#got the whole range of masculine expression here

[chynandri]

Maybe Leon’s design makes me mad because I’m just jealous of him. Maybe he’s gotta be put on the gender envy list

[humansbgone]

Just binged the whole series. It is all IMMACULATE and (among many other things about the series) your voice acting is fucking incredible!! Any tips for someone who wants to get better with doing different voices?

Aw, thank you so much!!! I really appreciate that. As for voice acting...

(Apologies in advance, I'm using my own terminology for how I think of voices here to describe as well as I can)

This will vary depending on your voice, but I find I have "speaking spaces"--high and low, front and back (feminine voices are usually more in front, masculine in back). So you've got front-high, front-low, back-high, back-low, and then up in your nose (for nasally voices). Work with kind of shifting into these five spaces, and you'll be amazed at the range you can attain! Then, just work on pitching up and down *within* those spaces, and you'll get an even greater variety.

For example, Rose, the ants, the default human, and Violet are all front-high--Rose is the lowest, default human higher, the ants are higher still, and Violet is highest. Sophodra and Commander Vera are front-low, with Vera being lower than Soph. Mundle (the fly), and Harvey (Rose's dad) are both back-high, and Gregorsa is back-low (and then I pitch him down in Audacity even more). Lieutenant Mobia is high, but kind of midway between front and back--I start front, then pull back. This avoids the vibration I usually get from starting in back. (An upcoming weevil and future mosquito will be nasal.)

And yeah, pay close attention to the vibration (that is, whether you can feel a voice really making your vocal cords reverberate)! It makes a very big difference in the way a voice sounds. Sophodra is high-low and has a lot of vibration (she's close to back); Vera is low-low and has very little vibration (closer to front). Rose, Mobia, the default human, and Violet are low vibration, the ants are medium vibration. All the back voices are high vibration.

The way your character thinks about the world also makes a huge difference. You can use what is physically the same voice and make two characters sound completely distinct. Like, what emotions a character expresses (do they seem fearful? snooty? caring?), or how fast or slow a character talks.

There's also accent. Even little regional things! Rose says "sure" quickly like "sher," but Sophodra says it more like a smooth, luxurious "shew-ore."

Finally, it's worth thinking about a character's vocabulary. Not just whether they use big or small words, but the kinds of phrases and wording that will pop to the front of a given character's head. Non-confrontational phrasing, maybe, or phrasing that gets a point across faster. What are your character's priorities when communicating? If you can tell your characters apart even when they're written down, you've got good characterization, and that will carry over to making the voices unique. (Of course, this only applies if you're also doing writing, or allowed to improvise.)

Sorry, I know that's a lot. I hope it helps!

[heademptie]

Cecil Finlay Vaughn

The Thot, Scott, Parent Friend (TM)

WARNINGS: Strong language, mildly suggestive language

   “Normally I’d be flattered by ye getting all hot an’ bothered by the accent, but cuid ye keep it in yer pants while I yell at ‘em for their fucken idiocy.”

   ***   ***

   Born April 7th in a town right by Loch Ness, Scotland, Cecil lived in a lighthouse with their great aunt during the winter and with their father on a farm the rest of the time. Cecil never fit into the stereotypical masculine role they were expected to as a young boy, and was pretty fluid with their gender expression, officially transitioning to nonbinary at the age of 29, however had been using neutral pronouns since they were 17. 

   ***   ***

   “Screw your stereotypes, I look fucken good in a skirt. Stop thinking about what’s in my fucken pants, ye perv.”

   *** ***

   At the age of 19, Cecil left Scotland to go travelling through Europe and expanded that area until they ended up in America at 22 and began studying there with a scholarship. Despite their carefree and adventurous attitude, they were dedicated to their studies but knew how to balance school and life. Cecil enrolled in cultural studies and excelled at the class. 

   ***   ***

   “What’s the point of there being a whole world out there if I only care about my section of it? What good is that gunna do?”

   ***   ***

   Cecil had many partners throughout their early adulthood, but were mainly one night stands with the occasional repetitive partner. Men, Women or otherwise, Cecil was open. Many tried confessing their affection for the Scottsthem, but were always turned down and Cecil would no longer engage sexually with them. When they were almost 26, Cecil labelled their romantic orientation as aromatic. Though they didn't announce it, it spread quickly and opinions of Cecil were mixed, some confused or annoyed, others accepting and eager knowing there would be no strings attached, and few remained indifferent.

   *** ***

   “I cannae love you the way you want me to, and I daenae feel like changing meto fit your fantasy. And if you loved me like you think you do, you wuidn’t ask me to.”

   *** ***

   After graduating, Cecil began travelling again and put their degree to use by visiting a range of cultures to learn from the source. Through their travels, Cecil made many friends across the world, some more powerful than others, and became well connected to a number of groups of people. Cecil eventually settled back in America at 33, specifically New York, and worked in a museum in the archives. 

   ***   ***

   “Let's fix the errors in here, shall we? Get rid of some of that nasty toxic patriotism.”

   ***   ***

   Cecil met a man named Jedidiah Fallon when they were in their late 30s, and began to hang out with him. Their friendship developed semi quickly and became quite strong, eventually becoming a romantic love on Jedidiah's side. When he confessed to Cecil, he was understanding of Cecil's feelings and knew that the same type of love would not be reciprocated, however felt that Cecil deserved to know of his feelings. Cecil decided to accept Jedidiah's confession. They later got married. Cecil loves Jedidiah and Jedidiah is in love with Cecil.

   ***   ***

   “I will love you for the rest of my life, you are my family, you are my soulmate. And maybe in our next lives, I'll be able to fall in love with you the way you have with me. But for now, in this life we live, I hope my affection is enough for you.”

   ***   ***

   Cecil is currently in their mid to late fifties and works part time at Jedidiah's gym to help with management and equipment care. They helped in raising Jedidiah's child but are not considered a parent to them, however is still family. Cecil, when not working at the gym, lectures at a local college for their major

Taglist: @nobirdsex

[nightengale82]

Healing Messy Mommy #10

To quote the lyrical genius Immortal Technique:

“If you go platinum, it’s got nothing to do with luck, it just means that a million people are stupid as fuck.”

There are approximately 334 Billion people in America today, in 2023.

How many people know what the actual definition of Feminism is? How many people are afraid to say that word? How many ignorant women have been unwilling to educate themselves on the topic for fear of being labeled a “man hater”? What does internalized misogyny look like, and how does it show up in our lives- as mothers? What is this new wave- this “modern day feminism” all you youngsters are all talking about?

Look I’ll be honest. I don’t know the answers.

I’ve been stuck in a happy little bubble: of love, nurturing and educating my children… and allowing myself the honor and joy of being loved and respected by a man, a REAL man: for their first time, ever, in my life.

Whatever y’all are going around calling “feminism” today… I want no part of. To be perfectly honest.

You can have your online dating, your only fans, your pronouns, your bare minimum “survival mode” mentality, your “independence”, your denial, your toxicity, your reality television, all that.

No thank you… I’m good!

I am awake.

Here’s the kicker: I have two daughters. I am not at liberty, not to care.

The reason that I care: is because of love.

God delivered a man to me that I don’t have to make excuses for. A man that I can trust. A man that has provided me a safe space, and absolutely refused to abandon me, when all of MY messy broken-ness got projected on to him, and I blamed him for it all of it: MY demons, MY trauma, MY lack of boundaries, MY inadequacy, MY inability to love, take accountability, and to forgive, trust, and let go…

When honestly, he was just doing his best. And guess what?

HE taught me how.

How to love: he taught me what it looks like: when you make a commitment to love a woman, and a family that you created, and SHOW UP everyday.

Embarrassingly enough, I didn’t know that,

that was a thing. 😅

I am so grateful that we found each other and that we have been able to choose each other… to have and to hold, in this lifetime, to share a family and build a life, and an empire, with each other.

By no stretch of the imagination do I believe that I have done anything remotely close to deserving this kind of love.

But you know who does? His daughters. My daughters. Our children.

And so I am very lucky, that I had enough sense to open myself up enough to love, just one last time and to take the chance.

Of course, now I see it wasn’t luck at all, but rather fate, and of course destiny.

Today, I create a new version of a word I am not willing to abandon: Ascended Feminism.

This is the kind of Feminism where I will respect what has been done, honor our accomplishments, but also examine what has gone horribly fucking wrong.

MEN AND WOMEN FUCKING NEED EACH OTHER.

We gain NOTHING by putting each other down.

Ascended Feminism demands that you honor the differences with in the masculine and the feminine, and do not deny any facet of either!

Ascended Feminism is doing the work to preserve, create and sustain healthy families, in order for society to evolve, and to raise the vibration of the collective, as a whole.

The American Family Unit is so rapidly deteriorating, so many of us are splintering into a million different pieces because we aren’t willing to talk about it, to get uncomfortable, to get to the bottom of this shit.

We have to do something about this!

We need each other! Boys need strong dads that can express the full range of their emotions, self discipline and self mastery without running away. Girls need mothers that can model healthy boundaries, value themselves beyond their appearances, and who feel safe enough to be in, and express their feminine nature.

That is my story, and I’m sticking with it.

More will be revealed.

#HealingMessyMommy #AscendedFeminism #AwakenedMasculine #DivineCounterpart #AwakenedFeminine #DivineMasculine #DivineFeminine

[willkimurashat]

Exactly 0 people asked, but here I am anyway with a rating of Love Island The Game: Ex in the Villa lol!

As you’ve probably noticed, I played each volume as it came out, did not read the spoilers. I always loved litg for giving me escapism from reality I so much craved because it was a fun, problem-free game, where I was the center of attention in a good way, and pixels loved me unconditionally. That is until s5 rolled up. I was really excited about it, even though still not over s4 because they released it so close to each other, but nonetheless wanted to give it a fair go. I was very open to the story and the characters, but about half way through, I just could not defend them anymore. It wasn’t a good time anymore, it was a “how will fusebox piss me off today” time. Anyways, maybe this whole collective trauma of s5 is still very fresh in my mind, and I won’t think it’s so bad as time goes on, but here’s my thoughts on it now.

Disclaimer: All of these are obviously just my subjective, humble opinion - feel free to agree or disagree or add your own:) and if you’d like to use these categories for your own ratings - please, by all means!

Also, potential spoilers ahead:)

So. Let’s break it down into some categories…

Character design: 7/10

This is just my personal taste I guess, but they really went off with Suresh and Gabi. Meera and Johnny made me swoon too. The rest look aight, but I think slight tweaks like aligning Finn’s jaw or Kat’s eyes or making her hair less high up, stuff like that - it would really help. Also, never forget the atrocious outfits (I mean, rubber duckies? Really? The stupid hat? The abominable sandals?? Ugh…)

Character personality: 7/10

I’m probably being too generous, but I do feel like everyone had a distinct personality and a “role” in the villa. Now, where they annoying most of the time? Yes. Were they mean to MC? Also yes, but that’s a completely different point. Did we really get to know anyone or was it mostly just conversations about how Suresh would feel if MC went for someone else and vice versa? I’ll let you answer that one… Disclaimer: MC not included here, she’s an outlier and would skew the score too much.

Character diversity: 4/10

We got some range of characters, but where they done well? Starting with not specifying ethnicities of every single mixed race islander on their applications, perpetuating stereotypes about characters of color and abuse, making them toxic, continuing to make woc villains of the story… LGBT characters being all over the place and, again, villains/unlikeable… Yeah, do better fusebox.

MC design: 6.5/10

My first impression when I saw mc was… not the greatest. My second impression when I played the game - better, but not great. I think my main issue is some expressions, which are just not.. it… I appreciate that they made a curvier body type option, but the face just looks a bit off anyway? Like, don’t get me wrong, there’s definitely potential and so many people were able to make them look hot, but my mc? Idk, can’t help but think that something’s off with her every time I look at her:/ (I figured out who my mc reminds me of btw!)

MC personality: 1/10

It really is a 0, but again, I’m being generous. 16 volumes, 42 episodes and we know absolutely nothing about them. What do they like? Who’s their type? What’s their passion in life? What makes them, well, them? Who is mc? A hologram. A cardboard cut out that only has three preprogrammed comments: yes/no/i don’t know.

MC customization: 5/10

I think overall, the customization was alright and I was pretty much able to make mc look like me, but that being said, I’m a white girl, so I’m privileged enough to not have to run into problems like having ethnic hair gem blocked… And again, I like the curvy body type option, (though it’s still kinda limited), but we still can’t have a choice of feminine/masculine presenting bodies, which I don’t think is too much to ask for (they do it on Lovelink for example). And the outfits… granny fashion and shattered glass bikini? Please just.. let’s just move on.

Challenges: 5/10

The idea for challenges was quite good. Who doesn’t love an obstacle challenge, a snog, marry, pie, a heart racing challenge, or kiss the islander with ___ secret? I know I do! No, we didn’t get the baby challenge or the mean tweets, but it was still a good selection of challenges. However, they were written so… dryly? (Is that a word? It feels like it’s not, but it is now lol.) Anyway, just like the rest of the season, it’s three lines of dry textbook text that just didn’t excite me in the slightest. I read textbooks for grad school every day, I want creative writing in a romance game pretty please! I didn’t feel like I was actually there, doing the challenge. I didn’t care if I won the challenge either because there were no prizes for them anyway and no one-on-one time with our li’s, so… Good idea, poor execution:/

Drama: 3/10

E X C E S S I V E and U N C A L L E D F O R. Of course, it made sense that in a season about Exes in the Villa the main drama will be about Exes in the Villa. I get it, trust me. But you would hope that the drama will get resolved, which in my opinion, it wasn’t. Or it didn’t feel like a satisfying resolution to me personally. It kept going in circles, “hear me out!” “I’m done apologizing!” “Maybe we are different people” “I’m gonna win you back” “How do you think Suresh would feel if…?” “How do you feel now that Suresh is with…?” And the ending was that he wanted to propose to you too, but because of miscommunication it didn’t happen, making this whole drama actually pointless. And that’s only Suresh drama, which if you’re not on his route is tiring, repetitive, and… boring?

Moving on, I wrote a lot of rants about Alfie drama, so I won’t go into it, you all know how I feel. Arlo was feisty with mc for no reason, especially if you constantly reject Suresh’s advances. Drastically changing Meera’s character to an insufferable bitch was unnecessary. Same with Johnny/Nicolas - there was no indication that they are terrible people during casa amor, and the evil master plans came out of nowhere, and only served to further hurt mc. Eddie as a villain was enough for me tbh, we didn’t need the whole villa ganging up on mc. Plus, we shouldn’t be the only ones with drama, I would like to have some fun time at least, thank you very much. Overall, I’m not saying this should be Friend Island - I’ve seen the show, I know how it goes and I know some drama can be absolutely ridiculous, but I just think it wasn’t balanced out at all. It wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t proportional. (Maybe I’m alone in thinking this, but I think s4 had a good balance of drama/friendships/romance, so it was still there, but it wasn’t overbearing.)

Relationships: 3.5/10

The only points here are for Lulu, honestly. And Gabi, but I might be biased lol. Okay, maybe also Alfie-Finn bromance, I’m a sucker for those. Friendship-wise, the whole season I felt alone and felt like I couldn’t trust anyone. Kat was going back and forth between being my friend and being my rival. Arlo had issues with me… why exactly? I’m honestly not sure… Dana was… just there? Her friendship entailed pulling me for a chat any time I wanted to have a conversation with my li and gossiping or asking for reassurance. Meera was nothing, but an insecure bitch to me. Eddie wanted nothing to do with me, until the very end we’re apparently all buddy-buddy and he’s spilling secrets to me. Don’t forget the blackmailing too. Finn was nice only in one (1) occasion, and that is during Snog, Marry, Pie. Alfie may have been a good friend, but I didn’t do that route with him. Lulu was the only one consistently kind and on mc’s side. Gabi was an interesting addition, it’s a shame we didn’t get to know her at all basically.

Romance-wise, again, felt like I couldn’t trust anyone. It was the first season where I just wasn’t interested in anyone romantically because I didn’t get to know anyone really, and most were horrible to me. When the first character designs dropped, I liked Suresh, then was let down. I liked Alfie, then was let down. I liked Johnny, then was let down. I liked Finn, then was let down. I liked Lulu, but the choice to pick Gabi was just too tempting, and guess what? Lulu didn’t let me down, even as just a friend. (I’m glad I picked Gabi in the end, but I still know nothing about her…) Nobody really wanted mc and mc couldn’t really have anyone either. I think there was a lot of wasted potential with li’s. Like, hear me out: Suresh - enemies to lovers, Alfie/Dana - loyal routes, Finn - slow burn, Kat - friends to lovers, Johnny/Nicolas - partners in crime, Lulu - last-minute-sweep-me-off-my-feet, Gabi - messy, peak drama choice (I mean, come on, two girls wronged by the same ex get together? It’s my favorite part of this whole season - literally why I picked her, and she’s actually a sweetheart:))

Recouplings: 2/10

I remember in s4, I felt like there were too many recouplings, so in s5 they went ahead and gave us the least recouplings possible. Only once (1) can you actually pick someone you want to be with throughout the whole time in the villa, throughout all 42 episodes, all 16 volumes - right at the very end (!!!), unless you also willingly chose to twist switch to someone after casa amor. My main issue is that the whole season can be considered pointless because you can basically never couple up with who you want, casa boys wrong you and leave you anyway, bringing us back to square one with 3 og guys that you might’ve tried to escape the whole time. Or, if you’re on a Suresh route, the whole pining angst, or even, the whole idea of going to love island was useless and pointless because even though neither of them really grow or change as people (sorry my Suresh lovelies, it’s just how i see it), they finally talk it out and make up anyway, so none of these 42 episodes really mattered. Yeah, it angers me.

Finale: 4/10

As contradicting as it may sound, I do believe the team took feedback regarding s4 finale into consideration. We got final dates, prom prep, prom, declarations of love, winner announcements, love vs. money, and even a special vip guest - all components needed for a successful finale, the climactic resolution of the season, right? Wrong. I can live with the sacrifice of afterparty (not that I would want to see anyone from this season ever again anyway), but it seems natural progression of the finale was also sacrificed for the sake of jam-packing everything into the last volume. The events felt like they were happening with a speed of light: recoupling-hideaway (ugh)-date-picking a dress-prom-declaration-winners-money/love. I may be sleep deprived, but this made me even more dizzy. And not even that, but the progression of the relationship felt anything, but natural - it was more of a fever dream, really. I like you, Gabi, I do, and you’re sweet and give me full attention, but other than the fact that you like tattooing and fear squirrels, I know absolutely nothing about you (besides the obvious, of course). So all the plastic rings flying around, “being exclusive” and ahem, a PROPOSAL felt, uh… rushed. This is not Vegas, we are not eloping, and I basically don’t know you, so why, oh why would that even be an option?

Moving on, the resolution of the season overall was quite lackluster. Finn never confronted Kat, continuing on with a perfect illusion of romance for her. Well done, Finn. Suresh leaves (if you’re not with him), and decides to let loose and go to Barbados, clearly indicating that he will resort back to his old ways. Nice. Alfie claims to have become a changed man, even appears regretful about things, but who’s to say if he really did change? A half-assed “we’re friends��� speech from Kat really did nothing to me neither physically nor emotionally. Sooo… 16 volumes, 42 episodes later nobody learned anything, nobody admitted they were wrong, nobody really genuinely apologized, and nobody grew as a person. Yet again - the whole season was pointless. Add in the driest, most uninteresting writing and it was enough to leave me disappointed still.

We will not talk about Bobby. I refuse to talk about Bobby. That was not Bobby, he was not canon, it did not happen, and I will not accept any criticism.

Structure: 3/10

The only points here are for casa amor, and even that wasn’t done well (i have a post about it here somewhere). Starting with only 3 couples? Only what, like, 3 recouplings ever? Not a single beach hut moment? Not a single hideaway moment??? (No no, they cannot get away with a lackluster last minute “whatever, you can have your stupid hideaway” scene in the very end of the season) We’ve only been there for what feels like a week?? Are you kidding me? It seems we keep straying further and further away from the format of the actual show it’s meant to be based on and I don’t really like that tbh.

Storyline: 5/10

Tell you what, I was actually really intrigued when they first announced the theme of the season as “Ex in the Villa”. I remember people theorizing how they’re gonna handle it, who they’re bringing in, etc. But, a few episodes in I realized just how limiting it was to constrain the whole plotline to… just Suresh. All the conversations and all the drama got very-very redundant very-very quickly. The only redeeming quality was being able to pick Gabi. Check and mate. Oh, and Lulu. Lulu is my queen:) Here’s alternative ways they could’ve improved it: let players choose who their ex is from given characters; let our ex despise mc and mc despises them back in the beginning (enemies to lovers/enemies to besties); let all islanders be exes of other islanders (it won’t be love island the show anymore, but they weren’t really sticking to the format anyway, so); let mc have multiple exes in the villa (and then those two (or three?) exes fight for them); let players choose the reason why they’re exes.

Writing: 2/10

I’m kinda conflicted because I feel like it did get better, but it also got worse? Like, I appreciate using more of love island jargon and the conversations felt pretty natural, like real people would speak, you know? (But still, I can’t really speak to that, since I don’t live in the UK, my only exposure to different accents is through tv and videos.) But at the same time all conversations (75% of which are about Suresh and MC lol) felt so repetitive and so boring and it dragged on and on and on… and then you look back at the episode and realize that nothing’s happened and you didn’t learn anything about anyone. Character development was minimal, if there at all. Very little character depth, very limited background information. I’m not even going to mention mc… Spicy scenes were basically nonexistent and a massive downgrade from s4 (don’t even talk to me). And even in general, every scene was written so dry, so robotic, and so anticlimactic that it was just constant disappointment. The constant bullying from girls to wear expensive outfits was super annoying and unnecessary as well.

Update: I initially had a higher rating for writing, but after playing the finale, I had to cut it in half for the mere reason that I have reached my limit. The utter disrespect I felt when my eyeballs glanced over the screen and read “NSFW kiss” during a prom scene with Gabi was beyond something I could accept with understanding. Perhaps in some circumstances it could be an acceptable form of writing and communicating, but personally I considered the phrasing as a placeholder, instead of a legitimate description of such kiss. I believe if the company had at least the slightest respect for their players, they would and should do the bare minimum of proofreading the text before releasing it for satisfactory gaming experience. Unfortunately, I had to remove points for personal vindication and emotional damage, which is reflective of how I have been treated as a player.

Replayability: 2/10

Hmmm idk. Idk if I’ll ever replay this one. I never got too attached to characters or the storyline, maybe because they released it so soon after s4 and I wasn’t over that yet. And when I did feel a teeny tiny spark with a character, they went on and did something stupid/annoying/hurtful, so even if I did want to go back and do their routes, I feel like they hurt me and I don’t like them much anymore. The only way I mightttt replay it at some point is to just be a bitch to everyone from the beginning because they all deserve that, honestly…

Overall score: 4/10

Well, and that about wraps it up. I never had this many… negative emotions about a season - me, the person who always tells people to not compare seasons, give it a fair go, and not take it close to heart because it’s a game. I usually love burying my face in a pillow, giggling at my screen, and kicking my feet as pixels swoon over me, professing their undying love, but I was robbed of that this season, unfortunately. I’m definitely gonna miss the memes and the rants here every Wednesday, and being the sentimental ass that I am, I will actually feel kinda sad that it’s over. At the same time, this was the first season that I spent here, as an official member of the litg fandom lol, and I’m thankful to have made friends here, bonding over this season:) Thank you for reading my rants, agreeing with me, and offering your own insights and perspectives! I hope I was able to make you laugh a little bit too:) This season prompted me to write two fics (and maybe more to come) that I’m quite proud of, and it made me want to replay other seasons, so I guess there is some good that came out of it, right? ;) and since we didn’t get a traditional ending this season, in true litg fashion I’ll say it…

…Stay hydrated, islanders xoxo

[discocactusblogs]

Heather- Jason Todd Pt.2 Finale

Pt.1

Weddings, they were supposed to be a joyous occasion for everyone involved. From the bride to the flower girl, everyone was happy. Or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to be, right?

I watched as my sister got ready for her wedding. She was decked in white from head to toe, a spectacular sight, but oh, how I wish I was her right now. I should be happy for her, but instead, I feel jealous. But not because of whom she’s marrying, but because I always thought Jason and I would end up married one day.

As I watched my sister twirl in her gown and smile brightly, a part of me died. “That was supposed to be me.” I thought to myself, tears pricking the corner of my eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” My mother smiled warmly and turned to me.

“As always.” I smiled in response, pushing back my own feelings. I should be happy for my sister.

“Are you alright?” My sister asked, noticing my red eyes.

I spent the whole previous night crying, I know. I’m petty, but I can’t help but feel heartbroken still. 

“I’m just feeling sick today. I think I’ll stay home. Don’t worry about me, have fun! Enjoy your wedding.” I assure her with a weak smile.

“But I want you to be there!” She replied in disappointment.

