#because I can’t write at the moment

[look-at-the-soul]

Pink parallels 💖💕

On the left a photo I found online of an old Irish cottage (Tramore Road Waterford), on the right a recent photo I took of a house in my hometown 💕💞💘💗💓💝

[specific-dreamer]

and when i write a fic where ponyboy and johnny don’t go to dally after killing bob

johnnys tryna pull pony’s unresponsive self away from bob but ponyboy is wet and cold and scared and probably .3 seconds away from crying and all he knows is darry

darry can make this all go away

darry might be mad again when he sees pony wet at 230am but once he explains maybe he won’t be as mad. if pony’s lucky (he usually isn’t) maybe darry won’t be too angry at him for running out the house

darry will know what to do with the blade. he’ll know if they ought to bury it somewhere or just clean it real good. and if he can’t, well darry had always been real smart he’ll know how to get them out of town

i just

idk man there’s something about a soaking wet ponyboy on the verge of tears (because jesus mary christmas somebody just tried to kill him how is he alive)

and he’s never actually seen a dead body before at least not one that he knows darry made sure him and soda never saw they’re parents mangled bodies, but bob is right there. blood leaking out of him staining the grass red like in that wonderland book he read a while ago.

bob is right there and if pony doesn’t focus, if he quits using his head, he can almost pretend bob is just sleeping, albeit in a weird position

and (for a split second) pony almost wishes it was him instead of bob. he almost wishes bob did succeed in killing him. because pony was unconscious and he was so close to seeing his mama and daddy again. he was so close and he accepted it, drowning wasn’t exactly how he wanted to go out but if he got to see his mama again then oh well. his eyes was closed one moment and the next he’s coughing up water and seeing johnny with a bloody knife

and ponyboy is soaking wet, somebody tried to kill him, he feels like he’s gonna throw up or pass out again, and all he knows is he wants to run to his big brother. he wants him to hold him and tell pony that it’s gonna be okay and that darry will take care of everything

[rendevok]

your narumitsu art made me weep with joy and I heard you want more requests 👀

idk if this is the right place to put them but I think phoenix coming with miles to try on his glasses for the first time would be sweet :,) miles asking how they look and phoenix being just smitten. the good stuff

Dear anon… you sure know how to pick em! Things got very out of hand very quickly while drawing, and well. You inspired me to draft a comic! I didn’t want to make you wait long, so here are the sketches for the pages relevant to your request <3

Thanks so much, and hope you enjoy~! 💜

[campbyler]

how are you guys doing?

honestlyyy we have both been going through it for a minute which you guys probably have picked up on from our very unplanned absence on here 😗 our work schedules have just been so crazy and we have had some personal stuff going on at both ends so we have been existing in a kind of default state of complete and total exhaustion for like a month i fear. but we are now 1. medication twinsies which is so silly of us actually and 2. getting therapized on the regular so hopefully we will both feel more normal soon and get our creative energy back and be more active online again 🥳 (thea is also actively being blown away by the hurricane right now so everyone please manifest that she stays safe and dry and doesn’t end up floating away down the gulf because i would miss her and be so sad.) thank you for asking i hope you’re doing well! 🫶🏽

[louieshalo]

demiromantic asexual riz gukgak save me… save me demi/ace riz who can’t distinguish his romantic feelings for fabian from his platonic ones

[sesamestreep]

sexy himbo jock interpretations of James Tiberius Kirk are silly and do a disservice to the character for a lot of reasons, not least of which is that it fundamentally ignores all the times in canon when Kirk is faced with a scientific discovery or oddity and you can see the effort it takes for him not to clap and skip with excitement. like in ‘the devil in the dark’ when Spock posits that they might be dealing with a silicon based life form and McCoy’s like “but that’s impossible!” and Kirk literally crosses the room to flirt talk excitedly with Spock about the prospect and how it could work! and what it would mean!

What I’m saying is, Kirk’s gotta be smart and a huge dork because how else could he pull a bad autistic bitch like Spock?

[gdn7-dollopole]

I can’t stop thinking about a poisoned Arthur, who’s not sick with just any poison. Maybe he’s hit by someone with magic and he has no collateral effects, except that of his body slowly dying.

