbledore announced that she had died last year, I was really quite shocked. Nice of Professor Dumbledore to pay his respects to her, eh? He’s such a great Headmaster, he’s made Dennis and I feel at ease-”

“-That reminds me!” You interrupt, hurriedly, “I have to quickly speak to Dean about...something that Professor Dumbledore wanted so I’ll just-”

“Oh, yeah?” Colin asks, cheeks dimpled and eyes wide, “That’s so cool! Dean is such a great artist, he’s going to go far. Hey, I wonder if Harry has seen any of his work. Maybe I should ask Dean to sketch a picture of me and Harry together? Do you think Harry would like that for Christmas? You’d know best, you and Harry are basically-”

“-Yeah, that’s great,” you interrupt, hastily, already walking away from Colin, “See you Colin!”

Colin waves cheerily at you and plods away, approaching Juniper and Daisy and launching into a rambling lecture. You bite your lip, guilt plucking your chest. He really is a sweet boy, little Colin Creevey, who has idolised Harry since Colin arrived at Hogwarts. Leaving him feels mean, but you have a feeling that he could chat to you about everything and nothing for hours on end and still not tire out.

Ignoring your guilt and Colin’s excited voice that carries across the room, you approach Dean, who looks grateful at your arrival.

“Excited for the ball?” You tease, arching a coy eyebrow and Dean sighs.

“I can’t concentrate with the girls gossiping beside me,” Dean groans, rubbing soothing circles into his temples.

You shrug, sliding onto his desk and toying subconsciously with a loose fabric on your skirt, “You got to admit though, it is pretty exciting. Rumour has it that Celestine Warbeck is going to perform.”

Dean rolls his eyes, “Pretty sure that’s still just a rumour.”

You give an exaggerated sigh, as though severely disappointed by this news, “Yeah. But it’d be nice though, right?”

Dean grins, “Oh boy, if that were true, I would be way more excited for this ball thingy.”

“I think everyone would be.”

“I don’t think it’s possible for the girls to be more excited than they already are.”

“Oh trust me, you’d be surprised.”

Dean snorts, studying you for a moment, his dark eyes glittering amicably, “I don’t suppose anyone’s asked you yet, have they?”

This time, it’s your turn to snort, “Oh, please Dean. I’ve been getting offers left, right and centre. I practically had to sneak my way here to avoid being swarmed by them all...” you pause for comedic effect, “...not.”

Dean chuckles, rolling his quill between his fingers, “Well, if you don’t get asked soon - which, I mean, you totally will get asked I’m not saying you’re not - I mean-you're pretty so I’m sure you’ll get offers - not that I think you’re pretty because - I mean - we’re just good friends - but I don’t think you’re ugly - you’re definitely not ugly I can tell you that right now - I mean -”

You raise your brows expectantly at him, smirking as you watch Dean sputter and stumble over his words. After another few seconds of spluttering, you finally decide to intervene, amused by his awkwardness.

“Dean Thomas, are you trying to ask me to the Ball?”

Dean averts his gaze, staring at his quill. The conversation beside you has gone quiet, the three girls pausing mid-sentence to eavesdrop on your conversation. Dean exhales a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes,” he mumbles, “I’m asking you to the ball. But as friends!” He adds, briskly, shooting a look at the girls giggling beside him, “And as a...um...Plan B...”

You smile warmly at him, his offer and awkwardness endearing. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you give him a subtle wink and beam at him.

“I would be honoured to have you as my Plan B.”

A burst of girlish giggles bubble into the air around you, cutting off Dean’s relieved chortles. Parvati and Lavender are both red-faced, hands clamped across their lips in a failed attempt to muffle their giggles. Padma, however, is grinning teasingly, glancing between you and Dean.

“Aw,” she gushes, reaching out to ruffle both yours and Deans hair, “You guys would be so cute together.”

“As friends,” you add, hastily, “Dean is my good ol’ pal and the best back up plan I’ve ever had.”

Dean clutches his chest through his shirt, “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

You frown at him, though you can’t stop the grin stretching across your lips, “I think you need to find yourself some new friends, then.”

Dean shrugs, “I suppose I do.”

As Padma and Dean begin to chat amongst themselves, you allow your gaze to drift away from their conversation, spotting Noah in the corner of the room. He’s bent over a desk, staring intensely at some photos, hands pressed flat against the desk in front of him. His aviator's jacket is too big for him; it swamps around his tall and lithe form almost drowning him in leather and wool.

You make your way towards him and lean against the desk, peering down at the photos in front of him.

They’re scenic landscapes snapped from various spots around Hogwarts, though they look incredibly different, enhanced even, as though you’re looking at places you take for granted through a different lens. There’s a photo of the Whomping Willow, the Courtyard, Hagrid’s hut and an excitable Fang. Noahs even made Blast-Ended Skrewts look more interesting than ugly killing machines.

“You’re a really good photographer, you know,” you murmur, smiling down at Noah’s photos.

“These are nothing,” Noah mutters, apathetically, “The camera that Maia gave me could make these photos look like they were taken by six-year-olds mucking around with a cheap Kodak.”

You bite your lip, ignoring the obvious Muggle reference (what in Merlin’s name is a Kodak anyway?) and consider Noah carefully, “I’m sorry about your camera.”

Noah shrugs, “It’s not the camera that I’m worried about...”

You think about resting a comforting hand on his, but decide against it.

“I’m sorry about Maia, too.”

Noah swallows thickly and turns away. He’s silent for a long time, and you’re afraid you may have overstepped your boundaries when Noah rasps a reply.

“What is it that they say? Time will heal the scars,” he whispers, as though trying to convince himself that it’s true.

