#i got not one but TWO portraits done on a single weekend

[daemon-in-my-head]

Y'all think Orin would stab me the way she did the painting for this?

Also sneaking his... something in here cuz like idk what im on but it's kinda working.

[tillidontneedfantasy]

A Track-by-Track Breakdown of Taylor Swift’s 9th Studio Album: ‘evermore’

“My collaborators and I are proud to announce that my 9th studio album and folklore’s sister record is here. It’s called evermore,” is how Taylor Swift introduces us to this album in its foreword. One might assume a “sister record” would entail b-sides, or tracks that didn’t quite make the cut for folklore, despite Taylor’s explanation that “we just couldn’t stop writing songs.” evermore’s release came at a strange time, upon the heels of the Folklore: Long Pond Studio Sessions film on Disney+, as well as 5 Grammy nominations for folklore. The world still captivated by folklore, it’s understandable why one might not consume evermore as critically. Even as a die-hard fan, I felt some whiplash by this announcement; I am still processing folklore! Hell, I’m still processing reputation!

If this was the Taylor from two years ago, this may have been a big enough fear of hers to hold off on releasing evermore. But as she explained upon folklore’s surprise release, life is too unpredictable now, and there are zero givens or guarantees. So she followed the same path this time (although making sure it fell in line with her birthday weekend). But it’s not just the strategic timing of the release that she’s thrown out the window for now, but also her mindset whilst making records. As she explains in the evermore album foreword,

“I’ve never done this before. In the past I’ve always treated albums as one-off eras and moved onto planning the next one as soon as an album was released. There was something different with folklore. In making it, I felt less like I was departing and more like I was returning. I loved the escapism I found in these imaginary/not imaginary tales. I loved the ways you welcomed the dreamscapes and tragedies and epic tales of love lost and found. So I just kept writing them.”

This is a revelation for Swift, to let the music lead her into artistic freedom, which is what makes evermore such a triumphant return. Truly folklore’s sister record, Taylor wrote evermore with the same creative team: Aaron Dessner of The National (Swift’s favorite band), long-time pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff, Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, and William Bowery aka Swift’s boyfriend, Joe Alwyn (as officially revealed in the Long Pond Studio Sessions). Additionally, former 1989 tour openers and close friends of Taylor, the HAIM sisters, join the crew, along with Marcus Mumford for some dreamy backup vocals.

The production is just as wistful and mesmerizing as it was on folklore, yet the storytelling on evermore is kicked up a notch, expanding on the topics and worldbuilding established in its sister record, with even sharper lyrics and an effective and elaborate use of alliteration. The best thing about Taylor is that no matter what she does, her masterful lyricism is always at the heart of her art, and somehow, she keeps getting better. Once again, I wanted to explore the rich stories she’s crafted in this woodsy universe. This is how I’ve interpreted the album, but I hope you find your own meaning in the songs as well.

1. willow It is fitting that the opening track to folklore’s sister album, where we wade further into the forest that is Taylor Swift’s imagination and storytelling, would center on the type of tree that is a symbol of hope, belonging, safety, stability, and healing. “willow,” one of the few more obviously autobiographical tracks on the album, is a hymn of gratitude for her man (as she wants you to know, yes, thirteen times), Joe Alwyn, and how the invisible string tethering them together pulled her to him in a time when everyone else was counting her out. Though not as present on many of the other songs later to come on this record, you can feel the lightness in her heart on this song as she embraces the way in which the willow has bent, wrecking her plans, throwing her into the water and leaving her happily lost and afloat in his current. The downward key modulation throughout the last two repetitions of the chorus is beautiful and very fitting for Swift vocally, but also sounds like the feeling of finding your comfort and settling into it, basking it in while you wait for the next place the wind pulls you. Best lyric: “Now this is an open/shut case / I guess I should’ve known from the look on your face / Every bait and switch was a work of art.”

2. champagne problems On the second track of the album, Taylor dives back into the fictional worldbuilding she began to explore on folklore. While on folklore high school relationships and dramatics took center-stage, evermore graduates from adolescence to young adulthood, not that it is any easier emotionally on the listener’s heart. “champagne problems” chronicles a rejected marriage proposal between two college sweethearts at their old dorm building. Taylor sings as the narrator, a reflective, self-deprecating young woman who jokes about belonging in a madhouse and dismisses all her turmoil as champagne problems. The term ‘champagne problems’ itself could have various meanings here: their trivial concerns, the fact that their “sister splashed out on the bottle” of champagne that they will not be using to celebrate as they had hoped, or perhaps it could even hint that excessive drinking is a piece of all the ways the narrator is “fucked in the head,” as they said. Although the person she is singing to is the one who got hurt in the story, the hurt in the narrator’s heart is just as palpable and relatable, because you only have yourself to blame when you self-destruct. Best lyric: “’She would’ve made such a lovely bride, / what a shame she’s fucked in the head,’ they said / but you’ll find the real thing instead / she’ll patch up your tapestry that I shred.”

3. gold rush On her YouTube live chat prior to the album’s release, Taylor explained that this song “takes place inside a single daydream where you get lost in thought for a minute and then snap out of it.” The daydream consists of a love story so pure that the town had never seen such a thing; it could only happen in a fantasy for the narrator. How could she possibly have the gall to call them out on their contrarian shit, or end up with her Eagles t-shirt hanging from their door, when they are so coveted by all, and when she cannot withstand the thought of even competing? She sings, “My mind turns your life into folklore / I can’t dare to dream about you anymore,” a sweet little connecting piece to this album’s older sister, effectively convincing herself out of the idea of jumping into the chaos of the gold rush because even inside her own imagination it’s too dangerous. Best lyric: “I don’t like that falling feels like flying ‘till the bone crush.”

4. ‘tis the damn season According to Aaron Dessner, Taylor had written the lyrics for “’tis the damn season” in the middle of the night amidst their Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions recording after a long night of chatting and drinking with their co-conspirator, Jack Antonoff. The lyrics perfectly encapsulate the guttural ache the track evokes. It is a tale of two people who always find their way back to one another in their hometown, which acts as the ever-returning fork in the road. The path taken, back to L.A. in pursuit of her dreams, is the one she chose and continues to choose, but whenever she returns home, she takes a ride down the road not taken, just to get a taste of what could have been, even if just for the weekend. What starts off as an icy homecoming always transforms into the warmest intimacy. The success of this track is aligned with the success of Taylor’s entire career; even with such specific details, it feels so deeply personal to the listener. You know the street you’d drive along late at night laughing, the spot you’d park the car, the person who stars in every what-if. You will never really know if the road not taken is as good as it seems, but that might be ok; sometimes, the fantasy is better than the reality, anyway. Best lyric: “It’s the kind of cold / fogs up windshield glass, but I felt it when I passed you / There’s an ache in you / put there by the ache in me.”

5. tolerate it Inspired by the novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, “tolerate it” is an agonizing track from the perspective of a devoted wife who polishes plates and paints portraits and waits by the door for her husband with a battle hero’s welcome, who at best tolerates all her adoration. There are few things as painful as idolization being met with indifference, when you have all this love to give to someone who just leaves it there untouched. “tolerate it” captures that desperation for the approval you know will never arrive, but you sit and watch, waiting for it just in case you’re wrong, but you know you’re not. Best lyric: “I made you my temple, my mural, my sky / now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life / drawing hearts in the byline”

6. no body, no crime feat. HAIM “no body, no crime,” the one evermore song solo-written by Taylor, has the clearest plot from beginning to end. In the same vein as the female powerhouse country classic “Goodbye Earl” by The Chicks, Taylor is out for blood to avenge her friend, Este (named for one of the HAIM sisters). The story goes as such: Este’s husband kills her for calling him out on his infidelity, and then Taylor kills the husband and frames his mistress. The HAIM girls, who are long-time friends of Taylor’s and former touring mates, lend their vocals to reinforce the accusation on the husband and to provide Taylor’s alibi. “no body, no crime” is so far the closest we’ve gotten to a return to “country Taylor,” proving that she is still the master of a killer country tune (yes, pun intended, it had to be done I’m sorry). Best lyric: “Good thing Este’s sister’s gonna swear she was with me / (she was with me, dude) / Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy”

7. happiness Written a week before the album’s release, “happiness” is one of Swift’s strongest and most reflective breakup songs. Although she writes it as though it is recent, there’s a lot of power in knowing that she’s been happily in love for four years, and that she is even better now at doing the thing that has always been best at. She is finally “above the trees,” as she sings, and is able to see it all for what it is, but her character is still in the heat of it all, trying to navigate the stages of grief when a relationship ends. We see the narrator grapple with many of those stages throughout the song. Most striking is the anger displayed in the second verse when she sings: “I hope she’ll be a beautiful fool who takes my spot next to you / No, I didn’t mean that, / sorry, I can’t see facts through all of my fury.” That section is jarring and feels like one of the most honest moments in a Taylor song, the insanely difficult emotional balancing act when we are grieving a relationship. The devastation of loss can distort our perception, and a part of that is the difficulty of understanding how multiple seemingly opposing things can co-exist in our hearts, such as happiness because of someone and happiness after them. But when you leave it all behind and finally find your place above the trees, you can find happiness after someone and also look back and appreciate the happiness they once provided. Both of these things can be true. Best lyric: “Showed you all of my hiding spots / I was dancing when the music stopped.”

8. dorothea Taylor Swift has the uncanny ability to create such developed and well-rounded characters with such little information, which is what makes her storytelling so compelling. In “dorothea,” we learn much about the title character through the narrator’s eyes, and the relationship they once had. The lyric “skipping the prom just to piss off your mom and her pageant schemes” alone tells an entire story in itself. “dorothea” is also the companion song to “’tis the damn season,” just from the other person’s perspective, which helps shine even more light on the story. The narrator of “dorothea” reveres her but wonders if she’s still the same soul in L.A. as she was back in their never-changing town. Whatever the answer, they’re still willing to support her no matter where she is, but she’s always welcome back in Tupelo by her hometown love’s side if she ever just wants to be herself rather than someone known for who they know. Besides, they’re the only soul who can tell which smiles she’s faking. And you can always return to the road not taken. Best lyric: “They all wanna be ya / but are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? / Well, I guess I’ll never know / and you’ll go on with the show.”

9. coney island feat. The National What really started the folklore / evermore journey was Taylor’s love for The National. Taylor has cited them as one of her favorite bands for many years, and as we know, this led to her beautiful new collaborative relationship with Aaron Dessner. So it would make sense for the track written with the intention of this duet to be so well executed; you can feel the love and care Taylor put into writing this song. In her press for these sister albums, she has spoken about trying to channel frontman Matt Berninger’s writing style. But what actually happened was she just produced her own signature lyricism at its sharpest. “We were like the mall before the internet, it was the one place to be / the mischief, the gift-wrapped suburban dreams / sorry for not winning you an arcade ring over and over,” is a hall of famer Swift-ian lyric. “coney island” explores the confusion, hurt, and self-reflection when a passionate affair burns out fast because you did not prioritize that person. And to top it off, Swift and Berninger’s harmonies are achingly beautiful, transporting you right there in the story, on the bench, wondering, over and over. Best lyric: “Do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there? / Will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

10. ivy Leave it to Taylor Swift to make a song about an affair sound so romantic, and so sympathetic to the narrator, that you’re rooting for adultery. “ivy” tells the tale of a woman in a lifeless marriage, likening her home with him to the tombstone that the widow in town visits each day. I like to think this is the same wife whose husband was out there building other worlds without her in “tolerate it,” because then that means she found someone who celebrates her love, who holds her pain for her, who blooms all over her; they started it, but she’s fighting for it all the way to the end, nonetheless. “ivy” showcases Swift’s gorgeous vocals and her sharp lyrics, with a melody so infectious it is bound to permanently plant its roots in your dreamland. Best lyric: “Oh, I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland / my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

11. cowboy like me With the beautifully blended backing vocals of Marcus Mumford, “cowboy like me” is an entrancing love story of two con artists who lost at their own game and got conned into forever with each other. She’d gone from swindling old men for their money and fancy cars to falling victim to the danger of dancing with someone who only has eyes full of stars, and she knows she’ll pay for it. “cowboy like me” is one of the most romantic tracks on the record, proving that life never plays out quite as we plan. Best lyric: “Now you hang from my lips like the gardens of Babylon / with your boots beneath my bed / Forever is the sweetest con.”

12. long story short One of the more pop-sounding tracks on evermore, “long story short” is pretty much a summary of the long story behind reputation (2017). The song is filled with various metaphors for her reputation crumbling around her, and then finally putting her defenses down to be with her lover, someone as “rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky.” It is a sweet ode to her boyfriend, and a gentle comfort to her past self that it will all work out. But it is also an oddly relatable example of how we shrug off our struggles and minimize them to just a “bad time,” when the time she is singing about was obviously something that deeply affected her (as will be further explored in the title track); but sometimes it actually feels good to just shrug it off as just a blip in your life, because at the end of the day, you survived, and that’s what counts- even if you’re not keeping score anymore. Best lyric: “Pushed from the precipice / clung to the nearest lips / long story short, it was the wrong guy. / Now I’m all about you.”

13. marjorie Whereas track 13 on folklore was a tribute to Swift’s paternal grandfather, evermore’s track 13 is a tribute to her maternal grandmother, Marjorie Finlay, who was an opera singer in the 50s, and passed away in 2003 when Taylor was 13 years old. “marjorie” is quite possibly the most touching track Taylor has ever written thus far in her career. Grief is one of the most difficult topics to tackle in a song; the genius of “marjorie” is that it is simple, yet not understated. Swift reflects on the profound lessons she learned from her grandmother, about the difficult balances of kindness and cleverness, and politeness and power. She curses herself for not cherishing the moments she had with her, for complaining rather than understanding in the moment how admirable her spirit was, for all the amber skies she’d love but will never see. The chorus, blunt and hard-hitting, reminds us that someone does not have to be living to be alive, to be all around, to be with us. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were singing to me now,” Taylor sings towards the end of the song, right before you hear a sample of Finlay’s opera singing in the background, a truly eye-swelling moment. It is clear that Finlay played a pivotal role in Swift’s own ambitions, as she sings, “all your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me.” Marjorie knew she was leaving them in good hands. If you haven’t yet, check out the moving lyric video for the song, where you can see photos and video clips of Marjorie, both throughout her career and in her time with Taylor. Best lyric: “Never be so polite you forget your power, / never wield such power you forget to be polite.”

14. closure On the most experimental track musically on the record, Taylor writes off her need for closure from a relationship of some sort, whether it be romantic or platonic or business, all of which can cause hurt of equal intensity. The subject of the song is trying to make nice with Taylor, and she is just not having it, as it is not coming from a genuine place, but rather to ensure that their life remains picture perfect, or to clear their guilty conscience, or to preserve their own ego. This is a deeply relatable sentiment; as valuable as forgiveness can be, sometimes the person who hurt you just doesn’t deserve it, and all you can do is forgive yourself for blocking their number or shredding their letters. Best lyric: “I know I’m just a wrinkle in your new life / staying friends would iron it out so nice.”

15. evermore feat. Bon Iver To close out the standard edition of the album, Taylor joins forces once again with Justin Vernon of Bon Iver, with whom she collaborated on the Grammy-nominated duet, “exile” for folklore. However, Swift leads most of the track this time, lamenting the difficult time she went through in 2016. The piano and Swift’s vocals are haunting, particularly when she describes this time in her life as “catching my death,” consumed by a pain that she feels will never end. If you’ve ever been depressed, you know what that feels like, and the dark places it leads you. Although she is singing about a time four years prior, it sounds so present, and it is heartbreaking to hear her in such a state. When Bon Iver comes in, the tempo of the song picks up, the piano riff becomes more erratic, like a winter storm hitting you in the face, and he voices all the anxieties of the cost of such a downfall. But through those anxieties, Taylor finds not a cure, but an anchor in love, and then the tempo slows back down. By the end of the song, Taylor has the foresight to understand that although it may not feel like it now, the pain she is experiencing is not permanent (a sentiment my therapist has been trying to instill in me for years). In her Apple Music interview with Zane Lowe, Taylor explained how the lyrics parallel the times we are in currently, and so it feels really special to have the album end with someone who knows how it feels to be imprisoned by your pain gently comfort us with the wisdom that “this pain wouldn’t be for evermore.” I hope one day soon, as we leave 2020 far behind, we can all truly believe her. Best lyric: “I was catching my breath / barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death.”

16. right where you left me (bonus track) The first bonus track on evermore, “right where you left me,” captures a moment so earth-crushing, a piece of you is trapped in it forever. In this song specifically, the narrator finds herself stuck in the same corner of a restaurant where she was told by someone she loved that they had met someone else. “Glass shattered on the white cloth, everybody moved on,” she sings in mourning. We have all experienced those moments that we could teleport back to if we just closed our eyes; the scenery, what you wore, the smell and taste of the season, the very point in your body where it felt like your insides were collapsing. Or that one particular person, who is long-gone from your life but seeing them is like time-travelling back to that person you once were, ready to pick up where you left off. But as much as you want to stay in that moment forever, just in case it changes in your favor, the cold reality is that the world stops for no one. Best lyric: “If our love died young, I can’t bear witness / And it’s been so long, but if you ever think you got it wrong / I’m right where you left me.”

17. it’s time to go (bonus track) “right where you left me” was Taylor’s cry for help to get out of restaurant, and “it’s time to go” is the answer to the call, as she sings in the first line, “when the dinner gets cold, and the chatter gets old / you ask for the tab.” This song is about gathering the strength to leave situations and relationships behind that no longer serve you. She grieves the betrayal of someone she thought to be a twin from her dreams (almost definitely referring to former friend, Karlie Kloss), acknowledges that keeping a marriage together for the sake of the kids often actually has the opposite intended effect (possibly- but not certainly- something she and her brother experienced), and recounts attempting to bargain with someone consumed by greed, only able to leave with herself (absolutely referring to the end of her fifteen-year long business relationship with Scott Borchetta, her former record-label owner). But as painful as leaving all of those situations was, Taylor has gained the wisdom to understand that walking away sometimes takes as much strength as persevering. You can’t stay at the restaurant, or at the mercy of someone else forever; you have to forge your own path, even if it’s in the opposite direction of what you envisioned for so long. And even with all her past success behind her, as folklore and evermore have proved, there is so much more ahead of her. Best lyric: “That old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in your soul / You know when it’s time to go.”

In a time where we are all trapped in our homes and in our heads, the folklore/evermore experience has been the sweetest escape. If anything, the creation of these wonderful sister records has taught me that our most powerful tool in times of distress is our own imagination. Even just the ability to close my eyes while listening to one of these tracks and feel the character’s story is a gift. The way I’ve always been able to pick up Harry Potter and escape to Hogwarts when I’ve felt alone and friendless, I can listen to folklore and evermore when I feel scared or hopeless and escape into this enchanted forest Taylor has built, where I can climb above the trees and see it all for what it is. I feel so lucky to watch Taylor’s imaginative world unravel around me. I can’t wait to see what she creates next.

DISCLAIMER – REVIEWER’S BIAS: I would literally die for this bitch.  

[jandjsalmon]

2022 Fanfiction Reading Challenge

July 2022 Stats  

Well, my friends. It’s been a rough little bit. We finally moved into our new house. Still don’t have grass or other landscaping - but we’re no longer in the hotel so I’m considering that a win. My mom came to visit for a week. It was good - only got into one political argument so that was personal growth. My middle son left on a mission for our church for two years - so I’m still in that sad but proud stage. There were lots of tears (not all of them mine). And then, of course, my show did what my show has done for two years. Disappoint. It’s been a thing.

Anyway - I read a little bit less this month because of all the real life shenanigans - and a lot of what I read was reactionary to part two of Stranger Things - I’m 100% Eddie/Chrissy trash so many many Eddissy fics were read this month. 

I’m still working on my Hard (72/88) and Extreme(37/65) challenges. There are several tasks at the @fanfic-reading-challenge that deal with minorities. Do any of you currently have favourite stories that are based in various countries all over the world (or even fictional countries) that you can direct me to?

Also - before I go - here are some of my favourite reads and rereads for the month. If you have any suggestions for stories (that you loved or that you wrote), please let me know.

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where the streets have no name by @alltheseghosttowns​ (1/1 - E) Summary: There are no monsters. There is no death. There's just a golden girl and an outcast boy, and the beginning of something in the thick summer air.Or: Chrissy and Eddie take a road trip to California. (Stranger Things) Why you should read it: THE FEELINGS! 

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Scars by IndianSummer13 (20/20 - T) Summary: When rising photographer Jughead Jones scores a photo shoot with model-of-the-moment Betty Cooper, he expects to use it, simply, to help his career take off. What he doesn't expect, is to be so enraptured with her beauty. Or for the single shoot to turn into a series of stunning portraits, Or to witness the marks on her palms grow into burns across her skin.. What he doesn’t expect either, is to be her salvation. (Riverdale) Why you should read it: One of my ultimate comfort fics. I reread it like 3 times a year. Jughead in this story just touches my heart and soul. I love him, your honour.

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Two Drops by guiltyreasons (5/5 - E) Summary: What if Sweeney had known he was the final ingredient that Laura needed for the potion? What if there had been a little more luck in that old gold coin? The resurrection of Laura Moon happens a bit differently and the two have a chance to figure some things out. An alternative ending to season 2 episode 5 and beyond. (American Gods) Why you should read it: These two deserved a happy ending. -

I hope you enjoy the recs - and I hope you all have a wonderful weekend and enjoy the rest of your summer. 💛☀️

(the above gif was me for the first week of August)

[siriusheadspace]

illicit affairs - sirius black x reader

Warnings: angst, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!!)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You and Sirius start seeing each other in secret around Hogwarts since his best friend Remus has a crush on you, but is too shy to act on it. Inspired by "Illicit Affairs", by Taylor Swift.

