#but it was neat to see it all compiled in one place (in the past i've had to research across multiple

[transxfiles]

as we near the end of december (at least, as i see it in my mind) i'm reflecting on the year and i think one of the top 10 moments was when i was standing in the mega walmart books section and i found a kid's chapter book titled "what is the story of scooby doo?" and it was the day after i learned that z-library was shut down and i wasn't willing to pay like 10 bucks for a book i would finish in like 30 minutes so i stood in the store and genuinely considered taking a picture of every page in the book so i could read it later

[its-a-ducky-mess]

Speculation: Sarah's Potential Neurodivergency

Some certain viewers and fans of Sarah & Duck have posed a certain question over time. So much so, that it's even one of Google's autocomplete results and one of the suggestions when you so much as look up the show or its characters. That question being...

"Is Sarah autistic?"

While (to my knowledge, and at the time of writing this) no staff of the show have put out an official word, some fans have theorized based on evidence seen in the show that Sarah is in fact autistic/neurodivergent. One such user is @beenovel, an autistic individual, whose theorizing has gotten me to do some of my own research over time as well. I will be paraphrasing and using their evidence here, marked by "quoted italics". I do not mean to steal their evidence or their work, but using it to compile a stronger collection of evidence for this theory/headcanon. Please check out their original analysis here.

As a warning, this post is incredibly long.

Clothing

"She has comfort clothes. A lot of cartoon characters wear the same outfit over and over again but Sarah is shown to have other clothes, she just likes her outfit best. When one of her shoes gets a hole she is very upset about the prospect of replacing them. I also like to think that the reason she’s always wearing her beanie is because (like me) she finds the pressure on her head comforting."

The shoe point is from Tapping Shoes. More about this will be elaborated on later, although it is worth mentioning that Sarah tried to play off the damage to her favorite shoes in order to keep them before being convinced to look for new ones.

While it's unknown as to her exact attachment to her pink jacket, Sarah has been shown to prize it. When the zip pull breaks off of it, she becomes incredibly upset and near-unresponsive. So much so, that Duck had to push a whimpering Sarah all the way to Scarf Lady's house in Haber Dasher.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 37, Haber Dasher]

When at her door, Sarah could only muster a heart-broken "Zip..." as she presents it to Scarf Lady. When Scarf Lady's solution doesn't work, Sarah sighs in resignation and hides behind a curtain.

Sarah's beanie/cap/hat is near and dear to her, as seen in Balloon Barnacles where she is upset over the possibility of losing her very first hat made for her by Scarf Lady. She's also had the hat long enough for it to appear (potentially) years earlier in the past, during the flashback in Duck Flies. The head pressure idea actually does have some more ground to it. During Cloud Tower, which takes place on a hot day, Sarah doesn't wear her jacket, but keeps the hat. Also in Doubles, in her tennis outfit, she actually does forgo the hat, but replaces it with a headband. This give a neat amount of credence to the pressure angle.

Favorites

"Her hyperfixations are sea cows (also known as manatees) and lemons. In one episode they are going to the zoo to see the sea cows and she mentions it’s been five days since they last visited the sea cows and the narrator replies with “[the sea cow]’s probably [wondering] where we’ve been”. This implies they often visit the zoo just to see the sea cows. For me, I was obsessed with otters... there was this one aquarium I used to go to... and it was my favorite place to go, even as an older teenager. I can watch them for hours and be perfectly happy, and Sarah seems to be the same way."

This moment is at the beginning of Paisley Sea. (This episode also contributes to another theory I'll post about later!) The zoo and aquariums are a frequent setting for certain episodes. Apart from having a poster of a sea cow in her bedroom, Sarah was upset at not getting the chance to adopt a sea cow during Basking Shark, seemingly disappointed at having to settle for the titular shark. Sarah also practically explodes with happiness upon seeing a baby sea cow during Paisley Sea.

[Source: Series 2, Episode 17, Paisley Sea]

In addition, every visit to the zoo that's occurred, Sarah has sought out the sea cow and greeted it at least once, if even for a moment. One such occurrence is in Planetarium Aquarium, where she even went back to say it was "still her favorite" and giving it a thumbs up despite not visiting them for a proper amount of time.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 15, Planetarium Aquarium] This is also a very adorable screenshot.

"She also has lemon water all the time. I don’t know if that’s a common British thing, but I know that my mom and I (both autistic) prefer our water with lemon in it because it adds flavor and makes it easier to stay hydrated."

Lemons remain a very present theme/motif throughout the show even outside of the lemon water drink.

[Sources: Series 2, Episode 13, Shallot Circus (top) | Series 1, Episode 32, Puncture Pump (bottom)]

Sarah has a lemon themed telephone, bike valve covers, and had difficulty picking a singular item from the cafe's menu in Lemon Cafe (although being on a very short time limit didn't help), let alone pick a drink. In the same episode, she goes through a lot of work to make her own lemon cafe. Sarah is the sole human enjoyer of lemon water within the show, and solely during Lemon Cafe, she seems disappointed when Duck, Umbrella, and Bug dislike lemon water, and seemingly doesn't understand why exactly they don't like it like she does. I say "human enjoyer" because Flamingo during Scared of Stairs drinks and likes lemon water, much to Sarah's enjoyment.

[Source: Series 1, Episode 30, Scared of Stairs]

Learning

"She loves learning things and pretty much every time she has a question that her dad the narrator can’t answer she looks it up on the computer or goes to the library to find out more. She gets very upset if she can’t find a satisfactory answer."

While I am personally a "NarraDad" truther as well (Despite the evidence which I'll discuss along with the theory in a future post, maybe), that's not the point here.

There are many points where Sarah will look something up on the computer in the technology room for answers, such as in Slow Quest and Tortoise Snooze. Sarah is also a frequent library visitor, and a few episodes take place there or are visited for a part of them (such as Cheer Up Donkey or Lost Librarian, to name a few).

Sarah also repeats back certain words or phrases sometimes (like repeating 'shokupan' from John during Fluff Bread), which beenovel says is how autistic children learn inflection, and hypothesizes this is a vocal stim for Sarah. She often mispronounces words, new or otherwise. Such as, saying "burger" instead of burglar (Constable Quack), "elephants" instead of eloquent (Mountain Mints), and "eyes, sky, dry" instead of "eins, zwei, drei", which is "one, two, three" in German (Woolly Memories, Duck Hotel). Possibly the funniest of these examples is Sarah pronouncing "itadakimasu", a Japanese phrase said before you begin eating, as "it's a ducky mess" (which is where I get my blog's handle from!!) during Fast Slow Bungalow. Sarah also clearly pronounces "hello" and "yes" as hullo and yus. Merchandise and social media confirms that she says them with a U as opposed to their proper versions. She also combines "it's nice" into "s'nice" at times, even to the point where the Narrator says s'nice and has to correct himself (Bench Blocked). "Suppose" also gets this treatment, sometimes sounding like "s'pose"

[Sources: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgYt4c2yHWQ | https://shop.sarahandduck.com/collections/art-prints-1/products/sarah-duck-a-z-art-print-sdaz]

On the topic of "proper" things, during Extra Bounce, Sarah and friends are brought to a room within the bouncy ball machine that houses unusually bouncing balls. The Narrator remarks "This must be the room for all the balls that don't bounce properly." Sarah then looks a bit upset and replies with a corrective/offended "Bounce differently."

beenovel writes "Autistic children are often upset at the prospect of toys or animals being treated differently just because they don’t do things the “right” way or are perceived as “broken”.

Sound Sensitivity

Tapping Shoes comes back into play here. Sarah sometimes shows an aversion/discomfort with certain noises, most prevalent being sudden, unexpected noise. In Tapping Shoes, when she unknowingly wore tap-dancing shoes and walked into the tiled kitchen, she became surprised and covered her ears first thing. She tried to quiet/muffle them, trying to get them to not make any sound until she's told that they're supposed to make sound. Before entering the noisy carriage in Train Fudge, she recoils back due to the noise and again, covers her ears first thing.

To link to another few point beenovel makes, Sarah becomes frustrated when others don't follow along with her games, such as her idea for her birthday in The Mouse's Birthday. Throughout the episode, all she wants is a quiet birthday, but is constantly annoyed and upset when her friends are loud, so much so that she retreats to the closet to escape the noise. beenovel states they've done this on multiple occasions as well.

Focus, Concentrate! /ref

Sarah has sometimes displayed inattentiveness and lack of focus, even when she's "supposed" to be focused.

"This is a common little kid trait but it’s more intense in autistic kids."

A possible instance of this is in Perimeter Pals, where while waiting for Tortoise to finish crossing their biking path, Sarah and Duck elect to take a break. They then nap for much longer than anticipated and have to scramble ahead to continue their park trip.

Funny Duck

"She’s taken an interest in an “odd” animal companion, and treats him more like a sibling than a pet."

Sarah may have a hyperfixation on ducks as well, in no small part due to Duck's presence in her life. Apart from her shirt and pajamas featuring ducks on them, she has a Duck shaped window in her house, as well as having a Duck costume already made and prepared before she even had the idea to swap with Duck during The Play.

[Sources: Series 1, Episode 3, Cheer Up Donkey | Series 1, Episode 35, The Play]

She is also very emotionally attached to Duck and becomes downtrodden at the possibility of not being around him for a long period of time. She dearly misses Duck for the short time they're apart during Duck Flies, almost unable to fathom doing anything without him.

[Source: Series 2, Episode 40, Duck Flies]

This feeling of togetherness seems to go both ways, as when Duck does come back at the end of the episode, the Narrator remarks "It seems Duck missed you too."

The Bench

Sarah is strongly attached to a specific bench in the park. She treats this bench incredibly seriously. When highlighting various parts of town, she holds the bench to a higher regard than a playground (Outside Outside). Sarah doesn't like going to other nearby parks because they lack the bench (Fancy Park), and gets very upset when something prevents them from sitting there, such as a fairground obscuring it (Fairground), or a sleeping teenager (Bench Blocked). Duck, without any word from anyone, offers to bite the teenagers leg of his own volition, which Sarah gives him the okay to do. The Narrator has to interrupt Duck, and Sarah is shown with an excited look right before Duck is about to bite. When the Narrator wonders if there's other places to sit, Sarah shakes her head "no", and gives a hesitant, begrudging headshake when the Narrator pressed her if they've actually tried to look for a place.

[Source: Series 3, Episode 14, Bench Blocked]

Later in the same instance, Sarah herself tries to bite the guy but is stopped by a squirrel. Sarah and Duck sit on the bench even while the paint on it is still wet, and are so relieved that they can sit there that they don't notice the paint on them (Fancy Park). Likely the reason Sarah likes the bench so much is because she met Duck there when she was younger (Duck Flies).

Making Friends

Going back to friends, she seems a bit awkward when meeting real people. Inanimate objects or animals, not so much. She meets Rainbow, the celestial bodies, Cake, Bug, Umbrella, Leftover Wool, and more and seems nonplussed about it. In contrast, when she meets John and Flamingo during Doubles, she walks back into her yard after exchanging neutral greeting with an awkward pause, and without the Narrator prodding, likely would've not continued a conversation. In addition, she confuses John for a girl and Flamingo for a duck, likely trying to make sense out of the new people using herself and Duck as reference. John sounded like he had a higher voice when he said hello to Sarah, so maybe she just assumed John was a girl by that. Sarah also seems a bit awkward with adults she isn't familiar with/hasn't met yet, like Music Lady and Cloud Captain, though that might just be a common kid trait.

Organization and Spontaneity

"She likes having things be organized and in their place. She also likes categorizing/matching colors."

"She enjoys looking for things. Many episodes start with [Sarah] and [D]uck looking for things like crunchy leaves, green patches of grass, things that match the colors on her color wheel, fluffy clouds, etc."

Sarah has rows of identical hats in her closet, her tuba is always seen in her room when it's not being used, and she has a drawer full of her previous drawings in the living room (Picture Planes). The color wheel point references Rainbow's Niece. Cheer Up Donkey begins with Sarah and Duck counting grass in their back garden.

Sudden interest in random things is also a trait Sarah exhibits. She often declares things to be good, saying "this one is best" or similar. Octagon Club is the best example, she sees an octagon in a shapes book, and goes to find things around the area that's octagonal. She forms the titular Octagon Club and quickly invites many other friends into it.

Literal-mindedness

Sarah often takes some of the Narrator's jokes or metaphors seriously. Either that, or the jokes completely fly over her head. Kite Flight provides this exchange:

Narrator: What we need is a windbreak.

Sarah: Don't break the wind, we need it!

Mountain Mints also has this:

Sarah: The mint's at the top!

Narrator: Fine, why not… Perhaps I'll find a nice chocolate log cabin.

Sarah: [excitedly:] Ooh!

Stimming

Sarah, when excited, sometimes does this sort of shaky-fists gesture close to her face, usually accompanied by an excited 'oooh!' or other hushed surprised sounds. She does it a few more times in the series, but at this moment, other examples are escaping me.

[Sources: Series 1, Episode 1, Lots of Shallots | Series 3, Episode 11, Fluff Bread]

Smaller tidbits I couldn't really fit anywhere else

She also sometimes does things in a formulaic fashion. Whenever she steps in snow or crunchy leaves, Sarah remarks "good crunch" (Seacow Snow Trail, Mountain Mints, Boo Night, among others) and becomes upset at Duck (albeit only for a brief moment) when he crunches some leaves in the path faster than her (Boo Night). She has commented "good crunch" since early childhood, as seen in Duck Flies.

Sarah originally would've kept her hair long and grown out simply because Scarf Lady didn't give her a good hair cut the "last time" during Hair Cut. She keeps trying to avoid it by preoccupying herself, and when she does eventually go to a salon, she tries to get Duck to take her place and admits that she's scared to the stylist. All in all, she lets a bad experience get the better of her and makes her catastrophize when trying something again.

Sometimes Sarah does things only she herself would like. One example I could think of is Cheer Up Donkey. Sarah played the tuba, which Donkey didn't like, but she was so into playing the tuba that it took the shouting of the Narrator for her to stop. When asked to try something that cheers her up and what makes her happy a short time after that, she immediately grabs the tuba again and has to be preemptively stopped before playing it again.

One more attachment related point similar to previous interests. Something ends up wrong with Sarah's tuba during Music Fixer, so she goes to the Music Shop to get it checked out. Music Lady tells her that she can hear what instruments think and that her tuba was saying it was too small for her (though that was just Bug). Sarah gets upset over having to replace her favorite instrument with something else and ends up not finding something that suits her before the episode's resolution.

As a final, sort of funny thing, Sarah is friends with a rainbow, and the rainbow lemniscate is the symbol of neurodiversity.

To my current knowledge I am not on the autism spectrum, and for that I do not wish to seem like I'm speaking on behalf of the autistic community. I do have ADHD however, which I was recently diagnosed with (I recognize those two are not the same thing). Thinking back on my childhood, a lot of Sarah's behaviors struck chords with my behaviors. Especially the sound sensitivity and lack of understanding with plans, those two were very prominent growing up, and the sound portion is still somewhat of an issue for me right now. Regardless of if Sarah is "canonically" autistic/neurodivergent, fans can interpret the cast of characters however they want, and I think it's sweet for kids watching Sarah & Duck to be almost represented in a way. It's also very nice that Sarah is never treated differently nor excluded from things because of her mannerisms. She's Sarah, and Sarah is s'nice.

[purplekoop]

Something else I found out while looking into that big Hero 42 theory and all the links supporting it: the wiki is wrong about something! Well. Not wrong entirely, but missed something.

Streamer Mode is a setting made for (you're not gonna believe this) streamers in order to avoid being harassed in-game by stream snipers. Part of what it does is hide the user's in-game name by replacing it with a bunch of randomized options, almost all of which are references to characters, voice lines, in-world factions, community jokes and memes, some community game modes, or even some obscure references, like the name of the mech from Volskaya Industries or... the fact the SFX for the Moira Mythic were made using a glove full of macaroni? The wiki compiles all of these, and it's an astoundingly comprehensive list, with all but a very select few names being given an explanation that's, if not obvious, at least probable.

However, when both looking for reference images for hero 42 and browsing the list myself in response to that theory, I found the wiki misunderstood one reference! Specifically, the explanation for the name xXSwordMadamXx.

From the wiki:

Now, it is qualified with a "possibly", as the only woman with any established sword skill that most players know of in the OW world is Kiriko's mom (the one who trained her and the Shimadas, fearsome enough apparently to even be on Doomfist's radar).

But, believe it or not, there's a character in the world of Overwatch literally just called "Sword Madam", and you've probably seen her in passing if you've played in the past year:

She's one of the fighters advertised on those terminals in New Junk City! Given how other names reference similarly niche map details (like the coffee place or Egg House cafe in New Queen Street) I doubt this means much, but it's still a neat detail. I mean I sure as hell wouldn't complain if I had see more of her, but not getting my hopes up, especially with both how similar she looks to Junker Queen in build and how historically the devs have struggled with melee-only characters.

I don't have a Fandom account (and don't plan to), but if anyone would like to correct this then the "everything must be correct always" freak in me would appreciate if you did it on my behalf. Here's the article in case anyone's curious:

(note that I use a basic URL extension that declutters Fandom wiki articles, so free bonus tip from me: just replace "fandom" with "antifandom" in the URL to make these sites usable!)

[pickerelstripe]

Hiya! Recently I've been trying my hand at creating some FanClans. They're based in a setting inspired by the Taal Volcano and lake region in my native Philippines. Super super excited over developing it but also a tiny bit nervous! Could you perhaps give some insight/tips on how you developed ClayClan? I'd be really grateful if you did 🥹 I'm a tiny bit overwhelmed and don't know where to start.

P.S: here are some cool photos of Taal+some extra info below bc I'm a nerd and can't help myself lol

Where's the volcano, you may ask? The answer to that is: it's the lake you see in the photos! Basically Taal erupted so much in prehistoric times that the rock collapsed inward+downward into the empty magma chambers, forming a bowl shape (otherwise known as a caldera). It's also got like, a fuckton of vents and craters that it also erupts out of too sometimes. She's funky and I like her!

tldr volcanoes and cats r pretty neat :3

WOAH that's so cool!!! :0 This is awesome, thanks so much for sharing! I loooove seeing unique fanClans, it's such a versatile prompt. And a caldera is a GREAT setting! What a pretty one, too!

As for advice... I've been making fancontent for Warriors for a decade now, so a lot of it just comes naturally. I'll explain how I made ClayClan then give some tips I find helpful! And thank you for asking, I'm really flattered :]

(Info + tips below the cut to keep this from being a huge text wall!)

ClayClan started as a worldbuilding project to support a story I was tossing around in my head. At the time, this story was unnamed and followed Minkpaw, a new apprentice who joins the Clan and unravels a mystery.

At this point I only knew it was set in a swamp. I like taking reference from National Parks, so I started searching for Parks with swamps, and after some googling I found out Arcadia National Park has a ton of wetlands! So I started compiling a species list. As I worked I gradually switched the model region from Arcadia to a general Maine wetland, as this was more appealing to me.

Once I had that together, I started working on ClayClan's culture. This was largely a matter of tossing ideas at the wall and seeing what stuck! I wanted there to be a new rank between warriors & deputy, so I gave them captains. I like exploring religions unique from canon's StarClan, so I gave them the pantheon. I couldn't decide if I wanted their camp to be in the woods or by the lake, so I gave them two camps. Once I had down my base ideas, I just refined them until they felt complete, and since then I've been adding fun tidbits to my own liking.

As I worked, I realized that Pickerelstripe - a supporting character in the original story, as Minkpaw's mentor - was much more interesting to me than Minkpaw herself. So I decided to switch the story to her perspective, and it began developing into the Heart Rot that I love!

With this switch came a change in tone, as Heart Rot is much darker and more serious than my early plans. So I made some worldbuilding changes to fit! ClayClan's religion solidified, kepbon sculptures came into existence, that sort of thing. I'm still making tweaks here and there to tighten everything up.

Okay! Thanks for sticking with me through all of that, here's some random tips! :D

A good place to start is with location! I'm a total nerd about ecosystems, so I like to make my Clan territories as close to their real-world inspirations as possible. iNaturalist is a great reference for finding species in a specific area! Google is also your friend, and I've even used physical field guides in the past. It's a really fun process and enriches your knowledge of the real world - win-win!

Of course, not everyone's interested in this level of detail, and that's all good! I would, however, recommend having an idea of your Clan's territory and the types of animals/plants they regularly encounter. It can be a good springing-off point for worldbuilding! Take ClayClan's bobcat lore as an example, that came directly from wanting to do something cool with bobcats being in Maine.

Is this worldbuilding for a story? If so, what story are you trying to tell? Try and focus on worldbuilding that will affect the plot and see where it leads from there. For example, if your story focuses on family ties, you can explore how your fanClan views family!

Does your inspiration region have any interesting history? If so, you could try and tie it into your Clan's mythos! For example, the setting you've got makes me really curious about how your Clan views the caldera, and all its vents & craters. Do they believe the caldera has always been there? Do they have some lore about the ancient volcano? How do they rationalize the vents? There's lots to explore!

What do you want to see expanded on in Clan culture? The rank system, naming, religion, social structure, etc? Go ahead and change them to your liking, then see how that impacts the world! This is your Clan, after all, play with it how you'd like.

Focus on what's interesting to you! At the end of the day, this is your project, and you should enjoy working on it. If something doesn't interest you like it used to, you can take a break from it and find a different focus, or toss that part entirely and start over. Do what makes you happy!

I hope this is helpful! Sorry for rambling haha. Thank you so much for sharing your new Clan, I wish you the best of luck with developing it :] If you end up sharing any more on Tumblr feel free to send it to me, I'd love to see what you come up with! Have a great day/night!

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 1:

Everybody Wants To Rule THEIR World Ch 7:

Summary:

"You need only close your eyes to it and be happy and safe with us."