You chew the inside of your cheek, hesitating for a moment, before carefully stringing your next words together.

“What was Maia like?” You ask, warily, “I only met her twice and she seemed really nice...”

A ghost of a smile plays across Noah’s lips, “She was...funny, she’d make me laugh even when I didn’t want to. And she could be feisty, Christ, she was feisty, and so bloody bossy. I guess that’s why she was the Hufflepuff and I was the Slytherin because she was happy and free-spirited and she...” Noah bites his lip, as though stifling a laugh, “...she used to cry whenever she listened to Cat Stevens. And she had this thing about collars - they always had to be folded back otherwise they’d annoy her. And photos, she loved photos but she couldn’t take one to save her life. They’d always come out blurry or dark or off centre and she’d always laugh...”

Noah pauses in thought, as though sinking into sepia-stained memories. He allows himself a tiny smile, “Maia always said that I’d be the photographer in the family. That was what she wanted for me. She was going to be a teacher and I was going to be a famous photographer.”

Noah blinks and averts his gaze, turning away from you.

“You were the first person who said that to me, you know,” he whispers, voice hoarse, “That night when Dumbledore...” he trails off, blinking hard. He turns back to you, black eyes shimmering with something you don’t quite recognise, and he’s close enough for you notice for the first time that he has a scar knitted into his left eyebrow, “Everyone else thinks I’m a weirdo or that I ki-“

Noah suddenly cuts himself off, as though in realisation. His expression flickers, anger suddenly shadowing his face, and he turns to glare angrily at you.

“Don’t- Don’t do that!” he snaps, pointing a shaky finger at you, and you frown at him, confused.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Make me tell you things about...” he blinks, black eyes glinting dangerously, “...about Maia and me and-and make it seem like you care when you don’t! You’re-you’re just like everyone else, like Delores and-and Malfoy and her stupid boyfriend and everyone who didn’t give a shit about Maia when she was alive!”

You try to reach out and pat him but before you can even touch him, Noah flinches, as though he’s expecting you to hit him. Red stains his cheeks in shame as he backs away from you, a distant touch of fear creeping into his eyes. He retreats hurriedly, nearly stumbling out of the door, and you try to follow him when someone catches your wrist.

You glance behind you, finding Troy’s wrist gently pulling you back. He looks both worried and sympathetic as he releases your wrist, fiddling with the paintbrush behind his ear.

“He needs space,” Troy explains, “Space and time. Noah strikes me as the kind of person who likes to keep things bottled up.”

You nod in understanding, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully, “Do you know who Delores is? Noah mentioned her just now...”

Troy hesitates, as though unsure whether it's his place to say. He concedes after a moment of silent deliberation, “Delores is Noah’s mother. Maia told me about her. They have a...troubled relationship-”

“His mother is a junkie who cares more about her current boyfriend and getting high than she does about her own kids,” Daisy drawls, bluntly, suddenly appearing at your side, “Maia used to ask me to keep an eye on him, make sure the other kids don’t bully him because he gets enough of that from home.”

“Oh...” you murmur, slowly.

“Yeah,” Troy says, staring at his feet.

An uncomfortable silence passes between the three of you as you stand in a circle, processing what had just happened. Daisy leaves as abruptly as she came, stalking across the room to Juniper’s side. Troy has his hands in his pockets, rubbing his shoes together before he smiles and nods at something behind you.

“I think you have a little visitor,” Troy beams. You spin around and grin, crouching down to welcome Nightshade into your arms.

“What are you doing here, B?” You coo, kissing Nightshade on her head. She rubs herself against your leg, tail curling in the air and she purrs and meows at you.

You scratch her ear, fingers grazing against her collar before you spot something folded inside her bell. Frowning, you carefully pull away a small piece of paper and you unfold it, nervously, hoping with all your might it isn’t related to the photo pinned to your investigation board and you stare down at it, taking in the familiar writing and you-

You smile, bite your lip, watching as dozens of tiny, red hearts shudder to life and flutter off the page like butterflies in the spring. You watch as they spell out words in mid air, tracing around invisible letters until they form a coherent sentence that reads, in unmistakable cursive writing;

Will you go to the Ball with me?

You laugh, recognising the style of it all, knowing the only person who is capable at something so sweet and romantic is-

“Will you go to the Ball with me?”

Cedric Diggory.

The heart butterflies scatter, fluttering away as though being carried away in a summer breeze. Cedric standing at the end of the hallway, grinning broadly at you. He strides toward you in smooth movements, one arm bent behind his back, beaming brightly, his blue eyes never straying from yours. A tiny laugh of disbelief slips from your lips as you smile, gazing lovingly at him until he stops right in front of you.

Cedric stretches out the arm bent behind his back, brandishing a cupcake with a giant, red love heart planted on top, holding it to his face as he awaits your answer.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, swept away by the dramatics, “Are-are you bribing me with food?”

Cedric chuckles lightly, “I knew that this would be the driving force that would compel you to come with me.”

“You must really want me as your date,” you murmur, a simpering smile curling graciously across your lips.

“More than anything,” Cedric whispers, gazing at you longingly. His blue eyes sparkle like sunlight dancing off the ocean. He’s absolutely mesmerising...

“Okay,” you giggle, suddenly giddy, “I’ll come with you to the Ball.”

Cedric sweeps you into his arms and twirls you around in a hug. You shriek a laugh as he lifts you off your feet, hands buried in his hair as he spins you before placing you gently on your feet. He grins goofily, eyes narrowing on your lips, hungry for a kiss you are all too willing to give him, and you reach up, wrapping your arms around his neck, guiding his lips onto yours until-

“Ahem.”

Troy clears his throat.

