#and i’ve been oddly sad the last few days

[infiniteiram]

sad because it’s been awhile since i’ve written my fic (which i’m so excited for) but i never feel like i have enough time to actually write

[deus-ex-mona]

l e t m e i n ! ! !

[euthymiya]

parasite — ft. ryomen sukuna

sukuna desires your presence late at night—oddly, it’s not for his pleasures. alternatively: true form sukuna and his begrudging attempt to cuddle

before you read: fem concubine reader (his favvv concubine) ; heian era true form sukuna ; references to previous sexual activities ; references to previous cannibalism (canon sukuna activities) ; reader is a bit cheeky ; more or less fluff (as fluffy as you can get with true form sukuna, at least)

Sukuna should eat you. You wouldn’t be the first concubine he’s devoured. Probably not the last, either. Instead, he waits impatiently for you to arrive at his chambers.

Finally, there’s a knock on his door.

“Enter,” he commands.

“You’ve summoned for me, my lord?” Comes your obedient reply as you slowly, cautiously step in. You study him for a fleeting moment, only relaxing slightly once you realize he doesn’t seem angered.

“I did. Come.”

That’s all he says…because, well, how is Sukuna meant to explain he’s summoned you here to lay beside him?

(It’s your fault, actually—this pathetic and abominable desire stems from your doing alone. You’re a tad bit bolder amongst the concubines, a bit more expressive in your desires than the others dare to be.

Yes, you let him have his way with you, and yes, you hardly complain when he’s less than gentle. Quite the opposite of complain, in fact. But afterwards…well, afterwards, you are needy.

Exceedingly so.

You dare to curl into his chest and tuck yourself against his side, leeching onto the warmth of his body like a parasite he should kill for the audacity. But…there is something about the way you speak in that hushed, gentle tone of yours. It’s always coupled by your grin.

That radiant, bright, horrible little grin.

The roses are coming nicely, my lord—though, I’ve pricked more than a few fingers tending to them.

Did you hear my lord? There’s been word that two of the servants have ended their romantic endeavors. How sad, no?

Today I’ve made a little friend, my lord. A small humming bird seems to have attached itself to my side no matter where I go in the gardens. I do hope it’ll visit me again tomorrow.

You tell him everything. Silly, stupid, ridiculous nonsense that you spout from your daringly talkative lips. And he…he listens. He listens well, in fact. He hears every overly detailed recount of your day and somehow, for some odd reason, he doesn’t seem to forget the useless information you insist of badgering him with.

And he’s grown accustomed. It’s your doing, he realizes—you’ve forced him into a routine he now finds too habitual to fall into.)

“Yes, my lord,” is all you say to his orders, walking closer to him where he lays sprawled on his bed. Without wasting a moment, you begin to undress yourself, letting your robes fall past your shoulders and begin to expose the beginnings of your chest.

He grunts in irritation before saying, “I did not summon you here for that.”

“O-oh,” you quickly pull your clothes to cover yourself, almost like that small bit of cleavage has left you more exposed than you’ve ever been. You don’t meet his eyes, staring at your feet in embarrassment as you mumble, “My sincerest apologies, my lord. I…I was under the assumption you had summoned me for your usual desires, so—”

“Enough,” he silences you. You quickly close your mouth. (Such a talkative one, you are. He’s always noticed this about you). “Come.”

This time, he gestures ever so slightly to the empty space beside him on his bed. So slightly, that you’d think it took every inch of his efforts to gather enough willpower and set aside his pride to invite you over.

You hesitantly walk over, seating yourself on the edge of the mattress beside him as you look over at him in utter confusion—and then, as you let out a sharp gasp, a strong hand grabs your wrist while the neighboring arm wraps around your waist and pulls you to lay draped across his chest the way you usually like to.

It feels odd, he notes, having you pressed against him with your clothes in the way. He’s used to your nude, bare figure. Perhaps he should have allowed you to disrobe, after all—but having you like this, regardless of being dressed or not, is already much better than before.

He’s almost infuriated by how much easier he can rest when you’re tucked against him.

“M-my lord?” Your voice quivers in shock, looking up at him in more confusion than fear.

He likes the fact that there isn’t as much fear as he expected. Odd, he thinks to himself faintly, Sukuna loves the feeling of being feared.

He decides not to dwell too much on it for the sake of his own peace for now as he grunts, “Sleep. If you don’t wish to be eaten.”

Silently, you relax against his body, molding into him the way you do in that post coital way you’ve gotten him accustomed to. Such a pointless, meaningless gesture that you always seem hell bent on seeking out—somehow, in some way, now you’ve got him doing the same.

He really should eat you.

“You know,” you murmur, giggling quietly, “It’s a bit funny.”

“What is?” He asks dangerously. Still, you don’t fear him.

He’s starting to question a bit whether you’re plain stupid or smarter than you let on. Do you lack fear because you’re ignorant to his evils? Or are you smart enough to realize something keeps him from harming you?

Even he’s unsure of the answer.

“I was just thinking about how nice it is to sleep surrounded by your warmth when the servant informed that you had sent for me,” you hum, “It makes for easy rest, you see. It’s almost as though you’ve read my mind.

He’s silent. And then, “You talk a lot,” comes his gruff reply.

“Sorry,” you whisper, closing your eyes. “I shall be quiet if that is what you wish—”

“I did not say to stop,” he responds, slightly agitated. (Why, he has to question, is he so agitated by the prospect of your silence? Surely…surely he can’t enjoy your incessant blabbering.)

“Oh,” you perk up. “I see.”

Instantly, that radiant, bright smile stretches across your features again. You don’t belong beside such a dark, evil spirit such as himself—but, he thinks, you will never get away with escaping him. Ever.

Not that you’ve ever given even an inkling of suspicion that you’d like to, but resolutely, he decides you will never be free of him.

“My lord?” You whisper, breaking him of his thoughts.

“What.”

His grunt is more of a command than a question. You seem rather fond all the same.

“Is there something on your mind? You seem…deep in thought, you know.” Gently, boldly, you reach over, thumb delicately smoothing over the crinkles between his furrowed brows.

He glances down at you for a moment through the corners of his eyes. The slight mischief in your pupils answers his earlier question—you’re smart. Infinitely so.

You’ve long come to the conclusion that Sukuna can never muster up the desire to see you in harms way. Especially not by his hand.

It slightly eases him to know you are aware, but it puts him in a deeply sour mood just as much.

“Sleep,” he grumbles, tugging you closer with a tightening of his arm around your waist, “You talk too much, woman.”

He just needs a little cuddle to go sleep 🥹 <- me babyfying the worst man ever (but he’s MY worst man ever)

[stillnotyourmusebitch]

Am I enough - Bowser x GN!Reader fic

This fic has been one I've been working on for ages but I finally felt it was time to post it. Because deep down writing this has really helped me

Warnings : Heavy angst, talks of burnout, psychotic meltdown. Happy ending.

It’s true what people say about giving your all but it just not being enough. I knew being among that of Bowser’s castle staff would be a very difficult and demanding job. That was partly the reason I took it in the first place.

As my life in the real world just wasn’t right for me. So, you can imagine when I discovered an oddly large green pipe one day hidden away in an abandoned alleyway I cut through that night to prolong getting back home. I chuckled to myself at the thought of going through it and wondered what it would be like if I found a way into one of the many Super Mario worlds. My curiosity got the better of me. I got what I wished for and more so.

I’ve been living in the Darklands for a few years now. After I was found near the castle of King Bowser. I chose to work for him. Rising steadily up the ranks to a place where I was the caregiver role to the children of the king. This meant taking each day as it came because no two were the same. I was a platform for their pranks until they saw I wasn’t going to be scared away by them. Soon after that, the wee koopalings really grew to like me. They came to me with their problems. When they wanted an outside look at projects they were working on and even let me in on the newest revenge prank in the works. We grew into an odd sort of family dynamic. I would even at a push say that Bowser was more a close friend than my king.

I was known for my kind smile and caring nature to all who needed help. But lately, I felt the wild spark that fanned my bubbly personality had dimmed to a low flutter that threatened to extinguish leaving a husk of smoke behind to fill and suffocate my soul. I tried that much harder to act like all was well but when the big man himself kept trying to gently approach the subject of my recent spout of sadness. I found that the phrase “I’m fine really I am.” And a soft smile that had become the lifeline I clung dearly to was just enough to brush away any concern he had or so I thought.

----

I had barely managed to get through the day with my mask of normality not slipping and shattering to the ground But oh how it fell freely as soon as I shut the door to my quarters. My body sank in on itself with the weight of utter exhaustion finally being allowed to take over once more. Jr had noticed I had zoned out for the 5th time today when we were painting this afternoon. I told him that it was fine. I’m just a little bit tired. He looked at me for a second more before shrugging and going back to his canvas.

I know that I really need to sleep but right now I know if I went to bed I would just not want to wake up for the next day and the day after that and so on. I can’t worry my king or the koopalings. I think that is why I find my way to my ensuite bathroom in the darkness of my room. I didn’t want to put any lights on but when I got to the large tub and start to fill it. I set about lighting candles but only in the furthest corners of the room. It was better than nothing. It was just bright enough to see a silhouette of the bath at the center of the room. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness now that I just stood and stared at the water slowly rising up higher and higher. I normally would get undressed at this point. But what was the point.

I let the water rise higher transfixed by the sound of running water. My limbs moving on autopilot. I just climbed in completely clothed, shoes and all, leaned back, and finally closed my eyes.

I wanted to slip under the water and just drift away. People in my old life didn’t care but in the one I made here, I was wanted. Dare I say loved?

‘Am I enough?’

Thoughts swam frantically around in my mind. Each lasting a split second but long enough to make itself known. I don’t remember crying but it felt good to let it all go. The bath water was spilling over the sides now. I hadn’t turned the taps off. But it was okay. I let it run on. Flow over and pool beneath the tub. I let out the most guttural scream. Expelling all the negativity out of me. I just needed it gone.

“(Y/N) CAN YOU HEAR ME.” His booming voice split the air. I heard his heavy footsteps thud closer to the bathroom. The door broke into splintered pieces on the wet ground. “(Y/n)!” Bowser runs to my side. His large, clawed fingers turned the taps off, partially breaking one in the frantic movements. He scooped my sodden body out of the bath and cradled me close to his warm skin.

“Please talk to me.” He scanned me body to see if I was hurt.

I could see him talking but all I could hear was a high tinny white noise. I couldn’t get my limbs to obey me. I just hung there limply in his arms.

“I got you. I got you now.” He clings to me like I might fade from his grip into nothingness.

“B-bowser.” My tongue feels heavy in my mouth as I try to speak again.

“I’m here. I’m right here.” He sounds so small. Not like the fierce king everyone else gets to see. I’m crying again at the fragility that I’ve forced upon him.

“I-I’m so sorry sir.”

“No don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. When Jr came to me today telling me he was worried about you. I should have stopped everything and gotten here sooner.”

Oh no. I scared Jr why didn’t I hide this better. Why didn’t I do something sooner?

“I’m frightened.” I choke out another sob.

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not.” I hit his chest. “This is my fault. I let it get this bad. I kept pushing people away.” I keep thumping my fists against his chest and he just lets me. I’m begging him to just do something. Stop me. Just do something.

“I’m so tired. So damn tired.” I hit his chest once more before slumping against him again. He pulls me close. I can hear his heartbeat. It’s frantic, it’s worried. I nuzzle closer maybe if I get close enough it will calm down again. Even though I have clearly gone through a meltdown. I want to help him.

“I know you are. It’s been blatantly obvious that you were burning out before our eyes but you are so strong and caring you kept putting others before yourself. I need you to remember that you are enough. That you matter and you deserve to rest. The children will be fine for a few days if you take that time to rest up. Please let someone look after you for a little while. Please let me help you.”

I reach up and cup the side of his muzzle. His hand rests on top of mine like we are sealing a bargain. I smile weakly, to which he returns. He stands up, still holding onto me. As he walks us both back to my large bed. I’m starting to drift off to sleep but I needed to stay awake just enough to change into dry clothes that Bowser helps me into. Before lifting the covers and tucking me in. He looks down at me all curled up and slowly falling asleep. He moves off the bed but I grasp at his hand.

“Stay.” My voice is so small but he hears me. When the bed dips behind me I feel him pull me closer to his chest again. I finally let exhaustion take me but not before I felt him kiss the top of my head. A real smile tugs at my lips.

Maybe I am enough.

--------

This is my first fic in months and Bowser has been a real comfort character for me recently. So I hope people like this. Even if it was more of a personal idea.

[togrowoldinv]

Ghost of You

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

When Wanda leaves for the battle over the accords, she doesn’t come back home. Would she ever return?

Note: This takes place from Civil War to Infinity War. It’s an angsty one. Enjoy!

Please also note that I’ve switched to having a library blog instead of doing tag lists. Please follow @togrowoldinvlibrary for updates!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Wanda Maximoff is the reason that your world goes round. She’s the reason your feet dance to the beat of an imperceptible drum.

When you met her, it took you by surprise how quickly you fell in love with her. You weren’t a part of her hero world, but rather you had a normal job and a normal life.

But when you were with Wanda, her life made perfect sense. She felt so normal, so able to exist and take up space.

You knew that things had gotten difficult between the Avengers. Wanda told you about the accords and how she felt like they were never going to be a team again.

She was terribly upset about it. Her newfound family was dissipating in the blink of an eye.

Before she left your house for the fight, she held you close and kissed your forehead.

“When will you be back?” You asked her. Your hand was tangled in her hair.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her voice was quiet, truly unsure.

You sighed and took her hand in yours, feeling the coolness of the metal against you. Bringing her hand to your lips, you kissed the back of it gently.

“I love you,” you told her. She breathed deeper.

Wanda then let go of your hand and carefully took one of her rings off. Kissing your hand, she took it and placed the ring on your finger. It felt like a promise.

“To keep a piece of me with you while I’m gone,” she explained.

“I’ll treasure it,” you told her. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Wanda loved your sadness away. For some reason, it felt like the last time it would happen.

“I’ll love you forever,” Wanda said once she was by the door.

“I love you, Wanda. Everything will be just fine,” you replied.

The goodbyes felt rushed with just one more kiss. Wanda had to go help half of her friends and fight the other half. It didn’t make any sense to her.

You’re not really sure what happened after that. You heard on the news that a few of the Avengers were on the run, but you didn’t know the fate of the others. You didn’t know where Wanda was and there was no way to find out.

You learned that it was top secret information. The remaining free Avengers didn’t know about your relationship with Wanda. The only person who knew was Natasha, and she was on the run.

It has been two years of no contact at all from Wanda. You tried to move on, but you couldn’t forget her. You couldn’t forget all the promises you made together. You couldn’t stop listening to her favorite song over and over again.

The ring she placed on your finger is your reminder of her. You hold it close to your heart.

Wanda was alive, you told yourself that she had to be. Surely, someone would’ve reached out to you if not. Unless everyone was gone.

That thinking became oddly relevant on a random weekday. The sun was shining, and the world was ending. You didn’t really know what was happening, but people around you seemed to just disappear into thin air.

You had no idea why you didn’t join them. It felt like watching a movie scene unfold in front of you. You ran home and locked all of your doors.

It’s been two days since what the news is referring to as a catastrophic loss of humankind. You’re still confused and terrified, not having slept in days.

Suddenly, there’s a knock on your door. You look out the peephole to see a blonde woman. She doesn’t look immediately familiar, but when you look closer you realize who it is.

“Natasha?” You open the door with the word.

“Hey y/n,” she says. Her voice is quiet, distant. She looks like she’s been through hell. Her suit is ripped and dirty and her eyes are rimmed red from emotion.

“What’s happening? The news isn’t saying anything, but-“

“We lost,” Natasha interrupts you. She walks into your house and you shut the door. Nat fiddles with her hands, something you never see her do.

“You lost? What does that mean?” You ask her. You walk towards her. You notice her green eyes are filling with tears.

“We lost to Thanos and he snapped away half of the population,” Natasha says.

Your head feels like it could explode. What do her words even mean?

“Where’s Wanda?” You ask her. She doesn’t answer. “Where’s Wanda?” You ask louder this time.

Natasha looks down at the floor. She’s never seemed smaller. The words come out in a whisper, “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?”

“She disappeared with the others,” Nat answers.

“No, she didn’t,” your words come out quietly. And then you get angry. “No! No, she didn’t!”

You’re pacing back and forth and Natasha watches for a moment before she steps closer to you.

“Y/n, it’s alright. We’ll figure out what happened and do what we can,” Natasha says. She’s trying to keep her voice calm.