“I’m sorry. I’m sick, I don’t feel well enough to go, and I don’t want to get anyone sick.” I spoke firmly. I didn’t want to go and end up embarrassing myself halfway through the ceremony.

My mother rubbed my shoulders, knowing I was still devastated about Jason. She knew it was going to be rough.

“It’s alright. I’ll bring you back some cake. Please don’t do anything reckless.” My mother kissed the top of my head.

I smiled softly, thankful for her being so understanding. “I won’t mom.” 

I hugged my sister and mother and went up to my room, locking the door.

I grabbed the leather jacket that was hanging behind the door and clutched it tightly in my hands. I sat against the door, holding the jacket close and inhaling the ever-fading scent of Jason’s cologne. 

I waited to hear the door downstairs close before breaking down and sobbing into the jacket, my body shaking violently as I poured my heart out. 

After a while, I changed my shirt, which had been drenched in my tears. At this point, I was dry crying, my eyes failing to produce any more tears. My _____ eyes couldn’t produce enough tears to keep up with the pain I was feeling inside my chest. I went into the bathroom and washed my face before heading downstairs to get some water.

I trudged into the kitchen and grabbed a few water bottles from the refrigerator, this was going to be a long night. Since I was in the kitchen, I grabbed some snacks and went back to my room. 

The plan was to watch a movie to keep my mind off of things, but it was proving to be quite difficult since the only movies on TV were romance or romcoms.

I eventually gave up on that idea and sat on my floor to read a book, I must have fallen asleep.

When I awoke, a shadowy figure was standing by my closet, and I was laying on my bed with my book beside me, placed neatly on my nightstand. I thought it odd, but assumed that I got up and got in bed at some point before blacking out.

I stared at the figure, thinking it was just Jason’s jacket that I hung up, but when I rolled over, Jason’s jacket was beside me.

My senses kicked in, and I began to panic before chalking it up to my own imagination as I went back to sleep.

Shortly after I fell asleep, I groggily woke up to the feeling of leather against my face, thinking it was the jacket. I was about to move until I heard something. No, not something, someone.

“It’s okay, ____. I’m here. I’m sorry that I couldn’t come back sooner.” A masculine voice whispered.

I recognized it but at the same time, it sounded so foreign to me. I didn’t respond, my pulse quickening. After all, this was Gotham City, which had its own share of freaks.

I stirred, trying to face whoever this was, much to my surprise, he was wearing a red mask. I could hear him and see him remove the helmet in the dim moonlight that peered in from my window, which was now opened.

I then began panicking internally.

“I know you’re awake.” He chuckled, ruffling his hair.

That laugh.

My eyes watered, this must be a nightmare. Right?

I sat up in silence.

“I know you better than you think. Mind if I sit down?” He gestured to a spot on my bed.

Caught up in the delusion of this being a dream, I shook my head, encouraging him to sit.

I moved my legs so that he could sit down, the realness kicking in when the bed moved due to the weight of him sitting down.

“Did you miss me?” He smirked, the moonlight hitting his face just right. He was wearing a domino mask, but unlike all the other times I dreamt of him, this was different. He was older. His voice was different. His body was different as well, he was more toned and muscular with broad shoulders.

I stared at him, nodding slowly.

“J-Jay?” My voice cracked.

His expression changed in an instant. He seemed lost and broken, scared even. No, that wasn’t fear. It was worry.

“Yeah. I’m back.” he replied.

I immediately got up and hugged him tightly, sobbing into his neck. I knew this was a dream and clung to him as tightly as I possibly could, fully aware of my devastation once I awoke again.

“Don’t leave.” I pleaded. My dreams were always like this. I would dream of Jason and every time, he would say he had to go. I would beg him not to, and he would walk out with a wave of his hand while I died inside.

“I won’t. Not this time.” He whispered in a soft tone, almost as if he was afraid to speak.  He would never admit it, but his heart broke seeing you like this.

He let you sob into his neck, holding you gently, like a porcelain doll he was afraid to break.

You cried your eyes out, sniffling and clinging onto him still like a koala.

He held you and laid you back on the bed once you started nodding off.

“Please, don’t leave me, Jason.” I pleaded in a broken tone.

He covered you with your blanket and pulled the chair from your desk closer to your bed. “I won’t, doll. I’ll stay right here for tonight.” He sat on the chair, holding onto your hand firmly.

“Promise?” I sniffled.

“I promise.” He replied, the corner of his mouth turned up in a barely visible smile, but you knew it was there.

“Jason?”

“Yeah, gorgeous?”

“I love you.”

“A terrible decision for you to make, but I love you too.” He chuckled.

I smiled and fell asleep.

I awoke the next morning, sitting in bed and tears falling from the dream I had. That was, until I noticed my desk chair was right where Jason sat. I put the chair back, thinking the whole thing was just a dream. That was, until I saw a single rose and a note on my desk.

“I’ll be back tonight. Pick a movie and I’ll bring the snacks. You still like (snack name), right? I’ll explain everything when I get there. In the meantime, hang in there. Love ya. 

                                                                                  -Jason”

I was utterly confused until my phone rang. I picked it up from the floor and read the contact's name, it was Bruce.

I answered immediately. “Hello?” 

“____, it’s Bruce. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s Jason, he’s back.” Bruce spoke in a worried tone.

“What??” I was confused.

“You’ve heard of the Red Hood lately, right? It’s him. Let me know if you’ve seen him. He’s incredibly dangerous.” 

“I will.” I spoke softly. 

It wasn’t a dream.

(Masterlist)

[ebp-brain]

the wolfstar fandom and the problem of gender policing

To begin with: some gay men are femme, and that’s okay. Some are not, and that’s also okay. When someone is telling you that only a certain gender presentation is allowed from a fictional character, that’s not activism or advocacy; that’s gender policing. Even if you’re a woman or nonbinary person writing about cis gay men, it’s still gender policing—you are allowed to explore the full range of gender and sexuality in your own life and art. It’s easy to be taken in by statements on Tumblr about How To Write Good Queer Representation, because we want to be good people, and we understand that the language we use and the stories we tell are important. But our desire to be good people can be manipulated until we don’t recognize that we are participating in harmful behavior, or that we are being impacted by bullying.

If you’re in the Wolfstar fandom and you’re feeling alienated, lonely, confused, hurt, or angry because of things you’ve been hearing about what Sirius’ gender presentation “should” look like: you are not alone. There has been a longstanding problem in this fandom (for at least two years as of early 2021) with some vocal, active, popular fan writers telling other people how they should depict Sirius’ and Remus’—especially Sirius’—relationship to gender and sexuality. Generally, they suggest that depicting gay men as femme or feminine is homophobic. In particular, they say that writing/drawing Sirius as femme, feminine, flamboyant, short, “whiny,” or a sub or bottom is Bad. The logic is that because there’s a stereotype about gay men being feminine, all depictions of feminine gay men are homophobic. Because these voices are so loud and have such intense, aggressive support, it is easy to feel that you are Bad if you disagree with them, or to think that you’re alone in your disagreement. You’re not.

It’s important to recognize that this group of people is engaging in bullying. Not “wank,” not “discourse,” not “drama”—bullying. When you see them targeting other people’s work, it may seem like a petty personal dispute, or on the other hand like a legitimate conversation about gender and sexuality; it is neither. These folks are friendly, welcoming, and supportive right up until the moment someone disagrees with them—and then they attack that person and demand an apology. Because they use the language of social justice, and because they’re only antagonistic to people who question them openly, it’s easy to think they’re courageously protecting vulnerable people and standing up for what’s Right. But they aren’t. They are using their own identities and feelings to dictate how everyone else should behave while disregarding other people’s identities and feelings.

They claim that Sirius shouldn’t be written as “stereotypically gay” (i.e. feminine) because it hurts gay men; they claim that they are fighting homophobia. What they are really doing is gender policing. Awhile back, they started off by saying “Sirius shouldn’t always be feminine or always bottom in all fic.” Sure, true enough. But then it became “Sirius should never be feminine and never bottom.” And then it became “Sirius should never be short and whiny” (because those are apparently feminine traits). And now it seems to be “no one should ever depict cis gay men as feminine.” Allegedly because that’s “stereotyping,” but in practice this idea shames femme gay men, nonbinary femme folks, and any trans men who can’t or don’t want to present as masculine. It is gender policing disguised with social justice language.

Here are some red flags to look out for in the Wolfstar fandom—phrases that signal that you might be reading something that’s participating in gender policing, even if it doesn’t seem like it on the surface. They include:

“short, whiny Sirius”;

“let Sirius top”

“stereotypical gay man” (in the context of men being written as femme, not in the context of like…shitty mass media representation from the 90s)

“let men be men”

“women writing m/m” used in a derogatory way

and a couple that seem totally innocuous, even good, but mean something different in this context, like:

“being gay shouldn’t be your whole personality”

“topping or bottoming shouldn’t be your whole personality”

I’ve heard quite a few people talk about their feelings of isolation, confusion, self-doubt, frustration, and shame as a result of the bullying that’s been happening over the past few years in this fandom. Lots of people have left Wolfstar or Tumblr because of it. The good news is that a lot of Wolfstar folks are still out there: much of the fandom is flourishing on Discord, on Ao3, and in private messages. You can find your people! They’re the ones who actually listen respectfully to what you say, don’t shame you for mistakes or disagreements, and practice kindness and care.

And please look out for yourself. Try to recognize when your feelings of shame or guilt are a result of coming into contact with bullying and manipulation. Try not to accidentally spread transphobic and effeminophobic (anti-feminine) ideas and language; really think through what a post is saying before liking or reblogging it. And if you’re feeling hurt by what’s been said about gender expression within this fandom, know that you have lots of support and solidarity. We’re still around—we’re still around, and we love all your gender-related headcanons: we love a burly bearded biker Sirius; we love a five-feet-in-socks Sirius with a tendency towards dramatic temper tantrums; we love Sirius in lipstick and Sirius in crop tops and Sirius in ripped jeans. We love power bottom Sirius and ace Sirius and dom Sirius in high heels and Sirius who doesn’t care about how he has sex as long as it’s with Remus. We love Sirius who thinks being a trans man is the most important part of who he is and Sirius who thinks being a trans man is simply a basic fact of life. We love your fics and art and posts that explore your own weird complicated messy queer relationship to gender and sexuality. Of course we do. <3

(Also: I’ve got Big Anxiety and may or may not respond to comments on this post. I definitely will not respond to comments purposely misrepresenting my argument. I feel no particular need to defend myself; everyone can decide for themselves whether they think what I say is valid, and if I’m silent in response to criticism it’s not because I can’t think of a solid response—it’s because I don’t think responding is going to help myself or anyone else have a better experience on Tumblr and in this fandom. I’ll try to answer genuine, in-good-faith questions if I have the wherewithal to do so, and if you want to just message me and chat or say hi or share headcanons, I’d love that!)

[vagabondreamer]

After the Fall (3)

Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC

Word Count: 2k

Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.

Chapter Summary: MC wanders the house, and almost finds a secret. Instead, she finds herself in a very embarrassing situation.

Author’s Note: I will be starting a tag list for anyone who is interested!

***

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Turning around, you looked at him - a prominent frown was plastered on his face.

“You transformed with me.”

“You made me mad.” You emphasized that it was his fault. “I don’t know Lucifer! I just - I was terrified, and you were right - I’m naive and my body betrayed me; is that what you want to hear?”

“No, I don’t want to hear that.” You didn’t think it was possible for his frown to deepen but it did.

“I just want to forget this ever happened, okay?” He nodded and allowed you to leave without any further questions.

The thought of having to explain to everyone what happened made your body quiver. It was only your second day, and you had already been attacked; you felt like a walking target. Dropping your bag off in your room, you dug through it to find your DDD. You had five missed calls - three from Lucifer and two from Mammon - and about twenty unread messages. It ranged from Mammon asking ‘where are ya?’ to Mammon freaking out and saying ‘Lucifer’s gonna hang me if you don’t come home’. Lucifer’s messages also varied, from ‘you better get home right now’ to ‘are you okay?’. He must’ve went back to RAD to look for you - you 're so lucky he did.

Grabbing a small blanket, you wrapped it around your shoulders and let it drape off your body. You decided it would be better to face the brothers now, rather than wait it out. Walking towards the kitchen you could smell something delicious being made, and could faintly hear music being played in the background. Barely popping your head in, you see Satan.

“Is dinner almost done?” You asked softly.

“Yeah, just two more minutes. Do you mind setting the table?” He asked without looking up.

“Okay.” You grabbed plates and silverware, placing it on the dining table. After you were finished, you looked at the eight chairs - one at the head of the table, one at the foot, and three on each side. Obviously, Lucifer would be seated at the head, but where did the others usually sit? You didn’t want to take anyone’s seat, but you also didn’t want to be trapped in-between anyone. Choosing the foot of the table, you sat down, wrapping the blanket tighter and waited for everyone to join you.

Lucifer was the first to arrive - no surprise there, he was always punctual. Then, the rest filtered in. Satan brought out the food on various dishes, placing it in the middle for everyone to partake in. He sat down adjacent to your left, Asmo was to his left, and then Levi. To your right was an empty chair, and then Beel, to his right was Mammon. Thankfully, it seemed everyone was too focused on food to notice the condition you’re in. You served some food onto your plate, and listened to the various conversations the boys were having.

“Everyone has to enter the event! They’re giving away a limited edition Ruri-chan figure and I need to win it!” Levi exclaimed.

“Limited edition? That must mean it’s worth a lot. Yeah, I’ll enter ya silly competition.”

“No, Mammon, if you win it you have to give it to me!”

“What are ya gonna give to me in exchange?”

You tuned out the rest of the conversation. You weren’t sure what a Ruri-chan was, but decided not to ask about it; Levi seemed passionate about it, and you didn’t want to sit here all night.

“So, MC, how was detention?” Satan turned to you to tease you, knowing good and well that he had ditched you, but his expression dropped when he saw the claw marks on your face.

“Detention?” Mammon questioned. Great. All eyes were on you - all eyes were on your injury.

“MC! Your face!” Asmo got up to get a closer look, but you raised your hand, hoping to stop him.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“What the hell happened?” Satan inquired.

“Enough. She doesn’t have to answer any questions.” Lucifer’s voice was firm.

“It’s okay. After detention, I was attacked, that’s really all that happened.” Your eyes watered up, but you just tightened the blanket over you. “And Lucifer saved me, so I’m okay.”

“Oh MC!” Amso cried out. “Can I hug you?” You nodded and accepted his embrace. “You poor thing.”

Asmo coddled you in your seat, it felt nice to be cared for.

The look on Mammon’s and Beel’s faces were heartbreaking, but they didn’t push the subject further.

“Satan, how did you know she had detention?” You could see Satan scratch the back of his neck, knowing Lucifer was going to rip him a new one.

“I also got detention with her...and Solomon. But I lied and said I had a meeting with you, and the professor let me go. I’m assuming Solomon made up an excuse too.” His face was filled with guilt.

“You and Mammon are going to receive a punishment after dinner.”

“Wait, I didn’t do anything!” Mammon declared.

“Exactly. I told you to make sure she didn’t get hurt, and you failed.”

You untangled yourself from Asmo’s grasp and sat up.

“No, it’s not their fault. They shouldn’t be blamed for my mistakes.” Lucifer’s intense gaze fell on you, softening slightly.

“MC, it’s not your fault.”

“I was the one who was talking in class, and I’m the one who told Mammon I could take care of myself.” Standing up, you placed your hands flat against the table. “I made a foolish mistake. It won’t happen again.”

You went to your room for the rest of the night.

***

A whole school week had passed. Lucifer still punished Satan and Mammon despite you asking him not to, this meant Mammon was practically glued to your hip from now on. You had been questioned by Solomon and the angels about what happened to your face, and gave them the short story. Simeon had been a big help making you feel safe; he suggested texting each other everyday to check in on each other. And Luke, well, he complained that you shouldn’t be in a house full of demons.

It was Saturday, this meant that most of the boys were out of the house - aside from Lucifer and Levi. You were tired of being in your room all the time, and silently wished you had asked Asmo to take you shopping like he promised. Wandering around the house aimlessly, you decided to go mess with Levi. You didn’t know him too well, except he was obsessed with Ruri-chan and always called himself a yucky otaku; he was kind of weird, you hadn’t ever met someone like him in the Celestial Realm, but he peaked your interest enough. Knocking on his door, you call out his name. No answer. You try again. Same result. You try to turn the door knob but it’s locked.

“You have to say the secret password!” He yelled.

“I don’t know the secret password!”

“Then you can’t get in!” You’re dumbfounded by his logic; he must really not want to hang out with you. Leaving him alone, you go on a quest to rid your boredom. Messing with Lucifer would only result in him lecturing you, so you explored the house instead.

It was easy to get lost. You did it several times. Every door just led to a hallway of more doors, and some even opened into walls. You almost fell out of the second story because one door opened to the outside! There were several staircases that led to nowhere, and you were starting to wonder who created this poorly designed house. You were about to give up and go back to your room when you heard a soft voice - it was singing a lullaby. The song was faint, but you tried to follow it. You started walking up a spiral staircase, the sound was getting stronger.

“MC.” The voice startled you causing you to miss your next step. You would’ve fell down the stairs had it not been for his strong arms catching you.

“Lucifer?”

“What are you doing here?” He set you down on stable ground.

“I was just exploring. I’m bored.”

“Don’t go up these stairs.”

“Why not?” He combed his hair with his gloved hand - you were stressing him out.

“Because I said so.” Placing his hand on your lower back, he led you out back into the main hall.

“That’s not a fair reason.”

“Fine, you can help me with paperwork.”

“Wait - what?”

“You said you were bored? I’ve got plenty for you to do.”

“Well, I’m not that bored -” you tried to protest.

“Come, now.” You sighed in defeat and followed him to his office. You make a mental note to never tell Lucifer you’re bored. He pulls a seat to his desk, perpendicular to his chair. You climb onto the chair, sitting on your legs so that you’re close enough to the desk. There’s a huge stack of papers on his desk, you groan not wanting to do any work.

“Are you always this lazy?”

“No offense, but why would I try to make an effort down here?” You cross your arms. “I don’t overwork myself, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very angel-like.” You rolled your eyes, he’s one to talk.

“All you have to do is separate the papers into urgent and not urgent. That way I can get to the urgent ones first and then do the rest.” He plopped the stack in front of you.

“How am I supposed to know what’s urgent or not?”

“Trust your instinct to make the right decision.”

“My instinct?”

“It has to be somewhere in there,” he pointed to your head, you swatted his hand away. You could’ve swore there was a ghost of a smile on his face. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you started to separate the papers, trusting your instinct.

It felt like hours had passed by the time you completely separated all of the papers. Lucifer was concentrating on the paperwork he was doing, it gave you enough time to finally look at his face up close without his burning stare.

His hair was pitch black, besides the ends that looked faded. The locks of his hair perfectly framed his face, and not a single strand was out of place. Your eyes wandered across his cheek to his jawline; his skin looked soft, yet his jaw was so masculine. Every nerve in your body wanted to reach up and caress his face. His mouth was in his permanent pout, but his lips looked kissable. Your gaze wandered up - even his nose was perfect - you reached his eyes, his beautiful red eyes.

Red eyes.

Watching you.

Instantly, your face matched that color. And his once pout turned into a smirk. All that you can think about is getting out of here. Your chair was pulled so forward against the desk that you couldn’t scoot back, so you tried to leap over the chair’s arm - but in your embarrassed state that proved to be too difficult. Tripping and nearly falling over, you caught yourself and heard a small chuckle come from behind you. You don’t even look back as you race out of his office and back to your room.

Closing the door behind you, you leaned against it and fell to the floor. What was that all about? Never in your life had you looked at another being the way you just looked at him. Yeah, when you saw Simeon you admired him, but you were admiring God’s work! Sure, Lucifer was handsome, but kissable? No way - no way in hell! You got up and started pacing the room. Why did you run away like a scared schoolgirl? You could’ve played that off, but now he definitely knows you were admiring his face! Would he use this against you? Oh, he would definitely use this against you.

It was Lucifer.

After the Fall Tag List @ptv-hades

[falloutjay]

Okay Clyde Donovan x flirty reader

Clyde tries to flirt with reader but it doesn't work, not because she rejected him or anything, but because she out flirts him and asks him out instead.

Two months later, This seems to take a poll on Clyde's masculinity like sometimes they fight over movies and by times Clyde is onboard with the romance movie, Reader changes her mind and wants to watch the action movie...And Clyde makes it slip by accident he wanted to see the romance movie, he is caught by the guys.

Or sometimes, he'll catch us talking to others guys with reader's massive charm. He almost goes Burn (y'know from Hamilton) but someone stops him from burning their memories away and convinces him to talk her instead.

He does, reader and Clyde talk things out, and things get better.

Thank you very much for your patience and for your request, I hope you enjoy it. You inspired me to make a flustered Clyde gif. It's sadly still WIP 😊

Clyde x Flirty!Reader

"And yeah, you know, that's why they call me the backbone of the team." Clyde said, smiling slyly at you and flexing his small muscles a little bit.

You just chuckled while biting your lip, contemplating if you should really say what was on your mind. "Well...I sure don't mind you being my backbone."

Your laugh was ringing in Clyde's ears. He didn't fully grasp what you just said, which is why he was just starring with you with a friendly expression, while his brain tried processing your words.

From afar the guys watched him. Craig shook his head, while the other three guys, Token, Tweek and Jimmy laughed.

"Ehm.. yeah.. so... Eh... What were we talking about?" Clyde was perplexed.

He wasn't sure what to do.

He was no stranger to flirting and he would say he's pretty good at it, but every time he talked to YN, his brain went straight out of the window.

"I don't know. But I know what he could do instead." You smiled devilishly and there was this mischievous glint in your eyes.

"And that would be?" Clyde asked, leaning over the cafeteria table you were seated at. He tried playing it cool again.

"You know, how about you..." Your index finger started drawing little circles on the back of his hand.

"Come over to my house, my parents are out of town, we just order some food, watch a movie and get down and dirty." Just like perfect timing, the bell rang, and you got up.

"You got my number, just text me if that sounds good to you." You smiled and started walking to your next class.

Clyde just sat at the table, almost like he was a statue since he couldn’t move at all.

"Clyde, move your ass, we don't wanna be late." Token said and shook him slightly.

"I told you they are something different."

Craig said and the guys just laughed about his misery. Meanwhile the brunette just managed to stutter.

"B-b-bu...but that... That was supposed to be my line."

Nether the less, Clyde still went over that weekend. He had a great time but at the back of his mind, something kept occupying his thoughts.

And it was this conversation you two had in the cafeteria.

It was just bothering him.

He was supposed to leave you stuttering. He was supposed to make those jokes. He was the man, he was supposed to flirt with you and make you giggle.

But then you just turned it around and all that. It made him wonder... Was he maybe not man enough?

Well, his friends always told him you were just a very different kind of person. But he never expected this.

After meeting up, they were pretty much seen as a couple by the whole school. Rumors spread fast, especially when Cartman gets his hand on any juicy gossip.

Walking down the hallway with a very flustered Clyde was amusing to you. The pink tint on his cheeks was always present and it only motivated you more to keep it always visible. Be it a dirty joke, some stupid pick-up line delivered in your most flirtatious voice or just touching him.

Two months passed by like this and the biggest problem for Clyde despite being out flirted every time by you was that he felt embarrassed in front of his friends.

He still pretended to be this cool and masculine boyfriend. His façade only crumbled when it came to the discussion of movies.

Whenever it came to what movies you two were going to watch he kept pretending to not like your suggestions.

“Too boring.” “Too cheesy” “Too girly”

When he felt like he played enough around or when it was a movie, he would actually like watching, he just agreed.

”Yeah, okay babe, we can watch ‘To all the boys I’ve loved before’. I don’t mind.” But then to his surprise, you would just laugh and smile evilly.

“Mhm.. I changed my mind. I’d like to watch Kill Bill.” You giggled and the guys would sometimes just encourage you, saying you had great taste.

“But I thought we were… We wanted to watch that movie?” By his expression, the guys could just easily tell that he was disappointed.

“O-Oh poor Cl-Clyde. G-G-G-ot the hots for P-P-Peter?” Jimmy joked and you all broke out in contagious laughter.

Except the brunette who would just try his best to not show how much this bothered him.

Another thing that bothered the brown-haired half-orphan was that your flirty and cocky behavior wasn’t exclusive for him.

While wanting to pick you up from one of your classes, he noticed you talking to Stan and Kyle.

“Nice muscles Stan. If Wendy wasn’t already with you, I’m sure every girl here would fight to get vomited on by you. Goes for both of you.” You giggled and so did the two best friends next to you.

“Not too sure about that, YN.” Stan laughed.

“Yeah, I wish girls would acknowledge me.” Kyle mumbled shyly.

“Ah Kyle, come on, you’re like a parking ticket, ‘cause you got FINE written all over you.” All of you laughed once more and Clyde’s blood was boiling.