Cedric reluctantly pulls away from you as you crane your neck, suddenly remembering that Troy is there.

“I’ll...give you guys some privacy,” Troy mumbles, cheeks pink. He steps back into the Newsroom and closes the door and you turn back to Cedric.

“So...” you start, slowly, “Are we going to...?” You nod at the cupcake still in Cedric's hand. Cedric laughs.

“Oh,” He says, “Right.”

Nightshade meows, gazing up at Cedric with large, green eyes, staring at the cupcake longingly.

“I guess you deserve a treat or two,” Cedric says, crouching down to feed a piece of cupcake. She eats from his hand, carefully licking the tiny crumbs from his palm as Cedric strokes her head.

You beam at Cedric as you watch him affectionately scratch Nightshade, heart swelling like a balloon, suddenly understanding the excitement surrounding the Yule Ball and making a mental note to tell Dean that you won’t need a Plan B anymore...

***

Thursday December 17th 

***

You wake up early on the morning of Luke’s birthday, grinning from ear-to-ear.

As per the usual birthday tradition, you had picked out the most ugliest Christmas sweater you could find - complete with itchy wool and an unflattering turtleneck collar - and had wrapped it in embarrassingly bright wrapping paper. You can just imagine Luke’s face when he unwraps it; contorting in both disgust and amusement but holding it to his chest.

The rules were that he had to wear the sweater all day for the entire day, no excuses. Last year, McGonagall had been so unimpressed, she had nearly begged Luke to burn the sweater to a crisp and had threatened to send him to detention for the day if he didn’t.

But that wasn’t the only birthday tradition the Arden siblings had amongst themselves.

They also had to bake the worst tasting birthday cake with whatever they could find and dare each other to eat it. Once, you had baked a cake during the holidays using eggs, tomato sauce, flour, mushrooms, oats, sugar, spearmint and hot sauce and saved it for Luke’s birthday. When you had dared Luke to eat a slice, Luke, never one to turn down a challenge, had devoured the entire thing. He had then spent the next hour bent over a toilet bowl but, really, that was his own doing. You had only dared him to eat one slice, not the whole damn thing.

This year was no different; you have to keep to the Arden tradition and bake a disgusting cake. The problem is, you don’t know where the kitchens are. Last year, you had made it ahead of time and had preserved it using a cooking charm (perhaps that was why Luke reacted so...violently to it) but this year, you had been more preoccupied and less organised.

You make your way down to the Common Room, wondering how you’re going to sneak into the boy's dormitory and steal the Marauders Map when you suddenly run into a tall and firm figure.

“Woah,” you gasp under your breath, staggering backwards. A strong arm catches you by your arm before you can fall flat on your ass.

“Sorry,” George Weasley snickers, “I didn’t see you there; you’re kind of tiny, (Y/N). You’re definitely a tripping hazard.”

You scowl at him and rearrange your clothes, ironing your skirt with the palms of your hands.

“Anyone tell you you’re a class A asshole?”

“On many occasions, actually,” George grins, then shrugs, “Sticks and stones.”

“Whatever works for you,” you snip, a smirk tugging on the corners of your lips, “Anyway, what are you doing here so early?”

“We could ask you the same thing,” says Fred, sauntering toward you.

“I’m baking a cake for Luke,” you explain, grinning, “It’s his birthday and we usually bake each other really disgusting cakes and get each other terrible gifts. It’s kind of an Arden thing.”

Fred and George exchange a mischievous glance.

“Sounds like you need to head to the kitchens,” Fred smirks down at you,

“You guys know where it is?” You ask, hopefully, and Fred nods.

“Ready for a private tour?” George asks, grinning devilishly, his eyes shimmering and a thrill courses through you.

You beam at him.

***

The kitchens look like they’ve just crawled out of Hermione’s worst nightmares.

House-elves are everywhere; bustling around the large kitchens, looking harried but content as they buzz around the room. They work around you, occasionally rushing up to you to offer you various sweets and treats, practically imploring you with round orbs to enjoy their homemade delicacies.

You’ve learned that it’s better just to accept the cakes and cookies instead of politely declining, and you enjoy the ones you’ve gathered with Fred and George as you sit in front of a large oven, watching Luke’s cake swell inside of the cake tin.

“I’m surprised it’s actually baking,” George observes, nodding at the oven, “Are we sure that’s even a cake in there?”

“If it has flour, egg, milk and sugar, then it’s a cake,” you state, biting into a cookie and moaning in delight, “These cookies are to die for.”

“Right?” Fred marvels in agreement, “I mean, they’re not as good as Mums but they’re still pretty darn good.”

Your eyes flutter closed and a smile stretches across your lips as you chew languidly on another cookie, savouring the sweet flavour as it oozes onto your tongue. You hum in delight again as you begin licking chocolate off the tips of your fingers.

You open your eyes and catch George watching you with a strange expression on his face. He boldly maintains eye contact, something unfamiliar flashing in his pupils.

Fred glances between the two of you, intrigued, “I’m going to go take some of these to Lee,” he announces, standing and stretching.

You break away from George and watch him as he leaves.

“That was odd,” You note, frowning as the portrait door closes shut.

“Fred is a bit of an oddity anyway,” George shrugs, sliding closer to you, “How’s that cake going?”

You peer through the glass, studying the cake, “Honestly? I don’t know, though I want it to burn so I guess another twenty minutes or so.”

You turn back to George, whose scoffing down an incredible amount of cookies.

“So, you excited for the Ball?” He asks through a mouthful of cookies.

You grin uncontrollably, “Yeah, I am.”

“Found anyone to go with?”

“Yeah,” You slide your bottom lip between your teeth, “I’m going with Cedric.”