“How did this happen?” You don’t really ask her. It’s more so rhetorical.

Natasha’s hand reaches for your shoulder to stop your pacing. You flinch. You haven’t been touched in years.

“Natasha, please you have to save her. You have to, please,” you beg her. Both of you are crying at this point. “Please, I can’t live without her!”

Natasha finally pulls you into her arms. You grasp her shirt front and cry into her chest. She cries silently while holding you.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says over and over again. You cry into her arms for what feels like hours. She doesn’t move from her spot, being the steady rock you need.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re upset too,” you say once you finally stop crying for the moment.

“I am, yeah. We lost a lot of people,” Natasha says.

The two of you sit down on your couch and she tells you of the state of the team. She doesn’t know about the ones in space, she has to assume they’re gone. Nat tells you of her family, of her sister, and you hold her as she cries.

When Nat leaves, you sit at the dinner table alone. You turn on Wanda’s favorite song. By the end of the song, the ring on your finger feels like it’s burning.

You slip it off and spin it on the tabletop. It comes to a stop as the song comes to and end.

And the music fades just like Wanda did.

Will your feet ever dance again?

[sicherheitzuerst]

Rammstein in the Rain ☔️ Brussels Night 3 / End of Tour.

I found out my coat wasn’t waterproof anymore on the walk from the tram stop to the entrance. Aces.

Bagged myself the Must have end of tour merch. The €5 rammstein bin bag poncho. Reason 476 I love this band. They’re never one to miss out on a little bit of corporate opportunism and banged a rammstein sticker on the poncho packaging. Made a mint too by the looks of it from how many people wore one.

Feuer Zone was oddly empty. I ended up pretty much where I’ve been the last 2 nights (creature of habit, hi) but 2nd row. It didn’t fill up all that much around me either. It felt quite intimate in a way, that there was just me and the few people In my periphery being performed for.

To say it rained, it rained a lot. My trainers had breached by Links and I was wet through to my underwear by the end. Most of the concert I watched through the blurry blotches of rain on my glasses as everything was too wet to try and wipe off. But I laughed, because it was so utterly ridiculous how much it was pouring down. My first night of this tour was Berlin’s 36 degree heatwave and my last is 10 degree Brussels where I could see my own breath as I sang along and the steam rising from Till as he sang and somehow still managed to sweat under the lights. His mohawk was flat before the middle of Bestrafe, even Richards usually spiked look ended up framing his face. I said in Berlin, Richard looked like he was living his best rock star life. Last night There was times his expression (and mine tbf) was that of someone definitely questioning their life choices which led them to standing out in the piss down rain for 3 hours.

Anyway, less of the weather chat.

Nothing too crazy happened, there was no mic malfunctions which given the weather was more of a miracle and there was less group wide drum stick liberation this time, Schneider was probably down to his last handful.

I’ve already shared Till joining in the stick man dance spinning his little torches. I half anticipated him coming out in an actual light suit but this was somehow better. I know whenever I’m having a bad day I’ll watch that clip back.

There was more inflatable shit brought back. Sharks, a globe, Paul had a flamingo. Till refused him landing originally with it until Paul had done some convincing. The fee seemed to be a little smooch for Till from both the blow up bird and Paul himself. Richards Intervention the previous night seemed to work as he only brought back a body board and a note. I want an end of tour photo of the band and all of the stuff they’ve collected on their boating adventures please and thank you.

Till wore a beer can helmet for mein teil. I’ve read that one can said ‘roofies’ the other ‘KO drops’ but I was too far away to confirm. Probably did though.

He stole Jens’ little go pro on a stick and caused some mischief. He didn’t stick it down his pants however which was very unlike Till.

Of the 3 Belgian shows this one felt the least atmospheric crowd energy wise which surprised me given it was the last night but I guess the weather really didn’t help.

No “see you in….” Announcement at the end which I am a little sad about but I didn’t expect anything for 2024 anyway. Wait and see. I don’t think it will be long before we know their future plans.

I’m off to the airport on 3 hours sleep, back to reality rather than my Rammstein summer. What a ride.

❤️‍🔥

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork Heart pt37

Part 36 here

———

Kaidan: *sets a number of drinks on the table for the group as they settle in for the night at the bee & barb* from what we found out the only way into the ratway is through a door near the docks.

Nerevar: alright, we’ll head in there tomorrow. Wyrm and Voryn will stay here with-

Wyrm: I’m going. *reaches to the tray grabbing the smallest cup of wine*

Nerevar: No you’re not Wyrm. Not after-

Wyrm: I wasn’t asking ata.

Everyone: *awkward tense silence*

Wyrm: *sighs and sips the wine, grimacing at the taste but finishes it* if all of you keep protecting me I won’t stand a chance against alduin… Im the one his death falls on… not all of you. But you’re all the ones getting hurt trying to keep me safe… I want to help, I want to find answers… *sets the cup down sliding out of his chair* and im tired of people trying to stop me from finding them. *walks off*

Nerevar: *realising just how much he and voryn had been coddling him rather than teaching him* I- W-Wyrm where are you going?

Wyrm: I need to pee. *walks out of the inn and to the outhouse*

Kaidan: his moods deteriorated as the day went on… I’ve never seen him drink before…

Inigo: he’s been lost in his thoughts since we entered the marketplace today… maybe last night is still bothering him?…

Caryalind: come to think of it… Kaidan… you mentioned he seems to handle traumatic events, uncomfortably well. Why is this effecting him just now?

Kaidan: I don’t think he actually handled any of it… I think he just let it built up.

Taliesin: … *gets up* I’ll go talk to him.

Nerevar: *watches him go and looks at the cup* …Have I been holding on too tight?…

*meanwhile*

Wyrm: *sighs fixing his robes after doing his business, his mind wandering back through his memories, recalling the pain he’d suffered and feeling oddly numb as he recalls it, and all the instances were they ultimately lead to him needing to be saved* if it’s so important I stay alive… why did you make me so helpless?… *turns and stares at himself in the cracked mirror* why won’t you tell me?… I tried to come to you myself. I came to the dream sleeve myself to see you, and you pushed me away… why are you always pushing me away? Where are you trying to guide me? If you want so desperately to be understood then why won’t you let me in on the purpose of my very existence?

*silence*

Wyrm: … *places his hand on the glass feeling no response from his reflection, sotha sils presence in his mind and soul, silent* I don’t even have a say in my own fate… do I?… you just wanted me to think I did… *sighs* am I truely just… doomed then to your desires?… just another thing you made to fulfil a purpose?…

*silence*

Wyrm: …Why am I not allowed to just be happy?… you made me to always be happy right?… to be the opposite of you?… so why?… why do you keep… making me sad?…

*silence*

Wyrm: …I’ll behave… please don’t hurt them… don’t hurt voryn, don’t hurt neht, don’t hurt my friends please don’t-… dont… hurt Taliesin… don’t hurt my heart… I won’t cause you anymore trouble… *walks out of the bathroom and immediately freezes as he bumps into a tall red head in black leather armour* … *sighs*

*a few minutes later*

Delvin: Brynjolf I’m telling you take the lad back now or you’re in for it for real this time!

Brynjolf: *carrying Wyrm over his shoulder with ease* What’s up your ass today delvin? He owes us a debt by not giving us his eye. Besides, did you see the lot he was travelling with? I think we can get a lot more out of them in exchange for him*

Wyrm: An ass whooping is all you’re getting out of them…

Brynjolf: *gives him a gentle slap on the thighs* what was that?

Delvin: the truth Brynjolf, I’m telling you’re going to regret this you don’t know who he is!

Brynjolf: worth a lot of money is what he is. *sits Wyrm on a chair in the flagon*

Wyrm: y-you’re going to be in big trouble if you don’t let me go right now!

Brynjolf: and a smart mouth too it seems. *leans in* go on precious, tell me how much trouble I’m in-

Wyrm: *grits his teeth and grips the chair, fed up with being helpless* FUS-

Brynjolf: What the-

“RO DAH!!!!”

Taliesin: *kicks open the door to the flagon with his dagger drawn in time to hear his beloveds thuum and witness a huge splash hit the ceiling of the open space* Wyrm?!

Nerevar: *runs in with his lance poised for bloodshed* WHERE IS- *pauses watching a red haired nord surface from the water gasping for air as he flails in shock*

Delvin: *walks to the broken railing with Wyrm by his side as he looks over the waters edge* I tried to warn you. *looks up to see the group* oh! You’re definitely the lot Enthir told me about.

Wyrm: my friends! Ata! Tali!!!

Nerevar: WYRM! *runs around the waters edge and up into the bar with the others* are you hurt are you okay?

Wyrm: *nods and hurries to his arms* I’m okay- Mr Mallory made sure of it.

Delvin: I’m so sorry about my associates behaviour. I tried informing him who you lot were but he wasn’t having it.

Kaidan: *looking past him to the waters edge, and the veteran high elf pacing it like a tiger* oh… oh he’s having it alright… the minute he gets out of the water.

Wyrm: *looks over and immediately blushes watching Taliesin twirl his dagger as his eyes remain locked on Brynjolf as the nord tries to get out of the water and avoid death* o-oh.

Brynjolf: *running out of stamina as he treads water trying to find a way past him* f-fuck! *pushes off the wall as Taliesin reaches to grab him*

Taliesin: *scowls* keep swimming. I’ve got all day.

Brynjolf: … *just sinks under the water*

Kaidan: is he hiding?

Delvin: that or attempting to drown himself.

???: WHAT IN THE GAPING ASSHOLE OF OBLIVION IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!

Wyrm: *turns and immediately hides behind nerevar seeing another dark armoured figure step into the flagon*

Delvin: Sorry boss, Brynjolf causing trouble with Enthirs son and his companions. Little fella has quite a set of pipes on him. Launched him into the drink with one breath. *looks at Wyrm then at the group* This is Mercer Frey, leader of the thieves guild, an old associate of your dad as well.

Mercer: Enthir huh?… *looks at the group quietly before locking eyes with nerevar and feeling a shiver run down his spine* which one of you is it then? Who sent my second in charge into the- *looks over to the waters edge hearing splashing and panicked screaming as Taliesin suddenly rips Brynjolf from the water threatening to kill him* is it him?

Taliesin: ILL GUT YOU ALIVE FOR TOUCHING HIM!

Brynjolf: *still gasping for air after holding it for so long* F-fu-uck! Help!

Wyrm: *ignoring the chaos as he slowly peers out from behind nerevar* n-no it’s me.

Mercer: *looks back at the group hearing the voice and expecting there to be someone at least bosmer height standing there, only to look down further to see him* Oh- talk about pocket sized. And here I was thinking niruin and etienne were short-

Wyrm: Etiennes alive?? He made it back safe?

Mercer: Huh. So you’re the short dunmer who saved him… looks like the guild owes you a debt then. I’ll see if I can come up with a way to compensate you then just- can you call your friend off now? *looks over again to see Taliesin holding Brynjolf down as he tries to stab him*

Brynjolf: IM SORRY! CALL HIM OFF PLEASE!!!!

Wyrm: oh- um, tali- *hiccups and wobbles a little*

Kaidan: oop. There’s the wine.

*a few hours later*

Wyrm: *sitting on his bed in the bee & barb, pouting as Caryalind braids his hair* I’m-im not drunk! I can still help! *hiccups and falls back into him as Taliesin walks over with his night shirt*

Taliesin: your highness can you hold my drunk little silk moths arm up please?

Caryalind: *nods doing as asked* this drunk after one glass of wine?

Lucien: *getting ready for bed too* and I thought I was a lightweight. Do you think he’ll get a hangover from this?

Taliesin: *pulls the shirt over Wyrm and pulls his hair through the neck hole as he adjusts it* I hope not, he’s been through enough pain already- I- Wyrm sit down. *grabs him as he tries to get up again*

Wyrm: *whines kicking his legs* Taliii! You’re being mean!! I wanna help find Esbern! *slips out of his arms and runs to the door hurrying out* …

Delvin: *offered to guard them as an apology from the guild, suddenly walks in holding Wyrm under his arm* caught him. Surprisingly hard to keep ahold of him.

Taliesin: *sighs* you have no idea. *takes the small dunmer from him* thank you again for keeping watch…

Delvin: From everything you told me, it’s the least I can do. Especially since he’s enthirs boy… *looks at wyrm, then Caryalind, then voryn as the poorly chimer rests* Lot of valuable people in this room, and a lot of people in this city alone who’d benefit from doing them harm… You have my word I’ll keep you safe from them.

Taliesin: thank- WYRM!!

Wyrm: *slipped out of his shirt and making a break for it again*

*1 hour later*

Wyrm: *still tipsy but no longer intent on streaking down to the ratway again, now trying to get comfortable against Taliesin as the alcohol keeps him wide awake* … *shifts a little in the high elfs arms earning a soft moan in response, his lover fast asleep and clearly enjoying being in a real bed after days on the road*

???: the boss find anyone for the goldenglow job yet?

Delvin: Goldenglow? Nah. Even lovely Vex barely made it out of there alive.

Wyrm: huh?… *shifts to get up only for Taliesin to hug him closer* …aw biscuits…

???: I could do it-

Delvin: absolutely not sapphire. You’re great with a blade but there’s hundreds of mercs crawling that place. If you get caught who knows what they’ll… they’ll do to you… I don’t want you to go through that again.

Sapphire: *sighs* I know… but who else is willing to try it then? All you have to do is burn the bee hives right?

Delvin: and get the documents out of the safe that Maven wants. Vex tried going in through the sewer route but got caught on her way in… barely made it out alive.

Wyrm: … *looks back at Taliesin then down at the dwarven spider in his bag* pssst. Mr wrench.

Mr wrench: *activates and sprawls out his legs* ???

Wyrm: *slides out of taliesins arms putting a pillow there before pulling on his robes and boots* I’m done making everyone protect me. *picks him up and walks to the window, peering out of it nervously before climbing out onto the roof* We’ll be back before they wake up.

Mr wrench: *suddenly pops his legs up making them spin around rapidly as another two poke down for handles*

Wyrm: *grabs on as the spider takes flight, the magicka within the spinning blades strong enough to carry him off of the roof, and out of the city to a little bee farm in the middle of the lake* let’s go.

*meanwhile down in the ratway*

Nerevar: *sheaths his sword kicking the severed head of a thalmor agent out of the way as he walks to a heavy iron door* Esbern!!! By order of the blades I demand you open this door or I’ll break it down myself!!!

Esbern: *from the other side of the door* what? Who on nirn are you?! Go away!

Nerevar: *eye twitching as he pulls his lance from his back* Boethia. Guide me.

[iiryebreadii]

more totk thoughts! rip if this is getting annoying I’m sorry homies there’s just SO MUCH

There’s literally so much to do?? I’m constantly wanting to go in like. eight directions at once. Underground exploring, the sky islands, getting the towers, finding a specific geoglyph cause I want to find them in order, cave diving, checking out old favorite spots from botw, actual main story missions, side quests, THERES SO MUCH

I went to the great plateau to see what all was different, and there’s a quest there I haven’t started yet, but the MAIN POINT I have is that seeing the shrine of resurrection cave was oddly sad? That place gave me LIFE and now it’s just overgrown moss :( although the hot spring was a nice touch. It still heals, even when it’s gone :) also the yiga hiding there was hilarious. He was like “prepare for the fight of your life!!!” and then I beat him in like. four hits. iconic

OH also. I’ve been to a couple stables and I’m realizing that the Zelda Apparition I’ve been seeing might not be zelda. Everyone I talk to is like “weeellll I mean it looked like the princess but she didn’t feel like the princess” you know. So WHO is out there impersonating my girl. identity theft is not a joke

^^^this goes double for the blood moon cutscene. she doesn’t even wish me well or say to be careful :’(

I went to kakariko and!! Koko is so grown up!! Cottla is still small but look at my lil cooking baby!!! Making garlands for people!! I’m sad they don’t remember you in this game :( Dorian remembers me. koko I gave you so many ingredients. cottla we played tag so much. my heart is broken

Wait ok new headcanon. Link has the most forgettable face in Hyrule. OR because he’s always wearing different outfits no one can recognize him. remember botw Robbie looking him dead in the eye and being like “how will I know you’re him without seeing the scars. look at you, you could be anyone.”

