#and all we hear at every corner is how a game like origins could never be made again

[rivilu-2-electric-boogaloo]

This is such a petty complaint but if I don't say it, even in the tags of a sideblog, I'm going to start breaking out in hives

[cleolinda]

When I was a child in the '80s, I absorbed some kind of cultural truism that disco was ridiculous, embarrassing, cheesy, a cultural relic to be mocked at every turn. Remember, I'm under ten years old at this time, and I still manage to get this impression. There was another, milder sea change when grunge overtook the hair metal of the late '80s, so I never questioned the idea that disco should be dead and buried. We like silly things, I thought in my 13-year-old wisdom, and then we get over it.

Then I saw The Last Days of Disco (1998) while I was in college, and suddenly I realized that disco was fun, and it was like—it was in the roots of—music I already loved. And the end of that movie also—hints? tells you? I can't remember how explicitly—that disco didn't just fade like most trends; it was killed off.

I watched a lot of VH1 in those days, the late '90s, with a little TV sitting on my tall university-issue dresser, its corner overlooking my computer desk while I struggled with piles of assignments. This was the heyday of Behind the Music, so it was great background TV. And then one day (1999) they ran a Donna Summer—the "Queen of Disco"—concert special. The video up there is the song that immediately became my favorite of hers. It’s just instant serotonin to me, any version of it. I bought the whole VH1 album on CD, and "This Time I Know It's For Real" may genuinely be one of my all-time favorite songs, now, still, more than 20 years later. You can hear the original version (1989) here (the backing instrumental that I just found today is lovely), but the live version ten years later, the video up there, has a really special comeback—joyous, gracious survival—energy to it.

Watching the whole concert, I got it. Why the fuck did I ever think disco wasn't amazing? It was always the kind of thing I loved; we had all just been pretending that it was embarrassing glitter trash.

And then I found out why we were pretending. From densely-footnoted Wikipedia:

Disco Demolition Night was a Major League Baseball (MLB) promotion on Thursday, July 12, 1979, at Comiskey Park in Chicago, Illinois, that ended in a riot. At the climax of the event, a crate filled with disco records was blown up on the field between games of the twi-night doubleheader between the Chicago White Sox and the Detroit Tigers. Many had come to see the explosion rather than the games and rushed onto the field after the detonation. The playing field was so damaged by the explosion and by the rioters that the White Sox were required to forfeit the second game to the Tigers. [...] The popularity of disco declined significantly in late 1979 and 1980. Many disco artists carried on, but record companies began labeling their recordings as dance music. [...] Rolling Stone critic Dave Marsh described Disco Demolition Night as "your most paranoid fantasy about where the ethnic cleansing of the rock radio could ultimately lead". Marsh was one who, at the time, deemed the event an expression of bigotry, writing in a year-end 1979 feature that "white males, eighteen to thirty-four are the most likely to see disco as the product of homosexuals, blacks, and Latins, and therefore they're the most likely to respond to appeals to wipe out such threats to their security. It goes almost without saying that such appeals are racist and sexist, but broadcasting has never been an especially civil-libertarian medium." Nile Rodgers, producer and guitarist for the disco-era band Chic,

(who survived the disco era to make half the music I loved in the '80s)

likened the event to Nazi book burning. Gloria Gaynor, who had a huge disco hit with "I Will Survive," stated, "I've always believed it was an economic decision—an idea created by someone whose economic bottom line was being adversely affected by the popularity of disco music. So they got a mob mentality going."

The DJ who ran the whole thing, Steve Dahl, complains that it was VH1 itself—you know, those Behind the Music specials I was watching—circa 1996 that labeled the whole debacle as bigotry when it so totally was not, you guys, and he is so tired of defending himself. But I'm gonna tell you, Steve, I don't really care. Maybe Disco Demolition Night was your fault; maybe you were just a part of something so much bigger and uglier that you couldn't see the whole size of it. Can you draw a direct line from the weird bigoted vitriol directed at those dance records to Ronald Reagan, elected the very next year, not giving a single fuck about the AIDS crisis? You probably don't want to, but I will.

And I don't care because I can look around the U.S. right now and tell you, nearly 45 years later, people are trying to demolish a lot more than disco. The Club Q shooter was sentenced to life in prison just a few hours ago. It's Pride Month, and we're all sitting here holding our breaths. That's a terrible way to end a post about a beautiful happy song I love, I guess, unless you turn it around and say, that should have been the whole point of this post in the first place. Listen to this song and think, people wanted to destroy this music, this sound, this joy for some reason. They want to stop people from just living their lives, from dancing. And yet, disco is still here. It was there in 1979, and it was there when Donna Summer released this song in 1989, and it was there when she returned in 1999. The Queen of Disco passed away in 2012, and it's still here. I feel a lot of joy when I listen to this song, but I don't think I'd ever thought about it being the joy of grooving with something just because it’s beautiful, the joy of just being here, still.

[destinygoldenstar]

It’s honestly very crazy that a garbage Hollywood trailer makes so many people apologize to Minecraft Story Mode.

My experience with MCSM was that I was gifted the show by my dad as a teenager the same year the news came that Telltale went bankrupt. (It was the summer, so a couple of months before that)

I got a lot more into it than I was expecting. It had its problems, sure, but I was incredibly immersed with its story and atmosphere. Later on it became one of my obsessions once I finished the two games. It was the first fandom on the internet I ever became a part of. It was also the first time I ever outright became a shipper over a ship that wasn’t canon. (Jetra is my OTP to this day)

But in terms of real life, I never really felt confident talking to people about it. That’s because this was around the same time the hate train for MCSM started to arise. Then it became “Pure Fact” quote on quote that the games were these terrible things.

Now in my opinion and from my experience this started when some popular Let’s Players bashed the games. And even then I can’t blame them for simply having an opinion. But it’s because of their influence that their audiences take their opinions as gospel. (That should not be how that works)

From there every time I brought it up I would get cyberbullied for liking the games. And this was true for a lot of people who did like the games as well. We were all getting cyberbullied into joining the popular crowd and that we were wrong.

“Everyone else is saying it’s bad, therefore it must be true”

And then every time MCSM popped up in my feeds, my heart would sink and I would feel sick. Weird part was, while I did become far more critical of the games as a result of the trend… I NEVER found it in myself to outright hate it.

Like I said, the games have problems. They are by no means perfect games, and some of my critiques of it still hold up. (Not all of them though, ones I do wish I could take back) it was talking about THESE games that even spawned my hobby of writing essays of stuff I like.

So… that’s a sad origin story for how AnalyzGolden came to be. Now you know.

I’ve since drifted away from MCSM, simply because I was older and getting into new stuff. I talk about other stuff on this blog, like The Amazing Digital Circus, Ninjago, Total Drama, and quite recently Disventure Camp. And more. I also try to advertise my own stories to failing results cause no one cares.

So to see, after all these years, people like me finally being VALIDATED for our soured opinion on something… it just warms my heart so much.

I became more critical because of the trend of “MCSM sucks”. And now that that’s growing to not be the case, and I became more exposed to some crazy and wild fandom takes on other media that boggle my mind, that I’ve stepped more away from being negative and made choices to be in my corner and simply “Enjoy Something. Because I enjoy it.”

Oh I’m still a critical cynical bitch. And I do talk about my own critiques and problems if I personally have a problem with it and how the writing or whatever was handled. But I guess I’m more willing to hear the story itself out and what it’s trying to do before I jump to conclusions.

I cringe at my old emotionally impulsive self. And I hate having regression episodes of reverting back to my awful teenager self. But I can say that through experiences, I have to thank that for the person I am now, even if it sucked.

So… thank you MCSM. And thank you Hollywood for making a trailer/movie so awful that it made people such as myself finally feel heard and validated.

(Oh and btw, you guys don’t need to follow the trend of loving MCSM either. This doesn’t need to turn into the complete opposite thing. The lesson here is that you are allowed to like and dislike MCSM, and anything really, and trends should not sour your take on it. You can still not like the games if that’s your honest opinion.)

[betweenbreaths]

So, can I request number 14 or number 17 with Rafayel? Whichever sparks your interest. I'm not asking for both, btw! 😭 Just can't choose between them. Thank you :)

A/N: Hi Anon! I went with number 17 ("Suck on my fingers") for this one. Gotta love 'em fish sticks~ Hope you enjoy!

Rating: M

Prompt list

++++++++

You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious.

Rafayel's hands have always been attractive to you. Not that the rest of him isn't already drop-dead gorgeous (you can already hear his dramatic complaints in your head), but his hands are particularly beautiful somehow. It could be that you've spent an unhealthy amount of time staring at him while he paints (while on duty as his bodyguard, of course), eyes zooming in onto his long, slender fingers wrapped around his paintbrushes. You'll trace the contours of his knuckles, the veins in protruding from his skin, wondering how it would feel like to the touch.

Despite disliking physical contact, every now and then you'll have the chance to hold his hand, whether it's to forcibly drag him out of his studio to attend an event or to pull him aside to safety when you sense that he's in danger. Then there are instances when Rafayel just asks to hold your hand because "it's cold" when it's really not, and you get to feel the warmth of his palm seeping into yours and spreading to your cheeks.

Soooo yes. You might have a little crush on your employer.

It wasn't at all part of the plan originally. You had gotten closer to him only because you needed him to cooperate and give you the name of the suppliers that sold him that peculiar red coral stone; it was purely for work; for the safety of Linkon City.

Which meant that accompanying him on day trips to various scenic locations in search of inspiration for his next masterpiece, fetching him late-night snacks for his sudden cravings and accompanying him as his bodyguard to the many events he'd attend, was all for the greater good.

But now, you're not so sure that even this can be justified as part of your job.

"Suck on my fingers."

Yeah, there's no way you're including this in your work report.

Rafayel has you cornered on the edge of the couch in his studio, one hand on your lower back while you lean as far back as you can against the soft cushions, and his other hand raised so that his index and middle fingers are pressed to your lips.

You're not sure what to make of this. Just five minutes ago you had been celebrating your win at arm wrestling and Rafayel had complained about his fingers hurting. As always, he rejected your offer to take him to the hospital, and insisted that you administer emergency first-aid before his hand became unusable and he was forced to retire from his job.

And apparently, Rafayel's idea of first-aid measures is sucking on his fingers.

You push his hand away, freeing your lips to speak.

"That's not how first-aid works," you tell him with a pointed glare to mask how flustered you're getting, but he's quick to grab your chin between his thumb and index finger, trapping you in place before you can run.

"But when children get hurt, don't you humans always 'kiss it better'?" There's a mischievous glint in his eyes as he smirks at you.

"That's not the same as sucking, is it?"

"And the injury to my fingers is far graver than a typical knee-scrape for a human child."

"The grip you have on my chin suggests your hand is perfectly fine, Rafayel."

The veteran actor's grip on you loosens right on cue, and he feigns a pained expression.

"What a barbaric city we live in. I guess deepspace hunters are in the habit of wounding innocent civilians and leaving them to die."

Rafayel continues to ramble on, and his words fade into the background as you consider your next move here. There's really no winning this man-child, and your only way out of this is to beat him at his own game.

"Fine."

"—Thomas will never let you hear the end of— Wait, what?"

"I said, 'fine'," you repeat, before removing Rafayel's hand on your chin and uncurling his fingers, much to his visible bewilderment. He starts to panic when you open your mouth, bringing his hand closer and closer. He watches without uttering a word as your tongue darts out, licking up the length of his index finger before enveloping it with your lips, teeth grazing his skin.

Your eyes don't leave his face, and you watch with some satisfaction as his eyes seem to darken and his ears begin to turn bright red.

Without warning, Rafayel withdraws his hand.

"H-Hey, I was just kidding. Since when did you take me so seriously?"

"Since you claimed you were gravely injured, I figured I should take you seriously."

Rafayel is momentarily at a loss for words, and he pauses to search your eyes, perhaps to see if you're actually mad at him for taking his joke too far.

"Besides," you add, "you seemed to like it."

You're not sure where the courage to utter such provocative words are coming from, but the expression on the usually chatty artist's face is priceless.

Rafayel's lips are parted, but no sound is coming out. His dumbfounded state continues for a few more seconds that feel longer than they should, until he finally asks a question in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"And you... Did you like that too?"

He already knows the answer; it's not like you're making much of an effort to hide how turned on you are at this point, not with his body pressed against yours and your breaths growing shallower by the second.

Your hand finds his, and raise his fingers to your lips once more. His fingers are long, slender, beautiful...

And they taste so good.

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to try again to be sure."

[raayllum]

thinking about these lines in particular bc good god, man

Karim’s sure fire focus on the end, so much like Viren, where he only sees his people restored through his own glorious hand because the end is all that matters, even as a child to adulthood:

Karim could see that line, unprotected and waiting for him. They only needed to reach it. [...] He had memorized the runes. The spell, its words, its motions. He had visualized it countless times: the orb restored by his hand in a display of magic so brilliant it would light the city’s poisoned sky like a golden sunrise.

The persistent idea of loss and how he rails against it (which, no wonder the Soul Candle ceremony is so important, when he lost a friend recently too alongside his eldest sister)

Stars. Just stars, obviously (+ bonus “game motif” of playing a game as children, and then it’s very much not to boot / “yes, mages were his prey”)

WHAM. Someone slammed into Karim’s side. He went down hard. But we’re going to win, he thought, blinking stars out of the noon sun. Someone tore the banner from his grasp. We have to win. 

We have to win, Karim told himself. The writhing, tainted darkness of Lux Aurea’s night sky spread infinitely above him, the stars all swallowed up inside it.

They did not stop until they reached a dry riverbed far, far past the last of Lux Aurea’s golden gates. They could see the stars again, the violet tinge of twilight behind them. It would be dawn soon. 

Never mind that nothing good ever happens at dawn in this show (Sarai and the queens of duren’s deaths, Callum’s possession, etc) + bonus river/water motif (although it’s dry). 

Tainted by darkness, corruption, continually (“the writhing, tainted darkness of Lux Aurea”)

At dusk, every shadowed corner of Lux Aurea erupted with—he struggled to find words for them—monsters. Some of them he could almost call familiar, like horses and banthers, but they were changed. Like the sun orb itself, the abominations rippled with corruption, with tainted magic so vile that light itself seemed to bend to avoid its touch.

After darkness, light. [...] He hardly heard her. I can save him, Karim thought. I can save all of us. Nothing is lost! Karim’s mind raced and found a light to cling to: the spell—the cleansing spell!

Which also fits with his emphasis on light (and tradition) in his original short story from Vol. 1, “The Queen’s Soul”:

Karim’s chest tightened. “It is never too late. We must honor our traditions, now and always! They are the light that will guide our way out of this darkness.”

Janai spoke with a brutal honesty that cut him like a blade. “Her soul – it is lost.”