George stops cramming cookies into his mouth and swallows, forcing a strained smile onto his lips.

“Oh. That’s...good.”

You shrug meekly, trying not to appear as giddy as you feel, “Yeah. Are you going with anyone?”

“Uh-Harper Shacklebolt.”

You nearly choke on your laughter, “What?! You managed to convince Harper Shacklebolt to leave the Newsroom?”

George flashes a devilish grin, “Well, it wasn’t that hard. I just had to turn up the old Weasley twin charm and she was practically falling for me.”

You roll your eyes, chortling at George’s confidence, “Huh, interesting. Well, you might have some competition. Did you know Harper has a pen pal?”

“Is that so?” George arches an eyebrow, intrigued, “And who would that be?”

“Someone with the initials ‘O.W.’, which could only be-”

“Oliver Wood,” George’s lips break into a smirk, chortles slipping from his lips, “I can’t see that lasting too long. They’re both stubborn and passionate about other things. Wasn’t Harper and Luke a thing for a while?”

You bark a laugh, “Ha. Luke and Harper? Harper is so out of Luke’s league, he’d probably have to pinch his dick to make sure he isn’t dreaming.”

George laughs at that, and the sound travels through you, glowing in your chest and probing your own laughter to spill from your lips.

“Must have just been some silly rumours,” George shrugs, “By the way, I think his cake is burning.”

You turn back to the oven as smoke begins to bleed through the cracks in the oven, filling the air with a horrid, acrid smell.

“Yup, that would be about right,” You chortle, grinning, “He’s going to love it.”

***

Luke is on his way to the library when you spot him.

He’s pacing down the hallway, moving quickly, and you nearly have to break into a sprint just to catch up with him. It’s a little uncharacteristic, given that he usually saunters lazily but in a businesslike manner. Casual, but cool and composed. 

Today, he’s in a rush, taking long, deliberate strides and not giving you a chance to catch your breath as you struggle to catch up to him.

He rounds the corner, and you’re about to call out to him when someone else beats you to it, cutting you off with a thick, smokey accent.

“I vas beginning to zink you vere going to flake on me, Lukas!”

Kazimir Volkov strolls up to him, smirk like a sharp dash across his lips. He looks impressive and menacing, but Luke isn’t afraid.

Kaz stops right in front of Luke, eyes flashing with something both dangerous and alluring, as though he’s trying to assert his dominance but is also trying to seduce Luke into relaxation.

Luke stops, glancing around furtively. When he’s certain that no one is looking, Luke’s composure relaxes, steel melting off his shoulders like mercury. He greets Kaz like an old friend, nodding at him and flashing a charming smile. Curious, you press yourself against the wall, peeking out from behind it.

Luke leans forward, speaking in an undertone.

“I thought we agreed to talk in Russian?”

Kaz’s smirk broadens, “Why, you don’t vant anyone knowing zat Hogvart’s Golden Boy is up to no good?”

“Well, yeah,” Luke snips, a little impatiently, “I mean, it’s more about my sister than anything. If she knew…”

“She’d understand,” Kaz murmurs, then shrugs, “But if zat’s what you vant...”

Luke and Kaz begin covering in Russian, speaking rapidly. You furrow your brows, straining to listen to their conversation, but you never learnt Russian and they’re speaking too fast for you to pick up on any familiar sounding words.

Two words pop out from their conversation; you only recognise them because they are repeated by both Kaz and Luke; krov' Niks

Krov Niks…? What the heck is that supposed to mean?

Sighing, you’re just about to leave when Kaz suddenly retrieves something from the inside of his Durmstrang robes. You squint, leaning forward, spotting a small vial with black, glittering liquid inside. It resembles melted obsidian; sunlight bounces off small flecks of silver and gold.

Luke takes the vial and pockets it, nodding at Kaz in gratitude.

You flatten your back against the wall, thinking fast. What kind of potion could Luke possibly want that he couldn’t brew himself? What is he up to? And why does he have to keep it a secret when you’ve never let any secrets stand between the two of you–?

“Lulu!”

You jump, startled by Luke’s surprised voice, a fleeting look of panic flitting across his face. Your mouth flaps open, searching desperately for a good excuse, momentarily forgetting about the gifts in your hand until Luke’s gaze drops to them.

“Oh!” You bleat, nervously, “Oh I was…looking for you because I – uh – it’s your birthday and I wanted to give you your birthday presents…”

“Oh,” Luke says, biting his lip nervously, “Thanks.”

You hand him his sweater and cake and iron your clammy hands on your skirt, “Happy Birthday.”

Luke balances his presents on one hand and ruffles your hair with the other, “Thanks, (Y/N). I can’t wait to try what delicious, home-baked cake you conjured up for me this year.”

“Fred and George helped me whip it up,” you smirk, teasingly.

“Ah,” Luke nods, mirroring your smirk, “Well, then, it’ll be a masterpiece.”

Luke lassos you into a one-armed hug, pulling you to his chest, and for a moment, you forget about that strange vial in Luke’s pocket.

***

Friday, December 18th  

***

The last day of term ends with a gruelling test on Antidotes in Potions.

Fortunately, you had studied hard for this test; it was hard to do anything other than study when your best friend is Hermione Granger. But your hard work paid off in the end, earning you full marks from a somewhat sour Snape.

“I see you’ve proven to be worth more than just a pretty face,” Snape has grumbled, peering down into your cauldron after class, “All that time spent with Granger must have rubbed off on you.”

You had screwed your jaw shut in an effort to stop yourself from snapping back at Snape, knowing that your marks and House Points were worth more than any retort you could have possibly sassed back.

“Actually, Professor,” you grit, through a clenched jaw, “I was wondering if you could tell me about a Potion that…looks black with silver and gold speckles in it?”

