#i would climb them like a tree too if given the opportunity girl

[divinemare]

violet sorrengail is relatable af bcos when girl said ‘you’re not attracted to toxic men’ trying to convince herself she wasn’t about to take her panties off for xaden is exactly how i would feel for my big three

azriel

rhys

and now fucking xaden riorson

like. same af girl

[milkyboybluewriter]

The Disappointing Case of Wendy Corduroy

Wendy Corduroy has a lot of potential, but too often is pushed to the side by a lot of fans, and even by her creator.  But not for lack of trying, or an interest in the character.  In fact, Alex’s idealised view of Wendy may have been her greatest obstacle in receiving a story of her own.  Dipper isn’t the only one who seems to consider her ‘the coolest person he knows.’

Wendy was inspired by the first girl who ever spoke to Alex Hirsch, as well as several people the creative team thought were cooler than them. These were likely special memories or people in order to base a fictional character on them.  But that puts her on a pedestal.  And when someone puts you up there, it’s hard for them to take you back down.  Either for fear of ruining you or concern that, when others look closer, they’ll be disappointed in what they see.

He wanted her to be a main character (in the same way Soos is, if not Stan, Dipper, or Mabel) but in many ways Wendy feels like a side character.  She never receives her own episode, and lacks the character arc that even some side characters like Pacifica and Robbie received.

Her family, her friends inside the Shack and out, her physical abilities and survival skills, the drama of being a teenager, not to mention being a resident of the weirdest place on Earth.  All of these can lead to a hundred stories across the spectrum.  So why do people not write more stories about her?

Maybe it’s because she wasn’t given the opportunity that others had.  

As a cool, older redhead, Wendy’s main role in the show was being Dipper’s crush.  Which already puts her at a disadvantage because it means they designed her purpose first, character second. In fact, this is probably why she changed so drastically from her vegan-hippie prototype seen in the Gravity Falls bible.  Everything from her boots to her hat has changed since then, save the way she makes Dipper’s heart go faster.  

Most of her appearances in season one featured this one-sided romance and Dipper’s attempts to impress her, which usually resulted in a morality lesson about being yourself and not doing dumb stuff to impress others.  Pretty standard cartoon crush territory.  But between the episodes, a real friendship bloomed. 

In The Time Traveller's Pig, she gives an indifferent shrug as she casually agrees to go to the fair with Dipper, yet before her injury - and in the timeline where she avoids it altogether - she’s shown to genuinely enjoy his company.  A couple of episodes later and she’s outright excited at the prospect of working alongside Dipper at the pool.  They have regular movie nights.  They crack jokes and tease the Shack’s customers.  Climb trees and play at the arcade.  Wendy spends more time with Dipper than any other character.  Which means she must care about him more than she does the rest.

The crush might be one-sided but the affection is not.

But in the DVD commentary of Into The Bunker, Alex Hirsch, Matt Chapman, and Rob Renzetti mention that fan feedback convinced them to end Dipper’s crush sooner rather than later, even supposedly having ‘KILL THE CRUSH’ as one of their main story goals for season 2.  Understandable.  The crush episodes weren’t always the best, and if it was always intended as an unrequited attraction then better to get it over with rather than draw it out.  And it’s a good lesson to have a young boy learn, especially around twelve.  Love and puberty are relatable, but no less frustrating for it.

Into the Bunker is my favourite episode for multiple reasons, not least for Wendy’s presence in it.  She shows off her friendship with Dipper in the cold open, reveals her lumberjack and fighting skills later, and shows she would be an excellent adventurer.  I see it as a prime example of What Could Have Been.  I especially adore the ending, where she lets Dipper down so gently, it’s a beautiful scene.  As sad as Dipper feels, he’s also been told by someone very special to him that he’s very special to her too.  Maybe not in the way he wants, but perhaps in an even more important way.  

I had high hopes after that episode.  I remember thinking this meant she would develop beyond just being his crush, especially now we’d seen her hold her own against the weirdness and danger.  I really wanted to see more of this adventurous, sensitive Wendy we’d missed in season one, and wanted her to be a regular companion and friend to the twins.

Wendy appears in 16 episodes in the first season, and 15 episodes in the second if you don’t split Weirdmageddon 3 into two.  In season one she appeared in but didn’t participate in the adventure of key episodes like Dreamscaperers or Gideon rises.  In season two, she joins the adventure in Society of the Blind Eye, The Last Mabelcorn, and the Weirdmageddon trilogy, but has limited interaction or story impact in most episodes, save Love God.   She only has what amounts to cameo appearances in Not What He Seems and Tale of Two Stans, two of if not the most important episodes of the series.  

Including each of the Weirdmageddon trilogy, she’s referenced via Dipper’s lingering crush six times, including episodes she doesn’t even appear in.  So, after Into The Bunker, Wendy goes from being Dipper’s crush to…his crush that appears less.  

Wow, they really failed that Kill the Crush mission, didn’t they?

Perhaps the biggest issue is that she is so keenly tied to Dipper.  I love the Dipper and Wendy relationship, I could write a massive essay on that alone.  But it is such an incredible waste that she didn’t get a chance to interact with the others nearly so often. Every other main character has relationships with others.  Soos has a father-son bond with Stan as well as a friendship with the twins.  Ford was introduced later in season 2 and still interacts with Soos and Fiddleford as well as his family.  It’s a hindrance to her character that most of her interactions were for Dipper’s arc, yet she received nothing of her own.  

Wendy spends some time with Mabel, trying to help her with boy trouble (not the best person to get dating advice from, Mabel) in Hand That Rocks the Mabel and Society of the Blind Eye, then goes along with the girls to keep them safe in Last Mabelcorn.  This lets us see her affection and big sister vibes don’t end with Dipper, and should have been explored far more.  Her interactions with Soos and Stan are also limited, mainly to the workplace.  Her only dialogue with Ford is one line in Journal 3.  

Yet we also never see her be by herself.  We never see her home life, or how she entertains herself away from her friends or work. She's always interacting with a main character or her group of friends.  No alone time or personal interests are seen beyond pranks and reading magazines to avoid work.

We even get to see Robbie Valentino’s home life and musical hobbies, but not hers.

This lack of independent material has even continued in the Book of Bill where two of her very limited mentions is in regards to Dipper being stuck on a tree and another is his search history.  Even her own dream is made into a joke at Dipper's expense.  Ten years later, and so much of her is tied to Dipper, specifically to mock his feelings for her.  I don’t know if that’s more insulting to Dipper or Wendy at this point.

Speaking of dreams, let’s get to another issue: her mother.  Who we know nothing about.  In a show so heavily focussed on mysteries, the fate of Mrs Corduroy is a question that’s been left hanging since season one and we have come no closer to an answer of any kind.  Even a direct question from fans on both the Alex Hirsch and Bill Cipher AMAs were answered so vaguely they told us nothing.  She’s no longer with her?  A Fountains of Wayne reference?  Even the Book of Bill’s reveal that Wendy dreams about her most nights says nothing.  Are these good dreams?  Nightmares?  Memories?  The implication is that she’s dead, yet not even that has been confirmed.  For all we know, Mrs Corduroy could be dead, missing, abandoned her family, or could be working on an oil rig for the summer.  Your guess is as good as anyone’s by this point. 

We know she’s Manly Dan’s oldest and his only daughter, but we didn’t even learn her brother’s names until a paste up sheet was released in 2017.  She barely shares a scene with any of them, and when it happens it’s in the background.  The only exception I can think of is their group hug in the Fearamid.  A tender moment which would have been so much better if we’d actually seen her engage with them beforehand.  Her lack of interaction is especially jarring considering her confession in Society of the Blind Eye:  "Okay, I'm not actually laid back. I'm stressed, like, 24/7. Have you met my family?"

Not really, no.  And for a show that’s about family as much as it is about mystery, it’s a shame that Wendy is let down in both areas.  

Even side characters like Robbie, Pacifica, and Grenda receive more character development, despite their limited importance or screen time.  In fact, it was recently pointed out to me that Archibald Corduroy, Wendy’s ancestor, is more integral to Pacifica than his own descendant.  Once again, Wendy’s interactions come up short, including from her own family.  

With the release of the Book of Bill, some people were hopeful that she might finally get some attention.  I wasn’t.  Personally, I think Bill simply has a low opinion of Wendy anyway since he called her a pushover in his AMA, so it can be fitting he doesn’t mention her often.  But it’s also the context of these mentions, and those on the website.  On Thisisnotawebsite.com she’s referred to twice - Her one contribution is a simple note where she pranks the reader.  Then she’s mentioned in Stan’s list of embarrassing moments.  

Ten years later and not only are her contributions incredibly minor, but they’re as much to do with other people as herself, if not more so.  She’s supposed to be a main character but she might as well be a cameo.

Her lack of representation is so bad, that I realised my friends were celebrating her being mentioned in The Book of Bill.  That’s how desperate we’ve become for Wendy material.  And I’m sick of it.   At this point, I’m anticipating a Wendy story as much as I am Winds of Winter.

Last month I was discussing some of my writing ideas with my father.  And he gave me a very hard truth: it doesn’t matter how good your ideas are, if you don’t act on them, they’re only ideas.  And he was absolutely right.  It doesn’t matter how great these ideas are in my head, if they’re only in my head then what good are they? 

Hirsch has been saying for years he’s wanted to do more with Wendy, but he hasn’t. Not in the show, the comics, or the other material.  Intentions, like ideas, are useless if you don’t do something about them.

I honestly hate how harsh this sounds.  I love Gravity Falls.  And I love Wendy.  And I believe Alex Hirsch does too, he just…doesn’t know what to do with her.  As he says in the Inconveniencing commentary: “We wanted to honour her so much that we couldn’t figure out the right episode with her because we didn’t want to mess her up.”  He’s put her on a pedestal just like Dipper did.  And I think she needs to come down so we can see how awesome she really is.

So, what can be done to fix this?  Well, when creators don’t have the time, interest, or ability to do something for a series, that leaves the fans to fill in the gap.  

I urge other Gravity Falls enthusiasts to try and give her the attention and character development she sorely deserves, especially now there’s a resurgence of activity and interest.  Draw or write her if you can, have her interact with other characters, not just be a crush, explore her depths.  And if you can’t, seek out those who have or can and ask their advice, or thank them for their work, offer encouragement.  For Wendy if not for them.

I want to leave this on a happier note and say that I’m going to follow this up soon with another essay, this time offering advice on writing Wendy.  Even talented writers I admire have surprised me by saying they struggle to write her, yet I’ve found it pretty easy.  So hopefully I can encourage other people to write her too.   

But if I could summarise what I want to see and what I think will help people write Wendy, it would be this: She’s not just Dipper’s crush, and she’s not just the cool girl.  She’s bigger than that.

She’s Wendy Flippin’ Corduroy and she deserves so much more.

Cheers, Milky Boy Blue

[hcdragonwrites]

River (Jttw-Monkeybuisness)

Ok I wrote another thing for @jttw-monkeybusiness there art inspires me and makes my brain itch and honestly I love Sophie to death so here you go!

And yes I suck at naming things when they are snippets of stuff I just usually name it what it’s about.

‘Getting water should be easy’ Sophie thought.

However it seemed that whatever gods were watching their trek today through China must have been bored and made this their entertainment for the evening.

Force the girl Buddha had plucked out of time to get water. Well it was unfair to assume it was the Buddha but whatever magical force actually had pulled her out of her time? Well that being was a massive dick. Sophie strained her arm, feeling the sway of the tree branch she clung to bobbed under her weight.

The banks of this river were steep as Trip and the group were making their way through mountains. The steep sides slide right into the dark water, rushing by in silent swirls of black- and offering no safe place for any traveler to easily reach it. The tree branch that Sophie now climbed upon, hung low enough off the steep riverbank, almost kissing the water with its bark. Moss had begun to grow from its limbs from the constant moisture. It offered Sophie a perfect opportunity.

She had both legs and arm hooked around the branch as it swayed, one free hand straining forward and dipping the water skins into the dark flow.

Jesus it’s freezing, she thought as her fingers dipped beneath the black current. Must be a runoff from a snow melt… If she fell into it she would be soaked and cold to the bone. Sophie shook herself, scattering that intrusive thought.

‘Only two more skins to go…’. She yanked the first one up, muscles burning. She lay flat, stomach hugging the branch and trying not to slip. Sophie wasn’t the most athletic person but she wasn’t a pushover either. Getting water was something she could do. Maybe she couldn’t fight Gods and humble the heavens like Wukong. Maybe she couldn’t breathe underwater and spear demons like Sandy.

Pigsy- well he was a fighter but mostly she had seen him run either away from a fight, pick a fight with Wukong, or fight to run towards women. Most of the time those women were demons in disguise that Wukong warned about. Sandy and her had a betting game going on silently between themselves as to which women were women and which were demons that wanted to devour Trip or herself. Mostly Trip but sometimes she would be mentioned.

So far the score was tipping in Sandy’s favor(who guessed mostly that the women they ran into were real women)- but only because the last village they had been in had been plagued by a child devouring rat demon. It was a morbid kind of way to make light of a situation that just kept recurring as Pisgy never learned.

Tripitaka even had his own abilities to commend, if some of those abilities didn’t translate over to combat. Staying still, meditating, being able to see the good in everyone - Sophie could hear Wukong now, thoroughly ripping into Trip for that belief- those were all traits that helped.

Sophie- a Girl out of time- was determined to have her own uses.

And if that was just doing minimal tasks then she would be GRAND at them!

She uncorked the last water skin and dipped it beneath the water as twilight began to descend into the gorge. The water turned black by the lack of light made Sophie’s stomach twist just a bit. There’s nothing in the water Sophie- nothing at all.

Her reassurances fell short. She had seen too much of demons and gods and magical mojo to really believe that nothing was staring up at her.

What happened next was a factor of several things. The first of those things we can lay blame at the feet of one Monkey King.

Sun Wukong had been given the task of collecting some fresh meat for the stew Trip was preparing and had sent Wukong to find some. The meat was mostly for Sophie and the rest but Trip would also partake. Being a Buddhist he usually kept to a strict vegetarian diet of noodles and soups. However, even he understood that on the road the pilgrims did not have much choice in diet.

So Wukong had gone, easily catching several rabbits and a large goose from further down the river. After his return and depositing them at Pigsys feet to be cleaned and prepped, Wukong was disappointed in the lack of praise. Usually bringing in a haul of food would give him some thanks- however the person that usually did the thanking was … missing.

“Where is the Reader?” Wukong demanded, arms crossing and tail lashing in annoyance.

Pigsy looked up at him from beneath bushy eyebrows. “Sophie,” Pigsy drawled, taking the first rabbit and cutting it clean of its pelt, “went to fill the water skins.”

“Alone? No one thought to go with her?” Wukong made a scoffing noise. Between her and the Monk there had been too many occasions where a demon had taken them as bait to lure out the infamous Monkey King. Didn’t she know by now that she couldn’t just wander off?

“She is not a Child, Brother.” Sandy interjected. The great water demon was sitting cross legged at the fire, stirring the pot. As Pigsy quickly and methodically cleaned the animals, Sandy was just as quick in adding them to the stew. The aroma was already becoming tantalizing. “She wanted a task and was given one. You know she does not like to be idle when there are things to do.”

“I wasn’t saying idleness was the correct answer.” Wukong picked at an invisible dust mote on his sleeve and flicked it away. He was feigning boredom when in reality he felt an itch under his fur. It was his responsibility to keep the mortals safe on this quest.

That included Trip and Sophie. The monk was easy to keep in one place, unless there were people that kept begging for help. Which - happened more than Wukong would care to admit.Sophie was … not so easily manageable.

That stupid women wanted to be as helpful as possible. Whether that be fetching supplies in town, carrying messages for the monk, or even tending to Yulong, she was always trying to keep busy. Which wouldn’t have been a problem for the Monkey King if it didn’t make his fur itch terribly so.

The itching would only go away after he knew she hadn’t gotten eaten by some wannabe river god.

“She needs to wait until I am back. Then she could have asked me for my help and I would have obliged.”

“I think the monkey likes Sophie.” Pigsy mock stage whispered, earning a murderous glare from Wukong. Pigsy flinched back, rubbing at the phantom pain on his head from the last time he had egged Wukong on a bit too much.

“She is only down by the river.” Sandy peacefully interjected before Wukong to react to Pigsys tone. “Just past the bend- I made sure she knew not to go farther.”

At least Sandy knew how danger inclined the mortals in their group were.

Wukong turned and left the camp, walking to the river not far off. The women wasn’t too far away to warrant an escort- she had learned from the last couple of times of almost being devoured or snatched up to not wander so far- but his fur wouldn’t lie flat on his shoulders. It itched terribly so. The sooner he could see her, the sooner the itching would go away.

As he came around the bend he saw her. Sophie was clinging to a tree that looked like it could be swept away into the river at any moment, legs hugging the branch as one hand dipped into the water. Her hair hung down, almost skimming the black surface. Wukongs fur stopped itching and he smoothed it down. Since no one but he was near Sophie to see, and she being too occupied by the river to even notice, he decided to indulge himself and stared openly.

When she had first joined their pilgrimage he had been pissed. Another human to take care of, to babysit, to feed was not what Sun Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, had signed up for. If he was being honest with himself, none of this pilgrimage was what Wukong had voluntarily signed up for.

Sophie was strange to boot. Fair of skin, eyes and hair, she looked like a spirit from some heavenly court. However she did not act like any women in the Jade Emperor's Palace, because on one of the more ridiculous of their days where The monk had almost been married to a demon queen and Wukong had to break through and kill a little too much, Sophie had let loose a string of curses that were so foreign and colorful that the Monkey King had been momentarily shaken from his indifference at her to turn and inquire to what those phrases even meant.

It had been the start to something Wukong would never admit openly to. It had grown since that day as he learned that, while she may look pretty, she was no women in courtly garb or village outpost. She had a sharp mind, always asking questions and trying to figure out the why and the how of everything. Why did Wukong have a staff that could shrink and be tucked in his ear? Where had Wukong learned to shapeshifter? How had he been able to master duplicating himself with just a bit of fur and spit?

Sophie was open about questions of herself- where she had come from, what she had done before (something about being an artist) and why she looked the way she did (this last bit was rude on Wukongs part and had had the monk use the circlet around his brow as a reprimand. ‘We don’t ask why they look a certain way Wukong," he had said. The Monkey king had not meant it rudley- more or less he just wanted to know where in the world other people like her existed - that looked like her.)

She didn’t like blood so that was a bit of a downside. But an upside was she wasn’t afraid to go toe to toe when the Monk was being so incredibly and unreasonably unfair in his punishments. Wukong didn’t kill too much. Just enough.

Wukong hadn’t had anyone stick up for him like that.

So Sun Wukong decided to play- though no one else would see it as such. Tormenting and teasing and egging and goading were usually not considered human equivalencies of play. On Flower Fruit Mountain those had been the height of games and pastimes. Finding the little things that would itch someone’s skin, that could in turn get right beneath the armor of good words and embarrass the person enough to stumble out of their rehearsed facade and reveal the true self was a specialty of the Monkey Kings. He had done so with all the attendants in Heaven, with all the would-be demon conquerors that marched onto his doorstep. Dig at something long enough and you will find what makes them tick

So Wukong poked at Sophie’s person. He took things from her bag when bored and kept them away (it wasn’t hard and he didn’t have to even make himself bigger to do so). Wukong would try and goad her into playing pranks with him, sometimes even dragging her halfway through one before letting her know that it was a prank. He would answer her questions, insult her intelligence by calling her stupid women, and challenge her on her moral standings. He did everything in the monkey fashion that would be considered teasing and mildly bullying to figure out who she was.