“No. It merely waits, Sister. It waits for us,” Karim urged. “We must guide her back to the Sun.”

The constant emphasis and comparisons to sickness and infection, also tying in lines from the Book One novelization in terms of how the Moonshadow elves respond to Rayla: 

“Your wound,” announced Tijana, staggering away from Osato. “That’s— that must be how it spreads. Like an infection!” [...] The corruption wriggled like worms under his skin, snaking further with every beat of his heart, down towards his hand and up to his shoulder. “Cut it off,” he shouted. “Cut off my arm, before it spreads!”

"Runaan, you know that weakness is an infection," the third elf said so angrily he was spitting. "You must cut it out!" (book one novelization)

He could still see it: the top of the Sunforge Tower, upside-down from where he lay, shrouded in inky corruption. It looked ill, its sickness weeping red and crowning the spire in a haze of blood. [...] All around them, he could hear the sound of battle down every alleyway, around every corner, the worst of the bloodshed mercifully shrouded by the night’s darkness. How many had they already lost? Karim felt sick, desperate, weak. [...] Karim took a last look back at the ailing heart of Lux Aurea atop the Sunforge Tower.

Which, continual heart motif even over storms, thank you kindly, as well as the red equalling sickness, and Karim literally putting on the red glove of his sick, dead friend by the end of the story. 

Karim waited until he could no longer hear the sound of her boots before he let himself weep. He wept for Osato as he buried him, marking his grave with a circle of stones. He wept for his city, his people, and the darkness struck deep into their hearts.

As well as Karim’s parallels to Claudia - the younger sibling, unable to accept change, unable to accept that they cannot save everyone they love with their magic, likewise poisoned with sickness and corruption and losing/finding  (“Stay safe, and stay in the light. Don’t follow me, and don’t look for me. I don’t think you’ll find me, anyway.” Dear Callum)

The corrupted elves drew closer. Osato stepped towards them, a desperate captain reaching for his soldiers, but Tijana seized Osato by the arm. “Don’t. They are lost. But we’re still alive.”

“Lost? They are our kin! They are not dead!” Karim protested. “They might still be saved! All of us can still be saved! We must—”

“I will banish that darkness,” Karim swore to Osato’s grave. “I swear it, Osato. Lux Aurea will not die with you. We will be whole again. By the Sun, we will be whole.”

And last but not least because TDP hates me, specifically

Karim stepped towards them, peering closely, and his eyes fell upon Osato’s wound. The moon, he realized, had played a cruel trick. Osato’s blood was not simply dark in the moonlight… It was black.

as well as

“Do not speak as if you mourn him!” Karim snapped, overcome. “You killed him!”

Tijana spoke softly, almost at a whisper. “He was my friend.”

Anyway this short story was extremely fucked and i am both scared and excited to see the literal ramifications it has for both the Sunfire elves and Janai/Amaya and Karim, as well as the possible broader implications for S5, dark magic, Aaravos, and possession plot line as a whole

[bluejaysandblackbats]

You're Just Like Quicksand

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Batman Beyond

Summary: Jason Todd is ready to go into semi-retirement after fifteen years working with troubled youth, but one case in particular forces him to confront the sins of his youth and painful memories from his past.

Chapters: 12/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Terry McGinnis, Warren McGinnis, Mary McGinnis, Matt McGinnis, Bruce Wayne, Original Character(s)

Relationship(s): TBA

Additional Tags: Protective Jason Todd, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Retired Jason Todd, Multiple POV, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, Angst, Mourning Jason Todd

Chapter Twelve: Pressure Cooker (Terry McGinnis' POV)

Jason took me to a team-building event for the kids in his program. All the kids had to sign up for a game beforehand, but we could sign up for at least three. There had to be at least two hundred kids there. I worried because Jason started acting strangely after his meeting three weeks ago. I felt like he didn’t want me around anymore. Jason wasn’t mean about it, but he wasn’t the same anymore. It made me feel the same way I did when my parents told me about the divorce. I couldn’t put it into words, but I was a pressure cooker full of anxiety… And what comes out of anxiety when you’re afraid to show fear? 

Despite everything inside me screaming to turn around and go home, I signed up for baseball. It felt like my last-ditch effort to impress Jason and get on his good side. Jason and I sat in matching baseball uniforms while he stared at his phone. “Hey, Jason, how’d you make these jerseys so fast? It’s not like baseball’s the only sport at this event,” I smiled. I would’ve done anything to strike up a conversation with him. 

“Huh? Oh… The jerseys are all made at the beginning of the year and we put the names on during signups,” Jason answered without looking up. 

“Um… How’s Avie? I haven’t seen her in a while. Did she go home—?” 

“You’re up, Terry,” Jason interrupted. I sighed and picked up a bat. 

Jason never looked up. The umpire mumbled something about Charlie, and I whipped around, missing the first pitch. 

“Strike one!” he shouted. I grimaced. If Jason was paying any attention, he would’ve noticed it. I tried to ignore it but missed the second pitch anyway. “Strike two! Sound familiar, twip? I hope Big Time doesn’t pull through this time.” 

I looked straight ahead and hit the ball. I didn’t have time to see where it went before I tossed the bat and jumped on the umpire. We struggled on the ground for a minute before Jason pulled me off him. “What’s your glitch?” the umpire shouted. I ripped his mask off while Jason struggled to get a hold of me. I recognized the kid. 

Charlie might’ve slagged his brother. I don’t know for sure because Charlie never said anything about it. All I know is that the kid’s brother never bothered me again. I never saw him again. He used to corner me and beat me up after school every day until Charlie came around. After that twip said that about Charlie, I didn’t care about controlling myself. I lost it. I wriggled loose and I grabbed the kid by his collar and reeled back to punch him out before Jason dragged me off of him. 

He hooked his arms under my armpits and dragged me away from the field. My heels dug into the dirt, and I fought him every inch of the way. He let go of me and blocked my efforts to return to the fight. “Terry!” Jason shouted. His voice shook me, but he didn’t intend to scare me. He sounded hurt like he was holding back tears. “What’s going on?” 

“If he has a problem with Charlie, he’s got a problem with me—.”

“Seriously, Terry? Not that… Tell me anything else—.” 

“You didn’t hear what he said! You haven’t heard anything I’ve said for weeks! Did I do something to you?” I shouted. Jason froze. “Go ahead! Check your phone! I’m out of here!”

“Terry, wait,” Jason pleaded. I was done. I stormed off and Jason followed me from a distance. 

“Leave me alone! I’m through! I don’t need you or your stupid program anymore!” I screamed. 

“Terry, at least let me drive you home!” Jason replied. 

“I’ll call my dad!” I lied. Jason knew it. I was too upset to talk to anybody. He followed closely behind me until I hopped on the A-trak, and lost him. I took the A-trak to Dana’s neighborhood and hopped off two blocks from her house. Her dad didn’t like me around because he wasn’t sure I was done with the gangs. I didn’t blame him. It was fresh. I was on the verge of throwing away all my progress. Dana came when I called, running around the corner to meet me. Her smile faded when she saw the look on my face. “Terry,” Dana frowned as she took her sleeve and wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “What happened?” 

“Can we take a walk?” I asked. I was keyed up and needed a break from myself. “What’s going on with you today? How are you?” 

Dana shrugged. “I’m fine… I’m more concerned about how you’re doing, Terry. You were doing great… What’s going on?” Dana asked. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Dana. I wanna talk about you. I wanna talk to you—.”

“Where’s Jason? Didn’t you have that thing at the park?” Dana asked. 

“I went,” I answered. 

“Did you get kicked out of the program? You were doing such a good job. You idolize Jason—.” 

“Not anymore. And I didn’t get kicked out of the program. I quit. I walked out of the program because it blows. Jason doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t care about me… And I’m good with that. It’s over,” I replied. I didn’t want it to be over. Jason made me feel stable. Five seconds out of the program sent me reeling. 

“As your friend, I think you’re being stupid, Terry. Jason’s the best thing that ever happened to you. He’s a great influence—.” 

“Dana, let’s drop it. Please. Can we drop it?” I asked. Dana sighed.

“Okay… Where are we going, Terry?”Dana asked. I didn’t know where to go. “Terry, slow down a second. Let’s get something to eat.”I nodded. “And your bag’s lighting up.”

I frowned. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled. 

“If it’s nothing, can I—?”

“Dana, forget it… Go home,” I snapped. She touched my arm. “Dana, I’ll be fine. I’m going home.” 

“Home… Terry, don’t lie to me,” Dana whispered, “Please.”

“I’m not… I’m going home at some point today. I’ll call you,” I reassured her. She turned around and I watched her head home. I almost made it before my dad caught me. 

“Terry!” Dad shouted. I frowned with tears in my eyes. He softened and opened his arms… And I hugged him. “Do you wanna go to the park? Or would you rather go home?” 

“I wanna go home,” I mumbled. Dad nodded, messing up my hair. 

“Bad day?” Dad asked. 

“Terrible,” I answered. 

He let me in the house and poured a glass of juice. “Wanna talk about it?” Dad questioned. I shook my head. “That’s alright… I ordered a pizza, thinking I’d be alone, but now you can split it with me. How ‘bout it?”

“Sounds good, Dad,” I smiled. Dad didn’t ask me about Jason. I didn’t want to see him anymore. I decided he didn’t want me around. I couldn’t force him to care about me. He didn’t owe me friendship, but I wished he cared to explain. There wasn’t anything I could do about that.

[influenzalake]

'I love...' (Damian's ver.) Damian Wayne x Reader (pt2!)

The media will always be annoying, but now Damian is acting off too. How do you stop this before it gets too much?

femelle reader, 840 words, enjoy!

- - - 

You had originally given your speech to set things right. To fend OFF the press. Now, they just can't get enough.  

You and Dami have been in the news for weeks straight. 

With shameless photographers at every turn, being hounded by reporters at the most inopportune times, or cameras and microphones shoved in your face- life has become a game of hide and HIDE MORE. The paparazzi have been all OVER you and any other Wayne they can trap in a corner. 

All this suffocating attention seems to be getting to Damian. He's been more quiet for some reason... Like he doesn't know how to act around you anymore. He will stare, then look away when you turn to make eye contact. He keeps his poker face on 24/7 and responds with "Hmm"s and "Hrnn"s. You managed to crack the code by the way, hmm meaning yes and hrnn meaning no, but that's no way to communicate with your partner! You thought it was Bat Business and that it would pass eventually, but nothing changed. You start to worry if it's the overwhelming media... or if it's you.

The wheels start turning in your mind and it lights a fuse you didn't know you had. You thought you made the right decision? Said all the right words? What more could he want? You THINK you know somebody, yet here we are. 

Well. After all this time, you are not going to play some hot-n-cold game with a grown man. After breakfast one day, you grab him by the arm and take him to one of the many study rooms in Wayne Manor. You sit him down, stand a few paces away, arms crossed, and tell him out with it. This behavior is childish and he CAN do better. Damian states into his hands for a while, then he finally looks up and a hurricane of emotions hit like it's the first time seeing his deep green eyes. 

His mouth opens slowly, dry and unsure. 

"Is what you said about me true?        All of it?    Did you mean every word?"

You feel like your heart just went on a rollercoaster and landed back in your chest. Is that what this is about?? All this worrying and he just needed some reassurance??? You feel the need to spite him out for all this cold and standoffish behavior, but as you return to Earth to say your peace you find he is still sitting there waiting for an answer. Damian, master in strategy, is using his most cruel tactic- the puppy dog eyes. The reprimanding... can wait.  

You take a deep breath, just like you did before, and take a seat next to him. 

You take his hands and look right at him. You channel the love in your beating heart, and tell him everything he needs to hear. 

"Yes, every word, but what I didn't tell them is this-"

and you see the color drain from his face. A little bit of karma for the past weeks... but then you continue...

"You were born and abused to dominate, to control without a second thought for others. You were pushed beyond your limits by the League, but you were just a boy. In that same time, you lost everything. You were abandoned and blindsighted. But then chose to pick yourself up and try a different path. You were introduced to another way of life and decided your own actions. You make your own choices, your own right and wrong. You have devoted your life to your family, your father, your city, and the symbol. Gotham sleeps well because you are out every night catching and stopping those who seek to do it harm. Your family is proud to have you fighting alongside them. Bruce, Alfred, your brothers and sisters, they're all proud of you because you are making choices according to your own creed. You honor them everyday by never letting yourself be consumed. With all the darkness in your life and in your past, you still make it through every day. That is your strength. 

 I admire that Damian. I admire the Damian you have become. I know exactly who you are and you know who you are too. All of that brings me even closer to you. I'm proud of you baby, and I love you." 

You go in to end with a little kiss on the cheek, and intend to give Damian some time alone, but as you rise toward his face Damian brings you into a deep hug. You don't see it, but you can feel it. Wet, heavy tears on your shoulder. 

You slowly bring your arms up to return his hug, and you rub his back up and down to settle him. You turn your head and whisper sweet words and more I Love Yous into his ear. He needs this. Your precious Damian. 

[saturnine-saturneight]

Get to Know Your Moots Writeblr Interview

@davycoquette published the template for this [here] and it looks fun, so here I go!

I'm leaving this as an open tag, also.

On the Tumblr Writing Community

How long have you had your writing Tumblr/Writeblr?

I made this Tumblr last year with the intention of joining writeblr, then just kind of didn't. I've been using this blog actively for just two months now.

What led you to create it?

I had my story and no earthly idea how to get it out there. I was also missing a community and people to talk to about writing. Two problems that this has rectified :)

What’s your favorite thing about the Writeblr community?

Hands down how friendly a lot of people are and how much we engage with each other's writing. A close second is to hear people talk about their process and watch their stories grow.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

Meta! Tell me your thoughts! Show me your process! Give me before and afters when you edit!

What tips/advice do you have for someone who made a Writeblr today?

Idk, do what I did? Follow a bunch of people, do open tag games, start commenting on other people's posts and tagging them in things. Engage with others, and when you find something you like, tell that to the person who made it.

WIP it Good

Which Works-in-Progress (WIPs) or writing projects are you noodling about, lately?

It's really only Reburial (FKA Twin Suns) for me. I'm focusing all my energy on that. I have an idea or two for books after that in the same universe... But one thing after the other.

How long have you been working on them?

Depends heavily on how you count. I made the characters maybe 7 years ago, give or take? (Edit: Never mind, Ron was created 9 years ago. Christ.) The drabbles that kickstarted the story are from 2018. Since then I've picked it back up and put it back in a corner multiple times.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

These are roleplay characters that were originally part of a wider social net of characters that I was playing with friends. We all had our own plots going that the characters could then talk to each other about or even get involved in.

The events of Reburial/Twin Suns started when Nat had a very ill advised situationship with a friend's character who infected them with mushrooms. It was very different and almost none of it has stayed.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

At least an hour a day.

