#anyway sorry to anyone who actually likes this game

[lennadanvers]

The Heartbreak Chronicles

 Edward The Freak Munson was your first love.

(In more than one way).

(None of them ended up well).

High school Edward was something. Jean and leather, band t-shirts and patches. The shiny chains were still there. He had picked up guitar and stuck with it, as you found out at the talent show. His hair and his opinions had grown.

And his big, sad eyes were still there.

He had a reputation now: dangerous, freaky, dark. Maybe it was true. Maybe it had always been. It was just that people took a while to realize. He was the same over dramatic, fun, imaginative boy you had lost. Except that he took his drama all the way up to the tabletops of the cafeteria now.

It was hard not to enjoy the show. It was even harder to wonder how would it be to know him again. He had so much determination and sarcasm, he was so over the way the world worked, so full of disdain and passion… As someone who had served under the Queen’s orders- even if it was a fantasy queen, years ago, in the battlefield that was kindergarten-, you wanted to be loved by him.

How would anyone not want to be worthy of his love?

You knew better, of course. He had distanced himself. And yeah, maybe it had been a long time ago, but why should you give him another chance? No, sir. You didn’t have many things, but your pride was something no one could take from you.

Besides, he had never asked for another chance.

But he was fucking everywhere. He had founded the coolest club in the whole state. His van took up half the parking lot, a lighthouse in the middle of a naked shore. His hair was impossible to miss in the hallway, and your lunches were plagued by him and his stupidly interesting speeches. He even showed up at every party, ready to supply the sheeples with the only best weed in Hawkins.

And not once, in any of those scenarios, were you the object of his attention.

You could have stayed away, of course. It was just a matter of willpower. But your curiosity was bigger. Also, the sheet to sign up for Hellfire Club ended up being taped to the wall right next to your locker. It had to be a sign, if fate could be any more literal: just sign the sign.

It was a terrible idea. Made your nerves skyrocket and your appetite disappear, and your hands were trembling more than usual. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go back if it turned out to be as awful of an experience as you feared.

It was much, much worse: your first day at Hellfire was amazing. You had actual fun- something you hadn’t had in years, if you were honest. The boys were nice in a warm way, talking over each other and, frankly, more excited about the game than you. It was great, because it didn’t make you feel like a guest, but like you belonged.

And Edward welcomed you.

After years without talking to you, without even glancing at you, he smiled and bowed, arms wide as if to show you his kingdom.

“Be welcome to our humble table, mighty lady. Be prepared to face more adventure than you’ve ever heard of, more danger than you can fear and to conquer more victories than anyone can dream.”

He acted that way with everyone. And he lied.

You had heard of that much adventure, sure as hell. Actually, some of his adventures sounded familiar- they were detailed evolutions of childhood games.

But you fell for it anyway. It was good to be back home.

Even if he stabbed you in the back every now and then.

After the first session, as everyone was tidying up, he had cocked his head at you.

“We used to play together when we were kids, didn’t we? You’re not as boring as you look.”

And he had the audacity to wink, as if it would do anything but burn. So you punched back.

“Oh… Did we? I have a pretty bad memory. Sorry.”

Cue innocent and nonchalant shoulder shrug, finished off with a tight lip smile.

The second time Edward Munson broke your heart was worse, because you saw it coming. And you still followed him, like a reflection on a dark mirror, like you had no choice but to help him shatter you.

Second part! The next one is Eddie's POV! Please comment or reblog if you like it, that really motivates me to keep writing! Also, my inbox is always open (not just for requests and ideas about fics, you can also come say hi and tell me about your day or whatever you want to talk about). If you want me to add you to the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @arabellagreenleaf , @stylesxmunson , @am0iur

[linkcharacter]

hi cool tumblr artist!!! first, I wanted to say I love it when ppl are actually critically smart and really get into the characters of a game!!! especially when they're so unique!!! I've read lots of the asks you answer on here and they're so well put and your replies are amazing 🙏🙏

second, I wanted to ask what kind of dancer you think Curly is?? I think he's either hitting moves you ain't got a clue how he's doing or he stands awkwardly in the corner with his drink in hand 💀

idk, I like to think of how the crew would be on Earth a lot, if they go to diners together after they get back home or a bar with a dance floor yk 🙏 (wait.. is that was a club is.. I forgor anyway!!)

Thanks!!!!!!! I try to be clear and actually provide something for asks which is why I answer sparingly to stuff (I'm sorry askers there's so many of you I appreciate you all tho heart emoji)

Ok, I think it depends on who Curly's with. He's a guy who doesn't open up to people easily and keeps up appearances. I imagine if he's with close friends, he will be the one to hit the floor without shame. If he's not, he will stand with his drink in hand on the side smiling and encouraging. With the crew tho think he'd be somewhere in the middle, not impressing anyone with the moves but at least he's not in the corner.

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Eighteen: Innamorati

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Seventeen ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: Presents, dueling practice, and parties, oh my!

Word Count: 8.8k

Notes: I know that drinking games are more of an american thing, but I am simply choosing to ignore this fact because they are fun and no one can tell me they aren’t 

James had made his decision and it was final. Instead of getting drunk in the RoR to celebrate his birthday, he’d go out looking for the map once again. Unwilling to hear out any arguments, you all headed back to the tower, though not without some complaints from Sirius.

In the meantime, you waited with Lily and Marlene as the others went into the common room after dinner to check if Zephyr was there. You had insisted that it was fine if he was, given that you’d have to see them all eventually, though it made little difference. Luckily, the coast was clear, allowing you all to sit by the fire and celebrate in peace.

“Does it smell like fish in the Slytherin common room?” Marlene whispered to Remus, who was sitting beside her on the sofa. 

He shrugged. “Not really, no. Why do you ask?”

“Isn’t it half under the lake?”

You laughed, even more when she turned to you in confusion, her brows furrowed. “Even if it did, I’m sure it’d be charmed to take away the smell.”

James looked up from his spot on the floor where he was playing a game of exploding snap with Peter and Sirius, his face contorted in disgust. “Even if it’s charmed, it still stinks.”

You rolled your eyes. “It could smell like roses and frankincense and you’d say it was like a pile of hot rubbish.”

“It’s hurtful you’d even suggest—”

“We’ll skip you if you don’t stop flirting,” said Sirius, his arm propped on his leg as he smiled in that evil way he seemed to save only for your torment. 

Your ears went hot, your eyes shooting over to Lily in the armchair, still engrossed in her book. She did not look up, turning a page as James said something disparaging to Sirius. He turned back around, still bickering as he flipped over his card. A pop went off, a small explosion erupting in the middle of their circle. They all jumped back, the smoke lingering in the air as they hollered. 

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

You cringed as the floorboards squeaked under your feet, the early morning sunlight a shimmering yellow where it filtered in through the diamond window panes. No one sturred in their beds, not that you could hear, anyway. You continued towards the bathroom, only half awake and wishing you were still tucked underneath your blanket. Even the day after his birthday, which should’ve been spent sleeping in after a night of fun, James wanted to practice. 

“Tomorrow, six am. If you’re not at the staircase by then, I’ll figure out a way to come up.”

“Why six? Can’t we do it at seven or—”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I have practice at eight-thirty, then I have to actually start doing some schoolwork or I’ll flunk the N.E.W.T.s. And I meant it about figuring out a way up.”

You got ready as quickly as you could, fussing far too much over the way you looked given that you were seeing a friend under entirely unromantic circumstances. Still, you couldn’t help but stare a little longer in the mirror than usual, feeling as though you needed a cold shower. 

Beating away your nerves, you brought your bag with you, James’s birthday present safe inside. This would be the only time you’d get him alone today, and the thought of giving it to him in front of the others made your stomach drop. There was something that seemed too intimate about doing it in the company of anyone else, as if it would give you away, as demure as the gesture was. It was just a birthday gift, completely ordinary. 

Just as he said, James was waiting for you at the bottom of the girl’s staircase, twirling his wand like a drummer. He had tried to teach you how to do it once, though you never got the hang of it, always sending it flying across the room. 

When he heard you coming down he smiled, raising his brows at your tired eyes. 

“It’s not that early,” he said, putting his wand back in his pocket. “I could’ve made you get up at five.”

“They call it a holiday for a reason,” you groaned, though it only made him laugh. He led you to the portrait, holding it open for you as you stepped out. “Did you have any luck last night?” you asked. 

He shook his head, his smile leaving. “No, the door was locked. We couldn’t figure out a way to break it open. I think he got Flitwick to charm it, probably thinks we’ve been rummaging around in there.”