He didn’t realize till it was too late that this had become more than a game to him. He was enjoying this.

Wukong didn’t get to watch her openly. Pigsy would think him infatuated with her and then he would become insufferable. That couldn’t happen. So Wukong would steal glimpses, brush shoulders, take hidden moments like when Sophie had turned to him, eyes shining and bright, and had begged to be lifted up so she could pet a few monkeys perched within a tree. Wukong could still feel the weight of her on his arm, the smell of her. She had been so enamored with the monkeys above that he didn’t have to worry. He could watch her without disguise.

Like he was now. Her face was screwed up in concentration, lip between her teeth as she corked the water skin and swung it onto the bank. She may be a weak mortal but she had good aim. Sophie placed the last one in the water, blue eyes glittering in the twilight. He would have to teach her how to properly hang. She was so limited in movement on that branch, clinging to it like a cat. It was improper and she could still easily slip into the water and be lost. It was a good thing Wukong was here then.

So it was, in part, the Monkey Kings fault for what happened next. And in part, Sophie’s mind is at fault. Wukong was as silent as a tiger, walking up and onto the tree without a sound. And as he was silent and watching, Sophie’s mind was loud and preoccupied.

She only had one more skin to fill but her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought of there being some beast or creature watching her. Waiting for her. It was just like the irrational fear children get when they swim into the deep part of a swimming pool- that somehow someway a shark would come from the clear cemented depths and devour them.

Only- this wasn’t a clear swimming pool. And this wasn’t some childhood fear anymore. Sophie had seen Tripataka almost go underwater from a river monsters grasping hands. If it hadn’t been for Sandy at that time, the monk would have drowned. She shivered. The sooner she got back to camp and away from the spooky dark water and the night, the better.

“There!” She felt the weight was sufficient enough and quickly corked the water skin. Sophie could get down now, off this tree and back into the warm and comforting light of the fire. Maybe she could ask Wukong for another of his stories- well histories as he called them. He was good at telling stories- if they were centered around himself. She went to throw the water skin, already calming down—

Eyes.

Glowing eyes watching her from above. Something human shaped in the foliage—

“Fucking shit!”

Panic set in and instinct. She flinched back, dropping the skin—

And slipping headfirst into the water. The cold shocked her body, screaming for her to get UP GET OUT DANGER- and she kicked back to the surface, spluttering. The current however was stronger than she thought and was already yanking her down to begin with. Her clothes were a weight that the water happily tugged down, mangling it with the current.

Something shot out and grabbed her around the middle and pulled.

OH GODS THERE IS A WATER DEMON THATS IN HERE! Sophie swung out, flailing wildly to get free. Her hands hit something but it was like hitting stone. She would not end up as someone’s meal or bride or servant or anything else. The thing that had a grip on her didn’t let go. But it didn’t haul her under- it hauled her up. As she breached the surface, she spat water from between her lips, her hair blocking her face.

She breathed in just enough air to start threatening.

“WHOEVER OR WHATEVER YOU ARE, JUST KNOW IF YOU EAT ME YOU WILL REGRET IT.” Sophie breathed in more air so she could get louder- if she was loud enough maybe Sandy or Pigsy would hear. If Wukong was back he would definitely hear her. She had to fight until she could get enough air in her lungs to holler louder. She swung again, connecting to what felt like a face- but it was like runing her hand into a brick wall. “I HAVE A FRIEND WHOS THE BEST MONKEY IN THE WHOLE WORLD WHO WILL SKIN YOU—“

Another hand caught her wrist, holding away. Sophie would just have to swing her free hand around and —

“Stop fucking flailing women you will bring the whole branch back into the river !” The person hissed and Sophie paused. She pulled the wet hair out of her face with her free hand.

“Wukong?”

The Monkey King was holding her close, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other holding one of her previously flailing wrists. His eyes were narrowed to angry yellow slits.

“You idiot who else would it be ?” His face was wet from where Sophie must have obviously punched him and splashed water at him.

“What are you doing out here- I thought-“

“I came to fetch you since you were taking so long and everyone was worrying about you.” He adjusted his grip, and hopped off the branch and back onto solid earth. “Then you had to go and dunk yourself into the river like a fool and I had to fish you out. I was also able to get the water skin you almost lost. ” He held up the skin, tossing it onto the bank.

“I didn’t dunk myself in the river !” Sophie pushed off of Wukong and he let her go, crossing his arms. “If you weren’t spookily hiding in the branches with your glowing eyes I wouldn’t have panicked and lost my grip!”

“I can’t believe you hit me…”

“Of course I would hit you! I DIDN'T KNOW IT WAS YOU!” Sophie shouted.

“You should know me enough by now that I’m not like every other gripping demon out there!”

“Wukong how would I know when I’m half drowning in the water and I can’t see you?!” Sophie countered. He rolled his eyes, collecting the cast off water skins she had thrown onto the bank, grumbling about mortals and being blind.

“What were you doing?”

Wukong didn’t reply to her, his tail twitching agitatedly. Sophie looked down at herself. She was drenched from head to bare foot in water. Her skin was already starting to break out in goosebumps as the sun sank behind the mountains, casting the gorge into shadow.

“Why were you hiding in the branches?” Sophie pressed, collecting her shoes and holding them in hand. She would have to be careful walking back not to step on anything. Putting her shoes on now would only get them wet from her pant legs being sodden. Wet shoes were also not fun to walk in and they had a long trek tomorrow. Trip wanted to get to the next monastery and have as he liked to call it “an honest meal” which mostly consisted of mushrooms, noodles and broth. Trip was a vegetarian by nature but on the journey he did at times have to make sacrifices.

“Again I wasn’t hiding. The great Sun Wukong doesn’t hide.” Wukong replied, combing his wet fur back into place. “I was coming to fetch you and bring you back for supper. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“Did you call out to me?”

“I was making enough noise a deaf and blind beggar could have heard me!” Wukong patted his pant leg where the majority of the water had gotten onto him. It wasn’t as bad as the full drenching Sophie had taken.

Sophie could smell the lie even as Wukong ignored her angry glower.

“Bull-bull s-shit!” She challenged but it came out between chattering teeth. Fuck it got cold fast.

Wukong paused in his own musings, hands pausing in inspecting himself and turned. He peered up into Sophie’s face, so close that he was almost nose to nose. The Monkey King looked at her eyes, down to her lips, then across the rest of her.

“Um… Wukong?”

“You're cold.” Wukong tapped his own lips, and pointed out the raised goose flesh on her arms. “Blue lips and bumps mean cold” His voice was much softer now. “Stupid women.”

He stepped back, hands crossing over his chest again. He looked her up and down then demanded “Take that off.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I’ll turn around, just take off your wet shirt!” Wukong shouted back. “You have those dry … er, shorts right?”

“Yes back in my bag.”

Wukong nodded once.

“Good. Take off your shirt.” He turned around, good to his word.

Sophie did so- shivering as the cold air clung to her skin. The cloth was heavy with water and she sighed. It wouldn’t be dry until well into tomorrow- she would be forced to wear her ‘otherworldly’ clothing. It was fine by her but if they stopped by a village it also meant she would have to wait outside. Sophie had learned the last time that walking into a village with odd clothes could be one of several different reactions, all mostly negative and involving the villagers calling her a demon or witch. Or throwing rocks at her. As she peeled herself free from the sodden clothing the night air kissed her skin and sent her teeth chattering harder. “D-done.”

Wukong hadn’t turned around but he had divested himself of his own robed shirt, holding it out and behind himself. Sophie tried not to stare at his back too long.

“Put it on.” It was kindness Sophie wasn’t expecting. Wukong, the last time he had given her his shirt to wear, had been an order from Tripataka. She had to wash her clothes after a heavy rainstorm had her falling in mud. Of course she had had no spare tops- they all needed to be washed from the travel smell and the dirt. So Trip had ordered Wukong to give up his shirt. It hadn’t been willing kindness but Sophie had still taken it as that.

But this? This was unexpected. Sophie opened her mouth to reply when Wukong continued, “I can’t believe I’m going to have to wash it again of your stink.”

Well so much for kindness. Sophie thought. First the monkey had scared her into the river. Then he had rescued her and blamed her for falling in? All because she couldn’t hear him? She didn’t believe that- not for a second. Great Sage Equal to Heaven Sun Wukong had not been walking loudly. He hadn’t even tried to call out to her to get her attention. What had he been doing when he was on the branch? How long had he been there?

Well, Sophie thought, I should be more aware of my surroundings- or at least not let my mind run away with the rest of my senses.

Though in all fairness if Wukong had wanted to sneak up on her, she would never have known. He was too quiet for his own good and it played into how well he could slip frogs into Pigsys blanket roll.

Sophie shrugged the shirt up and over her head, feeling the residual warmth from Wukong already transferring to her skin.

“At least you won’t get sick and worry the Monk.” Wukong said. Sophie tapped his shoulder and he turned. Without asking, he grabbed her sodden shirt and held it out in front of him.

He may have caused her to fall in. He may have been trying to scare her or something else. But he had pulled her out of the river. He had given her his shirt- free of an order. Sophie was beginning to read the guilt through his actions. Whatever Wukong had meant to do- he hadn’t meant to do that.

“…. Thank you Wukong.”

He grunted, holding Sophie’s shirt in one hand like someone would hold a gross bug.

“What would you do without me? You are completely incapable of keeping yourself safe. Too weak to fight, and too uncoordinated to even balance properly. What were you doing using only one arm for the water? You should have hooked your legs over the trunk instead. ” Wukong walked only a pace ahead of Sophie, slowing whenever she winced over the ground. At least the ground was only slightly rocky here.

“Maybe I wouldn’t fall in rivers because the person that is so worried about my safety didn’t just scare me half to death.” She shot and Wukong merely grinned wider.

“ It seems you forget how to say ‘You are Welcome Wukong’ ! It was just a dip in the water and I was right there to keep you from drowning.”

“Uh huh.”

“ It was needed.” He sniffed the drenched clothing and grimaced, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “You did stink.”

“Oh hahaha let me laugh it up- not like there’s soap and a bathtub waiting at every spot we stop.” Sophie rubbed her arms, pulling her hair back from her face to tuck behind her ears. “You stink too when you come back from slaughtering half a hoard of demons ya know?”

“I take care of myself. Unlike you.”

“I thought you were some river monster coming to drown me and eat my bones you ass.” Sophie tilted her head and squeezed some water off the edges of her hair. She was going to need a brush, the bits of hair already curling and tangling together. “Lurking in the shadows above me is not a way to reassure a girl you aren’t there to devour them.”

“All the more reason,” Wukong crowed, “Not to go without an escort. If you are going to go anywhere, you have to take me with you. You are in a King's care after all. It reflects badly upon my own standing as King and guardian of this pilgrimage if you end up between the teeth of some demon. Mortals like you and the Monk should know this by now.”

“Sandy knew where I was.”

“And look at the good that did you.”

There was no popping Sun Wukongs bubble of pride- he had already wrapped this story up as a great rescue of some kind. He didn’t grin about it, but Sophie could see he was indifferent to the chaos he had caused her. She wished she could throw him sometimes. Maybe he would think twice about scaring her if she could dunk him in a river.

“…stupid monkey.”

Wukong turned at that, grinning now with all teeth. The game was afoot now in full force and he felt it.

“What we’re you saying as I pulled you up? Something like “A friend whos the best monkey in the world?’”

“If he really was the best he wouldn’t have half drowned me.” Sophie pointed out, sniffing. They were nearing the fire, and the smell of Sandy’s stew was enough to make her stomach give an audible gurgle.

“I didn’t.” Wukong corrected, helping her over a bit of prickly thorn bushes without being promoted. Maybe he did feel a smidge guilty then. He usually had to be begged to assist - or ordered by Trip. “ You slipped. It’s not my fault you can’t hear or see, stupid women.”

“Keep telling yourself that Wukong. Maybe you’ll make it true.”

As Sophie entered the camp she was bombarded from all sides by the concern of her fellow pilgrims. Sandy rose from the fire- a bowl of stew already being shoved in her hands. Pigsy threatened and yelled at Wukong enough that both of them started to get into a spat. Tripitaka had to stand, to command them to stop before it escalated from mere name calling to physical fighting. Trip then held out Sophie’s bag and she gratefully took it and dipped behind a bit of greenery several paces beyond to change out of her drenched pants and into the comfy pajama shorts and a comfy hoodie. When she came back Pigsy was still growling out threats while a disinterested Wukong cleaned his nails. He looked up briefly at her then away.

“When we reach the next village we will grab you a spare.” Tripitaka spoke around a bowl of noodles. He had opted just for noodles tonight, leaving the meat to the rest of the group. His smile was kind and apologetic. “Sophie you will probably have to wait outside the village till we can get you a replacement.”

She nodded. She could risk going into the village with her regular attire on but … being chastised and poked at by the villagers was not a pleasant experience. Once was enough for her.

“When you guys go into the village could you ask for some healing balm- or maybe a big hat?” Sophie looked to Sandy. “The sun is really starting to burn my skin and I only have so much left of my other world stuff.” Trying to describe the items in her bag at times left different reactions from the group- or more questions. Sophie didn’t want to answer those questions at the moment, hungry and cold.

Sandy nodded, passing a bowl to Wukong on her right. “I will ask for you, Sophie.”

As the group dug into their suppers and then settled for the night, Sophie was glad the fire was banked high. The chill was being chased from her bones and, even if the ground wasn’t comfortable, she looked on the bright side. She hadn’t been eaten. As Wukong took the first watch and Pigsy already was snoring, Sophie closed her eyes—

And woke to the stars still shining in her face as something bumped beside her head. She startled up, blinking out the sleep that clung.

“Hello-?”

“Shhh.” Wukong was crouched beside her, his tail being the culprit of what woke her up. His face looked tired with sleep, the scowl deeper and more furious. He shoved something into Sophie’s lap. She looked down. They were new clothes- a robbed top and pants.

“If you tell the Monk I stole it, I will give you a thorough washing in the river.” Wukong hissed, pulling at Sophie’s bag and rummaging through the contents. Well there he goes again, just digging through my stuff. It didn’t bother her anymore since Wukong rarely kept any of the items of hers he pocketed. He pulled out the coin string, taking some of the bronze rings. “I’m taking some of these so it looks like I bought them. Got it ?”

“So you are feeling guilty for startling me into the water.” Wukong opened his mouth, to argue, to plead his case that no he was not feeling guilty he was Sun Wukong and he did not feel guilt, when Sophie smiled up at him and laid back down.

“It’s ok. Your secret is safe with me-“ she grogely replied, laying back down and curling over the clothes. Sophie patted the ground beside her. “Your watch is over right?”

“Yes.” His head was cocked to the side, like a dog confused.

“Good. Get some sleep.” Sophie closed her eyes. She didn’t hear him move off but she knew he had settled just a bit away from her.

“And Wukong?”

A grunt from behind her- already settling into his spot, back to her.

“Thanks. I forgive you for almost drowning me.”

“I didn’t drown you.”

“I’ll take that as ‘your welcome’.”

[wheneclipsefalls]

you know i just love your little gift fic but i gotta admit you missed the opportunity to have reader deal with the trauma of being sold to an alien to joke that “she got adopted as an alien cat person pet human” and just make jokes that netayem is her owner and she’s his pet. like if he gave me a phone im definitely gonna make tictoks everyday about what it’s like living as an alien’s pet human. just go “yeah so i got adopted by my owner 3 days ago but he hasn’t given me a name yet just keeps calling me pet. but he’s a pretty good owner he feeds me everyday and lets me sleep in his bed and not on the floor and he gives me pets and lets me go outside sometimes except when he calls me bad human and keeps me inside his house like when one time he caught me trying to climb a tree and i got punished anyway i got to keep getting these shots every morning which sucks cause they hurt but he says it’s so i don’t die which i guess makes sense because if i die then my owner gets sad his pet human died so i just have to tolerate them but if i behave when he gives me the shot he calls me a good girl and give me a treat! so yeah being a pet is not so bad i kinda like it i just wish his brother would stop annoying me.”

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

STOPPPPP!!!!

This made me laugh so hard! This may not be how reader would react but honestly this is what I would do too! Being a pet sounds like a cozy little lifestyle especially when it is with Neteyam.

I one hundred percent would be eating up every single on of the tik toks!!! hahahahahahahahahahaha

[animeladybug]

Happy Felix Day!

Since Friday the 13th lands in October this year, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to patch together this quick little birthday fic for our favorite grumpy espresso kitty.

"Swiss?"

"Huh?" Alya turned to face her friend with a somewhat confused expression.

"Swiss chocolates? Does he like those?" Marinette inquired.

"I don't know. He's rich, so.. maybe.." Alya trepidatiously responded.

"Maybe German made stuff?" Marinette asked again as though she hadn't heard the answer. Her ahoge curved into a sort of question mark shape.

"Peanut butter." Alya quickly countered.

"Huh?" Marinette turned and acknowledged Alya for the first time since the conversation started.

"From what I've seen in his very close circle, Felix likes peanut butter candy. His Dad won't let him eat chocolate at all, but when he gets an opportunity, it's THAT one." Alya concluded with a wry smile.

"HUH?! So.. That means.. If someone GAVE him some candies like that…" Marinette half-whispered to herself, a crimson blush beginning to cross her cheeks. Her ahoge now curving into the shape of a heart.

"Like a certain LUCKY BUG perhaps?" Alaya hinted in a mild tone, capping it off with a wink.

"ALYA! SHHH!" Marinette frantically shushed, holding her index finger to her mouth with a panicked expression.

"Oh, it's okay.." Alya assured her friend with a casual glance around the campus grounds "No one can hear."

"You can never be TOO careful!" Marinette replied in a hushed tone and a suspicious expression, her ahoge now slowly spinning in circles like a radar. "Besides.. I CAN'T use my powers for selfish reasons, you know that! Something bad would happen to Felix or me!"

Alya simply heaved a sigh and replied "Mari dear, you don't take enough risks. If you love Felix THAT much, you've got to be willing enough to do something wild to get his attention!"

"I..I do love him, Alya.." Marinette replied timidly, her ahoge reflecting the heart shape once more. "But a birthday gift has to be carefully thought out. Besides, I DO have a plan.." She said. A slight grin beginning to form on her lips.

"THAT'S my girl! Always resourceful!" Alya smiled back.

Suddenly, the cheerful mood was cut short by a stray black cat traipsing by.

"Just a coincidence.. Don't worry." Alya attempted to assure her friend.

"SHUT UP!" Felix Sphinx shouted as he tossed the book halfway across the room, it just barely missed Plagg, his floating black cat fairy near the edge of his private library.

"HEEEY! Watch it! That was too close for comfort!" He complained.

"DON'T push me!" Felix snapped back at the mischievous creature. "I'm NOT going to let THIS birthday end up like the rest! I'm GOING to find a way to woo Ladybug!"