When someone asks the dreaded, “What do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I usually keep it simple and just say horror. I don't talk about my writing very much to people IRL, and 'horror' has been offputting to basically everyone I've said that to, lmao.

Let’s Rotate Blorbos

Name any characters you created.

I've been rotating Ron in my mind, with Matcha being a close second. Ron doesn't get a lot of airtime in Act 1, simply because Nat sucks all the air out of a room with their thoughts and feelings and pays almost no attention to Ron's. Although he's the deuteragonist, we only really get to know him in Act 2.

Who’s the most unhinged?

Rabbit. Her and the hinges are only vague acquaintances. I like her because she's practical to a fault about deeply strange goals, like a single silver thread connecting her to the most fucked up version of herself that she can be.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I don't really struggle with any of them. I've spent months to years roleplaying almost every character in the roster. The least natural is Louis, though.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Especially in their self centeredness, Nat can be pretty out of touch. They fancy themself a lot of things that they aren't, and inflate their own ego to a point where it cannot survive contact with reality.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters?

I feel very in control, actually! I have moments of They Would Not Fucking Say That sometimes when I'm trying to get from A to B, and things do go off the rails if I'm not careful, but usually, if I bend the circumstances correctly, my characters do what I need them to do.

On Writeblr Engagement

What makes you want to follow another Writeblr account?

I'm very careful about following new people and scope blogs out thoroughly. If a blog is mostly original writing, either by the blog owner or by other people, through tag games, excerpts etc, I like the writing style, and the WIPs sound cool, then I'm likely to follow. Bonus points if someone leaves a lot of nice tags or comments.

What makes you decide against following?

In no particular order: when a blog has a lot of writing un-related reblogs aka when it's mixed use and not exclusively a writeblr, when it's mostly memes about Not writing, and when the WIPs don't sound like something I'd like to read.

I really don't care for the majority of fantasy, y'all, sorry :( I follow one or two blogs who write it, and write it really well, but if it's sprawling epic fantasy, good against evil, chosen one, holy war type of stuff, it's just not my jam. I have sat through way too much Game of Thrones against my will.

[cq-studios]

We talked about Ven’s dream, but are there any other moments in the series that stand out to you as potential KHUX references?

Okay, so, this is gonna all be from memory — with the occasional reference to the novels (I have bookmarks lol) so take the things I say with a grain of salt…

Also it’s kind of long so, under the cut we go!

The first one that comes to mind is something exclusive to the novels but when Ven and Vanitas re-fuse in the BBS an unspecified voice says this:

Which feels very Darkness coded. The “I’m home” part especially, since it’s most likely that it was removed from him at the same time as Vani (this specifically is also why I still believe Vani and Darkness are separate entities, even if they might share a body).

It doesn’t really make sense why they’d refer to themselves in the third person like this, especially since we do have another plausible explanation.

On a different note

You cannot convince me that it was not intentional that the Dream Eater Theme is one of the only tracks in the franchise to have vocalizations (the only others I can think of would be ML Dearly Beloved and One Winged Angel? Could be forgetting some tho).

Like what kind of twisted foreshadowing is that?

And the fact that it’s so ‘childish’ too. Obviously the Dandelions weren’t that young (like not under 10 I mean) but it still drives me crazy. Just AHH.

I’m not very confident this one is intentional (I have no idea when KHUX started being planned. I doubt it was all the way back pre-2008, but who knows?) but in Days (only the game, not the cutscene movie) both Marluxia and Larxene consider recruiting Roxas in their coup.

I believe Marluxia is the first one to bring it up and I can only imagine that was because of his connection to Ven. Not really much else to say here lol

Last but certainly, nearly, tangentially on topic is the Keyblade War story Yen Sid tells Sora and Riku before their Mark of Mastery Exam.

And like, yeah, no kidding CQ, but hear me out, I think it’s how it connects to Union X that makes it interesting.

So my idea is that the story actually mixes the Keyblade War MoM presumably fought in (the one ‘when he was a boy’ he tells Luxu about) with the one that he made the Foretellers cause (the one in Chi).

Green and Bold are the former

Pink and Italics are the latter

Blue, Bold, and Italics are ones that could plausibly be both

“Long ago, in the age of fairy tales the world was filled with light — a gift, many believed, from an unseen power known as ‘Kingdom Hearts’. You see, Kingdom Hearts was protected by its counterpart, the ‘X-Blade,’ so that none could ever lay hands on its mysteries.

But in time, the world was overrun by legions who wanted the light all for themselves, and the first shadows were cast upon the land. These warriors crafted ‘Keyblades�� in the image of the original X-Blade and waged a great war over Kingdom Hearts. We call this the Keyblade War.

But though the war extinguished all light from the world, the darkness could not reach the brightness inside every child's heart.

With that light, the world was remade as we know it today, with countless smaller worlds shining like stars in the sky.

As for the real X-Blade, it did not survive the battle. The two elements that created it, one of darkness and one of light, shattered into twenty pieces — seven of light, thirteen of darkness.

And as for the source of all light — the one true Kingdom Hearts — it was swallowed by the darkness, never to be seen again. As long as it remains there, even the brightest world will have its dark corners. After all, light begets darkness, and darkness is drawn to light.

For this reason, some decided to use the Keyblade — a weapon designed to conquer the light — to defend the light instead. These were the first heroes of the Keyblade.” - Narration by Yen Sid, Dream Drop Distance Novel, Page 165

So I’m gonna go over each coloured line one by one just to clarify what I think they’re referring to.

Anything said about the X-Blade is automatically about MoM’s ‘childhood’ Keyblade War to me (Green) as we do not see it or hear any reference to it at any point in the X Saga. Not even when MoM is talking to the Foretellers. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s ever mentioned in Dark Road.

The mythos could just be made up. But the X-blade is real and does summon Kingdom Hearts (a real or a fake one is yet to be decided). But also if this was a MoM Keyblade War thing, and he never told anyone about it, how would the rest of Keyblade society know? Maybe at some unseen point during MoM and Xehanort’s meeting he was told. I’m not sure. It’s a little rocky but I’m using what we have to go off of

And I am pretty sure that the X-Blade would be a thing MoM was exposed to considering it’s status as the thing all Keyblades are based on.

For a comment on the first few blue lines. I personally believe this is true for both wars, but that the wording leans a bit more into the Chi war.

The pink lines afterwards are obviously referring to the Dandelions and restoration of worlds

The next blue line…

So, we have no heccin’ clue which Kingdom Hearts is real. Like, is it yellow? Is it blue? Is it the god damn door from KH1? (It’s not the door from KH1. The door from KH1 is the Kingdom Hearts of Worlds and not the one we’re talking about lol) Not even some people working on the games are entirely sure according to one interview lol

And because of that I cannot tell you during which war the true Kingdom Hearts disappeared.

Most people, including myself initially, would assume it was in the war we see in Chi, and, honestly, I don’t think they’re in the wrong for thinking that. I think that’s what we’re supposed to think. But Yen Sid says that “the one true Kingdom Hearts” was “never to be seen again” and all instances of Kingdom Hearts appearing (both colours I mean) have shown up on at least 2 occasions.

In Fragmentary Passage (I think???) there’s a cutscene of Luxu watching the (Chi) war and the Kingdom Hearts shown there is blue. The same blue as in BBS. In KH3 its yellow the same colour as the confirmed fake Kingdom Hearts shown in Days.

If either of those Kingdom Hearts were real then they both would’ve very much shown up again by the time Yen Sid is speaking to them.

The last pink line is most likely referring to MoM taking on the Foretellers as his apprentices and them forming the Unions.

See I spent all that time explaining my thoughts about that Keyblade War legended and now I look at them so unconfidently… but it took so long to write it all out I’m gonna keep it in anyways lol

Anywho, that’s all folks.

Feel free to either add on to my points or tear them to shreds, if you’d like. I love a discussion. And prefer to be corrected if I get something wrong.

[riveroverthesky]

The marketing surrounding Ever Crisis is starting to concern me.

"We still don't know Sephiroth"

Good. Despite what remake thinks, I don't need to know every tiny detail about these characters.

That was my main complaint with Traces of Two Pasts. It was just a cheap cash grab to sell a book about Tifa and Aerith's backstories, where there was nothing in the pages that changed our perspective of the two as characters or altered our experience playing the game on a second playthrough.

The fact that game begins after the Wutai War was a deliberate move by the creators. As a kid Cloud fantasies about becoming a hero just like Sephiroth but by the time he's old enough to join Shinra, the war is already over and the world doesn't need heroes right now. We never see the war through flashbacks but we hear enough from second-hand accounts and how history is already being written by the winners.

Shinra now controls all corners of Gaia and is presented as a force of good towards the stubborn Wutai who couldn't see reason by just giving up their land so they could make more mako reactors and free clean energy for everyone :D

The planet is dying and Wutai was the final sprint to ensure Shinra's monopoly on a now desolate planet where flowers can't grow.

Wutai is so scarred by this loss it becomes a tourist attraction and gets it's own sideplot in the form of Yuffie who joins Cloud's party in hopes of returning her homeland to it's former glory.

There is so much left unsaid about the Wutai War but the aftermath is felt throughout the game, which is why I'm not interested in a prequel where Sephirith feels sad for conquering said territory and murdering its people, or possibly changing the circumstances in order to rid him of any responsibility.

Because the original game did an amazing job highlighting Sephirith's best and worst qualities. He is a powerful warrior and skilled tactician who can lead his troops to victory but does not question the destruction he brings in his wake. He was even given the name "The Demon of Wutai" for his role in single handling conquering it and had his face plastered on every poster to sell this false image of him to further Shinra's own agenda (which worked because Cloud, Zack, Genesis and Angeal all recruited to become just like Sephiroth).

We know very little about Sephiroth but he is complex enough to get the point across. He cares for his men and puts the wellbeing of others first, but he is still a tool of Shinra and if ordered to do something then he will do it most efficiently with the least amount of bloodshed.

I don't want this to be a Crisis Core situation, where we take all these well-established scenes and ruin them by shoving more characters who don't need to be there, or pull an Anakin Skywalker where we muddy Sephiroth's character by over-explaining everything to the point it destroys the reputation of the original source material.

[neverlosehope94]

Its been a shitty week...

I thought this night was turning around.

Had dinner with my parents and Anthony cleaned up warmed my car up to go pick up my mom and my meds then to go return something for her and myself and back home.

Played a fun grinch Christmas game with Anthony and my mom.... then I got my basket/gift from this group I participated in where you get a person you get a gift for and they get you a gift (seems to be the only gift I get since I get forgotten about for Christmas. Which is fine im used to it by now.) So I was excited and she really did too much and went over the top and I cried happy tears.

I've been feeling really low lately so simple tasks and things feel like a lot I was feeling better and looking forward to taking a shower but when I pulled the handle something cracked and it got stuck popped outwards and wouldn't push back in to turn the water off.... and of course my drain drains slow so I was worried it would flood the bathroom (and of course its upstairs...) so I grabbed a knife because I didn't have a screw driver to try to see if I could pop the handles cover off to get to the screw to undo the handle part to get to the inside to see if I could push the inner part in by hand. I got it popped off and unscrewed but I couldn't push it back in... so instantly I feared I'd have to tell my dad so like a child I called my mom from my phone to come from the living room to my room to help in my bathroom. She came and freaked out about it and didn't know what to do either so asked my dad and he angrily refused to help so she told me to call my boyfriend.... so I did (he was asleep at 6pm as he has to be up early for work because they are finishing putting a roof on a house they are building..) woke him up trying to fill him in fast about what was going on and what we needed to do... and he told us we needed to go to water heater and find the water supply shut off thingy or something... but then my dad decided to come help so I told my boyfriend sorry I gotta go. Hung up and then my dad came in instantly cussing me out. Calling me every name in the book. Telling me how I ruin and break everything. And im the reason my parents can't ever have anything nice. And more insulting mean horrible things. And the usual comment thrown in there "Your gonna have to grow up sometime kid!" Angrily... It was like a flash back of my childhood. Except even worse my son got to hear some of it and see his adult mother ugly sob in the kitchen corner until I realized he was by me now and tried to push back my feelings as his sweet little innocent self hugged me and told me it was okay.

And then my dad going to bed right after because he was so angry....and my mom coming by me to do damage control..( as usual). Telling me he didn't mean any of it. He was just angry. He just says stuff he doesn't mean he's just flustered that everything seems to be breaking the house is a little over 30 years old....And in between sobs of me apologizing and trying to speak and not hyperventilate I tell her how sorry I am and how I didn't mean to and that I just pulled normally how I do every time I shower I didn't do anything different...that I promise I'll pay for it to be fixed. She tells me its not my fault and that because we have well water and not city water it rusts quicker and its all old original never been replaced. But even though I know all of this I still feel like shit. I feel like my dad hates me and thinks very little of me. And then after all of that I finally check my phone and see my boyfriend has texted me about what I needed to do...I told him my dad just got the handle off the hallway bathroom to put on mine to shut the water off... for now and he then told me he was wide awake and couldn't go back to sleep.... I apologized and told him how sorry I was and how I didn't want to call and wake him but, my mom insisted I call him since my dad wasn't helping at first and we were panicked when the water wasn't draining as quickly as the water was coming out and I mentioned how this week has been a shit week and I wish it was Friday already so I could escape by him. And he said he agreed he had a tough week at work in the cold weather and mud especially without adhd meds (he hasn't been medicated in years sometimes I share if I have any extras since he doesn't have insurance and can't afford it without... but I didn't have anymore extra to give him and I set a boundary recently not giving him the ones I need so I don't miss doses because it messes with me when I have in the past...so he has none and has no motivation or energy to do anything...) so without any meds he said its harder and mentioned how hard it was for him to work on building this house and the roof how he's gonna jump off...

I said that isn't funny. And he said your right its not funny its hillarious. And I told him I didn't think it was funny at all... especially after getting a goodbye letter from one of the important people in my life and also because i love him and would be devastated to lose him as well.

Said he wouldn't but he thinks about it sometimes.... then we segwayed to mental health and how I wanted him to call a number I gave him for a dr office that takes people without insurance and bases what you pay off your income so he can make an apt to start getting meds he needs... then he said yeah so I can get my own adhd meds and I said yeah and depression meds too thats just as important... and then he mentioned a doctor telling him he had post partum after his dad died and I just said jokingly you didn't have a baby? And then he texted saying it doesn't have to have a baby to have a baby and it didn't make sense so I think there was spellcheck wrong so I said "huh"

And he said Idk Katie I'm not a fucking doctor it's just what I was told .... and after my night I didn't want to fight and that hurt my feelings after being yelled at by my dad and had telling him that... so I just said "Oof....okay sorry."

He just said Sorry im tired goodnight I love you.