Without any hesitation he turned around and caught up to his friends. He recounted everything and kept talking about how angry he was.

“They just keep flirting. I hate it. It’s like they don’t take us seriously. I just wanna end it all.” He fumed and Craig just let out a big sigh.

“Dude, it’s just how they are. If you have a problem with it, have you considered talking to them about it?” The black-haired questioned. The other guys also turning to look at Clyde.

“Eh..I guess not. Not really, I think..?” He said quietly.

“Then talk it out. Clyde, I know you are a bit dense but come on.” Token now insisted too.

“Fine, fine. You are right.” He said and turned around once more to sprint towards where he thought you would maybe still be.

And to his surprise you were there, still waiting in front of your classroom. When you spotted the brunette, you smiled warmly at him.

“There you are. I was waiting.” You said excited and he felt bad for being angry with you.

“Will you walk with me for a bit?” He questioned and extended his hand to you. You gladly took it and you two started walking through the school.

“How come you wanted to walk? Somethings up?” You asked and the grip on your hand got stronger.

“I…I don’t know how to say but... I kinda have a problem with you being so flirty and embarrassing me about movies and all that. It just…. Makes me feel less like a man.” The last part he mumbled very very quietly but you were luckily still able to catch it.

You giggled and Clyde almost thought you were making fun of him. “I’m sorry then. I sure didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I can tone it down a bit if you want.”

Clyde nodded. “That would be great.” You two laughed awkwardly. “So…Wanna watch ‘To all the boys I’ve loved before?’ tonight at your place?” You asked and smiled at the brunette. Clyde’s brown eyes starred right into yours while he smiled widely. “I’d love that, babe.”

You got on your tiptoes and pressed a sweet and tender kiss onto his lips. “Good, see you tonight, hun. I gotta go to class.”

With a pep in his step Clyde walked to his class. He felt fuzzy and warm inside, happy that the boys talked him into talking to you. Because he sure was in love with this incredibly flirty you.

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 Woken the dragon. Vis had always said that growing up, whenever she annoyed him—which was often. Now, staring down the barrel of his silver revolver, Daenerys felt another dragon wake inside her. A wild thing of rage and betrayal, ready to burn all who stood in her way. For herself. For Jon.

Viserys’s features were a narrower, masculine echo of her own. The expression he wore was one she recognized, composed but triumphant. Daenerys didn’t dare break eye contact, but she felt Ramsay looming behind her. On the edges of her periphery, she saw the car lurch and one, two, three bodyguards emerge. Ramsay jabbed the back of her head with the gun.

“Kneel,” he said. Daenerys did so. The bumpy asphalt dug into her knees. Five armed men twice her size and all she had was a two-bit nail.    

“Why?” she said, the word trembling in the air. Viserys’ face creased into a moue of displeasure.  

“I didn’t want all this, Dany. But you refused to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? What in the seven hells are you talking about?”              

“I thought you understood. The goal was to get it back, get everything back, no matter the cost!” Daenerys’ lips felt numb. She licked them, striving for patience, for calm. The tone she found was an old one, from when he would rage and throw things, railing at the unfairness of the world. A soothing medley.  

“To get our home back. I know, Vis. There’s been government red tape around Dragonstone. You’ve been to the meetings. We’re working on it.”

Dragonstone was their home, that was the thing that unified the two of them—the last Targaryens against the world.

“But the Dragon is mine! My birthright! A throne not meant for a sniveling girl who couldn’t keep her legs closed.” Gods, he was beyond his usual self-absorbed bullshit. This was some god-level projection coupled with delusions of grandeur. Daenerys went cold. Just like Dad. Still, the fire in her belly pushed words out before she could stopper them.  

“Dragon is mine, Vis. I built it. With my sweat and blood, I built it from the ground up. Breaking Chains as well.”

“Everything that is yours is also mine. I made you,” he hissed and prodded her forehead with the barrel of the gun, “If only you’d cooperated. Daario would--”

“What does Daario have to do with--” she began. Viserys slapped her so hard her cheek tingled and her ear rang.

With sudden blinding clarity, she understood. Viserys had taken loans from Stormcrow and had—she clenched her eyes shut at the fresh wave of betrayal. Two hot tears eked out. Daario had taken her as payment. Why else would Daario look so confused when she broke it off? Why else would Viserys demand she return to him, no matter the circumstances?

“You sold me.” Vis was unmoved.

“It worked out fine for you, didn’t it? You were even going to marry him. It was Daario who gave me the idea. He kept whining about the increased expense of your security detail after the death threats from the Harpies. They’re nothing but Ghiscari scum, they had no real power to make good on those threats.” Viserys’s lilac eyes took on a glazed, feverish shine.

“But then—ah ha!—think of the news coverage. The philanthropist CEO, Daenerys Targaryen, dedicated to bettering the downtrodden, slain by very villains she fought. So tragic. So cinematic. Dragon’s stock would go through the roof! Televise the funeral, rake in donations, weep a little for the cameras, and then . . . Dragon is mine and only mine. As it should be.” The tinny taste of blood leaked from the opened cut in her lip.  

“You’re insane,” she whispered. Viserys’s eye twitched and he gestured. Ramsay hauled her up by her bound hands. Pain shrieked through her shoulders and she bit back a cry. Ramsay drew a long, wicked knife and set it at the base of her throat.

“Oh yes, sweetling. We’ll get to play,” he whispered in her ear. Viserys stalked closer, patting Daenerys’ cheek with deceptive gentleness.

“You made it very difficult for me. You and this Jon Snow. It was a stroke of luck Ramsay extracted the name out of that Lorathi woman before she died. Such a little slut, aren’t you? How long had you been fucking the masseuse? He trotted after his bitch like you were in heat. I staged it to echo Dad’s death. Dirty and pathetic in an alley. My origin story, right? After my sister, my only family, dies tragically, I take up the reins of the company. Then you thwarted me. I admit, the machine guns on Loom Street were a bit much, but I was just so angry. Selmy was a good man, I trusted him. I do regret that.”

“You shot him in the street like a godsdamned dog! He--” Ramsay grazed her throat suggestively with the knife and Daenerys swallowed her choler.

Viserys plunged on as if he hadn’t heard her. Perhaps he didn’t.

“And then poof--” he snapped his fingers, “you dropped off the face of the earth! It wasn’t until I found the footage. You and Snow were still together. You sunk your hooks in deep, you wicked girl. Still, it’s a big world, and Snow had connections to Stark wealth, nearly as prodigious and ancient as the Targaryen’s. Lucky for me, Ramsay is a northman too. Loathes the Starks.”

“Self-righteous cunts,” Ramsay agreed.

“He thought to look for something smaller, more remote. And there it is, plain as day on public record microfiche, a deed for a house billed to Eddard Stark—Jon Snow’s father.” Jon. Dead. Burned to ash. A fresh wave of grief buffeted her.          

“Viserys, please,” she croaked, “I’ll step down. I’ll cede Dragon to you, I swear it. Just don’t do this.” He had the gall to look sad about it. He bent and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweet sister. It has to be this way.”

Daenerys glared him down. She tucked the nail between her fingers. There was only one chance to use it. She dragged in a deep breath, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. Wait. Wait for the right moment. Viserys snapped his fingers, gesturing for one of the burly guards. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger himself. The shadow of a snake.

“You are no dragon,” she said, mutinous.

Bam!

Bam bam!

Daenerys blinked dumbly as one of the bodyguards crumpled, bleeding from behind the ear. Viserys was cursing and shouting, ducking behind the remaining two, who shot blindly into the thick woods surrounding the tarmac. The noise and smoke filled her senses. Shots went wild, cutting holes in the sedan like cheese. Shattered glass tinkled on the ground. Ramsay cursed. He dropped his knife to draw his gun, yanking her tight against him.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” he hissed in her ear. I wish. Even if there was a park ranger or police officer who happened by, they would have announced themselves. Her security team was hundreds of kilometers away. And Jon was—Daenerys bit her lip.

The gunfire ceased. Her ears rang from the noise. Daenerys craned her head to look for Viserys. She saw his expensive leather shoes beneath the shattered door of the car, cowering. Where were the guards?

“Got him, Boss!” a rough voice said. Him? Her mystery defender? Her knees gave out when the burly men emerged from the brush.

“Jon?”

 ~

 Fuck. He was a fucking idiot. The calvary was on its way, all he had to do was stall. He could have picked off another one of the thick-necked fuckers, scared that chickenshit Viserys into spooking. On the other hand, seeing a gun pointed at his heart-and-fucking-soul made him a little twitchy. Jon had pushed the Old Bear’s beat-up truck to its limits to reach the airstrip, praying his hunch would pay off. And now all it did was get him a front-row seat to watching Dany die.              

The hunting rifle jammed, but he’d broken one of the goon’s jaw for his trouble. The utility knife was rolled in his sock, not that it did him much good at the moment. Goons One and Two had his arms in a lock behind his back, dragging him down the shallow hill to the tarmac. Dany’s sobs tore already pulverized heart into tinier shreds.

“Jon, Jon, I thought you were dead!” she said, her voice thick with tears. Jon flicked his gaze over her from her braid to her ziptied wrists to her bare feet. A bit battered, but whole, still—thank the gods. He turned his baleful gaze on the source of their misery. Viserys—the skinny little fuck—sneered at Jon. What kind of sick fuck wanted to assassinate his own sister?

“The unkillable Jon Snow.” Starks are hard to kill, Dad always said.

“The chickenshit Viserys Targaryen,” Jon shot back. Viserys made a curt shooing gesture.

“Gods. Let’s get this over with before anything else goes wrong. It’s going to cost me a fortune to clean all this up.”

“Boss, can’t I just shave off a--” The bug-eyed fuck who held Dany brandished the knife, nicking the curve of her jaw. Dany gasped, and Jon saw red watching the blood seep from the cut.

“Come try and shave off a bit of me, you little shit!” Jon shouted, lunging. He made a show of thrashing around until Goon Two backhanded him hard. He tasted blood, his ear rang. Jon sagged in their grip, snagging the knife with his fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up!” Viserys bellowed, shocking them all into silence. He jabbed a finger at the bug-eyed fucker.

“Ramsay, we’ve been over this. If you’d pulled off the job like you were supposed to, my sweet sister would be yours to play with as long as you like. As it is, I need her dead. Now. We have a schedule to keep.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Goon One said. Viserys scowled.

“He’s a complication. If he’s here in one piece and armed, he’s called the authorities.” Jon allowed a grim smile. If they made it out of here, Viserys would spend the rest of his pathetic life staring at the walls of Iron Island Penitentiary.

“We better move fast,” Ramsay said gleefully. Viserys kicked aside the body of one of his guards, fishing a pistol from a pool of blood with a moue of distaste.

“Yes, exactly. Any last words, Daenerys?” he said. Daenerys looked at Jon and in her violet eyes, he saw everything he ever wanted. Home. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I should have told you before. I love you,” she said.

And the world exploded.

 ~

 “I love you.”

Daenerys slammed the nail up and back with all of her strength. It stuck and Ramsay’s shriek rang in her ear.

“You fucking bitch!”

Daenerys ducked down, scrambling away from a staggering Ramsay. Gods. She’d been lucky. Through the sieve of his clutching fingers, she saw the head of the nail stuck in Ramsay’s left eye. Blood and snot poured down his cheeks from his blinded eyes. A flurry of movement. Jon, struggling with the remaining bodyguards. Viserys advanced on her.

“Gods, you’re such a troublesome little cunt! I’ll be glad to be rid of you!” Spittle clung to his lips, his face an inhuman rictus of rage. Daenerys crawled back on her hands and bare feet, feeling the hot bite of the shattered glass.

“Vis, please!” Daenerys screwed her eyes shut.

The loud rapport of the gun.

Bam! Bam! Two shots. A heavy weight landing hard on her. Daenerys snapped her eyes open.

Jon.

Jon: between her and Viserys.

Jon: sticking a knife in Viserys. A struggle. Jon was stronger, skilled. He wrenched the gun away from Viserys. Snaked an arm around his neck, squeezing. Vis fell facefirst. She heard a crunch.

“Dany,” Jon wheezed.

Jon: bleeding.

“Gods, Jon. Jon, you’re shot,” she whispered, pressing at the sticky red spot growing on his chest, awkward with her hands still bound. His breath was wet, rasping.

“Dany.”

Daenerys cast a wild glance around. It looked like a battlefield with destroyed car, dead bodyguards, Ramsay writhing and cursing, Viserys in an awkward heap. And Jon, her hero, her love, bleeding in her arms. Blood made his shirt sticky, another wound in his thigh. No, no, no. She had nothing, nothing but her empty hands to help him.

“It’s ok, Jon. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be fine,” she said, frantic. She’d seen the world without him. A bleak, lonely stretch of empty road. She couldn’t go back to that. Panic kept inching up her throat, strangling her. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

Daenerys looped her arms around his shoulders and heaved him up to rest on her knees. Jon grunted in pain, though his breathing was better. His beautiful eyes were dark with pain.

“Dany. Dany . . .” His brows puckered in a familiar intent scowl. She bent and rained kisses on his face, wishing there was more to do to help.

“Shh, don’t talk. Just focus on—”

“Dany, I love you. I was a . . . a coward before. I love you. Marry me.” There was barely enough breath to push the words out. A weak sob escaped her. Faintly, she heard the peal of a siren.

“Hold on, Jon. Help is coming! I love you, Jon. I love you. Hold on!”

He closed his eyes and Dany clutched him close.  

[battlestar-royco]

Maxine! Pls give your hot takes on Rap & misogyny

honestly rap is not my musical area of expertise but i definitely do listen and keep up with it to a certain extent! i can’t promise the takes will be groundbreaking but here we go:

for the most part it’s misogynoir in particular

there’s a hierarchy of clout and respect that was pioneered by black men but ppl like eminem, macklemore, mac miller, iggy etc started vulturing and being viewed as sensational. now it’s white men > white women > black men > black women etc

it’s intricately intertwined with homophobia due to male rappers’ constant fear of emasculation and the idea that attraction to men is “effeminate” (hate that word). they’re different for sure but i personally don’t think you can separate the two tbh

the homophobia is gendered. homophobic/sexist slurs are used to belittle other men--competitors. slurs are used against women--objects--who are not attracted to the rapper to make them seem like an aberration

also layered with classism, materialism, ageism, colorism, featurism etc. for example thin light-skinned women are featured way more often in videos as love interests and wearing status symbols (jewelry, hair, nails, brand name clothes blah), and dark-skinned women are background dancers or foils with more diverse body types. women are part of the material desires expressed in many rap songs

this is a prime example of how gender can be/is always racialized. gender expression across races/ethnicities uses different codifiers, making it easier for everyone else to call black women ghetto (a whole other issue to unpack) while benefitting off their presence and the way they add objective, incredible value to the rap genre. it’s specifically misogynoir bc when u see white women wearing grills, neon hair, braids, bantu knots etc they get praised

for straight black men, the gender hierarchy in rap is a form of catharsis and control bc they lack that control over racism

thus when you get a cultural fucking reset where women are building up other women’s confidence (truth hurts, run the world, etc) and ESPECIALLY!!! if it has to do with explicit autonomy over men (literally everything to do with wap), there is a backlash bc this is one of few spaces where black men are used to dominating

also absolutely worth mentioning what lil nas x is doing for the community and how much gaslighting, shit, and psychoanalysis he got for making a song about RIDING A HORSE bc he is gay?? :/ it’s the toxic masculinity babey

speaking of megan thee stallion she objectivelyyyyyy has so much more talent than most ppl on the scene at the moment that everyone should be ashamed of their entire career. she would’ve wrecked the market tenfold had she been a dude and/or white. oh and tory lanez choke challenge <3

which brings me back to the gender expression point. you notice how LNX’s masculinity is in question at the same time the femininity of megan, cardi b, nicki minaj, lizzo etc is in question? and then it’s used to dehumanize them and question their success? inch resting coincidence

ALL that said, white and nb rappers get away with all this and much more, as do other genres because the creators are not primarily black. for example the heavy metal and country genres are full of men who literally sing about murdering the women in their lives lol

rap carries a lot of the onus of misogyny in music. misogynistic songs hit the mainstream to add to the narrative of black men (& women) being predatory and hypersexual while the other more nuanced songs get widely ignored to the point where ppl literally think rap is just misogyny and materialism when it has a extremely complex and interesting history and covers a wide range of topics

[writings-of-dumpy]

George Weasley AU: Cedric’s Sister

A/N: THIS IS THE GOD DAMN MAGNA CARTA. This mother fucker is 19k words, so strap in, bitches.

Warnings: Swearing, violence, major character death, and smut at the end.

Summary: George Weasley is not honest with his feelings for his longtime friend Claire Diggory, but the challenges they face at the end of their schooling pushes them to be closer than ever.

Fred and George were always flirts. With almost every girl they knew, it was a constant game of flirting for them. They came by it so naturally, but reserved the sweeter pet names for their closest friend, Claire Diggory. Only a year younger than her brother, Claire fell into Ravenclaw house the same year Fred and George were placed in Gryffindor. Their fathers had gotten along wonderfully over Arthur Weasley's time at the Ministry, so Fred and George were fast friends with both Diggory children, but were especially close to the youngest who was just their age, Claire.

“Good morning, petal,” Fred greeted her every morning with a wink. It never failed to make her blush, which George found incredibly cute.

“Good morning you bozos,” she greeted. They alternated which table they'd have breakfast at because it was only required to sit with your house on the first and last meals at Hogwarts. Most of the Great hall was a mix of colored ties and robes as well as the few seventh years who wore casual clothes to breakfast because their mornings were clear.

“Here comes the post,” George noticed as owls flew over their heads. A large package landed in front of Ron, who looked stunned.

“Mum and dad sent me something!” he said excitedly.

“Oh no,” Fred teased and the trio looked toward the younger Weasley. Ron opened up the package and his face soon turned horrified.

“They're not for Ginny, they're for you!” Hermione mused after a few moments of teasing from Harry. The twins laughed at their brother's bewildered face. “Dress robes!”

“Dress robes? For what?!” Ron asked.

“The Yule Ball of course,” Cho Chang said from the other side of George. “Come on Claire, Flitwick's expecting us.”

“Of course. Can't let my dance partner Thomas down, now can I,” Claire said sarcastically and shared a look with Fred and George. “I'll see you guys in potions.”

“Yeah, see you...” George said and waved as she and Cho walked out of the Hall. “Dance partner?”

“Attention all of Gryffindor house. A mandatory house meeting will be held in the adjacent classroom to your left in fifteen minutes. All Gryffindor students must attend this meeting or will face severe consequences,” McGonagall's voice rang out. Fred and George looked at each other in confusion.

“Must be pretty serious for the whole house to need to attend,” George surmised. He soon realized that McGonagall valued the reputation of Gryffindor higher than her competitiveness during quidditch.  

After the dance lesson concluded, Fred and George headed to potions class.

“That was a terrible waste of time, but I'm so glad she picked Ron to dance with her,” Fred chuckled as they walked toward the dungeons.

“Oh I wish I had a camera!” George said.

“Hi guys,” Claire said with a smile as she met up with them in the hall.

“Hello, petal. How was your dance lesson?” Fred asked. “Were you a swan?”

Claire laughed and shook her head. “Far from it. Thomas was ever so kind when I stepped on his toes so many times, though.”

George smiled and thought about how adorable she must have been.

“So, I suppose we'd better scout some dates out, eh?” Fred suggested.

“Yeah, I just hope nobody asks me before I can ask them, it'd be really embarrassing for a girl to ask me,” George said nonchalantly.

“Why's that?” Claire asked. George shrugged.

“Call it toxic masculinity,” he said. Claire smiled and nodded her head.

The air around the students in the month leading up to the Yule Ball was becoming increasingly frantic, but Claire wasn't worried. If someone wanted to go with her, they'd ask. She was perfectly happy going alone. Well, not perfectly. She very much wanted George to ask her, but she'd never let on about it.

“So, here's all the ingredients we need for this potion, right?” George said and set down the armful of various bottles and boxes on the desk.

“I think so,” Claire said after looking at the items. They had been paired for their potions project and had spent the afternoon together in the library getting their assigned potion ready for presentation tomorrow.

“Are you alright? You haven't said much,” George said after a beat. Claire looked up from stirring the potion in the cauldron and furrowed her brows at him.

“Yeah, I'm alright. Suppose I'm just worried is all,” Claire said with a shrug.

George leaned on his elbows and peered at her from across the table. His eyes shone of mischief and concern. “About what, flower?”

Claire smiled at the name. “About Cedric. The FIRST task was to fight a dragon... Who knows what the second task will be.”

“I'm sure he'll be alright. He's smart and strong. Not as smart as you, though, darling,” George said with a wink. Claire blushed slightly. George often said things like this and it gave Claire hope that maybe he on some level returned her feelings, but she wouldn't act on them... Not before she knew he felt the same. George was a dear friend and she needed him in her life one way or another.

About two weeks before the ball, study hall was well underway for the whole school. Cho and Claire sat next to each other at the Ravenclaw table, but Claire could very clearly see Fred and George who were sat opposite them at the Gryffindor table. Each time Claire looked up, Fred or George sent her a small wink and Claire shook her head with a smile. At this point she had finished almost all of her notes that Snape had assigned, so she was stalling and waiting until her best friends were done so they could all walk together. Claire noticed that George's face fell after a moment and he chewed his lip. He and Fred shared a look and Fred gestured towards Claire. Claire was confused but starting to get nervous. Why were they talking about her? George then shot Ron a piece of paper. Ron was bad at whispering, so Claire could hear everything.

“Who'll you go with, then?” Ron said. George smirked and wadded up a piece of paper, then threw it at Angelina to get her attention. She looked slightly annoyed, but then George gestured dancing and then pointed to himself while asking her to the ball silently. She looked flustered and then said yes, of course, and George smiled proudly. Claire watched and felt her stomach drop. Fred looked impressed and Claire felt like she was going to cry. George looked up and made eye contact with her, so she quickly pushed her heartbreak down and smiled at him with a thumbs up. He had a neutral expression and smiled back at her.

“Would you like to come to the dress shop with me, Fleur and Hermione tomorrow night? I'm sure they won't mind the company,” Cho asked after seeing Claire's face fall once George had looked away.

“I'd love that, thank you,” Claire said, grateful for such an observant friend. She felt tears threaten to well up and fall from her face and the aching in her chest grew worse. “I'm gonna go...”

Cho gave her a sympathetic look and gently patted Claire's shoulder. Claire got up and turned her notebook into Snape, who gave a curt look and snatched the book from her. She didn't dare look at Fred or George even though she was sure they were confused since they had all agreed to meet up afterward. She walked out of the Hall using all of her strength to fight back the tears and sobs that were threatening to escape her throat. She was so focused on getting back to Ravenclaw commonroom without being seen that she wasn't watching where she was going and bumped into someone.

“I'm so sorry, I—oh, hey Cedric,” she said relaxing when she didn't have to apologize to a potentially rude stranger. She was impressed that her words weren't whimpers, but she assumed the momentary adrenaline rush helped her sobs subside.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “You seem... flustered.”

“Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. Just a busy week,” Claire lied to her brother.

“Those Weasley boys aren't giving you any trouble are they?” he said with a smile. “I heard George was going to ask you to the ball.”

Claire let out a small laugh and blinked tears away as she was reminded of her most recent heartbreak. “Well that rumor was false because he asked Angelina Johnson... Just now.” Cedric's face fell.

“I'll kick his ass,” Cedric said and started toward the Hall. Claire gripped his arm.

“No, Cedric! No, it's fine. It's not like we ever talked about it, it's fine,” Claire pleaded. Cedric calmed himself and patted her on the back.

“Well, I'm glad I ran into you. Would you be willing to give this to Cho for me? Like, leave it on her pillow?” he asked and handed Claire a card. She let out a breath and smiled.

“Sure, I will creepily put this on my friend's pillow,” Claire said slowly and took the card.

“You're the best,” Cedric said and gently touched the tip of Claire's nose which caused Claire to roll her eyes.

~*~

“So... Angelina, huh?” Fred asked George after study hall concluded. “Thought for sure you would have asked Claire by now.”

George felt slightly guilty and swallowed thickly. “No, um... I wanted to ask Angelina.”

“Well you won't mind if I ask Claire then, would you? Make a show of it?” Fred said with a sly smirk.

“You're not serious,” George asked with a lower tone. George had never been honest about his feelings for Claire and never admitted them even to himself, but this made his blood run cold in jealousy. He never considered Fred maybe felt the same way he did about Claire, and he felt like a knife was plunged into his stomach.

“I definitely am serious. So I'll take her to the ball. I mean since you have no romantic interest in her,” Fred said with a sly smile.

George swallowed, then clenched and unclenched his jaw. He stuffed his feelings down as he always did and didn't dare give Fred the satisfaction. “I, um... Yeah, okay. Show her a bloody good time. Shag her for all I care!” George began to walk away in embarrassment and heartbreak. He did it to himself, of course, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

“Oh, you'd be so mad if I did,” Fred chortled.  