It doesn’t matter if takes years or months or weeks or days, Arthur knows that one day, he will die. He does not get weaker or unable to do things, he just dissipates, and he knows the moment when he’ll be forever gone.

Everybody knows.

Although, there is a cure to his poisoned body, the only one, but Arthur refuses to take it.

Because if he cures himself of the deadly poison, the price to pay is too high:

he will forever forget the person he loves the most, and will never be able to love them again. His memory will be wiped out each time it comes back.

And Arthur doesn’t want to forget Merlin.

Arthur would rather die in the knowledge that he loves him and has known him, than live a life without Merlin by his side, and without his love and care.

[ambrossart]

Good news: I’m finally writing again!

More good news: I’m feeling a lot more confident in my new role and my boss told me I’m doing a great job. I seriously wanted to cry. 😭

Anyway, I’ve finished the outline for the reworked Ch. 32. On paper, it looks a lot better, but we’ll see how it goes when I actually try writing out these cursed scenes.

I also found a fantastic note-taking app to store all my story notes, and I’ve basically created a giant Paper Men wiki (and DWM, I’m making one for that series, too).

I’m kind of obsessed with it.

[focsle]

Something about this little note a whaler added in the margins of his journal gets me.

224 [days out] My book is very damp ink spreads.

Can’t really articulate why but I think it’s something about…the process of reading it now in all its spreading ink, and seeing this little complaint he penned in the moment to explain the ink quality. It‘s a concrete physical link to a little moment in time when this book was new (yet damp) in a fellow’s hands 170 years ago.

[toddtakefive]

thinking about todd and his resolve toward… not quite isolation, but being alone in a room full of people again. he goes along to the study room to sit on his own and do his homework, he sits at the poets table and follows along with what’s being said while keeping quiet, he goes to the meetings at all but doesn’t necessarily contribute (in fact, if you watch him when cameron is telling the story ‘from camp in sixth grade’, you can see that he recognizes it before any of the other poets but doesn’t voice it until they all have). he’s not alone, necessarily, if you want to get technical about it, he’s just lonely, and he’s generally okay with that. he doesn’t have friends and that’s fine, he doesn’t participate in class and that’s fine, he doesn’t have a relationship with his family and that’s fine—he could live without any real connection and he’d have been, more or less, fine.

the thing about when he says “i can take care of myself just fine!” is that he isn’t really wrong, you can infer that he’s been doing it his entire life anyway, it’s that ‘taking care of yourself’ isn’t the same thing as really living or being happy. todd’s an introvert, certainly, and even as he gets closer to the group he defaults to sitting quietly in the background, but he’s also denying himself community out of fear not introversion. todd isn’t friendless because he’s an introvert, although that definitely plays a part, he’s friendless because he pushes anyone that might want his company away. if anyone has every wanted for his attention in the first place. (neil’s unwavering interest in him is unique (even when it comes to the rest of the poets, who are fine with todd coming along and joining the group, but aren’t really hellbent on him being there in the beginning) and his refusal to accept it is a direct result of being so lonely growing up.)

there’s obviously something to be said about the implications of his parents neglect, and the more than likely fact that he grew up friendless, and how those both play a part in in him being so skilled at dodging social interaction/being so avoidant of it, but by the time we see him in the movie he’s all but accepted his fate as being alone his entire life. he’s already accepted being the family disappointment, and he’s already accepted he’ll never amount to anything, and he obviously doesn’t like it, but he’d have managed living with that knowledge without the confirmation that it was all wrong. would he have been miserable? almost certainly. but he’d have managed. he’d done it for that long already, anyhow.

[grimmweepers]

life comes at you so fast

[eeblouissant]

“Am i the only one who thinks diagramming sentences is fun?”

[skyward-floored]

I need to like, blab about writing or AUs or just any kind of actually distracting thing because I feel like I’m gonna explode

[techno-rat]

Im always thinking about the tubbo execution t.b.h.

coz like it sucked for EVERYONE but schlatt and wilbur, who orchestrated it. Techno realized his allies didn’t give a shit about him. Tubbo was killed traumatically. Tommy watched his best friend be murdered by a man who he thought was his ally. The crowd is various levels of shocked depending on their allegiance

[dittanyinbloom]

Fate Aligned

This is a bit strange for me to post here, but it is a second part to this George Weasley x fem!reader fic I made on an old account. Sebastian Sallow heavily influenced me with ideas for a part two. If you want to know why George and reader aren’t going to the Yule Ball with everyone else, read that one first! It’s cute! I promise!