“The one time he’s a step ahead,” you said with a bitter chuckle. 

Filch always seemed to be well aware when they were up to something, though it was rare that he was able to catch up in time. It had been dumb luck he found the map, though there was little way he’d get anything from it. As James had once explained to you, “It knows who’s safe and who isn’t. It lets you in because we like you, same with Lily and Marlene and Dorcas. If anyone else tried to crack it, they’d better be marauders at heart.”

“Isn’t Remus good with locking spells?” you asked.

“Yeah, you should try to open his trunk. The things sealed like a vault at Gringotts,” he said, his smile slowly peeking through again. “We’ll get it back, it just might take a little longer than we hoped.”

James stopped at the tapestry while you jogged down the corridor to check if anyone was coming, a routine you had quickly gotten into over the course of the week. He began to walk back and forth, glancing back at you as the door appeared. 

“Maybe we’ll try bombarda next time,” he continued, pushing it open. “I doubt they accounted for that.”

You shook your head at him, holding the strap of your bag a little tighter as you entered the RoR. You stood still for a moment, building up your courage, pulling out the small package with a deep breath. You had wrapped it in scarlet paper, a tag with James’s name carefully placed in the corner. With a sheepish smile, you handed it to him before your anxiety got the best of you. 

“Happy birthday,” you said, your heart racing as you watched him consider it. 

He lifted his face, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

You knew he was being honest, though you weren’t sure you could take a back and forth with him. You tried to smile through your nerves, motioning to the present. “Nonsense. Now, open it.”

He sighed, ripping off the paper and tossing it on the floor beside him before opening the box. The joy in his expression grew as he took out the small transistor radio, experimentally pulling up the antenna. 

“It’s a muggle one,” you explained, fidgeting as he flipped it over in his hands. “My cousin is married to a muggle, and he’s a pretty good curse breaker, so he’s also decent at overriding some advanced charms. He’s been trying to figure out a way to make a radio pick up muggle stations at Hogwarts. He tried to explain how he finally did it in his letter, but I only understood about half of it,” you laughed, biting your lip as you watched his eyes widen.

“This will pick up muggle stations?” he asked, his voice on the brink of exclamation. 

You nodded, his excitement infectious. 

He quickly turned it on, raising the volume as he flipped through the stations. After a bit, he stopped on one playing an advertisement for carpet cleaner, looking more happy than anyone in the world upon hearing a sales pitch. 

“Turn it to something good,” you laughed, moving to stand beside him as you watched the needle move along the display. 

He flipped through the stations again, stopping every once in a while when the static cleared. He settled on one playing an old song, the piano slow, the singer even slower, his smooth voice pouring from the little speaker just before the trumpet came to replace it. He was singing about love, maybe his own, but it felt like it was about yours. 

James seemed to settle into something more tranquil, though not completely without his usual energy. He set the radio down, holding out his hand and wiggling his fingers as if he had any need to entice you. 

You knew you shouldn’t, that being close to him was a surefire way to get you a flustered, nervous mess, though you didn’t care. You rolled your eyes as if that would make it better, letting your bag fall from your shoulders and onto the floor. He took your hand, pulling you closer to place his other on your back. You couldn't help but laugh, ignoring the way his shoulder felt beneath your hand, the way he swayed you back and forth, leading you where he wanted to go. He’d always been a good dancer, though you’d never danced with him like this, the way you’ve dreamt of a hundred times before. It was better than a dream, for in your dreams you hadn’t felt his warmth or seen the look on his face so vividly as he pushed you back out to spin you. 

“I take it you like your present?” you asked, desperately needing something to say. At any moment you thought your heart might explode, filled with a deep, gnawing pain. 

“You should keep it,” he said, not letting you go even as the song changed. “Your cousin gave it to you. I don’t think it’s right for me to have it.”

Your feet moved faster with the new beat, more swinging this time, upbeat and less breathy. James’s moves became sloppier, though you suspected it was on purpose. 

“It’s your birthday present, I gave it to you to keep,” you said, “I have one at home, anyway.” 

“Not one that works at school,” he argued.

“Just say thank you and keep it,” you said, watching as he paused to listen to the song.

“I like this one. Who is it?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” you said, a noise of surprise leaving you as he pushed you out again, grabbing your other hand to pull you towards him, your back against his chest. He poked his head beside yours, laughing at your reaction. You swallowed, your fear that he could feel your racing heart becoming stronger and stronger the longer he held you. “Where’d you learn to dance?” you asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“Call me a natural,” he teased, spinning you again so you could dance normally. 

You tried to act nonchalant, letting go of his hand as you took a step back. You went over to the radio, switching it off, the RoR falling back into silence. When you turned to him, he was still chuckling, an acknowledgment that you could get each other to do things that you would normally fight against tooth and nail. You wondered how much would change if he knew it was because you loved him.  

“We should get on with it,” you said, checking your watch, “we’ve wasted enough time already.”

“Ouch. Tell me how you really feel.”

You went to the other side of the room, hitting his arm as you passed him, the smell of his hair still fuzzy in your head. 

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

To prevent it getting confiscated by McGonagall, Filch, or any other Hogwarts killjoy, you and James decided to keep the radio a secret between you and the others. When James presented Sirius with it in their dormitory after quidditch practice, he told you with quite the smile that, “you would’ve thought I was showing him the philosopher’s stone.” Thus, it became the talk of the day, or rather the week, all of you lamenting the fact that Dorcas wasn’t there to share in the glory of your gift. 

However, not all was well. There was nothing you could do to avoid your villainous classmates, so you went on the best you could. Zephyr had been ostracized by the entire student body of Gryffindor due to his being a part of some scheme with the Slytherins to harm you. No one knew the details of Zephyr’s involvement, though you assumed it didn’t take much more than the scene in the common room to connect the dots, as well as his sudden increase in time he spent with the Slytherins instead of his own house. 

The memory of Mulciber’s previous attacks and general odiousness towards muggle borns, or just those who sympathized, was fresh amongst your house-mates, making Zephyr’s friendship with Mulciber more than enough to brand him a traitor. Mulciber and his gang had accepted him fully into their ranks, roaming the corridors with him by their side as if he had always been there. Since Monday, the common room grew dead quiet whenever he walked through the portrait hole, slithering back to the staircase with his eyes cast down to his feet in a useless attempt to hide himself from view.

Just as James had said, you practiced dueling every single day for the remainder of the Easter holiday. You weren’t sure where he got the time, though he always had some spared for you. On Sunday afternoon you and James headed to the RoR, savoring the last of your free time before classes began again. 

“Let’s see what you got,” James said, grinning wickedly from across the room.

You were already in your position, your feet moving on instinct as you made the first move. “Bombarda!” James leapt out of the way of the explosion, giving you another chance to attack before he’d counter. “Relashio.”

James’s wand whipped in front of him, unaffected by your spell. “Oscsusi!”

You blocked it, shaking your head at him. It was a charm to seal the opponents mouth, his way of telling you that you weren’t practicing your non verbal spells enough. 

You wordlessly cast the binding charm, the ropes momentarily winding around him before he said the counter curse, dashing like a bolt of lightning to the other side of the room. You were getting rather good at the shield charm, blocking his next spell just in time. 

You could see him moving again, so quick you could barely think. In your panic, you reverted back to your old ways of low level hexes and jinxes, “Locomotor mortis!”

Just as James’s legs buckled beneath him, he flicked his wand again. “Flipendo!”

You heard James cast Arresto Momentum as you flew backwards through the air, though he was too late. You landed hard on the floor, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your ears buzzed, the sound of him shouting your name muffled by the high pitched ringing. Pain radiated from the back of your skull as you tried to sit up, the initial shock fading as you remembered this was meant to be a duel. You attempted to look around for your wand, though you were soon distracted by James running towards you. He threw himself onto the ground, his hand coming to cradle your head as the other arm wrapped around your back. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, the words pouring from him in a frenzy. “Godric, I didn’t mean to, I tried to stop you—”

“It’s okay,” you croaked, the cobwebs beginning to clear. 

You rubbed your aching temple, James’s face no longer blurry in your vision. His brows were pinched, his mouth ajar as his eyes darted down over your figure, searching for injuries. 

“What hurts?” he asked in the same manner. “I’ll take you to Poppy—”

“I just got turned around, s’all,” you began, moving to stand. “I’ll be fine in a second.”

He gently held your shoulder down, not allowing you to get up. Before you could protest, both his hands came to the side of your face, leaning in closer to peer into your eyes. You held your breath, frozen as you saw your reflection in his glasses. 