The Keeper (player) has already secured the repository and Sebastian's loyalty, emboldening his descent into darkness. Now, they just need to win over Ominis, cure Anne, and create a domain to call their own.

And not necessarily in that order.

The Keeper's tale, a post-game story of a morally-grey, pragmatic, Chaotic Neutral, non-binary, muggleborn, orphan player character, so burned by 1800s orphanages, that they became a power hoarder who demands more payment for quests, burns paintings but doesn't want to rule the world, just their own territory and the two boys who'd caught their eye.

Warnings: This chapter contains smut!

Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Spoilers! Dark content! Slow-burn canon-compilant corruption! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least)

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: More sexy times! No gender descriptives for the Keeper, like the previous sex scene!

I mean, of course we have to have the obligatory Prefect’s bathroom sex scene!

It had been tempting to simply sleep in the Undercroft, cuddling on the cushions, but the three eventually agreed that a proper bath was needed.

"Have either of you been to the prefect's bathroom?" The Keeper whispered as they made their way into the Faculty Tower under the disillusionment charm.

"Nope, though I have heard rumours about how luxurious it is." Sebastian grinned as the Keeper used the alohomora charm to unlock the door to the tower. Not at all surprised that they knew the spell.

The three of them slipped through the door quietly. Fortunately, they only encountered two professors speaking as they took the stairs to the infirmary. Most of the students were out enjoying their weekend evening, so they managed to slip into the prefect’s bathroom without issue.

"I'll ward the door." Ominis murmured as they removed their disillusionment charms, casting a strong locking spell.

The Keeper raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "Impressive, don't think even a third grade Alohomora would get through that."

Ominis shrugged. "Privacy was very important to my family."

"I can imagine." The Keeper gave a wry smile, tapping their wand against one of the many taps around the tub. Why were so many of them needed? The taps immediately began to fill the enormous tub with warm water at just the right temperature. Honestly, it was more like a pool than a tub.

The Keeper immediately began stripping, throwing their garments over the changing screen carelessly. Sebastian felt his cheeks warm at the sight of their toned body, he'd known they'd be fit just from watching them roll constantly in battle, but Merlin were they fit.

Their lean body had looked slight under their baggy robes but without, one could see how powerful their build was, thighs thick from hours of riding their thestral and abdomen tight from the aforementioned rolls.

Sebastian forced himself to ignore the multitudes of scars littering their body, he'd already expected them and he could get angry about them later.

The Keeper smirked, clearly aware of Sebastian's appreciative eyes as they climbed into the tub. "Earth to Sebastian, do you plan on joining us any time this year?"

Sebastian snapped out of his stupor, realising that Ominis was already down to his undergarments while he'd been standing there like an idiot.

"It's rude to stare, Sebastian." Ominis chided teasingly as he folded his underwear and placed it on his neat stack of clothing on the counter by the mirror, along with his wand. Ominis chuckled as he walked past, towards the tub as Sebastian started to disrobe as well.

"If you could see what I'm seeing, you'd stare too." Sebastian rolled his eyes as he quickly shucked his clothes, letting them drop to the floor without concern and made his way to the tub as well.

"Is that so? Then, may I?" Ominis asked, moving towards the spot where he'd heard the Keeper's voice come from before, hand following the side of the tub for orientation.

"Of course." The Keeper smiled softly, reaching a hand out to grasp Ominis', carefully guiding him over the steps into the pool and pressing his palm to their cheek.

Ominis trailed his hands over their face, smiling in return as he felt the gentle curl of their lips against his palm. Familiarising himself with the shape of their brow, their nose, soft cheeks, the occasional scar, and their plush lips. He shivered as their tongue slipped out to tease his fingers before they dipped to the Keeper's jawline and smoothed down their neck.

Ominis swallowed as his hands drifted down further, feeling the strong muscles of their shoulders, sliding past their sharp collarbones and down to their chest.

His cheeks flushed as his hands showed more of their normally clothed parts to him, feeling the differences in their body compared to Sebastian's and his own. Their musculature were definitely different and he could now see why Sebastian had been staring.

The many ridges and jagged scar tissue his fingers caught against, as he explored, tugged at his heartstrings. Not a single one of them were a neat slice.

Feeling their heart beat faster under his fingers, Ominis let his hands travel further down, past the firm surface of their stomach, feeling them shiver as he explored the most intimate region of their body.

The water around them rippled, signalling Sebastian’s approach. "Were you touched like this?"

Ominis really really wanted to smack Sebastian, that buffoon! Bringing up those things while he was touching their beloved.

The Keeper chuckled, leaning back against Sebastian’s bare chest as he wrapped his arms around their waist from behind. "Once, it was so disgusting that I never allowed it to happen again."

"I'm sorr-" Ominis flinched, moving to withdraw his hands, but the Keeper stopped him, placing their hands over his own.

"I said that my first time being touched was disgusting, I whored myself out in every other possible way to survive after that, only giving with my mouth, hands, feet, anything but myself. This isn’t the same. It's different with you, both of you." The Keeper murmured. "This feels… special? It feels… right."

Ominis relaxed, reassured by their words as Sebastian coaxed the Keeper onto his lap as he sat on one of the steps under the water.

"We will never let anyone else touch you again. Never." Sebastian whispered into their ear, the quiet anger in his voice making the Keeper shiver with delight. They loved this sharp and vicious side of Sebastian.

"We won't let anyone hurt you like this again." Ominis echoed his own promise as he knelt before them on a step that allowed his head to remain above the surface of the water. Letting his hands run over their strong thighs, feeling them tremble in excitement as the Keeper turned their head to the side to kiss Sebastian, feeling his tongue press against theirs possessively.

Sebastian pawed at their chest, finding their hardened nipples and giving them the same treatment he'd received earlier. Their lips parted to release a soft sound of surprised pleasure. The Keeper had known, from responses they’d gotten, that it felt good, but they were still caught off guard by the pulses of dripping warmth that slid through their veins.

Ominis felt his heart ache at the way their body jolted in surprise, sad that the first time the Keeper had been anything but confident, the whole night, was when they were receiving pleasure rather than giving it.

Well, it was about time they got used to receiving pleasure, because it was going to become the norm. This, Ominis vowed to himself, swallowing his nerves and moving with purpose, sliding his hands up along their thighs to go through with his oath.

The Keeper gasped as they felt Ominis' fingers pressing against them, relishing the new sensations as his clumsy yet determined caresses stoked a fire in their loins that they'd never experienced before. Their fingers tightened around Sebastian’s forearms, feeling the warmth begin to grow steadily into a burning heat.

Separating their lips, Sebastian lowered his head to their shoulder, beginning to suckle and lap at their skin, marking them like they'd marked him, as he spread their legs with his own, giving Ominis more room to pleasure them.

The Keeper hadn’t thought the feeling of someone prying their legs open could be anything but horrifying. Yet here, with Ominis and Sebastian, they didn’t feel the urge to vomit, how strange. The movement, exposing their most vulnerable parts, was instead filling their veins with adrenaline, the obscene nature of it feeling exciting, even exhilarating.

Ominis leaned forward at the sound and movements, correctly guessing that the Keeper's lips were now free to be captured by his own. It took a moment to find them, catching first on their jaw and climbing slowly along their cheek, where they finally met.

To his pleasure, their lips parted willingly, eagerly for him, and Ominis lapped gently at their tongue as he continued to stimulate them rhythmically. Exploring with his hands and figuring out what made them feel good from the way their muscles spasmed against his palms, feeling the heat radiating from their skin.

All while Sebastian curiously experimented with nipping at the skin of their nape, running his hands over their torso and feeling their shuddering breaths against his chest.

The Keeper basked in their attention, feeling like everything they had ever done in their entire bloody life had been worth it to end up here. Every scar was now a trophy, a testament to what they'd overcome to be here. Between the two people they had come to need so deeply, that they felt like they'd die if they were ever parted.

When had their fascination with Sebastian and Ominis become such an obsession? Even they did not know. It was beyond dangerous, unfathomably risky to allow themselves to need not only one, but two people.

Humans were fragile and so easy to lose, but God protect anyone who took either of these boys away from them, because the fools who try, would need divine intervention to survive their wrath.

The Keeper pressed back against Ominis' hands with building desperation, the pleasure, and the sheer joy of being at the centre of these two was becoming unbearable. An unfamiliar need crawling through their insides, almost scary in the way it goaded them to do things they'd never even considered before.

Their fingers threaded into his hair and curled over his shoulder. They needed more, needed everything that Sebastian and Ominis had to offer.

They nipped at Ominis' lips in frustration, whimpering pleadingly, while he merely continued his steady pace, refusing to let them rush to the end, drawing out their pleasure and driving them insane with desire. They pulled away just enough to leave a small gap between their lips and Ominis'.

"Fuck, Ominis, please!" The Keeper gasped, surprising themselves, they'd thought they'd never beg again in their life, but now that it was out, they couldn't stop. Filling the spaces between them with words they'd never thought they'd speak.

Ominis shivered, the sound of his name passing from their lips in such a needy tone made his heart stutter. He felt almost dizzy with some unknown emotion, like something had awakened deep inside him. Muffled pleas fell from the Keeper’s lips as he recaptured them, pressing his mouth against them harder, tongue seeking theirs out with fervour as he increased the speed of his ministrations.

Struck by a sudden and urgent need to feel them fall apart at his hand.

The Keeper mewled in delight as they raised quickly to the peak they'd sought, their body clenching as they reached their climax, their exalted moan swallowed by Ominis' mouth as they shuddered in satisfaction.

As they gradually came down from their high, the Keeper leaned back, gasping for air, slumping back against Sebastian's chest, resting their head on his shoulder, and panting from exertion.

"Wish I could tell you how they look, the way they did, but I don't think I can." Sebastian chuckled. "So, you'll have to make do with; they look like we did a good job and it's bloody hot."

"So poetic." Ominis rolled his eyes with a helpless smile.

"Thank you." Sebastian grinned as the Keeper laughed breathlessly.

"Merlin knows why I love you." Ominis sighed, shaking his head dramatically.

"Could be my stunning eyes, my striking good looks, gorgeous hair, or any number of endearing qualities, I'm sure." Sebastian winked as the Keeper moved off his lap to sit on the step beside him with an incredulous snort.

"I'm blind, you dimwit." Ominis replied flatly.

"Surely not to my charms." Sebastian grinned, standing, and running a finger along the underside of Ominis' chin.

"Oh, do shut up." Ominis sighed, leaning forward to silence Sebastian, feeling the other boy's shit eating grin against his lips.

Ominis threaded his fingers into Sebastian's hair, moaning as Sebastian pressed their bodies together with a hand on his hip, causing their lengths to nudge against each other. The two gasped when they felt the Keeper's fingers encircle both of them, pressing them together more firmly.

Sebastian allowed his hand to run along Ominis' torso, feeling his friend's slim and soft body, so unlike the Keeper's. Pale and smooth, unmarred save the sprinkles of beauty marks across his skin.

Ominis gasped as Sebastian began taking revenge on him as well, rubbing his thumb across Ominis' nipples. Well two could play at that game. He smoothed his hands over Sebastian's chest again, hearing him groan against his mouth, making a point to draw out more shivers than the other.

The Keeper chuckled as the two boys tried to one-up each other, only serving to rile themselves up further as the Keeper moved their hands over the two erections, rubbing them together and running their thumbs over their heads, encouraging the boys' hips to begin thrusting against each other, trapped between the Keeper's palms.

They watched, enraptured as their two precious, treasured boys chased their pleasure, rutting against each other eagerly, catching brief glimpses of their tongues entangled with each other in their mouths.

"Jesus, the both of you look amazing." The Keeper breathed, completely enamoured with the way the two of them moaned into each other's mouths at the reminder that they were being watched.

The boys' thrusts became increasingly frantic as they rapidly approached their ends, the Keeper watching with satisfaction as Sebastian came first, continuing to hold him against Ominis until he began to show signs of overstimulation, then they let go of him and continued to hold Ominis as he chased his own completion in their grip.

Sebastian sighed, dropping his body into the water, letting natural buoyancy carry some of his weight and wading over to a step to rest as Ominis came with a muffled cry. The Keeper stroked him through his completion before supporting and guiding him to the steps as well.

Sebastian sidled up against the Keeper's side, placing an arm around their waist, while Ominis rested his head on their shoulder on the other side, grasping their hand loosely under the water.

The three rested their tired bodies together, simply enjoying the warmth of the water and each other's affection.

The Keeper had never known such contentment, they'd always believed firmly in the inevitability and general unfairness of celestial dice. The fact that no one truly had the power of choice.

People made decisions based on their experiences and no one can choose their own experiences or the circumstances they were born to. Blame whoever you want, gods, men, fate, and luck. It wouldn't change a thing.

Everyone is just fighting for a place in the universe. Not everyone was lucky enough to even find one, but it seemed they were. They had never considered themselves to be fortunate, but now, they knew without a doubt.

They were the luckiest fucker on the planet. To have met Sebastian and Ominis, and they would suffer every second of their life a thousand more times to be right here, right now.

"Oh, we didn't get to ask, how was the survey?" Ominis mused absently, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Yeah, because we got distracted." Sebastian grinned smugly.

The Keeper huffed a light laugh, enjoying the sounds of their voices, one might find it odd, but even that small thing was now bringing them peace.

"How did that even start again?" Ominis wondered, thinking back to when he returned to the Undercroft in the afternoon. The Keeper frowned for a moment searching their own memories as well.

"I believe I asked to watch the two of you snog." The Keeper smirked. "I got a lot more than that."

"That we did." Sebastian laughed, gently bumping his head against the Keeper's affectionately.

Ominis chuckled as well, curling around the Keeper’s arm. "So, how did the survey go? Hopefully it went better than my search for Anne."

The Keeper grimaced. "Sadly, I would say that it wasn't suitable, too many spider lairs in the vicinity and completely no ley lines, the only thing good was the terrain."

Sebastian sighed. "Guess we'll have to try something further out, I was hoping we could buy a plot near Feldcroft but I suppose the area has never really been all that habitable."

"We'll just have to keep looking." The Keeper placed a kiss on his forehead. "I'm sure we'll find somewhere perfect eventually. Then we'll finally have our own home."

Notes:

Look, MC be rolling like it's Elden Ring but infinite stamina bar, you cannot tell me they ain't fit as a horse.

God that was hard, writing without genitalia descriptions was not easy and so this ended up being shorter than I would have liked, at least the scenes that I write in the future will have assigned genders so it'll be a little easier on me, hopefully it was still good though! (Note from future self, three parts later and still no genitalia yet, I do love torturing myself.)

I wanted to show that, despite everything they've been through, being forced to grow up fast, and their seeming maturity, Keeper's still a kid too, just like the boys. One that can express joy and wonder when seeing the magical world and doesn't actually know much about romance.

In fact, I honestly like the writing for Sebastian and Ominis because of how realistically immature both of them are. From Sebastian being unable to control his emotions and the type of confidence that comes from inexperience. To Ominis and his flagrant denial, that one just looks like maturity because he doesn't behave impulsively and has a justification that sounds reasonable if you don't squint.

I mean, think about it, if everyone stopped because someone said "you shouldn't risk your life to save someone else", firefighters wouldn't be a thing. Is it someone's right to tell someone else that they can't throw their life away for something they believe in just because everyone says it's impossible? Activists and revolutionaries take issue with you if you say yes to that question.

Sure, Sebastian isn't going a great route, but that's because no one is guiding this dumb 15 year old kid and teaching him experiment safety. Hundreds of thousands of people died to make military regulations, they weren't stupid or wrong, they were just the first few.

Selfless love here, would have been supporting Sebastian the way MC does in game, correcting him when he goes teenage hormone crazy like on the mountain. Ominis was just as selfish as Sebastian, both trying to soothe their anxiety and fear of loss and prioritising keeping the person they need alive over the object of their obsession's happiness.

Ominis was doing to Sebastian exactly what Sebastian was doing to Anne. "I just need you alive, and I don't need you to be happy."

Of course, this is all understandable, because they're just kids who've experienced too much loss. It's not their fault that they fell into this pithole, parents do it all the time. But they can learn and that's what makes these boys beautiful.

Anyway, now that the relationship is fairly well established, we can start delving into the actual plot and get some character growth! Hope ya'll excited for where this story goes cos I've got so many plans in the works!

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 3

@pocketramblr (also please let me know if you would like me to stop tagging you on these, I don't want to be annoying. :))

"WAIT!" shouted Nana abruptly, as Izuku was talking to his (weirdo) teacher. "I know who that is! Quick, get ready to turn everything off!"

"Turn what off?" asked En. "We live in a formless mental void. We don't even have electricity."

"The quirk! That's Eraserhead!"

"Oh, yeah," said Yoichi, while everyone else (sans Second and Third) scrambled to grab onto the quirk. "I remember Eight meeting him, now! So, he's a teacher, huh?"

"How do all of you forget the one person who might be capable of one-shotting All for One?" demanded Nana.

"Doesn't his quirk not work on mutations?"

"Stop daydreaming and get over here, Yoichi!"

The quirkspace began to glow faintly, ominously red, and the ghosts pulled hard on the quirk, holding it temporarily out of Izuku's reach.

Then, the red glow abated and they dropped it back into place.

"Well, that was exhausting," said Banjo. "So, we'll have to be constantly ready for that, huh?"

"As long as he's around, yeah," said Nana.

"Why did we just do that, anyway?" asked En.

"So we can continue to masquerade as a normal, non-haunted quirk?"

"We could have just let him think he didn't have a quirk, or that the anxiety-"

"Super anxiety."

"-isn't part of it."

Yoichi gasped, as if scandalized. "You'd want us to lie to Izuku?"

"Okay, seriously, what is up with you and Nine?" asked En.

Despite not having a body, Yoichi began to visibly sweat. "Nothing, nothing at all. I just... think he's neat?"

"If you're going to lie to us, can you not do it with archaeomemes?" asked Nana.

"No, no, actually, I can get behind this," said En. "Would you say Izuku has... vibes?"

Yoichi nodded solemnly.

.

"Young Midoriya!"

Izuku shrieked and jumped back from the sudden sound as All Might suddenly emerged from an otherwise innocuous bush.

Both of them froze, staring at each other.

"Are you..." said All Might, hesitantly, sounding much more like he did in his small form than usual, "alright?"

"I... think so?"

"That's good, then." All Might coughed slightly into his fist. "I was wondering if you had a few minutes."

"Of- of course!" said Izuku, immediately.

"Then allow me to lead the way!"

All Might led him through a door labeled 'staff only' and immediately deflated. "All the staff know about my condition," explained Mr. Yagi.

Izuku nodded. Then a thought occurred to him. "Mr. Yagi?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Why, um, why don't you teach, um, as Mr. Yagi? Instead of as All Might? Wouldn't it save your time?"

Mr. Yagi stopped and scratched his head. "I hadn't really thought about it before," he admitted. "But part of the reason I took this job, other than wanting to help train the next generation of heroes, of course, is that I want to get people used to the idea that I am going to retire." He tugged on one of his bangs. "Also, ah, I'm not sure if my qualifications to teach are quite up to par without my reputation."

"I'm sure it would be fine! You're the best, after all!"

Mr. Yagi chuckled. "I'm glad you think so," he said. Then he reached behind him and opened a door. "In any case: my office."

"Wow," said Izuku, quietly, stepping in. "All Might's office..." Who knew when he'd get another opportunity like this again? He kept his eyes wide to drink in the details.

The rather sparse details. The office was rather bare. Which made sense, seeing as All Might was a brand-new teacher. It was sort of... disappointing, as thrilling as it was.

Mr. Yagi sat down behind the desk and gestured for Izuku to take one of the other chairs. It had a lot of cushioning. A lot a lot. Izuku sank down into the fluff as Mr. Yagi fiddled with a drawer on his desk. He got the drawer open, and pulled out a notebook. A notebook of the same brand Izuku liked to use, actually.

"Since your experiences with One for All are so different from mine, I thought it might be a good idea to do some research into past holders and take a leaf out of your notebook, as it were." He passed the notebook over to Izuku, who took it with shaking hands and a slightly open mouth.

"I'll treasure it," he declared, voice wobbling.

"Not so much that you don't use it, I hope," said Mr. Yagi. "As it is, it's only an overview. The earlier holders, especially, don't have many records associated with them. Consider it a starting point. I haven't had much time to work on it."

"I can't believe you found the time to write this at all," said Izuku, flipping through the pages. The information was sparse, but each holder had a basic profile, all the way back to the fourth. "I mean, between being a hero, training me, and preparing to be a teacher, I'm stunned nothing fell by the wayside!"

Mr. Yagi proceeded to turn a very interesting color.

"Uh, nothing fell by the wayside, right?"

"Why don't you take a few minutes to skim through. If anything jumps out at you right away, we can talk about it. And then I'll let you go get changed and go home, and we can discuss more later, after you've had more time with it."

"Okay!" said Izuku. He'd start with just the basic profiles. Name, date of birth, date of death, quirk... wait, those ages... "They all died young," he said, softly.

"Hero work is dangerous," said Mr. Yagi, hand going to his side.

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"Not something you need to worry about. I took care of it, years ago." The hand holding his side spasmed slightly.

"... Six years ago?" asked Izuku, aware he was pushing his luck. But this sounded both important and relevant.

There was a long pause. "Yes," said All Might, finally. "A villain with a longevity quirk. He... had a history with the first user."

Izuku got the feeling that was an understatement. It also seemed unlikely that the only application of the villain's quirk was longevity, given what he'd done to All Might. But the subject was clearly making All Might uncomfortable, so he dropped it in favor of burying his nose in the notebook again.

(Social fumbles aside, this was the most secure Izuku had felt for... a while.)

"The sixth user had a smoke quirk?"

"Yes, it seems so. Although it doesn't seem to have been actual smoke, but a biological compound."