George Weasley x fem! reader. Rated T for a brief make-out session and a few curse words here and there.

summary: You and George manage to lose a total of eighty house points on the night of the Yule Ball which you were not planning on attending because George gave all his money for dress robes to Fred so that at least one of them could go.

(also, the lockets mentioned in this are a little Easter egg for a SebastianxMCxOminis OT3 fic I may or may not be working on called Lover’s Lockets. It’ll probably come out in early summer, but the inspiration to write this first hit me like the Hogwarts Express)

.🍬✨🍬

The younger students that were not able to attend the ball had long since traveled home for the holidays. With everyone else draped in their best and headed for the Great Hall, you and George had the castle to yourselves. The possibilities were endless. Should you sneak into the faculty tower and see what the professors’ rooms looked like? Perhaps you would break into the Headmaster’s office and search for priceless Hogwarts artifacts. Maybe the librarian left the key for the Restricted Section at her desk while she was whisked away to the ball.

Of all the places they could go, George had chosen not only the most boring, most dangerous, but also the most unromantic of them all. Filch’s office was just off the Entrance Hall, which happened to also lead to the Great Hall. Only a couple sets of doors separated the two from being caught.

“Must this be done tonight?” You whispered from behind a giant Christmas tree that decorated the center of the Entrance Hall in front of the doors that lead outside. The Grey Lady was weeping at a statue perched on the upper tier, just a few feet from the door to the Reception Hall where you would find Filch’s office as well as a few stragglers taking a breather outside the Ball.

“They’re candies. We need to get them back and sell them before they go bad. This might be our only opportunity. When else is he going to be this distracted? He bought Ms. Norris a new collar. They’ll both be at the ball.”

“And we’ll both be in detention if your plan goes wrong, which they often do.”

“No, those are always Fred’s plans. Mine work like a charm,” and as he said the last words, he waved his wand and disappeared. The disillusionment charm was something you were becoming to be quite familiar with as of recently. Two boisterous redheads may or may not be the cause of it. You followed in suit, tugging your school robe over your hair and using the charm effortlessly. George smiles at how easily you complied before throwing on his own hood to cover his fiery hair and whispering, his voice low and thick as honey, “Good thinking.”

As soon as the Grey Lady wandered off, the two of you crept up the stairs and peeked through the giant set of wooden doors. The Reception Hall was startlingly empty. The faint sounds of orchestral music looked from beyond the Great Hall’s doors. The display of House Points seemed to have eyes on your back, judging you for your unapproved adventure. You tried not to dwell on the guilt, knowing Gryffindor’s house points would suffer greatly if you get caught.

“Look at that, not a soul in sight. Come on, then. Let’s not waste our luck.”

With the help of Alohomora, the two of you found yourselves in the tiny, dusty space Filch called his office. The walls were lined with cupboards. Knowing the twins had found the Maurader’s map in here their first year, you were sure more extravagant enchantments were stuck inside those drawers, collecting dust and begging to be used. Feeling safe now, you took off your charm and let George see your excitement. He matched your smile and immediately joined you at your side to start sifting through anything and everything.

“Ack!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from the second drawer.

George leaned over you and then laughed at the sight. “Dead rat? Probably lots of those. Ms. Norris does live here too, ya know.”

“Lovely.”

After a few more drawers, you found the familiar, warm brown briefcase the twins had been keeping their experimental treats in. “George, I’ve got them, now we can get the hell out of here.”

“Hold on, look at these!”

“George, really. We should take our winnings and go before someone-“ but the words die on your lips when George pulled the twisted chains of two lockers out of the drawer.

“Lumos,” he whispered to better show off the intricate floral pattern imprinted in the metal. “Think we should have a little reward for our venture, don’t you?”

“I agreed to help you find your treats, but stealing things that aren’t yours, Weasley-“

“Hush. You sound like a Ravenclaw. Always doing things by the book. Pft. Live a little, love.”