“Look at me,” he said softly, maneuvering your face towards him. His eyes continued to stare into yours, looking for what, you did not know. 

“What’re you doing?” you asked, barely able to bring yourself to speak. You hoped he didn’t feel the warmth of your cheeks, blazing as he touched you. 

“Checking your pupils,” he answered with a frown. “They’re huge, you might have a concussion. I’m taking you to the Hospital Wing.” 

“They’re just like that sometimes. They’ll be normal in a minute,” you said, pushing his hands away. You were weak, though he allowed you to remove them, still in a state of anxiety.  

“I’ll wait five minutes,” he said firmly, “and if they’re not back to normal by then, we’re going.”

You buried your face in your hands, rubbing your eyes. “What will we say happened?”

“You could have a concussion and you’re worried that Poppy might catch onto us?”

You placed your hands onto the ground, swaying a bit as the pain continued to throb. “You’ve never been nervous enough.”

He paused, watching you so intently you were convinced your pupils would never return to normal, nor would your heart. You looked down to escape his gaze, though you could still feel it, heavy like lead. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said again, ignoring your earlier implication. 

Your name on his lips was a welcomed sound, even if it meant you had to get thrown to the floor. Your eyes drifted back to his, though you knew it was a mistake, his expression so full of dread it made you question if you had blood pouring from your nose. You rubbed it just to make sure, though your sleeve came back clean. 

“It’s really all right,” you began, “I just wasn’t quick enough. Call it good practice.”

“You’re mad,” he sighed, his hand coming up to touch your shoulder, stopping just short. “What hurts?”

“Just my head,” you answered, not knowing if you were dizzy from the fall or from his face, perfect right in front of you. 

He touched your shoulder, warm even through your shirt. You felt his fingers flexing as they held you, making you feel as if you might faint at any second. After just a few moments it was too much, the realization that you were alone more frightening than it ought to have been. You had thought you were better than this, that you had things under control, though now you were worse than ever before. 

“I’m feeling better all ready,” you said, hoping, praying he’d take his hand off of you. 

James was unconvinced, his mouth still tight. “What’s thirteen times nine?”

You groaned, “I’ve always been bad at arithmetic.” When he gave you another serious look you rolled your eyes, taking a deep breath as you thought. “A hundred seventeen”

He seemed pleased, at least for the time being, taking his hand from your shoulder so you could stand. You relished in the distance, though what you really wanted was some fresh air, crisp in your lungs. The pain was lessening, the throbbing mostly gone. James held your arm as you steadied yourself, letting it go as you thanked him softly. He didn’t chastise you for saying it, another act of mercy. 

“Let me check,” he said, forcing his face in front of yours. 

Perhaps to repay him, you didn’t fight, letting him look into your eyes. 

“You’ll be all right,” he said, stepping away. “No concussion for you.”

“Maybe next time,” you joked in a feeble attempt to lighten the dull mood that had settled around each of you. 

He didn’t laugh, going over to pick up your wand which had rolled away.

“I’ll give you a day off,” he said, finally smiling a bit as he handed it to you, “but we’re back here on Wednesday after classes.”

You swallowed down something, whether it was pride or fear you did not know, allowing your gaze to be selfish. James’s sleeves were pushed up, a lovely, cherished sight. You found yourself settling on his hands, always busy, tapping on desks, fiddling with his wand, brushing through his hair. You drifted over to his lips, barely curled upwards, just for you. Did the fondness in his expression, the tender way his hands touched you mean what the cards seemed to point to, what Marlene had been telling you? Was Remus right? 

“C’mon, let’s go back,” he said, opening the door for you. You followed, walking with him down the empty corridor towards the common room.

“Thank you again— for helping me get better at dueling,” you said, though the words seemed to drift away from you, swirling toward the high ceilings.

He turned to look at you with a smile, soft and small but no less touching. Something flashed across his eyes, a ray of blinding, beautiful light. Then, it was gone, leaving only a crushing affection, an impossibly excruciating ache. 

“Anything for you.”

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

Peter gave you a supportive nod as you walked into History of Magic on Monday morning, knowing who’d already be at his desk. Wilkes, who you had only seen here and there about the castle over the holiday, turned around as you and Peter went to your seats, his eyes dark as they followed you. Professor Binns’s corpeal figure was floating two and fro in front of the chalkboard, muttering something to himself. You tightened your jaw as you forced your eyes to remain ahead, pulling out your things from your bag.

A few more students filtered in as class began, Binns scribbling something onto the board before he spun around, continuing his leisurely pace about the room with little attention paid to his class. 

“The history of Dai Ryusaki’s amulet prior to his death is largely unknown, though there have been a host of theories explored by both the Ministry and independent researchers…”

You rushed out of class when the bell rang, ready to make a mad dash down the corridor before someone grabbed your arm, spinning you back around. Sirius had caught you, standing beside James, Remus, Lily, Marlene, and Dorcas. Your eyes widened, catching the expletive that had been caught in your throat. Unlike yourself, Peter noticed the group lingering just outside the door, looking just as confused as you were. 

“What’re you all doing here?” he asked. 

James’s gaze darted towards Wilkes, walking out of the classroom with a menacing glance in your direction. James narrowed his eyes, Wilkes turning back around with a smug smile.

“I told you I’d be all right,” you said, crossing your arms. 

“We were going this way anyway,” Lily said, though she’d always been a bad liar. 

You sighed, spinning on your heels to walk down the corridor towards the Great Hall. “C’mon, let's go to lunch.”

“Shouldn’t you be going that way?” James said, motioning down in the opposite direction. 

You shook your head. “McGonagall told me this morning I could eat in the Great Hall again.”

“No, no, no, wait.” James grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to look at him, seemingly utterly outraged at the suggestion. “Are you mad? You can’t eat in the Great Hall with them walking around.”

Lily sighed, “James, if McGona—”

“I agree with him,” Remus interrupted, giving Lily an apologetic look. She didn’t seem to take it very well, her lips pulling to one side as she eyed him.

“I’m eating in the Great Hall, end of discussion,” you said with a final glance at the others. James, who was still extremely hesitant, was not at all swayed by your words. “Lily’s right, it’ll be fine,” you said to him.

He took his hand from your shoulder, slumping as he allowed you to continue towards the Great Hall. 

“I go away for two weeks and everything goes to shit,” Dorcas huffed, breaking a period of short, tense silence. 

You smiled, unsure if it was from joy or misery. “Tell me about it.”

Walking into the Great Hall felt odd. It was as if you hadn’t been there in years, the endless clinking of silverware a long forgotten chorus that used to fill your ears three times a day. Instinctively, you looked towards the Slytherin table, scanning it to see if any of the conspirators, as Marlene had so aptly named them, were there. Severus was sitting with his back to the door, though you’d recognize his hair anywhere, stringy where it hung at his neck. Wilkes was just going up to the table to sit across from him beside Mulciber, the rest of their gaggle already digging into their food. Regulus was one of them, smaller compared to the others, not unlike Snape in his countenance. You wondered when the last time he and his brother had spoken, given that they had not lived in the same house for two years now. 

Fearing Mulciber would look up and catch you staring, your eyes shot away, continuing down the aisle towards a free spot at the Gryffindor table. 

James watched on warily as you put food onto your plate, fidgeting when you went to take a bite. “I don’t like this,” he said suddenly.

Startled, you lowered your fork, staring at him across the table. He was glaring at your food with an intensity that seemed to suggest that he knew, for certain, it had been tampered with. 

“I’m sure Dumbledore took care of it,” Lily whispered to him.

He took his own fork, leaning forward to take a mouthful of your food. Before you could react, he was sitting back down in his seat, chewing as his eyes darted this way and that, trying to determine whether or not he’d drop dead in the next few seconds. You all sat with bated breath, frozen until he swallowed. 

“I feel fine,” he said, though not without another uneasy glance towards your plate. 

You let out a sigh of relief, even though you were quite sure it was perfectly fine to begin with.

“Now, what if it had been poisoned?” Lily chided.

He shrugged, looking rather proud of his own bravery. “I would’ve been a hero, probably have gotten an award.”

“Dunce of the year,” Remus mumbled, snickering into his glass.

Sirius snorted, turning to James with a smirk. “If you drop like a fish within the next forty-eight hours, I’m not reviving you.”

“He’s not going to ‘drop like a fish,’” Lily said, entirely unamused.

“He might do that on his own,” Dorcas chuckled.

The group erupted in laughter, other than Lily, who was still in a twist over James’s continued recklessness. 

“Thank you,” you said to James as the ruckus died down, “but if you do that again, I’ll poison you myself.”