"Well, you don't have to take it out on me just because you can't stand some constructive criticism, birthday boy!" Plagg spat, crossing his arms defensively.

"For it to be constructive criticism, Plagg, it has to be CONSTRUCTIVE to begin with! All you've given me is DESTRUCTIVE criticism!" Felix growled, digging his face into the book he'd been reading. [Some peanut butter chocolates would really hit the spot right now..] He thought somewhat distantly.

Marinette sweated feverishly.. Carefully inserting the peanut butter interiors into each small chocolate pieces on her kitchen counter with the skill of a surgeon.

"Mari.. I really think you're overworking yourself!" Tikki, the small ladybug fairy imparted as she floated near her.

"Tikki! I've been making pastries since I was a child! I THINK I know what I'm doing!" Marinette responded tersely.

"Yes, but HOW LONG have you made them while KNITTING a scarf with your TOES?!" Tikki demanded.

"I'm on a time crunch, okay?!" Mari replied snippishly.

The next day, Marinette's ahoge probed around the large oak tree located near the school bench where Felix sat reading a book. With expert stealth and skill, she climbed the tree up towards the top, with a bundle carefully cradled in her free hand. Her ahoge then pointed forward slightly, as though acting like a targeting site near the empty seat near him. Then, with the grace of a trained bombardier, dropped the payload, which landed with a light thud next to the object of her affection!

Felix's eyes flared open with surprise, instinctively taking a combat position as he looked around with confusion only to see not a foe in sight. He cautiously looked over to see the bundle wrapped in decorative paper near him. Examining a tag attached, it declared in fanciful script "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FELIX!" His eyes still wide with surprise as they darted up to the treetop above him!

Marinette lay perfectly still on the limb she was wrapped around.. Trying her best not to betray her position. [Please don't let him see me! PLEASE don't let him see me!] She thought.

After a few more seconds and a sniff of indifference. Felix picked up the package and sauntered off with it.

[YES! He took it! He took..] Marinette began to think elatedly, before quickly losing her grip and tumbling from the tree! Now flat on her back in the soft grass, whatever nagging discomfort she felt was blocked by a sense of relief.. "Happy Birthday, Felix, my darling.." She said softly to herself.

"HEY! FREEZE!" Ladybug shouted to the sure-footed thief now bolting from one moonlit rooftop to another!

"HA! Nice try kid, but I'm outta.. HEEAAAAA!" The thief began to turn and taunt before he slipped and slid on roof tiles that suddenly came loose and attached to his feet, which he then proceeded to become entangled into a clothesline suspended in between two buildings.

From out of the shadows, Chat Noir casually sauntered over and snatched the stolen purse out of the thief's hand. "Sorry, pal. You're fresh outta LUCK!" He remarked.

"Hey, thanks again.." Ladybug remarked somewhat reservedly.

"Hmmph.. My pleasure, mon cherie.." Chat replied, swaggering over to the object of his desire. "You know.. Tonight is Friday the 13th.. And it's known to be.. quite unlucky.. Perhaps you'd be better off if a certain black cat crossed."

"OkaythanksI'mgoingtogivethisbacktotheladyhestolethisfrombye!" Ladybug declared in a rapid fire delivery, before leaping off the rooftop.

"Sigh This truly IS an unlucky day.." Chat moped.

Ladybug, having returned the purse to its rightful owner and now cascading carefree from the lampposts and rooftops on the slightly chilly Paris night couldn't help but notice something was different about the somewhat irritating fellow vigilante.. Something familiar.. About the scent of his breath..

[Peanut butter?] She thought to herself.

[imhereformr]

Can you do number 2 for Tecmy? I totally see it happening

Tecmy #2: They end the phone call with an accidental ''love you'', leaving you flustered

He didn’t know why he’d called her. They had just gotten back from their date, but Timmy missed the sound of Tecna’s voice already. She sounded confused when she picked up, but they soon fell into their regular rhythm. A game was chosen, and phones were switched for headsets.

Tecna destroyed him, just like she did at every game they played, and he was fine with that. Brandon teased him about constantly losing to his girlfriend, but Timmy couldn’t care less. The teasing became nothing when Tecna was his girlfriend; when he remembered that the most brilliant, beautiful woman to walk the dimension had chosen him.

They played three rounds, which was about two more than they should have given that he’d gotten in close to ten and each round took an hour to an hour and a half to complete. Tecna would have tomorrow morning to sleep in – not that she ever did – but Timmy would have to be up at 6 am for Codatorta’s morning workout – mandatory for all fourth year Red Fountain students and absolutely killer. He told her he should get some sleep and she wished him goodnight, but then he thought of something he’d completely forgotten to tell her and somehow they’d ended up talking for another half hour.

“You need to sleep, Timmy” Tecna reminded him after the third oh, and.

“I know...” he sighed. “Goodnight Tecna.”

Timmy started signing off and getting ready to shut down his system when the words came through.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

Timmy’s hand hovered over the power button, but he’d already pressed it and, before he could fully register her words, the connection was gone. Had she... She said... No? Yes? She said she loved him? He imagined it. He was tired. Tecna wouldn’t...

He called her. He needed confirmation that he wasn’t losing his mind. She declined the call. Tecna always answered his calls regardless of what time it was or what she was doing or what he was supposed to be doing (like sleeping); she always answered. That meant...

She’d said it.

She loved him?

She loved him.

Timmy sat on his bedroom floor for close to forty minutes replaying the words over and over again. She loved him. He couldn’t believe it. She loved him. A smile spread across his face. Tecna loved him. Goofball, awkward, nerdy him. Gods, he really couldn’t believe it. He was so lucky.

How was he going to act the next time he saw her or spoke to her? He was going to do something stupid. He always did something stupid at times like this. She would say hello and his brain would turn to a giant pile of mush remembering that she loved him, and then she wouldn’t love him anymore. How was he going to handle this?

And then a thought came to him...

How was Tecna handling this? Tecna, who had had to watch him almost get murdered by the trix in The Wildlands to come to terms with her crush on him. Tecna, who, after they’d rescued her from the Omega Dimension, had quietly thanked him for not giving up, hugged him and requested that he sit silently with her because it was too much for her to handle. Tecna, who, up until this past year, never admitted to her friends that she cared for them (they already knew that though).

It had started raining some time in the last four hours. Timmy only realised that once he was riding his bike down the road that connected Alfea and Red Fountain. He hadn’t taken a helmet. There was no time to find one.

He reached Alfea in record time, parking his bike just beyond its gates. He crossed the grounds of the school and climbed the tree Flora had grown outside the girls balcony in record time. Riven would be proud, Timmy thought as he climbed over the railing to their balcony. Riven would be even prouder of him for how smoothly he picked the door to the girls’ suite. (Never waste an opportunity for knowledge his father had always said, though Timmy was sure that Riven’s borderline criminal knowledge wasn’t what his dad had had in mind).

“Timmy?” Musa whispered as she opened hers and Tecna’s door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I need to see Tecna” he replied. “It’s important.”

“She’s sleeping.”

“Yeah dude, it’s like three A.M” Riven stage whispered from behind the singer. The magenta-haired specialist came up behind his girlfriend and, in a rare sweet moment, wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed the top of her head.

“Please” Timmy begged. He was dripping wet, exhausted and desperate. He would fight both of them to get to Tecna if he needed to.

“Musa? What’s going on?” Tecna’s groggy voice came from behind the door. Timmy stood at attention at the sound. The singer leaned back, informing Tecna that he was at the door.

“Oh.” Tecna’s voice sounded cautious. He definitely hadn’t imagined it. She would never be so unsure of his presence if she didn’t have a reason to panic. “Let him in.”

Musa stepped back, ushering him into the room. A light by Tecna’s bed had been turned on and the fairy – his girlfriend – sat up, gripping the edge of her blanket tightly with a blank expression. He headed towards her, blind to the rest of the room. Part of him wanted to blurt out the purpose of his visit, but this was Tecna and she wouldn’t handle that well, so he approached her quietly and, thinking better of sitting on her bed in his wet pants, pulled her computer chair over to the bed.

“Could we have the room?” Tecna requested quietly.

“Sure.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Riven, shut the fuck up. This isn’t even your room” Musa snapped back. Timmy turned his eyes towards the couple just in time to see her grab his upper arm and yank him off the bed. “Come on” she demanded. Riven made a sound that Timmy was pretty certain was a laugh, then stood up and followed behind her without further complaint, closing the door as he went.

“Tecna, I-”

“You heard, didn’t you?”

“I... yeah. I heard.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he questioned. What could she possibly have to be sorry for? She had made his night; his day; his week; his year; maybe even his life. He leaned forward and adjusted his glasses. There were still water drops on the lenses, but he looked past them. Tecna made herself smaller on the bed. She’d stopped fiddling with the blanket.

“It slipped out. I was thinking about how you kept finding reasons to stay up with me and how you always find reasons to stay up with me, and then I started thinking about you and just... everything that you are and how great you are and I guess I just... I understand if it... I don’t know...”

He understood. She thought she had messed up. His heart broke at her uncertainty and belief that her words could freak him out.

“Tecna, I love you.” He moved the chair as close to the bed as possible and reached over to take her hands in his. Tecna – his Tecna who hated physical contact – gripped his hands tightly. He watched in pure ecstasy as her expression shifted from uncertainty to confusion to happiness. The smile on her face could light the whole of Magix, and succeeded in filling him with even more love than he thought possible. “I have loved you since the very beginning. I can’t even begin to put into words how incredible I think you are and how much I love you.”

Any other words were lost as Tecna threw herself into his arms almost knocking him out of the chair. He held her tight, kissing her shoulders and the side of her face – any part of her he could reach. They stayed like that, awkwardly intertwined and blissfully uncaring, for a few more minutes in silence.

She insisted he stay. When he pointed out that he was wearing wet clothes, she found one of Musa’s baggy shirts from their closet and Riven’s sweats on the floor for him. Once he was changed, he crawled into bed with her. He didn’t dare get too close because this was still Tecna, but she cuddled right up to him. He wrapped his arms around her and that was how Musa and Riven found them when, likely frustrated from being kicked out of the room for so long, they came back an hour later: Tecna, fast asleep and drooling on Timmy’s chest, and Timmy, wide awake with his cheek resting on top of her head because he couldn’t sleep. Why would he want to when the best moment of his life was right now?

[esther-dot]

why is jon always calling ppl ugly??? the minute he meets shireen he calls her ugly and for WHAT

I did not remember Jon calling everyone ugly 😂

"Princess." Jon inclined his head. Shireen was a homely child, made even uglier by the greyscale that had left her neck and part of her cheek stiff and grey and cracked. "My brothers and I are at your service," he told the girl. Shireen reddened. "Thank you, my lord." (ADWD, Jon IX)

In this I differ with a lot of the fandom and think many descriptions are for the reader, not always an indicator of the POV's feelings, but just an opportunity for the writer to let us know what the characters look like. I think Jon and Val offers a pretty clear example of this. Her beauty pops up a lot but until ADWD, Jon XI, I didn't think we were being guided to think it affected Jon much?

"Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. "He always climbed too fast." She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist." (ASOS, Jon X)

"Val was a stranger to him. She was not hard on the eyes, certainly, and she had been sister to Mance Rayder's queen, but still . . ." (ASOS, Jon XII)

"Val stood beside him, tall and fair. They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. Beneath an ermine cloak, she wore white and gold. Her honey-blond hair had been done up in a thick braid that hung over her right shoulder to her waist. The chill in the air had put color in her cheeks." (ADWD, Jon III)

There are more, but you get the idea. These all read as just, descriptions to me. I don't feel any particular interest on Jon's part, she is beautiful, we're told so, fine. But then we get this:

"Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him. They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely." (ADWD, Jon XI)

We get the description of her hair and eyes and cheeks that we've had scattered throughout any scene with her, but this time, we get the nudge. Jon is attracted.

So, for the description of Shireen, it simply reads as telling the reader about her appearance, I don't get any negative feeling from Jon, and it’s quite a juxtaposition when he is repulsed, not by Shireen, the “ugly” princes, but by Val, the beautiful “princess”:

"North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago." This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. "Princess Shireen is the queen's only child." "I pity both of them. The child is not clean." "If Stannis wins his war, Shireen will stand as heir to the Iron Throne." "Then I pity your Seven Kingdoms." "The maesters say greyscale is not—" "The maesters may believe what they wish. Ask a woods witch if you would know the truth. The grey death sleeps, only to wake again. The child is not clean!" "She seems a sweet girl. You cannot know—" "I can. You know nothing, Jon Snow." Val seized his arm. "I want the monster out of there. Him and his wet nurses. You cannot leave them in that same tower as the dead girl." Jon shook her hand away. "She is not dead." "She is. Her mother cannot see it. Nor you, it seems. Yet death is there." She walked away from him, stopped, turned back. "I brought you Tormund Giantsbane. Bring me my monster." (ADWD, Jon XI)

Looking at this, I think Jon cares far more about what a person believes / who they are than their appearance. So, even if the “ugly” description is dropped in his chapter, he’s courteous to Shireen and thinks she’s sweet and resists the negative view of her others have. IMO, the “ugly” thing isn’t a characterization element the way some descriptions are.

Also, just rereading this, the whole “she’s dead and you and her mom just don’t know it yet” —is really upsetting, considering what Stannis is gonna do.

[lake-archive]

Chapter 25 - The Little Girl

AO3 Link

Fandom: Ensemble Stars

Series: Alte Liebe Rostet Nicht

Characters: Izumi Sena, Anja-Sophia 'Ann' Wolff (OC), Nyeli (OC by @watersofcamelot)

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

“ Izuzu! Patch! Hat euch ja lange gebraucht! Aber da seit ihr ja endlich! ”

Years ago there had been someone else Izumi got to know during his trip in this foreign land. He recalls the time all too vividly and sometimes it just came back to him, although in rather short bursts if anything. He didn’t want to think back on it, finding it all too distracting. And yet, here he was sometimes, just dwelling in the past where he had met her, a little girl he could not understand.

That was in a literal sense of course. He had never any idea what she was telling him, not daring to speak after having introduced himself and her being unable to pronounce it. This resulted in her calling him ‘Izuzu’, having given up midway through to pronounce his name. And it became somewhat terrifying to speak when she started talking in this alien language. He didn’t understand her, at all, and didn’t dare to ask. Could he even? Would she understand him? It was like communicating with an alien, another species altogether. 

And the girl, she didn’t look like one at all to begin with. At least not like one he usually saw around or what Mama had told him what a girl would be like. If it wasn’t for her voice little Izumi would think that she was a guy actually. Short, brown, messy hair, shorts, a shirt way too big for her and a pair of trainers. No dress, no accessories, not even make up. And she was not scared too from what he saw. She sometimes fell over and scraped her knee but laughed it off rather than crying over it. She loved climbing trees, playing ball or just running around and circles for the heck of it. No dolls, no stuffies. She even got herself dirty and she was never, ever bothered by it. She was odd, to say the least, yet he was jealous all the same. If he were to do any of that, visibly Mama and Papa would get a panic attack, freak out and scold him, most likely locking him into his room for the rest of this business trip. This was one of the rare occasions after all they allowed him outside so he and Patch would of course take that opportunity to go to the outside world.

As for how he met her… He didn’t know. She just walked up to him, greeted him and started to drag him into one game after the other without consent whatsoever. She just took him away and started introducing him to games, or so he assumed. At first he was debating if he should participate yet this girl made sure he stayed one way or another. And to make matters more complicated Patch wanted to stay as well, having fun with whatever the girl came up with.

Little Izumi tried to explain the consequences, what Mama might say if something happened to either of them yet the kitty had been too occupied with the game, being unable to reason with. So, it was two against one in the end and as a kid he let himself drag into whatever game the little girl came up with.

One time this girl had suggested some type of… Pretend? At least that was what he thought it was, though he did not understand when she had explained it to him.

“ Ok, hier ist ein Stock, den ich gefunden habe. Izuzu und Kater. ihr seid die Helden und ich spiele den Super Bösewicht! Mein Stock ist nämlich größer als eurer! ”

Compared to the stick in her hand the sticks they were given were super slim, easy to break, as hers seemed hard to lift at first glance, a little thicker than theirs yet also more dirty as a result. While most children would complain how unfair it would be he secretly was glad. Dirty hands meant that Mama would freak out if she was to find out about this.

‘ Look at your hands! What if you infected yourself with some incurable disease!? Do you want to die!? That’s it! Up to your room! You will stay there! I will hire someone to look after you too! ’ 

It would be something she would say and he hated to make Mama worry. She was just looking out, nothing more. So there was no need to make her worry whatsoever. The smaller the stick, the quicker it is to wash off and cover up. 

Izumi couldn’t continue that thought however, not when hearing Path nyeing like crazy. When he woke up from his thoughts he spotted his little buddy jumping all around, the girl swinging her stick at him and laughing. Patch of course did not really think it was funny at all, trying to fend the girl off the best he could by running from side to side or blocking her attempted attacks with the stick. On the surface one would think that she had been disregarding his safety completely. However, that was far from the case honestly, as odd as it sounded. She wasn’t trying to really hurt Patch and yet it looked so real, given how wild her swings were. 

It made him stare for one good second before running over with a worried face and stepping right in front for the next swing, before it could try hitting his little buddy. For a second he disregarded his own safety, let alone the words Mama could say should he be injured though he thought that far ahead, kind of.

It was more of a reflex, given how often he played with the little girl. He put his own stick in front which made his and hers clash, like a pair of swords. It was then where Izumi had assumed this was playing pretend, given it was something he and Patch did when playing knights at home: Sword clashing. He didn’t exactly know why or what they were pretending to fight, but little Izumi was ‘eager’ to show his training in that regard, amusing the girl with some swings of his own shortly after. 

In the heads of a kid it may be a fierce battle, the clashing of ages going on. A knight versus an evil swordswoman, both duking it out and being on equal footing yet wanting to outdo the other. At least that was going on in his head.

The simple truth was that this was just kids playing with sticks, moving them against another until one was hit. A dangerous game for kids to play yet it was fun. It only lasted a short while because before little Izumi had known he scraped his stick against the little girl’s exposed knee, making her nearly squeal for a moment before freezing in her position, quickly yelping out in pain.

He stopped to move and so was Patch, both staring at the brunette for a second and eyeing her wound. It was a tiny one, a small scratch if anything and yet the sight was terrifying to Izumi. His eyes widened, he was almost panicking, Did he infect her with something? If so this was his fault! If she’s going to die now, it will be his fault! Oh god, what is he going to do!? 

He looked around in panic, his eyes going up and down at her as he noticed to slightly sweating. What had he done!? Surely, Mama won’t be happy if she—

“Izuzu? Warum guckst du mich so an? ” Her voice spoke up, sounding confused. She had even tilted her head when looking at him, spotting how he was tearing up, or at the brink to. He didn’t want her to die! No, not at all! And yet she seemed oblivious to the severity, utterly calm and even blinking. And the next thing confusing him was her sudden laugh, grinning cheerfully at him, as if nothing had happened. “ Ach das? Nichts wildes! Krieg ich die ganze Zeit! Klar, Mami wird fast ausflippen, aber wird schon~ Mir geht es super! ”

She then lifted herself up all of a sudden, coming face to face with him once more and shoving herself right in his face with a wide grin. 

