#PLS GEORGE WINDS

[babybells123]

No but you don’t understand . I need Jonsa to be a tangled mess of depravity and tenderness. Grief haunting them - the ghosts of their past connecting them in some irrevocable way, because perhaps that’s the only way they know how to bond - initially, at the very least. Estranged but bursting with love but not knowing how to show it because ‘we were never close.’ But Sansa used to teach me courtesy, and Jon used to sneak me lemon cakes when no one was watching. I love you so much but I feel as if you’re a stranger to me and I don’t know how to change that. Do you wish it was arya who walked through those gates or I should have been a better brother to you, I should have ridden north for you. Please just let me hold you in my arms until our hardened hearts soften again. Until something ineffable develops. And to their horror, they realise this raw and fresh and beautiful (damaged) bond that they have created. And then comes the angst. The yearning. The unspoken words. Religious disillusionment. Inadequacy. Shame shame shame. Understanding slowly burning brighter, until they realise how similar they actually are and oh my god , you were there the whole time and I never even realised. But she was radiant and glowed brighter than any star in the sky, how could I not ??? Now give me your hands and I’ll kiss your fingers one by one, I’ll gentle each tip the way you’ve deserved. And I’m here, I see you. I’m not leaving, but gods am I a vile being. Look at how this world has corrupted me.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

This fandom has a disturbing sense of entitlement when it comes to GRRM and his remaining two books. There’s this horrifying lack of empathy towards this man and it’s genuinely scary. People expect him to be like one of those elves from Harry Potter: he just has to turn his magic on and churn out brand new content, who gives a fuck what is going on in his life? Let me remind the audience that this is a guy in his 70s! Yes, he’s rich. But age and its complications bow to nothing. Not to mention that even if his age wasn’t a factor, he could still be dealing with a lot of mental distress that ANY human would? Do you know how deranged you have to be to say that he cannot be affected by losing a close friend? That he, and his writing, cannot be affected by the state of the world? This is a man whose core thesis statement in his work is, “I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples and bastards and broken things”. One of the core protagonists in this series has dedicated her entire arc to fighting institutional slavery. One another protagonist has spent five books unlearning bigotry and trying to reform institutions that operate on it. ASOIAF fictionalizes real world issues. And to get there, GRRM has to take note of it and then make commentary on it. Like do people listen to themselves??? What is wrong with this fandom dear god…

[strangerlittlethings]

I wouldn’t drink today but god how much I miss brienne and Jaime

[souredfigs]

Oh Hello ! welcome home, Lord Commander Jon Snow

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

literally so done with rhaegar antis at this point. we know practically nothing about this character besides all the good things other characters say about him and the fact that robert baratheon hates him and says things about rhaegar that ned disagrees with. and robert baratheon is a pos so being hated by him only does favors for rhaegar’s character imo.

but somehow all these characters who think well of rhaegar are just lying. even though almost all of the characters who have spoken/thought well of rhaegar come from different families and have different allegiances. make it make sense. explain it to me like i’m five. what do jamie and ned have to gain by thinking positively about rhaegar? what about jorah? and barristan?

seriously. stop with the “prophecy obsessed freak” and the “rhaegar was mad” bs. none of this is supported in the books.

for 1) the prophecy is real! this is a fantasy series! and it’s very likely that jon snow (his likely son) is one of the azor ahai/prince that was promised figures! the other completely certain azor ahai figure is his own sister! so yes this prophecy seems to be centered around rhaegar’s family.

2) rhaegar being “mad” is not supported whatsoever. prophecies and magic are very real in asoiaf. so believing/trying to figure out prophecies is not an act of a madman. if anything, we should praise rhaegar for having the foresight to be actively concerned about this world ending threat! he was right. and one mention, if not the first mention, of the song of ice and fire comes from a vision in the house of the undying… from rhaegar. please remember what the title of this series is…

now, it is fair to criticize rhaegar for how he treated elia at the tourney at harrenhall. he was wrong there and that was a terrible thing to do to elia. however, saying that rhaegar was awful to elia throughout their whole marriage is not supported. and saying that rhaegar was awful to his children is not supported at all.

also, getting angry at a fictional character for needing a son to secure the succession to the throne is hilarious, especially since it was necessary for not just rhaegar, but also for elia to secure their own positions at court. they both needed a male heir, but elia needed to have a son more than rhaegar to secure her position. so why are people so mad that rhaegar and elia had aegon? andal tradition says that a son comes before a daughter and a daughter before an uncle… but aerys had viserys to threaten rhaegar with because aerys was king and had the power to change the succession. having aegon was very important for both rhaegar and elias futures and protected rhaenys position as well. just look at what happened to alys karstark when all of her male brothers were gone. she was almost usurped by her uncle. do you really think aerys would let the throne pass to a girl? aerys??