Completely derailed and flustered by his nickname for you, you didn’t have the mind to protest him further. Though looking back, you really wish you had. He untangled the lockets and bestowed one upon himself before inching closer to you.

“Be careful!” You whisper yelled. “What if it’s enchanted? Filch must have confiscated them for a reason!”

“Like he stole our taffies for no good reason?”

“He had reason. First years with ten-ton tongues were enough to justify them being taken.”

George flicked open the locket to study it. “Just a compass. Nothing evil about it.”

“Hmph. Well. Fine. I guess. . It would be nice to have a little souvenir.”

“See?“ He gently put the chain around your neck and took a step back, finally letting you breathe only to steal the air right back out of your lungs with his words, “So beautiful.”

The tiny office now felt unbearable. Earlier, you had confessed your feelings for him in not so many words. Whether or not he reciprocated, you weren’t sure. George hadn’t really had much time to respond or even take in your confession before your friends had come back. Since then, you had easily fallen into your usual pattern of playful pranking and chatter. It was easy to forget about your confession until his alluring compliment. The word had fallen off his lips almost breathlessly, a sultry whisper that had your mind alight and playing the moment over in your head.

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful…

It was all you could think about. Your heart ticked nervously and your skin went warm. Did he really think you were beautiful, or was this just the typical Weasley charm the boys often used on girls, and even professors to get people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. You wouldn’t call the twins manipulative, they just... Okay, they could be quite manipulative, but never with malicious intent. Flirting as a way of buttering people up wasn’t exactly a bad thing. You surely didn’t complain when they used their charm on you.

But that was before you had confessed your feelings to George. If Fred had been the one to say it, the word would have rolled off your back like water without a second thought. George, however, was now in the know of the feelings you had been harboring. You almost felt betrayed in a way that he would whisper a sweet nothing like that so carelessly after knowing where your heart lies. Did he just not care? Had he forgotten in the moment? Or was it somehow possible that he returned your feelings and this flirting was now more meaningful than his usual antics?

“We should go,” you said rather stiffly, immediately hating how rude it came off. In your rush out of the office, you forgot how careful you two had to be going in and found yourself bursting into the Reception Hall without even trying to be quiet. “We should get this to safe keeping and then we can do something that’s actually fun.”

“And what might you have in mind?” Professor McGonagall called out from across the hall. She was standing with her husband who had traveled to the castle for the night to accompany her to the ball. His eyes were soft and kind, but he also had an all-knowing smile that was thrown your way. He patted Minerva on top of her hand that he had been holding and then excused himself back to the festivities, letting his wife deal with her troublesome students.

“I-uh.” The briefcase of candies in your hands suddenly felt hot and heavy.

George’s hand landed on your shoulders as he dipped down to whisper right by your ear. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Piss off-,” you uttered back, elbowing him in the stomach rather ungraciously.

“I will take that.” And with the wave of her wand, McGonagall had the case of candies in her hands. “I would send the two of you back to the common room, but it sounds as though I shouldn’t trust you to stay there until the Yule Ball is over.”

“Professor, we-“

“Ten points from each of you for rummaging around Mr. Filch’s office. And since I think it best I keep an eye on you for the rest of the evening... “ She pointed her wand at you with a curt wave. The fabric of your clothes began to wiggle and tickle your skin, swishing all around and changing color until you ended up in a long ivory gown with golden embroidery. George’s clothes were next to change into an ivory button down with a deep red vest decorated in gold buttons, the same gold as your dress. One final silent wave of her wand, this stroke alarmingly familiar… it was Expelliarmus. Both of your wands floated into her open palm.

That night, George had been wearing his only school robe that was still long enough after his recent growth spurt. He couldn’t afford to lose it, in the most literal sense since the price of new robes had gone up greatly over the holiday season and all of his money had gone toward Fred's dress robes for the ball. The loss of that set was detrimental, even in exchange for these fancy clothes. “But, our robes. .”

“If you should wish to have your school robes and wands back before classes, I suggest you find me after the ball. Now, don’t dawdle. In you go.”

Jokingly matching your professor’s air of elegance, George spoke in as proper of a tone he could muster, “If you insist, Professor, but I must have a word with my partner first.”