“Nope! Very happy for both of you!” George shouted with a wave behind him with his back turned as he climbed the stairs leaving Fred laughing maniacally.

~*~

The following morning, Claire came down to have breakfast and found a red enveloped howler note  placed where she usually sat at the Ravenclaw table. She wasn't in the mood to be yelled at after yesterday's events that left her in her dorm crying for the remainder of the afternoon and well into the evening.

“Go on, open it!” Cho encouraged with a smile. Claire bit her lip and gently opened the red envelope. A musical melody played for a few seconds and the howler transformed into a rose. Claire had never seen such a clever way to make a howler.

“My dearest Claire, would you please do me the honor of attending the Yule Ball with me as your very romantic date? I promise to be a perfect gentleman the entire night. Love, Fred Weasley,” the howler said in Fred's voice as loud as the Great Hall would allow. “PS, turn around.”

Claire, shocked, turned around and saw Fred stood there with his longer hair flowing and a rose extended to her. He wore a hopeful and innocent smile on his face: a look Claire hadn't seen often on Fred. Remembering the promise she made to move on from her deep-seated feelings for George, she laughed and took the rose from him with a nod.

“Yes, I would love to,” Claire accepted with a slightly embarrassed smile.

Fred held his fist up in the air and they went to sit at the Gryffindor table next to George and Angelina. Fred beamed proudly and allowed Claire to sit before he did and sat close to her. Claire smiled and blushed at their proximity.

“How exciting!” Angelina gushed and smiled brightly at Claire. George's face was unreadable and Claire felt slightly guilty for playing into the show that Fred put on, but then remembered that George was the one who didn't ask her, and she didn't owe him anything. She decided last night after her heart was broken that she would stop pursuing him—he clearly didn't want her. Fred, however, seemed to show at least a little bit of interest. She hadn't thought of Fred that way, but maybe he was lurking under her nose this whole time. She smelled the rose he had given her and looked up at him with a smile. He winked at her and took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

That night, Claire, Cho, Hermione, and Fleur were all trying on dresses for the Yule ball at a shop in Hogsmeade. Fleur had helped each of them (especially Hermione) pick out a dress that best suited them and Claire couldn't lie, the pick she had for her was stunning. A floor-length navy blue a-line dress with silver jewels along the neckline and straps and a blue shift overlay made her look incredible. She felt confident and beautiful in the dress and stepped out to show her friends, who were also changed into their potential gowns.

“So, wait... I thought you fancied George? Forgive me if I'm overstepping, Claire,” Hermione asked once they had all seen each other and gushed about how lovely they all looked.

“It's okay. I mean... It's clear that George doesn't have those feelings for me and I'd rather be with someone who wants to be with me, you know? Fred is a bolder choice, but he knows me well and we get along great. And it seems like he might actually feel something more than friendship towards me.. Who knows? Maybe I'll start to feel the same,” Claire answered.

Cho nodded. “I know what you mean, but don't settle. It'll never make you happy.”

Claire smiled at her friend and nodded. “I know. Thank you.”

The night of the Yule Ball, Claire felt incredibly nervous. She and Cho walked out of Ravenclaw commonrrom, then followed the mass of students dressed to the nines towards the Great Hall. She and Fred had agreed to meet in the foyer and she had hoped she wasn't waiting too long for him or vice versa. Once they reached the last staircase to the Great Hall, Claire spotted two tall gingers standing off to the side in front of the doors to the Great Hall. She made eye contact with George, whose face fell in awe. She blushed at his gaze and admired how nice he looked in his dress robes. Claire smiled and waved at him shyly, then looked at Fred, who then trotted up the stairs to meet her. Fred also looked handsome and she noticed that the twins were wearing matching robes.

“My lady,” he said and offered his arm to her. She giggled and took it with a bright smile.

“Thank you, Fred,” she said. She still felt George's eyes on her as they proceeded into the Great Hall. Claire looked up at the decorations in wonder.

“It's so beautiful in here,” she said.

“Doesn't hold a candle to you tonight, darling,” Fred said with a sly smirk.

“I see I get full-on charmer Fred tonight,” Claire laughed.

Fred winked at her. “Couldn't pass that one up, petal.”

Claire stole a glance at George and saw his jaw tensed and his eyes cast down. She wondered why he looked so upset. Maybe these sorts of gatherings made him uncomfortable? She hoped he'd be able to have fun anyway. They stood off to the side as the champions and their dates entered the Great Hall and walked onto the dance floor. Claire waved to her brother and Cho, who both sent her beaming smiles. The music began to play and Claire watched as the champions waltzed for a few bars, then Dumbledore led McGonagall out onto the floor, quickly followed by a very eager Neville Longbottom and Fred's sister Ginny.

“Aw, Ginny's got a date,” Claire said to Fred.

“Yeah, I'll let him live,” Fred began after a huff.

“For tonight,” George completed. Claire laughed and shook her head at their protectiveness.

Fred stood closer to Claire and bowed slightly. “May I have this dance, petal?”

Claire bit her lip in embarrassment and blushed. She placed her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor. They joined the group and Claire did her best not to step on Fred's toes, but when he put her back down from the lift they were taught, her toes came into contact with his briefly.

“I'm so sorry,” she muttered through laughter. Fred laughed with her and shrugged.

“It's fine, darling,” he said. When the music became more raucous, so did their dancing. At one point Fred and George switched partners and Claire felt sick with butterflies when George took her hand and spun her around a couple times. She felt dizzy but not from the spins and she felt George hold her close to him as they danced. He smiled widely at her as they swayed to the music and Claire couldn't help but smile back.  

“You do look beautiful tonight, doll,” George complimented with an almost sad tone.

“Thank you. You're very handsome,” Claire responded. George's cheeks went pink. Claire smiled and they danced for another moment before Fred pulled Claire back to him.

Fred was a very exuberant dancer and Claire tried her best to keep up, but found herself mostly watching him and him twirling her a few times. During a break that the band was taking, Fred gently gripped her hand and pulled her off the dance floor to a table.

“I'm going to get drinks,” Fred said.

“Yeah, I'm so parched. Want one, George?” Angelina said and fanned herself.

“Um, yeah, thanks. We'll hold the table,” George said with a smile. After a small pause, Claire decided to cut the tension and speak up.

“Are you having a good time?” she asked.

“Yeah, lovely time. It's a good night. You?” he asked.

“I'm having a great time! Everything is so fun in here,” Claire gushed. George looked as though he was hanging on her every word.

“You really do look incredible tonight, dove,” he said after a beat.

Claire blushed. “Thank you.”

“Alright, a punch for the lady,” Fred said as he returned to the table. The four of them sat down and the music started up again. The refreshment table cleared out as many of the students that were there went to dance more.

Claire drank the blue liquid down slowly and admired how fruity it tasted. She looked between Fred and George for a moment and suspected they may have put something in it to liven the night up, but then remembered that they'd probably get expelled for a prank that dangerous.

“You two didn't put anything in this, did you?” Angelina asked after taking a sip.

“Too late now. The whole school will be in love with us by morning,” George quipped with a sly smile and gave Fred a high five. Angelina's face dropped.

“They're not serious,” Claire explained with a slight shake of her head and eyes rolled.

Angelina looked slightly worried and looked between them. “How do you tell..?”

Claire shrugged and smiled at her best friends. She finished her punch and placed the cup on the table once more. When Fred finished his, a slow song began to play and he looked at Claire with a large smile.

“Care for a dance, my dearest?” Fred asked and offered his hand to her. Claire blushed and took it. As they made their way to the dace floor, Claire felt George's eyes on the two of them. Fred smoothed his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him and Claire draped her arms around his neck. The two had hugged before, but only briefly. This was the closest Claire had been to Fred ever, she thought. It was nice. He felt sturdy supporting her, and he was warm and soft to the touch. His arms were solid around her but not overbearing and she rested her head on his chest as they swayed back and forth. She thought about when George had held her earlier this evening and did her best to not compare the two. She enjoyed being in Fred's arms like this, but something about the way George's hands felt on her was more intimate and deliberate. Very briefly, she looked over and saw George looking in their direction. His face was unreadable and Claire surmised that he and Fred were having some sort of nonverbal conversation. Claire felt the softness of Fred's lips on her head and her stomach flipped. George cast his gaze down and looked away as Fred's lips kissed Claire's head once more. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, his lips, and it did make her nervous, but mostly because nobody had ever been this close with her before. She had a very brief affair with a boy named Frank last year, but that was no more than a peck or two here and there for the month they were seeing each other. Claire's cheeks went hot and she looked up at Fred.

“What was that for?” she asked in a soft voice. Fred shrugged.

“Just felt the urge. You're alright with that?” he asked earnestly.

Claire nodded and curled her lips upward slightly. “I liked it.”

Fred's cheeks turned slightly pink and for a moment Claire grinned with pride. As the night wound down, Claire and Fred decided to retire. She looked around for George to bid him good night, but didn't see him or Angelina anywhere. The thought of George with her alone somewhere sat in her mind like a moment-ruining goblin, but she was pulled from her bad feelings when she and Fred reached the Ravenclaw commonroom.

“I had a wonderful time with you tonight, petal,” Fred said as they faced each other. Claire hadn't noticed until now, but their hands had been interlocked the entire walk from the Great Hall to Ravenclaw tower. She smiled at his hands holding hers and then looked up at him.

“I did too, Fred. Thank you for a magical evening,” she said. Fred tucked his lip between his teeth and pulled her in for a hug good night. She gently embraced him and his strong arms encased around her with his hand supporting the back of her head. When they pulled away, their cheeks brushed together, which sent a jolt of nerves down Claire's spine. Neither Fred nor Claire pulled farther back. A beat fell between them before Fred's voice spoke barely above a whisper.

“I guess we should snog now,” he said. Claire's cheeks were lit aflame and she nodded, now curious about how Fred's lips would feel against her own. Fred's lips connected with hers and the sparks that Claire expected to feel fell short. She didn't feel any emotion in their kiss, it was merely two sets of lips moving together. It wasn't unpleasant, though, and Claire thought it was actually quite nice. Fred was a damn good kisser, but without any emotion fueling it, Claire didn't feel much.

Their lips parted and their grip on each other loosened. They were both flustered and let out a few nervous laughs before Claire said good night and entered the commonroom.

~*~

George didn't know why, but he felt a pull to Ravenclaw tower. He felt guilty for not saying good night to Claire, but Angelina seemed tired and he wanted to be a good date for her. He walked her to the commonroom and bid her good night and told her he was going to find Fred. She smiled and waved at him and now here George stood in the corridor before Ravenclaw commonroom. He saw Fred and Claire at the entryway sharing a hug and before he could greet them, Fred's lips were attached to hers. George had never wanted to punch his twin so much. Jealousy and pain filled him to the brim as he watched them share the moment. He felt like his world was crumbling and he refused to understand why. The entire evening his eyes kept wandering in a longing gaze towards Claire, who mostly wore a brilliant smile tonight, and that made this interaction between her and Fred all the worse for him.

“What are you playing at? You don't fancy her, do you?” George challenged Fred after Claire was behind the door.

Fred turned and looked at him, then wiped his lower lip clean of her lip balm color. “I could be in love with her for all you know.”

George took a step back and his face furrowed and he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. “You're in love with her?”

Fred rolled his eyes and looked slightly angry. “No, you idiot. YOU are, but you're too bloody blind to see it.”

George frowned and they walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence. Fred didn't know what he was talking about, George was only interested in friendship with Claire George told himself over and over. It didn't matter that she was the object of his thoughts nearly all the time, and it didn't matter that he ached to be the one kissing her just then, no. He was just tired, that's all. He'd feel better in the morning...

~*~

“Hey you,” Fred greeted Claire one morning.

“Good morning to you too. Where's George?” she asked, thinking it unusual that Fred approached her alone.

“He'll be along. I wanted to ask you something,” Fred said. Claire motioned for him to continue with a nod of her head. He continued, “Would you go on a date with me to The Three Broomsticks tonight? Seven o'clock sound good?”

Claire's heart flipped in her chest. Her mouth hung slightly agape in shock as it had been a few weeks since their kiss and Fred hadn't made much in terms of moves toward a relationship. Claire supposed that this was his move and agreed.

“Um, yeah, sounds lovely,” she said with a  smile. Fred beamed and squeezed her hand, then sat down across the table from her as George joined them for breakfast. Claire smiled at George and he smiled back. Things had been pretty normal since the Yule Ball except Claire had expected her feelings for George to go away by now. She had hoped that going on a date with Fred would set her mind straight, but she also feared that she was in for more hurt.  

That evening, Claire walked into the courtyard before the entrance to Hogsmeade and found Fred standing there waiting for her. He smiled when he saw her and offered his arm to her and they made their way into the village.

“Are you excited about St. Patrick's day?” she asked him as she took note of the shamrock decorations and remembering his affiliation with the Irish quidditch team.

“Oh yeah. Georgie and I've got a few good pranks up our sleeves,” he winked. “None aimed at you, of course, petal.”

Claire laughed. “Thank goodness.”

They arrived at the pub and Fred pulled out Claire's chair for her before sitting down across from her. He smiled and ordered two butterbeers to start as the waiter handed the menus out. Their evening was filled with jokes, laughter, and an all around good time. Much like their time at the Yule Ball, Fred was an absolute gentleman.

“We have fun together, don't we?” Fred asked.

Claire smiled and nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“Do you trust me?” Fred asked in a more serious tone as they walked back into the courtyard. Claire looked at him quizzically.

“Of course I do, Fred,” she said.

Fred nodded and looked to be in thought for a moment. He then turned to face her head on and took her hands in his.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Claire looked at him suspiciously, but after a moment she let her eyes close. She wondered what Fred was up to. The silence of the courtyard weighed heavy on her in that moment and she wondered if maybe Fred had left. Suddenly, though, she felt a familiar pair of lips on hers. Fred kissed her with a bit more fire than their first time, but Claire felt the same. She tried, she really did... but Fred didn't spark any feelings in her. Claire pulled away from him and cast hear head down.

“We're better as friends aren't we?” Fred asked. “I mean don't get me wrong, you're one hell of a snog, but...”

“No magic in it,” Claire said. Fred smiled and nodded.

“Well at least it's mutual and now that we've gotten it out of the way we can move on,” Claire shrugged and they walked back to the corridors inside the castle.

Fred chuckled. “George is a lucky man.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks, then looked at Fred, who stopped a few paces ahead of her.

“Why would you say that?” she asked innocently. Fred rolled his eyes.

“I know how you feel about him and how he feels about you, it's obvious,” Fred shrugged. Claire tilted her head away from him and looked at him through a side-swept view.

“So what, you just went out with me to make him jealous?” Claire asked with a soft and slightly broken voice.

Fred's eyes went wide and he closed the space between them. “No, no... Make no mistake, I wanted to take you out because I had a crush on you. Seems George and I have similar taste.”

Claire relaxed a bit and Fred continued, “But... There's nothing but a cherished friendship between us. You're honestly more like a sister to me now. But George... his feelings are much deeper. He'll come around.”

~*~

On the day of the second task, Fred and George were too busy collecting bets to notice Claire's complete absence from breakfast and lunch. George had wondered for a brief moment where Claire was between both meals, but after he and Fred got into their zone at the docks as students headed to the second task in the mid afternoon, he had forgotten that this morning was unlike the others he'd had.

“Hey, where's Claire?” Cho asked from behind them once the stands were full and the task was about to begin.

Fred and George shared a look, then turned back to Cho.

“She's not with you?” Fred asked. Cho shook her head. George had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Is she up there next to Cedric?” George asked in hope.

Cho shook her head once again. “I was just there, no sign of her. Cedric's worried sick... She never came back to the dorm last night either.”

George felt similarly. If she wasn't here and she wasn't near Cedric, where could she have gone? Before George could think too much, the cannon fired and the champions were off. He, Fred, and Cho decided to spread out and look more thoroughly for Claire while they waited for the champions to resurface. George searched the stands for almost thirty minutes before he circled back to where he was standing before. He met up with Fred and Cho and neither of them had found her.

“There's no way she wouldn't come to support her brother,” George concluded aloud. His heart sank into his stomach and he searched his thoughts for a way to find Claire.

Just then, two heads breached the water. The three of them were stood close enough to the jumping off point that George could clearly see that Cedric had resurfaced and won the task. The crowd cheered as Cedric swam to the docks with a huge winning smile on his face. George was pushed closer to the edge than he'd like, but then he saw the other person that had surfaced: Claire. Something wasn't right, though. Unlike Cedric, she hadn't moved. In fact, George couldn't see any sign of life from her. He panicked when he saw her floating and nothing being done about it, and without another thought, he rid himself of his jacket and plunged into the ice cold water.

“George, no!” he heard Fred yell as he leapt in, but George didn't care. He needed to make sure that Claire was okay. Every force in the universe was screaming at him to dive in and pull her to safety. He didn't have to swim very far to reach Claire's floating form and for that he was grateful. The icy waves that splashed on him and surrounded him were none other than wholly brutal. He understood Fleur stopping prematurely in her task and he wondered how Cedric had stayed down there for so long, then panicked more at the prospect of Claire being down there for even longer. He grabbed her around her waist and pulled her to the ladder where Cedric helped her limp body back onto dry land.

Cedric appeared to be in a state of composed panic as he looked to Dumbledore and Barty Crouch, who were standing behind him with worried expressions.

“Is this part of the task?! I need to know NOW,” Cedric demanded of them. George made quick work of checking to make sure Claire was still alive. She had taught them this skill set in their fourth year when the threat of coming upon a poor soul who'd been petrified was high: how to check for a pulse and breathing. Luckily George was able to find both of these, but he was sure they were weaker than they were supposed to be. His hands didn't feel the warmth of her skin like he expected—she was practically frozen. George felt a blanket placed around his shoulders, but he immediately wrapped Claire up in it.

“No, the task is over for you, she should be conscious,” Barty blubbered.

“It seems the unpetrification spell wasn't as powerful for her. Miss Granger came out just fine,” Dumbledore observed and looked over to where Viktor Krum had just rescued Hermione from the depths.

“To hell with this, I'm taking her to the infirmary,” George said and scooped her up in his arms. He hadn't felt the additional blankets that were placed over his shoulders and only noticed them when he lifted her and they fell. He hurried to a boat and ignored Cedric's complaints as the judges held him in place to accept the results of the task. Fred and George boarded a boat as fast as they could to the shore and George did his best to keep Claire from getting colder. He looked down at her face as the boat floated across the lake at a seemingly agonizingly slow pace. Her lips were a blue tint and she looked pale. Her eyes were shut and if George hadn't known better, he'd say she was sleeping peacefully. His heart was beating out of his chest with adrenaline, but that didn't stop it from swelling with worry for the girl he held so close in his arms.

When they arrived at the shore, they made a mad dash for the hospital wing of the castle. George was careful not to jostle Claire too much, and he doesn't think he's ever run faster in his life. If he weren't so cold from his dip in the lake, he probably would be sweating bullets. They reached the wing and burst through the doors.

“Madam Pomfrey!” George bellowed. She poked her head out from behind a curtain and George saw her eyes grow wide. She silently directed him to place Claire on a large and empty hospital bed in the corner of the room.

“What happened?” she asked.

“It was the second task. She was in the Black Lake for Cedric and Dumbledore mentioned a petrification spell,” George said and reluctantly placed her on the bed. Madam Pomfrey's eyes squinted and she looked between George and Claire. She placed a hand on Claire's cheek and nodded. She muttered something and waved her wand above where Claire was lain before her and various numbers appeared in translucent blue letters for Madam Pomfrey to read. Pomfrey then nodded and the letters floated above them and mostly out of sight.

“We need dry clothes. For both of you,” Pomfrey said.

“I'll go get some,” Fred said and ran out of the room toward Gryffindor tower.

“Thank you for volunteering to keep her warm, Mr. Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey said with a gesture to George's wet clothes and hair, then began riffling through the cabinets above and beside Claire's bed.

“Pardon?” George asked.

Madam Pomfrey pulled out a small brown cup that looked like it had been in a furnace several minutes too long. She poured a black liquid into it from an equally charred bottle, then handed it to George.

“The best way to cure hypothermic shock is with body heat. Drink this, it'll prevent you from getting to Ms. Diggory's state. In other circumstances—were she conscious—I would give her some of this, too, but since you also require heat support, why not kill two birds with one stone, eh? Go on, drink up,” Madam Pomfrey said and gestured for George to drink the contents of the cup.

His stomach flipped and he looked at Claire, then drank the cup down. It felt like lava going down his throat, but the burning subsided almost as quickly as it arrived. Shortly thereafter, he felt a warmth radiating from his stomach that spread throughout his whole body. It was slow, but noticeable.

“Okay, I've got some clothes. Sorry, George, she's going to borrow a couple things,” Fred said as he reentered the infirmary.

“Excellent. Garmentus replaccus,” Madam Pomfrey said and waved her wand over the new clothes. In an instant, George felt dryer and was wearing the t-shirt Fred was previously holding as well as a pair of sweatpants he had picked. Fred looked confused as he held not only George's wet clothes, but Claire's as well.

“Good, now get under that blanket and hold her tight. Get comfortable, looks like you're in for a long night,” she instructed. George's eyes went wide.

“Uh... um...” George stammered. “The night?”

“Yes. I'm assuming you want to help her?” Madam Pomfrey said. George nodded, and without another word, he cautiously crawled under the blanket and held Claire in his arms. It was a nice feeling and one he didn't know he needed until now. His arms looped around her shoulders and the other around her middle. He looked down and noticed Fred had pulled out an older quidditch jersey that Claire was now wearing. George smiled to himself at the sight of her in his clothes. He liked it and thought maybe she could keep the jersey. Fred's expression went from worried to slightly smug as Madam Pomfrey walked away.

“Need anything?” Fred asked with a smirk. George brushed it off.

“Well dinner would be nice,” George said and adjusted himself so that he and Claire were cocooned together in the puffy blanket. Fred chuckled.

“You know, we can take turns cuddling her,” Fred said with a shrug.

George's head snapped up to look at Fred. “What?”

Fred laughed and rolled his eyes as he turned to leave. “You're impossible, Georgie. I'll get you something from the Great Hall.”

“Is she here? Is she okay?” George heard Cedric's voice say from the other end of the long room.

“She's stable. Mr. Weasley kindly volunteered to watch over her and keep her warm,” Madam Pomfrey said calmly. “I have her monitored and will keep her here tonight until she wakes up.”

“Can I please see her?” Cedric begged. George heard Madam Pomfrey sigh and then a pair of footsteps grew closer until Cedric and Madam Pomfrey appeared into George's vision. Cedric's eyes widened and he rushed to Claire's side.

“Has she woken up? Has she said anything?” he asked George.

George shook his head apologetically.

“She probably won't wake up for a long time,” Madam Pomfrey said. “The Black Lake is usually cold, but this time of year it's a good day when it isn't frosted over. She's lucky to be alive.”

After a moment, Cedric spoke lowly, “She was down there all day...”

George's breath was caught in his throat. The severity of what had happened to Claire had dawned on him like a tsunami. The entire time that she had been missing—from last night through most of the day—she had been petrified in the bottom of the Black Lake. Madam Pomfrey's words rang out in his mind and he instinctively pulled her closer to him.

“She could have died,” George said mostly to himself.

Cedric bit his lip. “I know... I saw her and swam as fast as I could to get her.”

“Why didn't you make sure she was okay before heading to the docks? I jumped in and got her, Cedric,” George said with a slightly accusatory tone.

“And I can never thank you enough for that. I assumed that the magic to petrify her had been done in the lake, so once she breached the surface, the spell would break, like most magic under water. I was wrong... Look, I know how you feel about her, and I want you to know that I think you're a good match for her, especially since you're willing to risk your life like that,” Cedric said.

George felt flustered. “No, I... We're just friends. She'd do the same for me.”

“Exactly. Just don't break her heart, okay?” Cedric said. George shook his head and wondered why Cedric felt the need to say this to him. Had Claire told him something? George wondered if maybe Claire... No. You're just friends, George thought purposefully.

“Alright I got some soup and mashed potatoes with a couple rolls and for dessert some cherry pie,” Fred said as he entered from the other side of the dividing curtain. Once he looked up, he saw Cedric and his face fell. “Oh, sorry... I didn't know you were here, otherwise I'd bring you some too.”

Cedric smiled and shook his head as he stood up. “That's okay. I should probably head to dinner anyway—Cho's probably worried.”

“Alright, well, see you then,” George said. “We'll let you know when she wakes up.”

“Thanks,” Cedric said with a smile and then left.