I'm over tonight. At least I know I'll sleep even if I'm not tired because my eyes are swollen from crying so much i'll probably be able to cry myself to sleep at least.

[bh-writingdump]

C@ve Sl@ve

Cards

[1st Draft]

Board games were a massacre as a kid. Every game weighted with prizes. your oldest brother was the best. Easily mopping the board between your father and younger siblings. Unlike when you won, your father’s speeches were filled with critique that you soaked up like a sponge. Oddly enough, they never extended to your eldest. The prime example of greatness and perfection.

Unlike card games, they were banned. You’re not entirely sure why. you’d asked but all you got were terse answers of cheaters and “beneath us.” As if we couldn’t look up where our father came from.

Though it did provide a degree of freedom. Not meaning until attached to the cards meant no expectations. Whether you were trash or the next card master, it didn’t matter without a scoreboard, it felt euphoric.

Before your father pulled you from public school, one of your teachers began math part of the day with a deck of cards, declaring you’d play Kings in the Corner.

Unlike most of school that was boring and dull, every card had a magic to them. you eagerly snatched up a deck. Regularly, making an utter fool of yourself mixing up the order of the cards. Other classmates having to correct you time and time again that Queen came after Jack and King after Queen. It felt as if the whole world opened up to you. People you had no clue how to talk to you’d ask to play cards with. In short order, you’d acquired a small gaggle of players.

One was a talker but most of us kept to ourselves, enjoying just being around others without the pressure of talking.

That is, until a teacher found us playing in class. Reported it. My cards taken.

After that talking to by your father, you played by yourself. The teacher who lent you the cards watched you draw duplicate cards so to have a copy they couldn’t take. You found a fresh unopened deck in your cubby each time you drew cards in class. Usually happening right after your father confiscating your new pack.

By the time you got older, you got better at hiding them. When you found that secret pocket, recognizing the shape, you told yourself it was a pack of cigarettes. No way its anything else.

Then again, you open the pocket to find an old deck. One of those casino ones with the hole punch in the center. You glance around, cursing the damn habit. Nobody’s going to take them. worst that could happen is the wolf drools all oer them.

You thumb through the cards. Some of the corners are bent. Edges tinted golden brown with age, possessing a distinct sweet musk separate form the jacket. How it originally smells when you took it, faintly of honey and cigarettes. For a terrifying moment, you wonder if after everything you can’t remember how to play. for a second, you forgot the zip code of your old address and another time you could’ve sworn you heard Crest whispering in your ear like a ghost – too far from the water to be possible.

And yet, the moment you set down the first cards for a game of Kings in the Corner you found your hand moving of its own accord. Each consecutive game you played, you felt more and more like yourself. So absorbed in the game, you missed the orange streak flying overhead but you did hear the growl behind you. You leap up, collecting all the cards in a blink of an eye. You very nearly tumble down the hill if not for the wolf dragging you back by the coat.

Though, the moment their eyes land on the cards, you freeze. The wolf’s eyes had swollen to the size of saucers. They only did that for deer. You move toward the exit. a moment turning your back you see the wolf shift, like a shadow, morphing into something else. Lankier, its arms stretching out to wrap around your card hand.

You kick with renewed fervor you never knew you had. Biting and gnashing and screaming until a cough interrupts your thoughts just long enough to realize the wolf’s legs were thinning, shorter, a hand clutched y our wrist with digits rather than clawed paws.

A canine-faced bipedal meets your gaze, unblinkingly. They drag you to the floor, putting the hand with the cards down. Visions of poker, crazy 8s, bullshit, garbage, cribbage, a billion other games you didn’t recognize but had vague recollections of.

By the time you opened your real eyes, you felt a giddy kick. You.. you know?”

The wolf inclines their head but says nothing else. Confirmation? Or just that they heard? Who knows.

“Wait, how did you--?”

More flashes of board games. You chuckle. Guess the wolf wants to keep some secrets up their sleeve, you dismiss the question, setting up Kings in the Corner.

A warm up round would be good.

It felt weird dealing for two. you had to concentrate harder. Usually, you played 3 hands if you lacked an opponent. Two felt unnatural. Unlucky. Yet somehow, a warmth blooms in your chest as you attempt to shove down the smile.

Hours flew by as you two played back and forth. It was tough to play games like poker but black jack had a moment and garbage a lovely time. Though, on crazy-8s, you got to see the wolf monster’s brow furrow which you needed to see again. It was hilarious. Bone shouldn’t do that, most certainly not canine, yet it did.

By the time the sun went down and the wind picked up, the cards disappeared. So did Mx Wolf as you called them. The emotion brute years their ugly head, blinking down at the absent space where the cards once were. they didn’t move from that space for an entire hour. So long that you wondered if the beast was broken. That nice feeling quickly diminished.

One card wouldn’t hurt. You pulled out a Joker. To your surprise, the wolf back straightened, sockets popped out of and back into place. The tall hadn’t gone but it swayed in a subdued fashion.

You swallow. It’d been so long since you spoke to anyone with an expression face, it felt strange speaking expecting someone to actually understand you.

“Do you remember me?”

Mx Wolf cocks their head to the side, regarding you curiously. They sit criss cross, unbothered by nakedness but does place a blanket in their lap, a place you’d been avoiding like the plague. They squint. Then their eye lights swell for a moment. A brief vision of them watching you play. Your brows grim with determination but despite your best efforts, there’s a slight upturn to your lip, showing off your dimpled smile.

“But when you’re a wolf—”

Al of a sudden, their hands come up to cover your mouth. Not restingly so but the sort of panic you’d scoop up your cards.

More flashes. Ard game after card game.

Though the night was growing long, you were far past thinking. “War.” You yawn. Splitting the deck, maybe they’d be more chatty with a card in their hand. As you predicted, their posture relaxed into an overexaggerate slouch that couldn’t be comfortable.

Letting them keep the card, you said, “so you don’t remember me. Before..” you tap the cards.

There’s the slightest hint of hesitation before they pick up the card, like it’s taking all their concentration. They shrug.

Huh, that’s interesting.

“you cursed or something?” They keep playing mechanically like they were ignoring you. “I’d rather you out than Mx I’ll Like Your Balls. Gie me something to work with.”

For the briefest moment, you see a flash of Sans. Back before you bludgeoned him, looking on a cracked mirror, flexing less scars even when you knew him.

Your heart races like a horse out of the track. “What does he have to do with it? He’s.. he’s gone.”

Mx wolf places cards faster. Dealing the cards so fast that you barely can keep up with what he’s throwing down. A part of you frantically wants to keep up. Like your terrified but it’s not yours.

The card slips form your hands, spilling on the cool sone floor. “Why are you scared of a dead man?”

Mx Wolf starts gathering up cards. Like you were playing on the playground again. Only tentatively connected though a lone of gaming but not cut that thought off. It’s idiotic to get butt hurt over this. If what Wolf is saying, you’ve just met.

But that didn’t mean you’d let them get away.

You grab ahold of their hand. “last man who ignored me got bludgeoned to death, I suggest you—”

For the briefest moment, you see a rock being thrown at your face by human hand. You leap back tumbling, staring wide at the wolf again.

Growling, like legit growling.

Like they might eat you.

.

.

.

[CS: Card] pg7 -->

[elfwreck]

Original report (waybacked PDF) is from 2007. That's Gen Z kids.

When I, Gen-Xer, was about 12 - in my rural home, I had about a three-mile range. (Could've pushed it to more, but didn't want to walk that far.) In the city, it was about a mile. Not that anyone was checking; again, that was about the distance I wanted to walk, and besides, that covered all of "downtown."

My kids? Closer to that 300 yards limit at the same age. Not because I wanted to restrict them, but we live next to a freeway on-ramp and between two sets of train tracks... and there is absolutely nothing kid-friendly within a half-mile for them to visit.

I spent my 21st birthday bar-hopping. My kids spent their 21st birthdays at home with a nice meal. I don't think either of them wanted to go bar-hopping - but yeah, as a society, we've removed a LOT of teen-friendly options.

See also: End of Third Places, switch from video game arcades to home consoles (hey, then every kid has to buy their own copy--great for game-makers!), shutdown of malls or restrictions on youth at them, closure of public parks, reduced/removed after-school programs, etc. Plus the places that think it's illegal for a 12-year-old to walk to the corner store unsupervised.

I am, however, DELIGHTED to hear that the booze & other vices industries are panicking over Gen Z not going out to party. Like, you spent 30-odd years removing all the places and ways people can hang out together and have fun outside of someone's personal house, and... guess what, when people hit milestone events (graduation, milestone birthdays, job promotion, whatever), they don't immediately flock to the Party Zone that they have never been welcome at. How shocking.

It sucks that Gen Z does not get to party, does not have good celebration options. REALLY sucks that that's often because school or job has decided to tell them not to celebrate, rather than just not having places to go. I'm just not upset over party capitalism taking a hit.

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

[wrinkledparchment]

a game of cat and mouse | sebastian sallow

BRIEF DISCLAIMER: THIS AUTHOR DOES NOT SUPPORT OR TOLERATE TRANSPHOBIA OR DISCRIMINATION OF ANY KIND

Summary: Sebastian takes you on the path to Hogsmeade, but you both soon discover a game is afoot. You try your best to compete with Sebastian’s charm and witty remarks, but you learn that Sebastian is always one step ahead of you.

Word Count: 2,709 words

Author’s Note: Okay I originally did not like this but then I edited and accidentally made it 600 words longer and now I actually think it’s really cute. Tried this sort of “game” concept and I think it’s officially cute so this is the catalyst/stepping stone in my very scattered retelling of yours and Sebastian’s relationship over the course of the game. I will eventually put them in the order you should be reading them in my masterlist once it actually begins making sense but also my goal is that every single one can be read as a oneshot too.

Content Warnings: None--plain fluff. I will absolutely be making a fic with absolutely unhinged Sebastian soon though, don’t worry. 

Your footsteps on the cobblestone pathway in the North Exit of Hogwarts were barely audible amongst the chatter of the other students, the chirping of the birds about, and the grasshopper’s song amidst the grass that ruffled in the wind. The water fountain ahead glistened in the mid-afternoon sun, and all the potted plants captured your attention immediately. It smelled so fresh in this area of Hogwarts, whereas most places in the castle smelled like dust and old books. There was something about the sun on your face that already felt so much more inviting than usual, but after looking through the small sea of students, you really perked up when Sebastian’s warm smile stood out amongst the crowd.  

Your pace picked up to a light trot, making your way to him as fast as you could. “Sebastian! Thank you for agreeing to come to Hogsmeade with me!”  

“Ah! My new ‘charge’, I’m glad to accompany you,” he smiled, leaning just slightly forward. “I was told by Professor Weasley that you’re in dire need of supplies and I’m to accompany you into Hogsmeade for them. Is this your first foray into the village?”

You peeked at the exit, watching as a few other students came and went, so excited both to get out of the castle and to go somewhere with the only Hogwarts student to interest you thus far. There was something so dryly sarcastic in his tone, something so charming in his words, and something so enchanting about his smile that you couldn’t help but go along with whatever he says, trying to counter his clever remarks with wits of your own. You finally looked back into his eyes from your focus on the path but could do nothing except nod at his question—when you finally glanced back, his eyes had never left your face.  

“Well then, I’m sure you’ll love it, it’s quite the charming little place. Shall we?” He gestured his arm out to the path, and your smile widened, following him. It was a slow-paced walk, more of a saunter, and all you could do was focus on how your footsteps fell into sync with ease. “You know, I was very glad Professor Weasley asked me to accompany you today.”

“As am I,” you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough to mask the nervousness in your voice, and immediately after, you closed your eyes and turned your head forward, casting away all the anxieties and butterflies.  

Sebastian was still facing his head to you when you opened your eyes, “I think I’d like to get to know the only person who’s bested me in a duel.”

“Apologies for breaking your streak. Would you have wished I held back and let you win?” You watched the corner of his mouth curve into a sly smile, eyes focused solely on yours, declining to look where he was walking and instead bask in the beauty of you, the new fifth year.

“Never,” there was a slight pause between his words, instead communicating with his eyes this challenge, this tension that grew with every word, every glance, every graze of his knuckles on your hand. “--but the way I see it, I’d be wise to keep an eye on you.” For some reason, that left you breathless for a moment, but you quickly gathered the pieces of you that broke off every time he left you stunned and put yourself back together.  

“I hope you enjoy the view, then,” you spoke, still breathless in the best kind of way.  

He looked forward again, maybe somewhat nervous but more put-together than you ever appeared after one of his flirtatious comments. “I think I would enjoy the view next to you rather than across from you. Maybe we could duel together next time, instead.”

A proposal, the first commitment to him you’d make. A team. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“I can’t give you any other chances to knock me off my feet.” As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he turned to you again, his eyes so magnetic that you couldn’t turn away--no matter how much you tried to rip your gaze away, you couldn’t, worried that you would give the game away in seconds.  

Maybe, Sebastian was as good at reading people as he was charming, and perhaps he could see right through you. He had known every word to say, had prepared every comment, rehearsed as soon as Weasley had told him to come with you. It felt like everything you threw at him, all of the looks, accidental hand-brushes, every attempt at a flirtatious comment you had, he was able to counter in 2 seconds flat. You may have beaten him at dueling, but this far more dangerous game you’d begun has him besting you at every turn.  

The beauty of Hogwarts Valley was truly nothing to sniff at. Birds flew ahead of you, the green grass and rough face of the rocky hills on the left side of the path were marvelous, and the two waterfalls ahead filled you with tranquility. What had given you peace, however, was being able to walk next to him, sometimes in silence, sometimes coated in laughter. Even when you began to lean into his path, with your shoulders brushing, he held his ground, never giving you an inch. He didn’t flinch his hand away when your pinkies touched. No, the beauty of Hogwarts Valley was stunning, but found its rival in the man next to you.  

You tried to distract yourself from all this jargon in your brain, tried to fill the air of tension with more than silence. “Thank you for agreeing to join with me. I’m surprised Professor Weasley let me choose who to bring rather than sending a random prefect.”

“You asked for me?” He almost seemed flattered, surprised, and heartwarmingly embarrassed all at once. He was finally the person between the two of you to end up breathless, but even with this defeat, he never showed the cards he didn’t want you to see, still could gather himself so quickly. “I suppose it is surprising, given my detention record.”

You giggled under your breath, glancing away. You couldn’t say you were surprised at him being rebellious—among his other dangerous curiosities you’d picked up on. “You spend a lot of time in detention, then?”  

He frowned playfully, eyebrows raised, “Just enough to keep me well-rounded.” He integrated his flirtatious comments, his compliments, his cards into every conversation so skillfully it was starting to make you upset. “I should really be the one thanking you, actually,” he started, “This outing with you saved me from getting detention from the librarian... again. Madam Scribner was on the hunt for me—as is often the case.”