“Do not make me come looking for you, Mr. Weasley.”

As soon as McGonagall exited into the Great Hall, George’s serious face turned into a bright and mischievous grin, as if you hadn’t just been caught by your Head of House. He dipped into a regal bow and held out a hand to you

Voice still posh and dropping even lower, George kissed your hand and spoke, “It seems as though fate has aligned-“

“Why are you still talking like that?” You giggled.

“Because it’s fun. You must know what fun is, shall I remind you?” Then he was pulling you in close and twirling you in circles, humming along to the faint music coming from behind the grand doors.

“I think,” you managed out between laughs, “-this is exactly what McGonagall meant when she said not to dawdle.” With all you might, you dragged the boy to the doors where he planted his feet and refused to move another inch. “George, what are you doing now?”

“We can’t go in there, silly. I haven’t even asked you yet.”

Those pesky nerves were bubbling back. You tried to swallow them down. “You’re ridiculous. We’re here. McGonagall’s forced us into these clothes. You don’t have to ask at this point. We aren’t- it’s not like we’re going by choice, I mean-“

Ignoring your endearing mumbling, George gently took your chin to make your eyes meet his as he asked, “Will you do me the honors of being the only bloke you dance with at the Yule Ball?”

“As long as you promise to crash us into all the Slytherin couples with your atrocious leading.”

“That’s a given.” He held out his arm for you to hold onto before walking you into the Great Hall where you were very fashionably late.

Decorated from enchanted ceilings all the way down to sparkling floors, the Great Hall was completely transformed into a winter wonderland. The ceiling was cloudy with snowflakes trickling down, sadly designed to never fall. It was always astonishing how the magic encapsulated the exact look of the weather, but never the temperature. Perhaps the frigid cold of the snow would have been welcome tonight because the hall was surprisingly warm from all the bodies dancing about.

The four center tables had vanished in favor of a large dance floor. The platform professors sat at was being used as a stage for a live band that was currently playing a jovial waltz. The corners of the hall were filled with refreshment tables and smaller, more personal round tables for groups to have a break from the excitement.

You scanned the room for your friends but immediately regretted doing so when your eyes landed on Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet. It seemed you had witnessed a rather intimate moment of Lee kissing Alicia’s knuckles, and then the back of her hand, and then her inner wrist, and then. . You quickly looked away, clearing your throat.

“You’ve got to be joking,” George muttered to himself. He was patting down his vest and dress pants. Turning his pockets inside out, he was presented with piles of sand. “It seems McGonagall transfigured away the dungbombs and fireworks as well.”

“Oh no,” you replied sarcastically, “How ever will we survive?”

“I suppose we will have to dance to pass the time,” George played along as he dragged you to the center of the hall. Once there, he adjusted the hold on your hand to one where your fingers were interlocking. While many other dance partners were doing the same, it still felt strikingly intimate, even more so when his other hand landed on your hip to draw you in close. You lightly placed your free one on his shoulder, mimicking a very cordial and proper stance.

You weren’t able to maintain your posture long, because George whizzed across the dance floor at an alarming speed. Your hand had slipped from the feather of a touch in his shoulder down to his bicep where you clung on for dear life. His hand was meant to stay on your hip had snaked to the small of your back, making it much easier to swing you to and fro. How he had managed to step on other couples’ toes but not your own was a mystery.

Actually, it was probably deliberate considering two of George’s victims had been a Slytherin boy from your year and a boy from Beauxbatons that had both previously asked you to accompany them. The true mystery was how George managed to find out who exactly you had turned down so that he could target them.

Then you were being pulled to him to avoid your backside slamming to the Durmstrang Headmaster. There had been no warning, so you stubbled into George ungracefully with your cheek pressing into his chest as you let out a string of bubbly, nervous laughter. The hand on the small of your back had drifted all the way to your opposite hip now, holding you up, but also holding you so tightly against him that you had nowhere to go. Not that you could step back even if you wanted to with your faulty feet.

“S’cuse us,” George slyly offered to the terrifying man as he brisked you off in another direction.

“Sorry!” You had to call to the man over your shoulder since George had you gone in a flash.