"I wonder if that has anything to do with all the steam you release when you deflate. Actually..." he flipped back through the quirk. "I wonder if you're using Float, too, subconsciously, when you jump."

"What?"

"I- I mean," said Izuku, "I noticed, when, um, when I grabbed your ankle and also in videos of you- Your hang time is kind of messed up? You're in the air for longer than you should be, but it isn't, like, consistent? Plus, you can change direction mid-air, which I thought was because you were shooting out blasts of air pressure with your quirk, but with me on your ankle, you definitely didn't do that. There was- there was a forum I was on where some people thought your quirk tapped into magnetic fields, somehow, but that doesn't make any sense, because you'd expect a lot more electronic interference and that similar locations would produce similar results, given the Earth's magnetic field, but they don't. But subconscious, low-level use of a telekinesis-based flying quirk would explain everything. If we take into account what you said about my anxiety after the entrance exam, then that's minor expressions of three out of four of the quirks listed here, not counting the base stockpile and enhancement quirk. Do you think the unknown quirks of the second and third users might have partially manifested for you as well? Have you experienced anything else that's atypical for a strength enhancement quirk?"

Mr. Yagi stared at Izuku.

Oh, no, he'd gone too far.

"Nothing immediately comes to mind, my boy," he said, faintly. "But... magnets? Really?"

"I told you it didn't make any sense."

Mr. Yagi rubbed his chin. "There might be something, but... it's too unclear to say either way. I'll keep an eye out. It's just... a lot to take in. I thought One for All was done surprising me."

"When has it surprised you before?"

"Oh, under the influence of certain mental quirks, you can wind up hallucinating the previous users."

"Hallucinating?"

"Yes. But being under the influence of a mental quirk is always the larger issue, so..."

"Mr. Yagi," said Izuku. "That's really the kind of thing you should let people know about up front."

"I- is it?"

.

The ghosts all stared at Nana.

"Hey, don't blame this on me! None of us explained that kind of stuff before passing One for All on."

"In our defense," said En, half raising a hand, "we were usually dying when we passed it on."

"More importantly," said Hikage, "do you think Ninth is right about the quirks?"

"It would make sense," mused Yoichi. "Although then we'd have to wonder why Blackwhip didn't manifest similarly."

"Is it too much for me to get someone to use my quirk? My extremely awesome quirk, that has no downsides?"

"It is powered almost exclusively by rage."

"No downsides."

"You-"

"No. Downsides."

.

Aizawa passed him an envelope labeled 'quirk counseling' along with the standard schedule and orientation packet he was handing to everyone else. It didn't look like any of his class mates had noticed, though, for which Izuku was grateful. He didn't want to be known as a weirdo who didn't know what his own quirk was.

He heavily suspected he was tapping into Danger Sense, somehow, but he didn't know how, and the fourth user of One for All had lived so long ago there weren't any records of him. Not easily and publicly available. Everything Mr. Yagi had written in his notebook (that Izuku had probably stayed up way too late reading... and texting Mr. Yagi about it... and comparing it to his notes... and texting Mr. Yagi about that... and reviewing old All Might compilations and theory threads... and having Mr. Yagi threaten to call his mom if he didn't go to sleep...) about the fourth user had been retrieved from the journals Mr. Yagi's mentor had passed down, according to one of the source notes in the margin.

(Mr. Yagi had really neat, small handwriting, which Izuku wouldn't have ever expected from his large, dramatic signatures as All Might, and his notes were meticulous and carefully cited. If Izuku didn't know better, he would have thought it belonged to a secretary.)

But despite Izuku's suspicions, he didn't actually know. He didn't know it's range, what it defined as danger, whether or not it 'ranked' dangers, how to distinguish it from normal anxiety, or- Well. Anything, really. And he would really like to.

He opened the envelope quietly. Inside was a handwritten note instructing him to pick one of three schedules for quirk counseling and return it to Aizawa by the end of the day. The other pages were printed, with times and possible locations. Options for both before and after the school day.

Izuku felt his eyes tearing up. This was easily the nicest thing a teacher had ever done for him... Although he was nervous about being alone with Aizawa. Some of his other teachers, when they asked him to stay after class it was... not good.

Nothing bad happened, not like in movies or TV shows or the awareness videos the school had shown sometimes. The teachers didn't hurt him, really, didn't do anything to him, other than talk or yell, mostly, but it still wasn't good.

Maybe he could ask Mr. Yagi or Recovery Girl to sit in... But he already felt bad, taking up so much of their time.

He picked one of the after school schedules. He was already staying late on the other days to work with Mr. Yagi, and if something did go wrong, he wanted to have the night to recover before he had to face Aizawa again in class.

He put it to the side, so he'd remember to give it to Aizawa before he left, then looked over the class schedule. Homeroom, Math, Hero Art History, History, and English in the morning. At least this morning. The history classes alternated with something called Heroics-Applied Science and Hero Law and Ethics. Afternoons, meanwhile, were entirely occupied by Hero Basic Training.

And every class would be taught by a pro hero. He wondered if it would be rude to ask for their autographs...

.

Shouta grunted as Hizashi flopped down onto the couch next to him on the couch in the staff breakroom. "What a morning! I just love seeing all those bright little faces at the beginning of the year. Anyone have a favorite first year yet?"

Shouta kicked Hizashi through his sleeping bag. Sadly, this had no effect on the man.

"I think mine might be the little green guy. He's the only one who was actually paying attention, and you know how rare that is, when everyone is anticipating their first heroics lesson. The rest of us just pale in comparison."

Shouta attempted to kick Hizashi again, this time for an entirely different reason. Midoriya was already All Might's favorite (probably)- he did not need more pull with the staff.

"I know who my least favorite is," said Kan. "Kid's certainly dedicated and competitive, but I wouldn't be surprised if he threatened his middle school teachers into giving him those glowing reviews. His personality needs a lot of work. How did you get Nezu to saddle me with Bakugo, anyway, Eraser?"

"I had nothing to do with it."

"Don't give me that, I was going to have Monoma. At least he's a team player."

"You're being illogical," said Shouta, zipping his sleeping bag closed over his face.

"How about you, Nemuri?" asked Hizashi, cutting off Vlad King vs Eraserhead round five hundred.

"It's hard to choose! They're all so cute and eager! Full of the passion of youth! I think they're all my favorite."

"You always say that..."

The door opened and closed.

"All Might! What about you? Any favorites yet?"

Yagi coughed. "I've only had the one class of third years so far. Don't you think that's rather... premature?"

What an incredible nonanswer.

"How did that first class of yours go, anyway? They didn't sour you to the whole idea of teaching, did they?"

"Not at all! The students were wonderful. The third years are very advanced, aren't they? For some of them, I wouldn't be shocked to see that skill level on an active sidekick."

"What can I say? We start them off right," crowed Hizashi.

"They did seem a little surprised by the scenario, however."

"So was I, t'be honest," said Snipe, who was in charge of the third years.

"Ah, was it no good...?"

"It was fine. Lesson plan was a bit rough around the edges, but you and Nezu'll be goin' over that later. But... quirk traffickin' doesn't quite seem like your thing."

"Ah, well, set-pieces," he said, using the slightly derisive underground slang for large-scale spotlight hero battles, "may be what I'm known for, but before my injury, the majority of my battles and investigations weren't publicized."

"Shield laws?" asked Nemuri.

"Generally, yes, but some of the investigations were tied to others, so we were using the organized crime secrecy laws to keep those under wraps. Simply put, my popularity isn't the only reason I keep the number one spot despite Endeavor having more completed cases than me on paper."

Shouta had known there was more to All Might than 'punchy, over-the-top, eyestrain-causing, bombastic muscle guy,' but part of his stupid, illogical brain was annoyed at Yagi for pummeling that image into imaginary dust, anyway. It seemed like the man's only two flaws were horrible interpersonal skills when not using his public persona, and his vast suite of health issues, the latter of which all heroes who operated long enough picked up.

Oh, and a possible inclination towards bribery.

Made it hard to dislike him, which Shouta wanted to do, because he was loud, flashy, and gave him headaches, literal and metaphorical. He ignored the fact that Hizashi was the same way, and had forcibly become Shouta's best friend. Clearly, there was no connection here.

"By the way, why is young Aizawa completely zipped in like that?"

"Nap time," said Hizashi, solemnly.

.

"Sir?" said Iida, raising his hand.

"Yes, young man?" boomed All Might.

"There are nineteen of us. How are we handling the odd person out?"

"Excellent question! In other exercises, we may handle it differently, but for today, one of you will be working alone! Occasionally, a hero may find themselves isolated when they originally expected help. However, for better balance, I have also arranged it so the odd hero out will be taking part in the last battle, so you'll have more time to strategize!"

But the other team would also have more time to strategize, Izuku noted. He really hoped it wouldn't be him... not that he wanted to force it on any if his classmates! He just didn't want yet another handicap on the first day of training.

All Might walked around with the box of ballots, pausing for each student to take one. He reached Izuku and held the box out to him with a wink. Izuku smiled back, reached in, and grabbed one.

A chill ran up his back and he froze, fingers wrapped tightly around the little ball. Something told him this was definitely the cursed, single-person ballot. Could he let it go? Would it be considered cheating if he picked a new one?

But All Might was already walking away. Every part of his body tense, Izuku turned his hand over and forced his fingers apart.

J.

The tenth character of the Latin alphabet. For the tenth, last, team.

He watched as everyone else started to pair up, and All Might looked at him apologetically.

Izuku approximated a smile. Plus ultra, right?

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

@lavstar i was so incredibly stupid and i deleted your ask while i was drafting it… i swear i didn’t forget to do it 😭 anyway i’ve FINALLY finished it so let’s jump into the compilation of the most planes i have ever brainrot ❤️ because no ❤️ you cannot expect me to pick one ❤️ it is impossible ❤️

two airbus A320s taking off from parallel runways, five nautical miles apart ‘cause they’re not gay!

btw i genuinely do not care about military aircraft (never have, prob never will) so these are all to do with civil aviation. also huge disclaimer i did all the commentary off the top of my head (i did have to wikipedia some of the stats im not martin fucking crieff) so if i mess up a term or something that’s on me

of course no post about my favorite planes cannot leave out the OG. my first love, the most plane i have ever ridden; the one, the only, the increasingly irrelevant due to industry shifts, the beloved Airbus A380.

(L) just look at this big beautiful girl! + (R) a view of i believe scotland? as approached from the north

i don’t know why i love this plane so much, because lots of other people certainly don’t for a lot of reasons. her size makes her the main character out of necessity at every airport she comes across, and she’s an inconvenience for air traffic controllers for that reason. her origin story is [twitter stan account voice] a bit problematic. given changes in industry trends, she is also quickly becoming irrelevant. airbus my beloved please just admit that the four engines thing was nostalgia and go. she’s a marvel of engineering sure, but when all is said and done…the B747 came, she served cunt, and then she got phased out. the A380 was made with the intention of doing the same…unfortunately, she didn’t really complete the second step.

wait holy shit. i know why i love this plane so much. it’s because this plane…is me ❤️

—

and now for thee og in terms of famous big-ass planes that everyone loves: the B747. everyone loves the 747. even if they say they’re not into planes, they are. for me, not gonna lie: a very big reason for why i love the Queen of the Skies so much is mark vanhoenacker’s book, skyfaring. he flew the 747 for bri’ish airways (when they still had them) and loved that plane so much and man who am i to blame him.

(L) i think i teared up when i saw her through the big windows for the first time bc i was like oh my god. i am going to be on her. this icon of aviation, the arguable symbol of commercial aviation. so much history, so much significance… + (R) the past, the present, and the future of british airways in one image 🥺

i was on a 747 twice in my life. once on a cathay pacific flight to the philippines, and on my last flight abroad, on a british airways flight to heathrow. little did i know i was flying one of the last of their 747 flights—they phased them out completely the following year, a bit earlier than anticipated due to the pandemic.

as enzo ferrari once probably said, “ask a child to draw a plane, and certainly he will put a hump and four engines on it.” in terms of sheer iconic power and energy, the Queen (and she is the only earthly being to whom I shall ever refer as such) would far and away be the top on anyone’s list, save for the fact that i don’t have a top to this list and i have other planes to get to dear god this is getting long do you know what you’ve got yourself into!! the Queen really said “flight belongs to the people now” and the airlines just had to shut up and listen!! she is truly the main character!!!

genuinely don’t remember what river this is except that it’s in the UK… 🙈

i feel like everything else i say about her is just going to be a pale imitation of how evocative skyfaring was, so honestly i really recommend the book it’s so good and it’s one of my favorites. my copy is sort of falling apart now bc i kept bringing it around to places 😭 anyway, the number of airlines using her for passengers is decreasing, but you know who still use converted versions of her as well as purpose-built models? cargo airlines! anyway, ups and their brown planes my beloved 🤎

—

this slot was going to go to the B767 and 757, and i was going to rhapsodize about how aesthetically the 767 looks like a nicer plane to me because of Chonk, but the 757 is really endearing because it’s a narrowbody jet and it’s got landing gear that is long in a useful but unusual-looking way, which in essence what i’m trying to say is that if the 757 were a person, it would be esteban ocon.

so i was getting ready to write all of this down in much more words than i needed, but i remembered suddenly the very reason i was making this post in the first place. and that, my friends, is the B777.

honestly you don’t fully understand how big the 777 is until you see it in person. because we are all acclimated to think of like the 747 when we think of ‘big plane.’ but the 777 is massive. even i forgot about it when i wrote That Fanfic.

the 777 and 787 are the future of long-haul commercial aviation (and i say this as an A380 stannie). widebody jets with 2 big-ass engines are most likely what we’re going to see in the sky going forward when it comes to long-distance travel, and the pandemic pretty much confirmed that.

that aside, i love the 777. so much that i wrote a whole fanfic around one making an emergency landing ❤️ i really pretended ETOPS (the thing where a plane can fly for a long time on one engine) did not exist for six chapters and an alternate ending and i think that’s just very quirky of me aha 🤪

dear god do not mind my hat i literally bought it because of fred fucking thursday of endeavour… what the FUCK was teenage me on 😭

the 777 was supposed to be a trijet (one with three engines, two under each wing and one built into the vertical stabilizer) but as the mcdonnell douglas and lockheed martin trijets (cba to look up the numbers) were not projected to continue to be successful, they got rid of the trijet 777 idea and instead made it have two engines. another thing i think is neat is that all the examples of the 777 that you will see in the wild right now don’t have winglets bc the wings themselves are so long and raked back that they’re not necessary. which would be a weird thing for me in particular to find neat, because if you know me well you know i have a thing for winglets. (the 2022 f1 car’s front wing my BELOVED WAKSKDKSJSJ!!!!!) i also think the way the wingtip lights are incorporated into the wings are so neat. the upgraded version they’re trying to make now, the 777X, will have foldy wingtips so you can DIY your own winglets and i think that’s hilarious (and also cool).

—

genuinely i think i’m the only plane person that likes this last aircraft: the Embraer ERJ-175. i like her for purely nostalgic reasons. she reminds me of how i returned to my roots and decided to pursue engineering.

so okay this is going to have nothing to do with the plane, but i was lucky enough to be given a visit to the flightdeck after landing back home from a weekend trip. i was so excited to be allowed to sit in the first officer’s seat, and got to poke around the flightdeck for like ten minutes. which was cool, but all this was with the sinking realization that even operating a regional jet might be too physically demanding (read: unsafe) for someone of my… [exhales knowing EXACTLY what i’m about to walk into] height.

that is one fully glass cockpit. also those yokes are specific to embraer, boeing’s look more like f1 steering wheels with stuff cut out of them i think, and airbus’s are operated by side stick. it’s almost funny especially when watching flightdeck videos of the a380 cause it’s like… you’re doing All That *gestures vaguely at plane* with THAT *gestures at thing that looks like a chicken drumstick with semiconductors implanted in it*

so that was piloting as a career done with for me (much to my family’s relief.) and then i thought “hm i don’t have to be flying planes all the time to be working around them…why don’t i work on developing them instead?” and i was passively interested in matsci already, so that’s how and when i decided to pursue engineering, with hopes of working for airbus or boeing and in civil aviation.

we’ll see how that pans out, i say as i side-eye the exponential growth of my interest in motorsport.

thanks for the ask! i’m so sorry i was stupid and deleted it but i hope you like this very long, drawn out, and frankly deranged response 💚

[supercherrydraws]

First date

Tom looked at himself in the mirror in Matt's bedroom, who lent his room to the shorter one who didn't have full-length mirrors in his room. Usually whenever they needed to see themselves in the mirror, they went to the redhead's fourth bedroom.

- Why are you fussing so much? You are great! You don't have to have that worried look in your face-

Matt said, sitting on his bed analyzing the other and helping him choose a good outfit.

- I don't know if it's too much. It's just a date after all, I don't have to take it so seriously. It would be easier if I knew where we're going, but he insists on being a "surprise"-

Matt chuckled as he straightened the black blouse he wore, with faded dark blue jeans, black sneakers, and a thick plaid-print bracelet. He was handsome and while it wasn't a big deal, it was funny to see him so concerned about what he wore.

- You're very simple but you're neat. That's what he told you to wear. I'd go with more, but you're exactly in the discretion he gave and what I know Tord likes. I mean, he likes you, I think anything you wear will please him-

Matt lightly teased the Brit who laughed sarcastically, disagreeing with the taller one. As they laughed together, the door was opened

- Matt, can I use your mirror?... wow-

Tord walked into the room, amazed at the same instant that his eyes met the black-eyed one. He wasn't that dressed up, but seeing him in something other than his blue sweatshirt delighted him so much.

Thomas was looking at him with equal delight. Tord was wearing a black T-shirt with a red flannel over it, black jeans with white and black sneakers. Along with a silver army chain. He was beautiful in Thomas' eyes.

- Yes, you can, but you don't have to. You are great-

Matt said smiling, snapping them both out of their trance. They looked embarrassed that they'd admired each other in front of someone else, as well as being their first date. Unfortunately Matt should have known to borrow the mirror and Edd ended up knowing in consequence.

- Just fix the bangs... come here, let me throw them to the side-

Tom walked over, tossing Tord's bangs to the side, smearing them across Tord's forehead. He had recently cut it and it was longer, he was growing his hair out and that pleased Thomas a lot. He stared into the younger man's face, taking in how he was doing. He ended up smiling unconsciously, his hands slipping lightly on Tord's strong arm. They came out of their trance embarrassed, while Matt smiled at the two from afar. Edd was leaning against the doorframe now, watching them with a dirty grin.

- Hey, what are the lovebirds waiting for? You two look great, get out of here before you flood this house with love. We need everything but all that sweetness from you-

The two made a disgusted face and walked away. They weren't much for romance and their friends knew that well.

- Well, it's true. We will-

Tord said walking out of the room, walking past Edd who made fun of them once again. Tord said he would drive and Tom just accepted, even though he would love to get behind the wheel, he wouldn't know where to go anyway.

Along the way, they didn't talk much at first, showing nervousness about the new situation. Tom decided to bring it up, not taking the silence any longer.

- I know you don't like my songs, but is the place far enough for me to put something to play?-

Tord nodded with a smile, giving Thomas the freedom to put on his music.

- I like your songs, it’s the rest who doesn’t like it. They listen to those generic radio songs that no one can stand anymore and songs to put children to sleep-

Tom nods with a laugh, choosing a compilation playlist of various rock styles. They sang together Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Aerosmith, AC/DC, Queen, KISS and many other classics. When they arrived at their chosen location, Tom's eyes widened, amazed at the place.

- The Arcade?! I thought this place had closed many years ago!-

They got out of the car almost at the same time. Tord locking the car right behind by pressing the lock button on the car key.

- Yeah, I did too. But I was doing some research and luckily I found a guy doing a video about it on Instagram. They recently renovated-

Tom gave him a dirty look, approaching him teasingly and with a mocking look, holding back a small laugh.

- Did you do research before taking me on a date? Wow, how important am I?-

They both laughed, as much as Tord looked a little embarrassed, even as the other approached.

- Enough that I don't want to take you on a generic date at any romantic restaurant. I know you well enough to know you wouldn't like that-

Tom nodded, thanking him for making the effort to look for a different, cool place to take him. They entered side by side, avoiding much physical contact so far. The truth is that they were a little afraid of touching each other and the other not liking it, because they knew that neither of them was a big fan of having their personal space invaded. So they thought about taking it easy and if they had any opportunity to feel each other, they would try.

They bought the tickets for the games and decided to go to the easier ones first, to de-rust their body and mind to be ready for the more difficult ones at the end of the day. There were some competitions between the two and small arguments, but that was what made it all more interesting for both of them. In one of Tom's chosen shooting games, Tord decided not to participate, with the excuse that he wasn't a big fan of that one. But the truth was that he just wanted to see the shorter play. During the game, Tord noticed that Thomas was not holding the gun properly and this was causing him to lose points in the game.

- You're holding it wrong, like this you shoot less and have less aim. Oh, hold it like this-

He entered behind the other. Leaning his chest on the other's back to straighten his posture and held his hands to position them correctly. Tom blushed brightly, but took advantage of the heat of the taller one, snuggling slightly, letting the other show him the right way. When Tord realized what he was doing, he walked away, apologizing for the space invasion.

- No no, it's all right. It wasn't bad...you're...warm-

He admitted in embarrassment, walking away from the game once it was over. Thanks to Tord's help, he got some more points and with that, he had more tickets for a prize at the end. Tord looked at him, his silver eyes widening in surprise, showing an emotional side of him that Thomas hadn't known. Tom laughed, inviting him to try the hardest shot. During the game, Tom asked for help from Tord, who let go of his side without a second thought and snuggled into the smaller one, squeezing the grip tighter, resting his chin in the crook between the smaller's shoulder and neck, who shrugged it off to feel more of that cozy warmth.