You didn’t bother to hide your amusement this time, and allowed him to bask in your happiness, reveal just a little how terribly hilarious he was. You shared a glance with him this time, still laughing, and there was something about the way his eyes sparkled at the sound. That look, it was like a warning—a premonition—that once your heart had decided it was his, it could never be anything or anyone else’s, that your fates would be permanently intertwined. You turned away before it was too late.

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” you mused, still staring at the path ahead instead of him, not out of reverence for the surroundings but because you could not handle looking at him again, watching the corners of his mouth quirk. “How did you manage to get on the librarian’s bad side, anyway?”

“Well, I suspect it’s a matter of differing opinions. She thinks I shouldn’t be allowed in the Restricted Section, and I, on the other hand, am inclined to disagree.”

He enjoys every bit of your laughter all too much, watches your face too closely until you worry you have spinach in your teeth. He’s all too skilled at this game of cat and mouse you’re playing, too good at making you laugh so quickly and he got you becoming interested in everything he has to say with such little effort it was bewildering. The path the two of you were on had long since turned to dirt, and before you knew it, Sebastian’s shoulder rubs against yours again, trying to steer you to the left.  

There is a cacophony of beautiful sounds, chirps and buzzes all coming from a concentrated area of a few bushes, and you recognize the look of them immediately. “This is an excellent spot to gather lacewing flies. They’re pretty to look at, but if you stew them long enough, they make a powerful potion ingredient.”

He crouched near a bush, using pinpoint precision with his fingers to grab one and put it in one of the smallest glass jars you’ve ever seen. He glances back at you, tilting his head to signal you to come closer. Stepping as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the little bugs, you began to crouch closer to Sebastian, knees bumping with his as you try to maintain your balance.  

You just stare at them for a little bit, but suddenly, one flies right at you and lands on your face. You try to hold your breath, going cross-eyed trying to look at the one on your cheek, but soon, you see Sebastian’s fingers coming into your vision, slowly approaching the lacewing fly positioned on your cheek. As his hand gets closer and his robes begin to fall down his arms, you feel the soft cloth brush against your jaw, and you’re so stunned by how close he is that you can’t breathe. You glance at his eyes, so focused and narrowed in on the fly that dare touch you. As far as Sebastian is concerned, every creature should know by watching how you flush every time he’s near you that only he can touch you, caress your cheek, be the reason you’re breathless. 

His fingers finally grasp around the little bug, dropping it quickly into the jar and covering it with his hand. You decide not to think too much about the warmth of his skin or how close his face was to yours, and instead about this rather painstakingly time-consuming method of gathering flies. “Is this really the best method of procuring the lacewing flies?” you questioned, and he seems to have been caught.  

“Most students grab a branch and shake them off into the jar and cover it up as fast as they can, but I find this method much more rewarding,” he responded quickly, always seeming to have an explanation for his quirks.  

“By squishing bugs between your monstrously large fingers?”

“Precisely.”

You both turned your heads quickly as you heard thumps and what sounds like an eagle calling from the Forbidden Forest. You both bolted up to stand, and for the first time, the two of you begun to run to get a better chance at seeing them. “They’re magnificent,” you breathed, smile so wide on your face, stunned by the beauty of this new world you’d been shown. You turned to Sebastian, ready to see his stunned face, but he is already looking at you, smiling just as widely as you were.

You continue past the bridge, trying to brush off the anxiety that being with Sebastian, so close and yet so far, gave you. Sebastian, trying to keep up with your pace, is huffing but still continues to talk. He never seems to be able to shut his mouth around you, or at all, for that matter.  

“It looks like they came from the Forbidden Forest to the left. Out of bounds to all students.” You could hear the annoyance in his voice.  

“Not so ‘out of bounds’ to you, is it?” you quickly remarked, smile evident in the tone of your voice.  

There was even more sarcasm present in his voice, “How did you guess?” There is a small exchange of laughter between the two of you, and this time, neither of you dared to spare a glance at one another, focused on the path ahead. “Hogsmeade is just ahead, past those ruins.”

You come to a skidding stop as soon as you do pass the ruins, and turn yourself right around, climbing around the rubble and barrels, and Sebastian stops and wonders to himself if he’s befriended a maniac. But it’s just then that he hears a small click and then the creaking of wood, and you return to him with a small burlap bag filled with extra galleons. “Looks like I’ll be able to spare some treats at Honeyduke’s, too.”

“Wow, you have a really keen eye.” You smile at him and turn just ever so slightly away from him before booking it down the path. “Hey, wait up!” He’s huffing again, just as he catches up to you. “Have you discovered any of the famed Hogwarts secrets yet?”

You only turn back to him briefly, still focused on your path forward, “The castle is just positively enormous, I haven’t scratched the surface. I’m sure you have, though.”

He laughed, beginning to be just a few paces ahead of you, “I can’t go around telling you all of my secrets, now, can I?” His voice is echoing back at you, and all you can do is laugh, catch your breath, and try to push yourself to run just a little bit faster. Even as you passed a carriage being driven by Thestrals, which you could tell Sebastian could see, you continued running as fast as possible.  

You passed numerous trees, sharp turns--at least for your speeds, and even a very distressed Mr. Moon, who didn’t stop you two to talk. You both slowed your pace as the awfully disorganized and not very helpful signs marked the entrance of Hogsmeade, beautiful trees lining the path to a brilliant bridge into the town.  

The buildings, the people and the sweet smell all overwhelm your senses. Sebastian fell into step beside you, guiding you through the lightly packed streets, past the very quirky and slightly unstable stone buildings. “I’ve got to go look for something for my sister, so you’ll have to do your shopping alone, I’m afraid.”

“How positively terrible,” you sneak in, just before slipping in your curiosity  about everything Sebastian. “Is your sister a Slytherin too?”

There is a change in demeanor when his sister is brought up, and Sebastian stiffens, standing up straighter, eyebrows coming to rest heavily above those eyes you loved so much. “She is—or, she was. She’s not well at the moment,” and he sags in posture, “but she’ll be better soon and back at Hogwarts.”

You smile, and even though you’ve known him for exactly a few passing moments, a few lingering touches, a few flirtatious and tension-filled smiles, you can sense that there is a lie there--a hopeful lie. Finally, after all this time of such a skilled game, he had inadvertently let his poker face slip and showed you his hand. “When she does return, I do hope you’ll introduce me to her,” and you can’t shut your mouth before your thought slips out of your lips, “Anyone dear to you is dear to me too.”

Just like that, with an arguably more innocent and naïve comment than Sebastian had slipped all this time—you won. There was something on his face, the furrow in his brow or the look in his eyes or the way his lips quivered, you couldn’t decide—but his face brought forth only one thought. Adoration.  

“Very well then,” and with that, he stepped closer to you, offering a smile, and leaned in to whisper in your ear with his hand on your shoulder, “I’ll be back for you.” His hand slipped off as he walked past you, and when you turn, you can tell he had just looked back at you a moment before. The warmth of his breath on your ear lingers, and the place on your shoulder where his hand once laid burned when he left, marking you forever, distracting you throughout every store, on every path, until all that was left in your mind was him, him, him.

He had won.

. . .

toeing the line

[phantomwarrior12]

Crimson Cabal

Crimson Days, she'd called it.

Acrius isn't sure what, exactly, that entails. He'd asked in passing as they walked through the Tower; banners and all sorts of odd decorations had been strewn around the Courtyard - all of it seeming to stem from a secluded corner with a massive Titan.

But the Young Wolf had offered nothing more on the matter.

The Valus couldn't even decipher her voice this time - it's ordinarily so easy for him to read her on matters like this. After the Festival of the Lost incident, he'd opted to try and partake in more human customs as she has for him aboard the flagship.

But this particular instance? The Young Wolf is a mystery.

Acrius waits patiently as his partner speaks with the Gunsmith, discussing modifications to a pulse rifle or something or other. He's far too enthralled in tracing the swirling ribbons with his eyes - they seem to form an oddly geometric shape Acrius is unfamiliar with.

"Are you ready?"

Her voice beside him jars the Valus from his idle thoughts and his gaze falls to the Gunslinger beside him.

"What are those shapes meant to represent?" He points to the overhanging banister.

The Guardian looks up, angling her head. "That's a heart," she supplies nonchalantly, "We associate them with love and affection."

"...that doesn't look like your organ?"

The Young Wolf snorts a laugh, "It's not meant to, love. It's…I don't know the origins of it exactly but we believe that's where we feel love, in our hearts." She reaches up, patting over top where his heart is, "The shape is more or less just a representation and if you angle two organs," she gives him a teasing look, "together, they form that shape. Two hearts becoming one."

"...seems," he pauses, noting her expectant head tilt. "Sentimental?"

She snorts, "Smooth save, lover boy." She gives him a light push before she starts past him.

Acrius sighs and falls into step beside the Guardian, "Humans have so many…events to celebrate weird things. The Dawning. Guardian Games?" He shakes his head. "There aren't even battles commemorating these things. They're just–"

"Fun," she interjects as they make their way back to the hangar. "The word you're looking for, my Valus, is fun."

"I was going to see needlessly leisurely but sure." Acrius grumbles, maneuvering to fit through the doorway with some trouble.

The Guardian shakes her head, stepping through the threshold without any issue.

"I think you're just…uptight."

Uptight?

There's nothing upright about wanting a reason for celebration. This event is also based on sentimental nonsense. No wonder the Vanguard–

His gaze falls to his partner, her gaze fixed on the stairs ahead of them as they walk.

She doesn't complain of his events, does she?

The Valus heaves a sigh, pausing long enough to gaze back at the Courtyard. A moment of reflection is all he needs to realize she's tried to keep a passive air about the whole thing. She held no…enthusiasm as she has when she explained the other 'holidays'.

So why is she dispassionate about this one?

He'd think she'd be more invested in this one. She has him, after all. And while he's fairly new to calling this love? His feelings for her have grown in the months since their binding.

He doesn't know that he could imagine his life without her now.

Returning to a silent bedroom now is torture enough when she's on assignment. Spending time at his station when she is aboard the flagship is even worse. He can't simply request a leave every time his partner returns so he can sleep beside her.

How very irritatingly sentimental of him.

But then again, the Guardian has never been shy about her feelings. Her affection for him, when it came about, suddenly became glaringly obvious. He can recall the first time she told him she loved him like it was just this morning. A tender moment between them in the aftermath of her first death in front of him…at his hand.

She's said it so many times since and he has grown to ache in its absence. To hear her utter it? It stirs a flutter in his chest, a warmth and tenderness foreign to his person until he met her.

But now? Now she utters it and yet, her talk about its significance - of love's significance - is bland and muted.

Acrius has to know why.

"Do you not enjoy this holiday, Little One?"

Her head lifts and angles toward him though her focus remains forward.

"I wouldn't say that–"

"Then why do you sounds so…forlorn when you speak of its role in this event." He finishes as his hand grasps her shoulder and pulls her to a halt in front of him.

The Guardian doesn't look up at him and that is his next clue something is amiss. He kneels, his hand shifting to cradle the side of her head but she pulls it away.

"What is it?" He coaxes softly, his hand falling away from her form.

"It's nothing–"

"I'd like to think I know you a bit better than that by now, Guardian." He returns stubbornly and he notes the way her shoulders sag.

"Talk to me, Little One. Let me help."

"It's not something you can help with, Acrius." She steps into him, pressing her form to his chest and his worry only grows. A large hand settles along her back, his brow furrowing as he holds her close.

"Let me try."

Silence hangs over them for a long while - the bustling of the Tower forgotten beyond this quiet passage. Between the hangar and the courtyard, they're afforded a small reprieve from the noise and the prying eyes of civilians and Vanguard alike.

"...we had a Cabal binding." She begins softly, uncertainly, "When it was decided, Zavala asked me if I'd ever want to do one on Earth. At the time, you and I didn't get along, I told him not to…because marriage meant something different to me."

Acrius's brow furrows, "What does it mean to you, Guardian?"

She hesitates, a degree of guilt in her voice when she finally speaks, "That I chose you. That this was more than a formality and there was somehow affection involved."

"But…there is affection now?" He draws back a fraction to see her, "Isn't there?"

Isn't that what she meant when she told him she loved him? Isn't that what it means in the first place? Affection? Tenderness? An unwavering bond between partners?

"Of course…we didn't get to choose each other but we did find," she searches for the right wording, “A certain amount of choice with each other.” She looks up at him, lifting a hand to smooth along the edge of his mask.

“We made the choice to love one another.”

Acrius’s eyes soften as he inclines his head into her touch, “Is it a choice you regret, Guardian?” He doesn’t recognize the uncertainty in his voice and…the fear? Is that what it is?

The idea that she could regret what they’ve become? That she may yet resent him for not only his behavior when they first met but his nature since? That stirs something deep in him - something pained and, no, agonized. Something like despair if this has all been for naught.

But when his partner presses a kiss to the bridge between his eyes, some of that panic ebbs. Yet, he finds himself drawing her closer, unconsciously curling fingers around her cloak in a silent plea.

Could you regret me, my love?

Another kiss and his head angles weakly.

Please, tell me.

The Young Wolf meets his gaze then, stroking a thumb over a patch of skin just above his mask. “I could never regret that choice, Acrius.” She assures him with a tender smile. “You make all of this madness a little more tolerable. I don’t return and feel as though I’m still drowning when I’m in your arms. I know nowhere safer than right here.”

She presses another kiss to her face before she speaks again.

“Loving you…is the best decision I ever made, Acrius.”

The Valus has an impulse to crush her against his chest in a loving embrace, but that would surely shatter most of her bones. He aches to kiss her but he cannot stand the idea of removing his mask in public. There is relief and desperation at war in his chest and all he can do is lower his head against hers and pray it is enough to sate the whirlwind of emotion.

Irritatingly sentimental…but he doesn’t care.

The Guardian nuzzles his face for a long moment before she wraps her arms around his neck as much as she can and hugs him impossibly tight for a creature so small.

“I love you, Acrius.”

“I love you, too, Guardian.” He murmurs, pressing his face against her shoulder.

It’s only after a weighted minute or two that he realizes she never truly explained why she felt this way about Crimson Days. He could ignore it, leave things as they were but he needed to know.

“If you don’t dislike this holiday, what has you so dispassionate about it, Little One?” He asks softly though he doesn’t pull back.

Her arms tighten around his neck and she presses closer.

“Because I’ve been wanting to ask you something…something important but menial at the same time. It’s stupid really.”

“Out with it, Hunter,” he chides with a soft chuckle. “It can’t be all that bad.”

She pulls back, her hands framing his face in a comically too small contrast. He can see a smile in her eyes despite the determination in her features.

“Acrius…will you marry me?” She asks softly, though there’s an assuredness to her tone. No fear just unequivocally awkward about the entire question.