A/N: God, all of a sudden I developed this hyper fixation with Sirius. I got a bunch of ideas for stories with him (and all of them inspired by songs lol) but this was the one that felt more structured. I haven't written in a while and English is not my first language so be kind lol

Words: 2k ish

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Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head Keep your eyes down

You could swear the entire Hogwarts castle heard your hitched breath while you tried to make your way to the Gryffindor tower as silently as possible. Sirius was the one to leave first this time, heading for his dormitory while you had to count to 300 - you forgot your watch this time. You were sure it was his time to wait, but you didn't contradict him after he zipped his pants, gave you one last rough kiss, and said "Later, then?".

Tell your friends you're out for a run You'll be flushed when you return

It took some time to develop this relationship to the point where you didn't have to talk and check each other's stories to avoid being caught. You knew your friends and roommates didn't believe you were risking getting caught and losing house points just for a night walk around the castle, but they gave up on you telling them who you were seeing.

Take the road less traveled by Tell yourself you can always stop

It started last year, in your sixth year in Hogwarts. You always had a crush on Sirius, but that's not uncommon - nearly every girl on your year couldn't help falling for his long, silky hair, his gray eyes, his long, yet toned body, and, of course, his devil may care attitude. But he never really paid attention to you, just some light flirting in a party at the Gryffindor common room one time; you were pretty sure he didn't know your name. But it changed last year. You can't quite point to when, exactly, you noticed the Marauders would go quiet once you walked by. But it got to the point where you would always notice. You'd pass by them on purpose, flattered by the attention Black was finally giving you. But you didn't notice that it was his friend, Remus, that gave you the most passionate looks.

What started in beautiful rooms Ends with meetings in parking lots

At a party right after a Quiddich match, you decided you would do something about it and give Sirius the chance to make a move. You took hours getting ready, borrowed a dress from a friend, the cleavage more revealing than anything else you ever wore, the fire whiskey burning your throat and your shyness. Once you came down the stairs, you could feel the glances at you, running up and down your body, another rush to add to the whiskey and to boost your confidence. Your friend group was close to the Marauders and you thanked the gods for it. You were all dancing together, and Remus excused himself after a few songs - you later figured he might be trying to get confident enough to make a move - once Sirius perfume got to you. Sandalwood, something citric and tobacco, all mixed to intoxicate you. You started dancing closer to him, and, in a spike of lust, grabbed his hand and went to an empty room. He looked confused but didn't complain when you pushed him against the wall and kissed him fervently. You felt his smirk, his excitement, once he pushed you back against a table and pulled your legs around him so he could lift you and sit you on it. He only stopped to catch his breath once you were panting and pulling his lower lip between your teeth. You felt like a goddess when his long fingers explored your body, lingering on your exposed curves. You unbuttoned his shirt while he unzipped your dress, and, without giving it a second thought, with a spark of pain between all the pleasure, you had your first time with the infamous Sirius Black.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And longing stares

When you were finished, the combination of soreness and embarrassment started to make your chest heavy - the first time of many. Sirius was a gentleman, though, helping you fix yourself enough so it wasn’t obvious that you were doing what you just did, not commenting on the blood, or when your nails pressed against the skin of his shoulders out of pain. You felt his stares during the next few weeks, trying to find a way of talking to him and meet him again, maybe on a date, something more romantic than snogging on dark, empty classrooms. One night, you were reading in the common room and noticed him alone, leaning against the wall, close to the portrait of the Fat Lady. Once he felt your eyes on him, he left the room, and you felt a rush, getting up, counting to ten, and following him to another empty classroom, where he quickly took your book off your hands and moved them to his neck.

It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

You were anxious to repeat his steps, standing against the wall, waiting for him to look at you. But he sure followed you to yet another empty room. That time, you actually had a conversation after you were done, but it was far from the romantic invitation for a date at Madame Puddifoot. "You need to be less obvious", he said, buttoning up his shirt. "I just did what you've done last time", you said, pulling your skirt up, feeling the warmness between your legs, the humiliation of being scolded like a kid by the person responsible for it. "But if it's going to happen that often", he smirked, "we have to figure out a way to do it in a way that people don't have to pay the tiniest amount of attention to find out, baby", he completed, and started scheming. You agreed to his plan: whenever any of you wanted to see the other, you'd send a note with a smiley face, something that wouldn't be revealing and wouldn't mean anything to anyone but the two of you, and you'd meet at three in the morning at the come and go room. "It's safe. And it has an appropriate name, don't you think?", he laughed, and you shot him a weak smile. He walked to the door but before he opened it, you put your hand on his arm. "Sirius", you said, and he noticed that he liked the way his name sounded on your lips when you were composed as well, and scolded himself for the flutter in his chest caused by it, "Are you doing something this weekend? I thought we could go to Madame Pu..." "We shouldn't be seen in public, doll", he said, trying to give you one of his smirks, but you noticed how his eyes still looked sad. It didn't matter, though - the weight of rejection pulled you down and you had to use all of your energy not to break down crying while going back to your room. Sirius went first. Once you were about to go up the stairs that would lead to your room, you heard his laughter with his friends coming from the other staircase. Unbothered by your encounter.

Leave the perfume on the shelf That you picked out just for him So you leave no trace behind Like you don't even exist

You've dealt with by rationalizing it in many different ways. You thought that the next time you got a piece of parchment with a smiley face, you'd just ignore him, happy to imagine him alone and pathetic, waiting for you. But you never had the strength to do it. You'd always fix your hair and some makeup and went straight back to his arms.

Take the words for what they are A dwindling, mercurial high A drug that only worked The first few hundred times

"Why does it have to be like this?", you asked, feeling brave, six months after your first encounter. "Y/N", he said - you felt a shiver up your spine like you always did when you heard your name in his voice - "I'm a bad friend. And I'm trying to avoid coming to terms with that", he completed with a sad smile on his face. Once he noticed your confusion, he explained how he started noticing you after Remus admitted to having a crush on you, but never had the guts to tell you. That Remus made him notice things about you he wasn't paying attention before - how your lips would pout when you were concentrating during Charms, how your soft curves were visible under the heavy wool of the sweaters you liked to wear - but it was you, in a burst of attitude, pushing him against a wall that made him give up on being a good friend for Remus on what concerned you.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings And stolen stares They show their truth one single time But they lie, and they lie, and they lie A billion little times

You accepted your status as a shameful secret. Remus still gave you fond looks and eventually had the courage to get close to you, trying to help with your DADA homework, complimenting haircuts, holding doors open to you. And you thanked him with your heart full of guilt, Sirius' stare burning on your back. After one of your encounters, Sirius brushed his fingers against your cheek and pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. You were still shocked at the demonstration of affection when he left the room first, and you started counting to 300 again. 151… Is he falling for you? 208… It can't be. It has to be just physical. Why would he fall for you and still keep you as a secret? 299… It clicked. He could fall for you a million times, it would never be as important as his friendship with Remus. And you loved him a bit more because of that. 300.

And you wanna scream Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else

You tried seeing other guys. You went on dates, and you blushed at their compliments, but none of them had a fraction of the effect of Sirius had on you. You still hoped he noticed when one of them would hold your hand on the way to Hogsmeade. You could only hope it hurt him as much as it hurt you to see him flirt with other girls. To listen to his voice calling them "baby".

Don't call me kid Don't call me baby Look at this idiotic fool that you made me You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

One night, you were whispering his name with him already inside you, your shirt undone, your bra unclasped, your skirt pulled up, when the door opened. The pain in Remus’s eyes as he understood what was happening in front of him was something you knew you would never forget. Sirius left you there, dressing himself quickly while apologizing profusely to his friend. You turned around and tried to fix yourself, and they left without even looking back at you.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

None of them ever spoke with you again. It was as if you were taboo. Even James and Peter wouldn't pay attention to you once you spoke in class or told a funny joke to your friend in the common room. You figured it was fair. They had to do what's best for their friendship. And if pretending you didn't exist was the price to pay for that, they'd all pay it. When you saw them all laughing together, joyful, you knew you'd do the same.

But, sometimes, you could swear you felt Sirius’ gaze against you. And you knew that was as close as he'd get to ever touching you again.

[fairyoftbz]

Tournesol | Changmin

🌻 pairing: shy florist!changmin x fem!reader (briefs mentions of barista!Jacob & tattoo artist!Kevin) 🌻 genre: fluff, slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers (?) 🌻 word count: 3.1k 🌻 synopsis: you are new in town so you decide to explore a bit of your neighbourhood. You never knew that the flower shop down your street would change your life in a good way.  🌻 requested? : yes, thank you so much! ✨ 🌻 A/N: here comes my first ever post for my first personal project! thank you to the anon who requested this and i hope you’ll like it! constructive feedback is always welcomed in my dms or my asks!  I will write the English translation of the French word I used in that way. PS: If anyone wants to be tagged on my future posts for this project, please let me know !!

Locking the front door of the brand-new apartment you had just moved into, you pulled down your light coat’s sleeve after dropping your keys in your little cross-body bag. You walked down the few flights of stairs that separated you from the entrance hall, quickly checking if you had any mail and walked out the door as it was found empty.

Today was your lucky day because the wind stopped blowing right before you woke up, and the sun decided to show up as you were enjoying your breakfast, making you finish it on the little balcony right outside your living room. You couldn’t ask for a better start of the day, the light mood and warm atmosphere bringing nothing but a huge smile on your face.

You greeted the old lady with a wave and a bow as she was swiping the entrance of the bakery, wishing her a great day as you kept your route.

__

Two weeks ago, as you were moving in, the baker happened to be with her son and some of his friends, and instead of helping her serve the bakery customers, she sent them over to your place as she knew who you were, since you visited her place in a rush the day before. She seemed to have the gift of the gab because she was quick to ask if you were new around the neighbourhood. You remember being surprised by her behaviour and politely answered, but you were glad that you had this conversation with her. You weren’t even halfway through your move that the 4 boys appeared in the entrance hall, offering their help. Feeling a bit suspicious at first, you kindly refused, but when one of them offered you a smile extremely similar to the baker and introduced himself as her son, you finally gave in and accepted their help.  

The amount of time you had planned for your move got reduced by almost three thanks to them. They followed your orders like no one else, and once they were done moving the boxes around the rooms and left, you quickly went to the local convenience store you had spotted at the other street corner and bought 4 bottles and some chocolate for them. You walked by the bakery the following day, and the son happened to work here, replacing his mother while she was at a doctor’s appointment. He was touched by your small gifts, and he made sure to call his friends to come over and get them while you slipped away from the bakery to go to IKEA. Before you got to leave, he advised you to take a few walks around the neighbourhood to get to know your surroundings. You wished you could have followed his advice earlier, but you were busy with moving in and get ready for your interviews that could lead you to potential jobs.

But today was the weekend and you decided to take some time for yourself and follow the advice of the baker's son. It was a beautiful day, and you had planned to make the most of it to get familiar with your neighbourhood.

__

Your area was surprisingly calm to be in the middle of the city, but you weren’t going to complain since it was something you were dying to have: a friendly, quiet neighbourhood. The nice smell of the bakery lingered around you as you walked past the building, following you until you turned at a corner, leading you to a new, unknown street. Some shop windows were beautifully decorated, and you mentally took some notes of the various local shops that could become potentially useful one day. You walked past a china shop, staying for a few seconds to admire the detailed and precise work displayed in the window display. Offering a smile to the young lady inside the store, you walked away and looked around, noticing something that caught your attention on the opposite pavement. You quickly checked as no car drove by and crossed the street, smiling as two shops were the polar opposite of the other. The flower shop in front of you was sweet, it smelt delicate and chic, just like flowers. The walls were covered by some off-white roughcast, adding a soft touch to it.

A few meters away, on the left of the flower shop, was a tattoo parlour. You giggled as you noticed the cliche that emanated from the two places. The parlour was covered in black, with a Gothic, biker style, posters of metal and rock music pasted around the walls, hardcore music blasting from the speakers, completely contrasting with the softness and the sobriety of the flower shop. A tattoo artist appeared behind the counter that was situated next to the window and your eyes widened, trying to quickly count the number of tattoos and piercings that was decorating his body. A single front piece of hair was dyed blond among the other jet-black strands, his warm smile standing out from the rest of his physical appearance.

You turned your head to the side as you focused on the flower shop, its atmosphere suiting you better despite the next-door shop spiking up your interest. You smiled at the yellow Beetle parked in front of it and pushed the door open after a few seconds of consideration, a small bell tingling as it hit the glass door.

The smell of pollen and freshly cut flowers welcomed you in, the intensity of the colours making you slightly dazed. They were all gorgeous, the arrangements giving you an impulsion to buy a bouquet of each flower they had in store, but that would never happen.

“Welcome!” a voice from under the counter greeted you, a man appearing behind it a few seconds later, secateurs in hand. You smiled as you greeted him back, charmed by how similar he was to his store, soft and friendly. He stayed behind the counter, watching you walk around his shop, all of his other activities and tasks were instantly forgotten as soon as you stepped a foot inside his store.

Changmin was amazed by your smile, finding you incredibly beautiful, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of your admiring smile creeping across your lips. He was dying to talk to you and get to know you, but he knew himself, he was most likely going to make a fool of himself if he ever dared to exchange some words with you. He was already pleasantly surprised that he had managed to welcome you without getting in a muddle or stumbling on his words.

With a slightly shaking hand, he diagonally cut the end of the red roses resting on the counter. He couldn’t help but glance at you, which you didn't notice, luckily for him. However, by paying too much attention to you and your gorgeous smile, he began to cut the stems a little too rapidly and too high, alas once pinching a piece of skin between the pruning blades, making him jump in pain and let go of the gardening tool. Changmin stifled a groan of pain and rushed into the back office, looking for the first aid kit. He hurriedly found a sticking plaster and wrapped it around his cut, pressing on the wound to ease the pain and get back to work as quickly as possible.

As he reappeared in the doorway that separated the back office from the front office, he heard the bell above the door chime again, signalling your departure.

His shoulders subsided and he watched you walk away with a disappointed pout. He sighed in sadness and pushed the roses away, nervousness and guilt fuelling his mind and regrets.

"Shit," he sighed, picking up the wilted petals of a few roses that were littered on the floor, shoving them into the front pocket of his apron. He blamed himself for not having spoken to you to at least know your name. Quickly, Changmin walked around the counter to door, showing the “now-closed” store sign as remorse flooded his veins. He let his feet guide every single one of his moves, now finding himself in the storeroom. He took a pencil and his notebook sticking out of his bag before returning to the counter.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember your face and began a sketch. He erased a line, then two, then several, feeling the frustration overcome him as the portrait did not correspond to what he had seen a few minutes earlier at all. Changmin had a perfect image of you in his mind, but maybe the stress of forgetting you or his shaking hands prevented him from replicating your gorgeous face on paper.

Completely unaware of what was going on behind those four walls, you kept on walking around the neighbourhood until your feet hurt and decided to go back to your apartment.

__

The next morning you enjoyed the rays of sunlight that your curtains had failed to filter for a few minutes, smiling shyly as you remembered seeing the florist appearing in your dreams. He was here, you recognised his face, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He sounded extremely sincere and filled with love, but it was probably just your lonely mind playing tricks on you. You decided to get up, a sudden urge for pastry invading your thoughts, your stomach growling at the sudden idea. After dressing appropriately for going out, you walked through your doorstep and walked leisurely to your favourite bakery. The baker was sitting on a chair on the small terrace of her shop, sipping tea with who appeared to be her husband.

"Morning Sir. Ma'am," you bowed, greeting them warmly, the baker hurriedly setting down her tea mug to gently grab your wrist. "Dear, this is the young lady Jacob and his friends helped move in the brick building, around the street corner that I told you about. Remember that?" she explained to her husband, who took the time to swallow his sip while nodding. "Ah, the bottle of wine and the chocolate," he says looking at you and you smiled, as it was your turn to nod. "That's right," you stated, holding out your hand for him to squeeze, which he did delicately. “Thanks again,” you told them, and the baker waved her hand in front of her face, a genuine smile on her face. "Oh please, don’t worry about it, it's okay," she declared, and you thanked them again before entering their bakery. Jacob was behind the counter chatting with an old lady who seemed to waylay him. He noticed you and apologised to her, seeing him sigh before greeting you. Jacob was a sweet man, always ready to help everyone and too nice to say no. Talking and getting to know him was a piece of cake, he was so nice to hang out with and a gem to have around.

"Y/N, hello! What can I get you?" he offered you a beautiful smile, which he got from his mother, noticing another time the striking similarity with the old woman on the terrace. "I'm going to get a baguette and one of those," you say, pointing at a pain au chocolat sprinkled with powdered sugar in the little window that separated you from the young man. He smiled and grabbed a metal clamp, placing the pastry in a paper bag. Typing a few things on the machine, you handed him a banknote and he gave you back the change, along with your pastries. You thanked him and started to leave when a familiar figure stood at a table against the window.

Changmin was quietly drinking his coffee when he heard a conversation start from outside the window. He almost spat out the liquid he had in his mouth when he saw you talking with the owners of the bakery, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He pursed his lips to stifle a smile and continued to drink his coffee, tapping on his phone screen. His heart was hammering harder, faster, in his chest as he tried to keep a low profile, lowering his head in case you were to curiously look around the place. He sighed through gritted teeth when he heard your complicity with Jacob, feeling a touch of jealousy pinching his heart without intending to. Changmin nervously finished his cup of coffee in one sip, the warm liquid burning his throat, not bothering looking up. Stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket, he was ready to go when he saw you still in the store, immediately freezing as his brown eyes met your sparkling ones.

"Hello!" you told him with a smile, waving discreetly with one hand while the other clutched the brown bag against you. He blinked several times, your beauty and kindness bouncing around his skull. He answered you with a brief, serious nod and walked away without even saying goodbye to his friend behind the counter. You watched him leave out the window before turning to Jacob, who was looking at you with a thin smile on his lips. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked him, and he exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Not at all. Changmin is just a very shy person sometimes," he said, and you nodded, still a bit confused from the florist's behaviour, but you said nothing and walked out of the store after wishing for a good day to Jacob. The latter smiled as you walked in the opposite direction from Changmin, greeting another customer as he understood his friend’s behaviour.

__

A week passed and it was time for you to start your new job. You had used up a good chunk of your last salary to pay for furniture and taxes which you barely remembered the names of, so you needed to have a new entrance of income. You applied to a real estate agency that wasn't far from where you live, as a financial chief director, exactly what you worked at in your previous city. You had to walk past the florist to get to your new workplace, but the florist was the only closed shop on the whole street, which surprised you. You had the opportunity to talk a little more with Jacob, and he had confessed to you that Changmin loved his job and was a flower enthusiast, which confirmed your concern when you didn't see his store open.

A smile grew on your face at the end of the day, when you took the same path as this morning, seeing the shop illuminated. When you had assembled your furniture, you remembered that you wanted to decorate your apartment with more greenery and flowers. Seizing the opportunity that the florist was still open, you pushed open that same door you had walked through a few weeks ago, the same wonderful smell and tinkling bell welcoming you inside.

You noticed a brown chunk of hair behind a large, flowered wall, immediately recognising Changmin's slender figure. You heard him clear his throat as he hummed a tune, arranging a bouquet.

Changmin heard a customer walk into his store and finished his bouquet of sunflowers and red roses before revealing himself, his eyes opening widely as he discovered your innocent smile and your office outfit. The pencil skirt and beige suit you wore made his heart fuzzy with warmth, his mind only filled with how pretty you looked.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, and he nodded, swallowing his saliva before answering you. "Welcome," he said, his husky, uncertain voice melting your heart. He managed to smile, finding dimples growing in the corners of his mouth, he was handsome when he was smiling with reddened ears. "I would like to know if you have any flowers or plants to recommend to decorate my apartment," you clear your throat before telling him your request. "May I ask the colour of your walls?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking everywhere around the shop except you. "White, cream, and some in greyish tones as well," you explained and he nodded mechanically, looking through his stock.

"I can suggest you some dried pampas grass with cotton stems. It's... quite sober and low maintenance," he walked around the counter and you followed, his hands grabbing a few stems which he gathered under your nose. You liked the harmony of the two plants, you already had an idea where to put these at your place. "I like them a lot, I'll take a bouquet," you stated, and he nodded, giving you a small smile as he walked over to the cash register. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his finger hovering above a key. You saw him take a deep breath before disappearing into the back office, making you frown for an instant.

Changmin reappeared a few seconds later and you looked at him in shock, expecting everything but this. He held out an arrangement of sunflowers and roses in front of you, the warm tones of yellow and red reminding you of the summer warmth.

"It's for you," he said, holding your gaze, the tips of his ears turning a crimson red. You remained a few seconds dumbfounded in front of the bouquet, not knowing what to do. "For me? But in what honour? I don't deserve it," you stated but he insisted with a nod, so you shyly took the bouquet and gave him a big smile, your heart pounding. "That's so sweet, thank you very much," you told him, plunging your nose into the flowers, the scent of the two flowers blending beautifully together. He seemed to be breathing again when he discovered pure happiness in your eyes, giving you a big smile as well.

“You are as radiant as a sunflower, I… I wanted to gift you some,” he confessed, and you were touched by his words. “And the red roses… well, I don't think I should draw you a picture,” his voice trailed, and you were both embarrassed, but you could still feel some connection emerge between you two. Looking at the flowers again, you noticed a small card hanging at the base of the bouquet, and you flipped it to read it.

"A date to celebrate my arrival here?" you asked, surprised he knew this information about you. "Only if you want to, of course. I accidentally overheard your discussion with Mr and Mrs Bae, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to show you around the city," he scratched the back of his neck, an embarrassed look painted on his face, apprehensive about your reaction. "With great pleasure," he looked up and sighed in relief, making you smile at his behaviour. "Saturday morning in front of the bakery, is that okay with you?" "It's perfect." He smiled while nodding, his brown eyes lingering into yours for seconds that seemed to last forever, but he didn't feel so intimidated anymore.

He almost felt confident, and that only sounded promising for the days to come.