When the game was over, they walked away slowly, unwilling to sever the connection they'd established. They looked at each other embarrassed but with a sincere smile on their lips. After seeing that all their points could be redeemed for a simple dull flashlight, they donated their tickets to a child who was collecting to get the biggest prize. They decided to eat a slice of pizza somewhere that would only sell a slice to be quicker and simpler. They found a quick little pizzeria and chose the slices they wanted, sitting at a small table for two outside the store. They talked and laughed while they ate without any hurry. Even though they weren't much of physical contact and affection, they fought the urge to hold hands. Thomas resisted the urge to hug Tord's strong arm as they walked, just because it felt soft and fluffy, as much as he imagined it to be hard because it was a trained muscle. As Tord struggled with the urge to hug Thomas as hard as he could and squeeze his tight little body.

They were bringing their hands together as they spoke, discreetly and acting naturally, as if nothing was happening. At the points the fingers were getting closer, the lines getting shorter and the faces getting hotter. Tord excited to intertwine their fingers, but Tom went ahead, fitting his small, broad fingers into Tord's long, slender ones, continuing the story he was telling. Tord began to feel comfortable and to press Thomas's fingers against his own, feeling how soft they really were. They were soft to the touch, but you could tell they were slightly rough. The masculine hands of both didn't take away the masculinity of that touch, which seemed rough in a way, they didn't seem to fit very well for the outsider, but for the two, who felt the touch and all the sensations, they fit perfectly. They began to caress each other with the tips of their fingers, feeling every crease, scar or callus.

They were bringing their hands together as they spoke, discreetly and acting naturally, as if nothing was happening. At the points the fingers were getting closer, the lines getting shorter and the faces getting hotter. Tord excited to intertwine their fingers, but Tom went ahead, fitting his small, broad fingers into Tord's long, slender ones, continuing the story he was telling. Tord began to feel comfortable and to press Thomas's fingers against his own, feeling how soft they really were. They were soft to the touch, but you could tell they were slightly rough. The masculine hands of both didn't take away the masculinity of that touch, which seemed rough in a way, they didn't seem to fit very well for the outsider, but for the two, who felt the touch and all the sensations, they fit perfectly. They began to caress each other with the tips of their fingers, feeling every crease, scar or callus.

- Do you have calluses on your fingertips? Why?-

Tord asked, touching Thomas' callused fingertips.

- Oh! This is for playing bass. The strings are thick, so over the time the fingers get calloused. And your calluses on the palm of your hand? What are they from?-

He asked back as he massaged the calluses on Tord's left hand.

- Ah, a lot of things hahah, exercises, like climbing the bar, lifting bench presses. It can also be a weapon, a rifle, the army etc-

They both laughed softly, tightening the grip of their hands. Tom stared at his clasped hands with a smile, before bursting into laughter, pulling Tord into another laugh, which asked what all the fun was about.

- It's just that I've always hated it…that. I've never liked touching anyone and I've always found it super ridiculous and stupid to hold someone's hand or these stupid displays of affection. But look at me here, holding and caressing your hand. I'm too hypocritical hahahahha-

Tord laughed out loud, squeezing the other's hand tighter, kissing it in a romantic and cinematic way, drawing a laugh and a forced disgust face from Thomas, pulling his hand away. But soon returning it to the highest as soon as he finished his scene. They played and joked some more, until they decided to get up and go to the parking lot where they left the car. Thomas asked to drive this time, as he wanted to go somewhere else first. Tord allowed it, asking Tom to surprise him. Upon arriving at the destination chosen by Thomas, he smiled pleased to see that it was a bar that played old rock live, he knew that Thomas could not end that night without a glass of vodka.

- I'm not going to drink with you, but feel free, just don't abuse it-

Warned Tord, sitting at the table next to Tom, who laughed sarcastically.

- You're weak, aren't you? It's okay, I don't want problems. I won't give you problems either, don't worry. Just wanted to hear the song with you-

Tord feigned exaggerated relief, taking a deep breath with a hand on his chest, causing Tom to chuckle lightly. The black-eyed one ordered a glass of vodka and promised it would be just that, just to leave a taste in his mouth. Tord accompanied him with a can of lemon tonic in his glass. After the first sip of the drink, Tom took more courage to show his will to the other.

-Hold my hand again-

He ordered, giving his hand to the Norwegian who laughed, holding it affectionately and supporting it on the wooden table, lightly stroking the back of the brunette's hand.

- With pleasure-

They both laughed discreetly, sipping their respective drinks. Thomas finished quickly, since there wasn't much of the drink in his glass, Tord took a little longer, which didn't bother the other, who enjoyed every touch and every word that came out of the Norwegian's mouth. He didn't want to feel that way, he didn't like it, but he knew he liked Tord a lot, he couldn't deny it anymore.

After paying, they got into the car again, this time heading home. It was already midnight, surely the others would be sleeping, as they both warned that they were fine and that they would be arriving late, so they wouldn't have to worry about them. They were silent for most of the way, enjoying the empty street and the lull of the night.

Arriving home, they parked the car in the garage and got out quietly, trying not to make any noise as they realized that all the lights were off and that the house was completely silent. They took off their shoes so they wouldn't make any sound when walking. They went up the stairs side by side and when they were going to separate to go to their respective rooms, they looked at each other once, with a happy and grateful smile, of someone who really enjoyed the night.

- Thanks for the night Tord...it was really good-

Thanked Tom, clearly embarrassed. Tord smiled even wider, taking the other's hand and lifting it to his lips, kissing it classily. He knew it embarrassed Tom.

- I thank you. I hope the next one doesn't take long to arrive-

He let go of the other's hand, which unwillingly pulled away. They continued in short silence for a little longer, before Tord spoke up once more.

- Is it okay if I…kiss you? I don't want to go too fast for you-

Tom's eyes widened in surprise, not knowing what to make of this situation. He'd deny it not to give in if he hadn't been equally craving it since the beginning of the night. He then decided to treat himself to that sensation and new experience. He took hold of Tord's arm and brought him closer, standing slightly on tiptoe just so Tord didn't have to bend over so much. He excited before touching the other's lips, but soon the smallest distance he set was cut short by Tord, who finally touched them. Initially the kiss was calm, kind of awkward. Just a deep, shy peck, but they soon began to elaborate it in a subtle way, letting their hands roam the other's body: they squeezed arms, caressed the back and Tord even let himself risk touching Thomas' butt, which was well received by for a while, but soon asked to stop playing it in that region. Tom wasn't much of those things and he was afraid to move on to something that wasn't just innocent affection anymore.

They parted the kiss slowly, enjoying each new sensation they provided. They smiled at each other and Tom leaned his head against the taller's strong chest, trying to hide his face in shame. Tord bit back a laugh, hugging the shorter one a little tightly and placing a small kiss on his head. They said goodbye unwillingly, said good night and went to their rooms, carrying a wide and sincere smile of joy, originating from the love they shared. As much as they were sure it was just a crush that wouldn't last long, they were experiencing true love for the first time.

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: Someting there

Okay so 85 people liked this concept, 19 of which felt the need to reblog. So I’m doing this.

The title is a reference I thought was nice and fitting because I have no clue what else to call this au. So it’s the paper flowers au. Don’t think about it too much.

Okay so this story is going to have two perspectives. 1 that of a Fander watching not only Thomas’ video’s but also the community’s response to it. And 2 a third person telling of the going ons in the mindscape between Roman and Virgil. Let’s do this!

January 2016

Roman was not in a good mood.

He was helping Thomas rehearse for tonight’s performance and Anxiety was distracting him!

“Will you shut up about the lights for two minutes!?” he demanded.

Anxiety glared at him for a moment before smirking. “Sure, want to talk about that creacking floorboard instead? I don’t trust it,” he offered, making Roman throw his hands up and scream to the heavens in frustration. “I am trying to work here!” he pointed out.

Anxiety shrugged. “So am I,” he states.

Roman just huffed. Right.

“Thomas! Ready for a run through?” the director asked.

“Um… Yeah,” Thomas smiled nervously. That drew the attention of both sides.

“Well, here goes,” Anxiety sighed.

“Don’t listen to him Thomas. You’ll do great,” Roman declared.

“Wait, read over your cues one more time,” Anxiety insisted. And of course Thomas followed. Roman would complain but these kinds of things did no real harm, quite the opposite, so he’d learned to let these things be. It would be exhausting to put a stop to all of Anxiety’s meddling.

And when it came to rehearsing lines and the like… Roman occasionally had to concede a point to him.

Once Thomas took note of his cues for the scene he and his fellow cast members took their places.

Anxiety made Thomas avoid the creaking board as if it were cursed, but other than that he was only a mild annoyance. And that was when it happened.

The scene was over and everyone was talking and reading lines as they left the stage, Thomas was telling a story to a fellow actress when his foot Anxiety suddenly jumped.

“Cables!” he warned and Thomas stepped over the wires, almost absentmindedly. His friend however had been too immersed in the story and tripped.

“Catch her!” Anxiety ordered. And Thomas, who’d been frozen in shock at first sprung in action to save her from an unpleasant fall.

“That was close. Guess your inner prince really came through on this one,” she giggled as Thomas helped her regain her balance.

Roman meanwhile was staring at Anxiety in shock. Did he just…

Anxiety didn’t notice though, he just left for his room, mumbling something about being exhausted and needing sleep before the premier.

That was fine. Roman had a lot to think about.

He went to his own room first an started to compile a list of things he’d seen Anxiety say and do. But he quickly grew frustrated by how incomplete his recollection seemed. So he knocked on Logan’s door.

“Roman? What brings you here?” Logan asked surprised.

“Hi calculatorwatch, I was… Talking to Anxiety earlier and he said something that made me wonder… Well could you perhaps give me a log of my conversations with him for the past month? Anything he said when I was in the room with him would be helpful.”

Logan quirked a brow. “Why are you in need of such information? Surely you recall these conversations yourself?” he wondered.

“Yes… But I need his exact words. And it’s not like I’m asking for anything he wouldn’t say to my face.”

Logan seemed to find that explanation good enough as he disappeared for a minute before returning with a thick binder.

“These are copies so you are free to hold on to them.”

Roman accepted the binder. “My sincere thanks. I shall see you at dinner.”

An hour later Roman was just puzzled. Sure there were lots of insults in here from both sides. But… There was also solid evidence that at least half the things Anxiety said might come from a place of genuine care for them all.

Anxiety had been pushing Thomas to rehears more than Roman ever could get him to do on his own. He had made him call up his friends and family to check in with them. He had him double check if he was up to date on his payments and if his fridge was stocked.

Roman nodded to himself. He was going to talk to Anxiety about this.

“What’s up Princey?” Anxiety asked casually as he leaned in his doorframe.

At least, that morning Roman would have considered it relaxed, he might even have considered his attitude patronizing. But now that he was looking at him, really looking, he saw the tenseness in his posture, the slight panic in his eyes.

“Anxiety… I would like for you to join me for a walk in the imagination. Something has been brought to my attention that I wish to speak to you about in private,” Roman explained.

Anxiety pushed himself off the doorframe and shoved his hands, balled to fists Roman noticed, into his hoodie pockets. He turned his face away. Rude, Roman used to think, but now he wondered: was he nervous?

“Fine,” Anxiety huffed as he closed his door behind him and followed Roman to the door to the imagination.

When Prince opened the door it showed a forest path. Through the trees to the west you could see the forest was going over a hillside, a late afternoon sun lit up the valley and a quaint little village in the distance.

“Neat,” Anxiety allowed.

“Thank you,” Roman said sincerely. Anxiety did a double take at that. Roman could understand. This was the longest they’d ever been in proximity to each other without either of them hurling insults at the other’s head.

They walked a few minutes in amicable silence.

“You good Princey?” Anxiety asked after a while.

“Roman,” he corrected.

“… what?” Anxiety asked incredulous.

“As much as I like the nickname, it feels inappropriate for a serious discussion. If you don’t mind,” he elaborated politely.

“Dude, you are starting to freak me out,” Anxiety hissed.

“Apologies. I was merely trying to find a good way to formulate this…” Roman stopped walking. The path had led them to the edge of the forest. Roman looked over the valley as he collected his thoughts.

“I wish to thank you for earlier today. You kept Thomas from falling and getting injured. And after you helped him help his friend. Thank you.” Roman looked at a wide eyed Anxiety. Once his fellow side realized he was caught in his surprise he tried to cover up. Folding his arms in front of his chest and looking away. “Whatever,” he mumbled. “You’re welcome or something.”

Roman wondered how he had not seen this before. His evasiveness, his defensiveness…

“And it made me think… A dangerous endeavor I know,” he joked, and he took pride in the fact that he saw Anxiety crack a smile.

“So I looked back over our encounters for the past month. And looking at your actions without the emotions of the moment involved, got me thinking… That I misjudged you.”

Anxiety’s head snapped back to him, Roman looked back without fear, this needed to be said.

“I assumed you were trying to hold Thomas back, to destroy his dreams. But… that is not who you are, is it?”

Roman watched as Anxiety processed his words, emotions flashing over his face.

Confusion, shock, fear, panic… And then he could see the walls going up as Virgil took that pose that Roman came to associate with their usual back and forth.

“You… I’m… What are you playing at? Is this some kind of sick joke Deceit?” he demanded.

“Rude. That snake wouldn’t be able to open the door to the imagination. Not even if Remus helped him. This is not his territory after all.” Roman pointed out.

Anxiety looked like he was about to argue, but deflated.

“Then… Are you having a laugh here? Because I don’t get it.” Anxiety looked Roman over as if he would be able to see the hidden dagger Roman was about to pull out.

“I am not… I misjudged you. I saw you as an enemy, while I could’ve had you as an ally.”

He offered his hand. “I propose a truce? A clean start?” he offered.

Anxiety looked from the hand to Roman’s face, analyzing every inch of his posture..

Then he nodded. “Okay… On one condition. You don’t tell the others a word.”

Roman nodded. He’d expected some sort of test of his sincerity. And he was determined to pass.

“I’m definitely going to regret this… Fine,” Anxiety sighed as he accepted Roman’s hand.

They weren’t friends. But there was definitely something there that wasn’t there before.

Part 2

[animebw]

Looking Ahead: The End of The Anime Binge-Watcher?

Three years. I’ve been writing for The Anime Binge-Watcher for three years. No matter how many times I think about it, it still boggles my mind. I started this blog on a whim, thinking it would be neat to share my thoughts on the anime I watched and see if anyone else jived with it. I never could have predicted it would become one of the biggest, most rewarding projects of my entire life. I’ve analyzed so many anime, I’ve met so many incredible people, I’ve dedicated countless hours of my life to just doing something that I loved doing. I could spend all day listing the incredible memories I’ve made from doing this gig and I know I’d probably still forget something. And still new people are discovering me, finding my posts and following along to see what crazy adventures we’ll go on next. This. Shit. Has. Been. WILD. And I’m truly thankful that I got the chance to do something this incredible.

I always write big posts at anniversaries. It’s a nice way to mark the passage of time. For my first anniversary, I wrote a giant essay detailing my origins as a media critic and why I decided to start this blog in the first place. For my second anniversary, I compiled a list of the best analyses I’ve done over the years for those who missed them. First I took you through my past, then I brought you up to speed with my present. So for my third anniversary, I think it’s only fair I look toward the future.

But this isn’t gonna be just another anniversary post. Because after doing some hard thinking, I think it’s time for me to start asking some sad, difficult questions. It’s time for me to consider something I wanted to put off for much longer.

It’s time for me to start thinking about bringing this blog to an end.

Just to clarify before you panic: this will not happen right away. Rest assured, I will give you fair warning for when I close the door on TABW. And it’s not like I’ll vanish off the face of the earth. I’ll still be here to chat and answer questions with anyone who wants. And I’ll definitely keep up with my One Piece updates, because those are fun and easy and I’m not abandoning this ship mid-stream, dammit. Might even still write a couple short reflections here and there. But the vast majority of my content production on this blog? The in-depth analysis of a show one chunk of episodes at a time? Sadly, I think it’s time for me to start winding that down. The Anime Binge-Watcher will still exist for anyone who stumbles across it, but my days of spilling countless words over anime are coming to an end.

So why am I doing this? If this has been one of the best parts of my life for three years, why do I think it’s time to let it go?

Reason 1: The adult world is waiting for me.

I started this blog when I was a college sophomore, days before I turned 20 years old. I still had all the free time in the world to indulge in anime. Now, I’m a college graduate on the verge of turning 23. I have a job lined up to teach English to students in China. I’m gonna be teaching in China. THAT’S FUCKING DOPE. And it’s also going to be the first full-time job I’ve ever held. No matter how much I try to manage my schedule, I know I just won’t have enough time to regularly watch big chunks of anime and spend close to an hour writing about them. I’d barely have time to do anything other than eat and sleep if I forced myself to do that.

The fact of the matter is, I’m growing up. I’m officially an adult now, as fucking bizarre as that feels. There’s a whole new world waiting for me, one with new opportunities and new responsibilities alike. And I want to give myself the time I need to find my place in that world. Once my time isn’t being chewed up with writing for this blog, I’ll be able to explore adult life at my own pace, following my dreams with far less stress. Which is good, because...

Reason 2: I have so many other interests I want to pursue.

So, did you hear that I’m a published author now? Because I totally am! You can read the first book in my planned four-novel fantasy adventure series, The Chronicles of Geyron, for free on Webnovel now! I’ve been working on this book for upwards of a decade, and I couldn’t be happier to see it finally published. Thing is, though... at some point, I’m gonna have to write the other three books in the series. On top of that, I’m in the process of writing an original anime script of my own, and it’s getting to the point where I’ve started thinking about how best to publish that as well. Light novels? Serialized chapters? Partner with an artist willing to spend years of their life turning it into a Webtoon? There’s no telling what I could do with this baby. And there’s also all these original songs I’ve written, I’d really like to turn them into a real album somehow. Plus with Covid winding down, it might finally be possible for me to start acting on stage again...

Look, point is, my life ain’t just anime. I have so many different interests I want to pursue and creative projects to get out there. Being an artist of any kind is hard work; getting any of these passion projects even as far as they’ve gotten has taken a lot of dedication. And I want to dedicate more of myself to them, because I genuinely think they could be really special. That’s gonna be exponentially harder if I try to keep up with this blog and work and just generally living my life alongside getting these projects going. Right now, I want to expand my horizons and pursue all the things that interest me, even if that means leaving hardcore anime analysis behind. Which brings me too...

Reason 3: I feel like I’ve said everything.

Looking over my binge list, I’ve done thorough analyses of almost one hundred and twenty different shows. Some of those shows had multiple seasons; a couple of them were longer than a hundred episodes. And that’s not counting the movies I reviewed, my seasonal breakdowns of currently airing anime, my re-watches, or anything else. I have watched good anime and bad anime, good anime with bad parts and bad anime with good parts, middling anime and anime that are simultaneously amazing and awful. I’ve analyzed action, adventure, comedy, drama, tragedy, romance, mystery, slice of life, sports, realism, magical realism, fantasy, shonen, shoujo, isekai, and even a couple ecchi. I’ve talked about what makes good character dynamics, romantic subplots, dialogue, trope subversions, tropes played straight, animation, direction and editing, soundtrack and sound design, cinematic language, visual storytelling, symbolism, theming and emotional sincerity. I’ve broken down the greatest works of art I’ve ever encountered and the worst pieces of shit I’ve ever suffered through and everything in between. I’ve even managed to tackle pretty much every iconic series and film that every anime fan agrees you should watch. Over the past three years, I have talked about anime from every conceivable angle one can talk about anime. And, well... I feel like I’ve said everything I need to say.

When I started this blog, I was still incredibly new to anime. I don’t think I even had 50 series under my belt. Every new show I tackled was something fresh and different, something that let me explore how to tell a story in ways I hadn’t before. But now? I’m a veteran with several hundred Anilist entries. I’ve talked about pretty much every kind of show, pretty much every quality of show, and pretty much every single configuration of those axes. That hasn’t dimmed my passion for anime- as long as good anime exists, I’ll continue to watch it- but there’s only so long you can talk about one thing before you start repeating yourself. It’s getting harder and harder to figure out how to talk about anime in ways I haven’t before, to not just re-hash old observations I made years ago. This blog has grown to encompass my entire thesis on what I value in anime and why I feel this medium is so important. At this point, I can’t think of anything I can really add that isn’t just window dressing.

And honestly? I’m okay with that. I feel like I’ve been able to explore all the reasons I find anime fascinating, to share my complete perspective on this medium, its strengths and weaknesses, and its most important entries. If you read through my binge-watches, short reflections, re-watches and anything else, even just a few out of my extensive backlog, you will get a satisfying snapshot of my thoughts on this medium. As sad as I’ll be leaving this blog behind, The Anime Binge-Watcher feels complete to me now. This is a project I’ve invested three years of my life into, and when I take a step back to see it in its entirety, I see the fruits of my labor polished to a mirror shine, with no missing pieces and no cracks to be filled in. There’s nothing more I can do to make this project better or more rewarding than it already is. I’ve said my piece, and if I do say so myself, it was a damn good piece.

And there’s one lesson above all I’ve taken from so many of the best anime I’ve watched here: when the time starts moving on, you gotta let yourself move on with it.

I could not be happier with what The Anime Binge-Watcher has become. Over 4600 posts, over 900 followers, and god knows how many words; these numbers can’t do justice to what we’ve made here. This has been a writing experiment, a community, an exercise in self-improvement, a space to share joy and sorrow, something that’s enriched my life ten times over and maybe even made your lives a little better in the process. From a silly little thought, this blog has become a source of pride, comfort, and imagination beyond my wildest dreams. This has been, without question, one of the greatest things I’ve ever done. And I could not be more honored to have shared it with you all. Talking about anime with you guys has made my life so much better these past few years. Whether you comment on every post or just lurk in the shadows waiting for my next One Piece update, I want you to know that you have made The Anime Binge-Watcher what it is. Thank you all so goddamn much. Thank you for three years of this incredible, unforgettable ride.