In my first liveblog post I mentioned meeting the rito Penn and thinking “wow people are probably gonna be weirdly thirsty about this guy” but NOW I’ve met Tauro and I know people are gonna be thirsty over him. like I’m very ace but I think the allos are really winning with this game, good for you guys

Also, trying to use Ultrahand when you have joycon drift? 0/10 would NOT recommend. I need to get new ones, or to get mine repaired, cause my slapdash fixes don’t last more than a few days :/ I spent what felt like an HOUR last night fighting with a shrine puzzle while my joycons played merry hell

[dreamer213]

Broken Machines: Between The Shadows

Chapter 13: Jazztassic Throwdown

The rest of that day seemed to go by so quickly after that. Ciel didn’t say much after she finally stopped crying, but they managed to finish the exam. They re-exchange contact information because Penny leaves. She had never known how Ciel reacted to her presumed death, not even an inkling until now. It was surreal watching the recognition, pain, and joy erupt from Ciel in succession like that. She had never been so emotional in front of Penny before but seeing it made her feel oddly happy but also guilty. All that time she had been carrying all that grief for absolutely no reason. Logical she knows this isn’t either of their faults, her survival was miraculous and unexpected! And it seems the ripper effect it caused was still making new waves or rather Penny was realizing there were more out there than she ever thought there could be.

She vents a very curated version of her woes to Whitley later that night. Explaining how Ciel used to look after her and thought her injury had been fatal only to now realize she was alive and well. How she had cried a lot when she realized Penny was okay and couldn’t stop for a long time.

Penny: I’ve never seen her like that before, it felt strange in a good way. Like seeing how sad she was made me realize how much she genuinely cared for and missed me.

She says with a conflicted smile. Whitley doesn’t respond immediately as if he needed a second to absorb the knowledge that someone could react this way was a little too foreign for him to understand. After too long of a pause Penny gets a little worried but just as she’s about to ask if he’s okay Whitley perks up again.

Whitley: Sorry got a little lost in thought. But it’s great that you two could reunite after all that… I’m glad you have someone looking out for you like that.

His voice is chipper but there’s a tinge of sadness underlying the tone. Penny does not like this, but she gets it, Whitley has no one to look after him or miss him the way Ciel did for Penny so hearing about this must be disheartening, not that he would tell her that. But before he can change the subject Penny pulls out the concert tickets.

Penny: I also got these!

She waves the tickets in the camera view. Earlier she had debated with herself on who to bring with her but at this moment there was no contest.

Was it primarily because she turned to putty whenever her boyfriend was even a little too sad for her liking? Yes, but that was the nature of the beast that is being a doting girlfriend.

Almost two weeks later Whitley had hit a lucky streak, Jacques would be away the night of the concert into the following morning, and quite a few staff members had taken the night off, so he’d have no trouble sneaking out. Cut to the Saturday of the show, Jacques has already left the building and Whitley is sitting at his desk blazing through a mountain of paperwork, a passionate glint in his eyes as he slashes through form after form.

Whitley: Just a few more...just a few more.

He chants in his head, trying to keep his spirits up as he closes in on the last of his work for the week! If he could get this done, then there’d be nothing stopping him from enjoying the night ahead! Even if his wrist begins to ache and his lower back goes numb from lack of motion he presses on.

Whitley: Just one more!

He chants inwardly as he feverishly looks over the last document in his pile and files it out.

Whitley: Done!

He slams the paper onto the pile and shoots up from his desk! Streaking out as his body readjusts out of its sitting position. There was still a lot of prep to do before he went out but the rush of finishing this avalanche of documents had given him a second wind.

Whitley: Let’s not waste any time.

He straightened up his stack of paperwork before stepping toward his bathroom. Couldn’t go out on an evening date without freshening up first.

Down in Mantle Penny is also getting ready for the concert. She had done some research beforehand and prepped quite a bit in the lid up to the night off. She’s stocked up on water, tissues, and hand sanitizer, had their ride to show figured out, and picked out an outfit fit for the weather and venue. Now the troublesome part was doing her hair and makeup.

You see, Team FNKI is a neo-jazz/swing band. Their music was very vibrant and poppy, just like the bandmate's aesthetics. Their stage setup was usually bright with neon lights, they wore dust-infused costumes and used their semblances during their solos in fantastical displays of rhythm and power. Thus, their fan base would come dressed in one or both sides of the band’s aesthetic. Some came in bright streetwear, some in classy jazz club attire, or a mix of both.

Penny didn’t have much that matched either comfortably, but after looking through some old and new clothes she managed to pull together something fitting. She found a pair of her old stockings with glowing green stripes, borrowed some glowing power button pins from her dad, and got some thick black satin ribbon to upstyle her chosen outfit. Turning the pins into earrings, helping her dad make a heart-shaped pin to add to the bow of her headband, and lacing the ribbon through the sleeves of her pink cardigan were great after-work crafts. It was so much fun doing metal working with her dad and calling Ciel for advice on the sleeves since hers were what inspired her.

All said and done her concert ensemble was perfect! For Penny's taste at least. But then there was the makeup. She’d asked around for some ideas, she’d actually had to beg Octavia not to send her a year’s worth of cosmetics and had figured out a pretty good image to go for.

After getting partially dressed before washing and towel drying her face, Penny grabs out her newly purchased cosmetics container. Her selection was vested or luxurious, the most expensive thing she had in there was a palette gifted by Octavia months ago, but it had all the essentials. Brushes, lipstick, gloss, eyeshadows, liners, blush and nail polish of various were all present in limited amounts. But that was fine, she had enough for her needs and whims.

Penny: Alright let's get started!

She chirps to herself, propping up a small mirror on her bedroom floor and sitting down with her makeup case. Gathering her materials and looking herself dead on in the mirror, Penny begins her private beauty session. Starting with the most detailed intense work, Penny applies some sparkle-filled black eyeshadow to both her eyelids but only three-quarters of them. Then she goes in with an equally shimmery blush pink to cover the rest. Next is lipstick, first a hot pink on the top lip and outlining the bottom lip then fill in the rest with a softer pink. Lastly, a touch of blush and it's done! It’s not professional but still bright and poppy like she wanted it.

But it’s not over yet! Now it’s hair time!

Getting her whole head an initial brush before sectioning off two long strands from right behind her ears, Penny swoops the hair to one side and ties the section into a side ponytail. Brushing it out again, she rolls the ponytail into a bun and then secures it with a rubber band and bobby pins. Once it’s in place she adds an assortment of hairpins she’d picked up while shopping for supplies. Or rather the contents of a box of hair accessories for little girls she saw in the shop window of a tween accessory shop on the way home.

Hey, who said robots were immune to impulse buying?

She puts a total of four pins in, a treble cleft, a blue flower, a white butterfly, and a smiling kitty.

But that wasn’t her only find at that techno-colored store. To top off her look Penny pulls out the finishing touch, neon glow-in-the-dark nail polish!

Using the two-coat method from the nail kit’s instruction packet Penny applies a nice layer of green polish, lets it dry, and then adds a coat of clear setting polish. When her nails are fully dried Penny jumps up off the floor and runs to turn off her bedroom lights. As the darkness engulfs the room her nails shine a bright neon green, eliciting a chorus of excited giggles from the enamored android. She flickers the lights on and off a few times before setting down and putting on the rest of her outfit practically shaking with excitement.

She’d be dressed to the nines before long, no doubt to the delight of her performing friends and her lovely date.

In fact, said date was getting ready himself, dawning a periwinkle plaid pair of slacks with a white long-sleeve dress shirt with the matching plaid vest and long black coat to make his tie and gloves. It’s a damper look and though his gray face mask breaks the aesthetic a little his fake horn-rimmed glasses and light blue cap more than make up for that. As he applies some lip balm and sprays a little cologne on his shirt Mary stands by his bedside in wait. Since Jacques was only going to be out for the night and the probability of him staying long enough to force his intended mark to allow him to stay the night out of hospitality up in the air Whitley needed a lookout.

Whitley: My scroll will be on vibrate, if Father calls you know what to do.

He remarks, putting the cologne bottle down and walking to the door.

Mary: Yes, Young Master.

That’s all that’s said between them before Whitley leaves, Mary does as she was told and holds onto Whitley’s usual scroll before leaving for the kitchen. The manor was abnormally quiet and empty, and she had been given free rein to get a little snack from the main house kitchen. By the time Whitley’s out of the manor Mary’s poured herself a glass of wine and made a mini charcuterie board, things are looking quite lovely but somewhere in the pit of her stomach Mary can feel a pip of dread forming. This night would not end so peacefully.

But this dread had not reached Whitley as he journeyed to their usual meeting spot. Throughout his cab and train ride, he can feel himself smiling behind his mask. He’d never been to a causal concert so this would be a special treat, made even sweeter by the fact that he’d be sharing it with Penny. Vacating the train car as the doors opened Whirlpool couldn’t wait to partake in the exciting night they had ahead of them.

Upon exiting the station, it doesn’t take Whitley more than five seconds to spot Penny waiting for him. The light glow of her accessories made her easy to spot.

Now to some, the first thing they would have noticed about her outfit was how the flow of her black skirt and the tightness of her glowing stockings contoured her legs perfectly and made the uncovered part of her thighs look ever the more supple. Others would have noted how her makeup paired with the LED light of her earrings made her face glow in this almost fantastical way. And a few immediately acknowledged the way her open cardigan hung on her frame made her look extremely huggable.

But being her detail-oriented boyfriend, Whitley Schnee notices all three almost completely at once and springs over to her.

Being used to the way they’ve grown to greet each other Penny embraces him with open arms. She lets him get in close and rests his head on her shoulder as they take each other in but pulls away only a few seconds later when she feels a peck against her neck right above her chocker.

Penny: Ah!

She yelps while pulling back, left hand clasping over the spot Whitley just kissed feeling the remnants of chapstick sticking to her skin. Her shocked gaze is met with Whitley’s teasing smirk as he stares proudly at the little mark he’s left on.

Penny: W-w-what was that for?!!!

She stutters, face flushed with surprise and cheeks puffed in annoyance.

Whitley: Nothing really, I saw something sweet and wanted a taste.

He teases, pinky finger still hooked onto the center of his mask leaving his charming smile in full view to her. He lends in close bringing his lips right over her left ear.

Whitley: You look incredible, twinkling like a little star in the night. Then again, when don’t you? You’re always so brilliant, too brilliant to ever miss.

He whispers, voice playful but earnest. Penny can feel her heart pounding and her head going fuzzy again. If she had any less self-control, she would have kissed the smug look right off his face for being so damn enchanting!

But she couldn’t.

Her lipstick wouldn’t be enough to cover up her taste.

Penny: You look good too.

She replies, her tone a bit dour compared to her earlier spunk and shock. Whitley notes the difference immediately and backs off, instead offering her his arm.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a soft smile, the gesture soothes Penny’s nerves, and she clings to him as they go hail a taxi. The ride to the venue is uneventful aside from Penny’s excited bouncing in her seat as they draw closer to the club. Whitley’s unsurprised by her giddiness, she’d been gushing about this group since she’d got the tickets, and from her word and his own personal research Whitley could understand why. The concept of huntsmen musicians using all their talents to put on an amazing show was interesting. Seeing people with physical capabilities and powers far beyond the average person could be a dazzling spectacle. And tonight, he’d get to enjoy that spectacle, maybe even find some inspiration.

Penny: We’re here!

Penny cries as the taxi comes to a stop in front of the night's venue, the Obsidian Inn one of Mantle’s best jazz clubs. The building is dark with illuminated windows, the architecture less modern and more stylish as the front appears covered with pillars with music notes covered into them. It’s almost hard to see as the building is already swamped with people both inside and out. Venders, other concert-goers, and passers-by leave the street clogged up to the point there’s barely a few inches of free space for people to move around each other. Settling up the driver and getting out of the cab, Penny and Whitley hold hands tightly as they try to weave their way through the crowd. But the closer they get the more Whirlpool can feel eyes staring at them, heads turning to guck as they pass, and some stopping in their tracks.

This was not good, so far Whitley had been able to fly under the radar whenever he was in Mantle but it seems that his luck had run out.

Whitley: Just great. This is what I get for dressing up while sneaking out. Damn it.

He curses to himself, shuffling a little faster to try and escape the crowd as soon as possible but he’s stopped by the tug of Penny’s hand on his. Looking behind him, he sees that she’s stopped or rather had been stopped by a girl holding her scroll out and asking for a picture. The girl was about their age and seemed to be awestruck by the huntress in front of her and looking around she wasn’t the only one. Those gazes Whitley had felt earlier were all pointed at Penny, the beloved local heroine Penny.

Now Whitley knew she was well-liked when she’d run into fans during their last two dates, but this was far more intense than either of those times. It seems the sight of the protector out in causal clothing held a central appeal with the public and made her easier to approach.

Whitley: Who would have thought she was this level of celebrity?

Whitley mused, looking on as part of the crowd diverted to swarm Penny for selfies. Said star quickly growing overwhelmed by the attention but far too flattered to turn them away, still, she couldn’t leave her date hanging. Pulling her hand away from his, Penny fishes out one of the tickets from her purse and holds it out to Whitley.

Penny: Go ahead and find our seats, I’ll join you when I’m done with…. all this.

She gestures to the mini crowd forming around her. Whitley nods, whispering a soft “Good luck” before taking his ticket and heading inside. The bounce at the door checks his ticket and lists out the club’s rules of no fighting, underage drinking, drug use, and so on before letting Whitley in. The interior of the club is just as cool and campy as the exterior, the floors are velvet, lights are low aside from the neon trim highlighting the stage and bar area. The seating areas are mostly booths lined against the wall and around the sunken dance floor in front of the stage, with signs set on top of the tables with numbers marking the seating. According to his ticket Whitley and Penny’s table was closest to the stage. Sitting down at the edge of the booth Whitley looks around and takes in his surroundings. It’s a nice club, very chic but casual the usual jazz club feel. As he glances around Whitley notices s familiar face among the sea of people making their way to their seats.

Jemma: Remind me again why the hell you dragged me out here?

Julia: Because I finally got time off and tickets to a good live show, and thought my baby sis could use a night off from studying herself to death.

Jemma: Well, you thought wrong.

Sue: Aw come on Jem Jam lighten up! It’s not every day you get to see a band live like this! Especially not one like FNKI!

Jemma: If you say so.

Yes, there were three familiar faces among the crowd, two of which were far more familiar than the third.

Whitley: Oh crap.

Whitley turns his gaze away and lowers his head, trying not to be noticed as the three women pass by. Unfortunately, Sue starts taking pictures of the club, flailing around to get good shot of the venue. Being over-excited, she accidentally loses her grip on the device, and it slips from her hands and onto the floor. Where it lands right next to Whitley’s feet. He reaches down to try to pick it up and hand it to her before she gets too close, but Sue swiftly dives down in scope up her beloved scroll and their hands touch.

Sue: I got it, I got it! My bad! Thanks, dud-

Sue pauses as she stares into the all-too-familiar pair of blue eyes, one belonging to the young master she served. Her gaze is frozen on him, but his eyes start to drift behind her. Not knowing what to do she follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at her fluffy upright-in-stock with every strand of fur standing on end tail.

Sue: Oooh no, oh fuck! No!

Sue immediately breaks into a cold sweat as her shock quickly turns into panic at the realization that her job is in danger. Master Jacques was not a fan of fanus in the slightest and Whitley, kind as he was, was still his son. One word and her dreams would come crashing down around her and there was nothing she could do about it.

Tears form in the cracks of her eyes Sue opens her mouth to plead with him, but Whitley grips her hand and holds up a gloved finger to stop her. His eyes looked at her with an intense glint the likes of which she’d never seen before.

Whitley: Listen carefully because I’m not going to repeat myself.

He whispers, his voice is cold as frosting ice, tone sharp like a dagger.

Whitley: You didn’t see me here; I didn’t see you and this never happened. Understand?

He commands with no room for negotiation. Sue nods frantically in the affirmative, Whitley nods back and lets her hand go before shooing her away to which Sue scurries to her feet and runs over to her table, sitting in the seat that best blocks Jemma and Julia from seeing him.

Once he’s sure Sue’s gotten the message, Whitley sits back and relaxes a little. He moves to the more shaded side of the booth and takes off his coat before checking his scroll. There are no warnings or messages from Mary yet, so he just scrolls through his notes of leads and possible weaknesses in Jacques's corruption. The list predates the device it’s currently on and seems to grow every week. With the greedy tyrant’s hunger for power pointed elsewhere for the first time since he swindled his way into the Schnee family, Whitley had more opportunities to see the cracks from his position as the loyal dog.

Some of it was pretty tame but hard to unearth, other things were wretched that Whitley had a hard time stomaching the knowledge that it was happening.

Whitley: Disgusting.

He glares at his scroll, turning it off and setting it down a few inches away from him as if the knowledge contained in it made it too foul to be held anymore. Not more than a moment later Penny walks up with an apologetic look on her face as she approaches.