[uwua3]

Hello! Sunflowers hold a really special meaning for me so when i read the "sunflower dreams" My heart was so happy!! I havent felt this happy in a long time since quarantine started so thank you for taking the time to write it! It really made my day. If i could request a kazunari x reader where they're both artists that would be amazing. Maybe the reader can be a famous anonymous art influencer? Its up to you! Again thank you so much for writing "sunflower dreams" 💜

i’m so happy i could make you smile ‧⁺◟( ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ·̫ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ ) it’s messages like these that absolutely make my day! thank you so much for taking your time to even read it, i’m glad to know it touched your heart ♡ i hope you have a good rest of your day—please know all of a3! love you vvv much!!! ｀･ω･)9 i hope this makes your heart happy just like before! thank you, anon, for everything

summary: every time you fell in love, you made a new art piece

author’s note: please smile from this absolutely soft and endearing kazunari fluff! in times like these where negativity is all around us, it’s good to take a break and purposely give yourself happiness. i hope this is a light in your day and makes you experience all the goodness of love! ♡ — concept based on “to all the boys i’ve loved before”

word count: 3,389

music: i like me better – lauv

to everyone i’ve loved before.

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

you created art every time you had a crush so intense, you didn’t know what else to do

no matter how big or small it was, or how long or short it lasted, love is love. even if it was a random stranger you’d never see again or someone you knew for a lifetime, love is love

therefore, there was no exact total. because even if you didn’t remember every single person you’ve made art for, you clearly remembered what it was like experiencing the euphoria of love. the phenomenon of your heart selflessly beating for someone else. the attack of getting hit by cupid’s arrow out of no where. the rush of emotions unlike any other

love was everywhere and you made sure to create something that was a memory of it. that was when you decided to practice art after being unable to recall a person’s face a moment too long

it was your form of a love letter. a picture spoke a thousand words you couldn’t write, and art was the perfect way to convey that. online for everyone to see were your love letters in art form: portraits of everyone you’ve loved

you fell in love again and again, a new art piece posted soon over the years of your life. under the username, to-everyone-ive-loved, a lifelong project was in the works for all of social media to see

unknown to the rest of the world, you were the artist behind the blog “to-everyone-ive-loved” who created portraits from memory

but, you didn’t mean to fall in love with another artist as well

all it took was one comment and you were theirs

it was one of your most recent posts, a finished piece on a stranger you saw. you found yourself in veludo way, the ideal street to find people you’d never forget. after witnessing a sudden street act, only one actor caught your eye that day

you didn’t know his name, but you didn’t need to. you were in love

you immediately rushed home without a second thought, the inspiration and creativity infectious after watching him perform. something about his energy was wildly entertaining and bizarre, like a modern pop song as a person. he was effortlessly trendy, popular, and charismatic just from the few minutes you saw him

the moment he stood up on that street corner like it was a stage, all eyes were on him and he knew it. as you sketched into the day, you remembered the small details clearly. dirty blonde hair with no dark roots in sight, glittering green eyes, wide welcoming smile. he had the face of an actor, that’s for sure

when you posted it right after finishing, you didn’t expect any major attention. on average, your posts got 100 likes or so. while it was an impressive feat, nothing could’ve prepared you for that one comment

kaz-PIKO: i’m in love with your art ♡

as your popularity and fame grew before your very eyes, you clicked on his profile and realized it was him. the actor you had seen earlier at veludo way

you didn’t know what happened, but all you knew was you couldn’t forget this one person, miyoshi kazunari, no matter how hard you tried

no matter where you went, you couldn’t draw anyone else except that boy named kazunari. after scrolling through his entire instablam account, you found out he was an actor for mankai company’s summer troupe. he was a star in his own right, with a stage presence like the spotlight was constantly on him and a heart of gold

this was the first time you ever got so caught up on someone that they didn’t leave your mind. hours became days, and days began becoming a week before you let yourself follow him back

everyone you had ever drawn had never recognized themselves before. it was all because a follower connected the visual similarities between your art and kazunari’s unique traits that kazunari knew you had seen him before

if only he wasn’t a social media influencer with followers reaching the hundreds of thousands. at least, his popularity attracted attention to your profile...

this was a problem, however. because if you couldn’t draw anyone else, what could you do? once again, you stalked kazunari’s blog once again like it was a habit

it was never really a rule to make one love letter per person, but you never had wanted to make another for the same person. until, now

video after video. picture after picture. story after story. you could see kazunari’s face even when you closed your eyes. what about him made you daydream about him constantly? was it his charming voice that could make anyone stop and stare? his intricate piercings that were different every day? his ability to make you feel at home? whatever it was (or maybe it was an accumulation of everything and more), you had to draw kazunari again

when you posted it, you typically didn’t add more to the caption than the date and time. except this time, you felt like all your rules were being broken over someone who had no idea who you were

to-everyone-ive-loved-before: XX/XX/20 (3:33 A.M.) — social butterfly

you watched it upload. it was a piece you had never done before. glowing butterflies of all colors surrounded the center of the masterpiece, a smiling kazunari

hopefully, this would solve whatever feelings you were having and the world would go back to normal. you’d move on, fall in love with someone else, and repeat

it didn’t work, because some time later, you woke up to a comment that made you feel the butterflies in your stomach

kaz-PIKO: like a butterfly, i’ll fly to you, wherever you are~ ☆

and for some reason, you wanted kazunari to find you

you had never felt so motivated to draw before. however, your muse was the same. a beautiful boy named miyoshi kazunari who was slowly capturing your heart without even knowing it. you watched the pages in your sketchbook lessen and lessen. the corners of assignments and napkins and anything in between was covered in doodles. if there was a writing instrument in your hand, something related to kazunari would come out of it

it was a fascination. a fixiation, even. you had only seen one performance before falling in love. was it because kazunari responded that it made you feel like you had a chance?

you wouldn’t admit it, but it was becoming embarrassing with how much you were staring at the few unread messages from kazunari in your dm box. they came in right after you had followed him back, and more arrived when you posted the “social butterfly” piece

what was stopping you from talking to your muse? you knew the answer without thinking: what if these feelings were real?

obsessions and crushes come and go, but... love, love stayed. there wasn’t any possibility you could love someone from afar without knowing anything about them, right?

but, then again... you did know some things about kazunari. you knew kazunari was the best actor of all time, with expressions and gestures the equivalent of art. kazunari was art—in every single way possible. everything about him made you want to draw and draw and draw

you only drew kazunari for a certain time, no matter which stranger crossed your path. people you knew you would’ve sketched simply became passer-bys, and it was all because of kazunari’s sunny smile that you were in love. or, what you thought was love

the more you thought about kazunari’s unread dms, the more you wondered what this was. why did kazunari make you so happy? was this truly the first time you were experiencing... a crush?!

for the first time since that street act, you found yourself in veludo way. while half of you was hoping you’d randomly bump into summer troupe’s moodmaker, the other half was petrified about how kazunari was a real person. a very much popular, recognizable person

it was the weekend, and the burden of university projects was telling you to go back and focus. yet, with a sketchbook in one hand and a pencil tucked behind your ear, you were very much prepared to draw to your heart’s content

as you tried to flip to a clean page, you heard something that made your heart flutter. despite the noise and busy atmosphere of veludo, a distinct laugh was audible above the crowd. when you looked up, your eyes barely registered a deep blue jacket before walking straight into the person

you nearly tumbled to the ground before two hands steadied you, a surprised “whoa!” leaving their mouth before being followed by a gentle laugh. the usual embarrassment didn’t set in until you went to go thank the person, only to stop

oh my god. you had just bumped into miyoshi kazunari, your muse for the past month or so

kazunari grinned, even though it faltered slightly at your wide-eyed expression and awkward silence. he didn’t seem to mind as he adjusted his black top hat, pocketing his phone and confidently meeting your gaze

“i’m so sorry~! i hope you’re okay, i’m kazunari!” kazunari introduced and you realized he didn’t know you were behind to-everyone-ive-loved-before. you quickly adjusted yourself, pretending as if this wasn’t the highlight of your entire week

when you introduced yourself, kazunari’s eyes sparkled with interest as he easily led you into conversation. despite being a bit of a socially awkward artist who preferred being alone over anything else, kazunari was... comfortable. you didn’t feel self-conscious of how you acted, because he readily accepted how you were with a smile

was he like this was everyone or... did he find you to be a work of art, too?

standing off to the side, you finally noticed several members of mankai were advertising their latest play. bright, aesthetically pleasing flyers were being handed out to everyone walking by, and you seemed to look a moment too long before kazunari followed your gaze and suddenly snapped his fingers

“oh! are you interested in theatre?” you really weren’t, but you nodded anyways just to see kazunari’s excitement. he pardoned himself for a moment just to snatch a flyer, returning to show it off with a proud smile

“please come to mankai company’s summer performance!” kazunari’s smile sparkled and before he looked around to see if anyone was watching, he winked. kazunari covered the side of his face that was facing his troupe members, pretending as if you two were sharing some big secret

“plus, i’ll be there. if you come, i’ll make sure to do my very best~” kazunari bargained, even though you already knew he was already planning on wowing the audience with his charisma. you took in his genuine want to impress you and the butterflies came back

“i’ll come.” you agreed without even checking the date or reading anything. now all of you just wanted more & more opportunities as the person kazunari was surprisingly interested in, not as the artist who was basically in love with him

agreeing right away was worth it when kazunari shot you a grateful, blinding smile in return. you stumbled over your words with how taken back you were, but asked anyways, “do you like flowers?”

kazunari’s eyes softened for a moment, his usual energy suddenly gone before returning. he seemed genuinely moved by your question, and you wondered how many flowers it’d take to see him smile again like that

“i do, especially if they’re from you.”

“what kind?”

someone called kazunari’s name, insisting they were going to be late for practice. kazunari shouted back an agreement by telling them to go ahead first, before putting all his attention on you once again

“hibiscus.” meaning delicate beauty

before kazunari could ask for your socials, with his hand already reaching for his phone, you cut him off, hoping your voice wasn’t off

“next week. 7 P.M., mankai theatre. i’ll be there, front row.” you promised and took off, rushing off with a wave as kazunari stared after you for a second before waving back enthusiastically

as you left, kazunari was about to leave before he noticed something on the ground. it was a plain sketchbook, unassuming at first but it was nearly bursting at the binding with how many pages there were

when kazunari picked it up, he was about to flip to the first page before mankai called his name again, impatient this time. kazunari held onto the book and sent one last glance towards your direction before disappearing, hurrying to make sure the director wouldn’t penalize him for being the reason everyone was late

when you arrived home, you instinctually reached for the pencil behind your ear. at the same time, you put your hand in your bag, attempting to feel the familiar edges of your sketchbook

then, after turning your bag inside out and finding nothing, you collapsed onto your desk chair with shock and disbelief

you lost your sketchbook in veludo way the moment you met kazunari. what if he had it?

you drew another piece and stared at your screen, wondering if you should post it. it was kazunari once again with a yellow hibiscus flower behind his ear, the same gentle smile you couldn’t perfectly capture gracing his lips

you typed the caption and backspaced before settling on something that only you and him would know

to-everyone-ive-loved-before: XX/XX/20 (8:01 P.M.) — delicate beauty

you hesitated before deleting the post a second after. maybe, you’d keep some artwork to yourself

kazunari had the sketchbook open next to his bedside, his phone in his hands and your profile open. he could recognize your art style a mile away, and the moment he saw the first sketch after practice, he couldn’t believe it

did this explain why he felt such a natural attraction to you? when you bumped into him, kazunari swore he could see the sparks flying. you made him feel like he was falling in love and you only proved him right when you two talked earlier. he wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to see you again

was this what love at first sight felt like? kazunari giddily typed a message over and over again, the unread messages of his filling his screen

kaz-PIKO: heya!! ★>d(,,･ε´-,,)⌒☆ just wanted to say i LOVE your art fr!!! we should totes collab, you know???

kaz-PIKO: thanks for drawing me btw :0 does this mean you live near veludo? let’s meet up!!!

kaz-PIKO: ,,, i don’t usually say this but, that social butterfly piece was breathtaking. you must really like me, huh? (･ω<)☆ jk haha

kaz-PIKO: no but really, it’s beautiful. thank you, honestly. it made my day, you make me happy ♡

kaz-PIKO: you must be really beautiful, too. i would want to draw you as well. lmk if ur up for that haha

kazunari read back his previous messages, all of them delivered but unopened. he realized how... how open he already was with the anonymous faceless artist, despite never interacting with them

now that he knew what you looked like, it only reassured his intuition that he was rightfully head over heels for you

kazunari typed something before deleting it, closing out of instablam and throwing his phone somewhere on his bed

kaz-PIKO: i was right, you are beautiful. i may have fallen in love, too

some things were better left unsaid. after all, you two had until next week to figure everything out

for the rest of the week, all you and kazunari did were think about the other person. a small part of you was afraid kazunari wasn’t the dream boy you imagined, but he was much more. you noticed he started posting more often and turned his notifications, wanting to be one of the first to see his practice videos and university selfies

you didn’t post any of the art you made of kazunari, making it the longest you hadn’t posted ever. kazunari couldn’t help but refresh your account every now and then, hoping he’d see his face again, as selfish as it was. kazunari wouldn’t know how’d he feel if he saw someone else had your heart

the longer time went on, the more you were certain. every fascination you had with someone was temporary, and you remembered the feeling rather than the person. but, with kazunari, you liked him for who he was. everything kazunari made you feel was new and exciting, but even when that went away, you still liked him

kazunari was your first crush, for real

kazunari liked making people like him. so, your online confession through art wasn’t exactly a surprise. but, yours was different. it was earnest, honest, and everything he didn’t know he was needing

kazunari looked through your sketchbook again and again, tracing over the notes you wrote in the margins and admiring your skill

kazunari liked you, and he was certain he would’ve still liked you even if you weren’t to-everyone-ive-loved-before

when showtime arrived, kazunari was oddly nervous. peeking from behind the red curtain, kazunari could already see you were one of the first sitting front row, just like you said. he had practiced his lines a thousand times and summer was fully prepared, why was he nervous?

before he went on, kazunari ignored the urgency of the mankai staff and quickly texted a message to your profile, hoping you’d at least see the notification this time

kaz-PIKO: i like you, too

(when you felt your phone buzz, you quickly silenced it)

the show moved you to a standing ovation, just like everyone else in the audience. as summer walked out to bow and express their gratitude, you watched kazunari’s eyes search for yours as he tilted his head towards backstage. you nodded, knowing you’d do anything to see this kazunari. actor kazunari, who was on cloud 9 with his performance and glowing from praise

you wanted to see, to experience, to draw, all versions of kazunari

after the applause, you looked around backstage before feeling a hand on your arm, the feeling reminiscent of the first time you bumped into kazunari

“you came.” kazunari breathlessly stated, as if he was surprised. before he could say anything else, you presented him with a bouquet of hibiscus flowers. the same shade of yellow you drew him with

“of course, i wanted to see you again.” you honestly admitted, knowing it made you flustered. kazunari carefully took the flowers before grinning, gently placing then beneath his chin. he looked like a vision, you wish you could’ve asked him to stand still so you could capture this moment forever

“i wanted to see you, too.” kazunari softly said, all the energy of being on stage gone. it was tranquil and peaceful, like you two were the only people in the entire theatre

kazunari took a moment to admire you before realizing something, taking something from behind him and presenting it to you. it was your sketchbook on the bottom, but a smaller version was on top of it, signed in silver sharpie. kazunari’s signature was glittering like his eyes as you took it

“next time, let’s draw together.”

kazunari’s sketchbook was filled with you. anything from small doodles to encouraging messages was found inside, with tens of post-it notes of just thoughts about you. kazunari’s art was colorful and extremely out of the box compared to his usual traditional style. it made you smile

kazunari watched you flip through it, already knowing this was the greatest act of love he could’ve declared this early on. he anticipated for you to reach the end

when you landed on the last page, you saw a note

do you want go on a date with me?

“next time, respond to my dms! that way i don’t have to write everything~!” kazunari teased and you two shared a laugh, knowing everything was going to be okay

“yes.”

“yes...?”

“yes, i’ll respond to your dms. and yes, i’ll go on a date with you.”

eventually, you ended up closing your blog for good. your last post was a picture of you and kazunari, with one caption

to-everyone-ive-loved-before: XX/XX/20 (3:33 P.M.) — to the one boy i love now, i love you

kaz-PIKO: i love you, too ♡

[fanficflaneuse]

The Party

Index 

A/N: After a few days of going MIA, I’m back with a piece taken from two similar requests. I hope you like it. If you requested something, please be a little patient. I’ve had some rough days and I’m going back to my working mood :) 

Have a very nice weekend! 

Details:

Draco x sister! Reader / George Weasley x Malfoy! Reader / Harry x Malfoy! Reader (platonic)

Word count: 3460

Summary: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy aren’t home, so reader convinces her brother, Draco, to throw the party of the century. 

“Come on, Draco,” whined (Y/N), “it’s going to be fun!”

(Y/N) had been trying to convince her younger brother to throw a party. Their parents were in France on some distant relative’s funeral and wouldn’t be back for a whole other week. She figured that doing something fun with her brother would rekindle their relationship, which had been strained for years now.

Draco was two years younger than his sister. Before Hogwarts, they adored each other. Draco looked up to her and almost idolized her. Then, she was sent off to school. The sorting hat took a long time with her and ultimately placed her in Gryffindor, much to everyone’s dismay. (Y/N) could still remember, like it was yesterday, the fear that consumed her as she sent a letter to her parents. She was expecting a howler that would fill every corner of the castle with the news of her disownment. Their silence was deafening. For a week, she had nightmares with her father burning her face from the family tapestry.

Then, on the first Sunday after her arrival, Professor McGonagall guided her to Headmaster Dumbledore’s office. For a second, there was a glimmer of hope. Maybe it was all a mistake. Perhaps she could be sorted again and her parents would be proud. As she set foot on the headmaster’s quarters, though, her face fell. As she found herself face to face with her parents, she gulped. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore left them to talk, not without giving the first year encouraging smiles.

As (Y/N) and her parents stared at each other, she decided she’d show her courageous Gryffindor side. She had always been very rebellious. Even when she played the part of the perfect pureblood, deep down she knew it wasn’t something she wanted for the rest of her life. A lot of what her parents said also didn’t sit very well with her. And this was the decisive moment.

“Mother, Father…I’m sorry.” Regardless of how hard she tried, her voice cracked. Her vision became blurry a few seconds later.

“(Y/N), dear,” her mother said, engulfing the girl in her arms.

(Y/N) sobbed in her Narcissa’s shoulder. She thought she would never feel her mother’s embrace again, yet here she was, rubbing her back and all. The relief she felt was crushed by the fact that she still had to face her father. Narcissa wiped away her daughter’s tears and gave her a reassuring smile, like she had done so many times before. Lucius then came forward, his expression unreadable. He put his hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze.

“This was…unexpected, to say the least. But there is nothing to be sorry about,” he said. (Y/N) still couldn’t decide if this was a good or a bad thing.

“Y-you won’t disown me?” she asked nervously.

“Of course not! Where did you get that idea from?” her father said.

Both Narcissa and (Y/N) shot him an “are you serious” look. Everyone around them was way too keen on having their children sorted in Slytherin. Disownments, banishments and the likes were concepts that adhered to a pureblood’s vocabulary even before they could spell their names.

“My child, I can only imagine how scared you have been in the last few days. I am very, very sorry. If the sorting hat placed you in Gryffindor it is because you will be a great fit in that house. And that is it. Right, Lucius?” Narcissa’s voice was equanimous, but she eyed her husband sternly.

“Right,” he mumbled.

“We won’t lose a child to some tradition. We love you too much to care,” she continued.

That day, (Y/N) learned about her mother’s aunt Walburga and her cousin Sirius. Narcissa vowed to never repeat that story. Even if her father winced when she mentioned that she had befriended the Weasley twins, she knew they had her back. She left Dumbledore’s office feeling like the luckiest girl alive.

The bliss, though, only lasted a few months. When she went back home for the Christmas break, she noticed how something had changed between her and her brother. As much as her parents reassured her, she swore he treated her differently. The adventures around the manor ended, as he claimed they were too old for that nonsense. Every time they were alone, she felt guilt and shame around him, as though he was always judging her. It made her sad. And she found refuge in the letters she received from the Weasley twins, especially George, who had become her best of friends.

Things turned for the worse when Draco arrived in Hogwarts, strutting with a posse of eleven-year-old entitled purebloods like he owned the place. Of course, he was sorted into Slytherin. He never looked her way after that. (Y/N) guessed that now he was bothered by everything she did, everyone she befriended and everything she stood for. She decided not to let that get the best of her and instead shared love and friendship to her newly found Gryffindor family. George and Fred’s little brother, Ron, had come to his first year as well and she took his little gang under her wing, especially Harry who had been brought up by some horrible muggles.

As the years went by, as much as Draco tormented the golden trio, she comforted them. When he bullied them, she apologized. When he said mean things, she always had a comeback. She even told on him with their mother when he was particularly mean, warranting weeks without her famous the care packages.

This year, though, (Y/N) had decided to declare truce. When they got back for the summer, Narcissa locked herself with her daughter in the piano room. They talked for hours about everything and nothing. Narcissa begged her daughter to reconcile with her brother. She told her how afraid she was of her son’s fate now that it was very clear that the Dark Lord had come back. She knew that, if the time were to come, (Y/N) wouldn’t choose Voldemort and she wished with all her heart she could take her brother with her.

(Y/N) took this conversation to heart. She was about to start her last year in Hogwarts and she didn’t want to finish her school having lost her brother completely. She thought a party would be the best place to start. They could have fun together, an occurrence unseen for many, many years. Also, after four years of sneaking around with the golden trio and Fred and George, she realized that there’s an especial kind of complicity between people who shared a secret. She wanted that kind partnership with her brother as well.

After much convincing, Draco agreed. He was expecting a gathering with their pureblood friends and acquaintances, perhaps a very selected group of people to talk and gossip for a while. Maybe if she saw him in his element he could show his sister that he was also worth her time. Draco was definitely not expecting the avalanche of people that flooded the manor. All of a sudden, he was surrounded by people from all houses and blood statuses. The seventh years brought fire whiskey and muggle booze. The music was raging. He looked in disbelief as Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint raced their brooms in their mother’s garden. He was disgusted by two seventh year Ravenclaws getting handsy by the staircase.