Of course, like I said above, we’re not quite done yet. It’ll be some time before I officially bid this gig goodbye. At the very least, I want to finish my catch-up on all the 2019-2020 shows I missed. I’ll probably have time for one more long-running show after finishing Pokemon Johto. But once my job gets under way and I fly out to China, that’s probably it. When that happens is still up in the air; my best guess is late this August, as they wanted me to come over late August last year before Covid made everyone’s plans go up in smoke. I’ll keep you updated on that situation as it goes. But you can almost definitely expect things to wrap up before another year passes. Don’t worry; you’ll have plenty of advance warning for when closing night rolls around. I owe you that, and so much more.

And, of course, there’s still one particular finale film I’m gonna need to review before saying goodbye.

I can’t think of a better final post to go out on. Can you?

I love you all. Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride, and let’s make the most of the time we have left.

Love and Peace,

The Anime Binge-Watcher

[polite-pandemonium]

Digimon fic I will never finish

Writing has absolutely taken a back burner to the endless strategies, recommendations, reports, and presentations I’ve had to put together for work since October. I miss writing and feeling creative.

Since I still don’t have time to write (I’m currently procrastinating on putting together a deck for a talk I’m doing Wednesday morning by compiling this), in a bid to feel slightly creative, here’s some unedited scenes from various Digimon fics I will probably never finish. I have written thousands of words for this fandom that will never see the light of day, so may as well give them their time in the sun. Usual ships you’d expect from me - Sora/Yamato, Taichi/Mimi, and Takeru/Hikari, but I have labelled which scenes feature which ships below, cause this got long. 

(also, for some reason, almost ALL of these are sad? am I okay???) 

I am easy to find - taichi/mimi we’ve got something (kind of funny) - yamato/sora (taichi is there, too)  somewhere in her smile, she knows - takeru/hikari  to be so lonely - yamato/sora/jyou  combustible - yamato/sora  everyone’s gotta lean (sometime) - taichi/meiko, yamato/sora  you already know - takeru/hikari

I am easy to find taichi/mimi

in which Taichi and Mimi reunite for the first time in years at a party in New York.

“Are you?” Mimi broached the topic slowly. Something about the way he said her name made Mimi feel like she should proceed with caution. “Still with Meiko, I mean?”

Taichi was quiet for a moment, peeling at the label on his beer bottle. “Uh, no,” he responded, his tone tight. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We haven’t been together in a while.” He peered up at Mimi then, curiously. “Didn’t you know that? You guys were close, weren’t you?”

Mimi felt her stomach twist. “We were,” she looked down, “but life happens. We fell out of touch. I try to keep up with Facebook and Instagram, but even that can be difficult, especially with my job. With the exception of Jyou and Sora — and I guess Yamato, by extension — I don’t really talk to anyone these days.”

“Yeah,” Taichi said quietly. “We noticed.”

Stomach twisting even further, Mimi kept her gaze fixed to the ground. “I’m sorry. It’s hard. With the time difference and stuff; it got harder as we got older. And I speak mostly English here, so my Japanese has gotten kind of rusty, so I am sometimes nervous about picking up the phone. You must be able to tell; I sound like I’m out of practice.”

Shrugging, Taichi propped himself straighter up against the wall. “Yeah, a little, maybe,” he conceded. “Still. A long time ago, it would have been strange to think of a universe where you’re weren’t close with Meiko. You guys were tight as hell in high school...and yet here we are. I can’t believe you don’t talk enough for her to tell you something like this.” His tone sounded equal parts confused and judgemental, and Mimi felt herself bristle.

“I could say the same thing for you,” she raised her beer and took a long swig, the taste bitter on her tongue, pointing her finger at him accusingly. “I mean, you were dating her. Why didn’t she tell you that we fell out of touch? What, did she not talk to you enough for her to tell you that we weren’t close?”

Taichi chuckled softly. “Yeah, actually,” he lifted his gaze to hers and Mimi paused at the look of hurt in them. She hadn’t seen that look in more years than she could count. “That was kind of the problem. She didn’t talk to me about anything.”

Averting her eyes from his, Mimi took another drink of beer. How awkward. “Oh,” she mustered up. “I um...I’m sorry to hear that.”

Shrugging, he pushed himself off the wall. “Whatever,” he said, “Like you said, life happens. Sometimes you can only go so far with a person. Sometimes there’s places within them that you can’t reach. It...it happens.” 

“I guess so,” Mimi frowned. She couldn’t say she could exactly relate, could understand how he was feeling. Something about that made her feel unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite place her finger on. “How long ago did you break up?”

Raising his eyebrows, Taichi laughed. “Wow, cool, thanks Mimi,” he ran a hand through his hair, “haven’t seen you in six years, but sure, let’s rehash the details of my failed love life and arguably one of the most painful relationships in my existence to date. After we’re done with me, shall we run through your recent dating adventures?” 

“Sorry,” Mimi said quickly, flushing. She hadn’t thought of it that way at all; that it was too much, too soon. She was just trying to fill in the gaps. “There’s just…a lot I missed. A lot to catch up on.”

Taichi was silent for a moment; so quiet, she swore she could hear his breathing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that. It has been a while.” He paused. “I can’t believe it’s been eight years.”

Sensing a moment to break the tension, Mimi grinned cheekily. “Did you miss me, Taichi-san? Did you miss me this whole time we weren’t together? Are you stunned by how attractive and put together I have become?”

Rolling his eyes, Taichi polished off his beer. “Wow. Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

“What?!” Mimi exclaimed, “Of course I have! My hair isn’t even pink anymore; it’s rose gold!” 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––

we’ve got something (kind of funny)  sora/yamato, taichi/mimi

in which Taichi unexpectedly runs into Sora. 

Taichi arrived at Yamato’s apartment just as Sora was leaving. 

“Oh, Taichi,” she said awkwardly in the doorway. “Hi.”

A grin spread across Taichi’s face. “Hi, Sora,” he said, looking her up and down. Her usually neat hair was pulled back in a messy braid and she was wearing an oversized red plaid shirt that he was 95% sure was not hers. “Whatcha doin’ here?” 

Sora smiled back stiffly. “I was just stopping by,” she hitched her bag on her shoulder. “And now I’m just leaving.”

“Just stopping by, huh?” Taichi’s grin grew wider. “Pretty early in the morning to be just stopping by.”

“Says the person who is also just stopping by at 9 in the morning,” Sora said pointedly, stepping past Taichi to enter the hallway. “You and Yamato have something you want to tell me?” 

Taichi’s face fell. “Goodbye, Sora!”

“Goodbye, Taichi!” she called over her shoulder. “Have a good day!”

Glancing back at Yamato’s open door, Taichi saw the blonde leaning against the wall, arms folded, an annoyed expression on his face. He was still in his pyjamas. 

“This is why people don’t just drop by anymore,” he scowled, “you should have texted first.”

“Sorry,” Taichi said, not sounding sorry at all. He stepped into Yamato’s apartment, closing the door behind him as he bent down to take off his shoes in the genkan. “I was hopped up after my flight last night and couldn’t really sleep.”

Pushing himself off the wall, Yamato shrugged. “Whatever. You want coffee?”

“Sure,” Taichi flopped down on Yamato’s living room couch, stretching out. “So, you and Sora, huh?”

Yamato set a mug down on his counter, loudly, before responding. “What about me and Sora?”

Watching as his best friend picked up a French press, Taichi grinned mischievously. “You guys back together?”

Yamato’s eyes flicked up to him, his head still bent over their coffee. “I’m not answering that.”

“Okay,” Taichi conceded, “you guys sleeping together again then?”

“I’m not answering that either.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

somewhere in her smile, she knows  takeru/hikari

in which Hikari pesters Takeru about who he is taking to her brother’s wedding.

“I know,” she agrees, “it’s way too much. But it’s what Mimi wants and if it’s what Mimi wants, then it’s what Taichi wants,” she sighs. “Have you really not given the wedding date thing any real thought, though?”

He turns to her to answer and stops, feeling himself get distracted at the sight of a bead of sweat making its way down her neck. Just a little bit further and it would slip underneath her shirt, down to skin he could not see and could not touch. 

Despite the temperature, he finds himself feeling chilly.

“Takeru!” Hikari snaps, her features looking slightly annoyed. “Are you listening to me at all?”

“No,” he admits, biting into his ice cream. The wafer had gone soggy by now, the whole thing basically mush. “Not really.”

Whacking him on the arm, Hikari rolls her eyes. “Typical. Why do I even bother?”

Takeru grins. She’s so easy to rile up, even after all these years. “What’s wrong? You want my undivided attention, Hikari-chan?” he slips the honorific onto the end of her name, long abandoned since their early 20s, whenever he’s trying to be cute. Whenever he’s really trying to rile her up.

“No,” she says stiffly. “I just am trying to have a normal conversation with you and you’re barely even listening.”

Sighing, Takeru crumbles up the wrapper his ice cream had been in and leans down to grab his bag from its place on the ground. “It’s not that I’m not listening, but I just haven’t thought about this, so I don’t really have an answer. I’ll probably just ask Mizuki or Himawari from work, one of the girls I can have fun with without too much commitment.”

Hikari scrunches her nose. “Mizuki or Himawari? Those aren’t dates, those are just your drinking buddies.”

“Exactly,” Takeru says, pocketing the wrapper in his bag and setting it back down. “If I take a girl I have been on a few dates with or something, then she’ll think that this means more than it is and I do not want that.”

“Of course not,” Hikari rolls her eyes, folding her arms. “God forbid a woman think you’re actually interested in her.”

“Yes,” Takeru agrees. “God forbid.” 

Hikari shakes her head, sets down her ice cream cup. She hadn’t finished it, it’s soupy consistency now looking far less than appealing. “You know what I think you should do?”

“What, Hikari?” He leans forward, resting his hand on the railing between them. “What does my lovely, grumbly best friend think I should do?”

“I think,” she begins matter of factly, “that for the wedding, you should bring someone you like.”

He nods slowly. “Got it. Okay. I’ll bring Patamon then.”

“Idiot!” Hikari whacks him in the arm again. “No, I think you should bring someone you like. Someone you really, really like.”

The words stumble out of Takeru’s mouth before he can stop them. He’s not even sure he thinks about it before speaking. “Well, I really like you. So why don’t we go together?”

A beat passes between them.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

to be so lonely  yamato/sora/jyou

in which Jyou has a realization.

“You know, I never even felt a reason to be jealous,” Jyou says quietly, fingers pressed to his lips. “I never felt even the slightest need to. Yamato was a part of your past and I was a part of your present and that was enough for me. I trusted you so much, that just knowing I was yours was enough for me. But clearly I was foolish. Clearly, I was foolish enough to think that what we had really mattered.”

“No, Jyou,” Sora raises a hand, tears running down her cheeks. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like, Sora?” Jyou snaps. “Because I’m having a really hard time trying to compute what any of this is, never mind what’s it not.”

“It’s just...it’s Yamato,” Sora chokes out. 

Jyou lets out a laugh. “Yeah,” he swallows. “That’s what I thought.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

combustible yamato/sora

in which Yamato and Sora break up in Paris, during Fashion Week.

They stare up at the Notre Dame, or what’s left of it rather, covered up in scaffolding and tarps. It makes Sora sad to see the sight of it. The last time they were here, the cathedral had been strong, beautiful, and whole. After the fire had ripped through it, even with repairs, she could feel that it was never going to be the same. 

Much like them.

“Yamato,” she turns to speak to him. “This isn’t working.”

He’s quiet for a moment before replying. “What isn’t?”

Sora swallows. “You know, Yamato.”

He doesn’t look at her and that’s how she knows she’s right. His eyes drop to the ground instead.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “it’s not.”

Sora feels something well up in her. “It’s not that I don’t want it to work. It’s just not anymore and it breaks my heart.”

He nods. “I feel the same. But we can’t keep denying it anymore. It’s been years since it’s been working.”

This stings Sora, the implication from him that things have been bad for far longer than either of them acknowledged. While she can admit it to herself, to hear him say it hurts. 

“It hasn’t been that bad,” she folds her arms, feeling cold.

Yamato glances at her then and she feels a shiver run down her spine, for reasons she can’t quite explain. “No,” he looks back up at Notre Dame, “but it hasn’t been good either.”

A silence settles over them, both unsure of how to fill the space that has appeared between them.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

everyone’s gotta learn (sometime)  taichi/meiko, yamato/sora

in which Taichi turns to Yamato and Sora following his break up with Meiko.

Meiko left him on a Tuesday and he had seen it coming a mile away. Things between them had been crumbling for months — probably even years — so it wasn’t a surprise to him when he stepped inside their (his?) apartment in Kichijoji after a long shift at work to find every trace of her completely gone. 

Well, that was partially a lie. He had expected Meiko to leave — but he hadn’t expected her to be so dramatic about it, just up and go in the middle of the day. 

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, before pulling out his cell phone. 

Yamato answers on the second ring.

“Hi,” he says slowly, and Taichi already knows he knows exactly what happened; Meiko must have gotten to Sora first. “What’s up?”

“Meiko left,” Taichi leans again his counter, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can feel a headache coming on, strong. “I just got home and there’s nothing of hers here.”

Yamato inhales sharply on the other side, a little bit too convincingly. He definitely knew. “Fuck,” he swears, “Taichi, I—”

“If Sora already told you, don’t sweat it,” Taichi lets out another sigh. “I would say it sucks that everyone knew before me, but it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.”

Yamato exhales. “Fuck, shit, Taichi, I am so sorry,” he says, and he sounds it, “Sora just found out maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago? And the two of us have been sick waiting for this call. I’m so sorry, I feel like an ass.”

“Don’t,” Taichi interjects, chuckling darkly. “It’s not on you that she thought it would be nice to tell my friends before she even told me.”

A beat passes between them. That wasn’t fair of him; Yamato and Sora were as much Meiko’s friends as they were his. Taichi cringes, wondering how awkward he made it for Yamato.

If he’s phased, Yamato doesn’t show it in his voice. “Do you want to come over? I’ll cook and Sora will go get beer.”

“Yes,” Taichi says without a heartbeat, picking up his keys off the counter. “Yes, I do.”

He shuts the door to his practically empty apartment. He’ll deal with it later. 

x x x

He goes to Yamato and Sora’s and tries to ignore the signs of their domesticity that he normally wouldn’t notice. The same signs that were all over his own apartment until meer hours ago. 

He never feels like a third wheel with Yamato and Sora. He never feels like three’s company. But something about that night, with them trying as hard as they could to make him feel even a little better, he feels it, intensely.

He drinks to make the feeling go away. 

He gets drunk, horribly drunk, and calls his sister, who doesn’t answer. Koushiro and Mimi are in Seoul. The chances of Jyou answering are slim to none, and if Hikari didn’t answer, Takeru wouldn’t either. He doesn’t want to talk to any of the others. 

He passes out on the couch and an hour later, finds himself leaning over the toilet, throwing up while Sora rubs his back. Yamato brings him water. 

He’s not sure if it’s how well they work as a unit or the unconditional kindness they show him time and time again, but something about it all breaks him, and he starts to weep on their bathroom floor. 

The tile is cold against his skin.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

you already know  takeru/hikari

in which Takeru and Hikari reach a breaking point.

“Sometimes I look at you,” he says softly, watching the tears fall down her face, “and the years between us stack up. They stack up and up and it’s like, none of it matters. Sometimes I look at you and all I feel is the weight of things unsaid and all of the places I can’t reach. Sometimes I look at you and I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

Hikari winces, clearly stung. Something dark passes over her face. “Can you ever speak like a normal person?”

Takeru narrows his eyes. “What?”

“Speak like a normal person,” Hikari says slowly, punctuating each word. “Just say things the way a person normally word instead of making everything sound like a declaration in a novel. I get it, Takeru, you’re a writer. We all get it.”

Chuckling, Takeru shakes his head. “Wow. After all that, after everything I just said, that’s what you cling to? My verbiage?”

“Do you know why, Takeru?” Hikari snaps, her voice raising, “because you talk like that and it makes me feel like you think we’re characters in one of your books. Like you’re just projecting all of these things on to me, all these ideas of me and you and what we’re supposed to be. You tell me that you look and me and all you can feel is the weight of things unsaid? Who talks like that, Takeru? Who talks like that when you’re apparently sharing the deepest of your feelings?”

“Characters in a novel?” Takeru gapes, “are you serious right now? I am a writer, Hikari, it does make my feelings more verbose, but it doesn’t mean that I am projecting things onto you.”

“Oh yeah?” Hikari begins to pace, “cause you talk like that in moments like this and you call my lingerie exquisite and you tell me time stops when you’re with me and all I can think is you think we’re part of this grand, sweeping story when the reality is we’re just two fucked up people who had to go through some fucked up stuff when we were kids. We’re not anything special, you and I, Takeru. Not really. And it’s hard to take anything seriously when you act like we are cause it makes me feel like you’re right, you don’t really know me at all.”

Takeru is quiet. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that maybe you just like the idea of me,” she says quiet, her voice still brimming with anger, “that you like the idea of being in love with your childhood sweetheart. That you think this codepency we’ve bred together is romantic and incomparable. That you refuse to take me as I am — a flawed human being who — and instead take me as your other half because of some ridiculous personality traits forced onto us when we were eight. Nothing you have ever said to me during all of this has ever felt like you were really saying it to me.”

Takeru feels like she shot him. “That’s because I can’t talk to you, Hikari,” he steps closer to her, “because everytime I do, you clam up and go somewhere I can’t reach. I’ve tried talking to you about this Hikari. I’ve tried practically our whole lives. And every time I get close, I stop, because I know it would hurt you and you’d go even further away from me. I’ve wanted to tell you what this feels like for years.”

“Yeah?” Hikari raises her chin, definitely. “What does it feel like?”

“It feels like I am being ripped in half,” Takeru shouts. “Every time we’re together, every time we sleep together, I feel like I am cracking open. I feel like I am cracking open in a bid to get you to finally see me, finally get closer and you just ignore it! There’s no way you haven’t known how I felt, Hikari, no way at all. And yet you still have been fucking me for years now. Years. And it is killing me and I know you knew that and you still went along with it anyway.”

Hikari is silent. 

“And I can’t figure out why,” his voice sounds desperate even to him, “I can’t figure out why you would do that. In the beginning, it was fine, but we were younger and I didn’t think it was going to go on forever without something changing. But nothing’s changed, Hikari. And it’s getting too hard. It hurts way too much. I can’t figure out how we got here and I can’t…” he swallows, “I can’t figure out why you’re okay with it. Why you want things to go on this way.”

“I think you should go,” Hikari says.

Takeru nods too, throat tight. “I think I should, too.”

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Ceremony (Smugglers, Part 5)

Hello everyone! I am so excited to finally be posting Part 5 of The Smugglers Series! I am so sorry to keep everyone waiting for so long, but I really had a creative stump when it came to continuing this, but I finally figured out the structure. This will be the fifth installment of this seven-part series, the next parts will center around their honeymoon and the Battle of Hogwarts. 

This piece is extremely long and I tried to shorten it, but after all the waiting the fans of the series have done, I couldn’t bear to leave anything out. I started writing Smugglers on a whim about two years ago after reading a Tumblr post and I cannot believe how much this story and this blog have grown. I owe you guys everything and I cannot wait to keep putting out work. I apologize for the long wait, but I went through a painful writer’s block regarding this story and I am happy to be releasing it.

Smugglers Series: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Taglist: @a-sweet-little-fangirl | @homowillraise | @fanfable

Just in case anyone was interested (and for my own visualizations sake) I compiled a picture of the wedding, maid-of-honor, and bridesmaids’ dresses, along with pictures of the various bouquets written in the story. If you guys would like to see them, please let me know! 

Anyways, enjoy the long-awaited continuation of “Smugglers: A Charlie Weasley Fanfiction”

Romania. November 30th, 1994.

The Romanian Dragon Sanctuary was home to an array of dangerous species. The dragons held there ranged from both manageable and potentially deadly. But amidst the potential dangers, foul-smelling cages, and bitter weather, a certain couple spent their final month before they finally moved back to their shared home in Scotland. 

Charlie Weasley, renowned Dragonologist, and fidgety husband to be proposed to master Gringotts Curse-Breaker (Y/N) (L/N) during the 1994 Quidditch World Cup surrounded by their family and friends. Encouraged by the outbreak after the cup and the realization that war could break out at any moment, the two worked quickly to organize and finalize their wedding. 

But before going forth with their wedding, Charlie and (Y/N) were finishing up their tasks at the Sanctuary. The workers had safely transported the four dragons utilized in the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament back to Romania and they all settled comfortably into their respective nests. Luckily for (Y/N), her last mission reeled in far more gold than the Goblins had expected, and granted her some time off, which she gladly took to spend some time with her fiancé. She was truly enjoying her time at the Sanctuary, although she never encountered dragons while on her trips, she hoped that the information she learned from Charlie and his colleagues would prove useful in the long run. Charlie, on the other hand, spent his early mornings caring for the newly hatched Peruvian Vipertooths and his afternoons patrolling the grounds ensuring the dragons were safely secured for the night. Ever since his departure from Hogwarts, Charlie had spent most of his time studying the various dragon species held at the Sanctuary. During his stint there, however, he had never witnessed the ferocity of baby Vipertooths. 

The nonnative Vipertooths were having a difficult time adjusting to the brutal cold of the Romanian countryside and Charlie worked day and night to ensure they survived. Although quite small, the dragons posed a large threat to whoever handled them due to their poisonous bites and their intense, unsatisfiable craving for human flesh which Charlie – charmed by their adorability – almost fell victim to them the first couple of days they were in his care. 

The Sanctuary workers were in full swing, carefully preparing for the upcoming blizzard. Steady tents erupted near the dragon nests and each worker was tasked with creating protective barriers around them to protect any of the eggs and their mothers.