“ Haha, nicht weinen! Runde zwei Runde zwei! ”

It was always like this between the two at the time. Izumi didn’t know this girl nor the name and when he had asked Patch if he remembered something recently, the cat shook his own head. He didn’t know her name either. And yet, Izumi had the odd feeling that the cat was hiding something from him, something he would rather not say. 

It was odd but it was best not to pry. He didn’t have the right to, at least not yet, and didn’t want to ruin what he and his little buddy had built up once more. It was still in its early stages and the smallest step could make it crash down yet again.

Still, recently the memories about this girl hit him again. Compared to him she seemed so carefree, so cheerful. In the short span of time they played together he never saw her crying. Any injury from the games they played were met with a wide smile. She was full of energy, so upbeat… Even now he was a little envious. She was a little girl, sure, but he couldn’t help but admire how careless she was. Instead of asking himself what her Mama and Papa thought of such behavior, he was just admiring her. 

Though he hates to say it, he is not certain what happened to her. Because of course Izumi’s own mother found out what he had been doing, with whom he had been playing, which caused him to be dragged away and he was only allowed to be left outside under supervision. And if so his parents made sure that he would not play with this ‘barbaric girl’ ever again. She was not a good influence on him, or so Mama said. She had to be right, didn’t she?

He liked to believe that. He had to believe that. It was his own mother after all, she knew what was best! And yet… He wished that he could have said goodbye in one way or another. 

What is she up to now? He couldn’t help but wonder, maybe even imagine what her life is like at this moment. Surely she is at home, having forgotten everything: Him, Patch and their games. Instead she is most likely enjoying her life with friends she can play and hang out with, probably. People must adore her. He did when he was little so why would that change? Surely, she is most likely a popular girl one way or another. Even if she is still a tomboy, that doesn’t really change anything. After all, he remembers her enthusiasm to be addicting. And he never understood a word of what she was saying. 

Yeah, he was certain that this is the life she is living. She seemed like a good person after all and the future is bright for people like her. 

A bright future for a bright girl. It’s only natural to assume something like that. But that’s all he can do, assume. After all… It is very unlikely that he will see her ever again.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

[loiswolf]

Day 11 June 6 Haines Junction - Ibex Valley 119km

First stop this morning was just 400m up the road for a donut to have later.

The first few kms were a bit tough with wind and hills until the road swept around to the east. Yes! Another tailwind! This is a photo looking back up the road in the direction I had come

This is a photo of what the scenery on the left was beginning to look like.

Google maps had said the road was mainly flat and it was actually pretty close. There were a few hills at the beginning, not too terrible. I just want to give a little shout out to Jason at Durban Cycles in Sutherland. He has actually managed to fix Shirley’s gears so I can easily change in and out of the small chain ring. And yes, I have been doing that, it makes life a lot easier. Bicycle mechanics all over the world have tried to achieve this over the past ten years…and failed. Thanks Jason! ( can someone drop in and thank him for me?)

I had the unexpected pleasure of an actual roadhouse….with coffee, at about 33km. I wasn’t going to waste a rare opportunity like this. The pastries in those places can be quite stale so I went for the ice-cream to go with my coffee.

Break over I continued on with a really easy, enjoyable ride.

After a while I could see something unusual in my rear vision mirror and it was gaining on me quickly.

Not a bear, but another cyclists. I assumed he was riding an e-bike judging by his speed, but no, he was just a really strong cyclist. He was from Brazil and didn’t speak much English. I couldn’t even understand his name. He took a couple of selfies while we were riding but I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see them.

He might be able to find me on Instagram.

He didn’t have panniers. Just stuff strapped to the handlebars, the cross bar and the back. Even without panniers I would never have kept up with him. After our brief chat he zoomed off into the distance very quickly. Maybe he was once a professional cyclist…..I’d like to think so.

At around 80kms I started looking for somewhere to stop for lunch. There was an excellent looking rest stop on my right , with no road access. I don’t know what the point of that is!

Eventually I just stopped by the roadside and climbed down to some rocks to sit on. I spent my break nervously scanning the trees for bears. The bear spray was left on the bike!

Only another 30kms to go so I moved on. It was a little cooler today so I stayed in long sleeves. I seemed to have a lot of easy slightly downhill riding but it was probably the tailwind helping.

To the left it was becoming very green

And there were some wild horses

To the right were lakes and snow covered mountains in the distance.

Very pretty!

I managed to miss my turnoff because my hostess had given directions coming from the other way. I was focused on reaching the km post she had mentioned and missed the driveway. Coming back I realised how much wind advantage I had enjoyed all day. It was quite difficult cycling back into it.

This is where I am staying.

It’s very rustic and I regret booking it. The hostess is a lovely young girl but I have been charged way too much for a cabin with no running water, no on-suite, no TV and NO WIFI. Grrrr. I’m going to complain to Airbnb tomorrow when I get to Whitehorse. It’s a good thing I was able to fix my Kindle this morning and load a new book.

Tomorrow is going to be a short day and I have arranged a Warmshowers stay in Whitehorse. I’ll probably have a rest day. I’m pretty excited because I’ve checked the map and it’s a real place…with a Walmart and McDonald’s and Tim Hortons. It’s been a while!

[detectivedamian]

As usual, following Jon unintentionally breaking Damian’s heart, Jon realizing he’s head over heels for his best friend, and the ensuing miscommunication:

Damian approaches Jon with a ticket to an expensive, exclusive cruise. Jon is skeptical at first: who else is coming along? Nobody, Damian assures him. This is strictly between the two of them-- and he needs to keep it quiet. Jon, of course, is elated. A cruise! Over summer break, their most sentimental, important season! How romantic! He’s swooning the whole trip over, imagining all of the adventures they’re going to go on and all of the memories they’re going to make.

And then they get to the cruise, and actually their tickets are complementary as they’re meant to be masquerading with an all-kids group whose members keep going missing. This is a mission. Damian is very confused about why Jon is snippy and moody the whole trip.

---------------------------------

At some point, Jon gets into trouble as Superboy. He gets his body swapped with some female artist visiting Metropolis. This chick is somebody Damian has told him time and time again that he appreciates, that her art is dark and it feels like she understands where he’s coming from, she isn’t a “simpleton”, and he can sense the maturity and artistic integrity in everything she does. Jon, of course, is jealous, he’s totally convinced Damian likes this girl. So while Kon and the girl (in Jon’s body) are looking for a way to undo this, Jon decides to go mess with Damian a little.

How funny would it be if the “mature, poetic, distinguished” girl of Damian’s dreams shows up and acts more like Jon? Hah!

Well, not very funny, actually, because Jon quickly finds that, while put off and confused, Damian kind of seems to like her-- him? Jon her. He suggests the same things he did as Jon, the paddle boat, sitting closer, reading romantic Shakespeare pieces together, and Damian goes pink, but does it all without complaint. When Jon reaches across the boat the take Damian’s hand, Damian actually squeezes it and looks into his (her) eyes. Jon is actually starting to get a little upset that this was so easy, and not to mention, he’ll have to return to his own body sometime.

But then again, this is everything he’s ever wanted. To be with Damian, to be in a romantic setting, to have Damian looking at him like that. He pulls Damian closer, and he leans in.

Then Damian presses a finger to his lips. Jon’s eyes pop open in surprise, and behind the finger, he mutters “something wrong?”

Damian looks sad and says “You understand pain better than anyone else, any competent artist could tell as much from your portfolio.” Jon is confused. Damian’s eyes become dark, and he lowers his head. “I was drawn in by your work, you know why?” Jon blinks and laughs nervously, because no he has no idea why? And Damian sighs and says “That collection you debuted in Metropolis was inspirited by a broken heart, was it not?” Jon, of course, agrees, because what else is he going to do? So Damian continues to say: “That is where my heart is, too. I do not usually speak of these things, but my love has been unrequited for some time, and the longer it goes on, the more I fear myself a fool.” And Damian explains-- how upon meeting her, he was shocked to find she was in fact cut not from his cloth, but his... friend’s, that being with her today has given him a taste of what could have been. But, he laments, this person is his friend, only his friend, and the closer they get, the harder it is to hide how he feels. Things keep happening that get his hopes up, but he knows it’s all in his head. This friend could never see him that way.

Jon takes both of his hands, asks him who this person is, because he’s pretty sure it’s him but he needs to know. Damian opens his mouth to respond, but the creature responsible for this little body swap intervenes before Jon can hear his confession.

From here, Jon now has to fight this thing in a totally human body, and Damian has to protect him (her). It’s in the midst of this fight that Kon and this girl (in Superboy’s body) show up. Damian starts barking at her to do something useful, and she’s very confused about why this random kid is talking to Superboy like this. Meanwhile Jon in her body, next to Damian, is gesturing for her not to respond, and he yells out “Grab it by the tail!” Which she does.

Damian takes this as an opportunity to end this, while it’s distracted, but unfortunately for him, this thing is a little too aware of what’s happening-- Damian gets  hit or two in with a tree branch he found, but it’s useless. It grabs his body and throws him across the park. Jon helplessly watches, hand extended, as Damian gets flung a football field’s distance, and the girl flies after Damian.

This is when the body switch happens again. In his panic, and with the willpower only a super holds, and her urgency to not have the traumatic experience of watching somebody die, Jon and this girl switch bodies again.

Damian’s flying through the air, wincing, trying to grab any tree that passes by just to slow himself to a halt. But then there are arms around him, and he’s pulled into somebody’s chest. Jon, now back in his body, takes the brunt of the damage, which is nothing at all to him. They roll around a few times, until they land with Jon on top of him. Damian slowly opens his eyes to see Jon, who is smiling down at him. Damian is breathless as Jon looks over his face and says: “You okay...?” He can see the red in Damian’s face, and he just kind of... knows. It’s him. Damian’s in love with him.

Damian blinks back to life and wacks him on the chest, yelling, “We’re in the middle of a battle here, Superboy! Head on the field!”

With Superboy back in his body, and Kon there to help, the creature is taken care of pretty fast. Superboy lands with Damian on his arm, and the girl, now back in her body, comes running over. Her entire personality has changed, Damian notices with some bewilderment; she’s a lot more monotone and smooth, charming but the way a witch in the forest is. Nevertheless, Damian takes her hand and presses a kiss to it, thanking her for her time, today. She’s amused, Jon is twitching behind Damian’s shoulder, fuming. Jon crosses his arms and pouts while Damian says the last of his goodbyes.

Jon decides to keep this whole thing his little secret.

---------------------------------

From here on, though, Jon is more sure of himself when he tries to get mushy with Damian.

Instead of turning around for Robin to climb on his back, Superboy wraps an arm around Robin’s waist and pulls them flush together. (Damian sputters and gets snippy and demands not to be manhandled. Jon ignores him).

When Damian’s lifting weights, Jon will spot him-- but instead of messing with him by putting a finger on the weights, he sets his hands over Damian’s and counts with him. (Damian quickly grows flustered, the most Jon has ever seen him. He refuses to look him in the eye.)

When there’s a pretty girl in distress, Jon still does get a little pink, but the moment he sees Robin withdrawing to give him the space to flirt, Superboy will wrap his arms around him from behind under the guise of flying them back to base. Robin hates being restrained this way and ends up squirming enough to wrap his arms around Superboy’s neck so he feels more secure. He WILL avoid conversation unrelated to the mission, and he WILL avoid looking him in the eye.

At Christmas, Jon will purposely catch Damian under the mistletoe, and while Damian is going on a rant about how they are not the target of the tradition and how it’s a poisonous plant, Jon will lean in and squeeze him tight and blow raspberries into his cheek. Damian squeals.

Jon stares more openly at him, and it makes Damian nervous. He demands answers, but Jon won't give him any. He just evades and talks about their current mission, or pretends to be curious about something Gotham-related.

Jon will rest his head against Damian’s shoulder when they’re lazing in their fortress. Damian tells him to get off, but he doesn’t, and Damian relents because he does, in fact, crave this contact from Jon.

Jon will sometimes mess with him and get a little too close, lips a little too near, and Damian will push his face away with his whole hand, loudly proclaiming him to be in his space. Jon can see the pink under his mask.

Jon will ask for a reward for saving Robin on a mission, then pointedly poke at his own cheek, indicating he wants a kiss. Damian is convinced he’s joking and not at all serious, so he laughs at him. Jon sighs. He’ll make Damian realize this is mutual eventually.

---------------------------------

At one of the galas, an extravagant wedding announcement, a slow song plays, people are holding each other close, looking into each other’s eyes. Even Bruce is on the floor with some beautiful rich woman. Jon inches his way across the floor and taps Damian on the shoulder. Damian turns around, eyebrow raised, and Jon coughs into his hand, cheeks turning pink: “I guess we should probably dance or something, huh?”

Damian frowns and responds, “You’re here as my friend, Jon. I don’t need a pity dance. If I wanted to flit about with a high-class harlot, I would.”

Jon sets his hands on his hips: “I was asking because it looks like fun, but I guess you’re allergic to that sort of thing, aren’t you?” And that will not fly, because the only reason he declined was because he could, because the media won’t care about him rejecting his friend’s dance.

Damian glares at him and goes to grab Jon’s hand, only to find Jon is already reaching for his. To his surprise, Jon pulls him close, one hand at his waist, the other holding the hand Damian hasn’t set to Jon’s shoulder. Jon leads pretty easily, despite Damian knowing the steps more fluently. Damian expects Jon to dance a little goofier, but this is... tender. (That was, of course, Jon’s intention.) Jon’s eyes won’t leave his, and that look in his eyes is making him nervous. He hides that he’s swallowing and says, “Jon...?”

Jon’s smile just softens, and he pulls him closer. To Damian’s surprise, Jon sets his chin on his shoulder, dance turning to a light sway. It makes his heart stop, and Damian can feel his whole body melting at the touch. He wants to pull away, to push Jon off and make a show of how perfectly platonic his feelings are-- but this may be the only time he ever gets to hold Jon like this, with an excuse like this. He leans his head against Jon’s shoulder and slides the hand at his shoulder down to rest against his heart. He can feel it beating against his hand. (Jon can hear Damian’s, and he’s tempted sorely to bury his nose in his hair, but he doesn’t. That would be weird. So he turns and smiles into the side of his neck. He knows Damian can feel it because his heart skips a beat.)

[missfiggy]

The Tablet

For dear @clare-with-no-i on her birthday!

I'm always vaguely working on some massively long marauder series for the last three years at Hogwarts but have never come close to finishing it.

Sharing a chapter from the never to be published work that takes place in the summer before Fifth Year. It features some of the architecture and floral and fauna of the beloved Potter House head canon we share, and it's about friendship, so I thought it appropriate for your bday!

Enjoy and happy happy day!

Rating: Probably PG-13 for language and subject matter

The Tablet

“James Potter, you are a bloody idiot,” muttered the boy to himself as he nervously ran his fingers through his unruly mop of black hair.

Standing in a dense oak woodland, James Potter clambered over a few jagged rocks and felled trees to reach his abandoned broomstick that lay near the riverbed of a spluttering stream. He gingerly picked up the gleaming broom handle and gently turned it over in his hands, examining it for any signs of damage. It was his brand new Nimbus 1500, a congratulatory gift from his father for being named captain of his house quidditch team. His brand new broomstick that he just ploughed into the thick old tree trunk.

The accident wasn’t his fault really. James thought back to all the times he whizzed through the forest without incident. His family’s house was situated on the edge of an ancient forest. Since he was a boy, James would run time trials through the trees. First, he’d set the course by hanging scarves over various branches on a winding path. Then, he’d slalom through the trees, retrieving the scarves as quickly as he could manage, each run through an opportunity to shave seconds off his best times.

If I hadn’t been distracted, he thought grimly. James knew that was neither fair nor accurate. He’d flown distracted dozens of times. In fact, he often flew specifically because he was distracted or upset. He knew the speed and the wind and the sky would chip away at his burdened mind until there was nothing left. Just him and pure flight. Still, a niggling memory bounced at the back of his mind, commandeering his thoughts and frustrating him endlessly.

The morning before, James awoke to a dry, high pitch scratching noise: the sound of a writing on a chalkboard. He knew immediately where the sound was coming from. He popped out of bed and stumbled over to his desk. He grabbed a small black slate rectangle upon which white words were appearing in a familiar script. The tablets had been his friend Peter’s idea. A way for James and his four best friends to communicate instantaneously, even when not together. The boys took four pieces of slate and charmed them so that what was written on one would appear on them all. The boys made a pact not to erase til all four of them had initialed the message, indicating it was received (exceptions, of course, were to be made when a slate was at risk of falling into the hands of a parent or a teacher).

Good sirs! Better bring that bottle of Ogden’s next week. I. Am. Now. A. Man. - SB

James knew immediately what his best mate, Sirius Black, meant by that. In their third year, when girls stopped being just slightly better smelling classmates and started becoming the most alluring, terrifying, and confounding creatures imaginable, James and his mates made a pact. If one of the boys ever plucked up the courage to talk to one of the girls, and in talking so persuaded said creature to snog, and in snogging so persuaded said creature to shag, then the other three boys were obliged to chip in and buy a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey for the conquering hero.

Well then, James thought numbly, laying the slate back on his desk, there’s that.

As he thought back to that moment, James couldn’t account for why he hadn’t whooped with joy for his friend. Nor could he account for the sickening twisting feeling that had been growing in his chest over the last day.

James kicked a small rock, sending it careening into the stream where it landed with a satisfying plonk.

Of course Sirius would be the first. He was the oldest, even if only by five months. He also always seemed to be the one breaking new territory in their little group. Sirius was the first to get told off by McGonagall. He was also the first to discover how to get into the Hogwarts kitchens.

Now that James’s mind was on the topic of kitchens, he thought of the pasties Figgy was baking when he’d left that morning. They’d be golden and flaky now. Perhaps it was just hunger twisting his guts. With his broom over his shoulder, he turned to climb back towards home.

But Sirius isn’t always the first in everything, a bitter voice piped in from the back of James’s mind, ploughing over his theory that he was just hungry and not actually upset.

I’m not upset.

Still, James couldn’t help but search through his memory to recall times that he’d been the first to achieve a milestone. There was the first time he got detention...only Sirius had been there as well. James had been the first to be asked to Hogsmeade by a girl. Though even then, James wasn’t clear on whether that point would go to him or Sirius. It had been a very confusing affair. Elspeth Fitzgerald, one of the most popular girls in their year, asked James out, and then asked if Sirius would take out her friend Tamsin, too. Or maybe Elspeth was asking James to ask Sirius to ask Tamsin out, and James came along as the bonus date. He couldn’t be sure. Girls were confusing like that. Either way, James was definitely the first one to properly snog a girl. He remembers that clearly, because as Elspeth was shoving her tongue down his throat, Sirius was trying to get Tamsin to stop crying her bloody head off.

Of course, James conceded, his one time snogging session was not exactly the model of success. Sirius at least had a few follow up dates with Tamsin, and there were rumors all last year that they’d still occasionally snog. Elspeth and James produced about as much heat as a Chinese Fireball with a sore throat.

You were the first to make a house quidditch team, a defiant voice added.