As he walked around, he encountered some of his friends. Pansy was sulking because Daphne had ditched her to dance. Blaise had already joined in the fun and Theo sat on a sofa between a cranky Ravenclaw and a very shy Hufflepuff. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be found. 

“Are you having fun, Dray?” as he turned around, he saw her sister. One of the twins, who he didn’t bother to identify, had his arm draped around her shoulder.

He wanted to tell her that she was in big, big trouble. He hadn’t agreed to this. And how it was annoying and disrespectful and inappropriate and…then he saw the infamous golden trio behind her. They were talking to the remaining Weasley twin and eyeing his home in awe. If he had been pissed and annoyed at her sister, he now felt like he would combust in any second.

Draco shot his sister a murderous look.

“I thought you’d have some more respect for me and our home,” he said icily before storming off.

(Y/N) was very confused. Her friends eyed her worriedly. George held her closer to him.

“(Y/N/N), are you okay?” he whispered softly in her ear.

George and (Y/N) had a one of a kind relationship. They knew they liked each other. Back in fourth year, she had told him bluntly. He admitted his feelings as well. They had never made it official for reasons unknown even to them. They had shared a couple of kisses and sometimes they’d walk around with their arms wrapped around each other. They’d flirt a lot. And yet, if anyone asked them, they were both single.

Under different circumstances, she would’ve blushed a little because of how close he was. Maybe, she would’ve even flirted. Right now, her gaze was fixed on her brother’s retreating form.

“Should we leave?” asked Hermione sheepishly.

(Y/N) looked at her wide-eyed, realizing how rude her brother had been to them.

“Of course not,” she answered coolly, “I’m sorry Draco is so rude. Enjoy the party. I’ll go talk to him.”

The group scattered around. (Y/N) pecked George on the lips before she went to find her brother. She didn’t have to search too much; she knew exactly where Draco hid whenever he was upset. She walked up the stairs, were the party was just a distant rumour, and walked towards a godforsaken wing of the manor. After passing through a series of judgmental portraits, she pushed a heavy door that lead a spacious room. The only thing inside was a huge, empty wardrobe, which (Y/N) and Draco used as their own playground.

She smiled at herself, knowing that even if they had outgrown their playground days, that place remained a safe haven for both of them. She opened that door softly and found her brother huddled in a corner of the dresser, his face hidden in his arms. (Y/N) took a seat by his side.

“It’s been a while since we last played here,” she said.

“It’s a miracle you still remember,” he sniffled.

“How could I forget, starlight? It was our favourite hiding place,” she said fondly, calling him by a nickname she hadn’t used in a while.

Draco looked at her for a minute. She noticed his tearstained cheeks. “Well, now you’re so busy with Potter and your blood traitor friends, you hardly look my way anymore,” he countered bitterly.

Something clicked in her mind instantly. “Is that what this is all about?”

“You’re replacing me with Potter. Why wouldn’t you? He’s better than I am in absolutely everything. You send him presents, you cheer for him in quidditch, you’re always looking out for him. You’re like…like we used to be.”

Draco hid his face again in embarrassment. Once she heard his sobs, (Y/N)’s heart broke.

“I honestly hadn’t realized you thought that way until now. But I’d never replace you, starlight. You’re my brother. The things we’ve been through, the things we share, the memories we have together, those things have bonded us for life. It killed me every day to think that you hated me for not being the perfect pureblood sister. You’re the person I love the most and thinking that I wasn’t good enough for you…it made me so, so sad.”

Draco lunged forward and hugged (Y/N) tightly. “(Y/N), you’re my sister. Yes, you could be less boisterous, more proper…” (Y/N) raised her eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t change you for the world. I’ve missed you so much.” (Y/N) rubbed Draco’s back, like their mother did. She remembered what she said when they first arrived for vacations.

“I’ll always be here for you, Dray. And Harry’s not better than you. You’re just two different people. I won’t lie: I really love and appreciate him and I do try my best to give him some sisterly love because Merlin knows he hasn’t had much of that.” Draco tried his best not to scoff. “But you are my real brother. I don’t prefer him over you! And I’m here to reassure you, coddle you and hide in a closet while the party of the century is happening downstairs.”

Draco chocked out a laugh and hugged his sister tighter. He didn’t feel like moving just yet. (Y/N) understood he needed the embrace and so she stayed still, combing her brother’s hair with her fingers until he calmed down. She enjoyed the moment and realized how much she had missed the role of Draco’s big sister. He was such a gentle soul and even when they were kids she knew she had to be careful.

“I think…I think we can go downstairs now,” he announced timidly.

(Y/N) chuckled and nodded, refraining from teasing him. Once they were downstairs, her eyes met George’s. He sat in a circle with a bunch of people. She identified the golden trio, as well as some of Draco’s friends. Angelina Johnson was also in the group and so was Alicia Spinnet. (Y/N) dragged her brother to the circle.

“Be nice,” she mouthed to him as she took her place by George’s side.

“We’re playing spin the bottle,” said Lee Jordan before giving the bottle a spin.

A few rounds in, everyone teased (Y/N) on how she hadn’t kissed anyone. So far, Draco had given Katie Bell a peck which left him blushing. Ron and Hermione shared a sweet kiss. Harry kissed a giggly Daphne Greengrass. Theo smooched Fred, who also brushed lips with Angelina. Pansy Parkinson stamped her lips on Vincent Crabbe’s on what must have been the most dispassionate kiss of the night.  

After George and Alicia shared a quick kiss, it was finally (Y/N)’s turn. She had to kiss Blaise Zabini, on of Draco’s friends. She wasn’t very sure about kissing a younger boy at first. She asked him three or four times if it was fine with him, until he made the first move. The kiss started slow and shy and then Blaise grabbed her hair and pulled her to him. Her breath hitched and she kissed back passionately. How old was this boy and why did he have so much experience?

When they pulled apart, her head was spinning. Draco was looking at them, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Some people were cheering on them, particularly on Blaise. His friends were congratulating him on being a “ladies’ man”. Her friends were shocked. She still didn’t know what to make of the situation, until she realized George had left the circle. Fred couldn’t help to shoot daggers at her.

“Excuse me,” she said standing up.

At a distance, she heard Blaise boasting and Draco threatening him. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and walked through the sea of people in search of George. ‘Why do I keep chasing after people tonight?’ she groaned when she failed to find him within five minutes.

She went out to the gardens to try and think. (Y/N) sighed in relief as she recognized the familiar mop of red hair. George was pacing around. As soon as she saw his face of disappointment, she hated herself for accepting to that stupid game with that foolish boy. She should be dancing and having fun with her crush instead of having to mend broken hearts.

They stood in front of each other. George didn’t want to meet her gaze. For years, he thought that their arrangement was the best for them. The love and attraction were there and none of the drama. They could be partners in crime without the messy bits of a relationship. So far, things had worked in their favour. But seeing her smooching that Zabini git had made him change perspectives. For one, he was jealous. He hated every second of that awful feeling. And he realized he wanted to be (Y/N)’s boyfriend. He wanted everything, including the messy bits. He wanted dates in Hogsmeade. He wanted to take her home as more than just “the twins’ friend”. Now she had kissed that Slytherin and he felt like he didn’t stand a chance.

“I know Blaise Zabini could a better match than me,” he sighed.

(Y/N) eyed him quizzically. “What are you talking about?”

“We all saw how eager he was to kiss you. He might be a bit young now, but eventually he’ll probably try to date you and marry you and be the proper pureblood family you were meant to have,” he said his fists tightening with every word.

“Don’t be silly, Weasley,” she answered, moving towards him, “you know you’re the only one I want.”

She kissed him then. It was passionate and blissful. One of his hands travelled to her hair and his fingers tangled on her ringlets. The other hand squeezed her butt. (Y/N) moaned and bit George’s lip.

“Be my girlfriend,” he said against her lips before capturing them again.

“What are you doing to my daughter?!” roared Lucius Malfoy from behind.

Like a deer in the headlights, both teenagers turned around to face the Malfoys. Narcissa and Lucius looked at her, a mixture of rage and disconcertment in their faces.

“(Y/N) Narcissa Malfoy,” her mother’s voice was stern. She might be loved and spoiled by her parents, but the look they were giving her at the moment was one that assured a punishment to kingdom come.

(Y/N) noticed her little brother standing behind their parents, a smirk on his face. She guessed he washed his hands off the matter and was waiting to see her punished for their party.

“Bloody snake,” she muttered.

“Hey, don’t call me that! You got yourself in this missy,” he huffed in response, not even concealing the pleasure this was giving her.

“I thought we had magically rekindled our relationship?”

“We did. Does it mean I’ll magically take the blame for your mess?” he said smugly.

“Your friends are also here,” George retorted. He still had his hands on (Y/N), a fact the whole family was trying to ignore until he brought the attention to himself.

“What are you…what is…why are there…drunk people…my garden!” Narcissa was so taken aback she couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. Lucius was eyeing here warily; the only other time she behaved like this he had been banished from their room.

Narcissa went back inside, were everything was eerily quiet. The teenagers who just a few minutes ago had been dancing and drinking stared at the Malfoy matriarch. The music had stopped, just as any bit of conversation. She walked to her precious mahogany table in the common room, where the students had set all of the alcohol, and took a bottle of firewhiskey that hadn’t been opened yet.

“Everybody who I did not create, get out of my house right now!” She didn’t even raise her voice, but it had such a sharp edge to it that everyone in the grounds heard and complied. A sea of Hogwarts students ran out of the door.

George made a move to leave as well, but Lucius stopped him.

“No, you stay,” he said bitterly, “if you’re man enough to touch my daughter’s arse then you’re man enough to stay and listen to what I’m about to say.”

Both (Y/N) and George blushed profusely. Draco faked gagging and Lucius was about to start a lecture when Narcissa came back. She took a swig of the firewhiskey straight from the bottle. Lucius was glaring at George; but even as intimidating as he tried to be, the three teenagers saw how afraid he was of his wife’s glare.

“You,” she said motioning to George, “out.”

“Mum…” (Y/N) tried to intervene.

“Don’t you dare, (Y/N). Don’t you dare,” her tone was almost murderous.

George kissed (Y/N)’s cheek and walked out, biting his lips to hold in his laughter.

“When I wake up tomorrow my house better be pristine or you are going to be in a lot of trouble. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, mum,” (Y/N) answered, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“You two,” Narcissa motioned her husband and son, “to your rooms. Now.”

“But mum, won’t you punish (Y/N/N)? Look what she did when you were gone!” Draco pressed on, behaving in absolute Draco fashion.

Narcissa drank from the bottle again and Draco’s eyes widened.

“Listen to me, Draco. I am going to say something to you and I’ll only say it once: stop being such a little bitch.”

As soon as she said that, (Y/N) burst out laughing.

“I love you, mum,” she said.

“Don’t push it, (Y/N).”

Tags: @cleopatera @okaydraco @naomi02hook @the-hufflefluffwriter @the--queen-of-hell @honeymarvel @blisfvll @icintliviinyiniilsiji @gloriousrebelrunaway @heistmaster69 @victorialynn7 @inkhearthes @wollymalfoy

[dresupi]