Back on Ridgebit Rock, (Y/N) trudged through the snow with a clipboard in hand and studying the contents of the wooden crates lined up along the center. Charlie pulled the collar of his jumper higher, hiding the lower half of his face in the turtleneck as he called out numbers to his fiancée. (Y/N) had grown accustomed to the hectic environment and considered the sanctuary a second home so she couldn’t help feeling nostalgic as they finished up the final task. 

She looked around the surrounding forest, closing her eyes and breathing in the crisp cold air, shivering as a gust of wind blew past them. “I’m going to miss this,” she spoke up, clutching the board close to her chest, “You’ve spent so much time here, it feels bittersweet to leave it behind…” She understood that to grow, one must move on, but it was unusual to have their time at the sanctuary come to an end. 

“Me too,” replied Charlie, gazing towards the heated tent that held the small Vipertooths, “I wonder if the Dragons will remember us when we’re gone...” (Y/N) giggled, cut off by a sneeze as another gust of wind blew through the forest. Charlie glanced over at his fiancée, his heart swelling at the tinge of red that spread across her nose and cheeks. “You’re cold, aren’t you?” He asked while (Y/N) blew hot air into her gloves, attempting to cover her reddening nose.

Charlie smiled sweetly, removing his scarf, and wrapping it around her to shield her from the cold breeze. He gazed at her face with admiration, running his thumb across her cold cheek as she leaned into his gloved hand. 

“A little,” She admitted, setting down her clipboard and quill and slipping her hand into Charlie’s with ease, “But, I hope they remember us,” responding to his earlier statement while gazing over the hill where some of the dragons were kept, “They’ll be taken care of here and we can always come to visit.” (Y/N) grinned, squeezing her fiancé’s hand, “I’m sure they’d love to have their best Dragonologist back, not to mention their most handsome one.” 

Charlie hummed in satisfaction, “You’re absolutely right,” He replied, pulling her in for a tight hug and pressing a kiss against her cheek, “We’ve done a lot here and I never properly thanked you for staying by my side” He muttered, his fingers playing with her hair as they embraced. 

“And why wouldn’t I, Mr. Weasley?” (Y/N) teased, “After all, we said ‘til the end of the line our fourth year, remember?” 

All the adventures, family outings, dangerous vault discoveries, and, of course, all the travels that helped them grow as a couple. The two had spent years together, watching each other go through the awkward stages of adolescence and all the hardships that came along with it. From the moment they met, they had each other’s back and although that fact did not need to be confirmed by a ceremony, they knew it was the next big step in their relationship. 

“And soon we’ll be saying, til death do us part” Charlie added sweetly, pulling her scarf down and quickly stealing a kiss from her.  (Y/N) smiled against Charlie’s kiss, placing her gloved hands on his cheeks, and pulling him in before pulling herself away from his grip, “But we need to finish taking inventory” she joked, picking up her clipboard from the crate and tapping her quill against it. 

“Always so determined,” he replied, rolling his eyes as he attempted to pull her back into his grip and laughing as she ran down the snow, “Let's finish up so we can head home” Charlie smiled, catching up to her and pulling her along the Sanctuary. 

Scotland. November 30th, 1994. 

The warmth of their home quickly enveloped them as they stepped out of the fireplace, the green flames dying down at their feet. Although it was still rather chilly outside, it was nothing compared to the weather in Romania. 

The two walked around the ground floor of their home, hanging up their coats and scarves in the entrance closet. Their usually tidy home had papers scattered over the countertop, along with different types of flowers, silverware, envelopes filled with wedding invitations, and other materials necessary for their preparations. 

(Y/N) sighed at the mess they left behind. Planning a wedding proved to be more difficult than breaking curses at Hogwarts, and she always worried she would miss something essential while they prepared. 

She rounded the kitchen counter, sorting the letters the owls had deposited at their house while they were away. Their wedding date was approaching fast, and the thought of their big day eased her worries but amplified them simultaneously. 

(Y/N) tore open one of the letters, her eyes scanning over the neat cursive with a subtle smile on her face. 

Dear Cursebreaker, 

(Y/N) Selwyn, I wanted to reaffirm how honored I am to hold the position as stylist for this special occasion. I’m sure you’ll recall our previous correspondence where I told you not to stress about any of the fashion choices for your wedding. But knowing you, you’ve spent hours tearing through magazines trying to find the perfect wedding dress and bridesmaids’ dresses.

But I am a man of my word and I intend to provide one of my best friends an eye-catching gown with bridesmaids’ dresses to match. I have enclosed the finalized – and colorized – sketches of your wedding gown and the dresses the girls will be wearing. I’ve included three options for your dress and two for the bridesmaids’ dresses. You’ve never mentioned a maid of honor, but I designed a variant just in case you picked one without informing me. 

Write to me as soon as possible so I can finalize the preparations. If all goes accordingly, your dress should be finalized before Christmas. 

I hope you’re intending on wearing a tiara, I think it would tie everything together and I included them in the drawings so you could visualize it. In all honesty, I truly think this is my best work as your style-Wizard and I expect some well-deserved credit at your reception. 

All jokes aside, take a look at the dresses and send me your response, along with the measurements of your selected maid of honor and bridesmaids. Also, tell Charlie to write back as soon as possible. I sent him his dress robes options ages ago and he hasn’t sent a letter back, I should honestly charge him for it. 

That was another joke, I’m not taking any form of payment from either of you. That’s final so don’t even try to debate me on that. 

I can’t believe you two are finally getting married. You don’t know how long everyone has been thinking about this day, I can’t wait to see everyone. 

I hope you and Charlie are well.

Best Regards, 

Your friend and best style wizard in all of Europe, 

Andre Egwu

(Y/N) reached into the envelope and pulled out several pieces of parchment, each containing intricately painted dress designs in various shades of white, silver, and gold with a thin red sash tied around the waist. She smiled brightly at the letter and tucked the contents back in the envelope, setting it in the bin labeled “important” to remind herself to take a better look at them tomorrow morning. 

She turned back towards the kitchen countertop, gathering the letters from Gringotts, as well as notices from the Ministry of Magic, and sorting them into their respective piles. Charlie came out of the entrance closet where he stashed his dragon-hyde boots and the rest of his fireproof gear to the sound of the rustling of papers. Shaking his head, he turned into the kitchen with a faint smile. 

Even after all their hard work in Romania, she still managed to find another task to keep herself occupied. 

“I don’t think so,” Charlie uttered, pulling (Y/N) away from the mess, and gently pushing her against the kitchen wall. Charlie admired her beauty once more, placing his calloused hand on her waist, “You’ve been working all day, I’ll be damned if I see you cleaning this late” He spoke, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. 

“Charlie,” whined (Y/N), crossing her arms with a pout when her fiancé caged her in, “You know we’re behind on preparations,” she explained, placing her hands on his shoulders, and massaging them gently, “And you haven’t replied to Andre, he’s growing rather tense and so are you, it seems.” He caught himself admiring her once again, admiring how easy it was for her to read him. Charlie thought back to their years at Hogwarts and those moments where she would bring him exactly what he was craving for dinner or when she silently comforted him, even though he had not spoken about what bothered him. And even though he immediately eased up under her touch, his goal to keep her relaxed was unshakable. 

“You, my love,” hummed Charlie, running his thumb against the apples of her cheeks, “Are going to take a nice, warm bath while I make you dinner.” (Y/N) smiled up at Charlie lovingly, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling her face in his broad chest, “What if I want you in the bath with me?” She asked playfully, her hands sliding down his waist and into the back pockets of his work trousers. 

Charlie chuckled darkly, his hands sliding towards the back of her thighs and lifting her off the ground, wrapping her legs around his hips, “Who am I to deny the lady what she wants?” boasted Charlie, tightly gripping the back of her thighs, and leaning his lips close to hers. 

“Such a gentleman,” (Y/N) muttered breathily, her hands gliding through Charlie’s and her nose brushing against his. Her soft lips brushed delicately against his, close enough so he could inhale her breath and feel the warmth radiating off her skin. Charlie’s heart pounded harshly against his chest; the feeling of her lips so close yet so far sending a subtle shiver down his spine. Understanding why she paused, Charlie closed the gap between them, his lips perfectly molding against hers and she swore she felt time stop. 

It did not matter how many times they shared a kiss, it still felt like that moment on the Quidditch Pitch. That moment when Charlie pushed through the crowds of cheering Gryffindors, the house cup forgotten in the hands of another team member, to pull her in for an electrifying kiss, one that set the course of their loving relationship. (Y/N) was so captivated by their kiss that she did not notice when Charlie expertly moved up the stairs and towards the master bathroom. 

It wasn’t until he set her down on the bathroom sink that she opened her eyes, laughing wholeheartedly as Charlie bent down to open the warm water, his endearing chuckle echoing through the bathroom. 

“You’re quite sneaky, aren’t you?” questioned (Y/N) teasingly, hopping off the countertop and making her way towards Charlie, her cold hands sliding underneath his long-sleeve making him jump. 

“And what does that make you?” He retorted flirtatiously and gripping her wrists, pulling her against his chest, his hand trailing down to the side of her neck. 

“Hm, a demiguise, maybe?” She asked innocently, her eyes shifting upwards in mock pondering and Charlie rolled his impatiently, tugging the hem of her jumper and slipping it off her body. 

“Of course, how could I have missed that? The long hair honestly seals the deal. Although…” He trailed off, his eyes scanning her bare torso and sneaking a hand behind her, his fingers drumming towards the clasp of her bra, “I’ve only ever seen your eyes light up like that when your squirming underneath me–” 

“Charlie!” (Y/N) exclaimed, gaping open mouthed at the blushing red-head and failing to catch her bra as it slipped down her front. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her exposed breasts, and slid past her fiancée, “Enough playing around,” she stated firmly, turning her back towards him and unbuttoning her trousers, letting her panties fall on the floor with them and sliding into the warm water, “Get in before I change my mind” She grinned, splashing a handful of water across his chest. 

Charlie scoffed, but pulled off his shirt by the neck, almost tripping over his trousers as he tugged them off with urgency, “Alright, alright! I surrender!” With that, he sunk behind (Y/N), pulling her against his chest and peppering kisses against her cheek. 

The Burrow. December 5th, 1994.

“Oh, my dear!” Cried Mrs. Weasley, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as (Y/N) turned in her wedding dress. Andre Egwu stood behind her, proudly gazing and his handiwork and twisting the red sash so the diamond snowflake brooch sat comfortably on the left. 

“Come on,” Andre crooned, “tell me I’m a genius” he prodded with a smirk, stepping back to stand beside Mrs. Weasley with his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, but turned to admire herself in the mirror, “I’m going to have to admit it this time,” she acknowledged, looking back at the satin train of her A-line gown, the tails of her red bow falling shorter than it, “You truly have outdone yourself, Andre. I really can’t thank you enough” 

Mrs. Weasley dabbed her eyes with her apron, sniffling as (Y/N) spoke, “You look radiant, (Y/N)! Charlie is going to faint when he sees you,” she beamed and walked to her, pulling her in for a tight hug. 

“But I still think you’re missing something,” Andre chimed in, drumming his fingers against the old brown box sitting on the bedroom dresser, “Like we discussed, Mrs. Weasley?” He added and (Y/N) raised a questioning eyebrow as Mrs. Weasley scurried to the desk and opened the box, shielding its contents from the soon to be bride. 

“It was Auntie Tessie’s wedding tiara,” Mrs. Weasley spoke up, beaming as she faced (Y/N), the sparkling headpiece held delicately in her hands. 

(Y/N)’s jaw almost hit the floor. Of course, she had expected Mrs. Weasley to pull out all the stops for their wedding, but she never thought she’d be hiding such a luxurious piece. 

“Mrs. Weasley– You can’t mean–,” stuttered (Y/N), shaking her head vigorously and her eyes jumping from Andre’s grinning face to Mrs. Weasley’s loving smile. 

“I do, dear,” she reassured, beckoning for her to come closer, “Andre sent me the letter when you picked your wedding dress! Of course, he didn’t know I would have the perfect piece to tie everything together, but Auntie Tessie left this behind when she passed and she especially fond of Charlie,” she began to explain, gazing down at the tiara and turning it to set it on (Y/N)’s head, “She wanted his future wife to wear it down the aisle. If that’s alright with you, of course.” 

(Y/N) turned to face the mirror once again, but this time focusing on the five sparkling rubies in the crystal tiara, “I don’t know what to say,” she forced out, overwhelmed with emotion at the sight of herself in a wedding dress, “And, yes. I want to wear this tiara, are you having a laugh?!” She exclaimed excitedly, tears welling up in her eyes as she threw her arms around her future mother-in-law, “You’ve been nothing, but kind to me all these years. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” 

“My dear,” sniffled Mrs. Weasley, “How many times must I tell you? Charlie is the happiest I’ve ever seen him and that is all because of you, (Y/N)” she explained honestly, her hand rubbing up and down her back as they embraced, “All these years, he’s only spoken about you. How you make him feel and how important you are to him.” 

“Mrs. Weasley–”

“I think it’s high time you started calling me Molly, dear” interrupted Mrs. Weasley, pulling out of her embrace and holding (Y/N)’s shoulders tightly, “You’re going to make a wonderful bride, my darling” 

(Y/N) let out a small sob, her arms wrapping around her fiancé’s mother once again, “Thank you, Molly” she whispered, wiping her tears away and smiling down at her as tears streamed down both their faces. 

“I hate to interrupt,” Andre chimed in from behind them, the grin still evident on his face, “but I think we should get (Y/N) out of that dress before Charlie ruins the surprise.” 

The women nodded in agreement and (Y/N) removed the tiara, handing it to Molly, who returned it to its velvety cushioned box. 

“I’m going to go work on dinner, I’ll see the two of you down there in a bit,” She announced happily, exiting the room and descending the stairs to her kitchen. 

“Andre–” (Y/N) started, holding her friend by the elbows, “I have to find some way to repay you. After all these years– I mean, you made my first date outfit for Godric’s sake and you’ve never let me pay you once–”

“And I never will.” he retorted defiantly, “Your friendship is far more precious than some stupid galleons,” Explained Andre, placing his hand on her cheek, “You helped me find my passion in fashion design, you and McNully taught me how to become the best Keeper Ravenclaw house had ever seen and,” he paused, shifting around so she could look at herself in the mirror, “even though we’re not at school, you invite me to all your adventures and Ministry events. You and Charlie have given me so much and you don’t even realize it.” 

Andre took a step back, holding (Y/N)’s hands in admiration, “You deserve the very best on your wedding day, and so does Charlie. I’m just glad I’ve been along for the ride, but if you’re so adamant of repaying me,” he grinned, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, “Save me a dance the day of your wedding, that’s all I ask for.” 

The waterworks came once again, (Y/N) let out a small sob as she threw her arms around her long-term friend, “Of course, Andre,” she agreed, her voice wavering while they embraced, “Thank you so much for everything.” 

Andre smiled, his hand resting at the back of her head, “Anytime, Cursebreaker.” He muttered, “But we should get you out of that dress, I need to fix Charlie’s dress robes before dinner.” 

(Y/N) nodded in agreement and stepped out of his grasp, watching Andre head towards the door, “Make sure he doesn’t look better than me!” She joked as the door opened and Andre let out a hearty chuckle. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” He shot her a wink and slipped out of the room, the door closing gently behind him and his voice booming down the stairs while he yelled for Charlie. 

(Y/N) laughed when she heard Charlie’s startled yell and the door to his bedroom slamming open. Her hands slid down the soft satin of her dress, the rhinestone straps glinting as the sunset over the horizon and the ghost of a smile decorating her relaxed features. 

“Only a month away,” she thought joyfully and hung up the dress in its black garment bag before joining Molly in the kitchen. 

Scotland. January 5th, 1995. 

Wedding preparations were in full swing at the home of Charlie Weasley and (Y/N) Selwyn. The family of the bride and groom ran up and down the house, folding the seating arrangements and fixing any stray flower bouquets that remained in the kitchen. 

“George!” Bellowed Mrs. Weasley as he and Fred slid down the bannister, their ties around their heads and vests unbuttoned, “You two better straighten up before the guests arrive!” 

“Molly dear,” Mr. Weasley spoke up from behind her, his hands running down her arms soothingly, “They’re just excited, I’m sure they’ll settle down soon” 

Mrs. Weasley placed her hand over her husband’s while the other soothed the velvet of her elegant green dress, “I’m sure you’re right, Arthur. I just want everything to be perfect for Charlie and (Y/N)’s special day.” 

“I know, Mollywobbles,” he muttered, pressing a kiss against his wife’s forehead as she blushes furiously, her cheeks turning as red as her hair.

“Come now, Arthur,” she urged, but unable to fight the smile that formed on her face, “Let us go finish up the tent” 

Outside stood Charlie, running up and down the wedding tent, yelling orders to his younger brothers who had, apparently, never seen this side of Charlie before. 

“No–! Percy!” He groaned, straightening the ribbon against the back of it, “Over and under, like this!” Charlie twisted the ribbon, leaving a delicate bow to decorate the pearl white chairs. 

“I am perfectly capable of tying a ribbon, Charles.” declared Percy pompously, demonstrating his bow-tying skills on the next chair, but struggling a little more than Charlie had. 

Charlie let out a small sigh, adjusting his tie and the lapels of his red and black dress robes, “I know,” he admitted solemnly, “I just want everything to be perfect, (Y/N)’s spent so long planning this–” 

“Don’t worry,” Percy interjected, “With William and I here, everything is bound to go smoothly.” He grinned, placing his hand on his older brother’s shoulder, “We’re the most responsible and we’ll make sure everything goes smoothly, for you and (Y/N)” 

Charlie sighed, but this time out of relief, his arms wrapping tightly around Percy, “Thank you for being here, Perce. I know it wasn’t easy to get time off.” 

Percy let out a small scoff, “You think I would miss my brother’s wedding? Mr. Crouch’s cauldron bottoms can wait until after the ceremony, even though it’s rather painful to put off my work for this long.” 

Charlie fought back the urge to ruffle his brother’s hair, “When did you get so grown up?” He asked playfully, “I still remember you killing spiders for Ronnie.” 

Percy rolled his eyes at his remark, but smiled nonetheless, “We all grow up eventually, Charlie. Just look at today, I could not be prouder of you and I know Mum and Dad are too.”

Charlie thanked Percy with another hug, but their moment was interrupted by Bill, who was waving his wand towards the marital archway, making light silvery roses appear in between the bright red ones, “Oi! Guests are arriving in twenty minutes, we’ve got time for friendly chats later, but we really need to get everything together before they apparate!”

Percy nodded in agreement, striding down the silver carpet and clearing out a path through the snow, raising another set of tents from the entrance of their house towards the wedding tent. Charlie joined his brother near the archway, clapping him on the shoulder and waving his wand so the rest of the flowers appeared on top of the seat ribbons. 

A gaggle of women hid inside the master bedroom on the second story of their home, a half-empty champagne bottle resting on the vanity with six empty glasses surrounding it. Six girls stood around the bedroom window, gazing down at the boys in the garden with wide grins, “This dress is quite beautiful!” exclaimed Rowan Khanna, turning to examine herself in the mirror, “Andre truly has outdone himself!” Her dress was slightly different than the other girls. It was still made out of the same silver fabric as the other ones, but her’s contained an array of silver crystals covering the left side of the bodice while a ruched one-shoulder sleeve came up and around her right shoulder 

“I agree,” chimed in Penny Haywood, twirling around in her floor-length silver dress, “I can’t believe the day is finally here!” she squealed. Her dress also contained a ruched one-shoulder strap but lacked the bodice crystals in favor of a criss-cross fabric belt around her dress, “Tonks! Stop messing with it!” 

Nymphadora Tonks shifted in her seat as Penny attempted to soothe her bright pink hair, which she had grown out to shoulder length for the occasion, “It looks too neat!” complained Tonks, ruffling her unnaturally straight hair, and curling the bottoms of it with her wand. Tonks and Tulip were wearing the second variation of Andre’s dress, it contained the same details as the others, the only difference being the two straps in contrast to the one-shoulder Penny and Merula wore. 

“I think it looks quite nice,” muttered Merula Snyde, gazing at her straightened hair, “Don’t you think this color brings out my eyes?” She asked absentmindedly, her hands running over the chiffon gown.

“Oh, please” groaned Tulip Karasu with a grin, “That’s what you said during the Celestial Ball!” 

Merula glared towards Tulip, “And was I wrong?” she asked, throwing one of the satin dressing gowns they wore while getting ready. The two girls broke out in a fit of laughter, launching the dressing robes at each other and dodging them swiftly and the other bridesmaids joining in until the sound of the bathroom door opening caught their attention. 

“Merlin’s beard,” gasped Rowan at the sight of her best friend standing underneath the doorway, an angelic glow radiating off her, “(Y/N), you look–”

“Breathtaking,” finished Merula, her lips curling into a devious smile, “Weasley is going to lose his mind when he sees you.” 

Penny nodded in agreement, rushing to (Y/N)’s side and taking her by the hand, “I promised you I wouldn’t cry, but I honestly think I am going to break down during the ceremony.” admitted Penny, and the other girls joined her around the bride. 

“You guys,” (Y/N) smiled sheepishly, gazing around her friends, and pulling them all in for a messy group hug, “I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she admitted, a sniffle resonating through the room as she pulled back, “And you’re all here, what more could I ask for?”

“How ‘bout a sack of galleons from your boss at Gringotts?” joked Merula, slapping (Y/N)’s arms and laughing along with the rest of the girls. Rolling her eyes, (Y/N) returned Merula’s slap with one of her own and stepped towards the vanity table to add the finishing touches to her hair. 