Acrius stares at her for a lengthy instant before a laugh rumbles through him. “Yes, my love, I will marry you.”

She surges forward to hug him, but the force by which she does it is enough to force the Valus back and he ends up on his ass with his partner sprawled over him. They share a laugh, she mutters an apology but he’s impressed by her strength and dismisses it almost as quickly as it leaves her lips.

She relaxes atop him, curling around him as much as she can and Acrius holds her.

“That was all that kept you…contained?”

She huffs a sound of annoyance but they both know it’s not genuine.

“Well, Crimson Days is about love and…all that goes with it.” Her head lifts and she smiles at him tenderly, her feigned irritation long forgotten. “I didn’t get to choose you myself, but I got to choose to love you. And now I get to marry you in our customs,” she settles back down with a sigh of relief.

“Which means, in the end, I chose you, Acrius, to be my partner.”

That certainly is a roundabout way of thinking about why the holiday bothered her but Acrius isn’t about to question it. He has his answer and he has his Guardian.

He can’t ask for anymore.

But perhaps this one time…

“Hunter?”

She makes a sound of acknowledgement but her head does not lift from his chest. He starts to sit up, she looks up at him with something like protest in her eyes that he quiets almost immediately with a brush of his thumb over her cheek and jaw.

“...why don’t you show me more of these,” he angles his head with a tender smile, “Crimson Day festivities?”

Her eyes brighten, her spine straightening as she stares up at him before her eyes narrow and her head tilts.

“I thought they were nonsense.”

“You say they’re fun, I’ll indulge you, Little One. So long as I don’t have to dance.”

She laughs, “You weren’t that bad.”

“Clumsy is an apt descriptor for that atrocity.”

“But I enjoyed it,” she grins, climbing out of his lap and stepping back to give him space to get on his feet.

She’s happy again, that’s a relief. He doesn’t often get her in this sort of mood - carefree and substantially more energetic. He’ll take it. All of it. Her. The silly holidays - all of it if it means she keeps smiling at him this way.

In the end, this is all he wants.

As he straightens to his full height, the Young Wolf slips her hand in his - substantially smaller yet somehow, a perfect fit for them.

“Lead on, Little One. Show me the wonders of your Crimson Days.”

And she does.

—

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @florence-and-the-machinegun @orbdotexe

Acrius’s Guardians: @scattershotmind

All the Cabal: @rockygetsrolling

[potter-imagines]

Left Waiting at The Three Broomsticks (Fred Weasley x Read)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could have a Fred Weasley imagine where he pisses off his gf somehow and so she gives him the silent treatment and only talks to literally everyone (including George) but him so he gets all jealous and pouty lol. Eventually he gets her to start talking to him again and then it’s all fluff etc. Hopefully this wasn’t a confusing request! Thank you!! :)

Warning: Tiny bit of sexual content towards the end, little bit of swearing, kinda angst at the beginning ?? and a lil towards the end ?? I think that's all, a lot of fluff scattered about

Word Count: 9.5k (I am so sorry I got carried away)

Two hours. Y/n had spent two hours waiting for him. Two stupid hours on a Saturday night that she could have spent elsewhere making something productive of her day but no. The last two hours Y/n had been seated in a small booth in the corner of The Three Broomsticks waiting patiently for her boyfriend, Fred Weasley.

The thing that infuriated her the most was that it was his idea in the first place! Originally, the couple had planned a stay-in date in her dorm room for the night before, Friday, but other plans came up. Fred got tangled up in a prank with George that had landed him in detention with Snape for the night. Yes, it annoyed her but what could she do? It wasn’t like Snape would excuse Fred because she tells him they have a date. If anything, Snape would hold him back longer.

When Fred and George were finally dismissed, it was nearly eleven at night and Fred was sprinting down through the dungeons to the common room. Their arrangement was for eight and he was praying to anyone listening above that she was still awake, but not furious at him.

Skipping up the transporting stairs, Fred basically shouted the secret password at the Fat Lady making her narrow her eyes at him. She swung open, not without muttering about how rude he was, and Fred jumped inside. Ten or so students were scattered around the common room, chatting amongst themselves. Hermione, Ron and Harry sat around the couch near the grand fireplace. They sent Fred a wave, which he frantically returned. The golden trio watched in curiosity as Fred darted up the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.

Hermione looked back to the group and asked,

“Wonder what that’s about- he seemed in a hurry.”

“Heard him and George got detention. They put stink-bombs in the Slytherin common room! Heard it stained some of the furniture maroon!” Ron chuckled at his brother’s antics then resumed his debate with Harry over their thoughts on the Quidditch World Cup happening every four years. Harry tried to explain the concept of the Olympics to Ron, but Ron was too focused on how amazing it would be for the World Cup to happen each year. Hermione went back to her studies, blocking out the mindless bickering of the boys.

Above the common room, Fred Weasley was scurrying to his girlfriend’s dorm room. He hoped Angelina and Alicia were out so he could be alone with her. Their time spent together had been oddly less than usual the last few weeks. Fred had no change of heart- actually, he found himself falling more in love with her every day, but their final year at Hogwarts was creeping up from the woods and he was working on a dream career behind the scenes with George that was eating up his time with her. He had shared this idea with her before- but it was just an idea then. Fred and George planned on putting their dreams to action once they finished up the next year. He wanted her to come- George did as well, but he didn’t want to mention it until it was a reality.

Reaching his destination Fred took a second to compose himself. A thin line of sweat was forming near his forehead. This was the first chance he had to take a breather since detention ended. Fixing his dark robes Fred knocked against the door, quiet enough not to startle her but loud enough to hear.

“Y/n… Y/n… love, are you awake? It’s Fred-“

Abruptly, the heavy wooden door cracked open and a weary looking girl poked her head out into the quietness.

“Darling, did I wake you up? I’m so sorry.” Fred stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a tight embrace. Y/n’s head fell against his chest out of instincts. His arms fastened around her waist as he invited himself in the room, slowly walking her back.

“Here, go back to bed, love. You look exhausted.” Fred led the sluggish girl to her familiar bed. Throwing back the covers, he readjusted her pillows so there would be room for him to fit as well. Fred then walked back to Y/n and took her hand softly. Kissing the back of her hand, Fred helped Y/n get into bed then slipped in beside her. His arms snaked around her body without thought. The naturalness of holding her in his arms made Fred feel confident in his dreams of starting a future with her. All the tension in his body collapsed when she leaned into his frame. Fred held her close and kissed the side of her cheek lovingly.

“I’m sorry about detention tonight but I promise I’ll take you out Saturday, alright? We can have a date at Hogsmeade and spend the night together, does that sound nice?”

The sleepy witch gave a tired mumble and nodded her head. She was cuddled under a stack of blankets, wearing Fred’s sweatshirt which made him smile. He’d usually crack a joke at this and tease her but, she was already asleep when he looked back to her. Fred couldn’t help but stare at her for a while. There was never a moment that went by where Fred didn’t think of Y/n as anything other than beautiful but in these moments, she looked ethereal.

Moonlight poured in from the open window and splashed across her s/c cheeks. Her hair was sprawled against the white pillowcase. Fred smiled at the sound of her light snores. Fred wouldn’t leave until he was sure she was deep asleep. It was their thing. She hated going to bed without him there.

“Okay, I love you, Y/n. Get some sleep, angel.” Fred whispered.

He pecked her forehead, then kissed her lips gently. Removing the covers, Fred tucked them back into Y/n so she could keep warm. He closed the open window then tip toed out of the room. Instead of rejoining his friends, Fred decided to head to his room. He felt too guilty for missing out on their plans to go have his own fun. Anyways he did have a Potions paper coming up and if he was going to spend the day with you Saturday, he surely wouldn’t be doing any homework.

So, the plan was confirmed the next morning, Friday. Y/n ran into Fred on her way to breakfast and they discussed where they’d meet and a time. They ate breakfast together, walked to class, then headed in different directions when six rolled around. Fred had a Quidditch match and she had a group project, so they didn’t cross paths for the rest of the night. Even though he refused to admit it, Fred absolutely hated when Y/n missed one of his games. His favorite thing to do was search for her in the stands during each game and it made him sad not to see her smiling face standing out in the crowd. Y/n entered the common room around midnight and went straight for her bed. Gryffindor had lost so there wasn’t a single housemate sitting in the common room. She could only imagine how upset Fred must be, she’d be hearing about it tomorrow. Y/n giggled to herself at the recollection of Fred’s angry rants about his teammates to you in private. She basically crawled to her bed, dreaming about the handsome, goofy, witty twin that had captured her heart.

Which would bring us to Saturday night. Fred and Y/n had made specific plans; they were to meet at The Three Broomsticks at seven then hangout for a while and spend the rest of their night sneaking around the castle with the help of The Marauder’s Map. Fred had practice at six so he was planning on meeting up with the girl at the pub. Y/n expected him to be running late- it wouldn’t be Fred if he didn’t show up a good twenty minutes late.

Only Fred never showed up at seven thirty, not at eight, and by the time nine neared, he was still nowhere in sight. The Three Broomsticks would stay open for a few more hours but the thought of sitting there alone for any longer, jumping at the sound of the door every time it opened, it made Y/n feel less than sane.

Throwing a handful of coins on the table, Y/n thanked her server then exited through the front doors. The walk back to the castle wasn’t long but being with Fred made it a lot more amusing. He’d pick her flowers, give her piggy back rides, play games, race, and hold her hand the whole walk back.

This time, Y/n walked alone hugging the material of her raincoat to her chest. A light drizzle had been pouring on and off for most of the day. Earlier, it was perfectly bearable- hardly noticeable. Although the weather had only worsened as the night grew darker. Hard rain drops crashed against Y/n coat, cascading down her covered arms and bouncing to the wet ground. Her black boots were soaked. She could feel the water rising to her socks, one of her biggest hatreds. Wet socks.

The hood of her jacket only helped so much before the pelting raindrops started to seep to her hair. Typically, Y/n loved the rain. If Fred was here, they’d be dancing right now. But he wasn’t, she had no clue where he was and that was exactly what Y/n was headed to find out.

By the time Y/n made it back to the castle and up to the Gryffindor common room, it was past ten.

Much as Y/n had expected, the common room was lively with energy and conversations. Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were all sitting in a circle with Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Seamus, and Dean. A dark bottle of Dragon Barrel brandy and Daisyroot Draught were being passed amongst them. Y/n watched as Fred leaned into his brother’s side, obviously tipsy and slurring his words while he practically shouted to their friends who were only sitting feet away.

His frame twitched with every small hiccup he let out. The whole group was smiling, they were happy. Y/n wondered to herself if Fred even noticed that she wasn’t there. She wondered if he liked it more when she wasn’t there, they were having fun and although the group was also her friends, no one was interested enough to invite her. Biting on the tender skin of her bottom lip, Y/n bundled her fist to her sides. The anger refused to simmer, only continued to boil. Her dripping clothes weren’t helpful to her sour mood.

It wasn’t the fault of her friends, no, but they were bound to get caught in the crossfires. Fred was the one who left her waiting for hours on end. Her chest was tight- livid yet sad all at once. It was an aggravating feel, unfamiliar. Y/n hated the suffocation entering her drying throat. More than anything she longed to handle situations like these in an aloof fashion. The last thing wanted was to wear her emotions on her sleeve, but she couldn’t help it. Her head screamed ‘just go to bed, ignore him’ but her heart wanted to scream at him and let him know just how bad he had hurt her. Her breathing quickened, each inhale received a choppy exhale.

For the first time, Y/n decided not to join her friends or to even say a word to Fred about how he stood her up. She was sick of it- completely exhausted and drained from his lack of care and presences in their relationship the last few weeks. If he wanted her as bad as he claimed, he’d find a way to show it. And leaving her sitting alone in a noisy pub while he partied and drank with their friends, showed her the exact opposite of his words.

Diverting her leer from the inebriated group and studied the rest of the room, hearing voices near the sitting area. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were all staring at Y/n in mixed judgement. Harry, Ron and Neville looked concerned by the appearance of Y/n. Hermione on the other hand, she was absolutely flabbergasted, Y/n could see the pity written on her face. You had mentioned having a date night with Fred in Hogsmeade to the four the night before. Harry had invited Y/n to hangout with them and visit Hagrid, but she politely declined and informed them about the special night Fred had planned for them.

Harry and Hermione stood up at the same time ready to comfort the teary-eyed girl. They motioned her over but just as she started towards them, Angelina Johnson noticed her friend who had been absent for most of the night. Setting the bottle of brandy down, Angelina wobbled up to her feet and smiled giddily,

“Y/n! Come- come drink with us! I was wondering where you- why… why’re you all wet?”

As the words fell from her mouth, a crowd of eyes planted on Y/n. Her fists clenched, bone white knuckles visible, at her sides. Angelina scurried over to her friend and wrapped her in a tender hug. If the scenario had been different, she’d gladly join in the fun but there wasn’t an ounce in her body that desired a drink.

Y/n’s eyes found their way to the boy she had been longing for all night. Her lips quivered, the anger and sadness reaching it’s overpour. He looked so handsome, so happy, but it meant nothing to her.

Pulling back, Angelina squinted in confusion at Y/n. The lack of embrace given back had thrown her off. The group had been awaiting her arrival, no one was quite sure where she’d gone off to. Angelina scanned Y/n’s reddening face, noticing the emotions bubbling under the surface.

Moving away, the dark-skinned girl turned to her friends. No one else seemed to notice the offset of Y/n’s attitude.

“Angel, where have you been? I missed you!” Fred’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Quickly standing up, he held his hand out to his girlfriend. Y/n shot a dangerous look to his outreach, then up to his face. Usually she’d find his toothy grin and childlike state loveable but for obvious reasons, it made her irate.

Stepping back, Y/n sternly scowled at Fred,

“Missed me? You’re the one who left me waiting all goddamn night, Fred Weasley.”

A part of Y/n felt guilty for forcing her friends to witness their unpleasant exchange. George was now to his feet standing behind Fred, just as lost as the group he had been sitting with. Despite the alcohol running in his veins, George could sense an argument budding by the second.

“Not like any of you really seemed to care where I was.” Y/n kicked herself for this cold statement.

Her friends weren’t at fault- not in the slightest. But everyone was at risk of becoming a victim to her fiery wrath. In actuality, it did hurt her a little that no one had gone searching for her. It had been hours! Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the reactions of the group. George took his arm off Alicia and nudged his twin.

“What- I don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout, love. I think you should have a drink and loosen up-“

Y/n couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t take it anymore. Scrunching her face, she used every bit of strength to force her salty tears to hide at bay. Although her emotions screamed to be heard and saw right through her façade. Sweeping her hand across her cheek, Y/n caught the stray tears that rolled down her rosy cheeks. Huffing all her emotions out at once, Y/n shook Fred away from her and hurried towards her room.