anyways, we don’t know enough about rhaegar and elias relationship to actually make any concrete statements about them, but, from danys house of the undying vision of rhaegar and (likely) elia, their relationship seemed fine and they seemed open with each other. not every marriage of duty ends in nedcat and five kids, but their marriage was clearly far from the robert and cersei nightmare.

another thing rhaegar antis love to harp about is how he is a pedophile. i’m literally so sick of it. rhaegar, someone who seemingly struggled with some form of depression, finally found some joy outside of a marriage of duty. the author himself called rhaegar a love struck prince. ned never thinks ill of rhaegar, even though if the stories robert baratheon would have us believe were true then ned would be the first character who thinks rhaegar is some sort of monster. but ned doesn’t. back to the pedo argument… anyways i have issues with the age gap as well. but i know where to lay my criticism. with george. he’s weird about ages and it pisses me off. however, i won’t let this change the way i see a character, especially since westeros doesn’t have any age of consent laws.

god just criticize george already.

but to be clear, rhaegar, a tragic character who died trying to protect his family, who’s daughter hid underneath his bed for protection, is not some monster. he was born in grief, lived in grief, found some joy, and died whispering the name of the woman he loved. that’s sad. and it’s horrible that he’s blamed for his family’s deaths even though he fought and died trying to protect them. and then robert baratheon sat on his throne and drunk and whored the realm into debt. thank you mr. boar. and good riddance. cersei slayed with this one.

now if you want to blame someone for the war and what came after, then blame aerys for his cruelty. blame brandon for his foolishness. blame robert for his warmongering. blame tywin for his monstrous actions. blame gregor and amory for their terrible violence.

stop blaming the guy who died trying to protect his loved ones.

and tbh, we literally have so little knowledge of what happened before the rebellion and after harrenhall. we just don’t know what happened between rhaegar and lyanna besides what george has told us and whatever small scraps we get in the book. we don’t know if it was a rash decision or if there was some plan in place when rhaegar and lyanna ran off. we just don’t know.

so please stop treating your headcanons like canon facts. especially when your headcanon isn’t supported anywhere in the books! it’s so tiring to see! i get it! you hate this character! whatever! but stop acting like what you’re saying is canon!

rhaegar is simply a ghost haunting the narrative. but his legacy lives on in dany and (likely) jon. and both of them are saviors fighting the good fight. and based on the descriptions we have of rhaegar, i can say that he’s likely very proud of his sister and son.

[ratcorvo]

oh daenerys stormborn the bisexual woman that you are…

[thepigeonsfanart]

I think we should do with George R R Martin the same thing Victor Hugo's wife did to get her husband to write: get all his clothes away so he can't go outside

[philippeducdanjou]

IM NOT A MONARCHIST IM A BERTIE ENJOYER

[twinge-of-cosmicangst]

Daenerys Targaryen has had the shits for the same amount of years as her age in AGOT. If TWOW doesn’t come out in the next year and a half, Dany will have had the shits for half of her existence.

[yaneznayunichego]

Today I finished reading adwd and twow’s sample chapters (it was my first time and I was soooo slow, hoping hoping hoping…)

Now all I have is wait for George to finish the books book

So sad and empty and lonely now……. (but thanks I did not read these all 10 years ago)

[kemihaydeestantonva]

Since the A Song of Ice and Fire community seems really cool and active on Tumblr here's some audiobook practice I did a while back from one of George's winds preview chapters!

[ilynpilled]

[winnie-the-monster]

I’ve been waiting 12 years for the Winds Of Winter to come out. 😭😭 and who knows how much longer I’ll have to wait for that

you ever wait nine years for a single book? because same.

[lewkwoodnco]

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with the song London Boy. Where the reader is from Europe, and she just moved to London to become a better ghost hunter, but she gets rejected at Fittes and other agencies. Then she finds out about Lockwood&Co. and goes to a job interview and gets hired. Since she's from Europe, she has an accent, and like she doesn't always pronounce words right, Lockwood loves it and finds it adorable. As she lives with all of them, they start becoming closer. She and Lucy become like best friends. And from the whole start, when she met Anthony, she was crushing on him and he would often call her darling and love, because for him it's normal, but she would literally be running laps in her head. Lucy notices all of this and teases them about it. Happy ending with them confessing and kissing? As always, you can change it so it suits the song more, I really love your writing, and it never disappoints!!