Fred Weasley/Hermione Granger - The Sweater Song

1,283 words Rated T The Sweater Song - Weezer

~~~~~~~~~~

The yarn was stuck down in the carpet. Royal blue. It stood out against the crimson carpet in the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione frowned when she saw it, bending at the waist and pinching it between her forefinger and thumb.

“What’s that?” Ron asked, squinting. “It’s blue.”

“Well done, Ron,” Harry exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “Dunno what we’d do without you, mate.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two of them before visually following the blue yarn as far as she could, and then when she couldn’t do that anymore, she did what any responsible and curious girl would do.

She began to wind it into a ball, following the trail it left.

“Hey, Hermione,” Ron called. “If you’re going to ball up yarn, can me and Harry meet you in the courtyard later for Herbology?”

“Harry and I,” she said absently.

“What?”

“You said me and Harry, it’s Harry and I.”

Ron sighed. “Can we meet you later?”

“Of course, go,” she said, rolling the yarn as it went down the stairs.  The boys left, which mean she was on her own to wind up the yarn as she pleased. And as it happened, the yarn led her over both of the armchairs in front of the fireplace, weaving in and out of all the chair legs, sometimes wrapped around them once or twice over.  After that, it led up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, but it was bunched up in a wad outside one of the doors, so she stood there, rolling it before she kept going.

Along the wall this time, and out the Fat Lady’s portrait.

As she walked, she wondered what in the world could be at the other end of it, but it was as likely as not, someone’s jumper unravelling. But this was infinitely more interesting than listening to Ron and Harry talk Quidditch.

She liked it well enough, but it was all they bloody well talked about.

Perhaps mum was right. Maybe she needed girlfriends.

Well, there was Luna. She certainly wasn’t talking about Quidditch, was she? Wasn’t talking about much that existed in the realm of reality either, but no Quidditch, so that was a plus, wasn’t it?

By the time she got to the trophy room, she had a rather large ball of yarn, which would at least, in lieu of anything else, be a nice toy for Crookshanks.

She found the end of it in front of of one of the shelves along the north wall of the room, looking down at the ball in her hand and the place where she’d ended up.  It was sort of anticlimactic. But she supposed this could just be a side effect of being friends with the Boy Who Lived. Everything else looked boring in comparison.

But even though she was too close to the situation to be an accurate judge, she didn’t think finding nothing at the end of a line of yarn was very interesting regardless.

“You look almost disappointed, love.”

She glanced up and into the twinkling eyes of Fred Weasley. It was likely the yarn from one of his jumpers. Mrs. Weasley always made the twins blue jumpers for the holidays.

And she’d grown rather fond of Fred’s kind eyes, and that’s how she knew exactly which twin was standing before her. Not that George didn’t have kind eyes, but...

“I found it in the common room,” she said, “and on the floor... leading here... what was it? A prank?”

“What sort of prank would it be?”

“Is this going to unravel and choke me or something?”

“What kind of a prank would choke someone to death, Granger?” He sounded almost offended. Almost.

“Not to death, obviously,” she scoffed. “One can choke without dying.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t do that.” He crossed both arms over his chest, noticeably sans jumper.

“I know you didn’t lose it,” she replied. “It was wound around table legs and the ike. Unless you were slithering on the floor like a serpent.”

He chuckled. “Correct again. I didn’t lose it. It was intentional.”

“Why then?” she asked. “I’m certain I have no idea.”

“Just to see who would roll it up. You know it’s been there for hours. It’s a bloody shame, it is. Not a single one of those Gryffindors tried to help.”

“And what? The person who rolls it up is pure of heart?” she asked.

“Something like that.”

She shrugged and handed him the yarn ball. “Have fun wearing that to class.”

“I think it’s lovely. You shouldn’t be so disparaging about my mum’s work, you know. Just in case she’s enchanted the yarn to report back to her or something.”

She laughed. “Have a good day, Fred.”

“You too, Granger... say... can George and I get your ideas on a few things?”

Ah, so that was it. It had been a test. And she’d passed. And now they wanted to pick her brain.

“That depends,” she replied.

“Upon?”

“My payment,” she said, sniffing.

“Payment?” he asked laughing.

“Yes. I see you two making money. I’d like a cut. And if so, you can have all you’d like of my brain,” she replied with a smirk.

One Fred returned. “You’ve got it, Granger. I’m holding you to it though.” He held out his hand and she shook it. “All of your brain that I want.”

She grinned. “And George as well.”

“He’s not here, though...” he said, looking around. “It’s just me here. And you shook my hand.”

“Fine. Just for you, then,” she said, grinning.

Fred smiled too and jammed his free hand in his pocket, bouncing the yarn ball in his hand. “Just for me, huh? Whatever will I do with the cleverest witch in the Wizarding World?”

Hermione wasn’t great at this, but she didn’t have Harry and Ron here to make her feel self-conscious or poke fun at her responses, so she attempted a bit of bravery.

“I suppose you’ll do whatever you want with her,” she said slowly.’

“Within reason,” he replied quickly.

“Oh of course, Fred. That’s what you’re known for. Your reason.” She winked and he blushed again, stammering a bit as he dropped the yarn ball. It rolled across the floor, unravelling a bit as it went.

“Say, ummm Granger... next weekend’s a Hogsmeade weekend.”

“It is,” she replied, watching the yarn ball unravel a bit more.

“You and I, we could meet at the Three Broomsticks and uh...”

“Talk about my ideas on some things?” she filled in for him, giving him an out because he looked so very discomforted by their conversation.

“No,” he said softly. “Figured we could have lunch.”

“You and I?” she asked.

“Yeah, is that okay? Or would you rather George were there too?”

“You know I don’t mind George...” she began.

“I’ll be sure to tell him. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about him.”

“I don’t mind him,” she continued, “But if given the choice between you alone or both of you, I’d have to choose you alone.”

He smiled and bent to retrieve the ball of yarn. “I’ll meet you there around one, then?”

“I’d like that,” she confirmed.

“Brilliant,” he exclaimed, turning to leave, boucning the yarn ball in his hand as he left.

Hermione took a deep breath and tried to stop beaming as she waited for him to clear off before she left as well, she had to run back to the common room and gather her books for herbology. And hopefully not give away what she hoped to keep secret for a while at least.

She supposed what she’d found at the end of the yarn wasn’t so anticlimactic after all.

[faraway-in-headspace]

I?? I searched Chicken Choice Judy on google out of curiosity because it sounds oddly familiar like there’s a similar-sounding name and I found 4 websites selling the shirt design. But the descriptions on these pages are BUCK WILD??

Written version of the descriptions under the cut (very long).

[Begin ID

First image states:  Long ago, when I had hair, I was an undergrad living in a house with nine other men. Near as I can tell, three of them (not sure which three) never bought food, just lived off what they stole from the Chicken Choice Judy shirt But I will love this other seven. We had several house meetings about it, but nothing changed. One day, I came in from grocery shopping. By coincidence, all 10 of us were in the kitchen. I started putting my stuff away. 1st thing I pulled out of the bag was my half-gallon of milk. I opened the carton, took a couple of drinks from the carton, then gargled some of it, and spit it back in. I opened my tub of margarine and licked the whole surface. By now, the room chatter had stopped because the other nine jaws had dropped open.) To your original question, those specific topics would take several years to build, as they depend on several layers of pre-requisites, which would require either that more advanced topics such as algebraic topology to be taught in elementary school, or that the buildup process happened blazingly fast during high school – both of which probably stretch the biological limits of what pre-teens and teenagers can reasonably be expected to accomplish. I spit on all my veggies, took the bread out of the package, and licked and spit on it, then carefully put it all back in the plastic bag. Remind teenage daughters to look through them before going on date with the boyfriend, in case they want to use one. I labeled it all and put it away. None of it was stolen. I never said a word, but I made it a point to repeat the performance anytime anyone was around to see it. Others began to emulate my approach and food theft stopped. Even I found it revolting, but it solved the problem. Works even better if you are sick or can at least make your thieving roommates think you are. While some cities are starting to reopen in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic, people around the country are continuing to wear masks in public and practice social distancing. Vogue is committed to staying safe, and offering hopeful, optimistic content that highlights moments of camaraderie and exceptional acts of heroism from around the world. We are all looking for a little comfort too—be it a soothing Instagram account or a stylish creator on TikTok. It reminds us of the power of little things.

Second image states:  A couple of guests informed me my office was too minimalist and that they expected more things to be hanging on my wall the Chicken Choice Judy shirt besides I will buy this next time they visited my wife’s and my home. I kinda hope they held their breath while they were waiting for our next invitation. They both went on to backstab me and my wife pretty bad a few years later. Another set of guests tried to squat. I had driven them all the way from Florida to Massachusetts under the impression that they had jobs and a place to live lined up. They offered no money for gas, hotels on the three-day trip, or compensation for the inconvenience and effort. He even tried to weasel out of the dinner he offered as a thank you by forgetting his wallet. The dude got me off the streets years ago and I wanted to pay him back in some way, but my wife and I were in no position to have extra residents in our home. We just don’t have the room or money. I made all of this VERY clear and told my old buddy that we could only house them for a couple of days max. There are MANY other details, but the disrespectful thing my former friend said was wordless. As I was kicking them out and they were angrily loading stuff into my car to bring them anywhere but here, my buddy left his gigantic knife right in the center of my wife’s desk. Like that was supposed to make us change our minds and let them stay? In the days of dial-up, I had a family call and not be able to get through because we were online. They decided to show up unannounced. They literally caught me in my underwear as they were let into the apartment before I could even react to being rudely surprised. Some of my family members have a history of abuse, violence, and stalking, something at least one of the visitors, my mother, was quite aware of since she lived through it with me. Her tagalong friend decided to put in her two cents and tell me I should get a call waiting or a second line because they were trying to call me. That did it! I suddenly forgot I was just wearing underwear and angrily asked my mother’s friend if she was paying my phone bill. My mother-in-law, stepfather and mom’s friend beat a hasty retreat and NEVER did the pop-in ever again.

Third image states:  That was why when we did get to reality shows, Etro and then Dolce & Gabbana plus Jacquemus later in France, it was wonderful. Clothes are all about contact: As a wearer, you feel them on your skin, and as a watcher, you process them with your eye. The watching part can be done secondhand, but the Chicken Choice Judy shirt in contrast I will get this impact will always be second to the real thing. I read some commentators in the U.S. saying, “Too soon” or “Wear a damn mask!” which I always did, but these opinions while valid enough lack perspective. Milan and its surrounding region Lombardy went through what New York did but earlier. Through sagacious governmental management much more effective than that of the U.S., Italy has managed dramatically to flatten the curve across the rest of its territory. These shows just like the reopening of flights, stores, factories, and restaurants were symptomatic of recovery that, far from being taken for granted, is being tended to with vigilance and cherished with gratitude. The digital Fashion Weeks were better than no Fashion Weeks at all, but as an upgrade on the real thing? Nah. Like everyone, I missed the shows in the experiential sense this season. But for the first time since I began covering the collections several years ago, I didn’t miss a single brand or designer’s contribution to Paris Fashion Week. Which is to say, thanks to the Fédération’s online platform, I was able to watch every name on the haute couture and men’s calendars. This brand on-demand convenience not to mention being spared the logistical headaches of zigzagging across the city was pretty great. Also, everything was on time, from the films to the manner in which we filed our reviews. While efficiency can be satisfying, it’s not necessarily exciting. Ultimately, we had to accept that the focus this season wasn’t going to be the clothes but rather the brands conveying some combination of identity, process, and values. And in the absence of standardized criteria as in, showing a minimum number of looks, specifying a time range, it was interesting to observe how heterogeneous these experiments proved to be quasi–ad campaigns versus short films, conceptual or fantastical visions versus raw and documentary style. A proper kimono takes nearly an hour to put on – I’m sure most Japanese girls would much rather spend a few seconds and slip on a dress. Get survey responses from targeted consumers today.

Fourth image states:  Around a decade ago, not long after he started his own label, Massimo Alba made a great mistake. A batch of shirts and T-shirts he was working on that had already been garment-dyed one color were mistakenly exposed to another. Speaking at his showroom presentation this weekend, Alba said: “It’s very interesting to me that so many good things start out as mistakes like this.” That accident was to Alba what the Chicken Choice Judy shirt moreover I will buy this mold-infected petri dish was to Alexander Fleming: a stumbled-upon eureka that led to a career-defining course of the investigation. This collection featured a series of softly tailored jackets, corduroy pants, and shorts, plus light cashmere sweaters that were hand-overdyed two, and sometimes three colors. It’s a process that led to variations in tone that included acid-trip floods of purple on purple to subtle bleeding of magenta across mustard yellow. Like most of Alba’s garments, these dyed pieces appeared at first glance conventionally prosaic. The more attention you gave them, however, the more their exceptional qualities became evident. Take a pale blue jacket, for instance, which at that first glance seemed passingly related to a surgeon’s scrubs. To the hand it was light and almost textureless in its softness: The fabric was a cotton mousseline developed for Alba by Albini. Long-sleeved, in a delicately mottled finish of washed-out sky blue, it made for an ideal mid-summer shake in pink, sleeveless, it was an impactful shirting second skin. Other interesting developments this season included a cotton pant named the Myles with acutely kinking stitched gather at knee-level on both legs and another handsome pant, baggy in white poplin, with patch pockets. A blue tropical weight jacket named the Lenny, after Bernstein, was Alba’s interpretation of a bohemian creative’s ideal piece of workwear. Collarless shirts in ripstop linen and button-up short-sleeves in terry were further finely effective coups de théâtre. Alba is a self-deprecating yet dangerous designer: Try just one carefully chosen piece and that’s it, you’re spoiled for good because nobody else quite compares. The museum in Prague where this portrait is held describes the ring on her first finger as the ring given to her at her wedding. It’s not comfortable. Maybe a lot of girls think that a see-through blouse can attract the attention of boys or they think that it will make her look much smarter. Meghan has no dress sense: no knowledge of fabrics, fit, styles that flatter, proper tailoring, Her father raised her in L.A. Enough said. Her idea of dressing for an event is “dress up” like a little girl dressing up as a princess. Shiny! Tight! Celebrity “fashion” not elegant, just flashy.

/end ID]

[4evamc]

Misha Tweets

Transcript

Ed Levine: Welcome to Special Sauce 2.0. Serious Eats podcast about food and life. Every week on Special Sauce we begin with Ask Kenji, where Kenji Lopez-Alt, Serious Eats Chief Culinary Consultant, gives the definitive answer to the question of the week that a serious eater like you has sent us.

J. Kenji Lopez-Alt: Generally, sort of like delicate leafy herbs like cilantro, parsley, basil, they tend to not be very good in their dried counterparts. Thyme, rosemary, oregano, they actually work pretty well in their dried forms.

EL: After Ask Kenji, a conversation with our guest, today in house, Misha Collins. He is, of course, an actor best known for his role as the angel, Castiel. Did I pronounce that right?

Misha Collins: Castiel.

EL: On the CW television series Supernatural, and has now written with his wife Vicki Collins, The Adventurous Eaters Club: Mastering the Art of Family Meal Time.

EL: Now it's time to meet Misha Collins. He's, of course, an actor best known for his role as the angel, Castiel?

Misha Collins: Castiel.

EL: On the CW television series Supernatural, which has had an insane run, right? It's like 2008 to 2019.

MC: Yeah, we're in our 15th season right now.

EL: That never happens.

MC: No, it doesn't. I don't know why they kept us on the air.

EL: Collins is also the co-founder and board president of Random Acts, a nonprofit organization dedicated to funding and inspiring acts of kindness around the world. He's also a published poet. Very impressive dude.

MC: Thank you.

EL: And has now written with his wife Vicky Collins, The Adventurous Eaters Club: Mastering the Art of Family Meal Time. So welcome to Special Sauce, Misha.

MC: I'm very happy to be here.

EL: So the first question I always ask, in your case it's particularly relevant, is tell us about life at your family table growing up. Your family table was not exactly traditional.

MC: That is true. I was raised by a single mom. My parents separated when I was three years old and I visited my father on every other weekend for most of my childhood, but he wasn't really a cornerstone of my upbringing. But my mother and my brother and our dog were a very tight family unit, and we lived in Western Massachusetts primarily growing up and moved a lot. We were in a new home I would say on average once every nine months or so. I think I lived in 15 places by the time I was 15.

EL: So you were like an Army brat, only you were a different kind of brat.

MC: Right. An Army brat without the parents building up a pension plan.

EL: Right.

MC: Another thing I think that an Army brat family has is a cadre possibly, of other kids that are going through the same experience, and I was generally going to a new school every year and meeting kids that were in fairly stable childhoods and who knew one another and who were familiar with the school, so I was always approaching schools and new towns-

EL: You were the permanent new kid.

MC: Yeah, with a little bit of trepidation, and trying to figure out how I could ingratiate myself to the new communities and the new schools. My mother was very eccentric and iconoclastic. She talked about the revolution a lot. I was born in 1974, and we lived through a tumultuous political time in our country, and she didn't want to have us grow up being conventional young men, so she would do things like dress me up in pink tights and paint my nails and send me off to Cub Scouts. Which I think in 2020 might actually fly, but in a working class community in Massachusetts, when you show up at Cub Scouts in the boys' locker room with nail polish and long hair-

EL: Not so much.

MC: And pink tights, you're ostracized. So, I kind of had to find a way to blend in and disappear a little bit as a kid in new schools, and I think that it built a lot of character in a lot of ways, and made me more resilient and adaptable and independent than I otherwise would have been. But at the same time, there's a certain lack of stable foundation that was challenging.

EL: I had not the same kinds of travails in my own childhood, but you do become resilient and eminently adaptable, but it also has a cost. It exacts a cost that you can't deal with as you're going through it, but you almost have to deal with it at some point in order to really resolve some of the issues that came out of it, I assume.

MC: Yeah. I'm sure you've found the same thing, but I feel like I'm a 45-year-old man and I'm still discovering things and unpacking them and repairing them, I think. There are definitely things that you take away from a childhood like that that give you real strength.

One of the things that I love about my childhood is that I know that you don't need money to be happy and you can get by on just about nothing, and that gives you, I think, quite a bit of power going into the world because you don't feel beholden to the comforts of ... I don't feel beholden to the comforts of money. I'm okay with scarcity. At the same time, I don't know that I was really terribly good at connecting with people or making friends, and I probably still struggle with that.

EL: Yeah. So, you wrote this amazing piece in The Times, and you wrote that “times were often lean, but one luxury we always had an abundance was food, even if it came by the five finger discount. My mother taught me how to steal peaches from the Stop and Shop grocery store when I was four. We were stealing from the man. It was a justified rebellion against an unjust system.”

EL: So, whoa. Okay, those sentences made me stop in my tracks. That's pretty intense. I was actually thinking about this movie, Shoplifters. I don't if you've ever seen it.

MC: Oh yeah. Yeah.

EL: Because in there the father figure, who turns out not to be the father, teaches the kids how to steal so they can eat. And so, wow. I mean, talk about that. Talk about getting conflicting messages from your mother. It's like, whoa.

MC: It's funny, because now hearing you read that, it paints a portrait of a parent who was raising children without a moral compass, and I think that was not at all the case. This was righteous rebellion. We were stealing ... We would never have stolen from the local co-op, but this was from a corporate entity, and these corporations were out to exploit the proletariat. I actually felt the exhilaration of feeling like I was part of a rebellion at that point, and frankly indoctrinated into that at a really young age. At the age of four, I was aware that it was us against them. We were the little guys and that we had a justice on our side. At the same time, it's a complicated thing to be training a little four year old how to steal.

MC: I have a very distinct memory of the fruit island in the Stop and Shop, and me grabbing a peach. This was the first time that I remember ever shoplifting anything. I grabbed the peach and then I ducked down behind the island, and my mother said, "No, no, no, no, no. You can't do it like that. You have to take it. You have to be very calm. You have to not look around. You can't show that you're distressed at all or that you're nervous, and then you put it in your backpack." Then we would go up to the cash register and we would pay for some of the groceries, so that we were distracting them, and then scoot out the door.

EL: And you just, I assume, felt that there was nothing particularly abnormal about this because you had nothing to compare it to.

MC: Right. Yeah, this was my normal.

EL: Yeah. You weren't stealing from somebody or something that needed the money, you were stealing as part of an ethos. Right?

MC: Right.

EL: As part of like, this is the way we work the system to fight the man.

MC: Right, precisely. Yeah.

EL: You also wrote, and I'm going to quote a couple of more sentences from the piece because it was so beautiful, "My upbringing taught me you didn't need money to be happy, that you didn't have to play by the rules, that the whole world was just begging to be explored. But now by the hindsight of fatherhood and from the comfort of a therapist's couch, I see that while my childhood had been rife with adventure, it also had been lonely and frightening and wanting." So you were always reconciling those two things, weren't you?

MC: I wouldn't say I was always reconciling them, because as a child I struggled at times. I felt sad and lonely, but I didn't think that it was because of my childhood.

EL: Got it.

MC: I thought my childhood was full of adventure, and I was proud of my childhood. Up until when I was 25 I don't think I looked back on it and thought that there had been any damage done by that.

EL: Right, and that there was anything dysfunctional about it.

MC: Right. And on balance, my childhood was incredibly ... I think I had a secure attachment with my mother. My mother was there. She was loving. She never failed to convey that love to me and my brother. So she served as my anchor emotionally, and that was unfailing. But because the rest of our life was so fractured and so nomadic, she was my only anchor.

EL: Yeah, because as you said, how do you establish connections with any kids when you're moving every few months?

MC: Right, and when you're showing up at school in pink tights at a working class school you're also getting alienated by your peers, and so the other kids actually ended up being kind of frightening to me.

EL: I read your Wikipedia page, and somehow you escaped and you ended up at a prep school, Northfield Mount Hermon, and then the University of Chicago. What a narrative your life has been. How did that happen?

MC: Now that you're asking the question, I'm reflecting on it possibly for the first time. But one thing that I know happened as a result of my childhood and and partly as a result of feeling like I wasn't fitting in with other kids, is that I was a smart kid and I could win the favor of my teachers. So when I was in school, I did very well in school. It was like the thing I could throw myself into and be safe and get some accolades.

EL: Some positive feedback.

MC: And some positive reinforcement. So I did well in school, and we lived in the town of Northfield for a little while, which was where Northfield Mount Hermon is. They had a program that had been implemented from the inception of the school where local day students could get pretty much a full ride if they were in need, and we were in need, so I could go to a fancy high school for free as a day student. Then I ended up basically getting the same deal at the University of Chicago.

EL: Amazing.

MC: Yeah. At the time, I thought I was going to go into politics, so I was sort of on a very clear path. And that wanting to go into politics was also born of my childhood and of my mother talking about politics all the time, and making me and my brother very aware of the plight of people in need in our country and around the world. It felt like that was the right place for me.

EL: Yeah. Again, and this is the final sentences I'm going to read from the Times piece, because it gets us back to food. Which is, "I recently found an old journal in a box in the back of my closet, and on the page from a decade ago where I had taken inventory of the good and bad of my upbringing the word cooking is circled and underlined with urgency in the plus column, as if I was thinking that food had been the cornerstone of happiness in my youth." Elaborate on that. I mean, that's an amazing statement.

MC: I think as a nomadic family, we moved around and we brought with us what we could, and in terms of material objects, there was very little that was a through line. But we did bring with us from place to place the tradition of sitting down for family meals every night.

EL: Even if you were in a teepee or in a park.

MC: Right. Even if we were sitting on a log in the woods in the rain, we would be sitting down and eating together. There were no distractions. There was never a television on, and there was no coercion in getting to the dinner table. There was no question about it. Not because it was an edict from an authority figure, but because we all just coalesced around dinner and loved it.

EL: You needed it.

MC: Yeah.

EL: It was a permanent form of glue for the family, right?

MC: Yeah. It really was important to us. We would go spend Christmas with my mother's mother, my grandmother, and she was a cook as well, and food was a centerpiece of that family interaction. And for me now that I have kids, I notice that when I'm feeling like a guilty or absent father, the way that I most quickly show my affection and love for my kids is I just make them food. It's like the way that I know to convey to a child everything's safe, everything's okay, and I love you.

EL: Yeah. But in 21st century America, and maybe all around the world, it's hard to do that, right? There are lots of pressures that are forcing people not to eat together.

MC: Right.

EL: Both parents are working, kids are all over the place. But you obviously, I think as a result of your upbringing, it was important when you had a family and a wife that you made that same time for dinner.

MC: Yeah. It feels very important to me. I think sometimes I'm actually kind of maybe forcing my agenda of cooking on my kids. Like, "Come on guys, let's make something in the kitchen." A lot of times they want to go outside and I want to work in the kitchen, and I have to check myself and say, "Okay, we'll go play a little bit of soccer first before we get to canning the pears."