Penny: Sorry I took so long! I tried to be quick but more people wanted a picture with me than I thought.

She apologizes, and Whitley’s mood immediately perks back up.

Whitley: Don’t worry, it’s not your fault that the public adores you. And who can blame them? Having someone so formidable but adorable guarding your city would make anyone a little patriotic.

And just like he’s got her blushing again in about ten seconds, the soft glow of her flustered face lighting his stress by leaps and bounds.

Penny: Stop it, we’re a public venue! Other people might hear you.

She huffs before pulping down into the booth and sliding over to sit right next to him. Before Whitley can throw out a comeback the lights go out. the stage currents open but no lights come on, but the silhouette of four people with their instruments cut through the darkness. Suddenly the soft beat of drums and voices sweeps through the club from the stage sound system.

Flynt: Evening, everybody. It’s been a while.

The crowd cheers loudly as Flynt speaks to them, leaning against the wall from stage left while holding his horn.

Flynt: I know you missed us, but me and my crew’ve been busy. World’s been a mess and we’ve been out in the streets fighting the good fight for this little glimmer stone on the continental popsicle we call home!

The crowd cheers grow louder, some howler out “Whoa! MANTLE!” as Flynt continues.

Flynt: But tonight, we gonna forget all that. Tonight, we jammin. Tonight! We bring the house down!

With that spotlights cut on, revealing all of team FNKI dressed to the nines and already jamming out the intro to one of their more famous songs. Flynt saunters away from the sideline snapping to the beat and right on cue he hits his part and activates his killer quartet amplifying the sound with gusts from the trumpets.

The party’s truly on as the band plays in perfect harmony and swing. The set is electrifying with every song performed being full of passion and energy. At a certain point, there’s a bit of a switch-up to who’s leading the charge as five songs in Ivori’s bass seem to take over the melody for the sixth. The song is exquisite, matching his velvety aura as the notes seem to bounce off walls into a revolving melody that makes perfect use of the acoustics. This pattern of playing hard together then letting one bandmate take the spotlight persists throughout the show. Kobalt’s drum solo is a heavy hit combo, Flynt's use of his copies layers his sound beautifully and wraps the whole club in his tunes.

And then there’s Neon.

Neon Katt was dressed a bit differently from her friends. Fishnet gloves, a white rainbow heart patterned tube top dress with a ruffled skirt at the bottom with black shirts underneath, one fishnet stocking, one bunched up neon blue sock, glow stick ringlets on every limb, and her trademark skates were parred for the course with her but seemed too causal for what she was doing. Until the last song fades out and instead of starting in with another FNKI goes silent and Neon rolls out from behind her DJ booth, dawning a headset as she skates her way to center stage.

Under the spotlight, Neon turns away from the audience and then puts one hand on her hips and the other in the air. She puts down a finger and the crowd shouts out.

Audience: 5!

She puts down another.

Audience: 4!

And another.

Audience: 3!

It keeps going until-

Audience: 2…… 1!

When the crowd cries one the DJ booth roars to life with sound and Neon backflips off the stage onto the dance floor! When her wheels hit the ground rolls into a round around the dance floor until she gets to the center-right as the interlude stops and her first verse starts as her bandmates come in on the track.

Neon: We’re all born, with a dream, we wanna make, come true-oh! ~

She sings, tail bouncing to the beat as she starts to dance.

Neon: The best will climb to the top like me, the rest will end up like you! ~

She winks and throws a peace sign to the crowd as on the note for “you!” the song, “Neon Rainbow” is super hit pitch and poppy, matching Neon to a t! It’s clear this is her song, from her singing to the dancing and her overly stage presence, this was her very own personal anthem! This only solidifies when during the lines, “I’m cool like the rain and I’m hot like the sun!” where she pulls off two of the glow stick accessories and ignites them, revealing the accessories to be small dust canisters, ice, and fire respectively which she twists around for the rest of the chorus. Then she throws them into the air only to catch them with her tail as she starts to roll up to the isles. She skates up, down, and around the closest rows of tables, bringing the performance straight to the audience much to the fans’ delight.

Right in the third verse, Neon replaces a line with a call for a call and response!

Neon: Come on sing it with me now~

Her fans comply and come in with the next lyric.

Audience: Just think of happy things, you’ll see in no time! ~

Neon: Fun every day! ~

Audience: The clouds roll away! ~

Neon: Try it you’ll see! ~

Audience: Just be more me! ~

Neon: Woah!

At that moment Neon activates her semblance and glides back to the dance floor as the techno instrument plays. She zips around the floor in the haze of her rainbow, building momentum until she can’t even be seen beyond the mass of color. Until she jumps up into the air with a flip, when she lands it’s time for the last chorus!

Neon: Listen, girlfriend, can’t you see~ I’m all of the things, that you’ll never be! ~

Sticks come back for cool like the rain and hot like the sun and stay for the last line-

Neon: I’m a neon rainbow! ~ You’re no fun! ~

The instrument comes back for the last time and Neon dances it out til the end. By the end, she’s fabulously sweaty under the spotlight as the crowd goes wild. Looking over to the front row she spots Penny cheering her heart out absolutely overwhelmed by the spectacular performance! Neon puffs up her chest and with a mischievous glint in her she rolls straight up to her.

Penny: Huh?

Penny looks at her bewildered but doesn’t get a chance to ask any questions as the music picks back up. This distracts her long enough for Neon to take advantage and pull her up from her seat and onto the dance floor!

Neon: Time to boogie! Everybody, get on this dance floor!

The audience goes nuts and people start pouring onto the dance floor, leaving Penny and Neon to get swept up in the fray! Whitley immediately goes after them, catching the rhythm of the music and dancing his way through the sea of people. It’s a little tricky at first, he’s not used to dancing so close to people at such a high tempo but once he gets the rhythm down Whitley weaves his way through to the back where he finds Penny being twirled around by Neon. The two redheads are engaged in a very one-sided swing dance when Penny catches sight of Whitley. Her smile of relief draws Neon’s attention, and in an act of complete spontaneity spins Penny around fast then launches her in Whitley's direction!

By some miracle of quick reflexes and muscle memory Whitley manages to take hold of Penny’s hand before the spinning knocks her off balance and swings her into a dip. Her momentum coming in was pretty high, so he had to pull her lower than he ever had but they pulled it off without her falling. For a moment they lock gazes, Penny’s eyes twinkling with amazement and excitement. In a bid of playfulness, Whitley pulls her back, presses their bodies together shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest, and faces less than an inch away from each other.

Whitley: Shall we?

He says with a wink, Penny pauses for a second and gives an enthusiastic nod in agreement. It’s a far cry from the last time they danced together, much more casual, with spins, dips, and sways being more frequent to match the fast pace of the best. Their steps are lighter, and though they may not be as skilled as the more experienced fans they have a blast, nonetheless. They end up dancing for most of the night, only stopping when the heat of the dance floor gets too stuffy. Once they retreat back to their booth Whitley offers to get them some drinks to help them cool off.

Whitley: Got any preferences? Water, juice, soda?

Penny: Oh! Cam you see if they have root beer!

Whitley blinks at the odd suggestion but nods in agreement before sauntering off to the bar. While he’s gone, Penny checks herself in a small compact mirror she’s put in her purse. All that dance right up against him and the rest of the people on the dance floor meant sweat was flying all over the place. Luckily, it’s not too bad no stains on her clothes from bumping into people, and her makeup was as pretty as when she applied it. Putting away her compact Penny looked up at the stage happily, there was something so magical about seeing her friends in their element outside of hunting Grimm. They looked so…different but in a good way, more carefree if that was even possible.

While she gazed, Neon made eye contact and shot her cheeky “we’re sooo talking about this later” wink. Penny tenses and looks away, unnerved by what the brash car girl might have planned for her later.

At the bar, Whitley places his order, asking for Penny’s root beer first only to be told by the bartender that they don’t really sell it with their other soft drinks.

Whitley: What do you mind you don’t serve it?

Bartender: It means we don’t serve it.

Whitley: Then why do you have it?

Bartender: Look it’s not that we don’t, the brand we got just ain’t the kind you serve straight.

Whitley: Well, how do you serve it then?

The bartender picks up a pint and pulls out a tub of vanilla ice cream from the mini-fridge next to the ice maker. He grabs a scoop and fills the pint halfway with ice cream, pulls out the nozzle for the keg of root beer, and fills up the rest of the glass. Give it a good stir with a metal straw then gives it a whippet of whipped cream before stabbing a milkshake straw through it, even throwing in a tiny cherry on top before pushing it toward a stunned Whitley. A root beer float, an old-fashioned drink that was synonymous with youthful fun and hijinx. It was a drink for teens, something sweet to wash away the bitterness of a hard day learning in school, or a celebratory treat after a successful night mischief.

How perfectly on theme.

Whitley eyes the glass pint with an amused smirk then asks the bartender one last question.

Whitley: Is this all you have or are there other flavors?

After fifteen or so minutes Whitley returns with two ice cream floats, root beer for Penny, and orange cream for himself. He sets them down and scoots back into the booth with Penny who’s staring at the drinks with mouth-watering delight.

This was unreal! Penny had always wanted to try having root beer this was ever since Dad gave her a sip from his can while she was still getting used to her new senses. The illustration of it on that soda can was burned into her memory as another small want in her well of wishes. And now it was right in front of her!

Penny: How did you…

Whitley: Luck of the draw, it’s the only way they serve old fashion soda here, and I had a feeling you’d like it.

Penny squeals, she grasps the glass pint with both hands and looks at the drink with a beaming smile.

Penny: Thank you! I can’t wait taste it!

She squeals with glee before taking a big sip. It's cold, creamy and so sweet! The rougher taste of the root beer gives the overly sugary drink a real punch! Whitley watches her enjoy her beverage for a while before taking a sip of his own. It’s so citrusy and sugary wit a creamy texture that made it easier suck down. It was far more surgery than anything he’d ever tasted before, to the point his teeth itch a little.

The calorie intake on this alone would blow his diet straight to hell! Which is why it tastes all the more sweeter to Whitley as he keeps sipping. After all, this was a night of freedom and rebellion with his lady love, so all the rules be damned, diet included!

They spend the rest of the concert sipping their drinks and enjoying the music. It’s past midnight when the sect finally raps up with a bang of protectants, illuminating the stage in rainbow-coated bang!

Flynt: That’s all y’all, we out!

Neon: Love you peeps!

Kobalt: Keep it real!

Ivori: We’ll be back soon so look out for us on the scene!

Flynt: Good night, everybody!

The audience gives a final rearing cheer as Team FNKI has their current call and leaves the stage. Much of the crowd starts to leave while others stay as the club starts playing their usual selection. Penny and Whitley are about to make their exit when Neon glides in.

Neon: Heyyo Penny Pop! You enjoy the show!

She beams at them, standing right in the middle of their path and blocking the easiest route out.

Penny: Hello Neon. Yes, we really enjoyed the show. You and the rest of Team FNKI were amazing!

Neon: Aw, thanks, girl! Glad you had fun. But uh, I got say you really surprised me. Didn’t think you had it in you to pull something like this!

Penny: Huh? What are you talking about?

Penny cocks her head; she’s got no clue what Neon’s talking about. But it becomes clear when the cat girl rolls over to Whitley’s side and grabs onto his shoulders.

Neon: Nothing just that, You Brought A Date Without Telling Me!

The redhead faunus clasps Whitley’s masked face and smushes his cheeks.

Neon: I mean look at him! So classy, tall, and even smells good! Even with his face is all covered up, you can still tell he’s a total hottie!

Penny: Neon!

Penny protests, not that Neon was saying anything untrue but it’s completely inappropriate for her coworker to be talking about her boyfriend like that!

Neon: What? It’s true! Look at those strong shoulders.

Penny: Regardless! You shouldn’t say things like that about someone else’s boyfriend!

The moment the words leave her mouth Penny throws her hands over her mouth as she realizes what she’s just done. Neon looks at her dumbstruck then at Whitley then back a Penny before repeating her last word.

Neon: Boyfriend? He’s your-You have a boyfriend?!

Neon points out, looking totally mystified while Penny begins to fidget as she struggles to find a way out of this.

Penny: That’s-I-It’s not…..

Penny can’t find the right words to say, she couldn’t deny it outright because of her tell and she couldn’t deny it non-verbally because she’d already confirmed it with her first statement. Whitley’s about to cut into the conflict but Neon lets him go and turns tail toward the way she came.

Neon: I gotta tell the guys, they’re gonna flip!

She exclaims before dashing off to a backstage door. Fearing their secret is about to be exposed, Whitley and Penny quickly get their things together and chase after her. They rush the door behind her only to find she’s already caught up with her teammates and is about to spread the news!

Neon: Guys, you are not gonna believe this, Penny has a-

Penny: Neon Katt!!!

Penny shouts, interpreting the playful party girl just in time. She and Whitley stand opposite the rest of Team FNKI while Neon stands in the middle, an incoming confrontation looming over them as young lovers try to smooth the situation over.

Penny: Neon, I need you to not do what you’re about to do.

Neon: Why not? It’s good news!

Penny: Please! The situation is very, very complicated, and I rather keep it private! Please just don’t-

Neon: Don’’t what?! What’s so complicated about you having a boyfriend?

And just like that the cat’s out of the bag straight from another cat’s mouth. Penny visibly deflates while Whitley facepalms, all that planning, secrecy, and effort down the drain in one night because of a nosy friend. Said friend seems completely unaware of what she’s just done while her teammates gaze at the pair in stunned shock as they take in the news.

Kobalt: Get out! Are you serious?!

Ivori: No, freaking, way! I knew something was going on, you had a happy little glow to you but for the life of me I could not place it. Now I see where it was coming from!

The two men gush, absolutely endeared to their younger co-worker's budding relationship. Except for Flynt, who looks down at the couple from his shade with a usually harsh look of suspicion while the rest of his team continues their fawning.

Neon: Right? Now all those weird texts make sense. You were fishing for dating advice, weren’t you?

Kobalt: What text? What are you talking about-

Ivori: -O. M. Double G, No! That would mean-you two have been together for that long?! Really?!

Neon looks at Ivori with a raised eyebrow until her mind backtracks enough to realize that what she’d just discovered was not a new thing. The gears in her head were practical steaming for all to see as the cat girl looked down at her hands and counted with her fingers, double-checking a few times to make sure she got it right.

Neon: That was almost like three months ago!

Kobalt: Seriously? Penny had a boyfriend for three months and nobody knew. No way?!

Ivori: This is just too cute, I gotta know how this went down.

The three, now brimming with curiosity, come together and bombarded the couple with a rapid fire of questions, mostly directed at Penny. Said girl doesn’t know how to handle the mess of prying queries but amidst the chaos, Flynt strides around his crew and squares up with Whitley. Standing right in front of him a looking down at him with shade-covered eyes.

Flynt: So, you’re Penny’s boyfriend huh?

Flynt asks, his usual playful mannerisms coming off more threatening tone then mildly smug. Whitley just nods yes in response, not speaking as he can tell just hearing his voice might set Flynt off.

Why?

Because Whitley knew good and well this man had an issue with him. More accurately he had issues with his father, Jacques.

Flynt immediately proves his point as his suspicious stare twists into a hateful glare.

Flynt: I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. How ‘bout you open your mouth and speak up-

All of a sudden, he reaches down and rips the mask right off of Whitley’s face!

Flynt: -Whitley Schnee!

Flynt’s voice drips with venom, the others look on in horror as he grabs the teen by his collar and gets in his face. The shock only lasts a second before Neon and Kobalt rush to pull him off, screaming at him to knock it off and unhand the kid while trying to pull back. But Flynt stands strong, anger keeping him firmly planted in place like a still burning hot lava stone as he breaks into a tirade.

Flynt: You got a whole lot of nerve waltzing into my show, in my city with one of my friends Schnee! Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your sorry ass or were you trying to piss me off?!

He smears, Neon, and Kobalt are still trying to get him to stop but there’s no getting through to him.

Kobalt: Dude, stop! This ain’t the time or the place!

Neon: What the hell, Flynt! What’s gotten into you?! Knock it off!

Flynt: BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!

The shout stops both of them in their tracks.

Flynt: This got nothing to do with you so back the fuck up!

Neither seemed to know what to do, they’d never seen him rage like this before. Flynt is about to go off again but a stinging pain in his arm stops him. Looking down at his arm Flynt catches sight of Penny’s hand gripping his forearm. Looking over at her, Penny’s gaze is sharp and pointed, a stare usually reserved for grimm and the worst of criminals.