Lockwood x Reader - London Boy

A/N: While I was researching possible words to mispronounce whyy did I find out that I was pronouncing one of them wrong this wholeee time AHHH also why was it so hard to find a gif where he's smiling. Netflix pls renew the series to give him more screentime where he doesn't look like he wants to dies plzzz. also this starts with a letter written by the reader to her sister a week after moving to London, 3.1k, enjoy!!

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope things are fine over there. London is...interesting. It's very cold and wet, for one. I always feel like I'm one gust of wind away from catching a cold, but a friend took me shopping a few days back, and I've got a much warmer coat now. You'd love Lucy, she's got your sense of humour and everything.

Things didn't work out so well at Fittes. Or Rotwell. Or any of the other agencies I had shortlisted. I'm at a small independent, Lockwood & Co. There's only four of us and Mr. Lockwood's only a year older than me (a misnomer if I ever saw one, I thought he'd be closer to eighty than eighteen), but they get by just fine and I'm learning loads.

Part of me still wonders if I made the right choice by leaving. I wish I was home; warm, dry and safe. I miss the fields, the bonfires, the cheap juice boxes... miss you and mum to bits. Give her all my love.

"Writing a letter?"

She slammed a hand over her postcard with an aggressiveness that shocked her as much as him. She was sitting at the kitchen table, opting for a change of scenery while she drafter her note. It was morning, and from the shuffling sounds outside, George and Lucy seemed to also be awake, but only Lockwood was in the kitchen with her. And the thing about Lockwood was - well, he made her a little skittish.

She panicked at his slightly taken aback expression, rushing to make amends. "No! I mean, yes, I am writing a letter. It's for my sister, Elizabeth."

"I'm sorry I startled you, I don't mean to pry."

"You weren't." God, did she completely forget how to hold a normal conversation? It was mind-numbingly difficult to generate coherent words or even thoughts with his buttery smooth posh accent washing over her. "I just - we keep odd hours and with the time zone difference I haven't had the time to talk to them on the phone."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

She looked down into her tea, suddenly shy. Keeping eye contact with him was difficult enough when they were all in the room, but his undivided attention was simply unbearable. There was something so intentional in his gaze that made her too nervous to think too much about it. So that just left a knot in her chest that would throb and set her ablaze any time he got too close. That, coupled with their extremely embarrassing first meeting, made her especially prone to stuttering or leaving the room whenever Lockwood was around.

Ironically, he was away handling a mild Type One case in Sidcup, for which the prestigious clientele warranted the inconvenient travel, during her interview. Which was just as well, because she was sure she wouldn't have been able to force anything out with him watching her as closely as George had. She had seen the newspaper clippings on the wall, but the dates had been cut off, so it hadn't been immediately obvious to her that he was a teenager like the rest of them. Besides, who had heard of an agency run by three teenagers and no adults?

Which was why she nearly fell out of her armchair the following morning when the front door opened to the sound of unfamiliar yet boyish laughter. The briefcase carelessly left by the entry way to the living room caught her eye first, followed by his crisp suit, his straight tie, and finally, the man himself.

She wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but as he grinned with his dimples mischievously winking at her, she felt that if anyone could change her mind, it just might be him. She felt the palms resting on her book grow clammy as her heart thudded dangerously, And this was all before he had even spoken or looked at her. As soon he opened his mouth, she was a goner.

"You guys have to read this: 'Lockwood & Co. - the answer to the Problem? For an independent agency with less resources yet arguably more success than the big two, could they be the key to ridding our world of visitors? Read more on pa-' Page six? So much of that trouble, all for a page six?"

"Now look what you've done, Lockwood. You've scared our newest member mute with that demented laugh of yours."

"How could I forget? Y/N L/N, the one agent with enough talent to, and I quote, 'somewhat-kind-of satisfy' George Karim. I was positively racing home to meet you. Forgive my, hmm, associates. I hope they didn’t give you too rough of a time."

"You make it sound like we're degenerates!"

"They can be quite bothersome when they want to be. I'm Anthony Lockwood, of Lockwood & Co."