That was right. James was the first, not just his friends, but of his whole bloody year to make a house Quidditch team. He made reserves for Gryffindor his second year and was a proper Chaser in his third. This year was supposed to be his biggest triumph yet. When his school list arrived earlier in the summer, James was honestly surprised to see the gold captain’s badge tumble out of the envelope. Quidditch captain! James could not think of a time when a fifth year had made captain. Even his father had never heard of it. And the Gryffindor team was an older team. There were several sixth and seventh year players who would have been just as deserving, maybe even more, but McGongall chose James.

He hadn’t even mentioned it to his friends yet. He reasoned that, surely, his good friend Moony would also be named prefect that summer. Moony never really got his fair amount of time in the spotlight, given how brilliant he was, so James was happy to sit on his own news until closer to school. He was planning on telling his friends this next week, when the three of them joined James and his father for their annual end-of-summer camping trip on the moors. Sirius’s latest news totally derailed that plan. With topics like shagging on offer, no one would want to talk about silly old Quidditch.

Is that why it bothers me? Because Sirius is going to be the center of attention? James asked himself, feeling a bit unsettled. He finally reached the edge of the woods, pausing to look out onto the grassy clearing that led up to his home. James stood there and tried to probe his own mind, his own feelings. Yes, he liked attention, but what fifteen year old boy didn’t? Did he like it enough to begrudge his friends their own turns in the sun?

Absolutely not, rebutted a vehement voice inside his head.

He was just thinking about how he’d given Moony the whole summer to enjoy the attention of being a newly minted prefect. And Sirius? James and Sirius were even better friends, brothers even. James didn’t resent Sirius because he’d gotten laid. That was ridiculous.

So why does it bother you?

James thought that over as he looked out on vista stretching out from his family’s land. In the distance, exposed rocks jutted out from the valley’s cresting hillside. A great pile of boulders on the farthest tor gleamed rosy pink as the sun sat low on the horizon. He really was fine with the fact that Sirius had been the first to lose his virginity. It was better really, James argued, that way Sirius could tell James what he had learned, and then James would have a better shot of not mucking things up his own first time. Though James supposed for that to happen, he would actually have to sit down with Sirius and talk about it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be explained in a letter.

Or on a slate, a nasty voice snorted.

As James turned as made his was towards the house, he was suddenly furious with that stupid little slate. As if all his friends needed all the same information at the exact same time. It was a ridiculous thought to have made them. Probably just Peter’s attempt to feel more included…

Stop that right now, James Potter, he chided himself.

This wasn’t about Peter (and his Gemino charm really was inspired). It wasn’t Pete’s fault James was feeling this way. It wasn’t even Sirius’s fault, James reasoned. Neither of them were responsible for his feelings. It was his own stupid feelings. They were just being unreasonable and running amok and making James feel ridiculous and hurt because Sirius didn’t tell James first.

There it is, James thought, as a bit of tension slowly eased in his chest. He was upset because Sirius didn’t write to him specifically. James and Sirius were not better than their friends, but they were better friends. For all their bravado and performed nonchalance, there was a level of honesty that James and Sirius shared, a closeness. And Sirius let James find out this really big news alongside everyone else, like he was just anyone else. That action did not feel particularly brotherly.

That still left the matter of James feeling ridiculous. He knew, logically, that Sirius progressing did not mean that James was regressing, but it still felt that way. As if Sirius’s new maturity made James by comparison more juvenile. James tried to reassure himself that Peter and Remus would be in the same boat, but even as that thought crossed his mind he questioned its veracity. Though, at the end of last term, Peter had developed a rather determined fixation on breasts. Size, shape, who had them, who didn’t, whose were the best in their year, whose were the best in Britain: Peter had an opinion about all of it. James thought he was taking things a little far, but maybe he’d just reached a maturity point that James had not. And while Remus did not talk about girls or snogging the same way the other lads in their year did but maybe that was a sign also a sign of maturity -- a sign he was even more mature than Peter’s mature. Kingsley Shacklebolt, a seventh year Gryffindor James thought was a cert for the captain’s badge, never prattled on about all the girls he dated. And he’d dated a lot. James worried that he might have been the only boy at school who spent more of the summer thinking about Quidditch than sex.

When James reached the house, he pushed the heavy wood front door open and walked through. The great hall of Hartscombe Hall featured dark wood-paneling that stretched three-quarters of the way up the grey stone walls studded with mullioned windows. There was a fireplace large enough that James could still stand comfortable inside it that stood facing a long wood table.

James stopped short. What his family's great hall did not usually feature was another attractive and black-haired teenage boy sitting at the end of said table. The very same black-haired teenage boy whose actions had sent James’s mind on a discontented tailspin.

“Sirius?” James inquired, as though there was a possibility his eyes were making a fool of him, too.

Sirius smiled warmly, jumping up from the table and throwing his arms around James.. He brushed the long fringe of his sleek black hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. Sirius wore torn up denim trousers with silver pins running through the sides and a stiff leather jacket. James did not doubt that this was some new and absurd muggle fashion fad.

“Sorry for the surprise. I know you weren’t expecting me until tomorrow.”

“Mum and dad will be thrilled to see you, of course.” James said, as he released his friend from the warm embrace, feeling even sillier than he had before. “I’m chuffed too, of course, I mean obviously, but why are you here early?”

Sirius’s mood immediately darkened. “Too much Black family bonding.”

Sirius pulled out his wand and flicked it towards the massive steamer trunk he had brought. Evidently, he was all set to leave for Hogwarts directly from their camping trip. James took the cue, slinging his broom over his shoulder and motioning for Sirius to follow him up the front stairs.

“Was it worse than at Easter?” James asked, referring to the epic row Sirius had with his parents over his choice of friends earlier that year.

“Much,” Sirius said as he clomped up the stairs in his great black boots. “One of my idiot cousins is getting married, and Walburga let their whole family use Grimmauld Place as their London pied-a-terre. Apparently you can’t buy dresses in the country or some such nonsense! Parties and teas and a hen-do. It was a nightmare.”

After dropping off Sirius luggage in his designated guest room on the first floor, the boys continued on to James’s room with Sirius. Before Hogwarts, James’s room was on the first floor as well. A sprawling nursery that had its own playroom and connected to his nanny’s accommodations. Being older now, he’d moved himself up to the spacious second floor which had never been used by the main tenants. James loved the unpolished look of it. His bedroom, a converter storeroom, stretched along the end of the west wing. Old raw wood planks jutted out of the white plaster walls and arched up to meet along a central beam in the middle. James thought of it as the house’s ribcage, it’s structure laid bare.

The design scheme, if it could be so generously called, of James’s room was mercurial. The walls were covered, predictably, with banners in the bright Gryffindor colors and drab Puddlemere brown, as well as a moving poster of all the Quidditch players of the last quarter century that James admired. He pilfered his favorite things from other guest rooms in the house to create a chaotic melange of furniture. He had a massive mahogany four poster bed that required a shrinking charm to get through the doorway. To this he added long bookshelves, a heavy armoire, mismatched couches, a dart board, and even a muggle table-football table. Of all these things, James was proudest of his desk. He assembled it himself by plopping an old barn door on top of empty whiskey casks. They still filled his room with the comforting smell of peat.

Sirius walked towards said desk still nattering on about the absurdity of wedding textiles. “Honestly,” he whinged, “I didn’t even know there were different kinds of lace. Since when do fabrics have sub-fabrics.”

“It’s completely ludicrous,” James agreed. “Hopefully, this week will make up for it. Just the lads, walking all day and sitting by a fire all night, I can almost guarantee no one will be talking about textiles.”

“You saw it,” Sirius said flatly.

“What?” James started, confused by the non sequitur. He turned to see Sirius looking down at the desk. Not at the desk, at what was on the desk. James had left his slate tablet out.

“Er-- yeah,” James said in a hearty voice not wholly his own, “Congratulations, or you know, good on you!”

Sirius laughed just once. It was a hollow, quiet sound. Time droned on and the distance between the two boys stretched with it. Sirius traced his hands across the edge of the tablet as he stared out the window over the desk. In addition to Sirius’s initial pronouncement, the tablet now included a loopy scrawl from Peter asking for more details, and in his untidy scratch Moony inscrutably asked, on behalf of a Mr. Kipling, whether Sirius had indeed run a full sixty seconds worth of distance. James felt unsettled. He knew he needed to say something to end this quiet but conjuring any actual words felt beyond his current abilities.

“D’ya mind?” Sirius asked without turning to look at James. He just held a gold pack of rolled muggle cigarettes above his shoulder.

“Go for it.”

Sirius leaned forward to open the window. James heard the familiar clack and swoosh of a lighter. As Sirius exhaled, James watched his shoulders slump forward, as if the expelled smoke had taken all of Sirius’s swagger with it.

“So, who was the girl?” James asked, breaking the silence. “You didn’t mention dating anyone in your last letter.”

“Well,” Sirius said as he turned, softening his stance and leaning back on the desk. “That could be because I don’t know if we were dating, not really…”

“How’d you meet? Is she a friend of your cousins?”

“Merlin, no!” Sirius sneered. “Though I suppose, I have them to thank for meeting her. Like I said, summer was a misery. Bella and Narcissa practically moved in. And Bella’s completely lost the plot. She’s marrying a Lestrange, but you’d never know it. All she talks about is Voldemort and how he’s bringing pride back to Britain. It’s fucking disgusting. I spent as much time as I could out of the house.”

“You said you were riding alone most days on the Get-A-Round…” James said, quoting from one of Sirius’s early letters.

“The Underground,” Sirius corrected.

James shrugged. He wasn’t taking Muggle Studies, so he’d really never need to know the name of the mad contraption that transports people underneath the streets. Merlin knows he'd never ride on it.

“Anyway,” Sirius continued, “I was riding around a lot at the start, but there’s only so many times you can go around the Circle line. Tried hanging around Diagon Alley for a bit, but it was just more of the same. I ended up just exploring. Few weeks ago, I was wandering around Chelsea. I stumbled into this clothing store on the King’s Road and that’s where I met Cyan--”

“Cyan?!” James interrupted.

“Well, it’s Sarah, really. But she dyed the ends of her hair blue, and she was trying to get everyone to call her Cyan.”

“Fair enough,” James said, “I guess, wizards aren’t really in a position to judge someone’s name. We have some pretty weird ones...”

“Hengeist,” Sirius

“Adalbert.”

“Sawbridge.”

“Wilburforce.” James looked at Sirius to discover they were both, finally, smiling at the same time.

“Well, anyway, I just started going to King’s Road on the days she worked. We’d chat and then meet up after her shift ended. Usually just for coffee, but then, well a couple days ago she invited me over to hers to listen to a new record… and well. You already know how that went.”

James did know, and he nodded sagely at the tablet. For all of James’s mental griping over that stupid note and the frustration it caused, he couldn’t help but be intensely curious about the whole affair. Did she just proposition him out of the blue? Or, were there steps leading up to it? Did he bring wine and candles? James heard a rumor that girls liked for there to be candles.

“You know, I don’t really know why I did this.” Sirius said, tapping the slate tablet quickly with the cherry tip of his cigarette. “I guess... the whole affair just felt like it needed a cap off, you know? A full stop. An exclamation point. Some sort of definite conclusion.”

“Hmm,” James mused, not entirely sure of Sirius’s meaning. “I mean. Did it not… did you not… erm… conclude?”

“That’s not….” Sirius started. He held the cigarette gently between his teeth as he stretched both his arms, clasping them behind his back and puffing out his chest. “It’s like yes. You have sex. And sex on one hand is just sex. Just a physical thing, mechanical even. And I know that. Logically, unemotionally, I know that’s true. I guess I just thought, with the way people go on about it… I guess I just thought there’d be something… more.”

“More than sex?”

“More than just the physical bits...yeah,” Sirius leaned over James’s desk and stretched his arm out the window, tapping the ash off the cigarette. “I just expected to feel something more afterwards. But I was just tired… and slightly sticky.”

James shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. He did not know how to answer Sirius as he had no analogous experiences to share. He supposed that, he too, approached the idea of sex at different levels. There was the fantastical element that he would often indulge in before falling asleep at night. In that realm, there was nothing to fear. Then there was the practicality of it. The fact that he didn’t actually know what to do or how to make it okay for the girl. That was terrifying. When he thought of a hypothetical first time it was just as something to get done.

“You could say something,” Sirius muttered.

“I guess, I just don’t know what to say,” James said honestly.

Sirius turned away to stare out the window again.

“I think that’s why I wrote to you all. There was this big thing that happened, and then I just went home and everything was still as it was. So banal. I sat next to Reg at the dinner table and ate mushy peas. It was like it didn’t even happen.” Sirius got very quiet and looked away from James. In a small voice he said, “Does that make me sound like a nancy?”

“What?” James asked. Until that moment, it really had not occurred to him that Sirius would be feeling anything other than elated and slightly smug. Looking at his best friend now, shoulders slumped, hair falling in his face, and staring determinedly at the tip of the cigarette as if making eye contact with anything else would physically hurt, it was clear Sirius was feeling anything but.

“Mate, no!,” James assured him. “Not at all. It’s supposed to be a very big deal. If it weren’t, we all wouldn’t go around talking about it all the time. And, like, look at what Pete and Remus wrote… okay not so much Remus, but he never makes sense anyway. You know Pete lost his mind over it. You know he won't rest until you give him a moment by moment account and draw him a topographical map of her tits.”

Sirius chuckled, and finally brought his eyes up to meet James’s. “‘S’pose we will all have to deal with that. Pete may be the first student to pursue ‘History of Breasts’ at the NEWT level.”

“He’s a trailblazer.”

“Icon.”

“Legend, really.” James laughed and sidled over next to Sirius, perching up on the text beside him. “Feeling better, then?”

“A bit, thanks. Just wish you’d been there--”

James’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead.

“No! Not, there there,” Sirius explained with a chuckle. “Just afterwards, back at the house. I just never thought I’d go out, shag someone for the first time, then come home at three in the afternoon to see my cousins playing dress-up in the living room. It was too bizarre.”

“I ‘spect all the really big events in life are like that. Stranger and way more awkward than you imagined. We’re all just stumbling our way through life.”

Sirius pulled a face of mock shock and clutched at his chest. “What? No! Not even the great James Potter!?”

“Especially the great James Potter,” James insisted, throwing an elbow at Sirius’s ribs for good measure. “You missed a spectacular faceplant this morning after I ran into a hoar oak on my new racing broom. KAPOW- and the SPLAT! Broom went one way, I went the other…”

“Yeah, well, you’re too pretty anyway. Would do your face some good to bang it up. Let’s see this new broom!”

Sirius tossed the remnants of his cigarette out the window and walked towards the broom lying on James’s bed. He picked it up by its glistening handle, flipping it on end to observe the finely trimmed twigs in the tail.

“Pheeeeew,” Sirius whistled low. “That! Is a damn fine broom, my good man. What’d you do? Manage to intercept all of Minnie’s letters home last year or did you catch Monty snogging Figgy.”

“Gross, Sirius!” James laughed, “Neither. Actually--”

James scurried over to the nightstand next to his best and retrieved his captain’s badge from the uppermost drawer. He was so excited to finally show it to someone other than Figgy and his parents, he could not even find the words. Rather, he simply thrust the golden badge engraved with a large “C” into his best friend's hands.

It took Sirius a moment, though no more than a moment to realize what he was looking at. Joy overtook his whole expression, as his eyes shone and he smiled brightly.

“YES!” Sirius roared, raising a fist in the arm. “WE’VE DONE IT! Sweet Merlin! YES!”

He grabbed James and pulled him into another hug, patting him on the back for good measure. James’s heart leapt in his chest at seeing his friend's joy.

Sirius was laughing as he stood back and examined the badge closely.

“It’s not a fake,” James said, “Letter had my name on it and everything.”

“That’s not what I’m-- do you see this? What does that says?” Sirius asked, holding the badge up to James face.

James squinted through his glasses. He did not see anything in the area Sirius was indicated. Only a brightly polished, immaculate gold surface.

“It doesn’t say anything there, mate.”

“Yes it does,” Sirius insisted. “Right there. It says ‘I’m better than Shacklebolt”

James shoved Sirius playfully, but Sirius just held the badge higher as he insisted that his best friend would be the best Quidditch Captain Hogwarts had ever seen. From James’s heart burst forth a wellspring of gratitude and joy. Being an idiot wasn’t so bad, he thought, as long as your friends were idiots, too.

[pregnant-piggy]

Quidditch Cup

Charlie Weasley x reader

Words: 7.6k 

Warnings: none, it’s a tad long?

A/N: Charlie deserves so much more recognition, he is such an underrated character in the books, films and in fanfiction. I really enjoyed writing for him, since he has so little character in canon there is so much you can do with him

------------

The whole Weasley household was upside down. The rest of world was still silent and asleep but the Weasleys were awake and running around the house packing the last things they had forgotten. Molly was making sandwiches while checking her children's backpacks. She was looking forward to have a few days to herself. She hadn't had that in a long time. She had planned everything out already; after she sent her oldest three away she would take a bath, she would cook dinner for herself and make something no one else in her family liked.

Arthur was feeling in his pocket every minute, afraid he would forget the tickets he had worked so hard for the past months. He was quite nervous; he never actually did things with the kids without Molly. She was always the one that made sure they were packed and ready to go. Now he wouldn't have Molly with him, but maybe it was better. His wife was stressed out and frankly, so was Arthur. Their children were growing older and had to make important life-decisions. Molly and Arthur tried to help them as good as they could, but their kids had minds of their own.

Ginny and Hermione were already downstairs in the kitchen eating their eggs and sausages while talking about what they were expecting. Both of them had never been to an official Quidditch match, Hermione being a muggleborn and Ginny yet too young. So they were excited. Hermione was mostly looking forward to seeing wizards and witches from other countries. Of course she had read about them, but now she could see them and maybe even meet them. Ginny couldn't wait to see the game. None of her brothers, but Charlie, knew that Ginny was an excellent Quidditch-player. When her four older brothers were at school she and Charlie, who still lived home back then, would take broomsticks and balls to the field behind the Burrow and play Quidditch until they were too tired.

Ginny had always looked up to Charlie. Though she would never admit it to anyone, he was her favourite brother. He was the only one that treated her like an equal instead of a younger sister. Charlie would talk with her about things her other brothers wouldn't because they thought she was too young to understand. He always was there for Ginny, so when he left to Hogwarts and she could only see him in the vacations Ginny was devastated. And then later when he moved to Romania, Ginny could only write to him and she rarely saw him. She missed him, his bright presence in the Burrow.

And for the boys? Percy, Bill and Charlie were still asleep. They would disapparate to the campsite later in the afternoon. Percy in his own room, probably dreaming about his cauldron-report. He was excited about the Quidditch-match, of course, but it was not the main reason he was joining his family there. He also thought it would be a good opportunity for him to meet with foreign wizards and it would show Mr. Crouch that Percy could maintain a professional attitude even when surrounded by... well, idiots.

Bill and Charlie were put together in the twins' room. They had stayed up all night, helping their parents with packing. Mr. Weasley had asked for their help after seeing his wife break down over a white sock in her red laundry. Charlie and Bill immediately made sure there was nothing their mother would have to worry about. They had gone to bed early in the morning after discussing the weird objects in Fred’s and George's room. It had left them both with tears from laughter and they were happy to be home for a while.