Professor Snape frowns, evidently in thought. After a moment of silence, Snape speaks in his usual, oily tone, “Nyx’s blood. It’s a difficult potion to brew, used as both a narcotic and a healing potion. It also happens to be illegal in the United Kingdom.” Snape arches a thin, black eyebrow in suspicion, “Why would you want to know about Nyx’s blood?”

“Um…” you begin, cursing yourself for not stringing a proper excuse together, “Um, I–”

“Severus!” Hisses a sharp, accented voice from behind you. Snape’s black eyes travel past you and you follow his line of sight, finding Karkaroff at the end of it. Karkaroff glances between you and Snape.

“You may leave, Arden,” Snape drawls, sourly, dismissing you with a scowl. You nod, slinging your book bag over your shoulder and rushing out of the dungeons, exhaling a sigh of relief.

As they promised, Ron, Harry and Hermione are waiting outside for you.

“So, what did Snape want?” Ron pries, softly patting the top of your head. 

“Oh, nothing,” you sigh, “He just wanted to have a word with me about my Potion.”

“How did you think you went with that?” Ron asks, considering you curiously. You shrug.

“Well, I followed everything as per the instructions but it’s Snape so I’m not sure.”

You glance at Harry, who has remained uncharacteristically quiet for most of the day.

“How did you think you went, Harry?” You ask, loud enough to snap him out of his thoughts.

“I botched it,” Harry confesses, though he doesn’t seem too worried about it at all, “I don’t really care, though.”

“Well you should,” Hermione chides, loftily, “Potions is a core subject in our curriculum. If we don’t pass Potions, we lose a huge percentage of our end of year scores.”

“Which means Snape will look bad enough for Dumbledore to finally fire the git,” Ron mutters in your ear, grinning. You snort a laugh and nudge him in the ribs, earning a yelp of surprise.

“You’re trouble, Ronald Weasley,” you murmur back, snickering.

“Arden!”

You pause, Ron, Harry and Hermione stilling, too. A familiar prickle of agitation threads itself beneath your skin as you recognise the familiar voice and wheel around to face him.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” you practically spit, watching as Draco, Crabbe and Goyle saunter towards you. He’s sneering, but there is an indisputable touch of worry in his eyes.

“You,” Draco snips, “Alone without your little guard dogs to defend you.”

His cold, pale eyes dart between Ron and Harry. Ron steps forward.

“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Ron snarls, darkly, stretching out a protective arm as if to shield you.

“Funny, I didn’t realise you were her keeper,” Draco snaps, venomously, “Are you really that poor you have to start working for your friends, Weasel?”

Crabbe and Goyle snigger gleefully. You roll your eyes and tap Ron’s arm gently.

“I’ll be fine,” you coo, reassuring both Ron and Harry. They nod in unison.

“I’ll take your book bag,” Hermione offers, and you hand her your bag gratefully, “We’ll see you at dinner.”

You nod and watch them leave, forcing a soft smile onto your lips when Harry glances back at you over his shoulder. You turn back to Malfoy moments later, glowering at him.

“Okay, you’ve got me,” you snip, harshly, “Now, tell me what it is that you want?”

Draco glances behind him at Crabbe and Goyle and flaps a dismissive hand at them, silently shooing them off. They stump away, pushing past other students and knocking frightened First Years aside.

When he’s sure it’s just the two of you, Draco, takes a few steps toward you, bowing his head so he can catch your eyes, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“If it has something to do with Noah Underwood, I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, sternly, “The guy is going through enough as it is, he doesn’t need you to keep snooping around like he’s some sort of criminal-”

“-Will you go to the Ball with me?”

Your lashes flutter rapidly as you blink at Draco once, twice, again. His cheeks are beginning to flush an interesting shade of pink.

“What?”

Draco rolls his eyes, “Don’t make me ask you again, Arden, you heard me.”

You stare at him quizzically, bemused by his request. Why would Draco want to ask you to the Ball? Was this a prank? A joke? A trick question or a weird way to humiliate you? You frown at him, thinking hard, raking your eyes across every inch of his face and scrutinising him carefully in the low, flickering lights of the dungeons, mind sprinting through a million theories at once until-

Laughter bubbles up your throat on impulse and spills from your lips, echoing through the Dungeons.

Draco blinks, taken aback. 

“Very funny, Malfoy,” you chortle, sighing, and Draco glowers at you.

“This isn’t a joke, Arden!” Draco snaps, angrily.

Your laughter dies on the tip of your tongue when you realise he’s serious and you scoff in cold indignation.

“Why would I want to go to the Ball with you, Draco?” You spit, coldly, venom dripping from your words, “You seem to relish in bullying me and my friends, particularly Harry. So give me one good reason why I should even consider coming with you when all you are is a jealous, spoilt and arrogant bully with a chip on his shoulder.”

Draco’s eyes glimmer like light bouncing off the tip of a blade. He opens his mouth then closes it, working around words he doesn’t want to say, doesn’t want to give a voice to, before he works his jaw and flares his nostrils and twists his lips into a frown.

“Never mind,” he snarls, bitterly, “I shouldn’t have bothered asking someone who parades around Potter like some loyal, little bitch.”

Before you can give him an angry retort, Draco storms away, fists clenched at his sides as though he wants to smash something.

Who are you kidding? You want to smash something.

Perplexed and incensed, you march out of the Dungeons and make your way toward the Great Hall for dinner, wondering what the fuck just happened.

***

After dinner with Hermione, the pair of you wander back to the common room, in which you explain everything that had happened with Malfoy earlier. Hermione had struggled to contain her gleeful giggles as she listened, which was as infuriating as it was embarrassing.