It wasn't until Fred left that evening (more like kicked out as he would have stayed all night had it not been for Pomfrey's insistence) that George felt a cramp in his side. He looked down at Claire, whose face was now only dimly lit by the small amount of blue light from the numbers above her and the moon shining through the window. She looked slightly better and her lips were only a fair shade of purple now. He placed a hand on her cheek and it was significantly warmer than a few hours ago, and for that he was grateful. Careful not to pull the blanket from her, he turned to his side and pulled her with him. With her pressed against him and his arm around her waist, he looked at her face once more before drifting to sleep.

His dreams were full of her—her laugh, her smile, her eyes, everything—and he wasn't upset by it. He enjoyed seeing her laugh at his jokes and wave at him from across the Great Hall. He imagined her in places she hadn't been in a long time like his house during the summer and Christmas, then longed for those visits to be real. In his dream, he could hold her when he wanted and moments before he woke up, his lips were locked with hers in a passionate action. His heartbeat quickened and he felt his pulse in his throat. His chest heaved to accommodate the wave of breathlessness he felt and as he traced small circles on her back, and he knew what had become of him. He couldn't deny it any longer, and no matter how hard he tried to push his feelings for her down, they would always come back tenfold. He remembered the night he found her and Fred together and he filled with jealousy and regret. He wanted that to be him. Dumbledore had mentioned that a treasure was stolen from the champions to retrieve yesterday, and George couldn't think of a better way to describe Claire to him.

George felt Claire shift next to him and rest her head on his chest. He let out a breath and pulled her closer to him. He looked out the window and noticed that dawn was approaching. The peacefulness of the morning made him smile and he looked down at Claire, who made a soft groaning sound.

“Claire?” he said with his voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him.

“George? What happened?” she asked in a weak voice. George smiled widely and hugged her close to him.

“I'm so glad you're okay... You were petrified for the second task. They had you at the bottom of the Black Lake... He saved you, but the spell malfunctioned and you went into hypothermia...” George said and then released her from his embrace to look at her face.

“Oh... how did you get here, then..?” Claire asked.

“I um... I jumped in to help. You weren't moving, so I went in...” George admitted sheepishly.

Claire's expression changed to slightly shocked but thankful. “Wow... Thank you, George...”

“I couldn't just let you float there and have all the fun, you know,” George said with a smirk and wink.

Claire let out a weak laugh, then asked, “What time is it?”

George bit his lip and looked around for a clock. He craned his neck and looked at the large one above their heads, then read to her, “It's about a quarter after six in the morning. Breakfast should be appearing soon, you must be starving.”

Claire nodded. “Yeah...”

George nodded and tore himself from her. “I'll go get you something to eat and send Pomfrey here to make sure you're okay...”

Claire nodded and started to sit up. George didn't want to leave her, but he knew she couldn't make the walk on her own. He hurried to Madam Pomfrey's office to find her already wide awake and making notes.

“Um, Madam Pomfrey? Claire's awake.. I'm going to go get her something to eat,” George said. She nodded and smiled at him, then headed in Claire's direction.

George made his way to the Great Hall and was among the first of the students to arrive. He didn't think he'd ever been in the Hall that early, but he didn't mind if it was for Claire. He picked out a few pasties for her as well as some oatmeal and apple juice. He brought the plate carefully back to the infirmary where he saw that the numbers had disappeared from above Claire's bed and she was sitting up completely. She smiled weakly when she saw him and he hurried to place the tray before her.

“Did you get anything?” she asked him. George nodded and held up a breakfast sandwich full of egg, bacon, and cheese.

Claire smiled and started to nibble a few pasties and drink her juice. George found himself staring at her while he ate and found that the intensity of his feelings hadn't died down. Every move she made had him swirling with intense and deep care for her. He wasn't sure he hated it, either.

~*~

In the brief month between the second and third task, Claire noticed George being much more attentive to her. She wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid something would happen to her again, but she wasn't entirely mad at it either. At every opportunity, he would give her a small touch of his hand on hers or a hug to hold her close for a moment. It was nice, and no matter how hard she tried to forget her feelings for George, she couldn't. They plagued her day and night and knowing that he didn't feel the same made her feel even worse. Cho had told her to just enjoy the time she has with George and eventually she'd find someone else, and Claire tried, but it was challenging to say the least. Especially when her mind brought her back to the morning she woke up in his clothes (that he let her keep) and he was cuddled against her. She remembered the sleepy and worried look on his face as she opened her eyes and how warm and comfortable he felt against her. It was a beautiful memory and one that she cherished.

On the day of the third task, Claire's father came to support Cedric and the three of them were beneath the bleachers waiting for Dumbledore to lead them out and greet the crowd.

“Are you feeling okay?” Claire asked Cedric.

“Nervous, but ready. I'm just glad this one doesn't put you in any danger,” he said with a slightly apologetic look. Claire shook her head.

“It's alright, Cedric. What's important is that you focus so you can make it out of this tournament,” she told him and gently patted his back.

“And win! Win, my boy, I know you can!” their father boasted emphatically.  Cedric looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded.

Claire heard the fanfare begin and Dumbledore ushered the Diggorys to enter the arena. Claire and Cedric walked beside each other and Amos led them with a big wave to the crowd. He presented his son to them and reveled in their cheers. Claire smiled and followed Cedric to his spot at the entrance to the maze. Dumbledore began to speak and Amos held Cedric's arm high in the air (much to Cedric's embarrassment) when it was mentioned that Cedric held first place. Claire scanned the crowd and found Fred and George sat in the second row from the front with a space between them that she assumed was for her. She made eye contact with both of them and waved.

“Good luck, son,” Amos said with a proud smile and hugged Cedric.

“Good luck, Cedric! Be safe in there,” Claire advised. Cedric hugged her close and they separated as the cannon fired. Once Cedric entered the maze, he took off in a slightly quicker pace than walking and the trees closed around him so that he was out of sight. Claire and Amos headed back to the stands where he took his seat toward the back and Claire found Fred and George.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” she said to them.

“Of course! Wouldn't want to wait with anyone else,” Fred teased. George nodded in agreement.

The crowd clapped and cheered as Krum entered the maze next. A few minutes later, Fleur had entered. Claire took a deep breath and sighed. There was nothing to do now but wait. She vaguely heard her father boast about how Cedric would be coming out with cup in hand in relatively short order so nobody get too comfortable.

“Impressed with your brother, he is,” Fred said.

Claire hummed and nodded. “Always has been.”

“You're just as amazing as Cedric, you know. Probably even more,” George said and gripped Claire's hand that sat in her lap. She smiled at him and Fred who agreed. She didn't make a move to pull her hand away from George's and he didn't either. She enjoyed the feeling of his fingers twiddling and playing with hers as they waited well past dusk. The three were involved in a competitive game of eye spy before red sparks were seen in the sky high above the maze. Claire's attention was drawn to the rusting of the bushes and trees as the maze rolled Fleur out onto the ground. After a beat, she stood up and dusted herself off as a few girls from Beauxbatons helped her up. She looked rough and beaten down in her jumpsuit, and Claire hoped Cedric was faring a bit better.

“Wow... she looks rough,” Fred said. George nodded. Claire didn't realize it, but she was holding George's hand a little bit tighter now. She felt him place his other hand on hers in reassurance. About a half an hour later, Viktor Krum was ejected from the maze. He appeared to be unconscious, but alive, and woke up after about five minutes. Claire bit her lip and looked for any sign of Cedric. This meant that he and Harry were the only ones left, right? Either way Hogwarts won the tournament, but who exactly would earn the title was to be determined.

“They have to be getting close,” Fred concluded. Claire nodded.

It was quiet for a while, then suddenly a whooshing sound was heard and Harry appeared with the cup in hand. Fanfare played as the crowd stood and clapped, and Claire ran to greet her brother, but as she got closer she heard Harry's sobs and Cedric was unmoving.

Dumbledore was first to get to Harry, who refused to let go of Cedric. Claire pushed past the judges, needing to see her brother. She could hear Harry's sobs, but a ringing in her ears began as her face fell upon seeing Cedric up close. His face was expressionless and his eyes that once shone in happiness were void of light and life. Claire sunk to her knees next to Cedric and she felt a wave of shock stem from her chest and throughout her body. She placed a hand gently on his chest and her eyes welled up with tears. She was barely aware of her surroundings as time had seemed to stop. She wasn't sure what had happened, but she was pulled from her trance of grief by her father's howls and cries. She looked at him for comfort and did her best to console him, but he would have none of it. He was caught up in his despair just as she was.

Claire felt a gentle hand around her shoulder and she looked to see George with a sorrowful look on his face. His brown eyes were swimming with tears that threatened to fall and he knelt down with Claire. She leaned onto him and sobbed into his chest. She wasn't one for crying in public or letting her feelings be known always, but right now she was overwhelmed with grief and didn't care. George held her close and whispered his condolences and comforting words.

The following morning, an assembly was called for the entirety of the school. The candles were dim and black curtains hung from the ceiling of the Great Hall. The teachers and students sat on the benches that faced Dumbledore, who was sitting in his own solitary chair before them behind his podium. Claire and George sat near the front and George had noticed that Claire's eyes were puffy, bloodshot, and slightly sunken in. He wondered if she had slept at all last night. He looked over to Cho, who looked only slightly better, but not by much.

After everyone had settled into the uncomfortable and somber aura of the room, Dumbledore began to speak from his chair. “Today we acknowledge a really terrible loss,” he began. “Cedric Diggory was, as you all know, exceptionally hard working, infinitely fair mind, and most importantly a fierce, fierce friend. Now I think, therefore, you have a right to know exactly how he died.” He got up from his chair and stood at the podium where he rested his hands. He spoke louder, “You see, Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

Claire inhaled sharply at the mention of You-Know-Who's name. Until now, George had no idea how Cedric had died, and he was sure that Claire didn't either. He hadn't dared ask her if she knew and he didn't want to pry, but she seemed just as surprised as he was. George reached a comforting hand out to her and she gripped his fingers in hers as Dumbledore continued to speak.

“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, but not to do so I think would be an insult to his memory,” Dumbledore announced. Claire looked up and then over at Harry, who was sat not far from them. George saw Harry make eye contact with her and nodded apologetically. Their silent conversation went unnoticed for the most part and Dumbledore finished his speech emphasizing what Cedric valued most: friendship and family. George couldn't think of a time that Claire wasn't crying during the speech.

When the students were dismissed, Fred and George followed Claire in her pursuit of Harry. She found him walking with Ron and Hermione in a relatively empty corridor.

“Harry?” she asked in a small but strong voice.

He turned around and his face turned from relaxed to a mix of skepticism, sorrow, and discomfort. “You're Claire, right?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, I just... I have to tell you that I don't blame you and I wanted to thank you for bringing him back. You must have gone through really awful things, and I'm just... Thank you,” Claire said with a broken voice. Harry's face relaxed once more and he nodded, then stepped forward to speak.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” he said. Claire nodded in appreciation.

“Why don't you come stay with us for the summer?” Fred suggested. “For a little while anyway.”

“You mean it?” Claire asked through tears.

“Of course, darling. Don't want you to be alone and mum loves it when you visit,” George said.

Claire considered for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I will. Thanks, guys.”

George was overjoyed that she would be staying with them over the summer. It was their first summer that they could use magic at their leisure and they were developing all sorts of prank treats and sweets. George was counting down the days until Claire came to stay with them. She wanted to be with her parents for a couple weeks after Cedric's funeral, then she would come stay with the Weasleys. Fred was excited, too, George could tell. They both made sure that Claire would have enough room with them and placed a soft mattress between their beds for her. There was only a small gap between the mattresses, but they hoped she didn't mind.

“Everything ready? She'll be here any minute now,” George asked Fred, who was packing the basket for the picnic they were taking her on.

Fred nodded. “Yep. All packed. Blanket, waters, sandwiches, crisps, strawberries, champagne, sex toys, lube...”

“FRED!” George gasped. Fred laughed maniacally.

“Only kidding. But we do have butterbeer,” Fred said with a smile.

“Her favorite,” they said in unison.

Timed perfectly, there was a knock at the door. George felt nervous. He had seen her a month and a half ago and they had been friends for their whole lives, but something about Claire staying with them for an extended period of time made him nervous and excited.

Fred opened the door and there stood Claire with her trunk in hand and a small smile on her face.

“Hi boys,” she greeted. Fred and George rushed and hugged her tight to them. After everything she had been through, George wanted to welcome her in the happiest way he could. He knew Fred felt the same and they both squeezed her for a moment, then let her go.

“Safe travels?” Fred asked. “Allow me to take your trunk.”

“Yeah, apparating is pretty intense, but I got the hang of it I think. I've still got all of me, right?” Claire asked and let Fred set her trunk inside.

“Hmm, now that you mention it, you are missing something,” George smirked at her. Claire's face fell in confusion. Both George and Fred leaned in and kissed either side of her face quickly, which sent her lips upward. George felt butterflies at the contact, but made it seem as platonic as possible.

“Thank you,” she said with a smile. “You cut your hair.”

George blushed. “Yeah, do you like it?”

Claire smiled and nodded. “You look very handsome.”

They helped her get settled into their room and she greeted the entire family including Hermione, who was visiting.

“Now I'm sure the boys told you that we're going to Grimmauld Place tomorrow, yes?” Molly said casually.

Fred and George looked at each other in panic, then back at Claire and Molly.

“Oh, yeah. I don't mind as long as you guys don't,” she said without skipping a beat.

“We're always happy to have you, dear,” Molly said with a smile and patted Claire's cheek. As she walked away, Claire looked at the twins with an accusatory and baffled expression.

“We forgot to tell you,” Fred said.

“But we do have a surprise for you. Are you hungry?” George asked trying to lighten the mood and maybe make up for their mistake.

Claire smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Excellent!” George said and directed her to follow them into the back yard, and then out onto a small meadow by the lake.

“It's beautiful here,” Claire commented.

George smiled. “I'm glad you like it. Now, surprise! We made you a picnic!”

Fred and George magically set up the blanket and food with a wave of their wands and the three of them sat down. George handed Claire a butterbeer and her eyes lit up.

“My favorite!” she said, excited. She opened the bottle and started to drink it with a soft smile on her face. “Thank you guys...”

They enjoyed the sunshine and their meal and George was anxious to ask her how she was doing and how her parents were, but decided against the notion until she brought it up. He did his best to try and cheer her up at any sign of sadness and made her laugh as best he could. Soon enough, the time came for them to go to bed as they had to be up relatively early in the morning to travel to the Black residence.

“I usually go for a stroll before bed, so...” Claire said hesitantly.

“I'll go with you, no worries,” George volunteered immediately. George saw Fred smiling out of the corner of his eye. Claire's face softened and she smiled appreciatively.

“Thank you... I found it helps with... well,” Claire said and shrugged. George didn't press her and nodded in understanding. They walked out of the house and George led her to the pathway around the lake that they had. They walked in comfortable silence for a while before Claire spoke up.

“Thank you for having me this summer. It's not been easy at home,” she said. His heart fell hearing this. George nodded and gave her a gentle look to hide his growing concern.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked her.

“It's just... Dad never really paid much attention to me, and now that Ced's gone... It's silly, I just feel sometimes like I'm unwanted and like I'm not cared about,” Claire confessed as they walked. George's heart nearly broke hearing that.

“Well I care very deeply for you,” George said without thinking. He didn't make any attempt to clarify what he had meant and decided to let Claire interpret it how she needed to. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing one of his siblings, so he needed to be extra gentle with her. Claire looked up at him with wide and glassy eyes.

“I care about you too, George. You're my best friend,” she said. George's panic subsided and was replaced with a the icy sting of rejection. She didn't mean it, of course, it's very easy to misinterpret caring about someone, and that's exactly what Claire had done. George wanted to correct her and confess everything he'd been feeling, but after careful consideration, he decided against it. After all... how could she feel the same?

~*~

The arrival at Hogwarts for her seventh year made Claire extremely uncomfortable. The last time she had been at the school, everyone was giving her looks of pity and it made her feel unpleasant to say the least.

“It's alright, we're here with you,” George said with an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, we'll even pose as Ravenclaws. Dye our hair brown and be the Yelsaw twins,” Fred said with a laugh.

Claire laughed and shook her head. “No, it's okay. Thank you, though.” She made her way with the twins to the Great Hall and sat next to Cho, who looked happy to see her. They had only shared a few letters over the summer, and the last time they were face to face was at Cedric's funeral.

“Hi, Cho, how are you?” Claire asked. Cho opened her arms for a hug and Claire accepted with a smile.

“I'm okay. Hard being here, but we'll manage. Good summer otherwise. You?” she said with a sigh.

“As good as it could have been,” Claire said. “Spent the last half with Fred and George and you know how they are: always making jokes, so...”

“Are you and George...?” Cho asked expectantly with a sly and slightly suggestive smile.

Claire shook her head. “Just friends...”

Cho nodded and then turned to watch the sorting ceremony. Claire thought about George (as she often did) and her heart sank. Over the summer they had both been alone several times and Claire wanted to scream at him how much she felt for him, but she held back when she remembered Cho's advice that she'd find someone different after George's rejection of her. She and the twins shared almost all of their classes, so at least she wasn't alone the whole time. That became especially helpful when Defense Against the Dark Arts came about and Umbridge started talking about Cedric.

“Now children, it has come to my attention that the rumor floating about the school is that a certain defeated dark wizard is once again lurking in the shadows and is responsible for the tragic death of Miss Diggory's brother. This is a severely misguided lie,” she said in a sickeningly sweet and high-pitched voice. Claire's blood boiled. She knew the truth—Harry's eyes were enough to tell her the horrors he had seen that night and his regret for Cedric's death.

“How do you suppose my brother died, then? If you have answers, I'd love to hear them,” Claire said holding back tears.

“Claire, no,” Fred whispered. Umbridge took a deep breath and ignored her question, then went about sending the books to each student's desk. Claire scoffed and shook her head.

“This is bullshit,” the three of them whispered in unison. Claire stifled a laugh under her breath.

By the day of the first Quidditch match was upon them, Umbridge had already sunk her stupid heels into the curriculum. It was annoying and boring to learn defense against the dark arts this year, but Claire had always enjoyed seeing Fred and George play quidditch, so she looked forward to this afternoon. She went to every one of their practices and matches and cheered for them even if they were playing against Ravenclaw. This match was against Slytherin and it was an especially complex game. In the end, Harry caught the snitch after a face-off with Draco. Claire ran down to congratulate the twins as she always did along with other close friends and significant others of the team and she found them both sweaty and joyful.

“Congratulations!” she cheered and hugged Fred first.

“Thank you, petal,” Fred said and wrapped an arm around her briefly.

“Our little good luck charm you are,” George said and hugged her for slightly longer with both arms secured around her waist. The mood was quickly soured by Draco Malfoy's derogatory words that Claire could hear from a few feet away.

“Although you probably don't remember what your mum's house smelled like so even the Weasley's hovel—” Draco began, but was interrupted by a few Quidditch team members holding Fred back from wailing on Draco. George started to charge the blonde and Claire could only hold him back so much. George angry was not something Claire saw often, but when she did it was never a pretty sight. Claire and Harry did their best to hold George back, but as Draco continued to insult him, George became impossible to contain and Harry was even persuaded into beating the Slytherin seeker to a bloody pulp. Draco didn't fight back much—coward, Claire thought—but managed to get a few good hits in, mostly on George, who was much more aggressive than Harry was.

“Fuck you, Draco! You and your whole bigoted family can kiss my ass and die in a hellfire,” George roared. “Keep my family's name out of your shit mouth, asshole!”

“Impedimento!” Claire heard Madam Hooch bellow above the bone-crunching punches and kicks Harry and George delivered onto Draco.

George and Harry flew backward and Claire came to their side. George's lip was swollen and bleeding and Claire could tell a bruise to his jaw and eye were forming. He stood up from the blast with his jaw clenched and Fred managed to get away from Angelina's hold to stand next to Claire.

“All of you to your Head of House's offices! NOW!” Hooch ordered sternly.

Claire waited patiently outside McGonagall's office with Fred for Harry and George to emerge. Claire was worried about George's head injuries more than anything. He had detention before, many times. After a few more minutes, the door opened and out came George and Harry looking dissatisfied, but calmer.

“Well?” Fred asked.

“Detention tomorrow night with her,” Harry mumbled. “Both of us.”

“Well it's better than expulsion,” Claire said. George nodded and looked up to display a growing purple bruise around his left eye. She reached her hand up and gently placed her fingers on his jaw. He leaned into her touch slightly and his face softened.

“Yeah, it just sucks that Malfoy's probably getting off with nothing when he's been spewing this shit for ages,” George said.  Claire nodded.

The first few months of the year were tough, but Fred and George made life a bit more bearable for Claire. She was often the test subject for flavors of sweets as she refused to be made ill and George told her he wouldn't allow it anyway. He'd become very protective of her, and Claire would be lying if she said it didn't make her feel special. When word got to Claire about a meeting to discuss a real Defense Against the Dark Arts class, she let Cho in on the secret.

“Thursday at The Hog's Head. Three o'clock. Don't tell anyone you don't trust,” Claire said to her. Cho smiled and nodded with excitement.

That Thursday, Fred, George, and Claire headed to The Hog's Head on a cold day. She quickly realized why this was the meeting place: it was cold and damp and completely empty. The room soon filled with students from all four houses, but mostly Gryffindors were entering the bare pub. Once the clock showed five past three, Hermione stood up to speak.

“Harry could tell us more about how Diggory got killed,” a Gryffindor boy said from next to where Ginny sat. Claire could sense George's frustration and he gripped her hand nd was ready to stand up to confront the boy when Harry stood instead.

“I'm not going to talk about Cedric, so if that's why you're here, you might as well clear out now,” Harry said insistently with a small look toward Claire.

“Is it true you can produce a Patronus Charm?” Claire asked loud enough for the room to hear, remembering a rumor she had heard in her fifth year. She wanted the subject off of her dead brother, but also wanted tot ell Harry that she believed in him and wanted to learn from him, not just reminisce about what was probably a highly traumatic night for him—Claire knew it was for her at least.

Ron sent her a small smile and George's hand squeezed hers gently.

“Yes,” Hermione spoke up. “I've seen it.”

“Blimey, Harry! I didn't know you could do that,” Dean Thomas spoke up from the other side of the room. Neville then spoke about the Basilisk Harry slayed in his second year to save Ginny, and Ron chimed in saying Harry fended off hundreds of Dementors. Hermione closed out the discussion with another confirmation that Harry fought Voldemort in the flesh, which sent a jolt through Claire. She could only imagine how Cedric must have been feeling. She never asked Harry what his last words were or what exactly happened, and she probably never would. She must have spaced out during Harry's speech because she was soon pulled from her seat with the help of George's hand and stood in a line to sign up to be a part of what Harry was affectionately calling Dumbledore's Army. Claire didn't understand why Harry looked up to Dumbledore so much. He was a great wizard, sure... but his manipulative behavior toward Harry made her question the Headmaster's motives.

“Over the next few days, we should each try to find a place to practice, alright?” Harry said to the small group that had stayed with Harry.

“On it. See you later, Harry!” Fred said as he, George, and Claire went to test more product.

“Hey, Claire...” Harry called after her. Claire was surprised and looked at him.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Can I have a word with you..?” he asked. Claire felt George and Fred inch closer to her. Harry paid them no mind, though.

“Um, sure. Is everything okay?” she asked him. He swallowed hard.

“I-I know I said I wasn't going to talk about Cedric, but if you ever do... I think you'd be the only person I'll talk about it with. You've got a right to know what happened to your brother,” Harry said with a look of sincerity.

Claire was touched by the notion and opportunity that Harry extended to her. She nodded at him and smiled faintly. “Whenever you're okay telling me, of course I want to know.”

Harry looked slightly relieved and then his face turned more serious. “He was braver than I could have ever been. He was ready to fight, but never got the chance... Voldemort was quick, I don't even think Cedric knew what was happening. And when our wands—mine and Voldemort's—connected, Cedric asked me to bring his body back to you, specifically. He said 'take my body back to Claire and tell her I love her'.”

Claire felt her tears begin again and she heard the sorrow in Harry's voice. She put and hand on his shoulder and nodded. “Thank you, Harry.”

~*~

George was awoken in a start by Professor McGonagall. He was dreaming peacefully about an afternoon over the summer he had with Claire and was very displeased to be woken up. He knew something must have been terribly wrong, however.

“George, Fred, wake up. Your father's been attacked. You and your siblings will be going to St. Mungo's by portkey,” she instructed. George's adrenaline rushed through him and he and Fred shared a frantic look. They grabbed their robes and hurried with McGonagall towards Gryffindor commonrrom where Ginny was waiting anxiously.

“What about Claire? She's just as much his child as we are,” Fred said as they headed down the stairs out of the boy's dormitory.

“I took the liberty of having Professor Flitwick alert Miss Diggory. She will be joining you in the Headmaster's office,” McGonagall said.