The other four boys in the house were getting dressed, too tired to talk. They tried to cover their half-naked bodies from each other but after Ron fell while trying to put on pants and hide behind his bed they gave up. With the sleep still in their eyes they walked down and were greeted by an enthusiastic Ginny and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley gave them breakfast and they gobbled in their eggs, too tired to talk.

After Fred had run up and down the stairs three times to get everything he needed, everyone was ready to set off. Molly kissed all of them goodbye, including Hermione and Harry, which gave the latter a warm feeling in his stomach. In silence they walked off the Weasley's property and started their way up the hills.

Harry was listening to Mr. Weasley who was talking about the measures the Ministry had taken to make sure everything was well organised. They were walking ahead, followed by Fred and George who were softly talking because they were still tired and they didn't want the others to hear. Ron walked behind his brothers. No one dared to talk to him; his grumpy face was more than enough for everyone to just leave him alone. All the way at the back walked Hermione and Ginny. Hermione was telling Ginny what to expect in her third year and Ginny admitted to Hermione that she wanted to try for the Quidditch-team when the season started at Hogwarts.

After walking for a small hour they reached the top of the hill. They were the first ones there. Mr. Weasley sat down on a fallen tree and looked around happily.

‘Who are we waiting for, dad?’ Fred asked.

‘Mr. Diggory and his son, uh... Sander, Rick, Simon?’

‘Cedric?’ Harry helped Mr. Weasley.

‘Yes, that one,’ Arthur said and looked at his watch. ‘And (Y/N). They must be here in a few minutes.’

A grin spread on George's and Fred's faces simultaneously.

‘(Y/N) is coming too?’ Ginny asked.

‘Yes, her parents didn't want to come so your mother was so polite to invite her. She will be staying with us.’

Harry looked at Hermione who was just as confused. He had never heard of a (Y/N).

‘Uhh, who is (Y/N)?’ Hermione asked.

‘Charlie's best friend,’ Ron answered.

‘They went to Hogwarts together. She lives a little down the road from the village,’ Arthur added pointing at the village below them.

‘Charlie totally has the hots for her,’ George said and his siblings laughed.

‘George!’ Mr. Weasley cried out.

‘Come on, dad! It's true! Whenever she is around he is nervous and doesn't know how to act!’

‘One time he climbed a tree and broke his arm when he fell,’ Fred said to Harry with a big smile. Harry chuckled. He didn't know Charlie very well and he couldn't imagine him acting all though around a girl.

But before Harry could even start to imagine, Mr. Weasley jumped up and spread his arms at Amos Diggory who was followed by Cedric.

Amos was just as the Weasleys carrying a big backpack which was filled with a tent and camping gear. His ‘muggle-clothes’ existed of cargo shorts and a polo-shirt that was two sizes too big, tucked into his pants and everything was held together by a belt. Compared to what other wizards wore it looked normal.

‘Arthur! My friend! How are you, my boy?’ Amos said loudly and Fred and Ron, who were still not really awake, covered their ears with their hands.

Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory started talking. Cedric awkwardly stood next to his father. Fred and George shot him angry looks; they still weren't over the Quidditch-match they lost last year.

The two girls stood a little further away and giggled. Ginny had told Hermione a gossip about Cedric. She had heard from a fifth-year Ravenclaw that Cedric missed his left nipple. Even though they both didn't believe it, the girls bursted out into giggling after Ginny said it.

‘Are we waiting for someone?’ Amos asked Arthur.

‘Yes, (Y/N) should be here any minute now.’

o-o-o

The alarm hadn't even rung yet before you woke up. You hadn't slept all night; you were too excited. It was your first World Championship Quidditch and you were thankful for the opportunity to go.

Your parents didn't want to go and neither did any of your friends. Because you did not want to go alone you had given up. But last week you had ran into Molly and she had invited you over to the Burrow.

You had not seen the Weasleys in a while. Charlie was away to Romania for his job and you felt it was kind of awkward to meet up with his family without him. Plus, you were busy with your job and trying to find your own place.

Right now, you were still living with your parents. Which was fine, but you really wanted to have your own place. Coming home after a long day and then seeing your father on the couch just didn't make you very happy.

When you sat down with Molly for tea, the subject of Quidditch came around and when you told her that you couldn't go to the match, she told you how Arthur could get tickets for it and after a while she had convinced you to go too.

So that was why you stepped out of your door at 4.30 in the morning, when the sun had not even risen fully and the grass around your house was still wet. The road to the Portkey would only take you thirty  minutes. You know you were a bit late. Your mother had wanted to make sure you had everything you needed and she took way too long for that.

After twenty-five minutes of walking you could hear the voices of your travel companions already above you on the hill. Two minutes later you recognised the red heads that were waiting for you. You walked up to then and were greeted by Arthur.

‘(Y/N)! Good to see you! How have you been?’

‘Good. Hey guys,’ you said to the Weasleys. Fred and George both hugged you at the same time and you laughed while petting them on their heads. ‘You have grown! How old are you now, 13?’ you teased the twins and when they let you go they stuck out there tongues to you.

‘Arthur, the Portkey?’ Mr. Diggory reminded the man who was looking at you with a smile.

‘Oh, yes, yes, the Portkey,’ Arthur mumbled and he looked around. ‘It must be here somewhere.’

Everyone started to look for an object that could be a Portkey. For a few minutes it was silent and Arthur got a bit nervous. The Portkey would leave in two minutes, with or without them. If they missed it there would be a big chance they would not get to see the Quidditch-match at all.

‘Here!’ Amos yelled and as fast as they could, everyone walked over to him.

In his hand Amos was holding a blue rubber boot. Everyone stepped around it and put their finger on the boot.

It was silent. Your heart was beating in your throat. Fred's shoulder was against yours and you looked over the boot at Ron. He was staring at the object with sleepy eyes. It was obvious he was still not fully awake.

A sudden pull and everyone got lifted in the air. The world around started to change. The brown of the trees shifted into green grass. The silence of the hill changed for the chatter of hundreds of wizards. The shadows that were created by the trees disappeared and the rising sun shone watery on the field the Portkey landed on.

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Cedric and you managed to keep standing, but the rest fell on the ground. Ron's knees smacked on the ground and he rolled over the ground in pain. Ginny did her best not to laugh and her face turned red.

‘Ah, Weasley,’ a wizard in a purple bathrobe over skinny jeans greeted Arthur after he had said goodbye to the Diggories. The wizard explained where they had to go.

Following the instructions the group walked past hundreds of tents. It was very silent; it was of course only 5.30 in the morning and everyone was still asleep. The only other person they saw was a minister that had a quick conversation with Mr. Weasley.

The tents almost looked like normal tents. Almost. Most people made the mistake of putting chimneys or front doors on their tents. It was easy to recognize the tents from the wizards who rarely were in contact with muggles.

But some wizards didn't even consider muggle-looking tents. There were tents that looked like houses, with multiple floors and windows. They passed a small palace with a real tiger in front of the door. There even was one tent that was made completely of glass. Everyone was able to see the old man that was sleeping in his bed.

After a ten minute walk they reached the open spot for the tents. Mr. Weasley dropped his bag on the ground and looked around proudly.

‘The arena is on the other side of the forest,’ he said and pointed at the woods a little further.

Harry curiously peeked over at the forest but he could see nothing but trees. There was no arena to be seen.

Meanwhile Mr. Weasley, with the help of Fred and George, had unpacked the tents. He was looking at it confused while ticking his wand against his leg. His tongue was between his teeth and he was blowing out air with a high pitched sound.

‘Can't we just use magic?’ Fred asked when his father put away his wand. Mr. Weasley shook his head.

‘No, the Ministry specifically asked not to use magic,’ Arthur said and sat down at his knees. ‘This can't be very hard,’ he guessed.

But he guessed wrong. No one had actually ever put up a tent and everyone had their own ideas on how to do it. After a lot of arguing the two tents finally stood in the right place. One for the boys and one for the girls.

The boys’ tent was bigger, but they had to share it with eight people. It had a living room and kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms. Bill and Charlie would take one room, Mr. Weasley and Percy the other. In the living room there were two bunkbeds for Harry, Ron, George and Fred.

The girls' tent was smaller and more cosy. The bedroom, kitchen and living area were all the same room. Only the bathroom was separated.

Though both tents had a fully functional kitchen Arthur insisted that they made a fire and do it the ‘muggle way'. He took some wood from the forest and started on a fire. Ron, Harry and Hermione went to get water.

You sat down next to Ginny in front of the boys' tent. She was looking at all the people that walked by. More and more people were waking up and if it hadn’t been clear yet that the campsite was crowded with wizards, it was now. There were people who magically conjured breakfast buffets so big and extensive no muggle could even dream it. Or wizards would start a fire with a flick of their wand, hoping the ministers that were walking all around the campsite wouldn't notice.

Some people were still just wearing wizard's clothes, but most of them wore what they thought muggles wore. A few people managed to look like actual muggles, but the bigger part was wearing awful combinations, which lead to great laughter from you and Ginny. There was one woman in dungarees with nothing underneath it (Fred and George, who had joined you and Ginny, were suddenly very interested in the grass at their feet). The man from the glass tent wore a quilt and tank top. But the most hilarious one was the old man walking around in a gala dress, completely unaware of the looks other people were giving him.

After you and the Weasleys were done laughing and the other three had come back from getting water it was time for lunch. Molly had given her children sandwiches and Hermione shared hers with you. While eating the bread and waiting for the water to boil Mr. Weasley provided commentary about the ministers that walked past their tent.

The more time passed, the more the tension in the air increased. The match wouldn't start for hours and you got tired. You hadn't slept a lot and decided it would be better to catch some rest. So you retreated back to the girl's tent to lie down.

Harry and Ron went to visit Seamus and Dean, who they had come across when getting water earlier. Arthur joined a colleague on a tour around the campsite, Ginny went looking for a friend and Hermione also thought it would be good to get some rest and joined you in the tent. You talked with her for a while but eventually fell asleep.

It was around this time Percy, Charlie and Bill arrived at the tents. They only saw Fred and George who were discussing something in front of the tent. Mr. Weasley came back only a few minutes later and showed his sons the tent.

Percy immediately went away to search Crouch and Bill and Charlie sat down next to the twins. Bill started a conversation with his father and Fred and George turned to Charlie.

‘Why didn't you tell us (Y/N) was coming?’ George asked.

‘Wait, (Y/N) is here?’ Charlie asked surprised. No one had told him that. ‘You mean on this field?’

Fred chuckled and nugded his twin brother. They were seeing the exact same. As soon as Charlie heard your name he sat up straight and looked around the field.

‘No, like in that tent,’ Fred laughed and gestured at the smaller tent next to them.

Charlie's jaw dropped but he recollected himself quickly. He glanced over his shoulder at the open opening of the tent but from his position he couldn't see anything.

Charlie didn't have to wait long to see you though. The noise that was created by the arrival of the three Weasleys had woken you from your nap. You quickly freshed up and left the tent with Hermione.

You were nervous to see Charlie. You hadn't seen him in a long time, only written. And although Charlie had been home for two weeks you hadn't visited him. When you were invited by Molly he hadn't been home and you had not returned.

So when you stepped out of the tent and were greeted by the sun shining in your eyes, the nerves were rushing through your body. Protecting your eyes from the sun with your hand you looked to your left. Charlie was sitting with his back to you and opposite of were the twins seated. When they saw you a grin appeared on both their faces. Something Charlie also noticed because he turned around to see what they were looking at.

‘Hey, Charls,’ you greeted the man sitting at your feet. For as long as he could remember you had called Charlie Charls. So it was normal for him to hear it, but now, when the name rolled off your tongue, Charlie's stomach turned upside down.

He hadn't seen you in so long he had almost forgotten how beautiful you were. Your cheeks were red from the heat in the tent and your eyes were still half closed, like you had just woken up. Which you had, but Charlie didn't know. But the glinstering in them was still the same as always. And when you smiled at him Charlie turned red, almost as red as his hair.

‘Hello, (Y/N),’ Charlie greeted you back and you sat down next to him.

George laughed at his older brother when he turned even more red because you kissed him on his cheek. Charlie sent him a dirty look and George quickly stopped laughing; he still had to sleep in the same tent as Charlie.

‘You want to take a walk?’ you suggested and Charlie happily accepted your suggestion.

The sun was setting and painted the whole campsite orange. It only was an hour before the Quidditch-finale started and people were sitting in front of their tents, eating dinner.

‘So, how was Romania?’ you asked after a few minutes of silence.

‘Wonderful. It was great to work there. They had huge isolated areas for the dragons there. It was amazing to see how they lived in freedom instead of the prisoned sites they have here...’

Charlie continued to talk about how much fun he had had in Romania and you smiled at his enthusiasm. You had always loved it when Charlie talked about his passion. He would light up and the biggest smile would appear on his face. Even though you always teased him about it you loved it.

‘When are you going back?’ you asked when Charlie was done talking.

‘I'm not.’

‘Not?’ you said surprised. ‘But you just said you loved it there!’

‘I know. Romania is great but I missed my family and friends. And you,’ he added and smiled at you. Your cheeks turned pink and you stared at the ground.

Meanwhile you had arrived at the tents of the Bulgarians. The people were louder here and it was obvious they had been drinking. Men were singing songs in a language you didn't understand and women in the most beautiful dresses were running around with pans and plates.

Halfway through the field a man about Charlie's age walked up to you.

‘Hello, gorgeous,’ he said with a thick accent. The man licked his lips and his eyes travelled up and down your body. You took Charlie's hand and stepped back. The stranger followed you.

‘Hey man, cut it off,’ Charlie said. He kept calm but you noticed how annoyed he was by the man trying to get closer to you.

The drunk man looked from you at Charlie. Apparently he was intimidated by him because after staring at Charlie for a minute he turned around and walked away while muttering something you couldn't understand.

‘Let's go,’ Charlie said to you while looking around suspiciously. ‘The others must be waiting for us.’

You felt like that was not entirely the reason why Charlie wanted to leave but you said nothing. With your hand still in his you walked back to the tents in silence.

Back at the tents Fred and George shot Charlie a look when they saw that he was holding your hand. Charlie suddenly let go of your hand and joined his father and Bill at the fire.

A bit confused why Charlie suddenly let go you sat down and stared at his back. When Charlie had said that he would not go back to Romania because he missed you, a weird, warm feeling had appeared in your stomach. You had brushed it off, but when you were holding Charlie's hand the feeling returned. You were not developing feelings for him, were you?

o-o-o

The sun had set and suddenly lanterns appeared on the route to the arena. The atmosphere was tensed. Everyone got their stuff and after Arthur made sure both tents were closed, they set off.

The route was short. The path was lighted by the lantarns that were dancing through the air. George tripped over a tree root and had to grab Fred's shoulder to not fall, but Fred had just placed his foot on a root too and together they fell on the ground. Ginny laughed so hard she didn't watch where she walked and fell right on top of her brothers.

Bruised and hurt everyone arrived at the arena. A guard lead them to their seats. From there they could see the whole field.

On one side of the field the Ireland supporters sat and everything was green there. People were not only wearing green items, some of them even painted there whole face green.

The other side of the arena was orange. The Bulgarian supporters were, just as the Ireland supporters, wearing anything in the colour of their team. They were singing the same songs the men you came across with Charlie sung.

‘This is amazing!’ you said to Charlie who sat down next to you. He looked suspicious to the Bulgarian site of the arena before turning to you and nodding.

‘I'm glad dad got the tickets. He almost didn't,’ Charlie responded.

‘Not because of me, I hope!’

‘No, not because of you,’ Charlie reassured you laughing. You lost yourself in the easy conversation with Charlie while other people filled the seats behind you.

o-o-o

The game was even better than you had imagined before. The seats were in the perfect place and you could see everything. From the goalposts on the Irish side, to the posts on the Bulgarian side, everything was visible.

As the game grew more aggressive, you became more enthusiastic. But you weren’t the only one. With you next to him Charlie felt excited and happy. The walk with you had given him butterflies in his stomach and that was new. His brothers had always said that he liked you but he had always ignored it, thinking that you were just his best friend, nothing more.

‘That’s not fair!’ Ron yelled and Charlie was pulled from his daze. The referee had given Bulgaria a penalty because one of their players had almost fallen off his broom while he tried to avoid getting hit by a Bludger.

Ron and Harry were both standing on their seats and even Mr. Weasley had gotten up to cheer for the Irish players. Hermione was still sitting in her chair but there was a red blush on her face. Ginny was seated on the left, in the chair in front of Charlie and she was staring at the field like she could influence the game with her gaze. Bill and you were both standing and jumping while singing the Irish anthem. Charlie was standing just as the rest of his family, filled with adrenalin. The only one that was sitting decently was Percy. But even his cheeks were more red than usual and it cost him great effort not to act like his family.

‘The snitch! They’re going for the snitch!’ Harry yelled and everyone in the room kept silent. The gasps from the supporters were like one big gasp.

The two seekers were shoulder to shoulder. One final sprint and one of them would catch the snitch.

The whole arena gasped as they watched the two seekers, though it was already clear who had won. Ireland had so much points that even if Bulgaria would catch the snitch, they would win. Nevertheless, the match was still exciting.

The silence went on as the two seekers fought for the victory. It was Krum who caught the snitch. So fast that is was almost invisible, but the shining golden ball in his hand couldn't be missed.

The supporters were silent. Who won? It was Ron who broke the silence in the Top-box.

‘Ireland won! THEY WON!’

And he was not the only one who had realised that. The Ireland supporters hesitantly started to cheer until every one of them knew what had happened. The overwhelming sound they made must have been heard miles and miles away.

Ron and Harry were jumping around, screaming and yelling; Mr Weasley had lost control of himself and was dancing with Hermione; Ginny had tears on her cheeks and her smile had never been brighter; even Percy was cheering. You jumped up from your seat and threw your arms around Bill. Charlie watched you and felt the euphoria fade. Seeing you in someone else's arms made him feel... sad?

But now was not the time to be sad, he told himself. Ireland had won, he had had an amazing day and this game would stay with him forever. Yet there was something itching inside Charlie. A feeling that didn't disappear until you turned to him and kissed him on his cheek.

‘They won!’ you exclaimed with a big smile on your face.

Your arm was still around Charlie and he turned red. But you were so focused on the victory you didn't notice.

o-o-o

The euphoric feeling stayed all night. The walk back to the tents felt shorter than it had felt on the way to the arena. Laughing and talking from the supporters that were staying the night at the campsite filled the air and the ambiance was cosy.

Mr Weasley gave everyone a cup of hot cocoa while they talked about the match in the boys’ tent. Every one was tired but no one wanted to go to sleep. You, Ginny and Hermione gossiped about the Quidditch-players while Ron, Harry, George and Fred discussed the techniques. Mr Weasley was talking with his other three sons.

You kept stealing glances at Charlie, hoping on one hand he would look back and catch your stare, but also not. There might be a small chance that you actually had developed feelings for your best friend over the time, but it didn’t matter. Because Charlie would never return those feelings. He thought of you only as a best friend, nothing more.

But that was not true. Because Charlie did in fact like you. More than he would ever admit to someone. And when you weren’t looking his eyes kept turning to you. There was something about the way your head moved back when you laughed and the dimples that formed on your face that made Charlie’s inside turn upside down. The way your lips parted as you let out a laugh gave Charlie butterflies. Blushing he looked at his empty mug. He had never felt like this before and he wasn’t exactly sure on how to act. Did you like him back?