“Malfoy fancies you, (Y/N),” she manages through a bout of giggles, “That’s why he asked you. He’s always had a soft spot for you.”

“Oh don’t be so silly!” You dismiss her with a slap to her shoulder, “Malfoy was probably just mucking around.”

“But you said-”

“I know what I said,” you snip, warmth creeping up your neck and spilling across your cheeks, “But Draco Malfoy does not fancy me!”

Hermione bites down on a grin, swallowing the rest of her giggles and slinging an arm across your shoulders, “Whatever you say, (Y/N).”

You and Hermione reach the portrait of the Fat Lady and find her laughing boisterously with her friend, Violet. They both look rather tipsy in their tinsel crowns, faces flushed and words slurred.

“Fairy Lights,” you utter, speaking loudly so that she can hear you over Violet’s loud cackles.

“Aren’t they jus - hic - Magical,” the Fat Lady sighs, and you and Hermione exchanged an amused look as she swings open, admitting you into the common room.

You and Hermione climb through the portrait hole, entering the dim common room and spotting Harry, Ron and Ginny sitting by the fire.

“There they are!” Hermione says, pointing at the two snickering boys and an irritated-looking Ginny.

“Why weren’t you two at Dinner?” You ask, curiously dropping into a seat beside Harry. The two boys don’t seem to hear you, your voice drowned out by their laughter.

“Because - oh shut it, you two - because they both just got rejected by girls they asked to the Ball!” Ginny snaps, shooting a particularly nasty look to Ron and Harry.

You snort a laugh, slapping a hand across your mouth to smother your giggles as Ron glares at Ginny.

“Thanks a bunch, Ginny,” Ron grumbles, sourly, cheeks red beneath his freckles.

“All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?” Hermione snips, smirking bitterly, a touch of sardonic insolence in her tone, “Eloise Midgen starting to look a great deal prettier now isn’t she? Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone somewhere who’ll have you, it serves you right for being so snotty.”

Usually, Ron would snap back with something snappy. But Hermione’s snide remark seems to slide off Ron, who’s staring at the two of you as though a certain realisation had just dawned on him.

“Hermione, (Y/N), you’re both girls-”

“-Oh well spotted,” Hermione barks, coldly.

“You guys can come with us! Hermione can come with me and (Y/N) can go with-“

“I can’t,” you and Hermione both snap at the same time. You both exchange a glance.

“Why not?” Ron says, impatiently, “Look, Harry and I are going to look really stupid if we don’t find partners - especially Harry-“

“I - we - can’t come with you,” Hermione interrupts, blushing furiously, “Because we - I - am already going with someone!”

“No you’re not!” Ron says, scandalously, “You only said that to get rid of Neville!”

“How dare you, Ron?!” Hermione seethes, her eyes glinting dangerously, “How dare you think that, just because it takes you three years to notice, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!”

Ron gaped at her in disbelief, before his shock melted into a grin.

“Ok, Fine, you’re a girl we get it. Now will you come with us?”

Hermione springs to her feet, fists shaking at her sides, “I told you already that I’m going with someone else, and if that’s so hard to believe I suggest that you get over yourself!”

Hermione storms away angrily, stomping up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

“Now look what you’ve done!” You snap, glowering at Ron, “She wasn’t lying!”

Ron shakes his head, “Who is she going with then?”

You fold your arms across your chest, glaring at Ron angrily, “She obviously doesn’t want you to know, so I’m not going to tell you.”

Ron rolls his eyes and sighs, “This is getting stupid, Ginny can go with Harry and (Y/N) can come with me-”

“-No, Ron, weren’t you listening?” You snip, icily, “I’m already going with someone.”

You leap to your feet and march toward the winding staircase, intent on pursuing Hermione.

“Wait!” Harry calls out and you pause, wheeling around to face him, “Who-who are you going with?”

You hesitate, biting down on your bottom lip hard before unfurling it, “Cedric. I’m going with Cedric Diggory.”

Not waiting to see their reaction at this news, you spin around and scale the winding staircase, an uncomfortable warmth soaking your cheeks. Why did Ron have to be such a giant prat? He could be so incredibly mean to Hermione at times and completely oblivious to everything around him.

You come to a stop outside of your dorm and knock gently, cracking your knuckles against the wood of the doors.

“Hermione? Can I come in?” You ask, softly, carefully.

“You’d better,” says Hermione’s voice from behind the door, all traces of her anger having already left her voice, “There’s-there’s something here for you...”

Frowning, you pull open the door, spotting Hermione standing in front of your bed.

“Why? What is it-?”

You pause, your words forming an uncomfortable lump in the middle of your throat.

A strange box is sitting on your bed, practically screaming trouble.

“Someone must have brought it up here,” Hermione deduces, studying the box carefully, “It would have taken at least three owls to send it...”

You recognise the signature style all too quickly and your stomach curls in on itself, heart shuddering and throat constricting like a straw.

After weeks of silence, the mysterious sender is back again and it looks like they’ve upgraded from creepy photo to mysterious box.

It’s sitting on your bed like a plain, Pandora’s box, inviting you to open it and unleash a tempest of chaos. You approach it slowly, hesitantly, icy blood gushing through your crystallised veins like Antarctic waters travelling down the deltas of a cold-blooded monster. A part of you needs to see this; it could be clues, a lead, something that could aid you in this impossible investigation. But the other part of you is wary, perhaps even a little afraid, because you’re not sure if you’re prepared to face whatever is in this box.

Either way, you find yourself standing in front of it, peering down at the familiar scrawl written across the top, and you slice the string holding it together, gripping the lid and squeezing your eyes shut so you can muster up every single ounce of your Gryffindor courage, tearing the lid off and-

You gasp.