Fred stood appearing dumbfounded. He could only gawk in perplexity. Blame it on the alcohol, but Fred’s mind was drawing a blank when surveying her words. For most of the night, he was the one thinking she was leaving him waiting. No one else had a clue as to where she’d gone off to, so he assumed she was in the library or wanted some space.

“You’re an idiot, Fred.” Hermione’s sharp voice cut through the thick air. The happiness and drunken laughter was extinct. The girl’s shared an exchange, all confused as to what just happened. The glass bottles didn’t help clear their judgement. Dean and Seamus took small sips from the Daisyroot Draught. The tension was unbearable, it felt wrong for their friends to be a part of it.

George set a hand on Fred’s shoulder, pulling him back slightly. Leaning forward, George whispered to his twin,

“I reckon it’s best if we turn it in for the night.” Fred gave a tug of protest. His intoxicated fought against him though he knew he did something wrong and needed to find Y/n. In spite of his desire to chase after the girl, George couldn’t let him do that. It was obvious Fred had forgotten something and Y/n was more than upset. Sending his brother up to drunkenly apologize to his hurting girlfriend for a reason he can’t even recall, that was a recipe for disaster and would only cause a bigger mess.

“Fred, you’re going to bed. You’re too drunk to talk to Y/n right now, okay? We’re going up the boy’s stairs, not the girls, okay? You two can talk in the morning, maybe you’ll remember where you fucked up tonight by then.”

Suddenly, Fred stop moving and let out a low groan,

“Oh shit… merlin’s sake, I fucked up, George. Oh my god- Hogsmeade… shit! I told her we’d meet at Hogsmeade and I forgot-“Fred whipped around in his discombobulated state. Everything clicked at once. Fred had been so concentrated on Quidditch that once practice had wrapped up, his exhausted body dragged him back to the common room out of muscle memory. It was his typical routine; Quidditch practice, head back to his dorm, shower, change, eat, work on some possible products with George, then hangout with his friends. How could he be so neglectful?

George sent his brother a comforting look then grabbed him by the shoulders, helping aid him up the winding staircase. It came as a shock to him that Fred had forgotten about their date. All he spoke about was Y/n, it was a rare occurrence for the couple to

“So that’s where she’s been all night?” George pushed open the door to their room, looking to his twin sternly. Fred had most of his weight piled on George, trying his hardest to remain upright. Lee had decided to stay back, allowing the brothers a chance to talk.

George helped his frantic twin in the dark room, then gave him a light push towards his bed. Fred plopped down, burying his face in the fluffy pillow. Pulling off his jumper, George threw the large maroon comforter over Fred’s tall frame while he wailed,

“I’m a terrible boyfriend. I planned the bloody date too! I left her-“

“How ‘bout you get some rest? You can find her in the morning and apologize to her and… hope for the best. It’ll give you more time to think of a way to make it up to her. You’re just a rambling mess right now.” The alcohol was not wearing George down. He had been on an adrenaline high since his second shot. This was the first moment of the night where he had stepped back. His tiresome hands rubbed against his face as he made his way to his bed and collapsed on it.

Fred was still moaning on, the sound of his drunken voice making it harder for George to fight back the urge to sleep,

“She’s gonna dump my sorry ass-“

“Go to bed, Fred. It’ll be okay.”

George let out a sigh of exhaustion. The twins had been best friends with Y/n since they were just children, new to Hogwarts and unfamiliar with the power of magic. It pained him to see his brother hurt, but it also hurt to see Y/n upset. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Turning his head, George let out a breathy chuckle at the sight of his twin passed out cold. The worry that dripped from his voice was now gone as he eased into his dreamland.

George wanted to scold him, knock him upside the head for skipping out on Y/n again. He cared a lot about her, she was basically a sister, a triplet to him. If Fred was gonna win her back, it wasn’t going to be easy, George knew this. Y/n was stubborn, and the twins had witnessed this first hand for years, it was a trait they loved, when not directed towards either of them.

As George’s head hit the pillow, all he could do was pray to Godrick that the morning would bring good news.

Sunday morning arrived much faster than Y/n had hoped. A bright, loud, light interrupted her sleep as the gears in her head started to turn. Her mind was groggy, the events of last night were foggy. Warm sunlight broke through the glass stained windows. Y/n wiped her eyes and slowly sat up. Her mouth was dry, screaming for a drink of water.

For a minute, she felt calm- happy almost. The room was half empty; Angelina’s bed was bare and Alicia laid in a star-fish position, a snore sounding from her mouth. The image made Y/n laugh.

Standing up, Y/n’s hands flew above her head as she stretched. She cracked her back, a morning ritual for the girl. Just as she reached for the knob of her dresser, a wave of recollection nearly knocked her off her feet.

Fred had stood her up, of course, how could she forget? The irritated skin under her eyes and nose suddenly made sense. Leaning against the wooden cabinet, Y/n huffed. It was times like these she wished she could crawl into bed and stay there for eternity. Nothing would get better though if she didn’t at least try to fix it.

As quick as the thought came, it had evaporated once more. Why did she have to be the one to put forth the effort to fix things? There was no use in fixing their relationship if Fred wasn’t willing to try too. More than try, Y/n thought. It took a piece of her when she came back to the castle just to see him drinking with their friends, not thinking a thought of her. She needed to see that he cared. His words held no value to her anymore, not until he could prove he meant what he said.

Y/n went through her morning routine like a snail, wanting to drag out her time. Eventually, she was fully dressed and ready for the day. She liked to take advantage of the days her school robes weren’t required. The cooling weather led her to a fuzzy black sweater, and light washed jeans. Sliding her delicate wand into her back pocket, Y/n exited the room and took the stairs down to the common room.

Approaching the bottom of the steps, Y/n could hear familiar voices exchanging hush words. She stepped into the room and was surprised to see the lack of students. The only ones present were sat one the long leather couch on the left half of the massive room. All of their gazes fell on Y/n.

Fred, George, Ron, Angelina, Harry and Hermione were all relaxing- well all of them except Fred. He on the other hand was frantic- disheveled. His knee bounced in anticipation. The clock was sneaking

“Oh, uh, hey Y/n!” Ron Weasley moved his hand side to side, waving to Y/n. The temptation to admire the handsome boy at his side leaped into her heart. Using every ounce of strength, Y/n trained her eyes on Ron, not allowing a single peek at Fred.

“Hey, Y/n/n!” The voice of Angelina brought a perk to Y/n’s head.

“Hi.” She greeted the younger Weasley and her close friend back, then headed for the portrait. Before she could make it half the distance, the tall figure of her boyfriend appeared.

“Angel, how did you sleep?” Fred was by her side in an instant. He was desperately trying to read her expression, testing the waters to see her mood. He had hardly slept, he spent most of the night thinking about this exact moment, when he’d have the chance to apologize and make it up to the girl he loved. “Can we please talk? I’m really sorry for last night, honestly, I am so so sorry, darling.”

Y/n stared at him, or rather, through him. It was like she didn’t see the tall wizard in front of her.

“I’m gonna go study, I’ll meet you with you guys later.”

“Y/n, love-“ His warm hand took hold of her of her own, an action she’d typically love. The familiar grasp sent a burst of comfort in her stomach, but she ignored it.

Wiggling out of his grip, the girl shot him a look of displeasure then rushed off. Hermione chased after her, no one else brave enough to step in. Besides, Hermione was one of her closest friends. Watching the younger girl follow after her roommate, Angelina walked after them. Fred stomped like a toddler having a tantrum as the portrait swung open then closed. He knew he had to do something- anything to get her to talk to him again, and that was his plan.

For a Sunday evening, the school library was relatively empty. A majority of the students occupying the tables were studying away for their O.W.L.S. The exams weren’t for another two months but hardly anyone dared to procrastinate until the last week before opening their books. The stress of the exams was enormous, but the students still had other classes to keep in mind.

Y/n Y/n/l and George Weasley were sitting across from on another at a study table. Three hefty textbooks were open as the two discussed their Potions paper. Y/n had been stuck on hers and George had yet to start so they decided to head to the library together and get it done.

Fred was usually right by their side, his hand wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, but she neglected an invite for him. About an hour after their exchange in the common room, Y/n had apologized to each friend she had snapped on the night prior. They were understanding, clearly seeing where her frustrations had come for. They also felt bad as she was right, no one had even checked to see where she’d gone, and George especially felt terrible for not searching for his friend.

At least three hours had passed since the two Gryffindors started their study session. Y/n was sneaking up on her last two pages while George still had three left. They collaborated every few minutes, then returned to tranquil silence, scribbling away.

Y/n was in the middle of sharing her idea for the last section of her paper when George’s eyes brighten and he interrupted her,

“Fred, how nice of you to join us.”

Turning in her chair, Y/n found her boyfriend standing behind her with a nervous smile. She hated how perfect he looked, even in the poor lighting of the library. He still managed to make her breath hitch in the back of her throat.

“Hi, Y/n. You look beautiful as always.” Fred announced himself softly. George scoffed teasingly, muttering a ‘hello’ to himself to make up for his brother ignoring him. Freds words were genuine though didn’t make much of a difference. Y/n was still hurt and a compliment wasn’t going to mend that. She needed to feel it, to see him truly show that he cared- that she meant something to him. That she was deserving of his time. Sweet comments didn’t not add up to that feeling.

George closed his textbook, then glanced up at his twin,

“Should I leave?”

Before Fred could answer, Y/n slammed her hand on top of George’s Potions book. Wide eyed and frightened, the boy gaped in shock. Even Fred was taken aback by her unexpecting movement. Leering at her friend Y/n replied,

“No. I want you to stay, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

Fred’s heart dropped at her words. It was heartbreaking to have the girl of his dreams now shunning him- brushing him off with ease. It was driving him mad. All he wanted was for her to acknowledge him, give him a little hope that he can earn his way back in her heart. He loved her, every bit of him loved her.

All he wanted was to make it up to her for his mistakes the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about the look on her face when she saw him sitting with their friends. She was miles exceeded hurt- more devastated at his negligence than hurt alone.

Maybe it was the fear of meeting the reality that losing Y/n was a possibility, but Fred experienced a new sort of emotion when his girlfriend asked for his brother to stay. Yes, they’re friends, all three of them are. Fred had to remind himself of this like a record on repeat. He couldn’t fight the envy off though.

It made his heart twist as she stared at George. Never did he think he’d be jealous of his own twin, but Fred was livid. The seething stream of covetousness overtook his veins. Fred wanted to be the one you ran to for comfort, not his brother. His entire life he had shared everything with George, Y/n was far too meaningful to Fred for her to be shared.

Now it does take two for a turn of events like that to happen. Fred knew, clear as day, that George had no romantic feelings for Y/n and she had none for George. This was true, but for some reason, it didn’t help tame Fred’s envy.

He knew causing a jealous scene would do no good for anyone, so Fred realigned his train of thought and asked,

“Could I steal you from that conversation, please love? I really need to apologize to you.”

Fred allowed his hands to reveal themselves from their previous position hiding behind his back. When he moved them, a full bouquet of colorful flowers and small green plants of different shapes and sizes. The flowers were a display of fuchsia, pink, orange, red, and yellow. They were beautiful, so beautiful, Y/n thought to herself. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past her lips.

Fred had gotten her flowers their first-year dating but since the last month or so, she hadn’t received many of his heartwarming gifts. It wasn’t the monocle value of a present but the thought and attention to care that captured Y/n’s heart. Fred had always been the best at creating meaningful gifts on a tight budget. Whether it was flowers he stole from school grounds, or necklaces he made out of stones she found around the Great Lake. He’d make her perfume- proving rather excellent in the Potions department. He also asked Molly to teach him how to knit in order to make Y/n a sweater. This of course delighted Molly over the moon.

George bit on the skin of his knuckles to keep for laughing at his brother. He recognized the flowers, as did Y/n. Fred had picked them from the garden outside the castle- something that had earned him a detention before. George decided not to comment on his observation, Fred was sure to murder him in his sleep if he put his apology in any jeopardy.

Fred extended the bouquet to his flustered girlfriend. He felt a sense of accomplishment while watching her reaction. It was small to most, but for as stubborn as she was, it was big in his eyes. The girl reached forward, accepting the gift with a tiny smile rising to her lips, one she didn’t force down.

For the first time since the night before, Y/n fully saw Fred. She peered directly at him silently. George glanced between the two, stuck between a dual. Without speaking, Fred took some steps forward and pulled the chair next to Y/n out. He slipped into the seat, the couple still staring at each other. Y/n studied his demeanor, he didn’t push her anymore, but he wouldn’t leave her side. Not that she would tell him but, she was happy he joined in. She didn’t want him to leave, she had missed being around him. Tearing herself away, Y/n focused herself back on the other twin.

“As I was saying, George…”

Fred drowned out the words but accepted the fact that Y/n didn’t reject him from sitting down. She also didn’t set the flowers down for the rest of their study session. The remained clutched in her hands, resting in her lap the whole time.

Monday night came in the blink of an eye. Classes had resumed and the castle was bustling in stress. When the end of the year neared, the time spent sitting through lectures was an eternity, while the weekends flew by. Fred had always hated summer break, actually, that’s not entirely true. His dismissive of break budded around the same time his relationship with Y/n became official.

Their first two years, she would spend the holiday back home in London with her family. She loved her family but once she experienced her first holiday at the Burrow, she never wanted to miss another. Her family was a bit distant, not the warm and welcoming pure-bloods like the Weasley’s, but not as cold as the Malfoy’s. Y/n’s family had no issues with her spending breaks at the Burrow, as long as she had Molly and Arthur Weasley’s approval. Molly insisted each time that there was no need for her to even ask to stay. They accepted her with open arms, ecstatic to see Fred had found such a lovely girl.

The end of the school term was coming up and Fred needed to fix things with Y/n before that happened. She planned to spend the break at his family’s home and he feared she’d take her agreement back if things weren’t improved between them. Spending almost two days stuck in the anger of his love was two days too many. Fred was going to fix this and he planned the best idea he could think of, good thing he had their friends happily available to help.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, while she was resting up from her illness Harry, Ron, Lee and George were helping Fred create his masterplan. Hermione helped in her own way by remaining near Y/n’s dorm, sitting in as the lookout. It gave her an excuse to get her school work done so she didn’t protest.

Alicia and Angelina stayed in the room. Once Y/n started to feel better, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, the girl’s altered Hermione who passed the news along to Harry as the chain continued until it reached Fred. At the confirmation, his plan was set into action. Ron was sent to retrieve the girl after Alicia and Angelina convinced her to get some food from the dining hall.

She walked through the common room then down the moving staircase, when her redheaded friend popped up. Ron scared the girl, making her stumble back, her hand placed over her chest.