“Oh! Let me help you,” exclaimed Rowan, rushing behind (Y/N) and picking her wand up from the table, “I’ve spent hours reading hair-spell books, I want to be the world’s best Maid of Honor!” She ran her fingers delicately through the curls of (Y/N)’s hair, waving her wand and uttering an incantation so a thin stream of hairspray sprayed out of the tip. Unlike ordinary hairspray, this magical substance would ensure the curls stayed intact even if she stood in a hurricane zone. 

(Y/N) smiled at Rowan through the mirror, fighting back the tears that were welling up in her eyes, “Rowan, I’m so glad you’re here, I still remember when we first met and the wonderful scarf I picked out for you” 

Rowan laughed as she sprayed another curl in place, “I still have that scarf, it was approved by Andre and everything so you should start calling yourself a style-wizard as well.” As the two best friends reminisced, Penny and Tonks were opening the brown-leather box, gaping at the tiara with admiration and carefully wiping it with polish to amplify its shine. 

“Some guests are arriving,” Tulip announced, looking out the window with Merula, the two of them craning their necks to see the small group pass through the snow led by Percy and Molly Weasley who bore wide grins. 

In the sitting room, the groom and his groomsmen gathered around the kitchen island, six glasses of firewhiskey resting on the countertop, “No, I-I really shouldn’t” Charlie pleaded, raising his hand out to block the shot glass his best-man, Andre, was forcing into his grasp. 

“Just one!” urged Andre, wiggling the glass in front of him as Bill and Barnaby raised their own in celebration, “(Y/N)’s had her champagne! I saw the glass, I promise!”

“I’m even having one, Charlie!” added Ben Copper, raising his glass to meet Barnaby and Bill, earning a laugh from Jacob Selwyn as he rounded the corner of the island, his own shot glass in hand.

“Charlie, I know you and my baby-sis talked about it and in all honesty, mate…” started Jacob, his eyes scanning Charlie’s tense behavior, “You need to loosen up a little, I saw you yelling at chair ribbons before the guests arrived.” 

The groomsmen laughed, earning a small scoff of amusement from Charlie, “Alright, alright!” He boomed, snatching the glass from Andre, and raising it into the circle with the rest of his men, “But I’m making you all take three at the reception!” 

“That’s fine by me!” cheered Barnaby Lee, “We don’t have drinks at work; they’re all a bunch of prats really” he jested, gazing at the firewhiskey bottle longingly, “I’ll do however many you want!” 

“Enough talking! To Charlie and (Y/N)!” bellowed Bill Weasley, flashing a toothy smile while Jacob patted Charlie’s back encouragingly. Jacob’s relationship with (Y/N) had strengthened significantly as years passed and although he loved having a younger sister, a part of him always wanted a brother. And, after months of getting to know him, finally found one in Charlie. 

The groom and his groomsmen down their shots, slamming the decorative glasses down on the countertop and filing out of the house, excitedly patting Charlie on the back as they urged him out the front door. Several minutes later, the girls, in their matching silver dresses, came down the stairs excitedly waving their red and white bouquets. 

(Y/N) came down the stairs, her dress and veil trailing behind her as she gripped the banister, her other hand carrying her much larger bouquet which contained a set of additional black roses mixed in with the red and white ones to match with Charlie’s robes. With the guests settled in their seats, Jacob ran back into the house and past the curtains dividing the tent connected to the front door. 

“Look at you...” He gaped, his eyes wide in admiration when he finally caught sight of his little sister in her wedding gown, the sparkling tiara sitting perfectly atop her head, “I wish Mum and Dad could see you.” added Jacob in a whisper, reaching for her hands and smiling softly as their eyes met. 

“Me too,” added (Y/N) earnestly, “We’ll visit their grave before the honeymoon, it’s not much, but it’s the least we can do.” She proposed and Jacob nodded in agreement, squeezing his sister’s hands while she spoke. 

“I’ll tell you this, though,” chuckled Jacob, sneakily glancing out the tent as the music started, “I’m surprised Charlie isn’t sweating bullets, he looks more nervous than that time he asked for my permission.” The two siblings broke out in a fit of laughter, heading closer to the door as, unbeknownst to them, the wizard officiant began making his way down the decorated aisle, waving happily at the guests. 

“It’s almost time,” muttered (Y/N), butterflies fluttering in her stomach as they stood behind the icicle wedding curtains, “Oh my god, I’m getting married.” She could feel the nerves overcoming her excitement, a small lump forming in her throat as she worried about the many things that could go wrong, one being tripping down the aisle. 

“Hey,” Jacob spoke out, turning her by the shoulders while Charlie and Andre strode confidently down the aisle, the soft violin accompanying them as the sound of cheering whistles followed after them. “You, my dear sister, have dealt with cursed ice, magical ciphers, loony and manipulative professors, and  – not to mention –  spent the last few months taking care of hordes of dragons. The most dangerous creatures, according to the Ministry registry,” He explained comfortingly, his hands running down the side of her arms, “I think you can walk down this aisle and meet the man you love, and more importantly, who loves you without anything to worry about.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip at her brother’s words, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight hug, “Thank you, Jacob,” her voice wavering, “Thank you so much.” 

Jacob rubbed her back comfortingly, looking over her shoulder to see the bridesmaids making their way towards the archway, “Anytime, baby sister. Anytime.” 

“But” he added, pulling away from their hug and grabbing the first layer of her veil, pulling it over her face with a gentle smile, “I think Rowan is about to walk down and the only tears I want to see are Charlie’s.” Pressing a kiss against her cheek, Jacob turned his sister towards the curtain, bright smiles pulling at their lips. 

Charlie stood nervously at the archway, conspicuously twiddling his fingers as the song changed and the icicle curtains were pulled open by an unseen force of magic. At the sound of the change, Charlie looked up and as soon as he met (Y/N)’s gentle expression, all his worries slipped away, and his mind blocked out everyone else at the venue. 

He wanted to burn the image of (Y/N) in her stunning white dress into his memory. A sight he had been dreaming of since their one-year anniversary, one that surpassed the vision of her during their first date or the ones of her during the Celestial Ball. As she was led down the aisle by Jacob, Charlie made a mental note to thank Andre with the largest slice of cake or some-kind of present because this was, honestly, the perfect gown for (Y/N). 

The dazzling white pleated crisscross sweetheart neck bodice fit perfectly, the red sash around her middle accentuating her waist most breathtakingly. The small snowflake brooch on the left side of her sash sparkled brilliantly, matching perfectly with the delicate rhinestone straps that fell delicately over her shoulders. His eyes trailed upwards, his grin faltering at the sight of Great Auntie Tessie’s tiara underneath (Y/N)’s veil and he finally took notice of the tears that spilled out of his eyes. He hastily wiped them away, stepping down towards the carpet to meet (Y/N) and Jacob a few meters from the archway. Charlie grasped Jacob’s hand tightly, giving it a stern shake before taking (Y/N)’s hand delicately into his own, leading her in front of the officiant. 

Charlie held both of her hands, looking her over and sighing in amazement as he pulled the veil back, exposing her flushed face and the dazzling tiara, “You look–” He breathed out, unable to find an appropriate word to describe how incredibly gorgeous she looked.

“Breathtaking?” She finished with a mischievous gaze and placed a kiss against Charlie’s cheek who blushed furiously as they turned towards the officiant. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the sing-song voice of the officiant who raised his arms in acknowledgment to the couple as a collective silence fell over the crowd, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two beautiful faithful souls.” 

The wedding guests watched avidly, some moving towards the edge of their seats with intricate handkerchiefs as the couple turned sideways, their hands intertwined. 

“Do you Charles Septimus Weasley, take (Y/N) Selwyn to live together in marriage? to cherish in friendship and love today, tomorrow, and for as long as the two of you live, to trust and honor her? to love her faithfully, through the best and the worst, whatever may come, and if you should ever doubt, to remember your love for each other and the reason why you came together with her this day?” 

Charlie was nodding eagerly before the officiant had even finished his spiel, tears streaming down his face but an unwavering smile decorating his freckled face, “I do. More than anything in the world.” 

(Y/N) beamed back at him, squeezing his hands tightly and releasing them momentarily so Charlie could slip the wedding band onto her finger. The officiant turned towards (Y/N), the smile on his face widening as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Do you, (Y/N) Selwyn take Charles Septimus Weasley…” the words floated away from (Y/N)’s mind, she registered the officiant speaking but she could only focus on the man in front of her and how his hands felt in hers. The way his dress robes fit perfectly and how they brought out the color of his bright green eyes. She felt her hand moving on its own to grip the golden band and the words, “I do” sliding past her lips and she recalled it being the easiest phrase she ever had to say in her life. 

The two of them did not register the happy sobs of Mrs. Weasley in the front row or the audible sniffles of Barnaby, Penny, and Rowan beside them. They even blocked out the loud trumpeting noises at the back of the wedding venue that undoubtedly came from Hagrid with Professor McGonagall dabbing her eyes an aura of dignity by his side.

The two of them only returned to the present moment when the officiant uttered the words, “Then I declare you, bonded for life.” With that, a stream of glittering snowflakes came out from the tip of the officiant’s wand, spirling over (Y/N) and Charlie’s heads. 

“Come here,” Charlie practically growled, twirling (Y/N), pulling her in by the waist, and pressing his lips against her. At that moment, it felt like all the planets had aligned to create a timeless- one passionate moment that defined the future of their relationship. Overwhelmed by happiness, Charlie turned his wife in his arms and dipped her in front of the whole crowd, the sound of thundering claps and booming cheers filling the tent while they kissed. (Y/N)’s leg was lifted beside him, stretched perfectly and peeking underneath her gorgeous gown as the heat rose in her cheeks, that familiar sensation of liquid lightning coursing through her body. 

The newlyweds turned upright again, pressing their foreheads together as they laughed and returned to the tumultuous crowd surrounding them. Charlie and (Y/N) raised their intertwined hands and the excited guests rose from their seats, their chairs disappearing only to be replaced by the reception tables and an ample dance floor. Overlapping ‘congratulations’ came from the numerous guests, patting the couple in support as they made their way towards the dance floor with their wedding party. 

“I love you, more than you’ll ever know,” Charlie spoke out, spinning (Y/N) as they shared their first dance, the lights dimming around them as the crowd watched them. 

“I love you so much, Charles,” replied (Y/N), placing her hand on his cheek and leaning in to steal another kiss, “And I’ll spend every day showing you just how much.” Charlie let out a gleeful laugh, spinning his wife around the dance floor and pulling her towards their table once they finished. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” a soft voice caught their attention and they both turned to see Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall, and - to both their surprise - Professor Snape standing in front of them. 

“Professors!” (Y/N) exclaimed, “We’re so glad you could make it! We thought with the tournament it’d be difficult to get away-” 

“Nevermind that!” dismissed McGonagall, placing her hand on the bride’s shoulders, “I’m so proud of you and Charles,” she gushed, unlike her usually composed self, a small hint of moisture underneath her eyes, “Professor Dumbledore insisted we attend.”

“Yes,” added Snape in his usual tone, unlike McGonagall, he was devoid of any emotion, “Even I have to congratulate you on this joyous occasion,” he explained, his black eyes scanning over the crowd and back on his former pupil, “It seems Selwyn- or must I say, Weasley, that you have grown into a capable young witch. One Slytherin house was very proud to have.” 

(Y/N), overcome with the emotion of the celebration, wrapped her arms around the Hogwarts Potions’ Master who returned her embrace with a very stiff pat on the back, “Come now, Severus.” Dumbledore added gleefully, his eyes twinkling with excitement, “I’m sure Mrs. Weasley is just happy to see you.” 

Charlie let out a small snort, unable to contain his laughter as Snape recoiled and his wife returned to his side, “But Minerva is right, we are all very proud of you and I am not one to miss a wonderful evening to celebrate love.” 

“Please, help yourselves with food and drink!” urged Charlie, gesturing towards the tables and bar, “We’ll be resuming the dancing shortly, we’re so thrilled to have you here.” He finishing confidently, shaking Dumbledore’s hand who returned his smile with one of his own. 

“Will do,” He agreed with a nod of the head, “We’ll leave you two to it then!” With that, the three Professors trailed off to speak with Charlie’s parents who stood excitedly at the bar. 

“Do you think I went a bit overboard?” asked (Y/N) cautiously once they left, a small giggle overcoming her as Charlie vigorously shook his head, “Are you mad? It’s our wedding day, we’re allowed to go overboard.” He reassured, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Well, if that’s the case… I could use a drink,” she whispered coquettishly but was interrupted by their wedding party clearing their throats behind them. 

“Wow, Weasley,” Merula pipped up, “I thought you were an excellent Legilimens, if you were, you could’ve heard us coming from a mile away” she teased with Rowan waving a shot glass as (Y/N) turned around. 

“You’re not allowed to tease today, Merula!” She exclaimed happily, taking the shot glass from her and pulling Charlie along so he could grab his from Andre, “I’m a married woman now! I get a free pass!” 

Merula rolled her eyes but gave in to her request, “As long as you take this drink, I won’t say anything!”

“Who knew it only alcohol to get Merula to lay off?” Barnaby quipped, earning a small punch which hurt her from than him due to the considerable amount of muscle he gained throughout the years. 

“I’m not going to wait any longer!” threatened Ben, raising his shot glass towards Charlie, “Ready?” he announced and everyone raised their glasses in a circle, “To life and happiness!” 

“To life and happiness!” They bellowed in unison, downing the chocolate vodka liqueur and extending their glasses towards Bill, who had hidden the bottle behind his back.

“Charlie did say three!” He announced, replicating the sing-song voice of the old officiant, “So everyone better have an excellent tolerance tonight because we’re celebrating until dawn!” 

Tonks threw an arm excitedly around Penny’s shoulders, almost spilling the contents of their shot glasses but laughing as Bill continued to pour their drinks. 

“You better switch up the drinks then!” Tulip muttered while sniffing the glass, grimacing at the strong scent of alcohol that practically burned her nostrils, “I’m more of a firewhiskey girl.”

“I’m going to have to agree,” nodded Jacob, “Not about the girl part, but I do like to mix things up… I wonder if they’ll prepare my specialty drink at the bar,” he pondered, looking longingly at the bar with a mischievous smirk. 

“On three!” Andre yelled, catching everyone’s attention and he gestured towards Rowan so she could join in on the count down. 

“Three!” Andre and Rowan finished chanting, throwing their heads back and swallowing their drinks before bellowing out indistinct cheers. 

“I know you guys said three-” whined Penny, shaking her hands in front of her glass but it was snatched away by (Y/N) so Bill could pour their final shot, “Oh, come on! At least let me breathe!” 

“You’ll breathe when we eat and dance!” dismissed Tonks, forcing the glass back into Penny’s hands who reluctantly raised it towards the happy couple, “Your turn!”

“Ready?” Charlie asked (Y/N), a dark blush spreading across his cheeks as he felt the early onsets on the alcohol affecting his body, “Let’s do that arm thing we talked about…” he whispered excitedly, pressing soft kisses against her cheek making her giggle. 

“You’re so in love, Mr. Weasley,” She muttered with a small shake of the head, “But so am I” (Y/N) pressed a kiss against his nose and linked her arm around his, “On three!” she exclaimed, forcing her glass as close to her lips as possible. On three, the wedding party downed their third shot of the evening, some of them shivering as the alcohol coursed down their esophagus. 

“Alright, let’s dance!” yelled Ben and Barnaby, pulling the bridesmaids away towards the dance floor to join the rest of the excited guests. 

“If you don’t mind,” interjected Andre, extending his hand towards (Y/N), “I do believe you owe me a dance?” he reminded her, and (Y/N) quickly slid her hand into his. 

“You’re quite right, most notable style-wizard of all Europe,” she replied, shooting Charlie an apologetic look but he only smiled, “Don’t worry,” He reassured, “I’ve got to see Mum and Dad.”

Andre pulled (Y/N) away towards the dance floor, the two of them spinning away towards the middle with wide grins. Charlie joined his family, who overwhelmed them with hugs and kisses, including his thirteen-year-old sister who had traveled with Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid to be there for the occasion. The rest of the guests danced and conversed excitedly, eating away at the delicious food the white-robed servers had brought to their tables. 

Jacob Selwyn sat at one of the farthest tables, exchanging stories with his sister’s old prefect, Felix Rosier who was accompanied by Angelica Cole, the former Gryffindor prefect. Sometime during the evening, Hagrid appeared in front of (Y/N) and Charlie Weasley in his mole-skin coat and tears streaming down his face, lifting them both up from the ground as he happily embraced the two of them. 

“So grown-up” cried Hagrid, wiping his tears away when he set them down, “I remember when yeh were both this tall” he gestured downwards, replicating their heights during the first-year and the couple nodded happily, red tinges on both their cheeks as the giggled at Hagrid’s remarks. 

The rest of the night went by smoothly, exchanging numerous conversations with witches and wizards they could hardly remember their names of due to the amount of alcohol in their system. (Y/N) was spun around the dancefloor but all of the Weasley siblings, even performing an impressive three-person tango with Fred and George, who seemed to have more to drink than the newlyweds themselves. Charlie was joined on the dance floor by his mother and father, his best man, and, at one point, Jacob who had raised him onto his shoulders at the climax of the song. 

While they were dancing, Ronald Weasley explained his blunder with Hermione at the ball to (Y/N), who automatically dragged him away to the muggle-born witch to correct his mistake and giggled excitedly when she saw the two twirling in a small circle with Harry and Ginny at their side. Some of the guests began to politely excused themselves by midnight, waving the couple off after leaving the gifts at the respective table and heading out towards the garden to the designated disappartation point. 

The celebration did not stop until the first hints of sunlight gleamed over the horizon. At that point, most of the younger guests had retreated inside the home to sleep on transfigured mattresses set up throughout the newlyweds’ home. Rowan and Bill had to forcibly escort (Y/N) and Charlie away from the dance floor since the two expressed their desire to stay until the sun shone above them but kept closing their eyes as they embraced. 

“Come on, little brother” chuckled Bill, winking at Rowan as he pushed Charlie, who continued to hum the processional song, up the stairs. Rowan blushed furiously at Bill’s actions but kept her eyes on (Y/N), who was spinning Great Aunt Tessie’s ruby tiara in her hands at the rhythm of Charlie’s humming, “I’ll have to thank you for that,” whispered Rowan excitedly, gazing longingly up at Bill and successfully getting the couple into the bedroom. 

Bill removed their shoes while they giggled on the bed, exchanging several kisses while Rowan secured the tiara in its leather box, “Think we should help them change?” asked Rowan, turning towards Bill, but quickly realizing the answer to her question. 

“I think that’ll be a no,” declared Bill, running a hand through his hair and extending the other towards Rowan, “Let’s go before we see something we don’t need to see. I think I saw an empty mattress in the room Andre is staying in.” Rowan nodded stiffly, sliding her hand into Bill’s and quickly closing the door behind her, locking the door for good measure. 

On the bed, Charlie shrugged off his overcoat and threw it to the side while (Y/N) pulled on his tie, undoing it and tossing it with the rest of his outfit. His lips mashed against hers, his tongue pushing past her teeth as she gripped his head firmly, locking him in their embrace as she fell back on the mattress and her dress pooled underneath her. 

“My dress,” she moaned against Charlie’s lips and he let out a small laugh, shrugging his dress shirt off and reaching behind for the zipper of her dress, “Of course, we can’t desecrate such a delicate creation,” he mumbled against her lips and lifted her up so she could wiggle out of it. (Y/N) laughed as the cold air hit her body, winking at Charlie as his eyes widened at the sight of the bright-white lacy lingerie she had hidden under her dress.

“Like what you see?” she teased, attempting to wriggle away from his grip, but he caught her by the waist and pulled her onto her back, “Don’t you dare, my darling” growled Charlie, pressing harsh kisses against her neck and pulling her stocking-clad thighs around his waist. 

“I love you,” gasped (Y/N) as Charlie groped her breast, her fingernails digging into his broad back and her hips grinding upwards to meet his, “So so much.” Charlie cupped her cheek, harshly pulling her up to exchange another kiss, not satisfied – no matter how mesmerizing they were – by the previous ones. 

“More,” groaned Charlie, his red-hair falling over his eyes as he pulled away to mutter against her lips, “I love you more” he breathed out, pressing kisses in between each word and pulling his wand out of his trousers, and uttering inaudible silencing charms towards the door. 

The two of them grasped messily at each other, running their hands over each others’ bodies and leaving marks that would surely be visible in the afternoon.

[werezmastarbucks]

columbus

honeymoon masterlist

word count: 2608

music: little death by +44, violence violence violence by tuff turf, inspiration by red 7

Every day he asked, what do you wanna do today?

After you finally allowed to leave the little, boring, flat island, Kai was so greatful he was down almost to anything. It was also the time when your chaotic, time wasting, unpredictable movements across the surface of the earth started dying down and turning into something more systematic. Although all the places you visited up to that moment were somehow connected with searching for a way out, once you started giving up you suddenly had a plan.

Not for breaking out fo the prison though.

The day (you still felt weird thinking it: the day. Every day was the same day. It was all today. It was all Kai’s birthday) you realized there was nothing much more you could do actively you had one of those moments when your brain suddenly feels like it has had enough. Like in the old times, when you were a teenager and had regular panic attacks after the Katherine accident. Not that you needed a specific reason to justify breaking here and there, with the style of life you were leading.

It happened when you were high, in a literal meaning. On the top of the bridge, where you two climbed up to watch the sun go down. Dublin was a city with lots of low roofs, incredibly cute; neat streets drowning in flowers, and all. Standing there, as you realized the panic is climbing at your throat, there was one question in your head: so, we’re staying here?

Although it’s nice, and everything is so easy, and traveling is quick, we’re staying here?

Although he is good, and he likes me, and I start trusting him, and he clearly tries to be nice, we’re staying here?

Although deep down inside I am starting to think this was exactly what I needed, in a twisted way, to get my head straight, to have an opportunity to dig something up in Kai, we’re staying here for good? Because you didn’t know if you could handle this. You had no idea how he handled this. It wasn’t about the general horror of being completely alone without seeing birds. It was looking at the empty sky and feeling the incredible weight of it, all on top of the head. It was the sound of the wind flying across the land uninterrupted, the quiet of the night undisturbed. It was more than you could describe. It was almost like drowning in space.