Oh.

“What is it?” Hermione asks, mincing hurriedly to your side.

“Oh,” she gasps, “Let’s-Let’s take it out.”

You do, pulling it from the box and holding it out in front of you. Hermione gasps again, raising a hand to cover her mouth.

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, lips breaking into a smile.

You couldn’t agree more.

The dress is dripping with soft flowers and thin, curling vines, like gold veins running beneath ivory skin. The tulle cascades in soft waves to the floor, flowing through your arms like water. It’s elegant, dainty, feminine and incredibly expensive.

Hurrying to the full-length mirror, you hold the dress to your body, admiring how the style compliments your complexion. White diamonds wink at you from the centre of the dozens of flowers planted on the fabric.

“There’s a note, too!” Hermione exclaims, handing you a folded piece of parchment. You carefully take the letter from her outstretched hand, unfolding it with a smile.

My Dearest Belle Fiore,

Your mother once said that you were the ‘fiore of her life’, and she was right. You were the fiore of her life, and I have watched you blossom into the beautiful rose you are today. I couldn’t be more proud of the young woman you have become, and I will always be proud of you until my dying breath.

I know your mother would want you to wear this to your first ball; it was her wedding dress. But now, it’s yours, and I’ll know you’ll treasure it as much as the beloved bracelet she bestowed to you.

I wish I could see you in it but, unfortunately, the Prophet demands my time and energy. But I know you will be the most beautiful fiore in the entire garden, with or without this dress.

I love you now and always,

Papa

You blink through tears, clutching the letter tightly in your hands.

Your mother had worn this dress; her hair had flowed over it, her skin had warmed the delicate fabric and her wild and boundless heart - that heart that could swallow the world -  had hummed beneath it like a hummingbird in her chest.

You clutch the dress a little tighter, embracing it, feeling a new kind of warmth gush through you like butterbeer and sunlight. Its as though your mother is hugging you back, holding you to her chest so you can listen to her hummingbird heart one last time.

In that moment, it’s as though your mother is alive again. 

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @theseusscamandcr @depressed-octopods-art  @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl117 @asofslytherin @seunlight @thebesteleganttrashyouseen @elsie2018 @polkadotfairyposts @hylianhighlander @dracosdoves @siriuswitches @bernadineisreborn @lousimusician @randomoutsiders @smolldork @danidomm @xrosegoldwolfx @ashkuuuu @sly-vixen-up2nogood @reimiwritrs @tchalland @lucifersnipnips @ notorious-fiction @peppermintspecks @sleep-i-ness @reducto-bitch

[harrypotterandthefandomaccount]

Never Caught A Feeling This Hard

request: Can you write a Snape x hufflepuff student scenario when idk(female) reader hates him and she just tries to ignore his attitude but when he once again takes points from her house, she just snaps at him. And she leaves the classroom and tries to ignore him as long as possible. Please make it really angsty and sad cause I love having my heart broken. But a fluffy ending x3 if you're comfortable I'd appreciate a heated kiss but if you're not then a confession from both parties is ok☆

Summary: while your almost an expert at potions, your friend Y/F/N isnt that bright with the subject. When Professor Snape yells at your friend and takes points away from their house, you being a Y/H, stand up to Snape and tell him off. Flabberghasted at your outburst, he only follows you with his eyes as you storm out of the classroom. While Y/F/N thanks you, they say Snape requested to see you. Embarrassed at your show in front of the class, you refuse to see him and change your seat to the back with Y/F/N. When Yule Ball comes around, your last one ever at Hogwarts, Snape decides its the right time to approach you. Feelings are revealed with angst but happy ending.

note: yuhh another posty lyric, this was a request so dont hesitate to send some in! im sorry this is a bit late, i got a summer sickness/cold and ive slept the entire day away. anyways, enjoy!

warnings: ill come back to this when im done, like one curse word and teacher x student relationship

6-28-18

-

Grabbing your potions textbook, you and Y/F/N made ways to Professor Snape’s classroom. Throughout your years, even before coming to Hogwarts, potions had become your best subject and some even told you that you were better than Hermione. She had even been amazed at your brewing skills.

You friend Y/F/N, on the other hand, wasn’t as gifted with potions as you were. However, her charming skills superb. But with Snape being such a hard-ass teacher, it was tough to get help or even a ‘good job’ from the man.

Heading into the classroom, you and Y/F/N sat up front as always. You had always liked sitting front and center, wanting to show you teachers you were there to learn. You assumed it was because you were a Y/H.

Snape swiftly walked into the classroom, shutting the windows behind him. Today was like any other day, except he mentioned the day before that your class would be learning a tougher potion; Veritaserum.

Walking up to the front of the class, everyone got quiet. Snape nodded, ”if you listen carefully to today’s lesson. . .I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

At that, you let out a snort of laughter. Snape met your eyes and a small smile formed, gone as quick as it appeared. The professor then turned his attention to the class, telling them what to grab and to open their textbook pages to 394.

Glancing to Y/F/N, you smiled, “I’ll get your book ready and you can get both of us ingredients, yeah?” They nodded, writing down the ingredients and rushing off to get them.

Coming back, you grabbed your own ingredients from your friends shared part of the table. “Thanks for getting them Y/F/N,” you said, making them nod to you.

Reading the book, you set your cauldron to the required heat and crushed some ingredients together. After waiting a few minutes, you put in the materials and stirred, waiting for the potion to turn green. You noticed Snape walk past your table and tap against a vile of liquid, then tapping your arm. Letting out an “ahh,” you put the vile in.