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

With your scarf wrapped tightly around your neck, you once again sat squished between Lily and Marlene in the Gryffindor quidditch stands, waiting for the match to begin. This time around, James, Sirius, and Dorcas were in front of you, each hoping for Hufflepuff to kick Slytherin’s butt into oblivion. Corey Luxfire was back in play, meaning that they actually had a shot this time. 

Each team came flying onto the pitch, the Hufflepuffs roaring as Corey whizzed beside their stands. Even the Gryffindors went wild when their seeker, Poppy Dunwood, did a loop around the goals, circling back towards the center. 

However, you all went quiet as the Slytherin team passed by, Regulus swooping down in front of his house's stands, met with enthusiastic roars. His hair was black like his brothers, though cut far shorter, clean and crisp as every proper young wizard’s of the twenty-eight should be. Sirius turned away as he flew by you to the pitch, hovering above his team across from Poppy. 

Below, Monsieur Button started the game, the players flying off when the quaffle was tossed into the air. 

Instantly, Regulus went for the snitch, whipping around to chase it towards the grass, Poppy hot on his trail. The Ravenclaw’s all craned their heads up as Regulus flew over, circling their tower before he came back down again into the pitch. In the meantime, a Hufflepuff chaser was in possession of the quaffle, throwing it to Corey who took it under his arm, weaving through the Slytherins towards the goal. 

Regulus shot by the Gryffindor stands, losing sight of the snitch as it disappeared past the crowd. 

“Score for Hufflepuff, ten to nothing!” said Atticus Bundleby through the speakers.

The Hufflepuffs erupted in cheers, their banners and flags waving in the air. James, Sirius, and Dorcas stood, hollering as the Slytherin keeper threw the quaffle back into play. The others were not much better, particularly Marlene, who had begun cursing out specific members of the Slytherin team. Lily knocked her shoulder, scowling at her poor behavior. 

“What?” Marlene said, seeing no problem with her choice of language.

Lily shook her head, wrapping her coat around her tighter as she turned back towards the game.

It was a while before Poppy and Regulus spotted the snitch again, nestled near the base of the Hufflepuff tower. Poppy flew underneath a scuffle, a bludger nearly throwing her from her broom. A beater swooped it, blocking it from hitting her in the nick of time, sending it hurling back towards a Slytherin chaser. 

Regulus moved ahead of her, dashing towards the snitch as it went off, zigzagging up towards the students. He flew higher and higher in pursuit, soon becoming small in the face of the sky. This time, Sirius spun around to watch, Poppy flying past in an attempt to catch up. 

“Slytherin scores! It’s one-hundred twenty to eighty, Hufflepuff!”

Poppy was just behind Regulus, inching closer and closer, the snitch near enough to catch. Suddenly, Regulus moved to the side, slowing down just enough to make Poppy jerk back, spinning out and nearly falling off her broom. 

“Dunwood’s falling from her— she’s back up! Black is gaining on the snitch!”

The entirety of the student body had turned away from the pitch to watch the seekers, Regulus following the snitch with odd, random movements as it made it’s attempts to lose him. You glanced at Sirius, his eyes still locked on his brother as his hands curled into tight fists. 

Dorcas was shouting, waving her hands in the air, “C’mon, shake ‘em you hunk of metal!”

“Slytherin scores again! One hundred twenty to ninety, Hufflepuff— Looks like Dunwood’s back in the game!”

“C’mon Poppy!” James called, nearly jumping up and down. He grasped Peter’s shoulders, shaking him silly in his exhilaration. You remembered a time not too long ago when he was praying for her failure, though he’d wish for just about anything if it meant Slytherin would lose. 

Poppy made a valiant effort to catch up, nearly beside Regulus, though she was too late. He grabbed the snitch, holding it up in the air in his triumph. Sirius’s fists loosened, his fingers splaying out for a split second before they returned to their normal, relaxed state. 

“Black captures the golden snitch! Slytherin wins two-forty to one-twenty!”

Dorcas threw her arms down with a groan, “Motherfucker!”

Regulus flew back down towards his team, who surrounded him with cheers of their own. You tried to pick out his expression, though he was too far away, only a vague blur of green robes and dark hair. You watched him for as long as you were able, soon pulled away by Lily as you all went to exit the stands. 

“Two-forty, do you think you can make that up?” Peter asked as you made your way towards the castle over the lawn.

“Yeah, but we’ll have to hustle,” James said, turning to Dorcas and Sirius. “You hear that? I want you two all in these next few months. Their defense is still weak, but Regulus is good.”

“Are you doubting my skills?” Dorcas said, raising her brows.

“You did miss two weeks of drills,” Sirius teased. 

Dorcas scoffed, “I don’t need drills.”

James went to argue, though Marlene’s dramatic, drawn out groan cut him off. 

“This party’s gonna be such a drag,” she said, her shoulders slumping. “I hate it when Slytherin wins, it puts everyone in a bad mood.”

Dorcas threw an arm around her shoulders, smiling down at her. “Don’t say that. We might be able to get James pissed enough to dance.” 

Everyone started snickering, though James only grumbled to himself, his cheeks growing a little more red. If anyone were to point it out, he’d say it was from the cold. 

You leaned against the doorframe of the lavatory, watching Marlene coat her lashes in Madam Wink’s Miracle Mascara. Lily and Dorcas had already gone down to the common room, though Marlene had insisted someone stay with her as she did the long, laborious task of getting ready. 

“How many coats was that?” you groaned, watching as she pristinely applied what seemed like the twentieth. 

She put the wand back in its tube, smirking at you through the mirror. “Why? Do you think I need another?”

“No.”

She still had a look of mischief on her face as she pulled out her lip glass and applied it, far too proud of whatever she was about to say. 

“You and James have been pretty cozy,” she began, raising her brows. “How has your training been?”

You made a noise of disgust, your lip curling in a vain attempt to hide your embarrassment. “James teaching me how to duel is totally, completely platonic and you know it.” 

She turned to face you with a sentimental, sickly sweet expression, completely ignoring your assertion. “He’s been so worried about you like you’re already married. It makes me want to be sick,” her tone could not have been more different from her words, genuine in her happiness for you. 

“What a lovely image, Marls,” you said, full of dry sarcasm.  

“Do you know what he said to Sirius the other day?” she said, her eyes sparkling with the joy of someone who knew something of a scandalous nature. It made your palms itch. “James told him that you’re an excellent dancer.”

“Do you and Sirius talk about me behind my back?” you asked, less offended than you were horrified. 

She shrugged, throwing her lip gloss back into her bag. “Not often.”

You shook your head, trying to forget the frightening new information that Marlene and Sirius were gossiping about you and James. You could only imagine what sorts of conniving plans they were coming up with. 

“Anyway, that's a lie like no other,” you scoffed. “Are you sure he said ‘excellent’?”

She didn’t reply, brushing past you to retrieve her wand on her bed. “One galleon he asks you to dance tonight.”

“Only one? You can’t be that confident.”

She rolled her eyes, motioning for you to follow as she headed to the door. “Come on, let me make you one of my masterpieces.”

Well into the night you were nursing one of Marlene’s concoctions, red and vaguely shimmering, tasting of cranberry and something else unplaceable though undeniably good. The music was playing, some new single they’d been looping all week on the wizard radio stations. In front of you, Sirius, Dorcas, Remus, and James were playing Sparks, a game originating in the twisted mind of Remus Lupin. You and Peter took to watching, Lily and Marlene spinning around with a group of equally drunk students by the speaker. 

The rules of Sparks were ever-changing and increasingly complicated, though it mainly consisted of flipping a coin, shooting sparks from your wand if it landed heads, with the slowest having to drink. However, if there were four tails in a row, the first person to shoot two sparks could choose someone to take a shot of firewhiskey. Remus usually came out just fine, Dorcas did not. At least they weren’t doing shot for shot. 

“I’m going to kill you, Lupin,” Dorcas gritted, moving to pour herself a shot. 

Remus smiled as she grimaced at the taste. “Wanna quit?”

“Never.” She slammed her glass down onto the table, steely as she stared at him.

Unprompted by the game, James downed whatever was left in his glass, looking around at you all expectantly. “All right, who’s dancing?”

“Is it that time already?” Sirius taunted.

James, likely too buzzed to take notice, waited for someone to answer his call. Peter, who you were pretty sure never danced a day in his life, did not move an inch, nor did Remus.

“I’m finishing this even if it kills me,” said Dorcas, her wand still in her hand, ready to take action. 

“Don’t make me go out there alone!” James whined. 