He stuck out a hand, and she blinked at him. She felt a bubble of nervous laughter lodged in her throat, almost half-inclined to believe that this was all a bit; he really was that ridiculously attractive. His dazzling smile faltered, morphing into one of concern, until Lucy knocked enough sense back into her to respond. She shook his hand, embarrassed, mumbling a greeting. He walked away, loosening his tie, and she buried her nose deeper into the paper, wishing it would just swallow her whole.

They had been terribly busy the past week, and during the day she would mostly tag along with Lucy, so their paths rarely crossed. There was this one time when he had just been coming down the stairs as she and Lucy were returning from their shopping trip. She froze halfway in the motion of taking her coat off, then shrugged it back on. He looked mildly confused. She was desperately confused. She didn't appreciate Lucy's snicker.

"New coat."

"Yeah. It's real warm."

"I can see that." Her coat looked not all that much bulkier than Lucy's, but she could still hear the smile in his voice as she pulled her gloves off. Somehow, she managed to coordinate her limbs enough to take the coat off and hang it like a normal person, before briskly walking up to the attic, the side of her face burning from when she passed Lockwood.

"It's real warm." Lucy wasted no time teasing her as soon as they were in the attic. She groaned.

"What else was I supposed to say?"

"You were really excited about the pockets at the shop."

"They're-"

"Faux fur-lined, yes, you've told me a thousand times." She gave a knowing half-smile. "Couldn't manage telling him once?"

"He'd think they were stupid. He'd think I was stupid." Even more stupid that he already thinks, she wanted to say. But who could blame him? For all he knew, she didn't have enough brain cells to string three coherent words together.

Their cases were tiring, but the routine was still so new that more often than not, she would be too wired to peacefully knock out in the attic with Lucy after their cases. She'd open the door to the attic just a crack, and listen to the soothing sounds of paperwork rustling in the library, watching the barely visible soft shadows of Lockwood moving about. She could glean that they were a little burdened by the absence of a pair of hands, and she had tried to offer her help, but all she got was distracted pats on the forehead as her words went in one ear and out the other. She couldn't blame them; they really did look stretched thin, which made her especially thankful for Lucy's company even at their busiest.

Still, that didn't stop her from carrying her blankets down to the door to the attic in the dead of the night, leaning her head against the banister. If she were lucky, she'd catch a faint strain of Lockwood humming. As cheery and disarming as he was, picturing him humming felt too intimate. The little that she could hear reverberated through her skull, the notes knocking into her other drifting thoughts about him, his British smile and his stormy London eyes. But the Lockwood she curiously dreamt of at night never reconciled with the Lockwood she saw walking and talking during the day, and so their relationship had come to a sort of standstill, where he would smile at her and she would take the first socially-acceptable chance to flee the room. Only, it was a bit harder to escape early in the morning when they were the only ones in the kitchen.

Fortunately, the others soon came, and the tension eased. Lucy came in, sleepily trying to scrounge up some tea while George went off on Lockwood about his sleep schedule, or lack thereof, while Lockwood tried to stuff his face and busy himself in gathering his documents to keep from answering. She took advantage of the bustle to discreetly sift through the drawers. Lucy had mentioned that they had a postage drawer somewhere, but she didn't want to be too much of a burden by asking again.

"George, lay off me, I've got to get to DEPRAC. Luce and I will meet you at the Archives and - oh, darling, we keep the stamps here." Lockwood paused his hunt for some brown, non-descript envelope to pull open a drawer between the two of them. She could feel her face starting to warm, but only because of the embarrassment, not the nickname. "Mailman should be coming around soon, so you might want to hurry. Luce, yesterday's client should be coming around near 5 and you promised Holly you'd do the invoices while she was away. Oh, what now George?" She ducked her head, muttering some thanks that went unheard as George tried to force out how many hours Lockwood had slept, practically chasing him out of the house. Lucy raised her eyebrows suggestively, which she pointedly ignored.

That day was the most dull one yet, where she rolled around the house like a lost penny, trying to occupy herself. A letter arrived some time in the late morning, and she took the liberty of starting its case report file. Lockwood was the first one free, arriving home a little after lunch. She told him as soon as she saw him, while he was still taking his coat off, forcing the words out before she lost her nerve.

"We got a new case while you were gone. I started its file."

"Wonderful. Thanks, love." He rolled up his sleeves, putting on the kettle, while she surreptitiously leaned against the wall for support, trying not to think about how effortlessly pet names dripped off his tongue, like honey, before she got too shaky in the knees. She pressed on.

"It was from a Lew-tenant Smith."

"Who?"