George mumbled only for you to hear, “No need to apologize to him. You never actually ran into him. I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe so, but we did give him a heart attack. And if you’re so aware of your actions, then why did you nearly just have me expelled?”

“All a ploy to get you closer to me.” His hand squeezed your hip for emphasis. “See? I can be quite romantic.”

“Falling into you is hardly romantic.”

“Oh, so you’re falling for me?”

“Did I not already make that obvious?” You had planned to play the words off as a joke, but George’s stiff reaction made it difficult. The tension only worsened when you found yourself at a standstill in the middle of the dance floor. George let go of your hip. You tried to escape your interlocked hands, but George tightened his grip, not letting you step too far away.

“We should talk about that,” George rarely sounded as serious as he did now, and the times when he had were never for good reason.

You winced at his tone. It was clear to you now that George didn’t feel the same. All the dancing and touching, it was all just in good fun. Nothing he ever did was meant to be analyzed. There was no reading between the lines. You were foolish to even try.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry to bring it up. I was only joking.” But the tightening feeling in your throat set in. It broke your heart to lie.

“You responded too quick to be joking, and besides, I-“

“Please, forget it. And forget what I said earlier,” Your voice diminished to nearly a whisper and you looked down at your feet lamely. “-I didn’t mean it, okay? Let’s just go back to having fun.”

George finally released your hand so that he could cup your face on both sides, forcing you to look back up at him. His brows softly pulled together. There was even a hint of a frown across his lips, a very foreign look on the prankster. “You’re an awful liar.”

“I’m not-“ you choked on your words, trying to hold back the sobs bubbling in your throat. “Just dance with me, George.”

“Ridiculous,” he huffed in disbelief. His hand wrapped around your upper arm to guide you toward the courtyard adjacent to the hall. You were still fighting the tears, refusing to let anyone see how much of a mess you truly were.

“You’re here! Brilliant!” Fred popped up just before the two of you made it out, placing both his hands on George’s shoulders to shake him in excitement. This in turn caused George to let you go, so you were thankful for Fred's intrusion. “Let me guess, you saw him run out to the courtyard too? Thinks he’s sneaky, that one. Well, he can’t escape all of us, eh?”

Fred and George did not disagree often, but this was one of those rare times George was putting his foot down. “This isn’t the time, mate.”

“This is the perfect time! What’s he gonna do to us with all these people as witnesses? Bagman doesn’t have the balls to pull something here.”

The name seemed to change George’s demeanor. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction. You knew of the antics Ludo Bagman pulled on the twins at the World Cup. This would be the perfect time to approach him, Fred wasn’t wrong. He just had absolute shite timing.

“Let’s go get his arse,” you proclaimed, jumping at the opportunity to avoid the awkward ‘I’m just not that into you’ conversation that George was no doubt planning to have with you out in that courtyard.

Fred’s grin spread across his face wildly. “Oh, how lucky Georgie is to have you. Angelina is livid I’m doing this. Knew I should have asked you as my date instead. And you clean up nicely too, I mean, look at you two.” And Fred did take a moment to give your dress a proper once over. His eyes landed on the locket around your neck and then flickered to the matching one his brother was sporting. “Now where in Merlin did you two nick those?”

Normally, George would jump at the opportunity to brag, but he was being oddly quiet. You spoke up in his place, “Filch’s office. McGonagall caught us stealing back your candies. She took those, but I don’t think she knew about these. . .”

Fred whistled lowly, clearly impressed, “You two have been busy. And I’ve just been here trying to dance like a babbling, bumbling, baboon!” His McGonagall impression was getting quite good.

You promptly followed Fred toward the courtyard. George seemed to drag his feet behind you. Eventually, you made it to the array of carriages the guests had arrived in that evening. A few groups of people were scattered about, chatting in the fresh air. Goosebumps instantly littered your arms and shoulders, but you welcomed the sensation. It was like jumping in a cold shower after that heated moment between you and George.

Fred wasted no time approaching his enemy with his arms raised in a faux welcoming stance. “I don’t believe my eyes! If it isn’t Ludo Bagman, old friend. How have you been?”