It wasn’t until Ginny promptly fell asleep at the table, Mr Weasley sent everyone to bed. Hermione and you carried Ginny to her bed after saying goodnight to the boys. You kissed Charlie on his cheek and the pink on his cheeks made you smile as you took Ginny’s legs. Hermione lifted her under her arms and Ginny’s head tilted to one side, almost hitting the iron pole next to the entrance of the tent.

After Ginny was put in her bed, you and Hermione changed and lied in bed too. You talked for a while about the match and how her vacation had been, but it was late and you both almost immediately fell asleep.

In the boys’ tent however, the ambiance was different. George and Fred were laughing at Charlie who had placed his hand on the place your soft lips had touched his skin and was still standing in the very same spot. When he recollected himself he pointed his wand at Fred and shrunk his pyjama pants. Fred let out a loud groan as George erupted in laughing. But George wasn’t spared; Charlie pointed his wand at him too and his pants grew three sizes too big, causing them to fall of his hips and leaving him in his underwear. Now it was Fred’s turn to laugh.

Mr Weasley entered the living room from his bedroom and scolded at Charlie for hexing his brothers, but even he couldn’t suppress a smile. Charlie disappeared into his shared bedroom as Mr Weasley fixed his sons’ pants. Bill was looking at Charlie with a grin as this one was changing.

‘What?’ Charlie asked when he noticed his brother’s looks.

‘Oh, please,’ Bill snorted. ‘Have you finally realised you are madly in love with her?’

‘I’m not madly in love with her!’ Charlie scoffed.

‘So you are in love with her?’

‘I dunno, maybe,’ Charlie muttered as he lied down in bed and pulled up the sheets to his chin. Bill dropped the subject and the room filled with silence. The sounds of Fred and George whispering in the living room came through the door and were interrupted by Ron asking them to ‘shut up’.

o-o-o

It didn’t seem like you slept long before waking up again. At most two hours. But someone was outside the tent, making more sounds then necessary for such an early hour. Ginny and Hermione also woke up and you got out of bed and stumbled to the entrance. After opening it your gaze fell on a terrible situation. A group of people with dark cloaks and masks was walking across the campsite, screaming curses and setting tents on fire. People all around were screaming and running away.

You stared at the view three seconds before quickly turning to the girls and ordering them to put something warm on. ‘Stay here, I’ll be back,’ you said and while pulling your sweater on you hurried to the boys’ tent. ‘Guys! GUYS! Wake up!’

You opened their tent and with your wand filled the room with light. Fred groaned at the sudden light but you ignored him. Mr Weasley came rushing out of his bedroom, pants put on over his pyjamas and wand ready. Percy followed him and the door of the other bedroom opened to reveal Charlie and Bill.

‘Outside,’ you said and ran back to the girls’ tent. Ginny and Hermione, who had looked outside, were looking at you with terrified looks on their faces. ‘Come on,’ you said and lead the girls outside, while looking over your shoulder to check if there were people around. But the people with the masks were far away.

The boys had collected outside the tent. ‘Bill, Charlie, Percy and I will help the ministry,’ Mr Weasley explained as he rolled up his sleeves. ‘Go to the forest. And stay together!’ He ran away followed closely by Percy.

Fred took Ginny’s hand and pulled her with him. George, Ron, Harry and Hermione followed them. You turned around to Charlie, he was watching you and you could see the fear on his face, although he tried to hide it.

Then you did something without thinking. Your brain was still looking around the campsite taking in the damage that had been done, but your body stepped closer to Charlie and kissed him on his lips. Quick, soft and caring. You pulled away before Charlie could even act about it and ran after the others.

Charlie was left with burning lips. He looked at you as you ran away, joining his younger siblings. At that moment, Charlie would have traded the whole world to kiss you longer. To feel your lips on his, to run his hands over your body, to look you in your eyes and tell you how he felt for you. But as you escaped his view the screams of the people around him re-entered Charlie’s mind and he was pulled out of his daze. People were in danger, that was more important than kissing you right now, though every part of Charlie’s body thought different.

He turned around quickly and ignored Bill’s surprised grin. ‘Not now,’ he said and ran after his father.

o-o-o

What did you just do? It was as if your mind only now realised what you had done. You kissed him! You actually kissed him! And Merlin, was it great! Even now as you were walking through the dark, you could still feel his lips.

You, Fred, George and Ginny reached an open spot and sat down on a fallen tree. You made a fire with your wand. Soon you were joined by other wizards that didn’t speak the same language.

‘You kissed him?’ Ginny asked like she didn’t believe it. You could still see the shock and fear on her face that was lit up by the fire. You nodded slowly as your gaze turned to the fire.

‘I kissed him,’ you repeated.

‘Man, that took you guys forever!’ Fred sighed and you raised your eyebrow at him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He has had it for you for years!’

A stupid smile grew on your face. Charlie actually liked you back? And he had for years?

‘But why did he never tell me?’

‘Because he is an idiot,’ George said. ‘I thought you knew that?’

‘I never noticed,’ you said and tried to think of times Charlie had showed more affection to you than a normal friend would.

‘You never noticed?’ Ginny asked surprised. ‘Don’t you remember when he ran to your house the minute he heard you had broken your arm?’

‘Or how he always wants to sit next to you whenever you are over?’ Fred added.

‘And what about your sixteenth birthday?’

You thought back of that birthday. He had bought you a million flowers and had prepared a whole day with a picnic and a dinner under the stars.

‘Get out,’ you mumbled when you  realised how long ago that was. ‘He had a crush on me back then?’

‘Oh definitely, but he never dared to admit it,’ George answered.

‘Please tell him you like him,’ Fred whined. ‘I can’t stand to hear more about your hair and your teeth and the way you smile.’

You blushed and stared into the fire. Your whole body filled with butterflies and for a minute you had forgotten about the riot. And so did your companions. Until the whole forest lit up by a green flash and you jumped wand ready to defend yourself and your friends. But your eyes quickly found the reason behind the flash.

The green skull floating in the air gave you chills. A shiver ran down your spine as its mouth opened and a green snake escaped. The three others behind you looked up at the sky with confused faces. You took them by their shoulders and pushed them back to the camp site, wand still ready to cast a spell any moment.

At the edge of the forest you saw three familiar red heads. But there was no sight of Hermione, Harry, Ron or Mr Weasley. You ran towards the three oldest Weasley siblings.

‘What happened?’ you asked worried.

‘Death eaters, gone as soon as the mark appeared,’ Bill filled you in. You cursed and stared at the skull in the sky.

‘No one hurt?’ you asked, not really sure if you wanted the answer. But luckily Bill shook his head.

‘They were levitating muggles, but they’re not hurt.’

‘Where are Ron, Hermione and Harry?’ Charlie asked as he looked around and saw that they were missing.

‘We lost them in the forest,’ Ginny answered, her eyes filled with tears. ‘Where’s dad?’

‘He went to the place the mark appeared. Don’t worry he will be safe,’ Bill added when he saw her fear.

Your hand was still on Ginny’s shoulder as you stared at the path in the forest. A silence fell over the group but the sounds of the crying people around were filling your head. You wished there was a way to help them.

No longer than three minutes after, the first journalist apparated on the grass in front of the forest. The workers of the ministry, that had stayed back, tried to appease the crowd. Photographers pointed their camera’s up in the air and took pictures of the skull, that now more looked like an oddly shaped cloud. Bill and Charlie noticed the photographers also taking photos of them and suggested going back to the tents. You took Ginny by her hand and walked past the photographers ignoring their yells.

The tents had not been damaged apart from the few tent pegs that had come out of the ground. Bill put them back with his shoe while the others entered the tent. You sat down and took Ginny in your arms. She was looking pale and her eyes were red. While she softly sobbed in your shoulder you dared to look at Charlie. He was seated on the other side of the tent with Percy, looking at the entrance as if that would make the others come back sooner. Fred and George sat down in the chairs next to you, but said nothing. Though they were not as pale as Ginny was, you could easily see the shock on their faces.

‘(Y/N)?’ Fred asked and you looked up. From the corner of your eyes you saw Charlie’s head turned to the corner you were in when your name was called.

‘Hmm?’

‘What was that thing in the sky?’

You looked at Fred, unsure of what to answer. Turning to Charlie for help, you thought of the horror of having to remember the mark when you were a kid. Your parents had wanted you to remember what it looked like so that if you ever saw it you wouldn’t go inside the house. As a kid you were unaware of the terror the mark had brought so many people, but you, just as any other kid that was around your age, did remember your parents showing you a picture and telling you how you should never, but absolutely never enter a house when that skull was above it.

‘I’m not sure if I am the one to tell you that…’ you answered honestly. ‘I think your father will explain it when he returns.’

And as if your words did the trick, Mr Weasley entered the tent at the exact same moment. Ron, Harry and Hermione were following him and Bill closed the line. They sat down at your corner and the exhaustion almost made you feel just as tired.

‘What happened, Dad?’ Bill asked while Percy and Charlie also sat down.

‘False alarm,’ Mr Weasley answered and four collective sighs filled the tent.

‘But what happened? Why did those people disappear when they saw that skull?’ Fred asked again. Ginny lifted her head from your shoulder and you caressed her hair. From across you you saw Charlie smiling at you and you started to blush.

‘That skull is better known as the Dark Mark,’ Mr Weasley explained. ‘Back when You-Know-Who was gaining more and more power, everyday people disappeared never to return. If that mark was floating above your house it meant that no one in there was still alive. It was the horror of every person to come home and see that mark…’

‘But who were those people?’ Ron asked.

‘They were Death eaters,’ Bill said. ‘Followers of You-Know-Who. They did everything he asked them because they were promised a world with only pure-blood wizard at the top.’

‘After You-Know-Who disappeared they went away with him. I guess they had a little too much to drink tonight,’ Mr Weasley said.

A silence fell over the tent and Ginny buried her face in your shoulder again. By her steady breathing you noticed she had fallen asleep. Ron and Harry also went to their beds, Fred and George took the beds in Bill and Charlie’s room and Hermione stationed on the sofa in the living room. Though her eyes were closed you saw that she was not asleep. But you didn’t blame her; you couldn’t sleep either. Mr Weasley had gone outside to talk with his colleagues and Percy had gone with him. Charlie gave you a cup of tea and Bill went into the empty bedroom.

As you drank your tea, careful not to wake up Ginny, who was still sleeping against you, you looked up at Charlie. His cheeks were red and he avoided your eyes. You decided to throw everything out.

‘Fred told me you like me,’ you blurted out. If you had thought Charlie couldn’t get any redder, you were wrong. His face turned into a tomato and he finally looked up to you. You had a small smile on your lips.

‘I- uhh… I think I do,’ Charlie mumbled, confronted by your abruptness.

‘You think?’

‘I mean, I do. I really like you, (Y/N). I just never realised it. But when I was in Romania… Although I enjoyed everything I did there, I kept thinking of you and how alone you were. Merlin, I wished so many times I could just return home and- and take you in my arms. But I never knew if you felt the same.’

‘You do now, right?’

Charlie looked up to you. You were looking at him patiently. Your voice was genuine and soft and Charlie had never felt so much love for you. He got up and sat down next to you on the couch. You turned your head to him and he was so close to you he could have easily kissed you.

‘Because I do, Charls. I really like you too.’

And you closed the gap between the two of you. Charlie felt his head explode at the kiss. He suddenly realised how long he had wanted this. How long he had missed this in his life. The way you touched him made him dizzy and light-headed. His thumb stroke your jaw as he pulled you in closer.

When you broke apart and looked over Charlie’s shoulder, you saw Hermione grinning at you. Charlie smiled at you and the top of his nose was pink.

‘Did they kiss?’ Fred asked through the closed bedroom door.

‘Yes,’ Ginny answered from beside you. You hadn’t even realised she had woken up.

‘Finally!’ George exclaimed and Charlie rolled his eyes.

‘Watch out or your pants will be so small things will get numb!’ Charlie threated but he was smiling. He turned back to you and kissed you again.

‘I can get used to this,’ you mumbled against his lips and he chuckled.

‘No problem for me.’

-------

taglist: @kalimagik​

harry potter:@kitkatkl​ @girllety​ @yuptha-tsme​ @sleep-i-ness​ @iamak20​ @thefuturelawyer​ @weasleydream​​ @missmulti​​ @deafgirltingz​​ @moonstarrnghtsky​​

please let me know if you want to be added!

MASTERLIST

[vannahfanfics]

Picture Perfect

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Sen Kaibara, Setsuna Tokage

Hello, everybody! I am super stoked to present my story for the @class-b-abuzz-bang! I had the pleasure of working again with my talented friend @danyartime​, so be sure to check out their super beautiful and cute art for the story!

The smudge of ruby-red gradually came into focus as Sen twisted the dial on his camera, revealing a blooming rose nestled among the spiny branches of a rose bush. Its soft, silken petals glistened with dewdrops from the early morning rain. The little beads caught the sunlight to shine like crystal-clear gems on the red petals, their iridescent sheen glinting even through the lens. 

Sen kept his hands steady as he fine-tuned the focus until he was satisfied; then, with a simple press, he clicked the shutter and captured the image. 

He straightened up with a small sigh, letting the camera flop down against his chest while the thick leather strap around his neck kept it from falling. He tilted his head back to squint at the sun, which shone brightly in the azure sky amidst the white, cottony clouds. It was a lovely Saturday morning, still slightly cool with the lingering chill of the night. Sen was making his weekly rounds of the campus to practice his photography. 

Sen had always liked cameras and had dabbled in photography in middle school. Once he arrived at U.A., he thought that homework and hero training would dominate much of his time. However, after Midnight had given them a lecture about the importance of maintaining a hobby to promote mental well-being, he’d picked up his camera again and taken to wandering the campus on the weekend. There were more things to capture than he’d anticipated, so he now had a large collection of candids taped to his dorm room wall and was adding more every week. 

He picked up his camera to inspect the photograph of the rose, scrutinizing it for any imperfections. A smile slowly bloomed on his lips as he realized it was a quite pretty photograph indeed— definitely one he intended to print later. As he mulled about on the sidewalk, wondering where he should look next, he heard the glass doors of the dormitory open. 

He glanced over his shoulder to see Setsuna trotting out onto the porch, and his heart thumped against his ribcage. 

She didn’t notice him standing there at first, giving him an opportunity to unabashedly admire her. She walked out into the sunshine, closing her eyes and tipping back her head to let the warm rays fall upon her face and thread into her dark green-black hair. She wore a sleeveless white dress that hugged her figure and stopped a little above her knees. A golden belt looped around her waist, and shiny white boots enclosed her feet. A golden necklace with a lizard charm hung around her neck. Sen had always thought that Setsuna had impeccable fashion sense, in addition to being stunningly gorgeous. His fingers itched to hit the shutter and snap as many photographs of her as he could. 

Of all the things he’d ever wished to immortalize in a picture, Setsuna Tokage was perhaps the greatest. 

After soaking up the sun rays for several moments, Setsuna opened her eyes and finally noticed him standing in the garden in front of the dormitory. His body had grown slack with dreamly laxity while he’d gazed at her, but he tensed tight when a grin split her face. She cheerily called, “Morning, Sen!” 

“Good morning, Setsuna,” he replied. She hopped down the steps and trotted toward him. He hoped the heat on his cheeks was from the intense spring sun and not a blush rising to the surface. She stopped in front of him and immediately looked down at his camera, and then her eyes widened in curiosity. 

“Oh, are you out and about taking pictures? Do you have any good ones?” 

Sen nodded and lifted the camera, turning it around so she could see the display screen on the back. She pressed up against his side to look over his shoulder, and he felt his face blaze with heat as her hair, still damp and smelling of her dewberry shampoo, brushed over his neck. He could hear her breathing in his ear; every inhale and exhale made him dizzier and dizzier. Somehow, he managed to retain enough control of his body to cycle through the photographs he’d taken that morning. 

The first was of the sunrise. He’d climbed to the roof of the dormitory to catch the hemisphere of white emerging over the horizon, the blue curtain of night rising to reveal a flood of red-orange. It had been cloudy that morning, so the sunbeams had caught on the clouds to stretch in white lines across the sky. “Wow… That’s beautiful,” Setsuna praised. 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the dawn. 

The next photograph was of a squirrel sitting on the roots of the oak tree next to the dormitory. It rested on the gnarled chunk of root that rose from the loamy soil like a sea serpent. Its little paws clutched an acorn, holding it to its little snout while it scored its long front teeth across the surface to try to break through the hard shell. Its fluffy, long tail curled over its back like a plume of wispy brown-gray smoke. Setsuna giggled, “It’s so cute.” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the squirrel. 

He showed her the photograph of the rose next. She inhaled sharply with awe, then leaned more over his shoulder to peer closer at the screen. His face darkened as more of her body pressed against him, but she was too enraptured by the beautiful bloom bursting in colorful pixels on the screen to notice. Her eyes sparkled as she murmured, “Amazing…” 

“Yeah.” Except, he wasn’t looking at the photograph of the rose. 

Sen lowered his camera back down when she pulled away, though he lamented the loss of her body heat along his side. She smiled radiantly at him. Sen felt his heart start playing his rib cage like a xylophone, and he lowered his face to fiddle with his camera so she couldn’t see the haze of red staining his cheeks. 

“Wow, Sen! I never knew you were so talented!” she gushed. He mumbled some sort of gratuitous remark in response. “What are you going to take pictures of next?” 

Sen felt a lump form instantly in his throat. He peered through his bangs at her, watching, measuring. He’d always wanted to photograph Setsuna, and here she was, so interested in his hobby. Would she agree to a small photoshoot? He didn’t want to bother her or creep her out, but… Holy cow, Sen had never seen someone that was more a work of art than her, and he was gripped with such an intense desire to see her through his photo lens that it was almost suffocating. 

He swallowed several times, but that lump in his throat just bobbed in place. Somehow, he managed to force the words out around it: “I’d like to photograph you, Setsuna.” 

Her eyes blew wide, two dark moons floating in a sea of white. She pointed at herself and squeaked out, “M-me?” 

When he nodded, a bright flush of pink rushed into her cheeks, and a shy smile teased at her lips. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other while her eyes rolled up to the corners, unable to look Sen in the eye at the realization he wanted her to be his muse. He waited patiently for her to answer, despite his stomach twisting in his belly, until she uttered a meek, “O-Okay…” 

Sen couldn’t help the giddy smile that tugged at his lips and the light that lit up his eyes. 

“Okay,” he echoed, and the happiness that bled into his voice made Setsuna smile bashfully. He held out his hand for her, and when Setsuna coyly slipped her fingers into his, it felt like electric shocks rocketed up his nerves. He wanted to jump for joy, but he had to remain professional. He forced down his elation to focus on the task at hand— capturing Setsuna in all her goddess-like glory. Smiling softly, he tugged her down the sidewalk, walking backward while he led the bashful girl by the hand. 

As he walked, he glanced around the garden to find some suitable settings. He couldn’t just photograph Setsuna in any old setting, no, no— it had to be something truly magnificent, fitting of his image of an angel fallen to earth. He thought of her standing on the porch, her head tipped back to soak up the warmth of the sun, and at the same time his eyes fell upon a patch of wild dandelions growing in a patch of empty green grass. Perfect. 