Penny: Flynt Coal, release Whitley immediately, or I will make you release him.

She commands, pressing her thumb into his wrist hard, a silent threat to obey or risk losing the limb. Flynt relents and lets go, rubbing his wrist with his unharmed hand to soothe it. Penny’s gaze doesn’t waiver though, it stays firmly locked in Flynt.

Penny: Now, explain to me why you just assaulted a civilian!

She orders, anger ripe in her voice. Flynt grits his teeth at her demand and Penny continues to glare at him in wait for her answer. The atmosphere is unbearably tense as the two usually calm huntsmen stare daggers at each other when Whitley finally speaks up.

Whitley: It’s nothing personal to me, just family ties. My father screwed over his, devastated the poor man’s long-standing dust business to make way for his monopoly.

This exclamation pulls everyone’s attention to Whitley, Flynt stammering a little at his honesty as Whitley continues.

Whitley: It’s a shame really, how big corporations bulldoze over locate businesses. Especially when it’s spearheaded by a megalomaniac with a moral code lower than most casinos.

He tilts his glasses, swagger just as prim and proper as always, as he looks Flynt directly in the eyes.

Whitley: Really, who could blame the family, in this case, the son, of one of those poor unfortunate souls for getting a little volatile when confronted with the spawn of the person he hates most? And at his own concert no less! Honestly, anyone would have lost their cool over this. Isn’t that, Flynt Coal?

He extends a hand to him, face fixed into his usual business smile. The message he was sending Flynt was clear, he had no ill will toward him in regard to their fathers’ conflict. He wasn’t here for anything more than a date with his girlfriend and any external conflict was just a coincidence. It reminded Flynt of how he came at Weiss but instead of dancing around it in a fight like she had, Whitley was upfront. No dental or pretense, just straight facts. He knew the score, knew what his family name had become, and wasn’t gonna pretend they had any leg to stand when it came to morality.

That’s gutsy, Flynt could respect that.

He grips Whitley’s hand and gives it a firm shake.

Flynt: Yeah, my bad.

He relents, the atmosphere calms as the two come to a silent trust.

Ivori: Okay! Now that that’s settled-

Ivori finally steps up, striding up from the shadows and grabbing everyone’s attention. He plants himself strategically between Whitley, Flynt, and Penny, making the two lovers back up to one side and the band to the other as he prattles on.

Ivori: -Why don’t you two tell us your story?

He gestures to Penny and Whitley.

Ivori: We’d love to hear how this all came about.

He inquiries, voice soft and soothing as the texture of his last name's sake. The couple exchange glances, Penny looks anxious, so Whitley gets in close and whispers to her.

Whitley: Do you trust them?

He asks, Penny pauses to think for a moment. Flynt, Neon, Ivori, and Kobalt had always been friendly to her and never let her down be it as friends or on missions. Neon, despite being the cause of this, had been her closest confidant when her crush had started and had been there when her heart was shattered. All that said this was still a very sensitive situation, one that could ruin them all if it got out. She looks over to Whitley and then at her comrades.

Penny: Flynt Coal, Neon Katt, Ivori Lace and Kobalt Co.

She addresses all of them with a firm tone and all four freeze, shocked as Penny had never called them out at once before.

Penny: What I am about to tell you is very personal information. Information that could be a detriment to the safety of myself, Whitley, and any other parties involved if not handled carefully.

She takes Whitley’s hand in hers and clasps it protectively.

Penny: I need to know none of you will ever let this leak, that this information will stay between the four of you and no one else.

Her voice is tense but unyielding, and the carefree bunch knows she's being painfully serious. The team look amongst each other and nod in the affirmative. There is an unusual air of seriousness around the group as they recognize the gravity of their circumstances, and return Penny’s determined gaze with equal resolve.

Flynt: We won’t tell a soul, I promise you.

Flynt responds with utmost sincerity eliciting a respectful nod from the female android. With one last glance to Whitley, who gives her a reassuring nod, Penny takes a deep breath before proceeding.

Penny: Okay, we’ll tell you.

Penny and Whitley take their time explaining how they met, fell in love, and began their secret relationship. It’s quite the story, a tale all four huntsmen become completely enthralled in, as they learn of the many trials, twists, and turns the couple faced in their quest of love. By the end, Flynt looks absolutely ashamed of himself, Neon is starting to whimper through tears, Ivori is dabbing at his misty eyes with a handkerchief, mascara tear stains ruining his foundation be damned, and Kobalt is facing away from everyone with his head pressed against the wall so no one can see him sobbing into his arm.

Whitley: We hope you understand why we had to be so careful.

Penny: We just wanted to be together, despite the risk. I know it sounds foolish and selfish but when I hear he snuck out all the way to Mantle to just to find me, I.. I just couldn’t hide my feelings anymore; I couldn’t turn him away.

Penny muses while staring lovingly at Whitley, who in turn cups her cheeks and gazes at her with the same admiration.

Whitley: And I couldn’t spend any day without you, the loneliness would have killed me.

Penny: No, it wouldn’t have.

Whitley: Yes, but honesty is a life without love even worth living?

He jests and she laughs, their usual brand of sarcasm and honesty bouncing off each other in perfect harmony. But the loving atmosphere is soon broken by Flynt.

Flynt: Alright! I think we get the gist of it! You two fell in love, but his daddy wasn’t about to let that happen, so you started sneaking around behind his back! That about it?!

He declares in a slightly flustered tone, his earlier ire replaced with awkwardness. He obviously feels terrible for the way he acted and is floundering to backtrack his attitude. Luckily Neon cuts in before he can spiral any worse.

Neon: That was the sweetest, saddest, most heartbreaking thing I ever heard! I can’t believe you hid your epic love story from me!

She whines, her tears bouncing with every word before her face settles into a pout.

Penny: Sorry, but you have a tendency to gossip, and I couldn't risk this becoming known.

Neon: I can keep a secret!

Penny: Would you have if I told you from the start?

Neon: Uh, well uhh…probably not.

Penny: And that’s why I didn’t tell you.

Neon: But still! If you’d told what the deal was from the start I could have-

The hum of loud vibration breaks the conversation, its Whitley’s scroll going off.

Whitley: Excuse me.

He steps away and pulls out the device to check his messages. It’s from Mary, apparently, Jacques had called for a driver, the unlucky duck being poor Godfrey, to come to get him early.

Mary: [I was roaming the halls and could hear him shouting on the line at Godfrey. Poor man looked like he was going to cry.]

She texted, Whitley grimaces as he reads the text then sighs, turning back to the group with a disgruntled look on his face.

Whitley: Apologizes but it looks like my night on the town is over.

Penny: What?!

She asks a little shaken with worry, this was the first Whitley had ever had to leave a date early. Whitley pats her shoulder softly before reaching down to pick up his discarded mask as he explains.

Whitley: Father’s coming home and in likely foul mood. I need to get back before him to batten down the hatches for the incoming tantrum.

He states, dusting off mask before dawning it again. Penny wants to protest but backdowns before uttering a word. This was the deal they made, the only way they could be together, she couldn’t act spoiled when things didn’t go her way. Knowing how much this must disappoint her Whitley pulls down his mask and gives Penny a soft kiss on the forehead.

Whitley: Sorry, Penny. I can make it back on my own you enjoy the rest of the night with your friends. I’ll call you when I get back.

Penny: No, I’d rather go with you to the station.

Whitley: You sure?

Penny: Yeah, this was fun, but I don’t want to stay without you. Besides I promised to be there whenever you come to and from Atlas.

Whitley: But it’s late.

Penny: Yes, and my promise did not come with time restrictions.

Whitley: Oh you!

He squished her cheeks, gods she just couldn’t help being so adorably earnest, could she? While the two lovebirds fawn at each other and attempt to figure out their transportation plan Flynt steps in to offer a helping hand.

Flynt: ‘Ey if you need a lift home, we can help you with that.

He stated, wrapping an arm around Kobalt’s shoulder and pulling him forward.

Flynt: Koco’s a damn good getaway driver with a mean set of wheels. He can get you up top in a hot minute. Right Koco?

Kobalt: Yeah! Just gimme an address and I’ll get you there no problem!

He exclaims chest puffed up with pride. Penny and Whitley share questioning glances, it would be easier to get a direct ride home for both and cut their commute time down considerably. It was a genuine kind offer so what would be the harm in taking it?

In the alley behind the jazz club, Kobalt walks the pair to a large van. The vehicle has a heavy coat of black paint decorated with blue hot rod flames and neon strip lights. It was clearly meant to be a cargo vehicle but had clearly been modded for speed in the most brazen ways possible. As if its owner had tried to convert it into a race car but couldn't find its humble origin.

Kobalt: Alright kiddies meet your lift for the night. This is my ride, my baby Blue Blaze!

Kobalt beams, proud to show off his beloved car. Meanwhile, the young couple have some reservations about this mode of transport.

Whitley: …. Wow.

Kobalt: I know right? Ain’t she a beauty?!

Penny: Isn’t this a standard-issue all-terrain delivery van?

Kobalt: Yeah! My old man knows a guy who runs a shipping yard, sold me one of his old vans for cheap.

Whitley: Is it even street-legal?

Kobalt: Of course! She’s old but still runs like a dream!

Whitley: Is it insured?

Kobalt: Well, yeah……mostly, for like most stuff. Come on! Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Whitley pauses, contemplating whether or not this is a really good idea, but time is of the essence, so he relents. They get in, Whitley and Penny in the back and Kobalt in the driver seat, everyone buckles u, Whitley gives him the address and they take off into the night. The drive is actually quite smooth as Kobalt takes his own route through Mantle’s streets, navigating like only a true city native can. Everything is fine and dandy until it’s time to go up.

Now most far-traveling vehicles that went to and from Atlas to Mantle and into the tundra had to be built with three modes to be driven. First was standard street mode, second was heavy terrain for trekking on the ice of the snow climate, and lastly, to reach Atlas was flight mode. Every road vehicle that traveled between the cities had a street and flight mode. Blue Blaze was no different.

As they’re driving Kobalt turns into a take-off road, a road that was little more than a public runaway for flying vehicles. Cars are spaced further apart than on other roads to accommodate flight gear, needed momentum, and clear passage. There was no turning or passing in the lanes only moving forward and into the sky. Once on the road, Kobalt engages the flight mode, and the van shifts, the windows and doors tighten shut, and the wings and thrusters emerge from their place in the thick undercarriage. Kobalt speeds up, going with the flow of traffic, a fiat that necessitated Atlas and Mantle driver’s licenses class B and above to have the hardest driver’s proficiency test of all four kingdoms. The van shifts and hops as it starts to gain some air.

Whitley, having never flown in such a small craft, starts to get nervous. His stomach drops as he second guesses if this damn thing can even make it off the ground! Penny, seeing his uneasiness, reaches out and holds his hand, clasping it gently and giving him as sweet smile when he looks up once he feels her touch. This distracts him as take off is emanate.

Kobalt: Hold on tight! We’re going up!!!

Kobalt howlers, the moment he feels that all the wheels are on the ground he guns the thrusters and they take off from the runway road into the sky!

Whitley grabs onto Penny tight as he feels the break of the sound barrier closer than ever before! His body pushed back into the seat from the force of the lift-off makes him flinch and close his eyes tight!

He doesn’t open them again until the ride smooths out. When they hit a coursing altitude and the turbulence has calmed down Whitley takes a peek and finds Penny still holding his hand calmly. She was completely unbothered by the lightness under their feet and the hum of air rushing around the outside of the van. Looking past her and out the window Whitley sees something incredible.

From the angle they were ascending, he could see the city Mantle below, parts of the underside of Altas, the tundra around both, and the starry sky. It was an alien experience, seeing the place he’d lived in all his life from this point of view. He could see some of the inner workings of the structures that were usually unseen in the higher metropolis and the totality of the lower city. All the lights, towers, and buildings of the grounded city and the maze-like layout of its streets. And the mountains, being above one would never know just how enormous and intimidating they really were. But here as they go up Whitley can see just how massive the tundra surrounding the territory was as even the smaller of them were as tall as Mantle’s highest building and the largest could easily press at the bottom of Atlas if not pierce through it. The darkness of the night sky only heightens the depth of the world around him, stars twinkling in the distance further than anyone could ever reach.

For a moment Whitley truly understands how small he is compared to the grandness of the frozen kingdom and how little he has really seen of any part of the world he was born in, even in his own birthplace.

The majesty of it has him so encapsulated Whitley continues to stare out the window until it’s time for the landing.

The jolt of the van bucking back onto solid ground breaks him from his trance, his grip on Penny’s hand tightening as he jolts back back to reality from the shift in gravity. Penny doesn’t mind it and holds onto him as the van zips onto Atlas’s streets. The van weaves and rolls through back streets and shortcuts Whitley had never been down before, Kobalt commanding the vehicle with surprising expertise. It was oddly thrilling, like being in a scene out of a coming-of-age movie.

A getaway driver is making great time to get the male lead home after a night of mischief, the female lead coming along out of gentle concern and sweet stubbornness. The outlandishness of it all was enough to make Whitley grin!

Had he ever had this much fun in one night before?

Whitley: Is this what they call the thrill of youth? I could get used to it.

He muses, his nerves fully relaxed as they continue on towards the manor. When they’re just about forty yards from the monument estate Whitley gets up from his seat and taps Kobalt’s shoulder.

Whitley: Pull over here, I’ll walk the rest of the way.

Kobalt nods and parks the van. When the vehicle comes to a complete stop Whitley unbuckles his seatbelt, rushing to get out. But turns around before his feet can touch the ground and plants a quick kiss on Penny’s cheek.

Whitley: I’ll call you tomorrow, Good night my sweet.

He whispers, playfully winking before hopping out of the van and making a dash for the manor. Penny closes the van door behind him and watches him from the window. Instead of walking through the front door Whitley seemingly disappears into the estate after running out of her field of view.

Confused at where he’s gone, Penny texts Whitley to see if he’s made it in alright and replies yes. She asks how and he replays cheekily with-

Whitley: [That’s my little secret. At least, for now]

Penny giggles at the message and writes back a good night before giving the all-clear to head back.

She can’t help but smile, this night had been amazing in so many ways. Even though their relationship was discovered the news was received positively by most. Sure there were some bumps here and there and some loose ends to tie up with her friends, Neon was definitely going to bug her about this for the next week at the least, but overall this had been the best outcome.

So on their way back into the city and Penny spots a familiar white limousine, she doesn’t feel the nervousness she normally would.

A bastard businessman would be coming home to a perfectly quiet house, his heir “sleeping” peacefully in his bed just as he had expected.

The perfect crime without a trace of evidence.

At least for the act they thought would be the end of them.

[philhoffman]

This week’s Monday Philm is The Boat That Rocked (2009), AKA Pirate Radio (and a million other names). I’m really glad this is the movie that came up chronologically this week because in addition to being one of my favorites, it’s a warm and pretty lighthearted one.

I could easily watch the rumored five-hour cut of this movie every day. Aside from the government scenes and sex crime, every moment of this film is so much fun. I always think I’ve built it up more in my head than it really is (I think about this film very, very often) but then it hits such a stride in the last hour or so and it’s tremendous fun. One of the most fun movies to watch, I love every second spent on this boat. Certain lines catch me by surprise and make me laugh out loud every time—Rhys Darby is SO funny, he really stood out on this rewatch.

Phil was the first to point out that The Boat That Rocked is an ensemble film, and it definitely is—Carl is the closest thing it has to a protagonist, and even then he spends most of the film in the background. But it’s also undeniably grounded by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s The Count. There might be a few practical reasons that explain why that is—the only American in the script, the biggest star in the cast—but it really comes down to his ineffable qualities, his unspoken power as an actor. Oddly enough it reminded me a bit of A Most Wanted Man, the way everyone and everything else gravitates towards and around his character, his presence. Earlier this week I reblogged a post about how all the famous British comedians in the cast competed with each other to see who could make Phil laugh the most. You can hear his laugh over everyone else’s. He’s always been amazing among ensembles, knowing when to shine and when to fit (but never fade) into the background—Boogie Nights, Magnolia, State and Main, even stealing scenes in Leap of Faith—but by this age (and in roles of authority, perhaps) he’s got a natural command.

I love the Count. My favorite PSH character changes daily but he’s often number one. Maybe it’s stuff I’ve read lately, maybe it’s the fact that I watched it this week and I’m projecting, but I really picked up on his sadness this time. The Boat That Rocked is a comedy about pirate DJs in the 1960s, but it has some depth and a few very tender moments, especially toward the end. The Count sitting alone on the deck, thinking about how the best days of his life are over. Deciding to go down with his ship because music is all he has. Knowing there will be more amazing songs in the future, but he will not be around to play them. The Count of Cool, the Count of Chaos. Always home, always uncool.