Next was kind of a blur. A tiny explosion next to you had occurred and the sound hurt your ear. Y/F/N laid on the floor, rubbing their head. “Hey,” you said, rushing to their side, “you ok?” They nodded, “yeah. . .I don’t know why that happened?”

You pulled them up to their chair again, “doesn’t matter as long as you-”

Snape had slammed his hands on the desk, “what the hell were you thinking?”

You friend retreated back, “I-I’m sorry sir, I h-honestly don’t k-know what I did wrong.”

The professor scoffed, “of course you didn’t, you ignorant child. 10 points from Ravenclaw.”

You scowled, “sir! They made an honest mistake, we all do! Any other student here would have made the same mistake, so leave them alone. You never have any consideration for any os us; we are learning this class, not experts. Some excel more than others, but we all are experiencing this for the first time. So please sir, lay off.”

With that, you grabbed your bag and shuffled out of the room, leaving a wake of wide eyes behind you. Snape followed your figure with his eyes, unable to believe that you, his favorite student, had just caused a scene by picking a fight with him. He grumbled when you left, “get back to work.”

After your outburst at your favorite professor, you decided to head back to the Y/H commonroom. You failed to notice that class had ended and Y/F/N walked into the room. “Hey,” they started, “I’m not supposed to be in here but thanks for sticking up to Snape. I appreciate it. . .but he told me to tell you that he wants to see you.”

You nodded, “right, well. .no probelm, Y/F/N. He was being so out of line. Though I’m not sure if I want to face him. Thanks for telling me, though.” They nodded their head and walked out, going to their next class. You assumed you should get to class, too.

The next day, you had potions first which made you happy but also very gloomy. You were getting the worst class over and done with, but first of the day? Pass. Heading into class, you grab Y/F/N’s hand and drag them to the way back before Professor Snape walks inside. Pushing your hair to the side, you hide your face and rest a hand on the side of your head when Snape walks by you.

You and him did not look at one another the entire class, only focusing on your new potion to make;  Amortentia the love potion. You and Y/F/N already knew it was an easy class, having made the potion aside from class before.

You both did everything right and Snape added 5 points to each of your houses for having been done first. You didn’t give the professor a second glance, just nodding at his words of encouragement. Y/F/N gave you a small smile, but continued to write down notes for a reminder of what different potions consist.

Finally, it was the night of the Yule Ball, your last one ever. Cedric Diggory asked you to be his date and of course you said yes. Grabbing Y/F/N and some other Y/H pals, you wandered through Diagon Alley and past Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, waving to Fred and George from outside. They waved for you to come inside and you sighed but smiled.

The twins went up to both sides of your face, each giving you a kiss on the cheek, “hello gorgeous!” You laughed, “hello, hello. Now what do you hooligans want?”

Fred handed you a bottle of Amortentia as him and George talked, “a bottle of love,” George then whispered, “for Professor Snape.”

You jumped back and let out a fake laugh, “ha! As if. . .seriously though, what do you want?”

The twins looked to one another then back at you, “no joke, little lady. We’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Just then, Ron came up to the brothers and you on the stairs, “how much for this?”

Fred and George looked at the item, “5 gallons.”

Ron chuckled, “how much for me?”

With that, the two taller boys nodded again, “5 gallons.”

You let out a laugh as Ron looked offended, “Y/N! But, I’m your brother.”

Fred and George shrugged, “10 gallons.” The twins then walked off, leaving Ron confused and you staring at the love potion in the bottle.

Getting your dress, you decided on a long red sleeveless dress which had light ruffles at the bottom and small parkles over it. There was a bow that went across the middle and you fell in love.

It seemed different putting it on, having the potion given by your favorite twins in your bag. You pulled it out and sniffed it, noticing it smelled like Professor Snape; bitterness and old shoes with a spiff of charcoal. Appealing, really.

Walking into the ball with Cedric, he hooked his arm with yours. You smiled at each other and he kissed the top of your head like a good friend would. Throughout the night, you both stayed together until you went off to go to the bathroom. However, before you could reach the bathroom, a hand pulled you behind a large column.

You gasped and your eyes met anothers; Severus Snape’s. You furrowed your brows, “professor? What?”

Snape pulled at your waist and rested a hand at the side of your head, “you. . .pest! You’ve infested my head with images and thoughts of you, just you, and I cannot stop.”

Your eyes squinted at Snape’s words, “what the hell! Wha - what do you mean. . .Severus?”

The professor’s eyes wandered along your face, stopping at your lips, “I. .I love you. And you’re my student. Stay after the party, I want to see you again.” With that, he walked away and left you by the column. You headed back to your table with Cedric and spent the night with him until he decided to head to bed.

“Goodnight, Y/N. . .thank you for being my date,” Cedric said, making you smile.

You gave a bright smile as you kissed his cheek, “thank you for asking me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Every person had left by now, Professor McGonagall saying her goodnights to you. Smiling, you saw Snape appear out of the shadows, “may I have this dance?”

You nodded, “of course.” Snape offered his hand and you accepted it, standing up and resting a hand on his shoulder and his on your waist. Your other hands joined together, dancing together.

After dancing to the sound of nothing, you both stood by the window, looking out among the land of Hogwarts. You smiled at Severus, “it’s a perfect night. . .for us.”

Snape gripped your waist, kissing your cheek lovingly, “it is, indeed. I wish we could have this. . .forever.”

You looked up at him, glancing at his lips, “we can. When I graduate, it won’t matter.”

He rubbed his thumb along your waist that was covered by the dress, “you could have someone your age, who you desire.”

Putting a hand to his cheek, you shifted his face towards yours, “you are all I desire, Severus. Only you.”

He leaned down, capturing your lips with his, “if that is what you desire, so be it.”