“Y/n! I’m so glad I ran into you! No one has seen you all day- Angelina said you were feeling ill this morning.” Ron rambled at a fast pace. Y/n, still surprised by his sudden arrival, took a deep inhale, nodding to the boy,

“Yeah, I saw Madam Pomfrey this morning when classes started. I just had a stomach bug and she said I’d have to wait it out but the medicine she gave me seems to be doing the trick.” Y/n gave Ron a kind smile. Ron was two years younger than her but they had always been great friends. Y/n would travel to the Burrow as a guest of the twins during the holiday breaks, so Ron and her had spent a lot of time hanging out together. It was sweet of him to ask how she was doing, but he didn’t seem that her health was the reason for their conversation.

“That’s good to hear. You wouldn’t happen to be heading anywhere, are you?”

“Just to get some food. I’m starving-“ Ron nodded eagerly, cutting his friend off in the process.

“That’s great! I mean, not great, just… well… uh, follow me please!” Scrambling like a mess, Ron clasped his hand over Y/n’s wrist and abruptly dragged her down the stone corridor. She couldn’t find the words to question him and allowed Ron to lead the way. Her curiosity was far too big to ignore his odd request.

Ron carried on for another five minutes then took a sharp turn, heading for the courtyard. Two figures ran off around the side of the castle in the darkness. Y/n swore she recognized the pair as George and Lee. What were they up to? Snapping her head to the younger boy, Y/n waited for him to fill her in on why he had dragged her halfway across the castle to the freezing courtyard.

“Okay! We’re here- I’m just gonna… head out. See ya, Y/n!” Ron rushed his farewell then ran off towards the direction George and Lee had escaped to. What in the world is going on? Left by herself without any explanation, Y/n threw her hand up in annoyance.

“What?”

Alone in the cold, Y/n wrapped the opening of her fuzzy cardigan against her body, attempting to keep warm. Although warmth entered her vein as a pair of arms snaked around her waist, snatching her backwards into a firm surface. She gasped, thrown off by her attacker and tried to turn in retaliation, but their grasp was far too firm. The familiarity of the hold made her body ease up. As much time as the spent together, she could recognize his touch anywhere. Fred.

His touch released a swarm of butterflies through the girl. She could feel the anger washing away as she leaned her body into his chest, having pined for his arms for two too many days than she was accustomed to.

The tall Gryffindor held her tightly. Moving forward, Fred pressed his lips against the shell of Y/n’s ear. The heat of his breath causing her to shudder as he whispered,

“I’m so happy you came, darling.”

Y/n smirked, looking up at him. The concurrent willfulness of her nature could only carry on for so long until her headstrong demeanor crumbled. A pang of chagrin still grumbled in her stomach but the sight in front of her certainly was a runner in her change of heart.

Soaking in her surroundings, Y/n realized they were just a few hundred feet outside Hargid’s hut. This explained the garden full of massive orange pumpkins. In the middle of the path was a small gazebo decorated in fairy lights and sunflowers. A small table set for two was tucked inside. Small teacup white candles line the path, creating a runway of sorts. Another candle, larger and purple, sat flickering in the breeze in the center of the neat table.

Y/n stood motionless absorbing the creation her boyfriend made- all for her. Speechlessness was not common for Y/n so Fred undoubtably began to second guess if his efforts were good enough. His fears were stomped in a matter of moments when Y/n harshly yanked at the material of his collar and placed a brisk, short kiss to his lips. Fred was startled, losing the opportunity to kiss her back but Y/n didn’t want him to. It gave her a sense of control- they still had issues they needed to work out, but she loved him nonetheless. Besides, avoiding and staying mad at Fred forever? Impossible. In two days, Y/n had to stop herself a million different times from approaching Fred and sharing a laugh with him, or kissing him, or holding his hand and giving him a hug. She didn’t want to fight off the urge anymore- and Fred couldn’t handle the distance spaced between them. Thus, being the motivation for his grand, heartfelt, date.

“I’ll assume that means you like it. I won’t take all the credit- it was my idea, but our friends are the main reason I was able to pull this off. I feel really bad and… I need to do something special for you- I don’t do that enough lately. I forget sometimes to remind you how important you are in my life and how much I love you.” Fred sheepishly smiled, nervously awaiting her reaction.

The small table was set, a new bundle of crimson red roses placed on her seat. To the side of her plate was a small box with a beautifully wrapped ribbon tied to the top. Fred had a special way of showing his love and adoration for his girlfriend, but even this was new to her. Never before had he gone so over the top to prove his feelings to her.

Y/n lifted her hand and intertwined it with Fred’s, smiling up at him,

“It’s gorgeous, Freddie.” The bashful smile made Fred’s heart melt on sight. He had prepared himself for the repetitive rejection she had been sending, so when she whispered those sweet words, his chest tightened, and his pace stopped.

Fred almost fainted in shock at the sound of her voice. He squeezed her light hand and drew it back, forcing her body into his own. Y/n couldn’t help the laugh that fell from her lips. She missed his playful ways. With the foreheads pressed against each other, Fred grinned,

“I’ve missed your voice, love.”

Although his words made her heart take flight, the reality of her hurt was still roaming. Y/n detached herself from his grasp and rested her hand on the black metal table. Her fingertips fumbled with the white cloth, it served as a distraction only for a short period of time. Fred sent her a sorrowful look. Her shift in moods was confusing to him, he only wanted to make things better.

Y/n sighed and ran her hand through her h/c locks. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply then asked,

“Why don’t you have time for me anymore, Fred?” The question of the night- or rather month. His date was beautiful, absolutely stunning. As riveting as it was, it couldn’t erase the hurt she had been experiencing.

Fred shook his head frantically, dismissing the accusation. He knew why she would think that way, he understood. It wasn’t true, though. Actions speak louder than words and Fred despised the fact that recently, his feelings for Y/n weren’t lining up with his actions. His words could only do so much. But he also knew soon, things would be different. Missing the Hogsmeade date was his fault, and he paid for it. Two days might seem minute to most, but when you spend essentially everyday attached to someone’s hip, two days of them purposely ignoring you and speaking to every soul expect you, it can feel like a lifetime. He realized a few things in this time.

Fred remembered how fun it was to act as if he was still trying to win her over. Gifts, no matter their cost, always brought a gleam to her face which never failed to make Fred grin. However, it was much more entertaining when she wasn’t upset with him and would throw the flirtatious comments right back at him. He was also reminded of how lucky he was to be with Y/n. While she ignored him, Fred found himself envious of every living being Y/n spoke to, as they were not him. When he started engulfing himself in his plans for the joke shop, his effort in his relationship had decreased and this was something he vowed to never let happen again.

“I’ll always have time for you, darling. And if I don’t, I’ll make some. I truly am sorry about this weekend- you don’t deserve that.”

“It just seems like you’re distracted, like you don’t care anymore.” Y/n batted her reddening eyes, finally throwing her worries to the air.

“No, no, Y/n, not at all. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, love. I’m a terrible excuse of a boyfriend, I never meant to create this mess. I love you so much.” Fred’s head bowed down. It tore him up to know the way his actions made her feel, the only girl he loved.

“I love you too, Freddie. I really do but I can’t feel alone in this relationship. I let our date Friday slide, even though I was annoyed, but Saturday night? I feel like it broke me. Just knowing you forgot about me-“ Y/n fought back the burning sensation in her eyes as the tears began to brim.

The anxiety blooming inside her was clear to Fred. Suppose that was the downside to dating your best friend, they can always tell when somethings wrong. Before a tear could hit the floor, he whisked her to the iron garden chair, then kneels before her, his hands holding her face as if it was a priceless, dainty piece of china.

“I didn’t forget about you, darling, that’s impossible to do. I’ve been… well I’ve been working on something with George for when we leave school next year. It’s real important to me and I wanted to share it with you but I was scared that it might not happen but… if I have your support and you with us, I know it’ll happen.”

“What’re you rambling on about, Fred?”

“Remember how I told you that George and I wanted to open a joke shop? Well, it’s happening… I think. We’re really close, we just gotta make it through next year then we’re free! We’ll have our own joke shop and get to sell our own products and start our future.”

A silence overtook the atmosphere. Y/n’s lips were stuck open in a small ‘o’ shape, eyes glued to the floor. Was he really going to leave her all alone next year? Would they have to break up? Surely, he wouldn’t want to be in a long-distance relationship.

She was snapped from her own mind when her skin registered the touch of Fred’s lips as they traced her knuckles, kissing each finger as he did. His eyes then peered up to meet her own. She could tell he was serious by the feeling of his stare. Then he continued, making Y/n perk up,

“But none of that can happen without you… Y/n I want you to come with me. Move in with George and I, start a future with me. We want you to be a part of the shop. I want you there. You’re the only girl I want, for the rest of my life.”

Her once open mouth clamped shut in a swift motion. Ever since she met the twins, Y/n wanted a future with Fred. Everyone saw it as a childhood crush, but she always knew it was more. She never stopped loving him- never could. Even when his pranks took a step too far over the line. They always found their way back to each other and would work through it. Fights such as the most recent were rare- but Fred’s admission filled in a lot of empty spaces that had left Y/n sleepless for days. Finally, the crushing weight was lifted from her chest as she choked out a shaky breath.

Leaping forward from the chair, Y/n threw her body into her boyfriend’s body and clamped him in a koloa like hold. Fred chuckled in amusement, falling onto the near ground at her jump.

“Why do you have to be so lovable? I hate it. I should be angry with you, but I just love you too much. Besides, I think you did enough suffering.” She giggled as she pinched his round cheeks in her hands. Fred poked his tongue out at her and grabbed at her sides. Y/n swatted his hands away, giving him a stern glare saying, ‘don’t push it’.

Slowly, she leaned down and brushed her lips against Fred’s, smirking down at him. It was a change in roles. In their more adult situations, Fred was typically the one on top with Y/n pinned below him, but that’s a story for another time.

A small, almost whimper, sound came from Fred. He hated being teased- that was his job. Dragging out the moment, Y/n tugged on the skin of his bottom lip with her teeth, earning a groan of approval from Fred. She grazed over his mouth one last time before dipping her head down to meet his and interlocking their lips, still straddling his waist. Fred’s hips pushed towards her core out of instinct. Not ready to give in quite yet, Y/n lifted her body and shifted forward, entrapping Fred even more so in the heated kiss.

They parted for seconds to sneak a bit of air, then continued their needed make out. It had been a while since they proved their love to each other in this way. For the last month, it had been small kisses here and there when the couple had a chance to see each other. Y/n needed his touch- she needed him. Fred longed to have under him, pleasuring her. He desperately wanted to sink his head between her legs and really show her just how much he loved her.

The coldness of his fingertips hit Y/n’s skin as his fingers dug into the sides of her waist. As much as she longed to keep the exchange going, the last thing either of them needed was a detention.

Y/n plucked herself away, a small pout lining Fred’s lips. His hands remained tied up in her own, lying them on his stomach. The weight of his question seeped in like molasses. Opportunities like this presented themselves once in a lifetime, there was no way Y/n was going to let it slip by.

Rolling off his lap, Y/n plopped down on the ground to the side of Fred. Their heads turned simultaneously towards each other, Fred winking to Y/n.

This is what she wanted. To see him care for her, show his love. His attention. It was the one thing she had been striving for but now that the cat, or rather joke shop, was out of the bag, Fred didn’t feel the need to hide anything from her anymore and keep his work to himself. He was over the moon with excitement to have her join George and himself. It was everything he could hope for.

Coyly averting her peer, Y/n asked,

“Do you really mean it, Fred? You really want me to come with you and George?”

Kindly, Fred swiped his thumb under her chin and raised her head up so their eyes were level.

“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else in the world then with me.” The serenity in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Y/n propped herself up to her elbows and brought Fred in a bone crushing hug. Heavy chuckles croaked from Fred as she smothered him lovingly. He managed to sneak in a tiny peck to her check and she hugged him. Placing her head on his shoulder, Y/n poked the side of Fred’s cheek, commenting,

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever, Fred, I love it!”

Throwing his arm around the elated girl, Fred just smirked.

“Duh, that’s kind the whole point of you moving in with me.” He replied in a matter-of-fact tone. The night was growing darker and the steady wind was escalating. In an hour, two if they were lucky, Filch would be surveying the grounds in search of students, mainly Fred and George, out past curfew. It was a sport to him, catching students breaking rules and getting to turn them in. It was part of his job, yes, but Y/n hated that he never took it easy on anything for the Gryffindors like he did the Slytherins. Fred looked at the scenery around them and remarked,

“Y’know, angel, as much as I’d love to spend the rest of the night laying with you in my arms, we can do that in my dorm room tonight… in an actual bed instead of dirt. I mean, we didn’t set up this whole thing for nothing! If I knew laying in the dirt would win you back, you should’ve told me!” His sarcastic words were received with a light slap.

“Smart ass.” Y/n rolled her eyes teasingly and started to sit up. Before she could get to her feet, a pair of hands planted themselves at her waist and lifted her. Fred had his moments, but he was always a gentleman to her. His teasing ways were comforting to Y/n, reminding her that they were good now, in comparison to the recent downfalls.

Fred helped Y/n to her seat, then jogged over to his own. He presented the girl with a cake he made for her. Hermione brought him to the kitchens and taught him how to make one. It took about three hours, he burnt the first, put too many eggs in the second, then forgot to add eggs to the third. Finally, on the fourth attempt, Fred created a passable cake. Hermione had no desire to spend any more time in the kitchen, so she quickly frosted it for him, not wanting him to ruin it this far in, then covered it and locked it in the fridge. Much to Y/n’s surprise, it was one of the best homemade cakes she’d ever had. Her teeth were practically chattering from the intense amount of sugar, but she had to keep in mind it was Fred who baked it.

After eating, Fred and Y/n took their sweet time strolling around the castle. Fred swung his hand back and forth, causing the same effect to Y/n’s. They laughed feverishly as Fred chased Y/n up the moving stairs as they raced to the common room. When they entered the room, they sprinted straight for Fred’s, still in a chase. Hermione, Ron, Harry, George, Angelina, and Lee all watched in amusement as the couple seemed to be reunited.

“Wonder if they’re back together. You guys think the date worked?”

Everyone shared glances at the obliviousness of Ron. There were times when social cues and context clues just didn’t exist to Ron. George scoffed at his little brother and shook his head. The rest of the group roared with laughter as Ron’s face scrunched in irritation.

“Not sure, Ron. Why don’t you go out to our room and ask them?” George smirked mischievously causing Ron to turn white as a ghost in realization. A faint ‘oh’, tumbled out of his lips and his eyes went wide.

Despite their assumption, up in the top room in the Gryffindor boy’s dormitory, Fred Weasley laid snoring in his large mattress, still in his school robes. Squished against his chest by his arms, Y/n was sound asleep, similarly dressed. The two didn’t care what they looked like or who came in, as long as they were together, that’s all that mattered.