There’s a moment when, as the Count and Gavin are stuck high on the ship’s mast, Phil sorta pops his jaw out—and for a second I saw him at 25 again, doing the same exact gesture in My Boyfriend’s Back. That happens a lot, recognizing the slightest gestures across decades, especially as I rewatch his films more and more, always searching for something. He’s 30-something and rolls his eyes the same way he will in a decade. He’s a kid standing with his hands on his hips the same way he’ll stand when he’s 46 years old. He blinks with his whole face the same way his son will someday. He disappears into characters but for a second he smiles or turns away and I can see the man I’ve been so fortunate to come to love. That red-haired, freckle-faced boy, the man who was asked in an interview about this film what music he would save in a fire and said “If I could get out of the house with my family, everything else could burn.”

Phil died nine years ago this week and I don’t want that to be the focus of this review, I don’t want it to be the focus of anything, I still don’t want it to be real. But it bleeds into everything, so I’m just trying to find some softness in it. Before watching tonight, I went to the store to pick up some of his favorite donuts (my favorite kind, too, and I swear I’m not copying him he just has good taste!). Seems like something he’d appreciate. I miss you a lot, Phil.

[onggi]

Shatterpoint

I don’t have a mother, but if I did, she would be a tear duct. I don’t talk about it — I know there’s something a little alien about me, but that’s not exactly why.

Question: How can something born of sadness ever be more than the sum of its parts?

Answer: It can’t. It will always be the product of sadness, born from a dragon’s tear shed over the destruction of war and conflict and the loss of new life. That will mark it forever, inescapably so.

At least, that’s what I believed, but if there was a way to get closure somehow, things would be different. They’d have to be.

I land on the crystallised dustbowl of a planet approximately two days before the spring cycle. Seasons are different on different worlds, but the leylines keep time. They always do. I don’t know why I was drawn to this place, but there’s something magical in the air.

The town is colloquially referred to as the Edge of Nowhere for its isolation. It had a real name, once; one that was probably given with love. Now, it’s the bottom of the barrel, chugging along on the coattails of a crystal mining industry that has slowed down considerably. It’s remote, sparsely populated with travellers who will pass through once and then forget they’ve ever been. I spread my fingers against the dusty ground, feeling the hum of something discordant buzz through my body. Some strange resonance, like an oddly melodic song, seeps right into my bones.

When I sleep, I don’t dream. I think dreaming is for the living, and I’m not quite living, but I’m not dead, either — that would imply I was alive at some point. I’m more automaton than flesh and blood. That’s why it’s so odd when that night, as I close my eyes for my deadsleep, I find myself walking towards the desert. I know, somehow, that there is a brutal tear in the ground itself. I also know that I need to go there. I don’t know what awaits me, out there in the endless liminal sandscape beyond the Edge.

I wake to darkness. I’ve been told that the local pub and lodge, the Watering Hole, is where most people convene at this time of day. Or night. When I press into the throng of people, the acrid smell of booze washing over me like a sordid wave, it’s with my wings boldly visible. I’m used to the looks, so maybe that’s why I don’t notice him. At least, not at first.

Fact: This isn’t my first time here. I’ve returned here time and time again since my inception, each time hoping to find something different. Things have always, unfailingly, been the same — until now. This time, I don’t just feel the earth. I feel someone else, too. I haven’t realised that yet.

“Do you know anyone with a half decent motorskip who could go out on the betweenland?” I ask the bartender. I’ve asked every time, but I’ve never felt the imperative need to be out there before.

Out on the betweenland is the Tear. Tear as in torn, not as in shed, although it makes sense in a way that they’re such similar words. The few people who do live here avoid it like the plague. Too dangerous, they say. Well, maybe it is, for a living being. If I get hurt, I can just stick myself back together.

“Told you last time you was ‘ere,” the bartender replies, “ain’t nobody gonna take you to the Tear.”

Double negatives. It should make a positive, but out on the Edge, it doesn’t.

I haven’t paid the hulking mass hunched over the bar beside me any notice until now, but at the mention of the Tear, it seems to rearrange itself in its layers of black and leather. One huge hand, circled around a glass of amber whiskey, clenches as if to make a fist.

“I’ll take you.”

He doesn’t have that Edge twang to his voice. An outsider, then. Like me. There’s not a single inch of his body that isn’t covered in swathes of fabric. His hands are gloved.

I smile. It’s not really a natural expression for me — none of these mortal displays of emotion are. I don’t really know how to feel emotions the way they do.

“Thank you.”

He tosses back the drink and huffs out something that could be a laugh, but that doesn’t feel quite right, because I haven’t done anything funny.

“Don’t thank me. You’re going to your death out there.”

He tells me his name. I tell him mine. By the time I convince him to go into the Tear with me, we’re almost close enough that I can read the sadness and worn tiredness in the fibres of his muscles.

I wonder if I look that sad. He’s got deep, soulful eyes, filled with a life of regret and another life of denial. I wonder if his third life will be different. Maybe this will bring him as much closure as it will bring me.

I don’t know why I think that, but it doesn’t feel wrong. There’s something about him that tells my magic we’re kindred. I can’t figure out how. He’s not a dragon, but there’s a little bit of draconic aura around him, broken and diminished as it is.

When he finally tells me why, it makes sense. I don’t know how to reassure him.

He pulls off the glove, revealing a crystal hand. I place my smaller palms over his, barely pressing.

“You’re like me.”

It’s the first time anyone has said that to him. It’s the first time I’ve said it to anyone, too.

I kiss him. He kisses back.

It’s an egg. The whole planet is an egg, partially destroyed during the Void Wars, and at its centre is a dead foetus, bleeding amniotic fluid that the miners have been harvesting in the form of powerful crystals for centuries. But it’s drying up now. It’s been drying up for a long time.

When he sees it, he goes white with shock. When I tell him I’m here to destroy it, he opposes it vehemently.

Why? I thought we had an understanding. I don’t get why he’s reacting like this. It’s so human.

He shatters me.

“I can’t do it,” he says to me when I reopen my eyes, shatterpoints shakily reattached with a large and clumsy hand. “I can’t do what they did to me.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You were alive. This one is not.”

He shakes his head, running his crystal hand through his shaggy hair, and sighs deeply. It’s the sigh of an old, old man.

“It’s desecration,” he says.

I’m confused. “What do you mean by that?”

He seems frustrated. “Messing with the dead. Messing with the dead of dragons.” He reaches out to touch me, then retreats as if burned. “It’s not something that’s done.”

He’s scared, I realise. This hulking warrior of ages past is scared of — what? What is he scared of? The egg? The remnants of a dead foetus, life that never was? Or me?

“I can’t leave things as they are,” I say instead of voicing any of these questions. It’s unlike me. If I have a question, I ask it. But right now, I know that if I were to ask any of those questions, he’d shatter as easily as I did beneath the weight of his chains. Maybe not on the outside, but internally.

He lets out that deep sigh again.

“I know.”

When we lay it to rest, he cries fat, bubbling tears. In another world, he would have been a fully fledged dragon. I could have been born from tears like those.

When we lay it to rest, I feel nothing at all. I thought it would be different.

I thought it would be the end.

“No, Angel,” he whispers into my hair that night, camped beside a fire. “It’s just the beginning.”

[moonjxsung]

Sadly this album also felt a bit bland to me 😭 I love love love the Fimmie’s music so I really expected to like it, but I agree this feels like just an album they released to have more music fitting for Coachella. I hate to say it and younger me would be so disappointed if she heard me but girl group comebacks recently aren’t really hitting the same 🫠 from IVE’s awful (sorry) song with Saweetie to IDLE’s questionable comeback to me only really liking two songs from LSF’s new comeback.... 🥲

I was purely a gg stan for a loooong time, so this is really sad to me lol the only group really feeding me good old girl group music recently is Triple S, but I’m still hopeful this year will be good for my other girlies 🩷

~🌷~

NO I AGREEEE ABOUT THE GG COMEBACKS !! Oddly I feel like last year we got so much good stuff but I’m thinking thing year is gonna belong to bg comebacks, OR comebacks might just be disappointing as a whole 🫠 only album I’ve really liked so far recently from a gg has been nmixx’s (which I feel like might be an unpopular opinion?) but I thought Dash was SOOOO CATCHY and soñar really grew on me after a few listens. Not to mention their entire vocal line is BEYOND talented like it’s unreal. Also Drama by Aespa ofcccc, I think I watch the music video for Winter like…. once a day minimum. ALSO cat and mouse by Black Swan,… I think that came out a while ago? but good LORD it’s so catchy. I know all those came out in 2023 but they’re still kinda recent I think? BUT interested to see what girl groups are gonna do this year bc so far I’m not feeling anything 😔☹️

OMG ALSO SUPER LADY….. I’m so gay I watch that video while doing everything I will fr be brushing my teeth, eating dinner, working. Doesn’t matter, that video is getting played at LEAST once a day.

Girl groups I love you I’m still rooting for better music this year xoxoxo

[boldlyvoid]

Surprise, Surprise | e.m

Summary: he just wanted to know why she was so distant

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, unplanned pregnancy

Word count: 1K

She’s been avoiding him for a few days. Too tired to talk on the phone at night, taking extra shifts at work… she even blew off their regular Tuesday date before his gig at the hideout. It wasn’t like her at all to be this busy or closed off, and it worried him deeply. 

He was certain that she wanted to dump him but just didn’t know how… and why would she want to be with him. He was still in high school when he could just get his GED and stop fussing over it. He still lived with his uncle, he didn’t have a job outside of selling drugs, occasionally. 

His girlfriend, on the other hand, had a job at the daycare in town with a degree in child care from the local community college. She had a little house that she rented and cared for, she had her own car and friend group and lifestyle that he thought he easily fit into but he knew this would happen eventually. She was older than him, she had different dreams and aspirations that he wasn’t ready for which led them down a one-way street to disaster. 

But here he was, sitting in his van outside her house, trying to gather up enough confidence to go talk to her about what the heck was going on. 

He can see the tv flickering behind her curtains, the blue light was all that let him know she was even home. This also meant when she ignored his call earlier, she was sitting by the phone and she just didn’t want to pick up. 

He gets out of the van with a huff and slams the door. He stomps up the steps and angrily knocks on the door until she’s swinging it open. “What? Oh… hi.” 

“Hi,” he softens when he sees her, she looks like she’s been crying, wrapped up on a blanket and chocolate melted on the corner of her mouth. “You okay?” 

She shakes her head as she sobs and falls into his chest. He’s quick to move them inside and close the door again, he picks her up and carry’s her into the living room again so she can cuddle into him. He rubs her back and kisses the top of her head, not expecting an explanation just yet. 

“You’re going to be so mad at me,” she whispers. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” 

He’s scared. “Whatever it is, we can work through it?” He offers. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh,” his heart drops into his stomach. “Oh, fuck…”

She sits up and looks at him with such sad eyes, “I know you’re not ready… and if you leave I get it, but—

“I’m never leaving you!” He cuts her off. “I mean, yeah, I’m not ready at all but who ever is? We’ll be okay.” 

“You mean it?” She looks terrified. “I’ve been so scared to tell you.”

“I thought you were going to dump me,” he admits with a slight laugh, oh how he was wrong. “You’ve been so closed off, I was sure of it.”

“No, no,” she cups his face and sits in his lap. “I’m not leaving you either.” 

He leans in as he speaks softly, “so I guess our baby’s going to grow up with two parents who love each other?” He brushes his nose against hers, gently. 

“Wonder what that’s like?” She teases before pressing her lips against his and breathing him in. 

He pulls her in closer, feeling up her hips before moving up to cup her barely there bump in his hands. She giggles against his lips, “we’re having a baby…”

He smiles, bigger than he ever has before, surely his dimples are popping, “what d’you want?” 

She presses her lips together as she thinks, taking a deep breath, and she shakes her head. “I don’t know. A girl with your fabulous hair would be fun, but I’ve always wanted a little boy.” 

“Me too,” he can’t stop smiling, he’s oddly overjoyed with this news. “I’m going to drop out and take the GED test and I’ll see if Wayne can put in a good word with me at the plant.”

“Not so fast,” she laughs at his eagerness. “I haven’t even seen a doctor yet, don’t do anything before it’s real.”

“You don’t think you’ll lose it, do you?” 

She shrugs, truly unsure. “I don’t even know how pregnant I am or when my last period was?” 

“It was a while back,” he recalls, “I remember it was a bad one and you left work early and I brought home some ice cream for you.”

“That was like 3 months ago,” she remembers now. “How have I not noticed?”

“We’ve been having a lot of fun,” he teases, “I’m just surprised you’re not sick?” 

“I know,” she whispers. “Don’t jinx it. I’m perfectly happy just being tired and emotional.”

“I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me,” he adds in a moment of sincerity. “You could have 8 babies and I’d still be here, working my ass off to be a good dad for them.” 

“You’re going to be such a cool dad,” she feels the emotions trickle in again. “You’ll teach them how to play guitar and I’m sure you’ll be great at dress-up and make-believe. This is where you’re going to shine, Munson.” 

His chest fills with pride and all he can do is pull her into a big hug, holding her just enough to convey how he felt without hurting her or the little one. “I’m so fucking happy, babe. I didn’t know I could feel like this?” 

She laughs through her tears, holding him back just as tight, “love is crazy.”

When she pulls back he looks down at her tummy, “I don’t want to be weird, but can I see it?” 

She nods and pulls up her shirt so he can see the stomach he loves so much had changed just a bit. Rounder, firmer, there was definitely someone growing inside of her and it filled him with excitement. 

He rests his hands on her lower back and lets her lean back so he can move in and press a kiss right under her belly button, “I love you, little dude.” 

“It’s official, I want a boy,” she teases, “we need more men like you in the world.” 

“You think?” He pulls her in close again, never wanting to let her go. 

She nods. “I know.” 

Eddie Munson taglist:

@fightingdragonswithwho @venomsvl @mrs-dr-reid @nomajdetective @reidselle

[zkyfall]

Trans Arcane Week - Day 2: Family

A late submission for Day 2 and a preview of day 3: self-expression:

Silco’s always supported Jinx expressing herself. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she wanted to return the favor.

----

“One layer is enough right?” Jinx asks from her perch on the couch, boots and socks off and toes splayed wide so the freshly-multicolored nails don’t touch.

“No.” Silco answers from his permanent post at his desk, not looking up from a shipping manifest. “Let the base set, then build up, layer by layer.”

“Layers? What am I, a cake? How many? Two?”

“With a sealant on top, to preserve it.”

Jinx groans and kicks her feet into the air. 

“Patience, child. These things take time.”

“I’ve been patient. Ugh, I need to create a formula that dries faster.” Jinx jumps to her feet and wobbles across the office to throw herself across the desk in an exaggerated swoon.  “This is the WORST. I’m so BORED.  Let me paint yours.”

Silco signs a looping ‘S’ on a dotted line. “No.”

Jinx grabs his hand anyways. He smoothly transitions his pen to the left hand and keeps working (the showoff). She nibbles her thumb and rubs at his fingers with her other hand, admiring the sheen of his nail bed.  “Wow, you have really nice nails.”

“Because I don’t chew them.”

Jinx scowls and retracts the digit from her mouth. "GOOD. Then the nail polish will last longer."

A few seconds later, a colorful assortment of pilfered nail polishes are strewn across Silco’s desk. The full gamut of neons, pastels, and even some boring ones thrown in for CONTRAST. 

“Hmm, what to pick, what to pick.” Jinx examines each bottle in turn: winners get a comfy spot on top of a pile of receipts while losers get chucked in the general direction of the couch. The temptation to pick pink or lime is almost overpowering but Jinx tamps it down. She’d have to ease her dad into those. Better to start with something he’d be only a little uncomfortable with, something already in his existing palette maybe–

“Ooooo, this one! Black. Bold. Fits the whole vampire goth thing you got going on.”

Silco lips quirk up at that. “Good guess.”

“What?”

“That was my preference, a long time ago. When I was around your age.” When Silco talks about the past, he either overflows with zealous passion (which means its BIG speech time ugh) or sinks into a wistful nostalgia. This time, Silco’s face softens. “Black or blue. It did look good.”

“Oooh, were you exploring the joys of adulthood? Finding yourself through creative self-expression?” Jinx rolls her eyes and gesturing at his stuffy attire. “Shame it didn’t pan out” 

Silco sighs and leans back into his chair, carding fingers through his hair though it was already perfectly styled. “I put that part of myself away.”