EL: Right. Because the act of eating a meal and preparing it is imbued with so much more meaning for you than it is for them.

MC: Yeah, I think that's true. Yeah.

EL: So you end up being an actor, and I'm just assuming that like all actors, you struggled for many years before you found yourself on the set of Supernatural. So, tell us in a few sentences the arc of your acting career.

MC: Well as I mentioned earlier, my intention after college was to go into politics. I interned at the White House and I got a job at NPR in Washington, DC, and I was really disappointed with what I saw at the White House, and I thought, "Oh God, I have to come up with a whole new plan here." I thought it was going to be the best and the brightest minds under one roof. This was the Clinton administration. And instead what I found was the halls were filled with people who were sycophants, whose parents had donated money to the campaign. They were all yaysayers. There was no real discourse about political ideas, which of course is actually what you need in an administration. You need people who are going to be in lock step and are going to support your decisions, but I was too young and naive to know that.

So when I saw it, I thought, "This is not for me." I thought, "I will try to find another way that I can have an impact." I think there's a lot of hubris in this, but I thought, "I know what I'll do. I'll become an actor. I'll get famous and then I'll parlay my celebrity into some sort of political influence."

EL: Oh, because that happens all the time.

MC: Right. I mean really, really completely naive, and totally full of myself. Then I moved to LA and I thought it was going to take a couple of years to attain a certain level-

EL: To become rich and famous.

MC: To be rich and famous. And it took a long time to become-

EL: It took a decade, probably.

MC: To become moderately comfortable and a C-list celebrity. But somewhere along the line I stopped thinking about that end goal of I'm on this path so that I can have influence, blah blah blah, and I just started becoming an actor, and I was just acting for the sake of acting and not for this aspirational, high-minded goal.

Then a couple of years ago we got a new president, and that lit a fire under me. It was actually during the campaign when I started to think, "Oh, Trump might get elected. Oh, this is serious," and then my C-list celebrity started to come into play and I thought, "All right, well I can use the platform that I have."

EL: By the way, I think it's at least B-minus, okay?

MC: Well you, as everyone knows, grade on a curve, so thank you for your charity. In a strange way it feels to me a little bit like it's come full circle, and now that the show's ending and after 15 seasons I'm asking the question, "Okay, how can I be of use in the world?" I don't know what's next for me. I don't know if I spend a lot of time on television sets after this or not. I'm trying to do some soul searching and figure out what I really want to be when I grow up. But that's, in a nutshell, my path.

EL: It's an amazing path, and you accomplished much more as an actor than almost any actor I know. To be a working actor and to have made some money doing it is actually an incredible accomplishment, and maybe it's to the resilience you discovered you had in your childhood.

MC: Yeah, I think possibly. I think obviously there's a lot of dumb luck that comes into play. It's not my fault that the show that I'm on has been on for 15 seasons or has the devoted fan base that it has.

EL: There are conventions for Supernatural. I notice this-

MC: We have conventions. There are tattoos with face on them. I mean, it's hard not to be full of yourself in this context. But yeah, we have a really, really devoted fan base, and it's quite remarkable to be a part of.

What was it? I think it was Freakonomics at one point. Maybe it was in the book Freakonomics, but they said that pursuing a career in acting is like pursuing a career as a drug dealer. It's very, very difficult to be one of the kingpins, to be successful in the field.

EL: Right.

MC: The odds are so bad that it takes a certain personality that's defective that wants to even pursue that in the first place, because 99 out of 100 people are going to fail at that and then you're just going to be a low level street corner drug dealer, or barely getting food on your table as a background actor.

EL: Yeah. Well Misha, we have to leave it right here for this episode of Special Sauce, but you're going to stick around and tell us all about your two terrific kids, West and Maison.

MC: We just say Mason.

EL: West and Mason.

MC: Yes, we anglicize the French spelling.

EL: And your wife Vicki, and your family collaboration on The Adventurous Eaters Club. Thank you for spending so much time with us on Special Sauce.

MC: Thank you so much for having me, and I can't wait to talk about the book.

Listen to the podcast here

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 10 - Confessions

Summary: You start ignoring George, not knowing what to do. After he fails getting a straight answer from you, he decides to pour his heart out and he finally tells you how he feels

(I read the potion idea in a fic a long time ago, it gave me inspiration to this chapter and the whole series :) )

Warnings: Angst, few swearwords, Fluff, Fluff, Fluff

Word Count: 2.9K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

You woke up feeling miserable. After you opened your eyes you didn’t get up immediately; you just lay there, thinking through yesterday in every single detail. You decided to skip breakfast and George had detention today so if you’re smart enough you can avoid him all day. Get food from the kitchen, spend the day in the Room of Requiremnet. That’s it.

You felt guilty for planning on how to avoid George but you had no other choice. You had to think things through. You thought of yesterday’s Hogsmeade trip as a test and you felt like you’d got your answer. You had believed — or at least had hoped — that if something happened, it would be in Hogsmeade. You had spent a whole day together for God’s sake!

But nothing happened. You were talking, you had fun, drank a few butterbeers but nothing more. You were too scared to do anything — but you’d hoped he would do something. Kiss you. Or just hold your hand. Anything. Yeah, you were messing around the snow but that was just a game. A stupid game. A small voice of hope in your head said, ‘But he was calling you all those names. Darling. Love. What was that?’

A horrible thought started forming in your mind. What if — what if he was just teasing you? He didn’t mean it, of course he didn’t mean it. Why would he? He probably has pet names for all the people he talks to. He was just making fun of you. Would that be it? Was he just playing around, not caring about how much it hurts you? How much his wordplays hurt you? Was this just a joke to him?

Well, it didn’t really matter at this point. He hadn’t confessed anything to you. Fred  had misinterpreted a lot of things, apparently. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter anymore. George had made his choice — did he even have to make one? You felt horrible, thinking about how you were longing for him and he might had never thought of you as more than a friend.

You were on the verge of crying, but you stood your ground against your tears. Instead, you took some deep breaths. You musn’t let things go out of control. You still have your exams. You have to focus on those. You do your best. You will study in every free minute you have, write your exams perfectly, and over the summer you forget about the ginger boy.

Over the summer. The sentence made your heart ache. You closed your eyes. Every spring was like a torture to you. As the weather started getting better and better, the inevitable summer ‘vacation’ was looming over you. After this year it was more horrible than ever. You didn’t want to go home — but you felt like you were also unable to stay here with George.

There was no other way — you had to distance yourself. Right now. It’s gonna be horrible. But in order to get over him, this was the only solution you had.

You spent the day in the Room as you planned — and then the day after, and the day after, and so on. First, George didn’t seem to notice; you were always pretending to be in a hurry, only talking a few words with him at every meal, running to your next class. But as the second week of April had ended, he seemed to be a bit more persuasive.

“Come on, Y/N” he said one day at lunch. “I barely see you. Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eating as fast as possible. “I am lagging behind. I need to study.”

“Then go up to the astronomy tower again? Just for an hour?”

“Sorry,” you said, this time more quietly. You locked eyes with Fred who had a very disapproving look on his face.

“You’re avoiding him!” he said one day when he caught you after Charms. “He’s a mess! Driving me crazy, seeing him like that! He thinks he messed up something.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I have a thousand things to attend to. I have my own life, Fred.”

“At least talk to him, tell him something. Don’t you see he feels horrible?”

Of course you could see it. George seemed hurt. You were hurt, too. Every time you rejected his invitations to somewhere, you saw him break a little. He looked just like how you felt.

And then one day, he had enough. You were studying under a tree by the lake when a shadow appeared on the grass next to you. You looked up and your stomach shrinked into a small ball at the sight of him.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I sit?”

Should you just run away? You put down your books and said a quiet ‘sure’.

He sat down next to you, watching your face. You couldn’t look him in the eye.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Good,” you said. “Bit tired. Studying a lot.”

“Mm,” he said, nodding. Then suddenly you heard the saddest, most miserable voice. “Why do you hate me?”

You jerked your head towards him. You were stunned.

“I don’t hate you.”

He had the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Then what is it? Because you haven’t talked to me in three weeks.”

“George…I… I can’t.”

He nodded.

“It’s killing me.”

You pressed your lips together tight before answering.

“You’re using such big words.”

“That’s how I feel.”

When you didn’t answer, he continued.

“Please tell me if I did something.”

You kept quiet.

“Did I hurt you?”

Nothing.

“Did I make you feel bad somehow?”

Quiet.

“Y/N. Please. I miss you.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you blurted out. It was true, though, he didn’t do anything. But in terms of how he meant it, you had to keep him in the dark. Otherwise you’d have to tell him everything. “You didn’t do anything, okay? I have a lot on my mind lately. I have all these exams, and when I’m done with them I can pack my stuff and go back to my parents for another wonderful two months.”

“I told you, you can come to us any time.”

“That’s not the point, George.”

“I know,” he said. “The point is that you don’t see that we’re here for you. I am here for you. And you’re ignoring me, because somehow you decided that you don’t need friends anymore? How’s that? At least you could tell me why.”

“Can we talk about this later?”

“No, we can’t.”

He was right, though. It was not nice what you were doing to him. You sighed. At least you can make him suffer less.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “You’re right. I am ignoring you. I was. But it’s not your fault. It’s — it’s something I have to deal with by myself. I just — I cannot tell you what it is. Not now. Maybe later. One day I will tell you, I promise.

“Can I help you with it without knowing what it is?”

“No.”

“Does Fred know?”

You dodged the question.

“Ginny does.”

He nodded.

“Are you sure I haven’t done anything to you?”

Well, technically…

“Yes. You haven’t done anything.”

——

If the talk with George made you change anything about your new routine, it was that you were willing to spend more time in the common room now while studying. Even though you didn’t have another conversation since the lake, he seemed a bit more relaxed seeing you around. It’s been seven days since that day; you weren’t ignoring him anymore, but you still hadn’t made any progress on processing his absence that was about to come in the near future of your life.

You were just about to finish a Transfiguration essay and start a Divination one when you heard the unmistakable voices coming from the Fat Lady. You looked up and a second later the twins arrived. Fred sat down onto the table opposite you, holding a box in his hands, while George took the spot next to you on the couch.

“Do you have a minute?” George asked.

“For what?”

“It’s a new product,” said Fred with mischievous eyes. “We just tested it, but we need to make sure it’s working.”

“I don’t really have time for anything right now —,” you started, but Fred interrupted.

“It’ll only take a minute. Promise.”

You hesitated. George spoke very softly.

“Please.”

You sighed.

“Fine. But make it quick. I’m not joking.”

“Brilliant,” said Fred and opened the box. He took out a small vial with a wooden cork in it and gave it to you. “Here you go.”

You took it, not sure what you’re suppose to do.

“…Yes? What do you want me to do with this? Drink it?”

“No!” said George, panicking. “Open it. And smell it.”

“Why?” you asked, more suspicious by the second.

“We already tested it ourselves but we need a female’s opinion.”

Fred shrugged like it was no big deal, but you felt that something was up with the two. You looked at the pinkish liquid in the vial. As long as you don’t have to drink anything…

You opened the bottle and held it closer. The twins leaned closer eagerly. You snapped at them.

“What? What is it?”

“Just smell it, Y/N!” said Fred impatiently. “We don’t have all day!”

You shot a sharp look at him then smelled the liquid. You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s so familiar. What is this?”

“What would you say it is?” asked George.

You shook your head and smelled the pink stuff again. You just… you just couldn’t wrap your head around it. Was it like… Was it something like fire? But it somehow also reminded you of water. And… you also felt something else… like perfume… or… or…

Or cologne.

You almost dropped the vial as you held it far away from your nose.

“What?” said Fred with great anticipation. Then grinned. “Was it stinky?”

George shot an angry look at him but you didn’t see it. You were staring at the liquid. The pink liquid.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh, fucking hell.

“So?” asked George eagerly. “What do you feel?”

“No — nothing,” you lied. Very badly, actually.

“Don’t lie!” scolded you Fred. “What is it? What does it smell like?”

Oh, no. What should you say? What should you say?!

“I… I can’t,” you said. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” George looked taken aback. “What is it?”

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry.”

You stood up without looking at them. You kept your head down as you hurried to the portrait, leaving the common room.

—— George was staring at the part of the couch you were just sitting. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t believe it. This cannot be happening.

“George?” asked Fred in a careful tone. “You’re okay?”

George didn’t answer, didn’t blink, even. He was just staring.

“George?”

Would it have been so hard? Giving an honest answer, putting him out of his misery?

“George, we can talk to her again when she comes back.”

He had enough. He had enough.

“Georgie…?”

George stood up, suddenly. He made up his mind. This was it. Months have passed. It was enough.

“I’m ending this bullshit, right now.”

And he ran.

——

You were leaving behind the corridors like an animal running for its life. You didn’t know what to do. This came out of the blue. Of course the twins did it again. And Fred! Fred knew! Was this just an evil game to them? And what should you say when they — oh, they certainly will — ask you again?

You needed air. You needed to be alone. You needed to get to someplace where you could think.

You headed towards the astronomy tower and ran up the stairs as fast as you could. You were out of breath by the time you reached the top. You opened the door and stepped outside and…

“George!” you yelled, looking at the panting boy standing in front of you. “How — ”

“Hello, love,” he said, a hand on his side. “Give me a minute, I just ran through the whole bloody castle.”

You were stunned. You couldn’t move. What the hell was going on?

“George, I really…” you paused before continuing. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did you smell me?” he said, standing up. He hesitated. “Or — or did you smell Fred?”

“Wh — what?!” you felt more outraged than emberrassed. “No, I didn’t smell Fred, what the hell?!

“Oh,” he said, breathing normally again. “Good. Was it me then?”

Oh, God. Oh, God, no. It’s over. He’s gonna find out. He already knows! Shit. Oh, shit!

“I… I am —”

“Cause I smelled you.”

First you didn’t even understand what he just said. Then your jaw dropped in confusion.

“Wh… what are you talking about?” your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He stepped closer, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

“I smelled the potion. We’ve been brewing it for a long time now. I know it works cause when I smelled it… it was like butterbeer. And vanilla, which I assume is your shampoo. Also that gummy candy you’re always eating. So… yeah. I wanted to tell you for so long, Y/N. I can’t take it anymore.”

You looked him in the eye, still unable to speak. Was he telling the truth? Was he playing with you? You had to make sure. Because if it was real…

“Are you…” a relieved smile appeared on your lips. “Are you serious?”

George casted down his eyes. He took both your hands and gently squeezed your fingers.

“Please, don’t laugh at me.”

You shook your head.

“No, I mean… this isn’t a joke, right? You’re telling the truth?”

“Why would I joke with this?”

“Just tell me.”

A sad smile appeared on his face. He started nervously rubbing your fingers. And he finally looked at you.

“I’m serious.”

You laughed.

“Alright, then.”

You let go of his hand but only to cup his cheeks. You pulled him down and pressed your lips on his. He let out a surprised moan. He froze for a second. Then he reached for you to welcome you in his arms, closed his eyes and completely melted into the kiss.

It was like all your troubles had faded away in a second. You kissed George with everything you were holding back for the last couple of months. Your heart was beating incredibly fast. He tasted so sweet. His lips were hot. He was holding you so close. You smelled his cologne again and you felt like you’re going mad. You wanted more of him, you needed him, and you couldn’t think of anything but his lips on yours and his hair between your fingers.

When you two pulled away, gasping for air, he rested his forehead on yours. He was panting and you were too. You couldn’t help but smile. You were gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, finally looking at him. He looked at you, dazed.

“Hi,” you said.

His eyes looked like melted chocolate. A smile was hiding in the corner of his lips. He softly brushed his nose against yours.

“Hi.”

You leaned towards him again, this time giving him a small peck on the lips. He was holding you strongly in his arms, making you feel goosebumps on your back. Your heart was really beating, maybe for the first time in your life. You heard your blood running wild in your ears.

“You know…” you said, whispering. He looked deeply in your eyes, drinking your words, “I want you to know I smelled you, too. I… I smelled fireworks and rain… and your cologne which also reminded me of the forest. I’m… I’m so mad for you. I have been for months.”

“What?” he said, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was so scared,” you gently tucked a lock of his long hair behind his ears. “I didn’t wanna loose you.”

“Witty, you wouldn’t have lost me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“I wanted to. Really. I was just an idiot. As Fred told me so.”

“Wait — Fred knew?”

“Yeah. He figured it out in a second.”

“He wasn’t lying then?”

“Lying?” he looked at you, confused. “Did he tell you?”

“He knew I liked you. He told me I should talk to you because it might end well.”

You looked at each other in disbelief. If you had just talked to each other months before…

“Well, I guess we have to make up for the time we lost,” he said, leaning closer again.

“You think so?” you asked teasingly.

“Mm,” he said and kissed you again, this time tenderly, like you were a flower that’s about to break. You smiled into the kiss and when he realized, he did too.

After his lips let go of yours, he leaned down and burried his face into your neck. He kissed you gently while still holding you close.

“George…” you said, whispering. You were stroking his hair. You had never felt more alive. He kissed your neck again, making you shiver.

“Do you wanna go to Hogsmeade with me — ?

“Yes…”

“— as my girlfriend?”

“…Yes.”

His mischievous smile returned. All that concern and hurt had disappeared from his face. His eyes were shining under the night sky. He placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose and said,

“Alright, then.”

[longitud-de-onda]

Porque el querer causa pena, pena que no tiene fin

pairing; mad sad genius (we never got a name) x reader summary; you can love someone with all your heart, but nothing compares to the madness that exists in their absence rating; t warnings; language, a bit of alcohol, angst, it isn’t specifically covid-19 but it is a pandemic science fiction story, so the quarantine and other situations are taken to the extreme which could be potentially triggering depending on how you’re handling the quarantine. word count; 3.0k a/n; this is fanfic for ngozi anyanwu’s for all the lovesick mad sad geniuses which aside from pedro’s amazing performance, is a brilliant monologue. we’re taking the title from the rosalía song (maldición, cap. 10: cordura) that helped inspire this.

You met him at an art gallery. It was your own show, and you were standing in the corner drinking wine from a clear plastic cup, the edge of which was sharp against your lips. You held a paper plate with five almonds, a mozzarella and tomato crostini, and a mini chocolate cupcake carefully balanced in your other hand.

He was standing in front of your favorite piece. No one else was. Probably because the gallery owner told you it wasn’t the sort of work that would stop anyone. That out of all the work in your collection, it was the type that belonged in the back, where it would be found by the people who cared enough to wander there, whose interest would likely be piqued enough for them to enjoy it. It hurt to hang it up on the back wall and not up in the front where you wanted it.

But he hadn’t stopped at everything else. He had walked into the gallery minutes before, giving every painting a quick glance before settling on the one in front of which he was standing. He had been there for almost five minutes before you decided to walk up next to him.

He looked over upon seeing you approach and your heart stopped. He was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. His smile reached his eyes and you found yourself falling into them. You almost asked him if he would model for you.

You didn’t paint portraits.

“This one is beautiful,” he told you.

You smiled and took a sip of your wine. You didn’t need convincing that it was beautiful. That much you already knew. It was the one piece you were confident beyond belief about.

“What do you like about it?” you asked, jutting your chin up at the painting in question.

“The artist seems to have cared. You can see the brushstrokes. They’re more detailed than the others. Someone only spends that much time on something they really care about.”

That was when you fell in love with him. Thirty-three words. That was all it took.

Your first date was dinner after the gallery closed for the night and he dragged you out to his favorite burger joint because he said you deserved it after opening an exhibition. After wolfing down more than enough food and splitting a tub of fries, you spilled out onto the streets in a pile of laughter and joy and you’ll never forget the look on his face when you asked for his number.

Your second date was a night you’ll never forget. He had taken two days to contact you after the first night, and you had begun to worry you would never hear from him again, but he called you and said he wanted to meet you at 6pm the next day and to dress nicely. You showed up where he told you too and he was there with that goddamn smile.

He took you to a Chinese restaurant and said I’d take you somewhere nicer but I don’t think you’re that kind of woman. And you would have slapped any other guy in the face but he looked so earnest and he was right about you. It was like he could read you like a book. And when you laughed he’d sometimes stop laughing with you just to stare with a certain reverence that made you question what you did to deserve the sort of man who looked at you that way.

He took you past all the big theaters showing musicals and stopped at one tucked away with a modest set of doors but the grandest entry hall you had ever seen. You let him lead the way as he took you through the doors into the auditorium and you walked down the aisles to seats near the front.

You didn’t know what you had done to let him know you loved comedies, but he had picked out the perfect play. By the time it was over your stomach hurt from laughing so hard and your eyes held the watery ring around them from your tears. You hit the cool night air just as it started raining, and any other time you would have run for cover but with him and his smile next to you, you didn’t give a shit.

The aimless wandering that night was your favorite part. You were doubled over laughing as he told you the parts of the play he liked, and the parts he didn’t.

“She was a fucking genius and a poet, you know?” he said.

“Who?”

“The playwright.”

“What? Why?” you asked.

“She wrote a play about another fucking genius,” he said. “And despite it being the funniest shit ever made, it still had all those deep-ass lines. You know, like, ‘If you got one friend when you die then most people never have something like you.”

And he didn’t know why you started giggling until you calmed yourself enough to tell him what the real quote was in between fits of laughter. He had that look from earlier that night on his face. The one where it was like he didn’t even know you could see him. He gazed at you like he could see you. Not just on the surface, but underneath everything too. Like he could see every thought that went through your head and took the time to hold every one and appreciate it before letting it go.

He leaned down to kiss you and you tilted your head up to meet him and you wondered how you hadn’t kissed him before. Why you didn’t when you said goodbye your first night. Why you didn’t when you were getting to know him over a burger. Why you didn’t let him kiss you that first fucking moment when you fell in love, right there, after he told you about your own goddamn brush strokes.

You fell in love all over again the following weekend when he took you to his favorite spot in the park, a large grassy hill overlooking all the kids playing below and you spread out a blanket and ate sandwiches that he had put into little ziploc bags. You told him that he should have packed some wine and he said baby, we didn’t need any alcohol our first two dates and you flushed and told him about the wine you had at the gallery and he laughed.

“I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to walk up to you without it,” you protested when he jokingly expressed mild disappointment.

“If you hadn’t walked up, I probably would have shouted ‘where’s the fucking artist, I need to talk to her!’ by the end of the night,” he said, and you found yourself laughing again.

“Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’s happened at one of my exhibits,” you said.

You met him every morning before work to go out for coffee, even if it meant waking up an extra hour early because he’s a morning person. You had his coffee order memorized by the third day.

He invited you to his apartment one day and you found yourself laughing over home videos of him as a kid late into the night. When you said goodbye, your heart yearned to stay. To take one of his shirts and wear it as you curled up next to him in bed. Instead, you kissed him good night.

After dinner one evening, you brought him to your place and showed him the little studio you had in the most well-lit room. He spent almost an hour exploring it, asking you questions about every little thing, the brand of paints you liked best, the angle you preferred to set your easel, your favorite tools, your favorite color, and telling you how honored he was to be in the workplace of a genius.

You didn’t tell him he was the smartest person you had ever met.

You didn’t tell him that he was the genius out of the two of you. That he could talk about his work and you could listen for hours to his voice but not understand a single word he said. That he would talk like no one was listening and then say the most serious shit. The sort of thing that made you rethink life, and by the time you had escaped from your thoughts he was already on another topic, rambling about the multitudes of things he loved. He saw the beauty in everything.

How the hell could a man like him love you?

He was the sort of person you would hear about in movies. The type to never stop dreaming. Someone watching the two of you would think you both mad. He had his head in the clouds and you would watch from below in awe as if his brain was firing off fireworks, and then you would speak about anything and he would give you that smile and that goddamn look that drove you crazy.

Your entire life he was there, living his own life without ever having met you, and you often wondered how many times you had almost met. You lived in the same city, surely there must have been times. Hundreds if not thousands of moments in which your paths nearly crossed. Whether what kept you from meeting was a mere 3 feet of distance in a crowd or a mere 3 minutes of time and space in which one of you was running late or early to something along which way you would have found him.

But you were lucky to have met him when you did. Gotten to share the brief moments while they lasted. That was before the virus hit.