Sirius smirked again, devious and unnerving. “I’m sure Y/N wants to,” he drawled, turning to you. 

Your head, fuzzy and light, swarmed with the memory of two Tuesdays ago, the sound of the muggle crooner in the RoR, the weight of his hand in yours. You could hear Sirius’s guitar, Carly Simon, the sight of James's crooked glasses, feeling the rush as he dipped you. 

You chuckled nervously, shrinking into yourself. “I don’t know…”

“C’mon, you’re my favorite, remember?” James said, slouching forward. 

You thought you might die. “Okay, just for one—”

James put his glass down onto the table, taking yours and doing the same before he led you towards the group that had clustered around the radio, charmed to play louder than designed. He was burning up, the heat rising up to your shoulder and well into your chest, hammering as you neared Lily and Marlene. You wanted to run, for there were too many people, too many possibilities to make a fool of yourself. 

When Lily noticed you two she squealed, having breached that point in the night where almost everything made her delighted. She did some silly, twirling move as James spun you not unlike he had before, pushing you out only to pull you back in again. His curls, wild from the long night, caught the light in a way that made your knees feel like jelly. You noticed Marlene watching you with a cocky smile, a precursor to all the “I told you so’s” you’d have to hear whenever she got you alone. 

“I don’t need spells, I don’t need charms, I just want you in my arms, you’re the greatest witch that I have ever seen…”

It was a cheesy song, perfect for dancing and not for listening. Through the noise, a few Gryffindors called to James the way only he received, a liquor fueled affinity for the way he effortlessly charmed the world. He was James Potter: Head Boy, quidditch captain, the life-breath of every shindig who seemed to be known and adored by everyone (other than the Slytherins). But you, you were his favorite, at least to dance with. You weren’t sure how much you could trust his words given the state he was in, though you took them to heart anyway, holding to them as if they were gospel. I’m his favorite. 

Slowly, you relaxed, giving way to the unserious manner in which James danced, a thousand different styles melded together into something entirely his own. Lily took you away after a few songs, shouting the lyrics as she danced. You did the same, mumbling half of them and not caring how your voice sounded. It was drowned out by the music and chatter anyway, blocked by the muffliato charm at the door. 

As you spun around with her, James took both your hands, tugging you back with a laugh. Marlene took your place with the same look as before, watching as James led you in a quasi-swing dance, messy steps that barely went with the song. Your perception of time was warped, the music melting into one great, endless ballad. You could’ve been there for ten minutes or ten hours, lost in its false infinity. 

Just as James pulled you closer, ready to sway with the funky beat of a new song, he stiffened, stopping completely as he glared across the room. You glanced behind you, unconsciously squeezing his hand tighter as you saw Zephyr walk inside, weaving through the crowd. Students whispered to one another, looking at him sideways as he passed, heading towards the staircase. 

James’s eyes shot back to yours, filled with concern as he leaned in closer to speak into your ear, “Want to go?”

All you did was nod. 

You didn’t feel drunk enough for this. In fact, you were less than tipsy, your head far too clear to handle the way everyone seemed to turn away from Zephyr towards you and James leaving the huddle of dancers. Lily and Marlene each called out your name, though you only glanced back, hidden from their sight by the crowd. 

As soon as James got you out of the common room he pulled the cloak from his pocket, throwing it over you both. Any other time you would’ve questioned why he was walking around with the cloak at a party, as well as the fact that it seemed as though everyone had illegally charmed their pockets but you. You were also surprised he was taking you out after curfew without the map, though you didn’t question it, lest he change his mind. 

“Where are we going?” you whispered, trying to ignore the way your shoulders pressed together. 

He didn’t try to hide his worry, his brows pinched as he looked at you in the low light. “Where do you want to go?”

You thought for a moment, though the need to get away from Gryffindor Tower was greater than you desire to pick the perfect spot. The piles of dust covered furniture in the Room of Requirement was entirely unappealing, as were any of the passageways you’d sometimes hide away in. 

“The Astronomy Tower,” you answered finally.

James smiled softly, beginning to walk down the corridor towards the main castle. “Exquisite choice.” 

You peeked out of the cloak upon arriving at the tower, saying the password given to all N.E.W.T. level Astronomy students so they could access the viewing deck for study, “Six hundred eighty-five thousand over pi.”

Once inside, James threw off the cloak, shoving it back into his pocket as he stared at you in confusion. “What’s the password mean?”

“It’s the equation for how long a parsec is in meters,” you said, chuckling as he continued to look as if you were speaking a different language. 

“What’s a parsec?”

You kept your laughter down the best you could as you continued up the steps, the ceiling twinkling above you. “A little over three lightyears.”

You didn’t reach for your wand when you made it up, relishing the cold air on your bare skin. Instantly, being there made it seem as if the common room was halfway across the world, the noise gone, Zephyr just a distant memory. James followed as you went to the railing, your head craned up to look at the stars. It was nearly the new moon, leaving the sky naked of its usual, vibrant glow. Still, the milky way was painted pale pink and purple, fading out into dark blue, sprinkled with a million stars like specks of glittering paint. 

You each stayed there unspeaking, suspended in the hazy hours of Sunday morning, a time in which all things either felt entirely lovely or entirely awful. This moment was the former. 

James’s pinky brushed yours, though he pulled it away before you could savor it. Swallowing, he briefly glanced at the side of your face before looking away again. 

“I’ve always been bad at constellations,” he said, soft as if to slowly break the silence, little by little. “I know Orion and Ursa Major, but that's about it.”

“At least you paid attention in first year Astronomy,” you said, your smile growing without you realizing. You pointed towards a star, radiant amongst the others. “See that one?”

James followed your line of sight, poking his head beside yours. 

“That’s Regulus, the lion's heart. If you follow it up, it’ll make the Sickle, which is Leo’s head. Back there is Denebola, the tail. April is a good month to see Leo.”

When you looked back at him, you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to look away again. 

He smiled, more lovely than any constellation. “How do you remember them all?”

“I don’t know,” you began. “It’s like remembering spells. If you use them enough, after a while it becomes second nature. I’ve always liked the muggle stories, though. They help.”

His eyes brightened. “What’s the story for Leo?”

“Lots of questions,” you teased. 

He bumped your shoulder, glancing back at the sky. “Is it a crime to be curious?”

You rolled your eyes, still studying his profile. “You know who Hercules is, right?”

“Big strong guy?”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Long story short, Hera didn’t like Hercules, so one day she made him go mad and murder his wife and children. Hercules was ridden with guilt, so to atone for his sins he went to serve his cousin, King Eurystheus, for twelve years. Once he did this, he’d be rewarded with immortality. At first King Eurystheus gave him ten labors to do, but it actually ended up being twelve in the end. Again, long story,” you paused, trying to regain your train of thought.

“Anyway, the first of the labors was to kill the Nemean Lion and bring back its fur. At first, Hercules tried to shoot it with arrows, but they bounced right off. So, he blocked off one entrance to its cave and snuck in the other, strangling it with his bare hands. But, when he tried to skin it, knives couldn’t cut through. Athena came and told him to use its claws, which worked. After that, he wore its skin throughout the other labors because it was stronger than armor. Then, y’know, he did all the other labors and became a hero.”

“Think I could strangle a lion with my bare hands?” James asked with a laugh. 

“No,” you said, pretending to think it over. “Maybe a toad or something.”

He leaned his arms on the railing, hanging his head as if you’d ripped his heart out. “You’re so awful to me.” 

“You’ll forgive me,” you said, used to his dramatics after all this time. 

After a beat he stood back up, shivering as a gust of wind blew past the tower. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, placing his hand on top of yours, running his thumb over your knuckles. He took it away too soon for your liking, leaving you longing for the feeling of his palm.

“No, the cold feels good,” you said, your head growing light again as he turned to face you fully. You were filled with an inescapable desire to confess, spurred on by the way you felt halfway in a dream, as if anything you said now only existed here, safe from consequence. But, even if you did speak, what could you say? How could you possibly word it, a thing so simple yet so unbelievably complicated? I love you, I think I always have. 

James spoke before you had a chance to take the plunge, though part of you wished he hadn’t, “You’re a good dancer, you know,” he paused, his smile like the sun, illuminating the night. “And you’re the only one that’ll humor me.”

You looked at him as if he had gone insane. “How drunk are you?”

“Practically sober.”

Something about his reply reminded you of his animagus form, as if he’d sprout antlers at any moment. You studied him with great suspicion, noting his ruddy cheeks, though it could’ve been from the chill. 