“Thank goodness,” Ginny sighed and the four of them hurried along the corridors. Fred and George shared a worried look as they entered the extravagant office. George noticed Harry and Ginny share a small look and as much as George wanted to smirk, he was preoccupied with worrying about his dad and looking for Claire's face. He found it sat in a large armchair across the room. She and Ron were already in the office and appeared to be listening to Dumbledore, who appeared to have just been speaking to them. George didn't think he'll ever get used to how Claire looked after just sleeping. He remembered the first night she spent at the Burrow and how soft she looked under the covers in the bed next to his. He probably spent a solid five minutes just looking at her before he pulled himself away to get ready. It was a stark contrast to the last time he had seen her wake up after she had been frozen nearly to death. Even after waking up, she had looked exhausted. Today she looked worried, but still held a slight tender restfulness about her that made his stomach flip.

“Good, you're all here. This way,” Dumbledore said. He ushered them all to gather around an old and tattered top hat. George stood next to Claire, whose eyes still appeared puffy from sleep and she wore George's old quidditch sweatshirt that he had allowed her to keep. He smiled to himself and they all took a hand on the portkey. After a bit of dizzying travel, they landed in front of St. Mungo's hospital. They were greeted by a nurse with her hair pulled up in a tight and neat bun.

“You must be the Weasleys. Your mother is already inside. Follow me,” she said in a sweet but stern voice. They followed her into the building and up several floors, then turned toward one that said “Intensive Care” and George's stomach dropped. His dad must have been hurt badly to need intensive care... He felt Claire's hand grip his and he looked to her as they walked. She offered a reassuring smile and he was grateful for the contact.

“My babies,” George's mum gushed as they all entered the empty waiting room. She gave each of them a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“How's dad?” Fred asked.

She shrugged with a teary expression. “No news yet, but he'll be glad you're all here.”

“What happened?” Claire asked. George slipped his hand back into hers, which she accepted and gripped onto him gently.

“A snake, they think...” Molly responded.

Ron looked slightly uncomfortable and spoke up once the nurse had left, “Harry had a dream... It was You-Know-Who's snake... Sounded brutal,” Ron said.

George's grip tightened on Claire and she stepped closer to him. The group fell silent and Molly nodded, then took a seat.

“Do you need anything, mum? Water, food?” Fred asked.

“I'm fine, dear... Good thing Harry thought to tell someone,” she said. George and Claire took a seat across from her with their hands still joined. Fred sat on the other side of Claire, who offered her hand to him and he took it with a small smile. George felt a twinge of jealously, but noted that Claire's holing of his hand was different than how she held Fred's. He felt a bit better when he noticed that Claire's fingers were locked with George's but not with Fred's. He thought the gesture more intimate with him, but still wanted to pull Fred's touch away.

It was probably close to an hour before they were allowed to see Arthur. They filed in one by one and saw him heavily bandaged and looking worse for wear. George's heart beat faster and he was grateful to Harry for alerting to possible danger. He was sure Harry may have felt silly being worried over a dream, but he was grateful.

“How are you feeling, dad?” Ginny asked with a soft voice. George, Claire and Fred stood off to the side with hands still joined.

“Much better now... the doctor said that there wasn't any venom, so that's good,” Arthur said.

“Just big teeth, then,” Fred mused. Arthur smiled and nodded at his son.

“I'm glad you're all here,” he said and smiled. “I'm alright, though. Don't want you guys away from Hogwarts for too long.”

George nodded and they each took turns giving Arthur a hug. He watched Claire give his dad a tender embrace and he saw Arthur whisper something to her. She nodded and all but Molly left the room. George felt the rest of the night go by in a blur. He was utterly exhausted the following morning and he noticed that Fred, Claire, Ron, Harry, and Ginny seemed to be equally as tired. This was only the beginning, though, and the danger of what they were going to have to face loomed above them all. George couldn't help but become even more protective of Claire after that. The threat of someone he loves being torn from him was mounting and he practiced hard in each DA meeting to do his best to prevent that from happening.

~*~

The next time George saw his father, it was Christmas Day. He, his siblings, Harry, Hermione, and Claire had all gathered at Grimmauld Place for the holiday along with the other Order members. Arthur looked better, but still horribly bruised and still had a few staples on various cuts. After dinner, George overheard a discussion Harry and Remus were having by the fireplace, about Snape's involvement in the Order. George tended to agree with Harry, but decided to not get involved, but instead give Claire her Christmas present. He wanted to give it to her when they were alone, just the two of them, because what he had chosen for her was extremely sentimental. He knew her year had been harder than most and it killed him to watch her face the picture of Cedric every day in the Room of Requirement's mirror. He hadn't even told Fred about his plan to give her such a heartfelt present, which was rare.

“Claire?” George said as he approached her. She was sat in a small alcove in the windowsill on the landing between the first and second floors. There was no one else in sight, and George seized the opportunity.

Claire looked up from her book and smiled. “Hi, George.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked. Claire smiled and shook her head, then beckoned him to sit next to her. The sill was spacious enough for both of them, so he sat down next to her and pulled out a small red wrapped box.

“What might that be?” she asked him.

George's cheeks heated up. “It's a present. Your present. From me.”

Claire looked at him in awe and slight shock. “You already got me something, Georgie...” she said gesturing to the book she was reading.

George nodded, but handed the package to her anyway. “I know, I know... That was from both me and Fred... This one's from just me, though.”

“You didn't have to do that, George. That's so sweet,” she said and began to unwrap the paper.

“Nonsense. I wanted to, dove,” he said in a soft voice. Inside the wrapping was a small box and George's heart quickened as she got closer to revealing what he had gotten for her. She flipped open the box and her mouth dropped open. She looked up at George in shock.

“George, this is... this is too much,” she said and shook her head. George smiled knowing that she would say that. He shook his head.

“Open it,” he said. She looked at him quizzically and then pulled out the small heart-shaped silver pendant. The design was simple and delicate with a small diamond in the center, and the locket opened up to reveal a picture of the two of them. It was a picture Fred had insisted on taking during their picnic over the summer, and George was glad he did.

Claire's eyes welled up at seeing the two of them laugh up at the camera inside the locket. She looked up at George as she held it in her hands. George gestured for her to hand him the locket and she gingerly passed it to him. She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side to allow him to see better, then he gently placed the necklace around her neck and clasped it in the back. Once he rested it back against her skin, she turned to him with a grateful expression. Their faces were much closer now, and neither of them made a move away.

“Do you like it?” he asked lowly.

“I'll never take it off... I feel bad, I don't have anything to give you...” she said.

George chuckled and shook his head. “You give me everything.”

Claire's face softened and dropped in slight shock when she realized what George possibly meant when he said that. George's cheeks turned pink and hot. His heart was pounding with their unspoken words and they got closer, both feeling the undeniable pull toward each other. George gently placed a hand on her cheek and smoothed the skin with his thumb. His gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips that he desperately wanted to feel on his. He felt Claire start to lean in slowly and he copied her speed not wanting to push too much. He could feel his heart beating in his ears as his eyes fluttered shut and his lips landed on Claire's gently. George's heart soared and he felt like fireworks had been set aflame in his chest. George's hand reached up and he held her cheek gingerly as their lips moved together. Her lips molded against his perfectly and in that action George knew that they were made for each other. Their kiss was short and left George wanting more, but he hadn't expressed his feelings for her precisely so he couldn't be sure she felt the same. After all, she had kissed Fred before. Claire's face looked flustered and she looked like she was maybe about to apologize, but George never wanted her to apologize for kissing him.

“There you two are! Dessert is just about ready, and Mum's got crackers for all of us!” Ron said from the bottom of the stairs just as George was going to tell Claire exactly how he felt without the need for her to infer: an action he had been craving for an excessively long time. George let out a short breath of mild irritation.

“You absolute moron,” Fred scolded their younger brother from behind him as the pair of them walked toward the kitchen. Claire laughed nervously and pulled away from George while tucking a stubborn piece of hair behind her ear. George mimicked her laughter and internally cursed Ron for ruining their moment. After trying a few more times to move the strand of hair, George reached his hand out and moved it for her gently.

Claire looked at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

George smiled and then heard the crack of the toys and cheers from the kitchen. He licked his lips and smiled at her apologetically.

“We should head in,” Claire said and started to get up.

“Yeah... yeah, we should,” George said and stood up with her.

~*~

“Fantastic, Ginny!” Harry applauded as the room erupted in various enchantments. Ginny had made a full-bodied patronus in the shape of a horse. It pranced around her protectively. Claire watched in awe and then thought of the happiest memory she could think of. She remembered going to a muggle theme park in her youth and did exactly as Harry instructed.

“Expecto patronum!” Claire said and out from her wand flew silver ribbons, but no patronus.

“The happiest memory you can think of. It has to be the happiest because just happy won't be enough,” Harry instructed. “You can even make it up, if it evokes a strong enough feeling, it will work.”

Claire nodded and she took a deep breath. She glanced across the way to see Fred and George grinning happily with their identical bird patronuses. Claire became acutely aware of the metal locket that had been around her neck since Christmas. She thought about that day and how she and George had kissed and didn't let any doubts stop her. She remembered how she felt opening the locket and seeing the image of her and George smiling and laughing with his arm around her, and the feeling of his lips on hers. They hadn't spoken of the kiss since it happened, and it almost felt like a dream, but she didn't care. Even if George meant the kiss in a totally platonic way, it was a memory that Claire cherished.

“Expecto patronum,” she said. In almost an instant, a silver dolphin shot out of her wand and swam around her in happiness. She smiled at it and it danced in the air above her.

“Incredible, Claire!” she heard George say as he approached her. The dolphin dissipated and George lifted her up around her waist and spun her slightly.

Claire laughed and hugged him back, “George, put me down!”

Their laughter was broken by a loud thumping from the entrance to the Room of Requirement. The room fell silent and the patronuses disappeared. Another thump and the room shook. Nigel, a small Gryffindor, went to investigate. Harry quickly pulled him away, and then the wall exploded inward. The group scattered across the room and Claire felt George pull her to the wall and cover her with his body. Once the dust settled, in marched Umbridge followed by a few Slytherins wearing Inquisitor Squad badges.

“You could have killed someone, are you joking?!” Claire yelled at the teacher, whose face was almost as pink as her blouse.

“Detention! All of you! Tomorrow evening from five to seven in the Great Hall! Potter, I knew you were behind this, come with me now!” she shrieked through the room.

The room emptied quickly and Claire, Fred, and George all headed toward the corridors leading to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tower. Claire was enraged. She wanted to hex Umbridge with any number of spells that she'd learned and kick her a fw times for good measure.

“It's just detention, Claire. Fred and I have had it loads of times, it's no big deal,” George said in a calming manner. Claire sensed that he could feel her rage welling up.

“It's not just detention, George! She's ruining the school! She and her bureaucratic bimbos at the ministry have to stick their noses in everything and deny the truth! It's infuriating! They aren't helping, they're actively hurting people this way and they're too proud to admit it! Cedric died for NOTHING! And the worst part is that dad doesn't even care about me. Every letter is all about how honorable and fantastic Cedric was an how much he misses him,” Claire screamed at him, then sunk to her knees in tears. “He didn't even notice I wasn't there for Christmas.”

“Oh, Claire...” George said in a small voice.

She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so helpless, and it had been a long time since she'd had a good cry. Fred and George sat down with her on either side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into one of them and felt the other move with her. She looked up and saw George's kind eyes and concerned expression and his arms were holding her close.

“He didn't die for nothing, love. Harry's alive, and the Order's eventually going to put their faith in him. He'll be avenged, my dear. I know it hurts now, but... It'll be okay,” he said.

“Yeah, and in the meantime we're here. And we care about you a great deal. Hell, you're practically the Weasley triplet! I know this past year's been so hard on you, but don't ever think that Cedric's death was inconsequential or that you aren't loved,” Fred added. After a moment, Claire's tears stopped and she nodded.

“Thanks, guys,” she said. She felt them both give her a kiss on each cheek briefly, but her focus was on George's lips and the tingling sensation his kiss had left.

~*~

The following day, Fred, George, Claire, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army met in the Great Hall at exactly five o'clock. Word had gotten out that Umbridge would be taking over the school as of today because Dumbledore was being investigated. George feared the worst for the school now that she was going to be in charge of it.

“You will all write lines. Exactly what is on the board. 'I shall not disobey.' Begin,” Umbridge instructed in a disgustingly chipper voice. George picked up the provided quill and rolled his eyes as he began writing. It wasn't until he was about four lines in that his hand started to sting. He looked to see what was causing the pain and his eyes went wide. There, in his own handwriting, were the words 'I shall not disobey' carved into his skin. He looked over to Claire and saw her rub her hand in pain and George filled with anger. He was going to get Umbridge for this. Thoughts ranged from puking pastilles to stabbings as the two hours wore on. By the end of it, he figured out an incredible plan. Not only would he be getting back at her, he would be leaving Hogwarts. He and Fred were ready to start their business in Diagon Alley, so there wasn't anything keeping them there. His hand was nearly numb at the end of the two hours. The students stood up and not a word was said amongst them as they exited the Hall. George waited for Fred and they walked out together and met Claire outside the hall, who looked like she was about to burst.

“Let me see, darling,” George asked and Claire held out her bloodied hand to him. George inspected it and his heart swelled. “Come on, let's clean us all up.”

They all went into the abandoned bathroom that Myrtle haunted and washed their hands. The three of them were just about the only ones that used the bathroom, and George briefly wondered how Myrtle would feel about having the bathroom entirely to herself again.

“I've got a plan,” George said with a smile.

“A plan?” Claire asked as she dried her hand and held pressure on the wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.

Fred looked at his brother. “For what?”

“We're getting out of here, and we're getting revenge at the same time,” George said. “Think about it: we're all done here. Nothing is keeping us. Fred, we've already got the shop picked out, we just have to set it up. And Claire, your magical creature knowledge will be a huge asset for the puffs. Come on, think about it,” George pleaded. Claire and Fred shared a look, then looked back at George.

“Well, I'm in,” Fred said.

“I never thought about what I'd do after Hogwarts. May as well jump in with you two,” Claire joked and George was overjoyed.

~*~

“You're staying here, I'm not having it,” George said to Claire.

“No, I'm going and you can deal,” she argued back.

“I need you here, okay?” he said.

“Why? What good am I here?” Claire protested. They've had this conversation before, but tonight was the real deal. They were moving Harry tonight and George agreed to take polyjuice potion and impersonate Harry for the flight from the Dursley's house to the Burrow. Claire wanted to go as well to help the team out, but George would absolutely not let her. It was too dangerous and he couldn't risk losing her.

“You're SAFE here, that's what matters,” George said and gripped her shoulders and peered into her eyes. He looked into her eyes and saw unwavering determination. “I need you safe, okay? I can't keep you safe when you're flying in the sky.”

Claire looked at him and they made eye contact for a long moment. George's frantic expression and desperate tone in his voice were accented by his hand softly resting on the side of Claire's face with his thumb resting on her jaw.

“George, I'm going. I need you safe, too,” Claire decided. George shook his head in frustration.

“PLEASE stay here... For my sanity, please,” George begged.

“My own sanity is at stake if I don't go with you. I can help,” she said and followed George downstairs where the rest of the moving party was.  

“George, let's go,” Bill's voice said. “You'll both be fine, and we could use the extra hands.”

Claire smirked, satisfied with her victory and George looked downright angry with his brother.  They mounted their brooms and sped off. Just as George was about to turn away, she gently held his face and planted a deep kiss to his cheek, just beside the corner of his lips. George looked back at her with a dazed expression that still held a bit of frustration, but he ceded and mounted his broom with Lupin nonetheless.

The sky battle was chaos. Curses, counters, jinxes, and stuns were flying everywhere. Claire did her best to stay above the group to fend off attackers from above, but she was soon forced into the thick of it. She lost count of how many flashes of green and red she dodged, and made sure that she defended herself. She sent a few Death Eaters plummeting from the sky, but didn't have time to deal with her emotional repercussions; it was a battle after all.

“Apparate!” she heard Lupin scream. The Death Eaters' actions became erratic and without another word, she apparated back to the Burrow. She appeared to have been the first to arrive and rushed inside to make sure.

“Ginny!” she said as she entered and saw the younger girl sitting on the long and expansive couch they had.

She smiled when she saw Claire and ran to hug her. Claire was surprised, but hugged her back.  

A few minutes later, a loud crash and splash was heard from outside. Ginny sprinted to the door and flung it open. Claire followed closely behind her as they raced out the door to see who had arrived.

“Harry!” Ginny said with a sigh of relief. She and Harry met partway to the Burrow's door and shared a few words that Claire didn't hear. She was searching the skies for any sign of Fred and George. She let Hagrid and Molly pass her and head into the house when a loud pop was heard from a few feet away from Harry and Ginny.

Lupin had just arrived and he was helping someone to walk. As the polyjuice potion wore off and they grew closer, Claire saw George's nearly unconscious face with blood dripping from the left side of his head. Her adrenaline kicked in and she made way for George to be placed on the couch Ginny had been occupying. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed any sort of bandage material she could then rushed back out to see George sprawled out on the couch. His legs dangled limply on the cushions with one partly off and touching the floor. His left side was up and his ear appeared to be hemorrhaging blood. Claire did her best to quiet the panic that was growing in her and rushed to his side next to Fred.

“Saint-like... I'm holy. Get it, Fred?” George said weakly.

“Of all the ear-related humor in the world and you go with 'I'm holy'... Pathetic,” Fred joked.

“Reckon I'm still better looking than you,” George teased. Claire knelt down next to Fred, who looked happy to see her, and started cleaning George's ear.

“Claire...” George said breathlessly. He gently placed a hand on her cheek as she cleaned the fresh and dried blood from his ear with a relieved smile. Once she was sure the ear had stopped bleeding actively, she cleaned the dried and darkened blood from his hand gently.

“Mad-Eye's dead,” Bill said as he entered the room. George's face fell and Claire bit back tears and focused on George's bandages. She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but suddenly she was the only one in the room with George as she bandaged his ear. She noticed his expression become sadder the longer she worked.

“You okay?” she asked him warily.

He looked at her with an unreadable expression. “I'm alive.”

Claire let out a breath and nodded, then finished his bandage in silence. She could feel his eyes on her, but she couldn't meet them or she'd start to cry. She removed her hands from his face, and George examined her features with furrowed brows and his gaze landed on a spot above her eyes. He lifted his hand and gently touched the spot his eyes had found. Claire winced when she felt a sharp stinging and burning sensation. George immediately withdrew his hand and shook his head.

“I knew you shouldn't have come. Why didn't you stay here?!” he said appearing to be enraged.

“Do you know how many spells I deflected up there so that Ron and Hermione wouldn't be hit by them?! That's why,” Claire shot back. “Why are you so angry?”

“I'm not angry, I'm frustrated,” George grumbled. “I lost an ear tonight, and Moody, the finest auror of the age, died. Do you know how easily that could have been you?!”

“Of course I do! I'm lucky it wasn't and I'm glad you only lost an ear rather than your life,” Claire responded with tears in her eyes and finally met his. “You didn't answer me, though: why are you frustrated?”

“Because you didn't stay safe! Because I couldn't keep you from coming on this venture, which doesn't bode well for the next one and I need you to stay safe. It's maddening how worried I was for you up there, Claire!” George said.

“Why does that matter?! You went!” Claire retorted and gestured to him briefly.

“Because I'm in love with you! I know you don't feel that way about me, but that's why I need you safe and out of harm's way, okay?! I'm ridiculously and hopelessly in love with you!” George confessed as he advanced toward her and gripped her shoulders with their eyes locked together.

Claire was silent for a moment as she took in George's confession. George's face looked on the verge of tears and he went to walk out of the room. Claire quickly reached out and gripped his hand to keep him from leaving and he looked down at her with a pained expression.

“You're everything to me,” she whispered. George's eyes met hers and the distance between them was quickly closed when Claire leaned up and kissed him feverishly. She felt this kiss much different from the last that they'd shared in that their lips were completely merged together as George's hand snaked around her waist. His other hand landed on her jaw, then moved to cup the back of her head and he pressed further into her. Claire felt slightly dizzy, so she broke away from George's mouth to catch her breath. He remained close to her and their foreheads rested against each other.

“We never did talk about that last time,” George said with a grin.

“I suppose we probably should now that it's happened twice,” Claire suggested.

“It's simple: I love you. I did then, and I do now,” George said after a deep breath.

Claire's heart jumped and she smiled with red hot cheeks. She could barely speak, but managed to whisper out, “I love you.”

George's jaw clenched and unclenched, then his face softened into a smile. He leaned in once more and their lips melted together gently but purposefully. Claire pressed herself against George and he pulled her close so there was nearly no space between them. Claire's heart swelled in her chest and she let go of any inhibition about her feelings for George. All this time, he had felt the same for her and her biggest fear was that he didn't. George's lips parted slightly and Claire felt the wetness of his tongue graze her lips to beg for more. She obliged and as their kiss deepened, George's grip on her became impossibly close and strong.

“Will you have me? Tonight, and always?” he asked in a breathless whisper when they finally broke their lips apart. “I have to know before we...”

“Yes,” was all Claire could say. She felt like she was flying in the best way possible as they let their passions act for them. She had only seen George shirtless a few times, mostly in the summer when they went swimming and once when he had just woken up and they crossed paths in the hallway at Grimmauld Place, but Claire's stomach knotted and she felt herself biting her lip and burning to touch his bare chest. He smiled and placed her hand over his chest and she felt his quick and strong heartbeat.

George made quick work of undressing them both, but still took the time to admire Claire. She felt vulnerable under his gaze, but once his lips were on her, the anxiety was replaced with security and bliss. He kissed all down her chest, and left a few red and purple spots on her stomach and breasts. His hands moved over her skin with grace and tenderness as though if he squeezed too hard she'd shatter below him. Claire's lips found his once again and she went to gently press him down against the couch, but George switched their position and her back was against the cushions.

“George, you're hurt...” Claire protested. George shook his head.

“I don't care,” he said and kissed her neck and nipped at her earlobe playfully. Claire uncontrollably let out a small whine and gripped onto George with her nails in his back.

“Oh...” he moaned from his throat and gently sunk his teeth into her shoulder. A shock went through Claire and she repeated her action. George let out a sound Claire had only heard from animals and he looked at her with a mischievous smile and a dark look in his eye with lust-blown pupils.

“My love, you're heading down a dangerous path,” he warned and leaned down to smirk against her ear. Claire smiled and shrugged.

“Maybe I want to,” she said into his. She felt him smile against her and he spread her legs and seated himself between them. Claire bit her lip and George slid himself into her after a nod from both of them.  Claire felt him stretch her out and her head fell back in pleasure.

“George,” she gasped with a dry throat. She felt him completely sheath himself within her and he let out short pants as they settled for a moment.

“Fuck,” George swore under his breath and began to pulse himself in and out of her. Claire's hands found George's neck and she pulled him down to meet her mouth with his. Their kiss was rough and passionate and Claire met his thrusts with her own. Her fingers snaked along his neck and knotted in his short hair. Instinctively, she gripped hard and tugged. George's reaction was one she hadn't expected. He moaned out into her mouth and copied her actions and grabbed a fistful of Claire's hair. With a sharp tug, Claire's neck was exposed to him completely and her back was arched, which sent her body mostly limp with pleasure. She moaned out and she could feel George smirk against the skin of her chest.

“I tried to warn you, darling,” he said. Claire couldn't speak as George's tongue laved over the skin of her breasts, then down her stomach. He slipped out of her, which caused Claire to whine in protest, but his lips then found their spot between her legs. Claire looked down at him and did her best to keep her thigh from hitting his fresh wound. George hungrily dove into her and Claire could feel herself starting to come undone. His tongue danced over her clitoris expertly as if this were the thousandth time he'd done this on her.

“George, please don't stop,” Claire begged. George continued and soon Claire's vision went blurry and her release took over her. She shook and moaned his name as if her life depended on it. George's lips left her for a moment and was replaced with vigorous thrusting in and out of her. He leaned his chest against hers and kissed her. She could taste herself on him for a moment, but his lips then moved to whisper praises and calls of her name. Suddenly, he pulled out of her and his seed spilled into his shirt that he had grabbed.

George helped Claire get dressed and they walked hand-in-hand up to Fred and George's room in the Burrow. They hadn't stayed there since Christmas with all three of them sharing a flat above the shop, but it was nice to spend time in a familiar setting. Claire noticed Fred fast asleep in his bed and while all three mattresses were nearly touching, George must not have thought Claire's bed was close enough. In a swift move, he pushed his mattress into hers and pulled her down to cuddle with him. George laid on his back and Claire put her head on his chest and the blankets wrapped around them snugly.

“I love you,” George told Claire as she let her eyes flutter closed against him.

She hummed in response and pulled herself closer to him before falling asleep.

~*~

George woke up the following morning and found his arms and legs tangled around Claire's sleeping form. His heart jumped and his skin tingled at the memory of the sex they'd had last night. They didn't define their relationship last night, but George figured he could do that t a later time. They were in the throes of their passion last night and George held the memory safe in a mental treasure chest.