"Lew-tenant Smi..." her voice trailed off. No, that didn't sound right. She couldn't imagine any of them saying it like that. Lockwood briefly leaned over her shoulder, a faint smell of soap lingering around him, before his eyebrows unfurrowed and he returned to his tea.

"Oh, I see. We pronounce it as 'left-tenant.' Now, where's he staying?"

Oh dear. She wasn't entirely sure. "Erm, Ald-wykh?"

"Ald-wich, we call it."

"Ah." Some part of her wanted to apologise, but he was looking at her with a strange twist to his lips and a certain fondness was shining in her eyes that, once again, she was rendered speechless. A silence followed, and for once, she willed herself to bear it.

"You haven't been stuck at home all day, have you? Have you been outside during the day any time this week?"

"I, er-"

"Luce, what kind of a friend are you?" Lockwood spun around to accost Lucy, who had wandered into the living room to see the commotion, bleary-eyed from whatever lair she had retired to to iron out the paperwork. "Y/N must be feeling cooped up. We should make a day trip of it. We'll get a break one of these days, and we'll take you around London, do all of it: high tea, the West End, go to a pub, watch some rugby- how are you with heights? Interested in the London Eye?"

Lucy groaned, stealing Lockwood's tea. "I don't know how Holly does it."

"Well, for one, I don't think she lets it pile up like you do."

Lucy shot Lockwood a dirty look, taking his biscuit too before turning back apologetically. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but how about next week?"

She laughed, pulling a weak smile from Lucy. "Don't sweat it. Hopefully, I'll still be around then." Lucy waved goodbye, retiring to her mountains of paperwork.

"Well, there goes my tea. Would you like some...?"

"Tea? Oh, um, sure."

"Brilliant. See you outside in five minutes." With that, he left the kitchen. Once she had caught up to what had just happened, she slipped her coat on, joining him outside just as he hailed a cab.

Surprisingly, he hadn't been exaggerating: Lockwood was fully prepared to take her to each and every one of those attractions, no matter how long it took. In the end, they narrowed it down to a rainy cab ride to a play at the West End, with high tea afterwards, though they did get around to the rest in the coming weeks. Oddly enough, they never planned it beforehand. The occasional lull in cases would sneak up on them, Lockwood would wander into the living room where she would be fused to an armchair, and suddenly it would be time for yet another trip around London.

But now they were at high tea, tucking in to the fading sunlight and excitedly discussing the play. A wind blew through one of the open windows, and she shivered.

"Everything okay, love?"

"I'm fine. It's just a little draughty, don't you think?"

"A little what?"

"Dra - erm, like, it's windy?"

"Drafty."

"Oh, come now, that sounds nothing like how it's spelt. How was I supposed to know that?" He chuckled, shaking his head slightly, as he polished off his food. But she was feeling bold enough to not let it drop this time.

"You keep doing that! You smile and turn away or you laugh and it makes me feel like I've put my foot in something - "

"No, no, dear god, no." There he was, laughing again. She hoped he would choke; but not too hard, just enough to shock some sense into him. "You don't - it's not your fault; believe me, I'm just an awful person. It's just...you really try your very best at...everything, really." His eyes fixed on hers and she found herself wanting to never look away. "It's...endearing."

"I’m sorry. I know my accent isn’t the clearest-"

“No, it’s fine. I like it. It’s very unique, and…beautiful. I’d pick your voice out of a crowd.” She felt this warmth wash over, and then chills run down her spine. He made her all nervous and giggly on the inside in a way that made her want to lounge around London, indulging herself in useless thoughts of ridiculous London boys with addictive smiles and silver tongues.

But like all good things, their excursion came to an end. She found herself dragging her feet to the front door with a boy with whom she was too scared to be alone with just 12 hours ago.

"I hope you had fun today. Not feeling too homesick, are you?"

She thought back to the green meadows and lightning bugs that she had dreamed about in the early hours of that morning. That life still seemed so precious, so sacred, but now it was oddly distant, no longer something she yearned for.

"I don't think so. You know what they say, 'home is where the heart is,'" she looked up at him, unable to resist the smile tugging at her lips, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But I think the English aren't half-bad either."

"Not half-bad?" They were so close now, she could feel his breath tickling her forehead. Her heart stuttered. "I took you out to the West End, and you call it 'not half-bad.'"

"Well, there are certain exceptions."

"Like what?"

Her stomach threatened to explode with giddiness. She was having a hard time regulating her breathing and looking at him at the same time. God, she was never beating the 'stupid' allegations. "I don't know," she fibbed in a flimsy attempt to seem cool. "Like...like you."