Jinx furrows her brow, she’s been hoping he’d rise to her bait, not get…sad or whatever. “Like…you didn’t like it?”

Silco hums. “Not quite. It simply didn’t serve me.”

“Serve you? What happened to ‘wear what makes you happy, Jinx’?”

“Nothing. You should wear what makes you happy.” Silco leans forward and levels a steady gaze on his ward. “And I wear what gets me results.”

“Oh no,” Jinx groans, “I feel a lecture coming on and I’ve already hit my lecture quota for this week sooo–”

“I had to become what they fear, Child. That took some forms of self-expression off the table.”

“Hahahah, so that”–Jinx waves at his chest–“is what people are afraid of? Fancy vests with gold trim?”

Silco huffs a laugh. “Oddly enough, yes. People are strange. The structure, the materials, it sends a message.”

----

I WILL FINISH THIS, I SWEAR @arcanefandomweek

[erodasfishtacos]

could u please do like a harry x youtuber/influencer!reader and like lots of fluff🥺

Hi bubbie! Here you go :)))

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Language

Harry was panicking. His mum and sister were going to be here in less than two hours and he’s burnt the eggplant parmigiana he had worked tediously on. 

He grabbed what he had left in his fridge - ground beef, shredded cheddar cheese, and a little bit of bacon. 

It was the type of foods he usually strayed away from so sometimes when his shopper would bring this stuff home - he’d avoid it and admittedly sometimes it would go bad sitting in the fridge.

The singer pulls up YouTube onto his phone - hoping something would come up when he typed in the ingredients on the search bar.

He clicks on the first video by cookingwithnofucks. A chuckle at the name as an advertisement plays.

A cute, bubbly girl appears on screen in a beautiful modern kitchen. She has a shirt on that says ‘fuck the patriarchy and eat pizza’. A high ponytail and minimal makeup.

“Okay - today we’re making a cheeseburger casserole,” the girl chirps, “It’s a heart attack in a dish but it’s so fucking good.”

Harry finds himself smiling as he crinkles his nose - it sounds absolutely disgusting but he’s intrigued more by the girl on the screen.

“Shit, I forgot to introduce myself. Hiii, if you’re new - I’m Y/N and I do cooking shit. Subscribe to my channel and all that jazz,” she titters while cutting open her beef package.

Harry follows along step-by-step, shaking his head as she doesn’t describe the instructions nearly well enough and is generally all over the place.

It’s a fucking cooking channel and at one point the meat starts burning. She just laughs and says, “s’just a little crispy!” 

The casserole turns out looking even better than Y/N’s to be honest. It’s done in just the right amount of time for him to shower before his family arrives.

He makes sure to subscribe to her channel - eyebrows raising when he sees that she has 16 million subscribers.

Harry wanted to spend longer, looking at her social media but there was a fixed time so he locked his phone and went to get ready.

**

Anne - always the sweetheart just tells Harry that the casserole is delicious even as a bit of grease runs down her fork from the fatty meats.

Gemma wasn’t as kind, grimacing at the casserole and remarking, “You truly are turning into an American, huh?”

**

Laying in bed that night, Harry swipes back onto YouTube. Going back to the page he just subscribed to - under a pseudonym. He clicks on another video.

“Uh, okay. So I’m cooking...fuck, it’s called unicorn bark. It looks like a magical animal puke but it looks delicious so we’re going to try it.”

Harry realizes he’s been watching this girl cook for nearly an hour. Different videos from desserts to dinners.

She curses like a sailor, fucks up almost every recipe, and makes a mess everywhere. But she’s smiling and talkative which makes him quite memorized by her.

**

“I hate editing,” Y/N groans, letting her head fall dramatically against the desktop. Her best friend and dog looked at her oddly.

“I keep saying you need to hire someone, you stubborn bitch,” Laney retorts, clicking through her Instagram feed.

“Fuck off,” she tells her friend with no real heat. The video was almost fully edited - how to make spicy as fuck jalapeño poppers.

There is a calm silence for a while until Laney gasps, “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Y/N asks, not really caring as she clicks her mouse to trim a segment.

“Harry fucking Styles just followed you on Instagram and Twitter!” Laney shouts, her dog - Rufus popping his head up in confusion.

Y/N looks at her friend to see if she’s really serious and sees no signs of deception. “Oh my god,” Y/N replies. She loved Harry Styles in One Direction and as a solo artist - a fangirl if you will.

Y/N was a well-known influencer and has run in the circles of many celebrities. She’s even met Liam Payne but she’s never been able to bump into Harry.

Her alerts tell her it to be true, she swallows as she looks back up at Laney, “He dm’ed me.”

“Open it! What did he say?” She squeals, squeezing herself on the chair next to her, peering over her shoulder at the phone.

Y/N is a bit nervous, trying not to have a mini aneurysm as she opens the message thread.

HarryStyles: Hello. Just wanted to let you know that your cheeseburger casserole recipe saved my ass last night. Cheers x

“He’s totally coming onto you,” Her friend states instantly, bouncing excitedly - she also had a bit of a crush on the singer.

It takes the two of them a minute to cool their shit before Y/N manages a reply.

Y/N/LN: Well I guess it’s only fair. Your songs have made a few of my nights much better. I’m a bit of a slut for Fine Line.

Harry laughs behind his screen at the cheeky reply he gets back. He’s usually never this forward - especially on social media where he likes to fly under the radar.

HarryStyles: Well if you fancy my music that much, I totally love for you to come to a show. I’m performing in New York City in two weeks.

“This has to be a joke, right?” Y/N sputters to her friend, eyes wide at the invite to a concert she already had tickets to.

Y/N/LN: I’m not going to lie, I already have tickets to the show. However, I don’t have any backstage passes to meet the man of the hour. Do you know someone who can hook me up?

It does wonders for Harry’s narcissism to know that she already had tickets for his concert. Was he really going to do this? He hasn’t met up with some like this since his One Direction days.

He had to remind himself - she may just be friendly and take this as a totally casual interaction. Which would be normal, Harry really shouldn’t be so infatuated with someone he’s watched cook on social media.

HarryStyles: I think I can arrange that. Shoot me your number? I’ll have them sent digitally to you with instructions on how to get backstage.

Y/N is a bit dumbfounded at how fast they agreed to meet up. A harmless backstage tour - he could just be a fan of hers and totally not interested, right?

**

Over the next few weeks, they never really stop texting. Harry sends her pictures of the recipes he copies off her channel - that usually always look better than the original. He sends her clips of him goofing around during tour rehearsal. FaceTimes her when he’s finally home for the night.  

She sends him videos of her watching Harry Styles Best Moment Part Five. A few photos she snaps throughout the city of him on billboards and buildings, in Times Square. YN facetimes him when she’s frustrated with filming or watched a sad movie.

It didn’t make sense to either of them how seamlessly they’d clicked - especially without meeting. They were a perfect balance for each other. Harry - laidback, organized, level-headed. Y/N - eccentric, all over the place, adventurous. 

Jeff had told him that he’s been gaining media attention from his social media interactions with Y/N. They like each other’s photos, begin following each other’s friends, and comment goofy things on their posts.

“Listen, I have a great idea,” Y/N begins - which Harry learned is never good. “You should film a video with me sometime.”

Y/N knew she was going out on a limb and instantly regretted the questions she’d been building the courage to ask for days when it’s quiet on his end. There’s static for a moment and Y/N needs to fill the silence.

“It was - I was just, uh, I know you’re probably too busy. I was -“ She stutters, embarrassment flooding her.

Harry cuts her off, “I’d love to.”

“Yo-you would?” She asks timidly. Was she really going to have Harry Styles in her apartment? If so, should she take down her poster?

He laughs sweetly, “Why do you sound so surprised? I can’t wait to come to New York, love.”

Y/N giggles, “Not the fact that you’re performing in front of a sold out crowd at MSG? I don’t think seeing me will top that.”

“I’ve been looking forward to meetin’ you in person since I came across your channel. You so lovely,” Harry replies, his voice a little softer but more serious.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N admits, picking at a thread in her jeans.

“Me too,” Harry murmurs, despite not wanting to admit it - he wanted her to know this was new territory for both of them. He didn’t want her to think that this was something that he did often. But a little too prideful to admit it’s the first time he’s ever done something quite like this.

“What if you don’t like me?” Y/N whispers, she...well she didn’t compare to the models he’s been seen with before. She’s regretfully fell into the rabbit hole of looking up his past flings and relationships.

Harry barks out a disbelieving laugh, “You can’t be serious, darling. I’ve been gone for you since I saw you burn that ground beef.”

**

Harry was having a bad day - scratch that. An awful one. He tried to go get coffee at eight in the morning and got bombarded by fans, he left the shop without even ordering. They followed him back to his car and it took him fifteen minutes to pull out.

His favorite Mickey Mouse Gucci suitcase he was bringing along on tour had busted. The zipper unraveling and the trim falling off as a result. It was a one-of-a-kind.

Then he’d been stuck on a Skype meeting about tour merchandise with a group of business partners for the last three hours - all he wanted was a fucking nap.

When Y/N’s contact vibrated across his screen, he’s itching to answer but declines as he needs to give these people his attention.

When she calls again, Harry feels a prickle of annoyance. It’s not even at her - to be quite honest. It’s just the shitty day and everything’s piling up.

He always got like this before he kicked off a tour - stress level maxed out and his ability to handle minor incidents nearly shot.

I’m busy

Okay! Sorry, just have a super exciting surprise for you, bub! 

I really do not feeling like talking. I’d rather be left alone.

Oh, alright. Hope everything’s okay! Do you still want to facetime later?

Harry leaves her on read because he doesn’t want to slip up and take out his frustration on her. He’d been known to do that and he didn’t want her to think he was anything but besotted with her.

**

Y/N feels a little hesitant as she begins the uploading process to her channel. The red loading bar told her it’d be twenty-minutes before it’s going to be posted to her 16 million subscribers - one of them being Harry himself. 

Twenty-minutes for her to back out and cancel the upload. She starts having doubts about it when Harry never replies to her text which is unlike him. 

She takes Rufus out to avoid staring at the loading screen with unnecessary anxiety and uneasiness.

**

Harry is just getting home from a business dinner with the touring company’s management team. The tension and anxiety from today piling up on his shoulders and he just wants to call Y/N and crash in bed. 

He tosses his keys in the little bowl in the entry and kicks off his dingy white vans to the side. His phone dings with an alert from Gemma.

You two are the literal cutest ever. It’s quite gross.

Harry slides onto a stool in his kitchen, confused by the text message before she’s sending the link to him.

Fine Line Inspired Cupcakes!

Harry isn’t quite sure why his heart starts pounding furiously in his chest. A sinking feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this was probably the surprise she was excited about.

He clicks on the thumbnail.

“Hiiii, it’s Y/N. Okay, well today we are going to bake some Fine Line inspired cupcakes. And if you haven’t listened to the album - get your ass out from rock you’re living under and stream it on Spotify!”

She has her hair down in long, waves and a loose cropped shirt that says TPWK in rainbow embroidery.

Harrys mouth is dry and he can’t take his fucking eyes away from the screen. 

“Soo, I was thinking the first batch would be cherry flavored? ‘Cause he has a song titled ‘Cherry’. Let’s start there. First - I need to find my measuring cups.”

In true Y/N fashion, she scours her kitchen - cussing and yanking stuff out of her neatly organized cabinets before huffing and storming off to the side.

She comes back into view, a little frazzled but smiling when she holds up the ring of plastic measuring spoons, visible bite marks notched into the material.

“My asshole of a dog had a little snack,” Y/N shows the camera before shrugging, “Let’s get this shit started. Okay, you’re going to need one cup of sugar - no wait, two? I can’t read my fucking handwriting.”

Harry’s absolutely enamored by this scatter-brained, giggly girl who manages to produce cute blue and pink cupcakes that very vaguely resembled his album cover. His heart felt a million times too big for his chest.

He was enraptured for the entirety of the thirty minute video without taking his eyes away once.

To be honest, he hadn’t felt this way since his last relationship which was over a year ago at this point.

It’s not even a thought as he’s requesting a FaceTime with Y/N. 

She answers after a few rings. She has a green face mask painted on her nose, chin, and forehead with gold eye masks under each eye. She is so fucking ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

What is even more ridiculous is how gone Harry is realizing he is for her. She was quirky, unfiltered, carefree. If he was honest - he hadn’t met a girl like that in a very long time - especially a well-known influencer.

“Hi! How was your day, grumpy?” Y/N asks brightly, making a goofy face as the mask begins to tighten and crack on her skin. Not holding the earlier conversation against him and deciding to just move forward. She understood how stressful it can be.

“M’sorry. I was a bit grumpy,” He admits, “I loved your new video, darling. Did you make those just f’me?”

He can tell she’d be blushing if her face wasn’t covered, a bit bashful as she mutters, “You already know I did it for you.”

“You’re too sweet to me, only six days until we meet,” Harry replies, voice taking on a slow, lazy drawl. 

“Six days,” Y/N repeats, eyes crinkling as she smiles with excitement.

**

“Is this outfit too much?” Y/N panics. Even though there’s literally nothing she can do about it - they’re already walking towards the backstage entrance of the massive arena. It’s still about two hours until the show starts but Harry requested her to come earlier.

Laney sighs, “For the millionth time, you look fucking sexy and Harry’s going to want to rail you right when he sees you.”

Y/N shoves her lightly with a faux annoyance as they meet up with a burly man who’s blocking the entrance to the backstage hallway and rooms.

She gives him their names and pulls up the passes on her phone before he’s nodding with any expression and letting them pass.

They’re not quite sure where to go from here so they begin to wander down the long hallway toward what looks to be the main area that people are milling about.

Y/N is nearly on the ground when someone rounds the corner without looking and walks right into her. Both of them let out huffs of air as they collide and attempt to stabilize themselves.

But there are large hands grasping her arms and holding her steady. In typical Y/N fashion she’s already cursing, “fuckin like a brick wall, look out next time.”

Then she’s looking up to Harry staring back down at her with an amused expression. He doesn’t let go of her and instead tugs her against his bare chest. He’s warm and a bit sweaty - like he’d just worked out. He was only in a pair of thin, running shorts, nike tennis shoes, and a little clip holding his hair off of his face.

Y/N can’t help but wrap her arms around his waist, returning the embrace and amazed by how right it feels to be in his arms. Her face tucks right against his collarbone and it’s like they’d known each other for years.

Pictures and videos don’t do this man justice. He’s gorgeous - sharp edges and dark inked skin. Tall and muscular but dimples that are carved in his cheeks. 

“Nice to meet you, m’Harry,” Harry rumbles, removing one hand from Y/N’s shoulder to reach out his hand to her friend.

Laney shakes his hand before asking, “Laney. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be. Where’s the food?”

Harry chuckles against Y/N’s wavy hair, “Down the hall to the left.”

Laney’s trailing off without another glance, she was very food motivated despite her skinny frame. Also not wanting to intrude of the very personal first moments of their meeting.

The popstar pulls back to look down at the girl he’s fallen for in mere weeks. She’s as beautiful as he thought she'd be - if not more. He can’t help himself, “Would it be too forward to kiss you?”

Y/N smiles widely, running a hand along his jawline, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me since you stayed up on FaceTime with me until two in the morning as I cried after watching The Notebook - despite me seeing it a million times.”

Harry ducks forward to press his lips softly to her, large hands come to cup the side of her face as they connect. He’s so gentle as he moves his mouth against hers. In true Y/N fashion, she’s bold and has no hesitation slipping her tongue into his mouth.

He’s so fucking in love with her. It doesn’t make much sense - it’s definitely not logical but he’s realizing that’s okay.

“Oii, get a room!” Someone shouts from down the hallway teasingly.

Harry flips them the middle finger and pulls back, pink lips swollen and puffy, dimples on full display, “Let me take you out to dinner after the show, darling.”

“You going to wine and dine me, Styles?” Y/N giggles, unable to contain the pleasant warmness he’s spreading through her body. 

“Mmm, have t’make sure you’ll want to keep me,” Harry murmurs happily against her lips once again, pressing kiss after kiss to her to make sure she’s real, “Definitely want to keep you.”

Y/N bites teasingly at his bottom lip, hand planted on the soft but firm skin of his stomach, “You’re never getting rid of me, hope you know that.”

“Was hoping you’d say that, now let me introduce you to my band.”

                                  -- ---- ---- -- 1 year later - -- --- --- --

“Hi bitches! Today is a super special day. We have the one, the only Harry Styles filming with us. I know that’s not really that special since he’s on here all the time with me. But we’re celebrating our one year anniversary!” Y/N smiles, bumping hips with Harry who stands dutifully next to her. 