“How are you feeling?” Fred asked. He was already standing and half-naked, getting ready for the day.

“I'm excellent,” George said and smiled down at Claire.

“Did you two have fun last night?” Fred asked suggestively and winked. George's face got hot and he kissed Claire's head.

“That is private,” George responded. Fred scoffed.

“About time,” Fred said. “Better start planning your wedding soon.”

George carefully got up and rolled his eyes. As he stood up, he noticed the bloody bandage on the side of his head had shifted in the night and now laid on the pillow he used. Fred grimaced at the wound.

“Ouch...” Fred commented. “Does it hurt?”

George shrugged. “A little... I'll bandage it. Anyone else up yet?”

“Mum, but I think she's been too focused on breakfast to wake anyone else up,” Fred said and buttoned his vest.

“I'm awake,” Claire said from behind George. His heart skipped a beat and he turned to see her sitting up slowly. He smiled and walked over to her side.

“Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” George asked.

“Yeah, really well,” she said and rubbed her eyes.

“Big surprise,” Fred muttered, and George threw a pillow at him.

Before long, George found himself dressed for the wedding with Claire bandaging his ear once more in the bathroom. They were mostly silent until George found the courage to ask her the question that had been burning inside him all morning.

“Do you regret it?” he asked her once she had finished.

Claire raised a brow at him. “The bandage?”

“No.. no... last night. With me,” George clarified with a blush.

Claire's cheeks turned pink. “Um... no.. not at all. Do you...?”

“Not in the slightest. In fact, I wouldn't mind if we did that more regularly,” George said and cupped her hands in his. “Exclusively...”

Claire held his hands softly and smiled up at him. George's eyes met her and he felt like he could fly without a broom when she nodded her head. He felt like kissing her. He often felt like kissing her, but restrained himself, but now he didn't. He cupped her cheek and kissed her lips gently. He was thrilled to bits to be hers and to know that she's his.

“Ahem,” he heard a familiar throat clear. They broke away and saw Ron standing in the hallway. George's face got hot and he could see a small blush on Claire's cheeks. They exited the bathroom and before George had a moment to think, he was thrust into various tasks to help get the wedding and reception area ready for guests to arrive. He snuck glances and longing gazes and Claire all day, but it wasn't until the first dance of the evening that he could get alone time with her.

“May I have this dance?” he asked her with an outstretched hand. Claire smiled and took the floor with him. He smoothed his hand around her waist and then intertwined their fingers and held their hands to his chest. He wanted her close to him, as close as she'd let him get.

“Hm, reminds me of the Yule Ball,” Claire said after a few moments of swaying to the slow music.

George chuckled. “I suppose I should have asked you to that one.”

“I would have said yes,” Claire said. George tried not to think too hard about how foolish he had been and all the time they could have had together. Instead, he remembered that she had agreed to be his and only his and smiled.

“I love you,” he told her.

“I love you,” Claire echoed.

George smiled and leaned down, then planted his lips on hers in a sweet and passionate kiss.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Come Away With Me

Masterlist here

Characters: Tom Hiddleston x Female Best Friend Reader

Summary: The fact that you’re overworked is obvious. Tom takes matters into his own hands and whisks you away on a private holiday. Will your mutual pining finally make itself known in the secluded setting?

Warnings: A bit of swearing, some sexual innuendo, responsible alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: This is based off a request from @sabine-leo for a caring Tom to whisk away his best friend on a short break away from it all! Congratulations on your 3k followers, sweetheart! They are all very much deserved. <3

Also, thank you to @just-the-hiddles​ and @nonsensicalobsessions​ for giving this a glance and being amazing cheerleaders!

“Are you at home?”

A groan erupted from somewhere deep inside you, unbidden and unstoppable, in response to the heavenly ache of your feet flexing after slipping out of your shoes after a long day at work. You reached underneath your shirt and unhooked your bra, pulling it through the sleeve of your top to drop it onto the bed beside you. Bliss.

“Just got here.”

“You are working yourself to death. You should’ve been home hours ago. Have you eaten?” Tom’s exasperation bled through the tinny speaker on your phone, laced with concern that spread a comforting warmth inside your chest.

Your free hand snagged your comfiest lounge clothes from their rightful place in a pile on your dresser. Food hadn’t even been a concern with the stress that overrode your thoughts, consuming you and eating away at your sanity piece by piece. “Nope. I think there’s a granola bar in the pantry. Not that hungry.”

The faint but distinct sound of a car door slamming made it through the phone. “I’ll be over in thirty with the usual. No friend of mine will take such poor care of herself on my watch.”

There was no arguing with the stubborn man; a grateful smile tugged on your lips. “Thanks, Tom.”

“Love you.”

Tossing the phone onto your bed, you shoved the mismatched pajama pants and ratty t-shirt into a dresser drawer. Perhaps something a bit more put together and flattering if Tom was going to pop over…

~

“We’re going on holiday. Next week, Friday, as soon as you’re free from work.”

You almost choked on the beer you’d tilted to your lips. Coughing against the burning liquid searing your lungs, you set it down, staring at Tom with wide eyes as he rubbed your back in soothing circles that sizzled across your skin. When you could gasp a breath, you managed to blurt out, “Delusional-celebrity-best-friend-with-all-the-money-in-the-world says what?”

He chuckled, a light, breathy sound that you couldn’t help but answer with your own quiet laugh. “You are working yourself to the bone. Ah ah,” he picked his hand up off of your back and pointed a stern finger in your direction when you opened your mouth to deny it. “From one chronically, albeit self-imposed, overworked soul to another, there is no use pretending that you aren’t exhausted and in need of a break. Do whatever you must do to get your affairs in order, but you’re mine for three days.”

Damn if the demanding timbre of his voice didn’t send chills down your spine. You hid it by shifting on the couch beside him, dropping your eyes to the takeout carton in front of you. “You know I can’t aff-”

His hand settled on your knee, large and warm while his thumb brushed the outside of your leg. “Don’t force me to go on a weekend getaway all alone.”

There wasn’t any use attempting to fight the hopeful expression lifting his eyebrows and crinkling around his eyes.

~

Keys. Underwear. Swimsuit. Presentable pajamas. Enough outfits to last the trip. Charger.

The doorbell rang, pulling you out of your mental checklist as you stared critically at the open luggage sitting by the door. “It’s open!”

Tom strolled into the room, letting the cold in with him, greeting you with a warm hug and a kiss to your temple before joining you in looking at your suitcase with his arm draped over your shoulders. “Are we waiting for it to put itself in the car, or…?”

You slapped his chest lightly, the soft knit of his crimson sweater taking most of the force, before kneeling down to gather your things. “Just making sure I have everything. My brain is still a bit fuzzy after work today.”

He swept your belongings from your grasp with a wink and a smile that sent your heart skittering in your chest for his earnest beauty. This time alone was going to be the death of you. “I’ll pop this into the boot while you grab your coat and lock up.”

Your entire body gave into the exhaustion that had tugged on you relentlessly for what seemed like ages as soon as you sank into the heated interior of his car, surrounded by the gentle masculine scent of his cologne and oiled leather seats. Tom’s face was only partially lit by the occasional streetlamp or the glow of the dashboard as he guided his sleek car out of the city proper and into the countryside.

You’d wanted to stay awake, to watch the glow of small towns passing by, count the stars uninhibited by light pollution, even just pester him about where you were going, but it was all too easy to fall asleep rocked by the gentle turns of the car and lulled by Tom’s rich voice humming along quietly to the radio.

~

The typical sounds of busy city streets were absent when you woke. You frowned, blinking against the gray light streaming in through the windows as you sat up in a bed that was decidedly not your own. The previous night came back to you in groggy snapshots as you rubbed at the sleep in your eyes.

Tom gently shaking you awake. Guiding you to bed with his arm around your waist. Helping you out of your shoes and socks before picking out some nightclothes for you. Tucking you in and pressing a kiss to your cheek before telling you that he loved you. The brush of his hand across your forehead.

You didn’t even know where you were; you’d been too tired to ask the previous night. Running a hand through your mussed hair, you stumbled out of bed, staring out the window to see nothing but dense fog covering gently rolling hills. Not the most helpful scene for determining your location, but the peace of it all allowed you to take a deep breath that rolled through your body to settle deep in your soul.

The steaming hot shower loosened the muscles in your shoulders. The soft clothes that you slipped into erased the lines in between your brows. A pot of coffee waited in the quaint, but well-stocked, kitchen next to a note covered in chicken scratch meant to be words, maybe. Some squinting allowed you to pick out:

”Off on a run. Enjoy the coffee and relax. Be back soon. - Love”

With a mug warming your hands and a throw from the gray cloth couch in the living room tossed around your shoulders, you padded out in your socked feet onto the weathered deck that wrapped around the exterior of the cozy cabin Tom had rented. A chilling breeze rustling through barren trees was the only sound that reached your ears besides the soft blow of your breath to cool down your coffee. It was absolutely still, gifting you with a peace that only air perfumed with moist earth, crisp frost, and fresh evergreen could afford.

The cold was just about unbearable, fighting against your thin socks to sap the feeling from your toes, when a figure jogged down a gravel road to your left. It was easy to recognize the graceful silhouette of the man who’d whisked you away on this vacation, the lean lines of his body hard to mistake for anyone else even shrouded in mist and fog not yet burned by the rising sun. He loped up next to you, his chest heaving beneath his black t-shirt that was absolutely stuck to his skin with the sweat he’d worked up from his vigorous exercise.

Cheeks flushed. Eyes bright and focused as he smiled down at you. Hands carding through his hair - a dull copper in the light of the gray day. He was a vision. It was like your heart forgot how to beat. The intense desire to hear that ragged breathing in a different, more intimate setting, welled up within you so powerfully that you were thankful for the excuse of another sip of coffee to draw your eyes downward.

“Good morning, darling.” He leaned against the wooden railing behind you, squeezing your upper arm in greeting along the way. “Did you sleep well?”

You placed your finished mug down beside him, wrapping yourself tighter in your makeshift cape as you studied the fine figure of the man before you with a grin. “I did. Best sleep I’ve had in a long time, thanks to a certain someone carting me off to the middle of nowhere and then helping me into bed.”

His face fell with a sudden vulnerability that nearly split your heart in two it was so complete. “With how little time we both had available, somewhere close was the best option. And with the propensity for paparazzi to find me, I wanted both of us to relax without worry of intrusion. I apologize if it isn’t to your liking…”

You reached out and grabbed his hand without thinking. A shiver coursed through your body at the chill the opening in your blanket let in against your practically useless pajamas, but you’d do anything, risk any discomfort, to ease any tension in that man’s life. “No, no! It’s perfect. How about you go take a shower and I’ll whip us up some breakfast?”

He pressed a quick kiss to your head. Your lovesick heart convinced you that his lips, wonderfully soft and warm, lingered a second longer than appropriate between friends, that he inhaled the scent of your still-damp hair, but that was a fool’s wish driven by unrequited pining. “You spoil me.”

You pushed at his chest and crinkled your nose with a laugh. “Says the man who bankrolled this whole thing. Go. Shower!”

A mischievous twinkle lit up his eyes before he pulled you into a tight hug, swaying you back and forth as he forced your face into his damp chest with loud laughter that shook you both. You expected to be repulsed, but the clean scent of his sweat was so masculine and heady that you had to work hard to force your hands to push away at his sides instead of tugging him closer. The urge to tear off his shirt and watch the muscles flexing beneath your fingertips clenched deep in your belly. “Now you need a shower, too!”

“Get off me, you brat!” You wriggled out from his hold, blanket falling to your feet, mouth pulled back into an easy grin. The weight that had lingered on your chest for weeks lifted fully from his antics, and you knew he saw the tension disappear from the warmth that suffused his thoughtful gaze.

He swaggered towards you, a cowboy from westerns long ago in holey athletic wear and a finely accented voice that made your knees weaken, dropping his chin to rest his forehead against yours. “We could save water and shower together.”

Did he know the effect he had on you? Swallowing against the sudden moisture in your throat, you shoved him in the direction of the door, shaking your head. “Go!”

The frigid air biting at your flushed cheeks was very much welcomed after he disappeared. You sank back against the wooden planks of the house. With a drop of your head against the siding, you groaned, closing your eyes and crossing your fingers that you wouldn’t make a fool of yourself alone with Tom. If he continued on the path he was on, you weren’t certain of that success.

~

After a dinner of his world-famous bolognese with pasta and garlic bread, you sat on the couch next to one another, him picking idly at his guitar and humming little tunes as you watched him and sipped at your beer.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?” You softened the words with a broad smile, shifting so that you faced him with your legs tucked underneath you.

His brows quirked upwards as he looked up at you from his deft fingers plucking at the strings. The idle melody never ceased as he replied, “Am I, now?”

The drinks, the delicious food, the comfort that you felt in his presence all worked together to loosen your lips in a daring way you’d never risk otherwise. “For sure. You’re an amazing actor, you can cook, you dance, you’re so bloody handsome that it hurts to look at you sometimes, you saw that I needed a break and demanded that I come with you on this adventure, and if I recall correctly, you did have a movie that revolved a great deal of singing.”

A bashful flush spread across his cheeks, and his eyes dropped to his fingers which had slowly stilled during your tipsy admission. When he looked back up to you, heat darkened his gaze, and your blood pounded in your ears at the promises you read within. “Is that a challenge?”

“Is what a challenge?”

He rose from the couch and turned to face you fully. With a calming breath, he launched into Hey Good Lookin’. But unlike the movie version that you had watched religiously because of the haunting beauty of his character, this was slower, quieter, more intimate. Your fingers dug into the cushions beneath you as he held you captive beneath his powerful stare, all intoxication having melted away from him to deliver the song straight to the heart beating an impossibly fast drum against your ribcage.

You didn’t know how to proceed. Your body screamed at you to stand up, step into his embrace after taking the guitar from his hands, and give him what he’d asked for in roughly delivered song. But your mind cautioned you. It knew better. Knew that any flirting from him was most likely hope on your part. He was friendly, kind, affectionate in his trust. That was all.

So he moved for you, carefully placing the guitar on the couch before holding out his hand to you palm up in an invitation you would never turn down. “Did you bring your swimsuit like I instructed you to?”

~

“You’re absolutely mad!” Even just standing in the living room, staring out the glass doors at the hot tub that you honestly hadn’t even noticed throughout the day, you were shivering from the cold that seeped through the cracks to raise goosebumps on your exposed skin.

Tom stepped out of his bedroom, drawing your gaze with a dark chuckle that did terrible and wonderful things to your tummy. Especially in addition to the sight of him in just his swim shorts, the smattering of light chest hair drawing your attention down the middle of his lightly muscled chest to his abdomen before disappearing beneath thin black fabric. Very thin black fabric. You swallowed against the desire that had you imagining what you’d find if you followed that trail.

“You’ll be fine once you’re in the water!” he reassured you, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you outside. He released you to quickly hop into the bubbling water with a gasp and then a rumbled moan that was made of such sin you forgot how to breathe. The sight of the dimples at the base of his spine made your fingers ache to trace the contours of his body until you had the feel of him memorized. Steam billowed from the water in white clouds lit from underneath the bubbles sounding so loudly in the quiet of the night. You swore you saw Tom’s eyes dart to your chest where the unforgiving temperature made itself known through the thin fabric of your suit. “The longer you resist the colder you’ll get!”

Steeling both your electrified nerves and your raging hormones, you slid into the water beside him, sounding your own moan at the heat that slowly penetrated the layer of cold that surrounded you like a second skin. Your bare shoulders and neck still felt the brunt of the winter air, though, and you drifted closer to Tom. “I can’t dunk my whole body in here, Hiddleston. What’s your solution to that?”

With a questioning look over your flustered face, the draw of his eyes from yours to your lips and back again, he lifted his arm from between you to pull your weightless body in the water until you sat sideways in his lap. His arm curled around your shoulders so his thumb could tease your collarbone, ridding you of any rational thought as you tried to grasp the new turn of events.

Tom had always been affectionate, freely doling out hugs, kisses on your temple, and even words of praise when the opportunity presented itself. But this? The curl of his breath against your neck and the rasp of his thumb over the hollow of your throat, it felt like something more. A continuation of the unsaid words littered between you on the couch earlier.

“Is this alright?” he whispered, barely audible over the bubbling tub, but you felt the words just as you heard them, traveling through your side pressed into the planes of his chest to wrap around your heart.

If only he knew how very much it wasn’t alright. How the press of his thighs into yours and the feeling of his heart racing against your arm was sending so many mixed signals that your brain threatened to short-circuit and spill smoke from your ears. Hesitantly, you twisted your torso just enough to hook your arm around his neck, scratching idly at his scalp. It was far more comfortable for you, but judging by the sharp intake of his breath, perhaps it wasn’t for him.

“Yes. Is this alright?”

He dropped his forehead to rest on your bare shoulder and tightened his grip on you ever so slightly. But you’d notice any minute twitch of his body with how attuned you were to the wonderful man holding you close. “Perfect.”

Despite the anxious energy bordering on heartbreak simmering beneath your skin wherever you melted into him, you had to agree. What more had you wanted out of life than to sit in a hot tub in Tom’s tender embrace, staring at the stars and just breathing each other in?

~

“You continue spoiling me like this and you’ll have to move in with me whenever we get back,” you teased, hugging him from behind, your face finding a home in the dip of his spine between his shoulder blades, your hands smoothing over the flat of his abdomen.

“I think that if we ever moved in together, you would come stay at mine,” he chuckled, dropping the spatula currently tending to the eggs for a proper fry-up to close a hand over yours. His fingertips danced over your knuckles. “You needed a bit of pampering, and I am fully up to the task. Breakfast is about finished, if you could get a few plates?”

When you turned back to him after grabbing two plates big enough to handle the absolutely massive amount of food he’d prepared, Tom was right in front of you, the food left unattended on the stove. Indecision warred in his eyes, and his hands fidgeted with the edges of the apron he’d thrown on over his t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms.

The sudden shift in his mood was so immediate that you immediately put the plates down on the counter. “You okay?”

A shaky breath. The rub of his hands over his clean-shaven jaw. His lips pressed together and he settled his hands on his hips, dropping his chin to look up at you through golden lashes that caught the light trickling in through the small kitchen window. “I love you.”

Those three words, uttered with such a hesitant, low voice and a somber expression, kickstarted your heart into overdrive. You adjusted your robe around your shoulders. It was a strain to act as if you didn’t simultaneously fall to pieces and soar to the heavens each time he said it, especially so early in the morning and without caffeine. But you managed, plastering on a weary, if a bit confused, grin. “I love you, too.”

A tentative step forward so that you were only a breath away from each other. His hands sought the curve of your waist, skimming over them in a touch so gentle and yet loaded with tension that you thought you’d explode. The various shades of blue, green, and gray that made up his eyes were visible just before his eyelashes feel to caress the tops of his chiseled cheekbones, giving you just a moment to realize what was happening before he touched his lips to yours.

Oh. You couldn’t have stopped your hands from skimming up his torso to cup his shoulders for anything. He pulled away for just a second, unsure by the trembling of his fingers against your sides, panting out puffs of air against your tingling lips.

“I love you,” he repeated, a hoarse whisper caressing your skin. Worry creased in between his brows and the flutter of his jaw.

You silenced his doubts. Your body found a home flush against his, pliant curves to firm planes, holding onto him as if letting him go would wake you from the lusciousness of the dream. Molten heat scented with coffee and sugar spilled out from the hunger of your kiss. You delighted in the taste of his plush lips. The lick of his tongue against the seam of your lips before he sucked and nibbled on your bottom lip was almost your undoing, and you were grateful for his neverending strength holding you securely in the band of his arms.

An acrid odor that singed your nostrils broke through your feverish haze to mix unpleasantly with the aftershave that tickled at your nose along his cheek. Both of you sprang apart from the other, turning to see the eggs burning.

“Fuck!” he shouted, ripping the pan from the stove to throw it into the sink. He fanned away the smoke toward the window with flailing hands, but it wasn’t open, and the frantic sight of him after such an intense moment burst the bubble between you. You doubled over for a second, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all.

When you had managed to calm down after opening a few windows, you sank back against the counter, putting on the best pout you could muster despite the happiness singing inside of you. “But I love eggs.”

He quickly trapped you in his arms, spinning you around and peppering kisses up the column of your throat in a way that had you dizzy and breathless. He nipped at your earlobe and growled, “I’ll give you something else to love, darling.”

~

Tidbit of Tom taglist: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @ladyblablabla

Whole Shebang taglist: @just-the-hiddles @yespolkadotkitty @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish @the-broken-angel-13 @arch-venus25 @xxloki81xx @jessiejunebug @tinchentitri @sllooney @devilbat @vikkleinpaul @bouquet-o-undercaffeinated-roses @angelus80 @wolfsmom1 @kthemarsian @toozmanykids @claritastantrum @princerowanwhitethorngalathynius​ @sabine-leo​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @peterman-spideyparker​ @wegingerangelica​ @bluefrenchfries604​ @catsladen @snoopy3000​ @silverswordthekilljoy​ @villainousshakespeare​

[haileygarciasunshine]

Intention

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1,690

Warnings: a bunch of fluff. drinking, swearing

Picture-perfect, you don't need no filter

Gorgeous, make 'em drop dead, you a killer

Shower you with all my attention

Yeah, these are my only intentions

Dustin was your brother, you considered each other to be the others best friend, that’s how close you two are. He had started hanging out with someone you went to school with. His name was Steve Harrington. You were never fond of Steve, until you were back to back fighting what your brother and his friends called ‘Demo Dogs’. You hadn’t bothered to date anyone from school, because your brother expressed his distaste for all the guys you went to school with. Everyone, but Steve (and Johnathon but he was with Nancy now). 

Dustin ways told Steve that he should do something about his crush on his sister. He never thought that, he would ever say that to someone, least of all Steve, given his track record. It was Christmas time, which meant that you had to go to Sears as a family, to get your annual, Christmas family portrait done. Every year, you and Dustin made it more cringe worthy than the last. This year, you were wear matching blue sweaters. Each time, the Sears photographer took a photo, you and Dustin made funny faces. He had given Steve, a wallet size photo of the family portrait. Steve would never admit it to Dustin, but he thought you were beyond Gorgeous. He stuck it in his wallet, right away trying to act nonchalantly about it. The photo was of you with your eyes closed laughing, while Dustin did his ‘Purls’, and your mom with a classic un-amused, bitch face. 

Already passed, you don't need no approval Good everywhere, don't worry 'bout no refusal Second to none, you got the upper hand now Don't need a sponsor, no, you're the brand now

Steve could count the number of people who’ve been over to his house, while his parents were home with one hand. He was beyond, nervous to have someone over while they were home in general to say the least. He was hesitant to allow you to come over, even if it was just so you could get your project done for science. 

Pulling up to the drive way you were overwhelmed with nervousness. You had barely, even met your friends parents, let alone the guy you had feelings for. Taking a deep breath in, you grabbed the basket of freshly made cookies, and rang the doorbell. You had never been to Steve’s house before, so you weren’t even sure if you were at the right one. Suddenly, the door flew open and revealed one of Steve’s parents. 

“You must be, Y/N. Please, Come in,” the woman said, her voice sounded soft and velvety. 

“Good Evening Mrs. Harrington. I hope you don’t mind, I brought over some freshly made cookies.” 

“Oh my! You didn’t have to do that! Steve’s lucky to have a girl like you around!”

You blushed at her comment, shutting the door behind you. Steve hadn’t even heard the doorbell. Fear, spread through his body like wild fire. Rushing out of his bedroom, he paused at the top of the stairs, behind a wall. Having heard the whole conversation he smiled, never had he heard his mother approve anyone he brought home before. 

__________Time Skip to even later that night_________________________

“Do you want to go to a party?”

Steve spoke, breaking the silence. 

“Isn’t it too late to go to a party? It’s 10:30!”

“It’s never too late, baby.”

“Don’t call me that Harrington.”

“So, do you want to go to a party or not?”

“Dustin, will kill you if he ever finds out.”

Your response caught him off guard. Steve never pegged you as one to go to a party. 

As you arrived at Tommy’s house, the music was booming, and cars were parked up and down both sides of the street. He was beyond shocked, when the second the both of you walked in to Tommy’s house, you were greeted with a chorus of, “Y/N!” From the partygoers. Suddenly, you were whisked away by a group of girls that came up to the both of you, once you stepped foot inside.

It wasn’t until twentyish minutes later that you were back by his side.

“I wasn’t aware, I was in the presence of Miss Popularity.” He joked.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed his red solo cup from him, and take a drink.

“Come on, Harrington. Let’s dance.” 

Not waiting for his response, you grabbed his hand and lead him to the circle, of people dancing. More like dirty dancing. As, you made your way through the crowd, you stopped turning around, you grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt, pulling him closer, starting to move your hips. Guiding his hands to your hips, you spun around so your back was pressed to his chest. You didn’t miss the groan that had escaped deep from Steve’s throat.