In the end, it was his eyes that pulled her in, pulled her under, because one moment she was teetering on the precipice of something new and terrifying, and the next there was soft skin brushing her frozen face, warm lips on her chapped ones. He tasted like summer in this cold, dead winter, breathing life and wonder back into her. It was dizzying, exhilarating, heart-palpitations-inducing...it was Lockwood, surrounding and consuming all her senses.

He pulled away, and all she stared at him blankly, as if he had stolen the words at the tip of her tongue. He gave a half-smile, and she grinned at him. He opened the door for her, murmuring in her ear in a way that filled her brain with pleasant static. "After you, darling." She rolled her eyes reflexively as a defense mechanism, but still her heart fluttered. They walked in to find George sorting the mail, mildly peeved, mildly concerned.

"Ah, so you two finally decide to show up. You could've been dead in a ditch for all we know. Your dinner's gone cold, you know."

Lucy had skipped down the stairs once the front door opened, a little too immediately for her liking and now her eyes narrowed teasingly. All of a sudden, she had the embarrassing realisation how visible the front porch was from the attic. There was colour in Lucy's cheeks, which probably meant that she had somehow managed to work through all that paperwork. Drat. "I dunno. I think Mr. and Mrs. 'Darling' are- "

"Luce! Have I...told you about my coat pockets?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, heading back to the attic, while George shook his head and handed her a postcard. Lockwood's fingers lingered briefly on her wrist as he walked away, leaving her and her mind all topsy-turvy. With a start, she pulled herself away from delicious thoughts of Lockwood to the postcard in her hand. She scanned it eagerly, lips twitching as she reached the end of it. Her sister could be just as ridiculous and delusional as her sometimes, and she wasn't even in the same country.

Y/N -

Can't say much, haven't got the time. All's well here and we miss you dearly too. The house is just too quiet, but mum seems to be adjusting. We saw a picture of your boss in the paper the other day.

London boys truly are a different breed, aren't they?

Love, Lizzie.

[soaps-mohawk]

okay so firstly, I do have to say, it is your blog, you can do whatever you want, blah blah blah moving on

Secondly, I'd like to point out that professional writers usually take breaks between books as well. in my opinion, the first "book" of CRCB either ended after omega was rescued or will end after this next chapter depending on how long the story ends up being (I'm basing this totally off vibes btw pls don't take me seriously I beg)

that being said, you're doing this for free. FREE. if professional writers (who are paid to write) can take breaks, so the FUCK can you. the story you're creating is amazing and incredible, and while I (and probably everyone else who reads it) appreciates the regular updates, we also understand that you're a human, not a living typewriter.

take a break. please, God, take a break. focus on kyletober, or other fics, or even just go on a full writing hiatus if you need. but please, take care of yourself first. we can wait. we'll be fine. there's other authors and fics in the meantime.

Thank you, love 💚

That is true, even professional writers take breaks (I mean GRRM has taken like what more than ten years for the next ISOIAF book? Looking at you George...)

I do think this is a place where it would split into the next fic, if I was going to do things that way. There's still quite a bit to get through, even though we've kind of already had the big climax for at least that bit. So yeah, you're right that this would be the end of the first book so to speak lol.

And yeah, that's a good thing to remember. I do this mostly for free (not counting Patreon). It's a hobby and I do have a life outside of this hobby that I have to attend to that matters more than the fic and the blog and everything. I have a job because I have to have money to survive and I have appointments and friends and other things I like to do. While I've been blessed for a good chunk of the year to be able to focus a lot of time on this blog and this fic, it's just not possible anymore. At least for the time being. Come January and the end of the holiday season and as my job kind of winds down, then yeah. I'll probably be able to focus more energy on the fic and the blog again, but for now, I have to take a break.

It's not even just real life that's getting in the way, I'm burning out on the fic too. I've put out over 300k words in about eight months with weekly updates. That's a lot. That's on average almost 10k words a week counting this next chapter. It's hard to write 10k words in a single week. Chapters are starting to get hard to write and I'm finding myself excited that I'm taking a break and won't have to worry about writing the next chapter, so yeah. It's time for a little break from CRCB to let my mind focus somewhere else (I'm so hyped for Kyletober y'all have no idea) and refill those creative juices towards CRCB.