Kai had to get you down using magic, and you didn’t have enough breath to tell him not to waste it. Saving magic was a kind of a ritual as well, something that kept you on your feet because it gave you hope for once we get out.

You screamed into the face of green late spring lawn under the violet sky. Kai stood by, watching you without pity in his eyes for he never seemed to exhibit much compassion for you; he showed his presence in a different way. It actually helped; you never felt better if someone held you as you broke down. He then tried to console you, standing shoulder by shoulder, and pointing at the sky,

“Consider this. Nothing like that back in Maldives, right?”

The colors changed and drifted across the sky because here, in Ohio, there were clouds.

You sniffed busily.

“You like being home, don’t you?”

Kai nodded.

“Yeah. I feel connected. You know?”

“Did you feel as connected in the future?”

He shrugged.

“There’s been too much commotion. And before that, none at all. I exist in the past. I exist in the future. I stopped feeling time, you know? I’m a time lord”, he concluded, satisfied, and his eye glinted at you. You chuckled, and the chuckle turned into a deep sigh full of sweet evening air.

“We’re not going back, are we?” you asked weakly. Kai looked at you almost flabbergasted.

“We are. One day. Maybe even today”.

You smiled, tiredly.

“You’re giving up now? Hey, you think I wanna be here? I’ll think of something, don’t be upset”.

That was about the most warm words he uttered to you in the whole time. You felt there’d be more to come.

Truth was, you really started believing he was now better off than before.

“So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

Once you got relieved from the permanent worry about the time wasting, about finding the loopholes you haven’t thought of, you finally could just... enjoy.

You looked at him and wondered if he knew everything there was to know. Whether he looked like a guy who could skateboard. He certainly did to you, but hey, the beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

“Can you teach me how to skateboard?”

His brows went up.

“I’m sorry. You can’t skateboard?”

“Nope”.

“You made me listen to your five hundred sixty one song playlist named ‘skate pop punk’“, he reminded you.

“Yeah, I compiled it out of sad nostalgia for the times I missed on, while I, you know, was preoccupied with vampires swarming my town”.

“I can’t believe I have an eye for you, and you can’t skate. You know you’re in ‘94, right?”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking”.

“Jesus”.

“Come on now”, you chanted, your voice a little hoarse, “you spent eighteen years here with all the time on your hands and haven’t learnt to swim”.

“That’s because water is scary”.

“So is the asphalt hitting you in the face”.

Kai clicked his tongue.

“Okay, I’m on it. But for that, we have to go to Columbus”.

“Of course we do”, you nodded, having no idea why Columbus. You loved the city, though, so you had no objections.

You asked yourself, if he has been pretending with the Mystic Falls people, too. He kept on going about how you, in his mind, for sure, hid your feelings for him, wanting to expose you for your hypocrisy. But this place had its effect on him, too. He clang on you. He was different. He was more than tolerable. He made you laugh and he cared about what you thought about his cooking. You wondered if he realized he’d been pretending, too.

Kai never missed a chance to place his hands on your waist. Pushing you in the back, he was enjoyin the role of the teacher, but he was trying to grow into it even more. It seemed he was missing role playing, the social kind to which all the adults are subjected, like mad.

Two minutes after you asked him, as you hopped into the car (family Toyota of mediocre grey color), excited, he started talking about every little detail there was to skating. Turned out, he knew absolutely everything about it. Every last trick had been rehearsed by him a thousand times, and though he wasn’t a natural born athlete, he demonstrated pretty damn good knowledge of all the physical aspects. He talked, and talked, and talked, about which board to choose, and the kind of sneakers you’re going to need, and what street will be the best, and the time for practice, and the way he’ll teach you, and no matter how many times you turned up the music, he wouldn’t take a hint.

Not that you ever grew annoyed with him more than, like, 6 out of 10. It seemed you clicked just fine.

“Put your foot here”, he muttered, pushing your heel a little onto the board. You nearly fell over, leaning back on him and feeling his firm hold having your back.

“That’s the trickiest part. How am I supposed to...” falling backwards and colliding with him, you let the board shoot away from under you, and you two watched it roll a little forwards, “keep it under me if it has wheels?”

“Please, stop talking”, Parker moaned.

“Whatever happened to me ending on your dick sooner or later”, you grumbled, going to pick it up. Kai chuckled,

“It’s still on. Who knew fooling around with you would be just as fun”.

How does one love?

You observed him, stunned a little, and his impatiently outstretched hand. He rarely let you fall, but you managed anyway. Your left elbow was burning, and your knee was bleeding a little, blood forming a beautiful snowflake-like (his words) stain in the big hole cut through your jeans. People are only supposed to skate in torn pants, or in shorts, Kai hammered in a very important, responsible voice. You didn’t ask any questions. It was lore, and that was it. Skateboarding lore, like bird swimming.

“Not to lose it, you have to lean forwards, and shift your weight forward, too, a little”, he suggested.

“Here’s the question”, you held your elbow and tried to get a proper look at it, “if we heal, and nothing changes, if our organisms are stuck in this twenty-four hours circle, does the muscular memory still apply?”

“Oh, it does”.

“So, it’s me being terrible at skating”.

“Yeah. If you think of it, the people”, he spat that word like it was poison, “standing behind the whole prison world speck of spells haven’t thought it out too well. Like, your body doesn’t change. It makes very little sense to me”.

“Well, they wanted you to be here forever, without letting you die”.

“You come back at different time after you die”, he said, as if he hasn’t heard you, “every time. It seems like it depends on the way you die. I can’t grow a beard, but you can still learn how to do a cart wheel, because your body doesn’t lose the habit of automatical movements. Same with the brain”.

“Yeah, sounds like hell for a perfectionist”, you concluded, fidgeting with the board. There was connection between Malachai Parker loving it the most in America, of all places, and the fact he looked like he was born on this street. There were friendly looking family houses left and right, standing above smooth ground.

You liked it the most when he pushed you in the back, running beside you, and you tried to balance as you shot along the street. The wind in your hair, and the harsh sound of the polyurethane wheels on the road, and you screaming as the turn manifested itself. Kai didn’t notice the remains of a hole in the asphalt that’s been filled with cement. The little bump stood out like a tiny turtle, and, as one of the wheels stumbled upon it, the board jumped away from you. You felt the muscles of his arms tense as Kai tried to lift you up above the earth, but he was running too, and the acceleration did not let either of you stop in time.

You both leaped through the air about a meter, before crashing onto the sand ground. Kai nearly hit his head on the pole of the road sign indicating kids running somewhere around.

Groaning and ouching, you crawled out from underneath him and lay on your back. You panted and laughed, hissing with pain. It felt like you rubbed your tigh really hard against the curb, and it felt red.

“Once again”, you said.

“You’re pretty much hopeless”, Kai replied, without malice.

“More encouragement, please”.

“You’re pretty! Hopeless. By the way, I just got it. You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about why I jumped after you there in Koureménos. And realized you jumped with me the same way, right? You knew you were going down, and jumped anyway”.

You recalled Damon’s eyes for a second. Something you tried not to think about too much.

Truth was, you really thought he would stop. You didn’t expect Damon to send you away, too. You thought you’d be a wall between him and Kai.

The board shuffled on the ground and stopped there somewhere. All fell quiet.

“We both did a stupid thing, and it felt right”, he mused slowly, as if he was surprised his own mouth was saying it. You pulled yourself half way up, balanced yourself on one elbow (the unharmed one) and leaned over his face, kissing him.

You stayed in Columbus for a while, until you could finally master the skateboard. The board you chose, by the way, was very cool. It had a green a purple zombie face gritting its rotting teeth, and its faded pale yellowish eyes on a roll out. You kept it close to the door of the bedroom, zombie face to bed so that you could look at it. You really liked the design.

The bed heaved under Kai’s weight as he rolled on his back. You were listening to music, waiting for midnight. You never went to sleep before twelve o’clock, when the new today began, because it distorted sleep anyway. As your bodies returned back to default, it always woke you up.

“It makes no sense”, he complained. “It sounds just like the old ones”.

“That’s the point of the whole genre of the retrowave”, you sighed. In the twilight, with no street lights on (you personally broke half of them, practicing your aim with the stones), the zombie head seemed more vicious than it really was.

“Why not just listen to synth wave then?”

“Because the quality is different, and the melodies are still different. It’s fake retro. It reminds me of my youth”.

“You know what reminds me of my youth?” he said crossly, “listening to actually old music. I don’t understand this”.

You found his hair, getting your fingers in it and squeezing lightly. It calmed him down at once, all the time.

“You exist outside the time, you have no youth”, you reminded him.

“Right”, Kai was almost dozing off. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“You know what I was thinking?”

It was hard to keep your eyes open against the darkness of the room in this cute family house, on the Washington Street in Columbus, when Kai breathed right into your ear, nesting his face against the side of yours to distract you from his hand sliding down your belly.

He hummed. You had to catch his wrist to stop him from getting into your pants. Not to this song.

“We need to survive a zombie apocalypse. Shaun here gave me an idea”.

The skateboard zombie’s name was Shaun.

“Oh, that would be so cool!” Kai woke up at once. Your pants and what’s inside of them was forgotten. His eyes glowed in the dark like he was about to lash out on you with rage no less than a brain eater himself.

“We could get a really heavy car, and put up mannequins everywhere in the city, and shoot them”, you said. “We will get post-apocalyptic clothes and make a den somewhere in a high-high building that looks like a tower, and live without electricity. I’ll read you Stephen King at nights. You can reinvent radio”.

“Maybe I’ll bite your arm off”, he whispered, already jumping away into the fantasy, “and you’ll have to mercy shoot me until I turn into a complete animal”.

He crashed back onto bed and stared into the ceiling.

“If you bite my arm off, don’t you think you’re already too far gone? May as well eat me whole then. I don’t wanna go around without an arm”.

“Fair enough”.

You both sighed, thinking.

“But what place looks like it’s been ravaged by zombies?”

“Something like Escape from L.A., but not LA”, he muttered.

“Some city that has a lot of industrial districts and factories...”

Another pause, and then you looked at each other and shrieked at the same time,

“Boston!”

[emilianopavone]

@parasympathic

As expected, Emil woke up alone, the familiar tone of his alarm finally breaking through the haze of dreams. There was a particularly pleasant one he struggled to pull himself away from, one of whispered Italian and the soft press of lips against his shoulder, and he didn’t want to wake up until he could sort out the shapes of the words into their meaning, certain that they’d disappear as soon as he opened his eyes.

Eventually he did, the words melting away with the fading in of reality, one where he needed to craft a message to a man he hoped to never see again from a man he hoped to never be again. After sending it, he called three times until he finally heard someone pick up on the other line, hanging up himself with a short follow-up message stating his text was urgent but that he wasn’t in a place he could talk. And in most ways, Dr. Lacroix’s bed was not the right place to talk to Hugo Hellström, but this morning it was merely an excuse to keep him from the added effort of tone and inflection, something he didn’t have the energy for when a few texts later he was already drifting back off to sleep.

The sun woke him up the second time, a kinder way to start the morning, but with its warmth came the contrasting chill of the long since abandoned space beside him. The one he’d ignored several hours earlier, but now turned over to stare at in a long, silent contemplation. It was cute, Monty had said, that he was worried about him, a teasing tone he’d brushed off with stubborn pride. But there was nothing cute, Emil thought now, about the way he pulled the empty sheets to his chest, nothing particularly adorable about the way he curled around them and the lingering smell of the man he knew was miles away. At a place he’d begged Emil not to go back to, the same place they’d drawn up maps for so that he could go instead. And if it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable division of skills, he spent the rest of his time in bed trying to determine how they’d come to such an idiotic conclusion.

Eventually he got up, tied to some sense of obligation to make good on a series of promises from the night before. To clean up the mess he’d made of the man’s coffee table and maybe even find something useful in all the papers he’d strewn across it. It was difficult work to focus on at first, not helped much by the cup of coffee in his hands when it was its own distracting tangent of memories. It was how most of the hours passed, moving through the motions of productivity while constantly tripping over nostalgia. Washing the dishes and getting lost in the reflection of a pair of glasses, flipping through a notebook for scrap paper only to get caught up in the details of what was already written, and moving from counter to couch to eventually the floor, finding it the one place he could spread out his mess of papers without feeling the sharp absence in the seat beside him.

It was some time past lunch--a mix of leftovers he tried to consolidate in his fridge--that Emiliano felt like he’d finally made progress. His old pages of notes were all collected into two neat piles, one for the pages he’d fully stripped of all their useful information and one for those he needed to work over again. The notebook in front of him was now filled with that useful information, compiled by category, starred and annotated for priority, and with at least a few more dots connected. It wasn’t done by any means, and he was already sifting through the unfinished pages to pour over them again, but it was a start. Something more useful he hoped to show for the anxious afternoon than just the crumpled sheets left balled up in Montgomery’s bed.

[themilky-way]

in the night

gif credit: pedropcl

pairing: javier peña x fem! reader

summary: when you’re asked to partake in a dangerous task, you form a sudden and unexpected bond.

warnings: mentions of the mob and alcohol, a very vague implication of a gun

author’s note: this man lives in my mind rent free good-fuckin-night  

----------

life in columbia sure as hell wasn’t easy, but being a dea agent working against the downfall of the world’s most powerful criminal took the proverbial cake. your mission had seemed fairly easy: travel to bogotá and help the columbian authorities catch escobar. except, the ambassador didn’t mention any sort of infiltration, one that had to be done by none other than you. 

there was no fighting it. the job carried many (dangerous) responsibilities, and someone had to fulfill them. to help, steve had reached out to carillo and asked him to substitute one of his own men, which, in a way, wasn’t any better because someone’s life was still at risk, but it was denied. connie made the wait for you as easy as she could by sending you dinner with peña a few nights a week, and although you loved that woman like your own blood, she couldn’t make a bowl of rice even if her life depended on it. 

by being a helpful friend though, connie had unintentionally brought her husband’s partner closer with you. you knew of him and how he worked, an unavoidable aspect if you operated where he did, but your role slightly differed from his. the week you had been assigned for undercover was spent in the privacy of your apartment, ensuring important documents were locked up, sorting a couple of suitcases as if this was a leisurely trip instead of a guaranteed death sentence. the following week wasn’t any less hectic, but it was the first time connie sent out a personal order to you. her chosen delivery man? yeah, you guessed it.

it became a regular occurrence after that. the days leading up to your departure began consisting of javier residing in your home for hours at a time. there were moments where he showed up at your door without a small bag of food, claiming steve was in charge of dinner that night and how he’d never forgive himself if he let you take a bite of it. you noticed how on some nights, he’d linger for just a few more minutes than he should’ve by washing spare dishes or going over routes crucial to the cartels. he didn’t need to do any of that, but the difference here was that he wanted to. 

“so,” steve started off one morning, “you and peña- you guys a thing?” he ended it with a small smirk perfectly hidden by the bottom of his coffee mug. indeed, an unprofessional topic for an unprofessional man.

“to my knowledge, he’s just being a friend and a very bad delivery person,” had been your answer at the time, never once looking up from the jumble of words constituting your report. nothing else mattered as much as your security on that mission; you truly didn’t have the time to delve into emotional matters and invest any thought into silly questions like this. “he keeps me company, that’s all.”

perhaps you were lying to yourself about this whole thing, afraid of what might happen if you allowed emotion to regulate the demanding life you led. a vase of lively flowers would replace the holster on your coffee table. scattered papers and pens and pictures would find a home in neat sections of a drawer rather than the floor. a few photographs might even color the opaque walls. these were trivial aspects of your life, and the aspirations to contrive them hardly appeared in your mind, but now? well, now they were everywhere. 

during the third week, javier didn’t even need steve’s wife to deliver anything. excuses to knock on the hard wooden door of the complex were compiled up in his brain, and they were eloquently spilled in order to pass its threshold. “you see these papers? yeah, we need to go over them,” he’d say all rushed and hurried, holding up a stack of articles with sloppy handwriting. the thoughts-hopes-from before would start then, and they’d take up every ounce of your reasoning as if nothing else mattered. from that point forward, javier’s attention was yours, and your’s his. watches’ were discarded and left on a random end of a couch, the sounds of the clock drowned out by the now casual chatter instead of a business delegation. nights of the exact nature transcurred one after another, with the agent leaving closer to dawn no matter his imploration to keep you company. “call me if you need anything, alright?”

ultimately, everything had led you to the couch your legs were crossed upon, javier sitting in the space between it and the small, rectangular coffee table. one leg lay calmly folded on the pearl-tinted carpet while the other was bent, an elbow resting sturdily on top of his knee. a blanket covered the bottom half of your sitting form with a few of its edges tickling the man’s arms, but it seemed he didn’t mind the feeling. you’d offered him one, and upon his negation, you’d offered him to share yours, which earned you a cocky remark. tonight, he didn’t bring any documents or transcripts to revise, only what he insisted to be the best take-out meal in town. additionally, being the friend he was, he gifted you a bottle of whiskey that was to be celebrated with, except he was on his third refill, and you weren’t even finished with the first. 

“unless you wanna sleep here tonight, i suggest you slow it down,” a small joke as you leaned over to place the glass down. you assumed he’d laugh as he did with all your past banters, but was met with nothing but the sound of his ice rocking against his cup. naturally, you turned to face him as you reached back, catching a delicate smile below the curve of his stache.

“yeah, i’m sure you’d like that, huh?” he took a sip as coolly as ever. the glass came down next to yours, his newly free hand propping up on your knee closest to him. granted, the close intimacy wasn’t new-none of it was, at this point-but your very own mind was spinning and wasn’t due to the alcohol, or potential food poisoning, or even goddamn nerves wracking your system about the ordeal you’d be facing. “no, seriously. would you like me to stay?”

“i mean i wouldn’t technically mind it if i had company. i’d prefer connie but you’ll do, i guess,” to this, javi did release a hearty laugh, followed with a expression of feined insult. 

a few hours trascurred beyond that moment before exhaustion creeped up on the both of you. it was arranged that he’d sleep on the sofa while your bed awaited you in the adjacent dorm, and it appeared quite modest. “i’ll, uh, i’ll be right back, hold on,” you assured him, discarding your day clothes for something more comfortable in private. you brushed your teeth next, and then fixed your disheveled hair into a style suited for sleep. 

“oh shit, javi-” you found him sitting at the edge of your bed tucking in a sheet that almost threatened to come off. he’d taken the liberty of adjusting the variety of pillows and blankets how he deemed fit you best. “did you just un-make my own bed?”

he got up to lift one cover to motion you under it, replying with, “yes, ma’am, i sure did.” javier ensured that every single limb was secure under the safety of the sheet, standing up straight to peer down at his work and, regarding it “perfect,” said his good night, but cold fingers unsheathed themselves to encircle around his wrist to prevent him from leaving. “oh, come on, i did such a good job-”

“please stay with me. just for a little while,” you plead. it took him more than few seconds to properly register your words, but eventually he twisted his hand to take a hold of yours and bring it into his lap as he sat back down on the cushion. he didn’t mind-he never would. you spoke to him about random things, conspiracies and books and movies and in turn, he offered his own insight. amidst slurred words, the entanglement of your fingers to his occurred. javi’s thumb drew softly on the edge of your own; throughout the silence that suddenly filled the space, he cautiously lifted the top of your hand, as if to wait for a withdrawal, and when he saw none, he kissed it softly. 

“murphy asked if you and i were a thing,” he mumbled. 

“what’d you tell him?” you asked.

“that we are.” he kissed your hand again before letting it go, rising up to stand over you. with the same gentleness as he’d done to your skin, he inched down to press another to your forehead. “get some rest, i think you’ve seen enough of me for today.”

“i don’t really think that’s possible.”

[livthedragon]

Sorry I’m a bit late! Here’s my answer for both!

Millard has so much potential as a character, so it was pretty hard for me to pick just one thing to focus my HCs on. Instead, I’ve decided to compile a bunch of random ideas that I have about him!

 In the modern world, Millard never really got into social media. Not just because he can’t be seen in photos, he just never saw the appeal

The one social media he does enjoy is YouTube, but purely for scientific videos and go catch up on history after 1940

No one trusts him to pick out a movie for movie night without supervision because he’ll end up making everyone watch 3 hours of whale documentaries

Although Millard’s favorite music genre is classical, he also enjoys some more modern music, typically on the mellow side

Whenever he gets the chance, he likes to cook unique dishes that he’s never tried before from obscure places around the world. Unfortunately, he’s not exactly the best chef, so Horace ends up doing most of the work

He almost never cries when in pain, I mean, he seemed more annoyed than anything when he got shot by Golan

But the moment you put on a sad movie, he will sob

Sometimes he gets so wrapped up in a task, like decrypting Tales when he gets the chance, people have to remind him to take care of himself

One time he got stuck on a complicated story and didn’t eat for hours upon hours, much to the concerned anger of Bronwyn

Despite being a very neat person, he loses things so easily

It’s not because he’s messy or he forgets where things are, things that belong to him seem to just love to get lost

Anyway, that concludes my miscellaneous Head Canons on Millard! As for writing tips, the main tip I have (that isn’t the same copy-paste stuff you see for every other answer to this question) is don’t be afraid to change things. The first ideas you have for a story or even list of ideas don’t have to be the same ideas you end with! There are so many times I have one idea and write a chapter using it only to go back and change practically everything! It’s OK to re-write chapters and ideas if they don’t seem good at first, you don’t have to change everything because of something you wrote in the beginning! Never be afraid to add or take away as you see fit. Writing is about putting your ideas and worlds you make on paper for all to enjoy, but they don’t have to line up exactly if you want to change things! Just have fun with it!  Best Wishes, 

-Liv💫