“I mean it!” he said, growing more impassioned. “My last drink was an hour and a half ago, and I wasn’t that bad then. Didn’t want to get too pissed with Zephyr running around.”

“I thought you only danced when you were drunk,” you challenged. 

“I danced with you two weeks ago when I was sober,” he paused, his features softening. “How about you?”

“Stone cold,” you said, perfectly honest. “Don’t tell Marlene, though. She made me a dozen drinks, but I kept pawning them off onto Remus.”

“I won't,” he chuckled, pausing after a moment to lick his lips, gone dry with the wind. “Anything for you, remember?”

Of course you remembered, you had thought about it every day since he said it. You wracked your brain for a suitable reply, though all you came up with was “I love you”. 

“James, I,” you trailed off, heady with the sight of him, his words, the way he seemed to take you in.

For a moment you really did think it was a dream, because he was looking at you the way you had caught him in the courtyard, endeared to you like no other. Now, however, it wasn’t going away, remaining as he took a step closer, his hands coming to your cheeks. He touched you just as tenderly as he had in the RoR, his fingers brushing along your ears, his gaze bouncing from your eyes to your lips. You stared back up at him, perhaps with the same expression.

In a split second he closed the distance, the world blooming as he kissed you. He moved his hands down to your waist, yours finding their way across his shoulders, towards the nape of his neck where they threaded through his hair. He held you fervently, delicate as if you were a rare, treasured gift. Deep within you something stirred like a gavel striking, a single word ringing out in place of a bang: finally. It was perfect, better than all the times you had imagined it, greater than any book you’d ever read. 

As soon as you parted, your head rushing and your heart swelling with absolute bliss, the realization felt more like being struck with an anvil. You just kissed James.

“Mother of Merlin,” you gasped, still staring into his eyes. They were blown out and beautiful, though it didn’t stop you from taking a step back. “You absolute tosser,” you mumbled to yourself, the world spinning all around you, dizzying in the worst way. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his expression pained and rather awkward. “I’m sorry, I thought you wanted—”

You paced back and forth, adrenaline coursing through you. “No, I did. That's the worst part.”

“I have to say, I’m a little offended,” he said, looking at you as if suffering from a dull, ever-present injury, more annoying than it was excruciating. 

“That’s not what I meant,” you sighed, preoccupied with the stark juxtaposition between your immense happiness and equal regret. 

Flabbergasted and obviously unsure how to proceed, he slowly neared you again, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What is it? Is it something I did?” he asked carefully. 

Your lips still tingled, your stomach buzzing with the aftermath of your most folly, foolish wish come true. You loved him, and at the very least, he fancied you back. 

“Lily,” was all you could say, her name coming out broken and shameful. 

He furrowed his brows, his mouth ajar. “What about her?”

“Lily,” you repeated, attempting to convey the seriousness of your crimes, though it did not seem to have the intended effect. “You and I, we can’t, not when—” you cut yourself off, huffing as you brought the heels of your hands to your eyes. 

“You think because I dated Lily we can’t be together?” 

You nodded, your fingers blocking your sight of him. You couldn’t bear to look, not when he was everything you ever wanted. 

He gently held your hands, saying your name as he brought them away. 

“Of course we can,” he began, ducking down so you would have to look at him. “She won’t care, not a bit, not when,” he faltered, shaking his head as he reached up to touch your cheek. “She can’t be upset with a man in love.”

You soared. “You’re in love with me?”

“Of course I am,” he began, smiling wider. “I’ve told you before.”

Elation washed over you, the stars seeming to shine brighter over you both, dazzling in their celestial waltz. In an instant, you forgot about all the reasons why you shouldn’t, only able to recall why you should. 

Breathless, you lifted the weight that had been upon you for far too long, “I love you too.”

“Thank Godric,” he chuckled, rubbing a thumb along your temple. “I was getting nervous for a minute.”

“You love me,” you whispered, mostly to yourself, as if trying to cast it in stone. 

“Please let me kiss you again, or I think I might die,” his voice was ardent, bursting at the seams with a nearly theatrical plea for your attention. 

You rolled your eyes. “So dramatic—”

He cut you off, pressing his lips to yours. He was careful with you, nearly chaste, cradling your jaw as your noses bumped. You fisted your hands in his jumper, no plans of letting go.

*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*⑅୨୧*

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile

[precalamity]

the worst pieces of media in the world are the ones that have moments of shining brilliance and intrigue surrounded by dragging storylines and loose threads. bad media I can ignore and forget about. almost media ? makes me enraged

[hrokkall]

Minos and Sisyphus Prime but they're both core files from hit 2016 game Pony Island

[mohntilyet]

not to mention the entire antaam fleet like 😭 that was the PERFECT moment to show off what the lords could do!!! The antaam fucked over rivain, theyve been a thorn in the whole nations side for a long time now, they would not pass up a chance for payback via full scale naval warfare so that the veilguard can do what they need to!! Sure dreadnoughts are dangerous but at this point they probably have tricks up their sleeve, thats one of the few things they have!

also wouldn't it be personal because does solas not try to blow up kont-aar because he's trying to 5d chess tevinter and the qunari into destroying each other. like. i know technically this would not be incredible widespread news because the attack was stopped, but i don't think the wonderful citizens of kont-aar would have missed the tsunami that nearly hit them and the shockwave that actually hit them. rumors go around. and i assume irian/vadis tell varric. who i think would tell isabela. who would tell the group she leads. who would care because ofc, they LIVE IN RIVAIN, and now know that solas and his followers thinks they can trade rivaini lives* to further his plans.

*while i also think there's probably a divide between kont-aar and the rest of the nation, it's one that the rivaini love to jump across and back over. an interesting comparison to be made here with most of rivain having similar sentiments towards dairsmuid and the chantry. like this is the country specifically mentioned to have a lot of citizens who follow the qun/are non-andrastian + it being MUCH more multicultural and accepting than other nations. any attack on rivain, even if it's a qunari settlement, would fan a lot of flames that solas cannot put out so the idea of trying to him taking multiple steps back because he didn't realise how intensely the qun/rivaini/lords would react is very fun for me. it would have been soo interesting for rivain to be a hub for efforts against solas because of how it's not influenced by andrastianism, how he (or his agents) specifically fucked them over, and (maddeningly for solas) also part of this resistance has spirits who willingly guide them against him. this could have even been a plot device where the door goes both ways and solas finds out rook's plans because he manages to eavesdrop through a seer or something.

and on the spirits. all the stuff where the mourn watch regularly communicates with spirits could have been done with rivain as well, and with different takes on being 'friendly' with spirits. iirc there's a spirit in the hall of valor which is so interesting but it's literally just there for flavour text. THERE'S A SPIRIT IN THE HALL OF VALOR THAT DOES NOTHING BESIDES LIKE. SAY HI. ??? bioware i would have liked to see more spirits and seers and the matriarchal pantheists you have talked about please. and also the idea of the peaceful qunari settlement being pushed to protect the country they are part of and what that means for them as qunari vs. rivaini. taash's storyline could have contributed to this . so A LOT less about choosing a side, more about how kont-aar has developed, changed, how rivain has influenced it and what it means to be qunari. not the qunari agents and fighters that we have seen, but their 'civillian' way of life in kont-aar.

complete waste not seeing any of established lore reflected in the lords of fortune or rivain because i stupidly actually thought we were going to see some kind of settlement and be introduced to a very different cultural norms.. in my beautiful mind i like to think taash is a little taken aback by how badly mages/elves/etc are treated. like they understood it was different outside of rivain (they would have been young when the dairsmuid circle annulment happened right? so they don't 'remember' it themself, they likely heard others talking about it when they're old enough to understand) but until they actually saw what was happening first hand, they had a weird dissonance about it. but what we got was a deserted beach, ties to another faction (wardens are fine!! they are great !!!! the fourth blight is interesting!!!! yet they are not the faction with a lack of info about them!!!!!) and also the hall of valor that exists as flavor text with nothing meaningful behind it besides a pub used in a few cutscenes and a minigame.

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

finally got around reading the first two stories of Tevinter Nights last night and Down Among the Dead Men by Sylvia Feketekuty kinda made me want to start my first Rook with the Mourn Watch, ngl

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

🍑, 🥦, 🥬, 🍒

for Storm, and

🍋(SORRY I HAD TO), 🍏, 🍇, 🥑

for Axelrod

Bonus I thought for a second about suggesting 🍏 for Finn and you can still answer it but then I had the thought he would say "Well, isn't everybody a little Queer?" and then leave it at that and that is making me laugh so much right now sorry

-@markbeakskisser

IM SORRY I. THOUGHT I POSTED THIS THREE DAYS AGO. In relation to the tags of this post I am already out of school. My last day was last Friday. Thank you a million for the ask I loved answering it. I don't know how coherent any of this post is, I was a madman when I answered it.