But thank you for being so understanding. Really. It's so reassuring to see everyone being so supportive. And it's not like i'm not going to be writing during this time, I'm just focusing my energy elsewhere for a bit to give myself a much needed break. 💚

[karahofthedawn]

Thinking about Fred and George’s reaction to overhearing someone from Hufflepuff quidditch team talking about Y/N and just the boys jealous reactions they would have hearing someone talk about their girl like that……and then that causing them to play extra hard and rough during the game and when they get off the pitch the poor reader is confused and innocent, but they just want to make sure she knows that she is theirs and only for them and img I can’t pls feel free to use this idea I need it

Here you go! ☺️

A cool February breeze brushes your shoulders as you climb the stands that surround the quidditch field. It was the first time since last year that you’ve been to a game. The Triwizard Tournament did take over all of the school events, but that didn’t stop the house teams from wanting to play against each other. After a discussion with Dumbledore, he gave the OK for there to be unofficial matches that anyone could attend.

You wrap your wooly black and gold scarf around your neck tightly and lean over the edge to try and catch a glimpse of the teams. It was Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor, which means you finally get to witness the Weasley brothers back in action. Slowly the crowd trickles in around you, murmurs of conversations that are immediately pushed to the back of your mind as you scan the field.

Your heart leaps to your throat as the pair of fiery haired twins come into sight. They were chatting with the other Gryffindor players with big smiles across their faces. The Hufflepuffs follow behind Cedric, who you are surprised to see. You had expected him to opt out, considering all that the Tournament put him through thus far. Yet he looks in high spirits, as always, with his head held high and strutting forward.

They pause at the edge of the field, their brooms in hand and standing proud.

—-------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure he won’t show?” Angelina Johnson asks Fred for the third time today.

“I’m sure,” he responds hastily.

They can hear the low murmur of the crowd from above as they reach the edge of the field. Clear skies with a slight breeze - a perfect day for quidditch, even if Harry didn’t want to join.

After the brothers hounded him for hours over the past week, they finally gave in once Hermoine lectured them. They knew he had his hands full with the tournament, but so did Cedric Diggory and he decided to play. He was their best chance at getting the snitch, and having Katie Bell replace him was not exactly increasing that percentage.

Angelina sighs and rubs her creased forehead. “I just thought he’d have a change of heart.”

“We tried to wear him down,” Fred says with a shrug. “Asked him about a million times.”

“Maybe even a million and one times,” George adds, then nudges his brother’s shoulder with his.

Once making eye contact, George gestures to the stands with a quick nod. Fred follows his gaze and catches a glimpse of you leaning over the stone barrier. A mixture of excitement and happiness swells in their chest as they both look at you. Your hair and scarf blowing in the wind, your arms tight against your torso. You never liked the cold, yet here you were, out to support them both. It meant more than they could ever say.

A few of the Hufflepuff players began snickering. Anthony Rickett and Michael McManus hold their brooms out, slowly rubbing the tips of them suggestively. “What I wouldn’t give to -,” the rest of the words were washed away as the crowd gave an encouraging cheer.

“Merlin’s beard, I’d give my last Galleon,” Michael laughs.

This was a background noise for the brothers, until the keyword of ‘Y/N’ is said. Both of their heads turn in automatic unison towards the conversation.

“As if you even have a Galleon,” Rickett retorts and shoots another hungry look your way. “I bet you Y/N would pay me after I’d have my way with her.”

Fred and George are both scowling, looking directly at the boys who continue laughing amongst themselves.

“She wouldn’t even look at you,” Michael taunts and swishes his hair from his forehead. “I bet you my last Knut that I could easily have her before you.”

Fred clenches his jaw, George mirrors him with closed fists. The rush of anger was beginning to rush through their veins the longer they eavesdropped. The excitement and happiness they felt just moments ago was melting away and being replaced by something else - something that made them want to run forward and smash Michael and Rickett’s head full force with their brooms.

“You really want to make that bet? I’ll try after the game,” Rickett says with a cocky smile.

Michael shakes his head. “You can try, but I’ll be sure to have her screaming my name behind the greenhouses before then.”

George’s breath catches in his throat as the imagery of you and Michael hits him. This boy’s greedy hands all over your delicate curves. Him tasting you. Him knowing how you sound when you’re trying to hold back moans. This was sacred. You were sacred to them, and he only ever wanted him and his brother to know these intimate things.

“You’re on,” Rickett snorts. “But who knows, if she’s as easy as I think, maybe she will take on both of us.” This time they both erupt with laughter, which almost sends Fred forward but George promptly stops him with a stiff arm.