“Y/N. You’re killing me.”

He brought his lips to the side of your neck gently, placing kisses there, unsure of himself. Letting this go on for awhile, you both decided it was time to go. Steve being the gentleman that he had become, opened your door for you. Leaning around the door, you leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

Letting out a soft, “My hero.” 

We in our feelings It's fifty-fifty percentage (fifty) Attention, we need commitment We gotta both admit it (both) It's funny we both listen (both) It's a blessing 'cause we both get it (both) You the best thing and I don't need a witness (best thing) I'ma find me a ring and pray it's perfect fitted (perfect)

After awhile, you and Steve couldn’t deny that there was chemistry, between the both of you. Even, Eleven knew there was something there. Deciding, that you needed a break from all the masculine energy, you, Max, and Eleven, all had a girls sleepover. It would be El’s first one, so it had to be perfect. You drove the girls to the mall, not realizing that they would want to stop at an all too familiar, ice cream shop, ‘Scoops Ahoy’. This make you groan internally. 

“Aho- Hi, Y/N!”

Robin greeted you, grinning from ear to ear. As both girls ran up to the counter, the sliding window on the back counter flew open. You were greeted with the face of your brother and Steve. 

“Dustin? What’re you doing here?”

“Do I really have to answer that?”

“Well, yeah. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want an answer?”

“Steve, Robin, and I are trying to crack a Russian code!”

Simultaneously, two voices yelled, “DUDE!”

You chuckled in response. 

“You know what, I don’t even want to be involved. Have fun with that, you three.”

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help the smile that had crept onto your face. The girls had chosen a both to sit at, so you turned to join them. Your back was towards the isle, so you didn’t get the chance to see Steve sneak up behind you. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, while trying to act nonchalantly. You brought your hands to rest on his forearms. Leaning down, he pressed kisses to your cheeks, while you closed your eyes enjoying the moment, with a smile plastered on your face.

“Hey Lover Boy! Get your ass back here so we can solve this!” 

“Dustin! Language!” You yelled back at him in response. 

Steve let out a low laugh at the both of you, placing one last kiss to your cheek he squeezed your shoulders before unwrapping himself from you before saying, “Alright, alright, I’m coming. Don’t cream your pants!”

You and the girls busted with laughter. Steve, met the backroom door, turning to give you a small wave, in which you returned, bringing a visible blush to his face. Suddenly, a hand shot out from behind the door, roughly grabbing the front of his ‘Scoops Ahoy,’ uniform, before a voice said, “Yeah, yeah, he’ll give you a call when he gets home, so you two love birds can talk about your feelings,” the voice said as the hand yanked him into the backroom. It didn’t dawn on you until later, that the hand belonged to Dustin. 

It wasn’t until Max was explaining, to Eleven what Dustin meant by ‘Love Birds,’ that you realized that Steve had yet to call you. Deciding, you didn’t care what impression you gave off, you grabbed your bedroom phone, and sat cross legged on your bed. 

“Hello?” A groggy, deep voice answered.

“Steve?” You asked in surprise.

“Y/N? Fuck. I’m sorry! I passed out after work, Dustin was really serious about the code.”

“It’s fine, Steve. I was just worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?”

“And Robin, and Dustin, uh.”

“You can’t take it back now, Y/N!” Hearing him the teasing in his voice before he continued, “Aww! You were worried about me!”

It was like all your smart quips had been drained from your brain, “Shut up, Harrington.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“I worry about you too.”

“Good to know Steve.” Letting out a sigh of relief with a smile on your face, it felt like it was only you and Steve in the world. Both Max, and Eleven had made themselves comfortable across from you on the bed. You didn’t notice their intent stares. 

A short pause.

“Hey Steve?”

A deep hum could be heard.

“I like you.”

You could hear the smile and relief in his voice, “I like you too, Y/N.”

You smiled, not thinking to respond.

“What are you doing tomorrow around 7 O’Clock?”

“Nothing, wh-oh.”

Chuckling he continued, “Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Suddenly, two high pitched squeals was the only sound. He knew you were having a ‘Girls Night’, so their reactions didn’t catch him off guard. That wasn’t the case for you. All he heard was an ‘oof.’ 

Both girls, had hurled themselves in excitement at you, before you could answer him, two high pitched voices answered for you.

“She would love to!”

[angeltannis]

Iron Boy, Chapter 3: A Quest For Validation

(Ao3 Link)

All the thinking in the world was nothing compared to The Real Deal. Which, that fateful day, came in the form of a companion Moze decided would understand.  

FL4K was extremely meticulous with the feeding times for their pets, which meant they were always in the same part of Sanctuary at the same time every day. This day was no different. Several bowls were lined up in a perfect row on the floor of the ship’s central hub, each filled with a different kind of food ranging from pellets to squirming grubs.  

If FL4K was surprised to see Moze lingering by those bowls that particular day, they didn’t express such a sentiment. Instead they stomped by her with their usual diligence, followed closely by an array of beasts. “Here you are,” they said in that deep, mechanized voice of theirs, stepping aside to let their pets at their bowls. “Feed.” 

“Hey, man–” Moze hesitated as FL4K met her gaze with that single LED eye of theirs. “Uh, I mean...” Speaking in masculine terminology was her go-to for everyone, including herself. FL4K never failed to remind her that they were neither man nor woman, and that her gendered slang made no sense in application. “FL4K. If I were to ask you to do something really weird, and then never, ever talk about it again, would you be down for it?” 

“A bizarre request. I cannot commit to a response until I am given more details.” 

Double-checking to make sure no one was around, Moze knitted her fingers together. “Would you be willing to call me a ‘he’? Just so I can see how it feels?” 

FL4K’s unreadable face was unsettling at the best of times. Now it left her with no idea how they were going to respond. 

“Maybe you could just, like...” Her voice faltered, dropping in volume. “’Oh yeah, Moze, he’s a really cool guy. Well not a guy, but like, a cool Vault Hunter. And he’s got lots of style. And the ladies love him. Something like that.” 

FL4K stared at her for a long time. Then, in a tone entirely deadpan, they said, “Yes, Moze. He is a really cool guy. Not a guy. A cool Vault Hunter. He has lots of style. And ladies love him.” 

Her stomach fluttered again. Wow. “Do you...think that suits me?” 

“Humans’ gendered pronouns are largely incomprehensible to me.” 

So FL4K could voice Moze’s requested pronouns, but could not weigh in on if they suited her or not. For that, she’d need human input. 

Still though, the tingling in her stomach was real. “Huh. Thanks, FL4K.” 

“I am uncertain what I actually accomplished, but you’re welcome.” 

Humans understood pronouns in a social context. But they could also pass judgment and reject her. Was there a human onboard this ship who could give her an honest opinion without potentially turning her into a social pariah? She was too nervous to talk to Amara about it, and Zane was unreliable at best. Telling Moxxi was as good as telling everyone on the ship, and Ava was way too young to get it. 

Wait a minute. There was absolutely a human on board who could give her honest feedback without fear of social rejection.  

After gobbling down some skag jerky and downing half a bottle of Rakk ale from the kitchen, Moze dragged her feet to Sanctuary’s upper level. 

~~~

In the army, one was taught to keep pace. Keep rank. Fall in line. Movements, words, even thoughts were trained to a rigid rhythm, and to break that rhythm was to risk your entire squad breaking formation in battle, a death sentence. 

The way Dr. Tannis moved, talked, and even just existed flew in the face of everything Moze had had drilled into her all those years. She was erratic and chaotic, unpredictable. Her behavior made Moze nervous for just that reason. She preferred conversations where she could be reasonably sure of what the person was going to say next. Talking to Tannis felt like reading dialogue written by a predictive text emulator. 

When the infirmary door lifted into the ceiling, Tannis had her back turned. The door opened constantly when people walked by (side effect of the ship being designed by people with no spaceship design experience, to put it politely), so it made sense she might ignore it. But Moze had a feeling the doctor intentionally ignored entrants to her lab, anyway. 

As Moze took a few more steps inside, she realized Tannis was talking to herself. No, wait–she was talking to the toothbrush propped in a cup on her desk. Of course.  

“No, no, you must have misplaced it. Ava specifically said she would not steal from my lab when I wasn’t around.” After a moment of silence, Tannis whipped her chair over to face the toothbrush. “Well I am more inclined to believe her, considering you lied about putting the toilet paper backwards on the roll. Who does that?!” 

“Uh, hey Doc?” Moze was practically on top of her before Tannis finally turned around. 

“Oh, hello...you.” Tannis made no attempt to hide her scant recognition of the Vault Hunter who had helped save her life just a few months prior. “Do you require something of me?” 

“Yes.” Unlike most everyone else, Tannis actually appreciated and understood the art of getting right to the point. It was just about the only thing the two of them had in common. “I need your opinion about pronouns.” 

“Oh, you can use any for me, I don’t care.” With a wave of her hand, she was already turning her chair back around. 

“Not for you.” Moze reached out and turned the chair back around. Tannis raised her eyebrows, but did not protest. “For me.” 

Tannis’ face scrunched. She briefly–very briefly–met Moze’s eyes. “I do not feel as though that’s something I could make a call on.” 

With a sigh, Moze leaned against the desk housing Tannis’ array of illegible papers and empty coffee mugs. “Do you think it’d be weird if I asked people to use he/him for me, even though I don’t think I’m actually, like, a guy? ” 

Tannis was eyeing her paperwork. It was clear Moze was little but a distraction to her. “I find it equal parts baffling and amusing that you are asking me to be the judge of ‘weirdness’. How on earth should I know how the slack-jaws aboard this ship will perceive non-traditional relationships to gender? Most of them glaze over upon the use of a word with more than two syllables.” 

“’Kay, look. Lemme explain.” Moze held her hands out in emphasis. Tannis’ eyes flicked from the right to the left in turn. “I’m kinda going through a thing here. It’s probably not a big deal, but I wanted to ask somebody who won’t treat me different afterward. I know you pretty much treat everyone with equal...” 

“Apathy?” Tannis volunteered. “Disdain?” 

“Yeah, those. So that’s why I’m asking you.” Moze drifted her hands down, emphasizing the entirety of herself. “Do you think I’d make a good he/him...whatever I am?” 

Tapping her chin, Tannis eventually said, “As surprised as I am by your decision to recruit me as your pronoun advisor, I must admit I am flattered. So I will give you my honest opinion.” Her bright green eyes, so vivid with life and curiosity, searched Moze for another moment. “I was not entirely sure of your gender when I met you. I’m terrible at that sort of thing, anyway, but...” 

“Wait. You couldn’t tell I was a woman?” 

Tannis shrugged her leather-padded shoulders. “I pay very little attention to gendered markers and such. Or to people in general.” 

“So you...” In spite of her bravado, talking about such delicate topics made Moze feel very, very small. “You think people would be cool with calling me a he? It’s kinda weird.” 

“I’d certainly call you that. Easier than trying to remember your name.” The accompanying blank stare emphasized Tannis’ point. 

Moze stared back. “It’s Moze.” 

“Right. Of course.” 

As much as the cyclical conversation had largely gone nowhere, it somehow made Moze feel better. At least one person on this ship didn’t give a damn what pronouns she used, and would respect whatever she chose. 

“I appreciate this, Doc.” Moze was tempted to give her a good-natured whack on the back like Lorelei had done, but quickly rethought it. “I might change my mind, but, well, I might not.” 

Tannis gave a sage nod. “It took me decades to really begin to know my own self. You’re young yet–it’ll come to you in time. And there’s nothing better than embracing yourself and your quirks!” Plucking her toothbrush out of its cup, she said, “Isn’t that right, Greb?” 

The surprisingly maternal bit of consolation dismantled the last bits of wall Moze had erected around her vulnerabilities. Biting her lip, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.” 

“Anytime, Nose!” 

She was buried in her paperwork again before Moze could bother to correct her. Apparently that was the end of the conversation. Moze slunk out of the lab, her head filled with more thoughts than ever–but for once, they were not entirely bad. 

~~~

What little confidence Moze had worked up talking to FL4K and Tannis was obliterated the moment a certain other Crimson Raider sat down with her at the same dining hall table. Moze froze in place, the greasy meat of her sandwich sliding out onto her plate with a series of plops. She didn’t look up. She didn’t have to. The meticulously-moisturized deep brown arm lined with otherworldly blue tattoos that leaned down onto the table told her everything she needed to know. 

“Ugh, greasy meat scraps again? You really need to start eating better.” Amara’s multiple arms set down six plates, filled with probably every food group. “Didn’t they teach you how to take care of yourself in the military?” 

Uncertain how to respond, Moze took a big bite of her sandwich and chewed slowly. 

Amara started in on the dish nearest to her, a hefty salad. “What’s the matter? Ratch got your tongue?” She laughed that teasing but good-natured chuckle of hers that made Moze’s heart rate increase. “I’m pretty sure they do eat tongues, actually.” 

Amara was not someone Moze felt comfortable with. Not because she disliked her–in fact, it was entirely the opposite. She made Moze sweat a whole lot more than usual, and say things even dumber than usual. 

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Moze attempted a laugh as boisterous as Amara’s. Her laugh was so small and thin compared to Amara’s deep, rich voice. “Sorry, just...really focused on my...sandwich.” 

Most of the remaining meat had fallen out. Moze was basically eating grease-soaked bread. 

Amara’s gaze flicked from the plate full of sandwich innards to Moze’s rapidly-pinkening cheeks. She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to. 

For as boisterous as she could be, Amara kept many of her opinions close to the chest. Moze had literally no idea how she felt about gay stuff or gender stuff. She had no idea whether Amara herself was gay or trans or anything like that, either. Much as she wished she knew what Amara was into. 

The tiny bites of bread she took slid down her throat like that deep-fried thresher tentacle she definitely had not grabbed off a food cart at Carnivora that time. Why did this have to be the time Amara suddenly took interest in her? Did she have some magic siren sense that told her when someone around her was in distress? 

She wanted so badly to reach out. Amara was the closest thing she’d had to a “gal pal” in, well, ever, really. Is that something we’d still consider ourselves? Or would I have to be something else? Amara’s...bro? That felt weird, but then another thought crept shyly through her mind–she was nowhere near ready for dating, maybe never would be, but if she did...could she call herself someone’s boyfriend? That thought gave her those stomach flutters again. They didn’t feel like food poisoning or gas. They felt like when you managed to dig up a good memory amidst a sea of bad ones. 

“I gotta go.” Moze informed Amara of her departure as she was already in the process of departing. Amara simply watched her, a frown on that gorgeous face of hers. Moze had never thought Amara cared–at least, not enough to hide her movie star smile behind a frown of concern. Yet there she was, not a trace of bold, cocky smile to be seen. 

She thought about Lorelei’s offer to talk again, and of Tannis’ oddly supportive advice. Maybe more people cared about her than she thought. Maybe she didn’t have to be scared to show her vulnerabilities to the people around her.

Turning back around was about the hardest simple thing she’d ever done. “Okay, actually,” she said, trying for a voice that was strong and devoid of fear, “there is something I wanted to tell you.” 

[belorage]

Wes for the full clear on the OC asks? 😘😘😘

— OC QUESTIONS

BASICS

What’s their full name? Wesley Daniel Brooks

What does their name mean? Why were they named that? Wesley means “western meadow,” Daniel means “God is my judge,” and Brooks means “stream.” You can find my real world reasoning for choosing his name here. As for the canon reasoning, Wesley is a family name on his father’s side and Daniel is a good Christian name. 

Do they have any nicknames? Lots. Wes is the big one (Hwes if you’re Hurk Jr.), Rook, Dep (Deputy if you're as extra as John Seed), Bright Eyes (Raf only), Sundance (Nick only), Darling (Lyra, when she’s being cheeky), and probably a handful more that I’m forgetting.

How old are they? 28, almost 29 as of the start of FC5.

When’s their birthday? November 11, 1989

What’s their zodiac sign/element/birthstone/etc.? Do they believe that holds any significance? Scorpio sun, Aries moon, Aquarius rising. Year of the snake. Birthstones are topaz and citrine. He isn’t aware enough of any of this to believe in it.

What’s their species/subspecies? Do they have any special/magical abilities? He is a natural disaster in human form. His special ability is that he somehow manages to survive that for as long as he does.

What “class” do they belong to (for fantasy characters)? If none, what weapon do they favor? A revolver (Steel & Ivory), a sawed-off shotgun (Sin Eater), or basic hand-to-hand. Close combat is preferable to range. He also uses homemade C4 in his tireless crusade against cult infrastructure.

APPEARANCE

What do they look like? He’s 6′3″, has brown-ish hair (specifically, a warm golden bronze color) and hazel eyes with long eyelashes. Fit, moderate-to-lean build. Sharp features, angular jaw, a pronounced Cupid’s bow. He has the facial hair of a man who has forgotten to shave for two weeks, because he is—you guessed it—a man who has forgotten to shave for two weeks.

Do they have a face claim? Tomas Skoloudik

What’s their style like? Clothes, hair, makeup? Casual clothing—flannels (often tied around the waist), t-shirts, henleys, jeans, boots, jewelry (gold, leather), leather jacket, cargo jacket. His hair is messy and soft, just like he is, because he doesn’t overload it with hair products unlike some people. He’s got an ouroboros tattooed around the lower part of his right forearm and (universe-dependent) John and Lyra’s names on the inside of his wrists.

How do they carry themselves? What��s their default expression? He attempts to project swagger and indifference, but to anyone who knows him and is paying attention, he’s an open book. In a comfortable environment, he’s loose and casual. His default expression is fixated if he has something to occupy his mind and distant if he doesn’t.

Do they have any physical ailments or disabilities? No, but he’s got bruises and flesh wounds aplenty! He’s got bite marks and scratches galore! You want knife-slashing scars? He’s got twenty. But who cares? No big deal. Wes wants mooooore! 🎵

PERSONALITY

What’s their alignment? Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral

Which one of the 16 Personality Types do they fit into? ISFP

What are their hobbies and interests? Do they have any particular “favorites” (food, books, and so on)? I answered for his favorite films and TV here, and his favorite book is Watership Down. He likes the Beatles and bar snacks and black coffee. His favorite cultists are Lyra, John, and Shaggy—please don’t judge him.

What are they bad at? Dancing!

What kind of things do they dislike/hate? Hates being controlled, dislikes very sweet things.

Do they have any vices/addictions/mental illnesses? Impulsiveness, reactive behaviors. He smokes and drinks, although neither of those are done with a shocking amount of excess. Previously, harder drugs. 

What are their goals and motivations? Freedom and acceptance.

What are their manners like? Any habits? He’s not a jerk; he has passable manners when the situation calls for them, but Emily Post would like him not. His habits are covered in much more detail here, but the big one is that he tends to busy his hands and/or mouth with things wherever possible.

What are they most afraid of? Rejection, abandonment, enclosed spaces, death (specifically, the possibility of an afterlife). 

BACKGROUND

Where were they born? What was their childhood like? Born in Hope County. He was an only child and his home life was suspect, but made moderately more bearable by his best friend. Once he realized trying to please his father was a losing battle, he said hell yeah to a downward spiral of rebelliousness and troublemaking.

What’s their family like? His dad was a jerk of the sort that would never be satisfied. Big on toxic masculinity, short on acceptance. His mother loved him, but she fell in line more often than not.

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold? Hope County Sheriff’s Office (probationary sheriff’s deputy), Hope County Resistance (figurehead, pot stirrer, problem magnet). 

How do they fit into their “story”? Barely. Next question. I hate to use this word yet again, but it’s the only one that fits: his story is mostly about acceptance—self, fate, fault, sorrow, joy—because as much as he desired acceptance from others, he denied a lot of it for himself.

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like? He grew up in the Silver Lake trailer park, way up on the northeastern end of Holland Valley, near the Whitetails. For the duration of the game timeline, I picture him spending more time crashing where he can—with the Ryes, in the woods, wherever—but his own place would be sparse and fairly untidy, with clothes tossed everywhere. 

How do they eventually die? Wesley intends to live forever. How dare you insinuate—

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend? Within the timeline of the game, he has quite a few. Raf is his best friend (and has been since they were kids), but Nick (and Kim) are both up there. He has a soft spot for Mary May; that seems to be reciprocal. He appreciates Grace because she doesn’t ask unnecessary questions. Sharky and Hurk offer unconditional friendship, which he appreciates and sorely needs. Adelaide is the vodka aunt who thirsts after his ex. She tries to rile him up sometimes (in a myriad of ways), but he likes her. And if you account for other universes, his friend count goes way up thanks to the various and sundry brat squad kids.

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it? When he was younger, he was the introvert-adopted-by-an-extrovert. He was a bit too withdrawn to have friends outside of that, though he wasn’t unfriendly. For a bulk of the current timeline, his friend group is “ragtag misfits” status and he basically gets ping-ponged between them as they try—with varying amounts of success—to fight a cult.  

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids? Depends on the universe. In canon, it’s messy but becomes significantly healthier later on. His previous relationship was promising and likely would have been ideal, except that they were young and unable (or unready) to deal with the realities of their situation. In AU, he is enemies-with-benefits but also grossly in love with the Judge of Eden’s Gate and her husband (who was a fun surprise, but it’s fine, because Wes got Lyra back by giving her a gracious two-for-one deal on children)!

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust? Whitehorse is something of a father figure, though Wes would never say that out loud. For the record, neither would Whitehorse (at least not directly to Wes)—mostly for Wes’s benefit. He trusts Raf, Pastor Jerome, and the rest of his friends listed above.

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies? Joseph, because Joseph is daddy issues incarnate. Jacob, because Jacob understands Wes well enough to yank him around like a dog on a leash. By the time the Collapse hits, everyone is his enemy to some extent (as evidenced by the adorable horns and pointy tails drawn all over his wanted posters). Notable exceptions are John, Sharky, Hurk, and Whitehorse; however, all but the first are functionally unknown to him.

Do they have any pets? Just Boomer, who is the best emotional support animal a disaster could ask for.

Are they good with kids? Animals? He’s naturally good with both children and animals, but he lacks practical experience, especially with the former (shout-out to the Ryes for finally adding that to his resume).

FUN FACTS

Which tropes do they fit? Which archetypes? Tropewise, he’s Troubled, but Cute and I can’t refute it; apart from the high school thing, it’s a full BINGO clear. He’s also Bruiser with a Soft Center, Inferiority Superiority Complex, Cosmic Plaything, Desperately Craves Affection, Hero with Bad Publicity, I Am Not My Father, and almost certainly a whole host of shameful others that I don’t dare brave the rest of TVTropes to find. Of the twelve classic archetypes, he’s some combination of The Hero and The Outlaw. Otherwise: fallen angel, antihero, byronic hero, prodigal son. 

Do they play any instruments? Sports? He can play guitar, but only at an intermediate level. He’s not big on sports, but he can ice skate and he likes to swim.

What are some items they always carry? Steel & Ivory and a lighter; later, Sin Eater. In New Dawn he carries John’s watch.

Do they collect anything? Bad decisions. Minicultists, apparently. Nothing in particular.

What position do they sleep in? His default position when he’s alone and in a comfortable place is on his belly. There are exceptions listed in greater detail here.

Which emoji would they use the most? Honestly, he’s not really the type to use emojis, but he will send his love interest pictures of things he likes or finds pretty with no context. Otherwise, his texts tend to be short, to-the-point, and lacking in punctuation or capitalization. Believe it or not, he’d much rather communicate in person. My most frequently used emojis for him are 🍰 and 🐍. (Awww, cake and snake... They rhyme. How precious!)

What languages do they speak? English. He knows a limited amount of Spanish, but he’s better at understanding it than he is at speaking it.

What’s their favorite expletive? Damn or fuck.

What’s their favorite candle scent? Pine.

What songs remind you of them? I have a playlist for him here, but it—much like him—is a bit of a mess. I also have a playlist based on his own taste in music here.

Which animal would you say represents them? Snakes, stags, swans, scorpions.

What stereotypical high school clique would they fit into? Loners or troublemakers, probably. Stoners on a technicality—he doesn’t fit the stereotype, but he does have a history. He has some of the soul of an art kid but, tragically, none of the talent.

What would their favorite ride at an amusement park be? At a real amusement park, probably the roller coasters. At something more lowkey like a carnival, he’d like the classic, aesthetically pleasing rides like the Ferris wheel or the carousel.

Do they believe in aliens? Ghosts? Reincarnation or something else? He’s not an “I Want to Believe” sort of guy, but he still can’t explain the Larry Parker debacle. He tries very hard not to believe (or at least not to think about) any sort of afterlife, because he fears it.

Do they follow any religions/gods? Do they celebrate holidays? His family was Catholic, but he endeavors not to be. He likely wouldn’t celebrate holidays as a bachelor overmuch, but he would take part in holiday activities with others.

Which Deadly Sin do they most correspond to? Which Heavenly Virtue? Pride and Fortitude.

If you had to choose one tarot card to represent them, which would it be? The Tower, The Devil, The Wheel of Fortune.