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Tumblr. Nuked my post and I am losing my mind having to retype it and I'm HOPING I remember all my thoughts but. Normally I save it as a draft like five different times when I know it's going to be a long post BECAUSE I don't wanna lose the whole thing but. It was 3:30am when I had first seen this and went to answer it and I was completely cracking up over that idea for Finn because. It's FITTING. Especially cause like. Going off his car model and when the movie came out that man is like. He's like 53 or something. So he totally grew up in a time where that was probably even more unacceptable and that would so be like the trying to cope responce that goes in to just saying it to mess with people. Your stereotypical gentleman who is suave and overly sappy romantic and likes buys roses and boxes of chocolates and would throw his suit jacket down over a puddle even though it's NOT necessary. Oh and he's also GAY.

I just. Or like some interview sort of thing and the interviewer asks him something and that's how he responds and there is just a lengthy silence before the interviewer is like "....no.?" And he's like "oh" and then has to take a sip from his wine IM. SORRY.I JUst. I don't know why I have so many thoughts on this. I haven't even gotten into saying thanks for giving me an entire fruitbasket worth of things to answer. I'm pretty sure if I was an animal in a zoo so much of my enrichment would just come from these.

I don't know how you're so good at this incorrect quotes things with them.

For J.ackson Storm:

I don't know how you telepathically magically knew I was thinking about him but I suppose they are all ping-ponging around in my head like cable TV screensavers. I proceeded to space out here and have about 40 minutes worth of my own entire imaginary thing but I really need to dedicate a day to just sitting and thinking about him because I like him a lot and thought about him a lot(he's the whole starting reason for my Cars thing and actually the one I ended up liking first), and if it wasn't for EventsTM my brain probably wouldn't be so clogged trying to think about him naturally. I. I haven't even started any of the asks I'm going to stop now. This is gonna be a long one isn't it.

🍑 - is your f/o more comfortable giving or receiving gifts? why? do they have any preferences on gifts they like receiving?

I feel like he'd be more comfortable receiving gifts because I feel like he would have a lot of trouble trying to get people gifts or having an idea on what to gift them. If it came up naturally(like he saw something that reminded him of someone else that they'd like) he'd probably have an easier time with it but if an event or holiday comes up he'd probably break in half. But also partly because of his popularity(he did a lot of online/iRacing/simulator competetive racing stuff, he was super good at it, and it's how he got offeree to race on actual tracks) he probably was used to being given things from winning events or from people that would support him. He's not very well rehearsed on what feelings are, so things like gift giving/recieving, which normally(keyword) involves feelings or knowing what other people would like sort of plays to his weaknesses.

I feel like if he ever did get anything that he was happy over getting, he probably wouldn't express it well(at all), but he'd either end up using it until he couldn't anymore(whether it's playing a video game till he's sick of it or something that is a 'practical tool' like a weighted blanket) or if it's a more sentimental/handmade thing he'd probably leave it on a high shelf where it couldn't get tampered with and perhaps most people wouldn't see it and be able to question him on it.

🥦 - does your f/o have any pet peeves? things that just really really get on their nerves? what are they and why?

This is a really interesting one because I feel like he has a lot of things that can upset him, so i gotta mull over which ones would fall under the line of being a pet peeve and which is just something that sets him off. I feel like he would not be able to do getting interrupted at all. And unless it's like someone he's really REALLY close with, I feel like he wouldn't be big on touch either. There are veryy few times where be might not care or he might reach out first but even then 98% of the time it's probably better to just ask him if you can or to just not worry about it, even if it's something like just patting him on the shoulder or whatnot. Even I ask, of course. Even if most the time I get a "yes" or "sure", just giving the choice makes a big difference.

🥬 - what are some beige flags your f/o has? so, not bad, but not nessecarily good either. just. "oh. you do This."

These flag things always trip me up because in my head from my understanding red flags are like "Hey, you should probably end the relationship over this, it's pretty bad" but then I'll hear things like people saying it's a red flag to do something that is completely arbitrary and I can't tell if I've lost my mind or they've lost my mind. Then again, I'm kinda super biased even with beige flags because there are very few, if any things that my F/Os can do that I'll be like "://" over, yknow? Cause like, if they did something that off-put me that much I probably wouldn't like them that much! Am I reading into this too much? I probably am.

However. If we're talking from an OUTSIDE perspective, like what other people might consider beige flags for him, there's a right amount of things I could say because he was one of the ones that I got critisizm for liking him. I feel like how quickly he gets frustrated over things might be something that would get pointed out, cause in the book about his backstory, after something like getting sensory overloaded on a couple occasions he would get really upset/angry to the point of storming off(cough pun intended). But I also completely understand that and I think that adds to my bias😅. And I'm sure many would be turned off by his cold demeanor.

🍒 - if your f/o and you spend a day doing anything, anything at all, what would they do and why?

Okay, I really like this question because I get to talk about how he spends 90% of his freetime just playing through racing simulators. But I need to you picture the whole complete setup of having the wheel and pedals and things that you hook up to your computer and like the several monitors. Like a dedicated room or corner of a room to it. And that's what he spends most of his time doing. He is online a lot but his social media presence does not exist it all. He is not very outdoorsy either so if we are spending the day together a lot of it will be spent either playing games together(sometimes I can convince him to try out another game with me) And most the time, even if we are playing together on like an Xbox controller or something, I'm still spending about the whole session just fawning over his skills at it. Sometimes I can grab his attention with something else for a little bit if I end up cooking or knitting or such. You should've absolutely seen the face he pulled and reaction he had over me knitting.

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For Axlerod:

🍋 - if your f/o could change one thing about themselves, what would they change and why?

Okay, I was giggling at first at the fact that you picked lemon for him because that's funny, and then I wanted to get into my story about how I actually really like lemons and sour candy is my favorite type of candy and whenever I get iced tea at restaurants I always take the lemon slice and just eat it and don't squeeze it in the tea but the FACT THAT THIS IS THE QUESTION TO IT IM. It's too early in the morning for this.

Okay I'm going to be real here IM GOING TO BE REAL HERE. Once I stop losing my mind. Truthfully. Okay. BECAUSE of the whole lemon thing. I do think he would have several answers for what he'd want to change about himself because asides from money and power that man IS insecure. I've already talked about my headcannon of him wearing his hat and like nevveerrr ever taking it off because it helps hide his curly hair right. That's why I have to squeeze him and love on him until a proper ego about his geniune self starts to form. And definitely not because I'd do it anyway regaurdless. Totally. I mean he is literally the kingpin of the lemons(movie captions call him kingpin, their words not mine!!), that man is messed up. Society probably tried to maul him. Humanized version of what a lemon is is nearly just any minority ever. Breaks down a lot? Faulty? Doesn't work right? Gets slander souly just for looks, typically ones they can't control? I mean, even asides from things like rust and dents and whatnot, cars like Acer's typically worked fine, but they got dubbed "fishbowl"(it's also his lisence plate) because of how they looked and it was the running gag. What gets dubbed a lemon is bulleted point #2 for why I cry over his speach, in this essay I will-

🍏 - if you have any queer headcanons for your f/o, how did they realize they were queer?

It's funny because for a long time when I was still sorting out how I identified, I was genderfluid at the time, and so I just dubbed all the characters I liked as pan and called it a night. I still do that now for a few reasons but then we will get off topic into my entire gender identity story! But also because of that, I don't have very proper elaborate stories of them realizing their feelings and such. There are a select few of them where I might have more particular queer headcannons or have more of a story for them, but I do think for Axlerod it would be something that he'd known about himself for a while. Like a longgg while. And he probably has moments of openly showcasing it or supporting it with pride flags and whatnot without caring about any negative stuff he might receive. He has to at least have one big open indulgence in it during pride month. I normally am more quiet during pride month but I don't mind indulging with him cause it makes him smile(I say, at 6 in the morning with half-lidded sleepy eyes and the most "I have a problem" smile of a grin).

🍇 - if you and your f/o never met, what do you think your f/o would be doing right now?