Anyone viewing can see the absolute heart-eyes and adoration he has for the girl standing next to him. He’s still as lovestruck and gone for her as he was the first time they met. Harry’s fans were thrilled - for the first time in years, he’d opened up again.

They weren’t very public on social media beside’s tagging each other in memes and posting the occasional picture. Y/N was constantly uploading cooking videos from wherever in the world she was with Harry on his tour, she’d also begin making vlogs about different foods she’s been experiencing.

---

“Okay, so here in Peru - they’re known to have this really fucking spicy beef with noddles. So obviously, I’m going to make Harry try it first,” Y/N laughs as she props the camera up on the side of the table on a napkin holder.

Harry - who has a concert in a few hours - frowns at the steaming dish in front of him, “Darling, I don’t want to try it first. It’s going to burn my mouth. Not gonna be able to sing.”

“You’re sucha baby sometimes,” Y/N rolls her eyes, slurping up the noodles with her fork while making a silly face at her boyfriend. She pulls back, straight-faced, “It’s not hot at all. Tastes amazing, though.”

Harry takes that as an initiative to shovel a spoonful into his mouth. It only takes half a moment until his taste buds erupt in fiery flames from the spices, “You bloody little brat, y’tricked me! It’s so fuckin’ hot!”

Y/N smiles widely, laughing much too loudly in the restaurant when Harry chugs the glass of water next to the plate while glaring at his love. “I’m sorry, s’just to easy with you, lovie,” She replies, leaning over the table to press a kiss to his lips. 

He’s a sucker for her and kisses her right back despite his mouth being an inferno. His heart was on fire for her and that burned much more intensely.

---

“No, love. The instructions say baking soda, not baking powder. They’re not the same thing,” Harry sighs, attempting to read her scribbled, sloppy handwriting. She’d already spilled milk on half of the paper.

“S’interchangeable, right?” Y/N hums, cracking an egg into the bowl and Harry automatically knows to look to fish out the eggshells that’d she’d let slip in because she sucks at cracking eggs but always wants to do it.

Harry reaches over her, grabbing the vanilla extract and a teaspoon, “It’s not, baby. Lemme do this real quick.”

“Will you make me a grilled cheese after this?” She asks, nuzzling into his side and wrapping her arms around his waist as he finishes adding the wet ingredients to their bowl. Harry stopped questioning her thought process a long time ago.

Harry swipes his finger into the mixture of icing off to the side and rubs it right onto her nose, cackling at her pout and squeaking when she pinches at the fleshy skin of his hips. She in turn dips her finger into the sugary cream and pops it right into her mouth.

Harry eyes darken, watching her lips purse as she sucks off the icing. It was a dirty move on Y/N’s part and she knows it. It has her boyfriend dragging an icing-covered thumb along her collarbone before leaning down to slowly lick up the sugary trail with his tongue.

When Y/N slides her fingers into his hair and lets out a pretty moan, Harry’s standing back up, trailing over to the tripod and saying into the camera, “We’ll be back after a little commercial break,” and is then turning off the record button.

It takes little to no time for Harry to have Y/N’s bum on the countertop, mouth on her neck, and hand in-between her thighs.

And when they finally posted a very edited final cut of the video - well there may be a couple of fans who notice the how flushed Y/N is halfway through and a lovely purple mark on Harry’s neck that wasn’t there in the beginning of the video.

[pa1nkill3r]

"Now How Come I've Only Found Out About This Now?" [G.W]

[Pairing:] George Weasley x Fem!Artist!Reader

[Summary:] So far, George Weasley knows three things about his new potions partner; So why not make it four? Or five?

[Warnings:] use of mudblood, a bit of angst, a bit of swearing, a pov change at some point in the end, idk-- fluff?? (is that a warning??)

[Word Count:] ≈2.7k

[A/N:] i used @buckystrenchcoat 's fluff plots for george weasley: 2. George finding out you can draw (kind of got carried away but oh well :D--) (ps just imagine that classes in hogwarts includes all of the houses together, thanks <3) Y/H = your house. (dk the timeline or what year george and the reader are in but i'd say between 3rd-5th year)

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The Weasley twins were becoming reckless and apparently, Professor Snape has had enough. The constant explosions on the other side of the dungeon and the numerous attempts at drowning his hair with shampoo has eventually led him to the decision of assigning the entire class their partners.

Thus halfway into the semester, the Weasley twins are never to be seen together again... that is until the end of 2nd period where they will go back and cause mischief elsewhere.

Fred was assigned to a Slytherin girl who George couldn't figure out if she's madly in love with his brother or wants to rip out his guts. While he on the other hand was assigned with Y/N. Truthfully, he never gave much thought to her, but after their first double potions lesson as partners, he began to wonder why he never gave much thought to her.

She was smart but never overbearing, made jokes here and there, sniggered when he made even the cheesiest of puns, and is wicked attractive. Their first task was to brew a calming draught and whilst adding in a smidge more of lavender, she proposed that they should make more while the majority of the class was still struggling.

"Why in Merlin's beard are we going to make more? We can just pass this and leave class early?" He asked, bringing a smile to her lips. "Yeah, yeah, that's what you want, don't you Weasley?" She quipped, looking back up to the red-headed boy who's now readying their vials.

"Just thought that we could make some for people, like, your brother. Poor guy, reckon he's going to rip his hair out getting partnered with Tuttle." And with that, George let out a laugh, a laugh that cost Gryffindor 5 points. Though, all was well when they were the first to finish and send their little vial of calming draught into the hands of Severus Snape, garnering 5 points each and an opportunity to leave class 10 minutes early.

And that was it, that was their relationship; potions partners.

George Weasley learned 2 things that day. One, his potions partner was someone he wanted to know more, to be with more, and two, one should never put a liberal amount of peppermint in a calming draught. (Fred learned that the hard way.)

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She was the epitome of beauty and brains. So far, that's what he knew about his potions partner. But a little incident in the corridor made two into three.

It wasn't unusual for Fred and George Weasley to skip class, especially if the class was History of Magic. And it also wasn't unusual for them to hide behind a tapestry whilst a stinky dungbomb was set in the first-floor corridor.

What was unusual though, was George not wanting to move from their hiding place, forcing Fred to also not move. "George, mate, wha-?" "SHH!"

Whatever Fred's question was supposed to be, it quickly got answered by the presence of a certain someone whose walking to the Muggle Studies classroom, his brother's potions partner perhaps? Fred grinned mischievously, nudging his brother in the abdomen, and earning a wince.

"Oi mudblood! Was that you?" They heard from a distance, heavy footsteps following the girl he's teasing his brother with. From their point of view, they could tell that the girl stopped in her tracks, sighing heavily as though this was a regular thing.

"Was that me, what?" She asked, clearly annoyed. "Was that you who did it? Or d'you just shat yourself? It smells horrid. Would make sense, as you're a filthy little mudblood."

George's blood was beginning to boil, fingers formed into a fist, knuckles white. Especially when they got to see the silhouette of the two arguing. Perfect, Winnifred Tuttle, his brother's potions partner bullying his Y/N Y/L/N. He had an urge to protect her. To avenge her. To show her how much he cared for someone who's supposed to be his potions partner.

"Was that supposed to be an insult, Tutts?" Y/N spat back, pulling George out of his trance and making Fred shut his mouth. Now he's the one staring intently. "It's honestly just sad. A 'pureblood' like you should know the difference between a dungbomb and a piece of shit. Or perhaps you're probably just that daft?"

The boys were fixated on their conversation now. A hand on their mouths, hopefully covering up their shock even if they're hiding behind a tapestry. George's heart was beating faster now.

"Me? Daft? Well, if I'm daft then why are you taking muggle studies?" Tuttle sneered, an ugly grin splattered across her face.

"Bit hypocritical, isn't it, Winnie? Bye-bye!" She turned her back away from the Slytherin now, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom, holding a few books in one hand and her middle finger in the other.

He knows three things about her now; She's bewitching, she's a whizz, and she's a muggle-born who doesn't take shit.

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A few more lessons in and one could say that Y/N and George are starting to become friendlier to each other. Acquaintances, sure, but, friendly nonetheless. But the Gryffindor wanted to live up to its name, to its values. He might've just gotten to know a bit about her but he was completely and utterly entranced.

Nothing's going to stop him now.

His right hand held his wand as he stirred the concoction in the cauldron. She, on the other hand, was cutting up the stewed mandrake. The easy silence between them was broken by none other than the lion himself.

"Hey," he called, lifting his gaze from the potion to the girl right next to him. "Hi." She said back.

"So... Today's a Friday, right?"

She looked at him, confused, recounting a particular time in which she looked at a calendar today. "Yeah, I think so."

"And we can go to Hogsmeade after classes?"

"Pretty sure you can, why?"

"Want to go on a date?"

She looked stunned which kind of hurt George's ego but as soon as the slightly parted mouth of hers became a cheerful grin, he felt a whole lot better.

"As long as you stop staring at me and not over mix our potion, then sure, I'll go out with you." She smiled, making George give a shy little grin back before attempting to put all his concentration on the brew. Mind boggled on the way she said 'our potion.'

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Going to Muggle Studies felt utterly useless now that Y/N's been promised to go on a date right after. But having George by her side, walking her to the class just seemed to be the best part of the day.

He recounted the time when he and Fred hid behind a tapestry and told Y/N all about it, giving a hot feeling to her cheeks. They stopped by the door frame of the classroom, Professor Burbage was waiting inside, pacing around her study as George's hand slyly held Y/N's.

"I'll pick you up later?" He asked with the same shy smirk plastered on his face, cheeks pink and ears flushed. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me here. You shouldn't have." She uttered, heels rising and falling as she bounced on her toes.

"Just making sure that Tuttsy's not going to ruin your day, love." Y/N felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears, as well as an uncontrollable grin. Her heel turned to make her face the concrete walls of the castle, hands covering their face and body slightly swaying from side to side. It was ridiculous, really. Dumb. Very.

"You're adorable when you're flustered."

"Shut up, Weasley." And with that, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving him slightly startled, stunned, and very red in the face. "You're adorable when you're flustered." She quipped, walking into the Muggle Studies classroom and taking her seat.

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Muggle Studies felt oddly slow that day. Usually, it lasted an hour but today it felt like a century. Professor Burbage's talk about electricity and muggle technology went in one ear and out the other.

If you'd ask why Y/N chose a subject she already knew plenty about, her answer would be that she wanted to see things from a different perspective. But truthfully, she just knew that she'd be good at it and it'd be an easy O.

So there she was; A scrap piece of parchment laid on the wooden desk and a pen since Professor Burbage discouraged the use of quills.

Her mind wandered off the moment she sat down on her chair. Feet either bouncing up and down or stuck straight onto the floor, she wouldn't know. What she did remember was her non-dominant hand posing itself as the other one scribbled on the piece parchment.

Her fingers played with the hazy light and the ink added depth. Soon she started sketching other things; The student in front of her, a study of Professor Burbage, a head with a moderately strong jaw and beautiful, short, messy hair. A male side profile with a big nose that has a slight bump on its bridge matching a cheeky grin with dimples. Her hand posed itself once more but this time she wasn't making it look like hers, she was making it look like his. Something she's seen many times before, and guiltily stared at once, twice, more than she could recount.

She was adding in the cluster of freckles when the worst happened; "Miss Y/L/N, still with us?" Professor Burbage stood at the front of the class, standing straight, clearly thinking about her posture. "Miss Y/L/N?"

She felt an elbow nudge her arm, and that was the thing that brought her back into reality. Her head whipped itself to face her seatmate then to her Professor, giving her a funny-looking nervous grin.

"Charm would get you nowhere, Miss Y/L/N. When was the first electricity generator introduced in Britain? And where was it installed?" She has to have something in that brain of hers. It must've been taught sometime when she was in muggle school. "Err-- 1900s something, Surrey--?"

Professor Burbage meekly chuckled, "Nice try. 1881. Godalming, Surrey. A point from Y/H then, I'm sorry."

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George was faithful and stuck to his word. Even being 5 minutes early after asking Professor Grubbly-Plank if he could go to the bathroom and have a wee, saying that the unicorns would definitely mind if he pissed on their trees.

He did not go to the bathroom but instead went straight to the Muggle Studies classroom. Leaning the side of his body onto the wall by the door. Trying his best to peer into the room and find his potions partner and soon to be his date and maybe even his. But he was getting ahead of himself.

The bell rang and he heard a loud shuffling sound of chairs being pulled back. The door was opened as students from all of the houses started pouring out and there she was. Looking beautiful as ever with her bag slung on her shoulder.

"Glad to see you're alright there, dove." He cooed, earning once again another shy smile. "Anything happened there?" He asked, pointing to the now open classroom.

"Felt way longer than usual, and I lost a house point." She said matter of factly. George chuckled, his heart filled with pride as he turned his head towards her.

"And what have you done to lose said house point?"

She smiled before reaching her hand into a pocket of her robes, pulling out a folded piece of aged parchment before handing it to the curious redhead.

"What's this? A love letter?" He bantered. "Just open it." And so he did. His nimble fingers unfolding the parchment, then he was stunned. Seeing his face drawn in ink with lines crossing over more lines was the last thing he expected. It looked like him. And it didn't look like Fred. It is him.

"I was just drawing in class but then I sort of blanked out and got a dumb question wrong." She paused, looking back up to see if the redhead was still listening. "Hello? Earth to George?"

"You drew me?" He was on a fine line of disbelief and awe. It truly looked amazing. She drew her hand at least three times before he recognized his was also there. She even got the little freckle he had on the middle of his wrist. The full body of ol' Professor Burbage brought so much of her energy and even the way her scarf wrapped around her neck was perfect.

Her cheeks were heating up again, realizing what she just did. "It's not that good. Just-- drew what I saw and, err-- whatever came to mind, I guess." Bad execution, sloppy excuse. "Okay, you've been looking at that for way too long now--"

"This looks bloody brilliant! Now how come I've only found out about this now?"

"Flattery would get you nowhere, Weasley." She joked, but he was serious.

"S'not 'flattery' if I'm stating what's true! It's amazing, you're amazing." She felt her heartbeat increase by a mile.

"Well then, I'm flattered." She said, adjusting the strap of her bag to hopefully let out some adrenaline. "And to answer your question, it'd be terrifying if I just started drawing in Snape's class. I swear that man has eyes at the back of his head. That's why this is a new discovery for you."

"Fuck, this is amazing!" He uttered.

"It's really not that good--"

"'S'really not that good' Some shit standards you have there. I'd put this in a museum!" He said loudly, extending both his arms and imagining that the piece of parchment was displayed on the Hogwarts walls. "If you don't like it then I'll keep it." George joked, expecting disapproval, which, to his shock, never came.

"Are you actually giving this to me?"

She shrugged, "I mean if you'd like a photo of you drawn by a teenage girl then be my guest." He smiled, genuinely smiled. He looked so pretty at that moment and there shouldn't be any holding back now.

"...But," She started, his gaze looked intently at her, ready to listen to whatever comes next. "There's a price."

"Between Freddie and I, we have 26 galleons and a few sickles." He said, earning a hearty laugh and a shake of her head. "Don't really think he'd like me to give all of it to you, I'm sorry. If you want I'd pay a bit then I--"

"No, George." She said, tugging lightly on his tie to gain his attention. "How about... a kiss? Perhaps?"

He grinned. His hand hovered itself across her face before landing on her cheek, thumb gracing itself on its apples, slightly squishing the skin whilst his eyes looked for any signs of discomfort; there was none.

They slowly leaned in, eyes locked on lips before their lips locked onto each other. His lips were slightly chapped but it felt like the softest thing on Earth. He smelled of cinnamon, firewood, gunpowder, and other indescribable scents, but it was nice. It was short but meaningful, gentle, even. His other hand was wrapped around her waist and once again, his thumbs were running up and down whatever part of her body it's laid on.

He learned two more things about the girl that day; she's artistic, and she felt like home.

He never thought there'd be a time in his life where he'd be thankful for Severus Snape. But life goes in unexpected ways.

"If you'd like to tip me then I'm just going to say that I love cauldron cakes." She grinned up at him as they pulled away before settling her face in his chest. George chuckled to himself before wrapping his arms completely on her waist, placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head.

"Yeah, yeah, come on." He said, pulling away to let her shake herself up as he held onto the piece of folded parchment which graced his face, giving it a small peck before putting it in his pocket, patting it three times.

"Better sign that drawing for me, Y/N. How much does an autograph cost?"

"Double the original price—?"

"And the tip?"

"And the tip."