Bagman had been talking to an older, gruff-looking wizard you did not know. They both examined Fred quizzically, intrigued that a student would approach them in such a way. You moved to stand beside Fred, but George had stepped in first, crossing his arms and smiling at the two older wizards as if that alone was a threat. And it seemed to come across that way with how painfully obvious it was that his smile was forced.

George was quick to join in on Fred’s jovial greetings as well, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. When was our last chat? Remind me, Fred.”

“Oh, George, I do believe the last time we saw Ludo was during the Quidditch World Cup. You remember, don’t you?”

“Ah! Yes! I remember that night quite well. We won a pretty hefty bet, didn’t we, Fred?”

“That we did, George. That we did. Say, George, we still haven’t gotten the money from that, have we?”

“You would have been paid if you didn’t cheat,” Ludo sneered.

“We didn’t cheat,” George said through his teeth, immediately offended that he would even need to defend their honor against such a statement.

“You just want to keep the money for yourself,” Fred threw in offense.

Bagman’s eyes narrowed. “If the Weasley clan was known for their integrity, perhaps I would take you at your word. Now, quit wasting my time with this.” He looked to his companion and then nodded for the doors. They both turned to leave. Fred reached into his pocket for his wand, but you caught his wrist.

“Snape,” you whispered as the professor sauntered out into the courtyard.

“Bastard,” Fred murmured. You dropped his wrist, assuming he would put away his wand so as to not draw suspicion. Instead, Fred lifted his wrist and cast the disillusionment charm on himself. The motion was automatic at the mention of Snape. All you could hear was his hushed whisper. “What are you two doing? Let’s go before he questions us.”

George met your terrified eyes, looking rather pale himself. McGonagall had taken your wands. It seemed as though you were going to have to face Snape head-on.

“Fuck it,” George whispered as he grabbed you yet again, heaving you into the nearest carriage. You scrambled in with George following so close behind that he was nearly on top of you. The skirt of your dress had twisted and risen from all the movement. George planted himself on the bench next to you, mumbling apologies for nearly squashing you.

“How the hell are we-“

“Whisper!” George uttered. No wand, no ability to cast muffalo. The two of you would have to wait this out in silence. He pressed his ear to the side of the carriage and then looked very alarmed as he whispered, “Can hear him talking with Bagman and that other piece of muck.”

You tried smoothing down your skirt, but it was tangled horribly underneath you. Instead of offering to help or apologizing for the inconvenience, George merely followed the frantic movement of your hands. His eyes lingered over your exposed knee.

The sheer stupidity of your night was hitting you hard. Your jaw clenched in annoyance. If you hadn’t followed Fred to the courtyard, if you hadn’t made that stupid comment while dancing, if you hadn’t gone with George to Filch’s office, if you had never admitted you wanted to go to the bloody ball with him in the first place. .

“Lift yourself up,” he whispered, elbowing your arm.

You pouted in confusion, but gently lifted yourself up with both palms pressed into the bench of the carriage. George swiftly smoothed the fabric under you, meaning his hands had to skim over your backside and underneath you. Your breath caught in your throat at how nonchalant he acted. Once the underneath was straightened out, he pulled down the top to finally hid your exposed knee.

“Better?"

“You should warn a girl before grabbing her arse, Weasley.”

“I only did it so you’d stop fidgeting. Snape will know someone is in here if the cart is shaking.”

Any response you might have had died on your lips. Images of what sort of actions would make the carriage shake flashed across your mind. Your face felt uncomfortably hot, embarrassed that you couldn’t control the thoughts you were having about your best friend whilst sitting right next to him.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft and sincere, only making you feel more guilty for your own track mind. “I really should tell you-“

“Save it,” you begged. Merlin, you couldn’t hear the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech while you were shamefully thinking of making the carriage rock. You would die of embarrassment if he turned you down at this very moment.

“I don’t want to save it,” he seethed. “Don’t know where you got the bloody impression that I’m going to turn you down but damn it, I said I would have been the first to ask you if I had the money for robes. I didn’t mean that in a platonic way. Thought that much was obvious.”

He sounded cross with you, but his words were a confession of sorts. You studied his features. His hands were opening and closing. He was biting the inside of his cheeks. His eyes couldn’t meet yours for more than half a second before darting to the floor of the carriage.