Oohhhhmigosh. Blowing up the planet, probably? /joking. There's this whole entire thing in the story of him getting a little more tame in his havoc and it becoming slightly noticeable to others, because his vengeful scheming against the world eases up a bit now that he has someone to keep him a bit straight and that also doesn't want to kick him to the curb for him doing human things like. Being strange or a bit unconventional. And also because he now has an animal at home(me) to take care if and put time and energy into. And feed sandwhiches. So if we hadn't met, he'd probably still be just as unhinged as ever, if not a bit more destructive. Heck, I shudder to think about where myself would be if it wasn't for my F/Os! So maybe we'd meet in the midst of wrecking havoc(Kane can not cope with the concept of him and F/Os not meeting).

🥑 - is there any niche topics your f/o is interested in? what are they and why do they like them?

OKAY. I WISH I HAD GONE INTO BETTER DEPTH IN THIS DURING THE MOVIE WHEN WE WERE WATCHING IT. I don't know how niche this really is but I really like it. But with the whole newspaper thingy and it talking about the like Abyssian Desert that he crossed and the whole "around the globe" thing for the World Grand Prix like. I think he just enjoys doing that stuff. Which I suppose it's like yknow he is/has a Land Rover! Of course he does! But a Land Rover doesn't HAVE to do anything!! There are plenty that just go around on motorways! I think he just likes doing that stuff just for fun. That slight smile and sad pathetic wink(I love him) was not the same maddening smile during the Mel Dorado show and next to the Queen of England that say "I should probably be interrogated over something." Kane do NOT pull out pictures and clips. Even if they're in good quality. Maybe. Maybe later. Later. We can do that later in the day.

But I think he just enjoys going out and exploring. Going on like hikes or something. Ohmigosh it's. 6 in the morning and I'm covering my face and closing my eyes and giggling. Yes I've been working on this post for the past three hours straight, I've loved every second of it. I accidentally. Just typed. "-I've loved every second of him" and if that doesn't confirm my brain has been sucked into a hole then I don't know what does.

But anyway. I also really enjoy that stuff. Which is partly why I want a Jeep and why I like going on really long walks and just wandering into bits of land that I probably shouldn't be trespassing. We need to take a hike or something.

[ohio-thestate]

new hyperfixation incoming

[raetreaderarts]

So I started playing mysims again and I think I’m in love

I just love mean women we all know this by now, she’s the first person I moved into my town the second I got two stars because I’m a mega simp

Yes I am insane for simping for a mysims character thank you for asking <3 As a kid I was super into Tobor actually, and while he’s still a favorite of mine, I now want to become Elmira’s personal footrest. Planning on drawing my sim and posting her here cause she’s gnc af fr

[gurenkurosen]

ohh i think im coming to a bit of a realization actually as to why mmos are so scary when im forced to party

[duskerot]

people will really hear that you dont want kids and take it as an excuse to say the most fucked up insane things to you

[callioope]

i have once again been sucked into critical role by the gravitational pull of essek thelyss and am furiously attempting to catch up

[tommygotwrittenoff]

i need eddie to get another guy friend in season 8, and buck loses his shit about it (again), so he breaks up with t because he's convinced that the weird feeling he gets when he sees them together is because he is Really attracted to the new guy.

[todayisafridaynight]

i know kiwami 3 isn’t coming any time soon but the fact that it was CONFIRMED to be coming soon makes me tweak rlly bad like i need it so bad I WNAT IT NOW!!!!!!!!

NOT SOON FRIEND tho i guess relatively soon. a confirmation of sorts at all is enough to make me sick really....... it still makes me wanna see hd mine so.........

[griseldabanks]

Had a facepalm moment earlier of discovering the brilliant fic you wrote for someone’s Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan prompt and hoping you’d write more, and then…several days later…realizing…PROMPTS. That’s how this works. Anyway, can’t believe I didn’t send you one earlier, but: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan for "I missed you”, if you’re up for it?

Let Me Count the Ways ask game

It had been a long, exhausting day, but Obi-Wan didn't feel tired in the least. Packing up all of his belongings (few as they were) and moving them across the Dune Sea would have been a tiring endeavor, even if he hadn't just come from a harrowing trip halfway across the galaxy. And then, of course, there was a new cave to find, preliminary preparations to be made before nightfall in order to make his new home habitable...but none of that mattered.

Wrapping his cloak around himself against the chill of the desert night, Obi-Wan sat on the shelf of rock where he'd placed his bedroll. He pulled his legs up onto the blanket, closed his eyes, and opened himself to the Force.

Warmth and light that had nothing to do with his small heating unit suffused him from the inside out. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he reached out tentatively and murmured, “Master Qui-Gon?”

“Obi-Wan.”

His eyes popped open, and there, sitting beside him on the rock as if he'd been there the whole time, was Qui-Gon. Translucent and tinged blue—like a hologram and yet not—Qui-Gon looked the same as he had the day he'd died. The same twinkle in his eyes, the same hint of humor lingering in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the twitch of his beard, in the lilt of his voice....

“You're here,” was all Obi-Wan could think to say.

Qui-Gon nodded patiently. “So I am.”

“I missed you.” Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes. “I missed you so much, Qui-Gon.”

Qui-Gon's eyebrows knitted together with a look of sympathy. “I know.”

If he'd been here physically, he would have reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Now, he didn't move, but Obi-Wan felt a gentle ripple in the Force washing over him, warm and familiar. Obi-Wan closed his eyes to savor that feeling, something he hadn't experienced in so long.

How many times a day would Obi-Wan feel that presence brush against his, like the touch of a hand? Checking to see where the other was, reassurance in a moment of trouble, a brief reminder or admonishment that needed no words. As unique and unmistakable as a voice, as a fingerprint forever marked in his soul.

And yet, for some twenty-odd years, he hadn't felt Qui-Gon's presence even once.

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, he felt like a boy again. Like that twelve-year-old boy who had just become a Padawan and wondered if he would ever truly please his Master.

“I needed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his own voice surprising him. “I called to you, again and again. Where were you?”

Qui-Gon's eyes were as kind as ever as he folded his arms inside the voluminous sleeves of his robe. “Tell me, Padawan: What happens to us when we die?”

Now he really did feel like a boy again. This was a question even the youngest of younglings could answer. “We become one with the Force.”

Qui-Gon nodded, as though that settled the matter.

It didn't take a genius to understand what Qui-Gon was getting at. The dead became one with the Force, and the Force was a Jedi's constant companion. In a way, Qui-Gon had never really left.

And yet, Obi-Wan still couldn't shake the feeling of abandonment. He dropped his gaze to his hands clasped in his lap. “There have been so many times I needed your guidance, Master,” he whispered. “And never, not once, did I hear your voice.”

“And were you listening?” Qui-Gon's voice was gentle, oh so gentle, but still it made shame swirl in Obi-Wan's gut.

Because he hadn't been listening. He had closed himself off from the Force for so long, terrified of being found out, of being hunted down, of unintentionally betraying Luke to those who would kill him in an instant. And if he didn't leave even the slightest crack open for the Force to seep through, that meant Qui-Gon couldn't reach him either.

He really was like a child. A child with his fingers in his ears, demanding to know why no one would talk to him.

A warm brush of the Force, like a consoling hand placed on his back. Qui-Gon didn't even have to say anything, because he had already said it a thousand times, in a thousand situations over the years they'd worked together. Accept the shame, then let it go. You are not your mistakes. Learn from them, and they will help you grow.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan envisioned his lungs filling with stale air from the years he had languished here on Tatooine. The years he had let the burden of his guilt press down on his shoulders till he could hardly raise his head in the morning. Then he breathed out, imagining the guilt and shame floating out like wisps of smoke on the air.

Opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, Obi-Wan turned to look at Qui-Gon again. “I called to you when I went to face Vader.”

Qui-Gon nodded, eyes warm with compassion. “I was there.”

“I needed you...so many times...here on Tatooine.”

“I was there.”

Qui-Gon's form wavered, and Obi-Wan blinked, letting tears trickle into his beard. “When...I went to confront Anakin...on Mustafar...when I-I thought that I had...that I had....”

All he could see was his master's eyes, full of sympathy and compassion, understanding and acceptance. “I was there, Obi-Wan.”

For a moment, he held Qui-Gon's gaze. Then he dropped his head into his hands and let the tears flow. “So...every time....”

“Always.”

“You saw...every time I've failed....”

“And every success.” Like a warm blanket, Qui-Gon's presence folded around him in an embrace he felt in the depths of his soul. “I am proud of you, Obi-Wan. You have become a greater man and a greater Jedi than I ever could have foreseen.”

The heat of the twin suns seemed lodged permanently in Obi-Wan's chest. “Only because of your guidance, Master.”

They smiled at each other, and even though they looked nothing like they had when Obi-Wan had been an apprentice, the connection between them was as strong as ever.