You were sitting on his kitchen counter, covered in acrylic paint he had bought at the grocery store as the two of you detailed messy renditions of Van Gogh’s work on his cabinet doors, and he had wrapped his dirty hands around your waist, leaving two purple handprints on your painting shirt, and pulled you into a kiss. And this one was different. It was deeper, searching for more. There was more heat and passion. Your whole relationship, months of it, had been slow and beautiful and intimate, but there were times where it was more like friendship then romance and neither of you minded as you walked along the fine line between the two, happy with the state of things as they were. But you had loved him since the first day and you didn’t mind the idea of, one day, collapsing naked and sweaty into bed with him instead of snuggling up against his side as he wrapped you in his arms like he usually did when you did decide to spend the night.

But that was for another day. You broke apart after minutes to return to your project. By the end of the night you were screwing the doors back in and he was admiring everything. If you were being honest, he was completely helpless when it came to handiwork. Couldn’t hammer a nail, tighten a screw, sand some wood, or even recreate a decent Starry Starry Night, but that didn’t matter. Because his kitchen looked vibrant and beautiful and the art reminded you of all the ideas you could see swirling in his head. The fucking genius.

The reports had started to come in by then, but it wasn’t until the following morning that you realized how serious everything had gotten. Schools announced that day that they were closing. He called to tell you he was working from home. You got the call that evening that you would be too.

A week later and you had met with him once, in the park. It was a long trek for both of you, living on opposite sides of the city. But the brief kisses, kind words, and soft touches on the waist, thighs, arms, neck, jaw, nose, back, anything? Those were all worth it.

The following day you learned you couldn’t leave your neighborhood. You video-chatted with him in tears. If only you had let yourself follow the thoughts of moving in with him instead of stamping them out as soon as they started to take root in your head. If only you had let him spend the night one more time. So you wouldn’t be clinging to his fading smell on the t-shirt you stole from his closet.

It was like your whole world cut out when the strikes started. No internet. No cell service. No connection. The postal service was all but gone, and you had no way of connecting with him. Your only source of news was the newspaper, three times a week, delivered to your doorstep. And your neighbor who got it every day and would shout to you the important things.

You wished you had photos of him framed around the house. 

Then when you did, the sight of him staring at you from every corner of your apartment was enough to drive you mad with longing that you took them all down. 

When the government got the strikes under control, they started to introduce the plans for rolling out the internet services again. Things had become grim. You spent every night dreaming of him, but you were starting to forget his face. Did his nose curve that much?  Were the creases around his eyes that deep? Was his shabby beard that full? Did he have dimples, or were you just making that up?

You would stare at the photos on your phone, desperately trying to commit him to memory. Remember how he looked when the man in the photo came to life in three dimensions. How did he walk? How did he wave his hands?

By that time, life was different. You didn’t make art anymore. What was once your life had been shoved into your studio room, the light turned off, and the tubes of paint left to dry up. Your apartment didn’t smell like clay and charcoal and linseed oil anymore. You didn’t have it in you to keep painting. You went to the grocery store once every fourteen days, grabbing produce and frozen goods, bottles of alcohol and some cleaning supplies before handing over your newly minted ration card to receive the staples. Rice, pasta, beans, eggs, flour, sugar, a couple bags of dried fruit, a bottle of milk. It wasn’t so bad when you lived on your own, but you felt bad for the mothers and fathers in line behind you, knowing that their children might be too picky to even eat the food they were lucky to get.

The introduction of connectivity services was a slow process. Neighborhood by neighborhood across the country so as not to overwhelm the systems. There were new rules. It was only to be used for three things: education, work, and essential communication between legal family members.

Your finger hovered over the call button next to his name hundreds of times, but you could never press it out of fear that someone would be watching or listening. You knew that when you walked the streets they were. It was likely the same for your phone now too.

One day in a drunken fit of anger and yearning and the craze of love, you deleted all the photos on your phone, hoping that maybe without them you could forget how much you missed him.

You tried to forget him. But every night you dreamt of his slowly warping face. You wondered if he was doing the same.

Sometimes you would watch the DVDs you had and try to replace his image in your head with the actors. Sometimes it would work and weeks would go by with only dreams of the movies. But it would always lose its effectiveness. Usually around the time that you remembered that he was probably your soulmate and you didn’t get enough time.

In every single one of the possibilities of your lives together that you daydreamed about for hours every day, there was never enough time. But this reality was the worst. You were sure of that.

You had read every book in your house. Read every poem you could get your hands on, even the ones you had risked your life for in searching them on the internet, carefully saving pdfs and screenshots and printing them out on the dwindling paper in your apartment. Words didn’t do the same thing they used to anymore. They didn’t bring joy and excitement and escape. You stopped reading them.

You talked with your neighbor for the first time in a month. It seemed that almost everyone had stopped reading books. You wondered if people stopped doing other things too. 

The world before was starting to blur around the edges. You couldn’t remember if the path you liked to walk in the park had such an erratic course or if it was more subtle than you could remember. What did you like to do on the weekends? There was a place, a building, that you liked to go to. You couldn’t remember what it was called or what was inside, but you remember the feeling of standing there. The musty smell and the awe and the sensation that you were staring out at all of humanity. And you had no idea what the fuck it was. 

You weren’t sure how much of the world before you had forgotten. But you couldn’t shake him from your memory. You wished you could. 

When you weren’t working you were cooking or eating or sleeping. And when you weren’t doing that, it constituted the dangerous time where you didn’t have anything to do and nothing to interest you.

And every fucking thing you did, be that making pasta or lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling, made you think of him. You had loved him as you’d never loved anyone before. And you never told him. Did he even know that you loved him? Did he know that you knew he loved you back?

You would close your eyes and the only thing you were sure of in your mind’s image of him was that goddamn smile.

.

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[bush-viper-cutie]

“Shrieking Shack Ghosts” || YEAR 3 – Ch.28 (HP au)

                              Chapter List

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Day posted: 10/16/2020

Word count: 3, 207

Relationship: EVENTUAL severus X oc (slow burn)

Rating: E for everyone

Warnings: none

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A/N: This is my first fan fic I’m writing mainly as a way to practice. This is a retelling of the hp books with an inserted character. Although most every character will be written about, this is mostly for the pro snape fandom. Please do not fear, although this is a severus x oc story, it is an incredibly slow burn as I do not intend for them to get together at all until after the final book events. Chapters will be posted twice a week.

This derivative work follows the events of the Harry Potter books by Jk Rowling and is intended as a fun way to practice my writing. Thank you for reading :D

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“Oh, of course you don’t look suspicious at all.” Heather crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot as Harry and Ron came down the stairs towards her. “Who would ever suspect you, carrying your school bag on a Saturday morning?”

Harry moved his bag to rest behind him instead of to his side. He crossed his arms back at her. “I’m just going to do some studying in the library after Ron leaves.” He looked around at the empty corridor but there was no need, everyone was at breakfast already, eager to get the day started.

She rolled her eyes. “We’ll both ‘go study’ today.”

They sat down with everyone and ate, trying to look somewhere between sad and bored and not at all excited to get down to Hogsmeade. They were careful not to look down the table at Hermione, who had told Harry last night she’d tell on him and get the map confiscated if she thought they were leaving the castle. Ron left, winking at them and saying ‘See you soon’, leaving them to finish eating their food slowly, looking miserable, as everyone else got up to leave and line up for Hogsmeade.

Hermione walked up to them, pushing against the river of students and sat down next to Harry, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry. I really am but you must understand… It’s for your own good.”

“It’s ok. We’re just going to be studying in the library, I guess. Get some homework done so we have more free time.” Harry looked absolutely pitiful as he moved his breakfast around with his fork.

“Alright… I’m sorry.” Hermione got up and hugged Heather before running out the great hall.

The only people left were the second and first years, and a couple of teachers who hadn’t finished breakfast yet. They calmly got up and walked out, making sure to head up the entrance hall stairs before waving down to Ron and Hermione who both waved up at them with very different looks.

They hurried up to the third floor and opened up the one eyed witch. While Harry shoved his bag inside Heather opened up the map and scanned the halls. A tiny set of footprints were heading their way.

“Harry!” she hissed. “Neville’s coming!”

“How close?”

“Harry! Heather!” Neville had spotted them around the corner.

Harry quickly closed the witch’s hump and stepped back. They stood against the opposite wall as far back from the witch as possible to avoid suspicion.

“Neville. You aren’t going to Hogsmeade?” Heather slipped Harry the map and he stuffed it in his pocket. “Oh, I forgot.”

Neville stopped right next to them. “It’s part of my punishment. Hey what are you two doing? We could play exploding snap together! I’ve gotten good… kind of.”

Heather and Harry looked at each other.

Harry nodded. “Oh, that’d be great… But I have that vampire essay to do for Lupin. We’ll be in the library…”

Neville’s eyes brightened. “Oh, could I join? I haven’t done it either – ”

“N-no… oh Harry, remember we did it last night?” Heather put her hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Sorry we can’t work on it together.”

“You could help me with it then!”

It was clear Neville was desperate for company. They must be the only three people in their year not down in Hogsmeade right now. Maybe they could bring him along? Although it’d be hard to hide under the cloak with him… he was a bit larger than Ron and it was hard enough with just the two of them.

“Er – ” Harry was about to respond when Neville gasped and stepped all the way in front of them, looking over their shoulders.

They turned around and saw Professor Snape walked up to them with arms crossed and narrowed eyes.

“And what… are you three doing here?” His eyes slid from Neville to Heather and stayed on Harry. “An odd place to meet up with friends, isn’t it? – Potter.”

Heather watched Professor Snape’s eyes flick to either side of them, to the closed classroom doors, and then to the one-eyed witch a few feet away. He narrowed his eyes at it and raised a single black brow, looking back at them. He looked as suspicious as Hermione had during breakfast, the same doubtful kind of suspicion.

“We didn’t mean to meet up here we just – ” Harry looked at Heather, “…happened to.”

“Really.” Professor Snape drummed his fingers on his elbow and took a few more seconds to cast them wary eyes. “It’s often your habit to turn up in places you aren’t supposed to be in – especially – places you shouldn’t be in.” He looked from Harry to Heather and she looked down. “I suggest the three of you find somewhere else to be, like your common rooms. I believe I should have assigned enough essays to keep you busy this weekend?”

They nodded and turned on their heels, heading away. Harry turned to look back at him as they rounded a corner but Heather pulled him forward. They walked all the way up to Gryffindor Tower when Heather stopped and pulled Harry to a halt.

“Harry, will you drop me off at my common room?”

Neville was holding the portrait open.

“Oh – er – yeah. It’s on the way to the library and… I forgot I left the essay there last night. See you, Neville.”

“I’ll get my textbook down,” he said and went inside.

“I feel bad for lying to him. Can’t we – ”

“No.” Harry pulled her away and took out the map as he went down the stairs. Once they were away from the security trolls guarding the portrait he pulled it up to his nose and squinted at the tiny words. “Passage is clear. Snape’s on the second floor. Why’s he always just walking around?”

They headed down the stairs to the third floor again, examining the map one last time for anyone nearby.

“His office now. And – ” Harry continued. “He examined the statue. D’you think he knows about it?”

Heather opened the witch’s hump and waited for him to clear the map and put it away. “No, or he would have found your bag.” She pushed it aside and walked in, careful not to slip and fall down the incline. She lit her wand the second the statue closed behind her, before they could be cast in total darkness.

The passage walls looked rough where the light hit as they walked, their steps echoing slightly. It was an odd kind of quiet inside, like the whole world was suddenly muffled. Outside the tunnel, walking around even the quietest of passageways, distant talking or laughter or even birds singing and cawing outside could be heard. Inside the tunnel, it was like silence was the permanent state of things and the thought of talking felt rude and disrespectful to the darkness up ahead.

They walked for several minutes before the eeriness set in, and her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t. The same kind of fear that they weren’t alone in the tunnel, and that Sirius Black would be waiting for them some feet ahead crept in more powerfully than the first time they walked through the tunnel. She was leading the way and hesitating with each step she took, holding her wand out as far as she could, willing the light to reach farther ahead.

“D’you think Ron and Hermione will ever be friends again?” she asked, attempting to distract her mind and calm her racing heart as they walked.

“Why would he examine the statue? He must think something.”

She couldn’t believe he was still stuck on Professor Snape. “Harry. He isn’t an idiot you know. All Slytherins know he can smell out trouble a floor away and you’re always getting in the middle of things that get us into trouble. I’m pretty sure I’d be top of his class if he didn’t hold a grudge against me because of you.”

“But I haven’t done anything this year.”

“You’re doing something right now.”

“WE’RE doing something.”

She decided not to respond. They reached the end of the tunnel eventually and, under the invisibility cloak, they emerged out of Honeydukes and looked around for Ron, spotting him sitting on a bench across the street, eating candy.

They walked up to him and Heather kicked his foot lightly. “Here. Finally.”

“What took you so long!” Ron frowned and got up, stuffing his candy back in his pockets. “It’s been an hour.”

They set off down the street walking next to Ron as he tried his best not to look like he was talking to himself.

“Snape was hanging around the statue.”

“Harry thinks it’s weird Professor Snape was suspicious of us.”

“He was suspicious of the statue.”

“If he knew about it he would have told Dumbledore.” Ron tried to keep most of his mouth shut as he talked. “Or he would have hidden in the tunnel waiting to catch you. It would’ve made his day – or life – depending on how many detentions that gets you.”

“Or he’s caught Fred and George around there too.” Heather wondered how Fred and George managed their mischief with him around. She never saw them in the same room together, apart from breakfast and dinner. Maybe they purposefully stay as far away from him as possible… with the map that would have been easy, just taking opposite stairs or walking down different passageways.

“In here,” Ron said out of the corner of his mouth, stopping right outside the Owl Post.

He pretended to look at cards to send to his brother Bill in Egypt while her and Harry looked around. The Owl post was a small looking shop two levels high, except it had only one floor. Walking in, there was a front desk and hundreds of different letter-related things in organized clear drawers all around the first level walls. Then, up high above their heads were hundreds of owls hooting and looking down at them, twisting their heads in curiosity.

Heather had the feeling they could see them under the cloak, but none came down to inspect them, not even when Heather tempted fate and held her arm up under the cloak to see if one would land on it. Harry pinched her and she tried not to yelp, quickly putting her arm back down.

“Where are you?” Ron muttered.

They pulled on his sweater and they left.

“Zonko’s next.”

They followed Ron into the shop and found it incredibly hard to remain hidden surrounded by so many students and children packed all around looking at products. Heather hated it inside, being reminded of the only time they’d been in a toy store with Dudley and his greedy hands touching every toy he could reach. Back then she’d been taller than both Harry and Dudley and was forced to reach up and grab things for him. The fact she nor Harry were allowed to touch anything made the experience much worse.

Harry, however, happily gave Ron coins to buy several jokes and tricks. He stuffed his pockets with Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, Frog Spawn Soap, and Nose-Biting Teacup apiece.

“I hope you aren’t planning on using those.”

“Who are you? Hermione?” Ron said bitterly.

What little Hagrid’s talk did for Ron yesterday had been quickly erased by Hermione’s threat and he was back to hating her. The wind threatened to blow the cloak off them and they decided it’d be best to get away from the town. It was a nice day aside from the cold and Ron thought it would be less scary to visit the Shrieking Shack.

“I tried going up here last time with – well you know who – but the snow made it hard to look at properly. I thought there was someone on the lawn but it was just a snowflake stuck to my eyelash.”

For it supposedly being the most haunted dwelling in all of Britain, it didn’t look so scary. It looked like it was swaying in the wind, ready to topple onto itself any second. The paint was a dark cream color and the roof a light grey. The windows were all boarded up and the door had several chains on it. There were surprisingly no visible holes or missing boards but it still looked like it was falling apart. It looked lonely and sad, not scary.

“Creepy,” Harry said.

“What’s supposed to be so scary about it?”

Ron leaned on the fence and swallowed. “No one can get into it – Fred and George tried of course – but it’s sealed shut. But everyone in town swears at one point or another, they’ve heard terrifying sounds coming from inside. I asked some of the ghosts about it and they say they avoid it and warn students to avoid it too.”

It was the only house on the hill and hidden safely behind a forest of short and thin grey trees with almost black looking leaves all dried but still hanging onto their branches. Whatever noises the town heard must come from something incredibly loud to travel all the way down passed the woods.

“It’s getting hot under here.” Harry reached for the bottom of the cloak when he stopped.

Heather heard Draco before seeing him climb over the hill, walking the dirt path between the tree lines towards them.

“ – remind me about the owl I’ll be getting from my Father. I’m sure the hearings going well. He’s telling them I couldn’t use my arm for three whole months.”

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered behind them, a little more winded than him from climbing.

“Imagine that big hairy moron trying to defend that stupid bird. ‘He won’ ‘arm anyone, honest. He’s innocent, he is – ‘ can you imagine?” He shook his head and spotted Ron suddenly. His smile turned into a wicked grin and his quick steps slowed and smoothed. “Ah, Weasley. House hunting, are you? Bit of a dream house for you though, isn’t it?”

Ron’s face went red as he scowled. “Leave me alone Malfoy.”

“I supposed it’d be a big step up. Maybe with this one, your family won’t have to all sleep in the same room. And you won’t be sleeping in a cupboard – oh wait, that the Potters, isn’t it?” Draco laughed and looked at Crabbe and Goyle happily as they laughed too.

Heather felt her own cheeks go red at the mention of their old room situation. Ron took a step forward but Harry pulled on the back of his shirt.

“I’ll take care of him,” Harry hissed into Ron’s red ear.

“No!” Heather tried protesting but there wasn’t much she could do unless she wanted Harry to walk away, cloak and all.

Heather followed Harry around behind Crabbe and Goyle and crouched down with him as he picked up mud.

“Don’t,” she tried again but he didn’t listen.

“We were just talking about that oaf friend of yours. Well, you know him best. D’you think he’ll cry at the mention of that hippogriff getting its head – ”

Harry quickly stuck his muddy hand out from under the cloak and flung as hard as he could, hitting the back of Draco’s head, covering his silver-blonde hair with thick brown muck.

Draco whipped around, looking angrily behind them. “What was that!” His anger melted into confusion when his frantic eyes spotted no one.

Harry and Heather had crept back around to stand to their far left. Harry picked up a moss covered stick and flung it, hitting Crabbe wetly on his neck.

“Argh!” Crabe started punching the air, taking quick steps towards them with every punch he gave.

“I think you made the house mad, Malfoy.” Ron leaned against the fence, pointing a thumb towards the swaying shack.

Draco finished rubbing the mud off him when he seized Ron’s sweater. “You’re doing this!”

SPLAT.

“It’s got me!” Goyle wiped green-ish mud off his uniform.

Draco swirled around, looking at Goyle and Crabbe hitting and kicking at the air. Heather was crouching down, covering her mouth with her hands trying not to burst out laughing. Harry was standing above her, ready to throw a stick when one of Crabbe’s kicks caught a bit of the cloak and pulled it down.

Harry quickly caught it at his neck and pulled it back up but Draco had already spotted him, pointing and screaming at where Harry’s head had appeared and then disappeared. Crabbe and Goyle hadn’t seen but ran back down the hill as soon as Draco yelled. Draco ran after them, looking somewhere between angry and scared.

Ron pointed down the hill. “You guys better run! He’s probably on his way to tell on you! Get to the castle fast – ”

“See you!” Harry yelled and pulled Heather up by her arms.

She had been frozen with dread the second Draco had pointed in their direction and screamed. As they ran down the path to Hogsmeade, she couldn’t help but picture him bursting through the doors screaming at the top of his lungs that he’d ‘just seen Potter in Hogsmeade!’ at everyone.

They got down to the town and the first thing she spotted was the apothecary sign swaying in the wind across from the Three Broomsticks.

“Wait!” She ducked out from under and ran in.

If she was going to get in trouble for going into Hogsmeade, then she had to make it at least worth it. She slammed the list down on the counter and huffed at the old man staring at her red and sweaty face. He took it without a word and started putting it all together in a white cloth bag. She could hardly enjoy the experience, thinking about whether anyone would believe Draco. It wasn’t common to have a cloak, and Draco probably thought Harry or any other non-pureblood wouldn’t have one… but Professor Dumbledore knew they did. And she was sure Professor Snape, even if he didn’t know about the cloak, would be highly suspicious of them.

The old man set the bag of ingredients on the counter and waited for her to count up her coins. He gave her a polite nod as she handed them over and picked up her things, running back out of the store. She looked around wildly but found absolutely no hint of where Harry was. Did he leave her?

Just as her panic began to worsen, she felt something push her into the alley between shops and she ducked under the cloak again.

“You’re mad!” Harry hissed. “Let’s go!”

The apothecary hadn’t taken any longer than five minutes max, but it felt like she had doomed them already. She stuffed the bag strings through her skirt belt loops and tied it closed, stuffing the bag up into her sweater and stuffing the sweater end into her skirt, keeping the bag of ingredients tucked inside neatly.

They ran inside Honeydukes, slipped in the back shop door, and down the stairs into the trap door. Heather could only hope, as they ran as fast as they could, wands lit and extended out, that the tunnel was a shorter distance than the path leading up to the school.

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TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN: Daddy's Country Gold LP by Melissa Carper

Singer-songwriter and upright bassist Melissa Carper has released her new album Daddy's Country Gold today.

Carper’s refreshingly unique style calls to mind greats like Kitty Wells, Billie Holiday, and Loretta Lynn, beautifully conveyed in the grooves of the album’s 12 sparkling gems. Carper enlisted fellow bassist Dennis Crouch (The Time Jumpers) and producer/engineer Andrija Tokic (Alabama Shakes, Margo Price) to co-produce the album and bring her dream to life. Recorded live to tape at Tokic’s analog studio wonderland The Bomb Shelter in Nashville, the album features Crouch (bass), Chris Scruggs (guitar, steel guitar), Jeff Taylor (piano, organ, accordion), Matty Meyer (drums, percussion), Billy Contreras (fiddle), with guest appearances from Brennen Leigh, Sierra Ferrell, and legendary pedal steel maestro Lloyd Green.

Daddy’s Country Gold is a collection of glittering Carper originals of the country, western swing, and jazz variety. From the first notes of album opener 'Makin’Memories,' to the whimsical 'Would You Like To Get Some Goats,' and the heart-wrenching tenderness of album closer 'The Stars Are Aligned,' this lifetime of work, experience, and wanderlust culminates in a beautiful portrait of heartfelt music, written by a road-lovin’ gal who has lived these songs and spent her life playing music for folks that still love the real thing.

We asked Melissa to breakdown Daddy's Country Gold track-by-track to give us more insight into what the songs on the LP are about. Read it below.

Makin' Memories

Most of my songs' inspirations will come just from a beginning phrase or idea and then they will take off from that.  With 'Makin' Memories,' the inspiration came from a conversation I was having with a friend, they were joking about 'Makin' memories and keepin' your memories.'  I thought it was funny and a good song idea. The first line came to me, 'I'm makin' memories I'd like to remember.'  I always have a hard time remembering people's names, especially getting introduced to so many folks at shows and traveling all around, so thus 'Larry and Steve.'  Then, of course, there is the whole idea of not remembering what happened when you have had too much to drink, something I may have done a time or two. This is just a fun, lighthearted song that hopefully makes people chuckle.  I love Frank Sinatra and this song happened to take on a bit of that Sinatra flair.  

I Almost Forgot About You

The idea for 'I Almost Forgot About You' came from a weekend in which I had a very good time and had managed to forget about a love interest that I had been obsessing about. When I got back home that phrase came to me, 'I Almost Forgot About You,' and I realized I had a song there.  I just kind of tied in the various lost loves of my life to come up with the rest. The bridge for this song came later and sort of magically. I primarily write without an instrument in hand and develop the words and melody first and then I sit down and figure out the chords after.  This bridge I am particularly happy with the spaces and the way the phrasing waits. It came to me that way, and in fact, this entire song had a nice easy flow with the way it all came. I like it when that happens, feels like you are getting help from the universe.  

Back When

A lot of my songs are based on my real-life experiences, and with 'Back When,' every single word of that was lived and true. I started writing it a bit after a break up while longing for the relationship I once had with someone, that is--the beginning of the relationship when we were in love and everything was wonderful. It was written with a hopeful desire that things could be as they once were, and though that never happened, I feel like this song does have that hopeful air that maybe 'back when' could happen again, for any relationship that has lost that spark.  

Old Fashioned Gal

'Old Fashioned Gal' was inspired by spending some time in the beautiful country of West Virginia.  I did receive help from a West Virginian on the names of flowers and such.  Before writing it, I had been listening on Sirius radio to a station with old jazz tunes--if I remember correctly--while driving back from a long tour with the Carper Family.   Usually, if I listen to a certain style over and over, the next thing I write will have that influence.  Like I do with most of my songs, I developed the melody and lyrics first in my head and then sat down to find the chords on guitar.  It ended up having a surprising amount of chord changes in the chorus and changing in odd spots rhythmically, but that's what the melody dictated and I like the way it twists and turns and throws you a bit off-balance there in the chorus.  