“You like me,” you whispered in awe.

George didn’t seem to notice you shift closer, too lost in his own demise. “Look, I know I’m a fucking idiot. You said you wanted a night of fun and dancing, the ball gets dropped into our lap perfectly, and I go and ruin it by getting you stuck in a carriage. I’ve been told my whole life I don’t know when to quit. It didn’t mean shite to me until now that it’s affecting you. I got us into this. I should have told Fred to bugger off, but he and I just feed off each other’s insanity and-“

Your hands guided his face toward you so your lips could feverishly crash into him. From the shock of your hold, George’s hands wrapped around your wrists almost like he might pull you off. His entire body shivered from the feeling of your lips over his. It was heated and messy right from the start because his mouth had been open from talking.

George melted into you, matching your fever and even raising the stakes by taking your bottom lip between his teeth. He was being gentle, playful even, but it still had your arse lifting off the bench and rolling onto your knee so you could lean in further to his pull. His hands moved in quick now that the opportunity arose. They trailed down your back, smoothing the dress over your backside much slower this time, deliberately stroking to get their fill before reaching the underneath of your thighs where his fingers shamelessly pressed into your soft flesh to pull you closer until you were dragged onto his lap.

You broke away to gasp with your hands landing on his shoulders to steady yourself. His mouth went for your exposed collarbone, kissing from one shoulder to the next and swiping the chain of your new locket out of the way to thoroughly get every inch of skin. You thought he would go for your neck next, but instead, his lips traveled down toward the exposing, sweetheart neckline of your dress.

The door to the carriage swung open on your right. Professor Snape glared at the two of you. George had not removed his hands from your waist, so you just smiled sheepishly at your potions professor from George’s lap.

“What on earth do you think you two are doing? Out. Now.”

Rather reluctantly despite the ridicule, George helped you off of him so the two of you could crawl out of the carriage. As soon as your feet were on solid ground, Snape was firing off punishments.

“Thirty points from each of you. A week’s detention with Hagrid tending to the Forbidden Forest should be enough to make you regret this awful choice you’ve made. Back to the Great Hall, now.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laughter threatening to burst out and double your detentions. Snape keenly watched the two of you drag your feet back to the ball. “Hands to yourself, Weasley,” he drones when George had tried to put his hand on the small of your back to guide you. Once the two of you were heading inside, Snape moved to the next carriage to end a different couple’s impromptu snog session.

“That was horrifying,” you grimaced at the thought of facing Snape in your next class.

“Was my kissing that bad?” George mused.

You playfully slapped his chest, “Sod off. You know what I meant. I’ll never be able to look Snape in the eye again.”

“I’m sure he’s witnessed worse. Hell, he probably is witnessing worse as we speak. The others were in their carriages far longer than we were.”

And yet George still managed to look like a complete mess. His lips were bright red, matching the flush he still wore on his cheeks. His hair was staticky and wild, not at all fitting for the ball you were walking back into. You waved him over, insisting, “Come ‘ere. You can’t go back there looking like this.”

A lazy smile plastered across George’s rosy cheeks. His eyes shamelessly studied your serious look of concentration as you tried to smooth down his wild locks. “Think people are gonna know what we did no matter how long you play with my hair.”

His fingers swiped over your collarbone, pressing harder on the red, sensitive spots that were definitely going to bruise later. A shiver ran down your back. You would have to remember to down a healing potion tonight that way you didn’t wake up and go about your day tomorrow, forgetting how scandalous you looked.

“Quit making them worse.” You smacked his hand away. “I can’t believe you did that while I’m stuck in this stupid dress with no robes to hide it. You’re devious.”

“You’re the one who started it,” George challenged.

“Must all your comebacks be childish?”

“You find them endearing,” he teased. “Merlin, can’t believe we could have been doing that ages ago. Do you think McGonagall would notice if we slipped back to the common room to make up for lost time?”

“I’m not taking any chances while she still has my wand. Besides, we hardly got to dance!” You took his hand and pulled him into the hall. “There are more Slytherins that need to be run into.”

[hana-bobo-finch]

live footage of me Stockholm Syndrome-ing people I know into caring about my interests so I have someone to yap to