Fred curses under his breath and digs his toe into the ground like an angry bull. Anger travels through his veins, his face a shade of red not too far from his hair. His pupils are tiny and fully focusing on the two who dare to speak about Y/N like that. He knew they couldn’t have you. That was never a question. But to stand there and make bets on who gets to capture you. Who gets to have you.

The twins look at each other, an understanding between them at once.

They’re going to pay.

—----------------------------------------------

The players are lining up now. You rub your hands together, breathing into them to try and bring back some warmth. Two of the boys from the Hufflepuff team kept periodically staring up your way. Surely there’s for someone in the crowd that they’re waiting for. It’s odd though, you could swear they’re looking directly at you.

Your mind drifts off as you focus back on the Weasley twins, both standing tall with an expression of determination across their faces. You take notice that they seem more serious than normal, but their competitive nature always brought out that side of them.

With a call from the announcer, both teams scatter off into the sky. The golden snitch is released and the game has begun. Rocking from the balls of your feet to the tips of your toes, you watch with a slack jaw as both brothers go rocketing across the field with their bats held with whitening knuckles.

Not too long after it starts, George hits a bludger off of a post and misses Michael McManus’s head by inches. Still trying to comprehend the close call, Michael was almost thrown off his broom by Fred who slams into the side of him.

“Watch it!” Michael yells shakily, then takes off to prevent Angelina from scoring.

The bludger finds Rickett this time as Fred hits it directly at him, making contact with his ribs. There is a loud thump and the announcer audibly groans with the crowd.

The ball wasn’t even on that side of the field, yet he was chasing down this now injured player who was desperately trying to flee.

George on the other hand was with Angelina, safely allowing her to score a point. The students around you burst out with a mixture of applause and booing. You clap and jump up and down with the fellow Gryffindors, leaving the Hufflepuffs eyeing you with judgment.

George zooms by so close that your hair blows like mad and curtains over your face. You quickly shake the knotting strands out of your sight just in time to see him practically kick Michael off his broom. Your attention is then immediately brought back to Fred, who was red faced and charging at a screaming Rickett. In the middle of the field was a dumbfounded Angelina, who was watching this unfold with wide eyes.

For the rest of the match, the players were just merely blurs. The Weasley twins are smacking bludgers left and right at the Hufflepuff players, leaving them very little time to plan. From the short period of times the messy haired gingers go stationary, you could see their eyes narrow and focused.

You hold your breath as Katie Bell dives and grabs the snitch in one quick swoop from right under the nose from Cedric. The Gryffindor student erupts into cheers. You join in, clapping and calling out to Fred and George who ceased chasing the Hufflepuff beaters.

They were getting closer. You assume they probably want to take in the applause, they earned it after all.

It isn’t until their brooms were only a few feet away, you realize that they were staring directly at you. Your chest blooms with excitement as they dismount their brooms and push past the crowd to meet you. With their arms outstretched, you run to them and fall into their warm arms.

“You were great!” You exclaim while smiling up at them.

Fred’s eyes dart to your lips and he dives in for a kiss. His soft hair brushes your face as he tilts you back, deepening his hungry kiss. The students around you holler and clap, making your cheeks turn scarlet red.

Once he pulls back, George takes you by the hips and replaces his brother’s mouth with his. You gasp from surprise, and he responds by rolling his tongue gently against yours. You fall into him completely, not caring what anyone else thinks.

Fred makes eye contact with Rickett and Michael and tilts his head with a devilish grin. Their jaws drop and they quickly fly off to the other side of the field.

You ask once George breaks the kiss, “what’s all this for?”

“Because we wanted to,” he says sweetly, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“And we wanted to thank our good luck charm,” Fred adds.

You rub your flushed cheek as you look between them. “Oh,” you say simply, falling short of any words that would cover how much you love hearing that.

“And,” Fred says, taking your hand in his shaking grasp. “Now everyone knows that you’re ours.”

Your mouth runs dry. Your heart pounding in your chest almost deafens the loud chattering around you. “Yours?”

“If you’ll have us, that is,” George says with a snicker. You take him by the collar of his shirt and stand on your tippy toes to kiss him. His lips are inviting and intoxicating, forget that there’s an audience until he stops you. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You roll your eyes and look between the two of them. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“Perfect,” Fred beams, giving you one last kiss before walking to his broomstick with George following behind. “We will catch up to you soon.”

“There’s something to attend to, and I believe it will leave us with a few extra Sickles.” George explains with a wink.

They take off in the same direction as Rickett and Michael, leaving you confused but with your heart filled to the brim with happiness.