You're Still My Love

'You're Still My Love' is just a sad love song and written from real-life experience. I had been listening to Jolie Holland before I wrote this one and I think it affected the embellishments in the melody.  Also, I think Patsy Cline came out, probably from listening so much to Patsy in my childhood.  This one wrote itself real quick and I remember camping and sleeping in the back of my van while writing it. 

Would You Like to Get Some Goats?

When I wrote 'Would You Like to Get Some Goats' I had a girlfriend at the time whose dream was to have a goat farm. I had fun with double-entendre and metaphors in this one.  And it kind of likens the commitment of getting goats with the commitment of marriage. I have heard goats are quite a commitment but they sure are cute when they are little babies.  

My Old Chevy Van

'My Old Chevy Van' is an emotional song for me.  I inherited my family's 1991 Chevy Van and had been driving it for six years or so when I moved from Arkansas to Austin, Texas in 2009.  I drove it around Texas for a year or two and then felt like it was time to sell it as maintenance was getting expensive and it got terrible gas mileage. I had lived in the van at various times, having a traveling lifestyle, and then there were all the memories it held from childhood. At the time of writing the song, both my mom and dad had already passed on. I had no idea when I sold this van how sad I would be because it had such a connection to them. I still wish I had not sold it and just kept it around as a guest house. The seats in back folded out to be a bed and it was quite comfortable to ride in with the luxury bucket seats. I named her 'Barbie' because the pink and purple paint job reminded me of my Barbie van I had growing up. I had been listening to Hazel Dickens a bunch when I wrote 'My Old Chevy Van' and I feel that was influential. This song needed a bridge and my old bandmate, Jan Bell (who knew Barbie), helped me find some lyrical ideas that fit just perfectly for the bridge.  

Arkansas Hills

I wrote 'Arkansas Hills' when I was driving back from a Christmas trip to Wisconsin. I started writing it around St. Louis and I did not have a smartphone to give me directions. I had probably scribbled some directions down or was looking at a map and I remember telling myself out loud a few times, so I would remember the highways, '44 West out of St. Louis to 65 South,' and then I thought to myself well that's a nice start to a traveling song. So I started writing it while I was driving down the road, and had it pretty much finished by the time I was pulling into 'my little log cabin' in Arkansas--except I didn't really live in a log cabin, but it sounds good in the song.  Donna Farar of Mountain View, Arkansas helped me write a fourth verse, which I felt the song needed.  Donna wrote all the lyrics to Willie's big hit 'The Last Thing I Needed the First Thing This Morning' and she actually lives in the middle of the woods in Arkansas in a cabin, so I felt that enlisting her help was a perfect choice.  

It's Better if You Never Know

'It's Better if You Never Know' is one of my more recent songs and it was inspired simply by a conversation with songwriters in Nashville at a table in a bar. Once I had moved to Nashville and began co-writing with some folks, I realized you can get a song idea at almost anytime if you are paying attention, just listening to a good phrase someone might say. In this instance, someone said 'It's Better if You Never Know' and someone else said that sounds like a good song. I started trying to write it the next day. I'm getting better at writing songs that don't necessarily have a link to me personally, however, I do believe when a song has that personal link it can have an extra emotional feeling that is conveyed to the listener.  

I'm Musing You

'I'm Musing You' came about while I was driving down the road on a road trip. I hadn't written a song in a while and was thinking about how I have often used the same muse or muses to create a song, by thinking back on old times. I thought to myself 'I need a new muse, I need to stop delving back into these old times.' And there was the song.  

Many Moons Ago

With 'Many Moons Ago,' a musician friend of mine used that phrase, many moons ago, and I thought wow I like that, people don't use that phrase much anymore, so I decided to write a song with the phrase. I had been listening to a Delmore Brothers tape over and over in my truck and, though I don't even remember the specific song, I know that something from that tape inspired the melody to 'Many Moons Ago.' Often times I will not know what I am copying or if I am copying something, but there is just something present in my consciousness that brings about a certain style or melody. This song doesn't have many lyrics, but I like the simple message it conveys that time does heal and growth occurs and you move on even when you feel you are dealing with something you can never get over.

The Stars Are Aligned

'The Stars Are Aligned' just came from the romantic feeling of a new relationship with a soulmate you have been waiting for. It flowed out just naturally from that first phrase, the 'Stars Are Aligned.' I love the way this one lends itself to a string section in the background, almost Disney princess-like, and I am so pleased with the lovely string parts on this recording. The string parts were written by my girlfriend and first-class fiddler, Rebecca Patek.

Photo credit: Aisha Golliher

[purplesurveys]

1156

survey by ehxsnos

First lets get the basics out of the way...

What's your name? Robyn.

How old are you? 22.

Where are you from? Philippines.

What color are your eyes and hair? Eyes are dark brown, hair is black.

When were you born? April 21.

Now for the fun stuff!

Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Closed. Some people can fall asleep with their closet doors open (and this is a thing in the first place??)? I could imagine that would irritate me to death, and I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep until I got up and closed it.

How many people have you slept with this week? Zero.

What size is your bed? Just a twin size. It’s all I need for now.

What do you drink with dinner? Cold water, always. We also usually have other drinks served at the dinner table - Coke, buko juice, and iced tea - but I never drink anything else.

What do you dip a chicken nugget in? Barbecue sauce.

Last person you kissed/kissed you? You know who it was, I don’t feel like continuing to mention them on surveys as often as I used to any more.

What movies could you watch over and over and still love? Two for the Road, The Proposal, and Toy Story.

What is your usual bedtime? From Monday to Friday I’m usually passed out anytime between 10 PM–12 AM. It’s a different story on weekends; revenge bedtime procrastination is my thing now, so I go to bed anywhere from 2–5 AM.

When you were a kid, what did you dress up as for Halloween? I always had different outfits on per year, but they were always the generic ones that we could buy costumes of at the mall – pirate, Tinkerbell, mermaid, etc. I didn’t start getting resourceful and/or witty with my Halloween choices until I was about 14 or 15 when I first went as AJ Lee.

Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer? February last year when I had my grad photo taken.

Take a vitamin daily? I am guilty of skipping my vitamins lol.

What do you wear to bed? I answer this all the tiiiiiime but I like wearing super-thin clothes so it’d feel airy while I sleep. I don’t exactly live in the chilliest country in the world.

Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? Can’t relate.

Ever have plastic surgery? No.

Do you want kids? I would love to have kids, yeah.

Where did your last kiss take place? Outside of that person’s car, just right before they got inside.

Four words to explain why you last threw up? I had a fever coming in and was starting to feel nauseous.

Last thing you ate? Adobo.

Do you get your nails done? Nope.

When did your last relationship end? September.

So tell us, what room ARE you in? I’m in my bedroom.

How many stories does your home have? Three if you count the rooftop.

Do you own headphones? No. The one I have in my room is my dad’s; he just lets me borrow it.

Have you ever...

Gotten a Brazillian wax? No, never tried having that yet. Being waxed looks like it hurts, so I’ve stayed away from it to this day lol.

Gotten so drunk you couldn’t remember wtf you did? Only a handful of times as I try not to get to that point, but yes, it’s happened before.

Been called a bitch? Sure.

Slut? No.

Pierced anything? I have a couple of piercings, but nothing I pierced myself.

Had a tattoo? Not yet.

Smoked a cigarette? Yes, but I actively try to make it a point not to form it into a habit.

Smoked weed? Nope.

Missed someone so bad you couldn’t eat or sleep? Sure, this has happened back when I still felt this way about the person. 

Worked out at a gym? No, never at a gym. I’d feel too self-conscious to get a gym membership altogether haha. In the brief time I worked out, I only did it at home. 

Snuck out of the house? No. With my parents, it’s much safer to ask permission than attempt to be sneaky since they always say yes anyway.

What’s the nearest furry object? That would be Kimi.

Is the room you are in messy? I would say it’s messy in my mom’s eyes but relatively neater than the average bedroom I would see at my friends’s and relatives’ houses. My mom just has ridiculous sky-high expectations when it comes to neatness and I’ve stopped bothering to meet them years ago.

What is the single largest item in your house? Either the living room couch or my parents’ bed, not sure which would ultimately take up more space.

When did you first become interested in sex? I mean I remember starting to explore porn when I was maybe 13 or 14, so those ages would be safe guesses.

How much money did you spend today? Zero and I plan on making it remain at zero. Payday is taking so long though :((((

What is the biggest amount of money you have ever had at one time? I think I had to hold around ₱7,000 in bills at one point in high school when my mom asked me to pay for something tuition-related.

What kind of cell phone do you have? iPhone 8. It sounds more and more ancient with each year that passes lmaooo.

Have you ever been under anesthesia? Never, and I hope I never have to? I’m scared of the things that could come out of my mouth.

Which Disney parks have you been to? None of them.

What does your bed comforter look like? Blue.

When did you last cry? Yesterday, from watching an emotional clip.

When is the last time you took medicine? Start of June.

What was the medicine for? It was to treat my UTI. I was already feeling so much better by the time I had to take that last pill, but I was instructed to take it for a certain period of time so I was just following the schedule.

What kind of health insurance do you have? I’ve actually never tried looking into the specifics of it. I know health insurance is part of my job, but I don’t even fully understand insurance yet HAHA and the thought of it makes me anxious so I haven’t read too much into the kind of insurance I have and the inclusions I can avail from it.

What is your birth control method of choice? I don’t have a preferred one. I’ve only been with a girl, so I haven’t had the chance to explore methods I could gravitate towards.

How much do you spend on your parents for Christmas? Several thousands of pesos, usually.

If you were given $1k and had to use it on 1 purchase, what would you buy? Like, I was challenged to finish it off on one thing? I’d get an iPhone 12.

Have your parents ever caught you drinking? They never caught me drinking when I was not yet allowed to drink. Now that they know I do drink, there’s no ‘catching’ that happens; they don’t mind me downing a bottle of soju from time to time.

Have you ever crawled through a window? I may have as a kid.

What do you spend most of your money on? Food delivery, heh. :)))))))) It’s my favorite way to spoil myself.

Is there a secret you've never told your parents? Yup.

Do you still have pictures of you & your ex? Yes. I’m definitely a photo hoarder regardless of the person, so she’s not an isolated case; I also still have photos of people who aren’t in my life anymore, like Athenna and Sofie. I just don’t look at photos of me and Gab anymore, but they are definitely still around. Deleting them would be like deleting the last six years of my life and that sounds a little unfair.

Has someone ever spread a nasty rumor about you? Someone spread a rumor that I was bi and dating Andi back in 6th grade but I wouldn’t call that nasty.

How many rooms does your house have? It originally had three, but we had the balcony renovated into another bedroom, for my brother; so now we technically have four.

Would you sex tape with you in it for 3 million dollars? As long as I felt safe in the environment and with the person/people, sure.

Are you happier single or in a relationship? There are different kinds of happiness you can get from either; I don’t believe this is something that should be compared.

Do you have curly hair? No.

What is a compliment you receive often? That I write well.

How tall are you?: 5′1″.

Who was the last person to say they loved you and when? Not sure, maybe one of my parents or one of my best friends.

What is the last thing you said aloud? “Already?” Cooper was nipping at my hoodie and he was able to destroy a part of the underside in like three minutes.

What was the last thing you had to drink? Coffee.

What is one thing that can ALWAYS be found in your freezer? At least one type of frozen goods, like tocino or hotdogs.

How many pets do you own? Two.

How old will you be turning on your next birthday? I’ll be 23.

Last time you went out of town? January.

First thing you wash in the shower? My hair, then I work my way down.

What kind of shampoo & conditioner do you use? I use a Dove shampoo and a Pantene conditioner.

Do you own something from Hot Topic? No.

Have you ever bought anything from Pac Sun? I don’t think so. We don’t have that here so there’s no reason for me to own anything from there.

How often do you hold hands with someone? Never. That’s a sensation I miss, for sure. But I’m fine – this is just my period talking HAHAHA

What was the most recent thing you bought? I got a Zinger from KFC because I was craving for fast food at 1 AM yesterday.

Could you ever forgive a cheater? Considering how stupid I can get when it comes to love, probably yes in certain situations.

Do you have Verizon? No.

Would you consider yourself to be spoiled? To a very, very tiny extent, especially compared to my siblings. I’m nowhere close to being a brat, though. 

Have you ever been pregnant? No.

What is your average cell phone bill? I’m on prepaid, so I load up my phone every week with a certain amount instead of paying for a consolidated bill every month.

How many piercings do you have? Two.

Do you start the water before you get in the shower or when you get in? I turn it on only once I’ve gotten in.

Have you ever had stitches? Nope and I’m terrified of the thought. I hope I’ll never have to need any.

Do you think it’s right for straight guys to get their tongue pierced? Eugh, outdated question. Next.

Are you more of a coffee or alcohol drinker? Coffee.

Do you have a wireless keyboard and mouse? No. I don’t use a mouse and my keyboard is already built into my laptop.

How many songs are on your iPod or MP3 player? I don’t regularly use either anymore.

Where did you get that shirt you're wearing? I’m pretty certain this is a hand-me-down from my mom.

What are your pet’s names? Kimi and Cooper.

Honestly, are you in love right now? Nope.

Honestly, what color is your underwear? Blue.

Honestly, do you think you are attractive? Some days.

Honestly, do your wrists hurt? Haha no, but my back and shoulders do.

Honestly, wouldn't you rather be having sex right now? Sure.

What would you do if the doctor told you that you were pregnant? Continued from this morning. Figure out a way to tell my parents without getting hit.

Was there anyone who "made your day"? Today? Not really.

Are you vegeterian? Nope.

How many windows are open in your computer? Two of Chrome, one of Spotify.

Do you read Perez Hilton? Ew, no. Does that guy still do stuff???

Is there a baby in the room with you right now? No.

Do you plan on moving within the next year? It’s nice to daydream about but likely not gonna happen.

Have you been to a baby shower? No.

What brand is your computer? Apple.

How many cars can fit in your driveway? 4-5 if we really want to make the most out of the available space, but at present it only has 2.

Are you taller than your mom? Nah. Everyone thought I would be, but then I just stopped growing. I am now the shortest member in the family hahaha.

Are you a cuddler? Only with significant others. I would feel uncomfortable if a non-SO cuddled me as I am not a touchy person to begin with, except when it comes to hugs.

Sleep on your back or stomach? Stomach. I could never sleep on my back; I feel too exposed.

Do you go to the bathroom with the door open or closed? I always close the bathroom doors. Kimi has the tendency to pee on the bathroom floor so I make sure he doesn’t follow me in there.

Do you dress for style or comfort? More for style. I do take comfort into account, but looking nice and feeling confident in my outfit honestly takes precedence for me.

Think of the last time you were angry. Why were you angry? 15,000 cases today.

Would you marry someone if they were unable to have sex? Yeah. It would even be a bit of a relief, honestly, because it means less pressure for me to have sex to please my partner.

Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry? Yes, both happy and sad tears.

Does heartbreak really feel as bad as it sounds? It depends on the person, I guess. Some can handle breakups well, and I’m not one of them.

How long has it been since you had sex? It would be 7 months this April.

Who was the last person to call you babe? My ex probably.

Last reason you went to the ER? I’ve never been to.

Were you a planned pregnancy for your parents? Yeah. They were having trouble conceiving at first, but my mom eventually found out she was pregnant with me on her 27th birthday.

How old was your mom when she gave birth to you? ^ 27.

Have you ever taken pictures in a photo booth? Yes, many times.

When was the last time you shaved your legs? A couple of weeks ago. I’ve been meaning to shave again but I’ve just been sooooooo lazy.

What facial cleanser do you use? I don’t use any products on my skin.

Do you use a blowdryer? Nope.

How many purses do you own?: 3 – I now have more than one! Haha. A month ago I had to buy bayongs from this small business for these PR kits we needed to send out and they included a couple of purses as freebies. Since we’re all working from home, I got to keep them since I was the one who placed the order heheh.

What are your top five favorite stores to shop for clothes? I really just stop by stalls of small businesses I see at the mall and see what trendy pieces I can get from them.

What kind of clothes do you mostly wear? I like halter and tank tops, paired with denim jeans.

What about shoes? Sneakers. You’ll rarely see me wearing anything else.

Have you ever cheated on the significant other that you have now?

For that one week a month, do you hate being a woman? I’ll feel icky about it every now and then, especially if my flow happens to be heavy; but for the most part I don’t have any complaints. I think bleeding out every month is actually kind of fucking hardcore.

What are your first thoughts when your visitor visits? Be relieved. I’ve never had irregularity issues with my period, so every time it comes it usually serves as a reassurance that there continues to be no problem.

Favorite underwear brand? Don’t have any.

Last thing you bought at the mall? Three new pods for my vape.

Do your parents like your boyfriend/girlfriend?

What color are your pillows? They’re the same style as my current bedsheet, so they’re also blue.

What if an ex asked to be back in your life? I think it would be nice if we would at least have lunch somewhere to catch up, then ask her what led her to that point.

Don’t you just love DVR? We didn’t use it often.

If you're on a laptop, how much charge does it have left? 93%.

Last gift you recieved? I got lunch from Bea after our virtual event with the media for one of our clients. Later that day, Kata also had banana bread delivered to my place :)

Lesson you recently learned? What to do when my candle starts tunneling, which I had looked up literally no more than 5 minutes ago because it started happening to my scented candle :(

[mcrmadness]

🌺💘🌷 GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS TAG 🌷💘🌺

Rules: When you get this, it means someone wants to know more about you, so list 5 things about yourself you want your followers to know! They can be as simple as your age or as complex as your deepest fear, as long as it’s something you’re comfortable with sharing. When you’re done and if you want to, send this to 10 people you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @cats-crushesandhistory, thank you!!! Tagging: @stufenlosregelbar, @hanhan156, @charlotte-lancer, @autumnrebel, @cupcakecurl, @lycanrvc, - six is enough for now. I’m probably forgetting about basically everyone, I literally had to go through these by letters because I can never remember anything when I should make a list and I still feel bad for not including _everyone. But I decided to include only those who I have interacted with at least a little bit - I literally don’t dare to speak to anyone unless they tell me first that I am allowed to approach them. I also did not tag anyone who I haven’t seen doing these tag games or who I don’t know if they like these or not. And all of you can also just skip this if this is not your cup of tea.

***

I can never write anything short (surprise...) so I’ll just give you a short list here and you can click the read more link and see more of my thoughs on each topic there.

I am a teetotaler and I have never even tried alcohol. I also don’t and have never smoked and I stay the f* away from drugs, too.

I love cats. Like, for real, they’re the best thing in this whole world.

I love all animals overall, and I am actually a horse groom, I have a the “Vocational Qualification in Horse Care and Management”, specializing in harness racing, and I have worked with horses for over 10 years so far.

As a kid, I was a huge dinosaur nerd and I still love them.

I love comics and I have also drawn comics since I was a kid. I still have all of my old comics saved. Lately I haven’t been drawing even nearly as much and only fanart, tho. Drawing is fun but I simultaneously love and hate it.

Lol it seems I have love for everything but humans :D:D:D:D:D:D I didn’t even realize that before making this list looooooooool XD But yeah, more rambling under the cut :D But thanks for reading, if you end up reading it.

1. I am a teetotaler and I have never even tried alcohol. I also don’t smoke (and never have) and I avoid drugs - so much so that I don’t know if getting ADHD medication would break this “rule” of mine because they are made from the same stuff as one well-known drug...

I think it started as me just being so “lawful” all the time and the legal drinking age in Finland is 18, so I wanted to follow the rules at all times so I didn’t even think about drinking before the age of 18 and I was often very much shocked by other teens who did that, and I also remember being really worried when my best friend started experimenting with alcohol as a teenager. Despite the legal drinking age being 18, basically everyone here still started (and starts?) drinking between the ages of 13 and 15. So at school, from Monday to Wednesday, all that happened was overhearing the drunk stories of other kids. And from Wednesday to Friday, it changed to them discussing their plans for the next weekend. It was like this every week. And I never could wrap my head around it (I spent my weekends at home being happy that I could have free time and play The Sims 2 or something).

Then at some point I guess I just felt like I don’t even need alcohol for having fun and I still haven’t felt like that, and I don’t think I ever will either. When I turned 18, I was super annoyed by everyone because EVERYONE asked me “So you’re turning 18, did you plan on going to a bar?” and I would always answer something like “I don’t even drink (alcohol) so why would I?” and what still annoys me a little is people telling me “That’s good. That’s a good decision, drinking is bad.” and like... if you really think so, why do you drink yourself, then?

2. I love cats. Maybe that is partially visible from my blog too but I really, really love cats, and for decades my favorite animal has been tiger. When I was born, we had already 3 cats in the house and the last one of them died when I was almost 13 (he would have turned 16 that year). Before I moved out at the age of 23, there was not a single day without cats and currently my parents have 4 (plus a dog). I am still dreaming of my own cat but I can’t take one now because animals are not allowed in my flat but whenever I move out of this, I will choose one with pets allowed and I will adopt a cat. Most likely a rescue cat if I can find one, or even two so they can keep each other company. As cute as kittens are, adult cats are also important and need homes.

3. I also love animals overall. I actually like them more than humans (but technically humans are just apes so they’re my least favorite animal, then) and when I was 7-years-old, whenever I was asked about my dream job, I always said or wrote “I don’t know, probably something to do with animals!” And since my teens I have had lots of different ideas for jobs but when I was 25, I graduated as a horse groom. And have been (on-off) working with horses for over 10 years now (currently unemployed). Originally I chose the horse work because I was so pissed by the capitalist system and the thought of an office job or job at a grocery store and such was just... ew, no, never! So I chose horses because if I have to work, then I will do something useful and someone’s gotta take care of the animals too and I love animals, and animal work doesn’t feel like work but more like a lifestyle, so I’ve been basically fooling the system AND myself by that. Sometimes I also dream of the work as a zookeeper.

4. As a kid, I was a huge dinosaur nerd and I still love them (Land Before Time FTW). With my siblings we had a huge collection of dinosaur toys and I also have always loved evolution and genetics, so what we did was to give an individual name for every dinosaur we had. And we knew the species of each of them, and we knew so many facts about them too. Each dino also had their own personality and we even created family trees for them. There were generations of these dinos and we also created this “growing up order” which meant we put them all standing next to each other, usually under my brother’s bed because we had so many of them and they didn’t fit anywhere else lol, from the youngest/smallest to the oldest. And our biggest mission, that never got finished, was “The Big Play” which was us playing that the ancestor parents aka the oldest and biggest of our toys were born and we would play with them and play how they grow older and eventually start having their own kids - who were the next generation in our “growing up order” :D

No wonder why I still love playing The Sims games, especially TS3! (I even have a Finnish simsblog.) Lots of the things I have done and loved as a kid still live so strong in me, they just come out differently than what they did then. Imagination and toys changed to video games, especially The Sims (but I did play video games a lot as a kid too) and my love for genetics and evolution is still really strong.

5. I love comics. My favorite comic book character of all times is Garfield - he’s a cat and I grew up with cats so obviously I fell in love with the Garfield comics too, and I grew up with them as well. My mom subscribed to the Finnish Garfield comic in the early 90s and I have full volumes starting from the year 1994. I also have lots and lots of earlier comics and I always hunt for them from second-hand shops and I don’t have too many of them missing anymore, and I’m really proud of my collection. I also collect Lucky Luke, Rantanplan and Asterix - I have almost all of the (Finnish publications of) Lucky Lukes and Rantanplan.

I have also always loved drawing and I drew my first actual comic when I was 9 or 10 years old. Before that I had been drawing lots of “image series”, one image per paper. I still have all my old comics here in a drawer and I have had so many different characters and majority of them have had endless “plots” aka no plots whatsoever :D Before I actually never drew humans, I started drawing human portraits as fanart when I was 16 and the first human comic characters I drew (also as a fanart) when I was 18 or so. Before that everything was animals of some sort - I have had ants, flies, dogs, cats, birds... even ghosts at some point, and I also created one very simple anthropomorphic creature just so that it was easy to draw and I could concentrate on drawing clothes and hair. Oh my god I loved drawing hairdos to these, and so often I had one female “main character” and I gave her a “growth spurt” where I just drew her in different ages until she was “adult” and I continued telling about her life as an “adult”. Very often these differen phases were literally phases, there were soooooo many different styles each just for one year :D Then at some point I started coming up with actual ideas and plots instead of just drawing whatever I felt like drawing. I still draw comics nowadays, but those are mainly fanart and I haven’t drawn about OC’s in years and currently I have no active ones (except for the “self-comics” about my deep thoughts etc.) and I don’t know how to create new ones, I just have no creativity unless it’s provoked by a fandom thing or when I get a base like The Sims 3 where I don’t have an empty canvas but am given the tools for creating something new.

It might be fun to share some of my old comics here one day but this blog isn’t really an “art blog”, even tho I post some of my drawings occassionally. But let me know if you’d like to see some and maybe I will make a post about that in the future.