“Here,” he said and pulled her off the sidewalk and into the grass. He treaded carefully, trying to disturb as few of the dandelions as he could. It wouldn’t be much of a backdrop if he kicked all their floaty little seeds to the wind before he could get started, now would it? Setsuna milled about next to him, her cheeks stained as pink as carnations, while Sen stared at the small patch of wildflowers and mumbled under his breath. A vision took shape in his mind, one that made him as floaty as the dandelion seeds. 

He directed Setsuna to sit among the dandelions in the clearest patch they could find. She eased down into the dewy grass, tucking her legs against her side. Her right hand rested on her thigh, while the other pushed into the loamy dirt, supporting her weight. She tossed her tresses of dark green hair over her shoulder, and there was so much magic in that simple movement that Sen’s mind momentarily went black. He just gawked at her, wide-eyed, until Setsuna bashfully said, “Sen? Is this good?” 

“O-oh,” he stammered, flushing. “Yeah, that’s good.” He crouched down a few feet away from her and picked up his camera, then peered through the lens. He tried to keep his hands from shaking— it would ruin his shot— but it was so hard with the way she smiled sweetly at him through the camera lens, her head tilted just so to give her a demure demeanor. Her eyes were lidded as she rested contentedly amongst the dandelions. Sen waited until the wind whistled across the grass, bobbing the dandelions and fluttering her hair, before clicking the shutter in quick succession. 

While he lowered the camera to choose which of the set he believed to be the best, Setsuna turned to watch a few of the dandelion seeds float away on the breeze. As a serene smile graced her lips, Sen snuck a candid photo. Unfortunately, the click of the shutter betrayed him, and she rolled her head on her shoulders to smirk at him in amusement. 

“I feel like a model,” she laughed. “I never thought I would be a part of a photoshoot.” 

Sen blushed, using the bulk of his camera to hide his face. 

“Well…” he mumbled, deleting the photos he didn’t intend to keep so he didn’t have to look directly at her. “Hopefully my photos live up to your expectations.” 

“I know they will,” she hummed with so much conviction that it made Sen’s heart flutter. While waiting on him, she picked up one of the dandelions and gently blew on it. Sen scrambled to back out of his photos so he could snap a picture of her slightly parted lips blowing into the seeds, dislodging them into the breeze. They bobbed around her hair, some of them settling into the waves of dark green like little snowflakes. Suddenly, Setsuna laughed and flopped backward into the patch, slamming her arms down to send hundreds of the little seeds spiralling into the air. 

Sen hopped to his feet, but he didn’t pick up his camera. He just stared in adoration at the beautiful sight before him. Setsuna’s hair spread around her head like a dark halo, threaded with grass blades and dandelion seeds. She gazed reverently at the seeds spinning above her body; with no wind to catch them, they slowly swirled down, down, down to settle on her form. Her eyes drifted to Sen, who was gaping at her like she was the most sublime creature on earth. A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks as she asked, “What? No more photos?” 

He played with the thick black strap of his camera as he stiffly said, “Some things a photo can’t even do justice.” 

She tilted her head slightly at that, eyebrows creasing in just the barest hint of amusement. Sen took a deep breath, preparing himself for the crazy thing he was about to do; then, he pulled his camera off from around his neck and set it down amongst the grass. Setsuna just watched him as he walked to where she lay in the grass, her chest rising and falling with rapidly-quickening breaths and a knowing smile spreading over her lips. 

“Is that so?” she breathed when he knelt down next to her, on her left side. Surrounded by the grasses, Sen could see the hidden rivers of emerald shining in her eyes and her hair. Even with the most expensive camera equipment, he could never capture those streams concealed within the dark of her hair and eyes; they were immortal only in Sen’s memory. 

“Yeah,” he answered, his voice just as breathy. “A photo could never do you justice, Setsuna. Not in my eyes.” 

A shy smile played over her mouth, and then she quickly swiped her tongue over her lips to wet them. This action did not go unnoticed by Sen; it made his heartbeat quicken and adrenaline surge through his veins. Setsuna’s hand snuck through the grass like a lithe snake, latching onto his. He didn’t resist as she guided him to crawl over her body, knees resting next to her hips, hands on either side of her head. 

“Then why ask me to do a photoshoot for you?” she asked teasingly. 

“It’s a good excuse to be able to look at you longer,” he answered matter-of-factly. Her face flushed red as her flirtatious taunt was turned so effortlessly back to her, and this made Sen’s mouth curl up into a smirk. “Besides, even if a picture can’t do you justice, I’d still like to have them. You’re beautiful, even through a camera lens.” 

He brushed his fingers gently over the cascade of hair framing her face, teasing through the strands and dislodging the dandelion seeds. The way she was looking at him, the fire smoldering in the depths of her eyes, emboldened him. His fingers slowly shifted to skim over her cheek, feeling the heat that rose to the surface in response to his touch. He brushed down the curve of her jaw until he met her chin, and then he turned his hand to place his thumb just under her mouth, tugging down to part her lips ever-so-slightly. 

“May I kiss you, Setsuna?” 

“Please,” she whispered, literally agonized by the fact he wasn’t kissing her already. This made Sen chuckle, but he didn’t want to keep the lady waiting. He dropped down onto his elbows to bring his face centimeters away from hers. She craned her head slightly with a low, needy whine, bumping her nose softly against his with the motion. Sen chuckled again, then tilted his head so he could close the gap and slot his lips against hers. 

Truth be told, Sen had thought about kissing Setsuna many times. Still, all his daydreams could never prepare him for how it really felt to have her lips melding with his. It felt like his heart exploded in his chest, filling him to the brim with a cloudy, floaty feeling from the crown of his head to the very tips of his toes. Sen pressed his body down against hers slightly, grounding himself because it really did feel like he was going to float away, just like those dandelion seeds. 

Setsuna hummed against his lips as he moved his mouth over hers, kissing her with a growing hunger. She just felt so good, tasted so sweet, and that scent of her dewberry shampoo was flooding his nose again. He kissed her until his mind was growing fuzzy with oxygen deprivation instead, then pulled back with a deep intake of air. Setsuna’s eyes fluttered open to look at him reverently, like he’d just hung the moon in the sky for her. Damn it, Sen would if that’s what it took to see that look on her face every single day. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered again. His voice cracked with the sheer amount of worship he put into the statement. Setsuna shyly bit down on her bottom lip, but the twinkle in her eyes intensified. Unable to help himself, he leaned down again to kiss her nose, each of her cheeks, and then her lips again. Setsuna giggled at the soft, feathery kisses brushing over her skin, and the sound was music to Sen’s ears. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she joked cheekily. Sen rolled his eyes, but wasn’t exactly surprised at her impudence. Her overwhelming confidence was one of the many, many things he adored about her. He nosed along her jaw as he smiled softly down at her, making her squirm and giggle. She wound her arms around her neck, indicating that she had no care to go anywhere anytime soon. The wind rustled the grasses around them, dusting Sen in a few of the dandelion seeds. 

No, a picture really couldn’t do her justice at all, Sen thought as he gazed down at Setsuna. She crossed her eyes as a dandelion seed drifted across her nose, then playfully blew it into Sen’s face. The little feathery fibers of the seed tickled his cheek as his lips teased up into a loving smile. A picture was worth a thousand words, many people said— but as they gazed into one another’s eyes, a million words passed between them that a picture couldn’t even hope to capture.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[imhereformr]

It had been years since he’d had to sneak in somewhere. Riven’s position as captain in the Magix Elite Force granted him easy access to just about anywhere he needed or wanted so long as he could justify his reason for being there. But this, he had no valid reason. It would result in his suspension, if not complete dismissal, from the force. He didn’t think he’d get caught – you couldn’t teach an old dog new tricks, but that doesn’t mean they forgot old ones – but even if he did, he knew he had to take the risk.

Nabu had been the one to tell him. About the relationship; the engagement; and the – in Riven’s opinion – far too rushed wedding. He wanted her to be happy, even if it wasn’t with him. He did. He also knew he should just let her go, let her marry whatever the fuck his name was, but he couldn’t not try. She needed to know how he felt even if he was years too late.  

Musa had been the one to break it off. It had nearly broken him; he’d refused to leave his room in his and Timmy’s apartment for weeks afterwards. Ultimately, she’d been right, though. They were becoming different people – growing apart – and it was better to break up now than wait until their different paths became too much and they grew to resent each other.  

Musa had released her first album a year before they’d broken up. Her tour had been hard, with him having to stay in Magix for work and her being everywhere, but he’d thought they could survive it. Their relationship had already survived so much. Musa’s star, though, had only begun to shine. Over the years after the breakup, she only became more and more successful. Every bit of which she deserved, and every bit of which Riven had followed from afar.

She’d offered for them to stay friends once the wounds had healed but Riven had declined. All the news he got of her was from the guys or magazines. His therapist – he'd gone to see a therapist; Musa would have been so proud – agreed that it was best to cut her off entirely. Beyond the whole listening to her music thing, Riven thought he’d done pretty well at that. It had only taken him a year to stop looking her up borderline obsessively, he’d dated other people, he’d even had a serious relationship or two. His only problem was that none of the others were Musa. No matter how hard he tried, he always seemed to come back to her.

So here he was, the day of her wedding, climbing a tree on the side of the hotel she was getting married at, praying that he’d be able to find the room she was getting ready in before the ceremony started. And that she’d be willing to hear him out. 

Riven managed to find an open window that led into the end of a hallway. He made his way through the navy halls, stopping to listen for her voice behind every single oversized door. Nabu, after some bribery and threats, had told him that Musa and the girls would be getting ready on the fourth floor. He’d begged Riven to think through his actions and not do anything stupid, but Riven was also certain that Nabu was on board with whatever his plan was. From his description of Musa’s fiancé, he hadn’t sounded too fond of the guy.  

The sound of footsteps put Riven on high alert. He managed to duck into a broom closet just in time to see Stella turn the corner. Jackpot. The blonde swung her long, gently curled hair over her shoulder and punched in a code on the door pad opposite his hiding spot. From the door, he heard a sound he would recognise anywhere: Musa’s voice. Double jackpot. Now he just had to pray that the girls would leave Musa alone for at least a minute at some point before the ceremony started.  

He stood in that closet, watching her door for close to half an hour when his saving grace arrived in the form of an older woman with greying brown hair piled high on her head and a clipboard in her hand. She punched in the code to the door – which Riven paid much closer attention to this time – and exited three minutes later with the five bridesmaids in tow.  

And no bride. This was turning out to be much easier than he’d anticipated.

Riven seized his opportunity the minute the woman he assumed was the wedding planner and Musa’s friends were out of sight. The light on the lock turned green on the first try and he slunk into the room as quietly as possible. Musa was turned away from him, staring at herself in mirror. Lucky too because it wouldn’t have made for a very good winning-her-back moment for her to see his jaw drop and his mind go entirely blank.  

Musa wore a minimalistic, figure-flattering white dress with spaghetti straps, a deep V and a low back. She wore very little jewelry: a pair of diamond earrings, her engagement ring and her mother’s necklace – the one she never took off that he’d recovered in Black Mud Swamp the year they first met. Her long, dark hair was curled softly, like she was a movie star right out of the 1950s. He missed her hair; missed running his hands through it; missed the way he could bury his face in it when they hugged so that the smell of her shampoo could envelop him entirely; missed the way she would play with her pigtails when she was nervous; missed the way her hair would fall into his face when she leaned over to kiss him before they went to bed every night. More than anything, he missed her.  

“Riven?” He stumbled out of his memories and into present day at the sound of her voice. She’d turned to face him, the train of her dress bunching at her feet as she spun. It had been so long since he’d heard her say his name. He’d forgotten how nice it sounded. “What are you doing here?”

“You look beautiful” he whispered thoughtlessly. Musa lowered her eyes, her face flushing like it had whenever he’d looked at her in the early days of their relationship. She ran her hands along the sides of her wedding dress – the dress she should be wearing for him – smoothing out non-existent creases in the fabric. It made him smile to know he could still make her blush like that.  

“What are you doing here?” she asked again, bringing her hands together to fiddle with her engagement ring.  

“I...” Fuck. How did he do this?  “...Should have written something down.” Yes, that would’ve been a good idea. He wasn’t Helia; words didn’t come naturally to him. The old Riven would have turned around and walked away, wouldn’t have even given it a shot. He wasn’t the old Riven anymore, and he wasn’t leaving this room without Musa knowing how he felt. He’d have to wing it. “Don’t marry him.”

“Riven, I-”

“Please. Just hear me out.” Her objections ceased, and she lowered the hand she’d put out in a stop motion. “I love you. I have never stopped loving you. I have thought about you every single day for the last seven years, four months and twenty-one days. Since the day you left. And every single one of those days, I have kicked myself for letting you go; for not fighting harder for you. For us.”

Riven approached her. With every step, he felt his heart beat harder, coming to a brutal halt when he stepped in front of her. Her eyes, for the first time since he’d complimented her, met his. She was inches from him; so close that the smallest movement would bring them together. The heels she was wearing made her taller – brought the top of her head to his lip instead of his shoulder. Had his mind been anywhere other than desperately wanting her to come back to him, he would have commented that she hated heels with a passion, and he’d always thought she’d wear sneakers with her wedding dress even if Stella gave her a headache about it.  

He caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, not missing the way she leaned into his touch. Her heart longed for his just as much as his did for hers. “You belong with me, Muse. You know you do. We belong together.” His hand cupped her chin, pulling her into a kiss. Never had anything felt more right than his lips on hers. The second they connected; he knew everything would work out. He could beat the worst monsters, defeat his darkest demons, save the most helpless and conquer the universe as long as he had Musa by his side.  

Musa’s hands came to rest on his chest, balling her manicured fingers into his thin white t-shirt and dragging him into her as they lost themselves in the kiss. The longer it went, the more certain he was that she would leave with him right then if he asked her to. He would have too, if the planner hadn’t punched in the door code and announced her presence through the heavy door.

“Gimme a second” Musa managed to shout, mere inches from Riven’s face, before the woman had entered the room. The planner shut the door, informing Musa that she would be right outside and that the ceremony was ready to begin.  

Musa stepped back and Riven had to wrap his arms around her to keep her near him. “I have to go” she whispered.  

“Please, please don’t marry him.” Teenage Riven would be mortified to hear his voice crack as he begged Musa not to choose someone else, but adult Riven couldn’t care less. He would beg and plead and grovel if it meant that she’d stay with him.  

“It’s too late. I’m sorry.” She laid her hands on his chest and pushed their bodies apart. He watched, heart shattering, as she stepped away from him. Her voice broke, tears pooled in the corners of her eyes and her lower lip quivered, but ever his fierce Musa, she stayed strong. He wished, just this once, that she would break. Musa stepped away from him and turned towards the door, gathering the train of her dress in her hand as she walked away. She wiped her eyes quickly before grabbing the door handle.  

“Musa,” he heard himself say before she had the chance to turn the knob. A deep sigh and she turned to him. He’d never been good at reading people, but Musa he knew. She wanted him to fight for her, she always had, and, for the most part, he always had. He always would. He’d just fucked up that one time when it mattered most. “I’ll be out front. If you change your mind.”

She didn’t answer, merely shook her head and then she was gone, whisked away through the door and down the hall by the planner. Riven sat himself onto the nearest piece of furniture – a fancy-looking emerald green couch in the corner of the hotel suite sitting room – and dropped his head in the palms of his hands trying to stop himself from crying and shaking.  

He hadn’t felt pain like this in years, hadn’t felt anything like this in years. He hadn’t been numb – he’d known numb before and that wasn’t what the last few years had been – but life had been significantly less vivid. Everything always felt so much more with her. The lows could be soul-crushing agony, but the highs were pure ecstasy and worth every second of pain. He would willingly suffer through millennia of agony for just one hour of ecstasy with her again.  

***

Musa’s mind buzzed as she followed Christina, the planner, through the hall and into the elevator, down to the main floor. The woman – an absolute godsend in the madness that was planning a wedding and a tour in the same four months – babbled on about how adorably nervous Liam – her fiancé – was.  

She’d met Liam three years ago on a talk show. He was an actor – had started off as a child on a sitcom and managed to make the incredibly difficult transition from child star to serious adult actor. He’d been sweet and charming during the pre-interview and through the whole taping. They’d run into each other again a year later at a movie premiere – she'd sung the main theme and he was close friends with the star. He’d asked her out at the end of the night. He was cute – tall with broad shoulders and sharp features, just her type – so she’d said yes. It turned out that he was also funny and incredibly witty.  

She loved him.  

Christina led her out of the elevator and into one of the back hallways. At the end of the hall, Musa knew she’d find her friends and father waiting patiently for the ceremony to start. Musa knew what would happen: Christina would put them in order, then cue her assistant to tell the violinist to start playing – Riven had always loved hearing her play the violin, they’d talked about having one if ever they got married. Musa couldn’t let that detail go. Once the music started, the double doors would open onto the ceremony room. Hundreds of guests would be seated in the room, surrounded by thousands of dollars' worth of flowers and floating candles.  

Much sooner than she’d anticipated, it was Tecna’s turn. The purple-haired fairy – her maid of honour – turned out of the waiting area and moved up to the double doors at exactly the speed Christina had indicated; not too fast like Flora had or too slow like Stella – who, realistically, had been enjoying the moment of spotlight – had. Musa’s father turned to her, a genuine smile on his face, to ask if she was ready. Musa smiled and nodded.  

Her arm looped through her father’s and Christina handed her the bouquet of exquisite flowers – arranged by Flora, of course. The woman moved behind her to spread out her train. As she neared the door, the guests stood for her. Her father nodded to a few at the back that he recognised, but Musa’s focus was at the front.  

Liam stood with his arms folded behind him. Riven would always stand with his hands in his pockets or his arms crossed. Liam’s smile widened when he saw her. Riven only smiled when he saw her. Liam mouthed the words I love you and Musa felt a pang. She’d just heard those words in a different voice, and they’d had so much more impact. Musa smiled at him, repeating the mantra in her head.

She loved him.

She loved him.

She loved him.

She was at the altar. Her father was hugging her and whispering that he loved her and wished her nothing but happiness. Musa was stepping up to the altar. Liam was shaking her father’s hand. The photographer’s assistant was adjusting her train for the photos. Liam was smiling at her. Tecna was taking the bouquet out of her hands. Liam was reaching out for her hands.  

Musa snapped out of her haze. Her hands were in Liam’s and the officiant was welcoming the guests. Please turn your phones off. Don’t take any pictures. It’s not every day you meet someone that touches your soul. All the cheesy shit people said at weddings. Musa ignored the man they’d hired as she played the scene with Riven over in her mind.

He still loves her.  

And she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t compared every boyfriend to him. Including Liam. She’d also be lying if she said that she didn’t think about him when she was alone. When she was lonely. When she wanted someone to hold her. When she touched herself. When she cried. When she laughed. When she had news to share. When she wrote a song she really loved.  

It was always him.  

Pressure on her hand brought her back to present day. Liam was saying his I do. He was giving her that smile that, up until fifteen minutes ago, she thought she’d be happy enough to see every day.  

Happy enough.

Was that really enough?  

“...Take Liam Lukas Caffrey, here present, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?”

“I...” Hundreds of eyes stared at her expectantly. She had two words to say. I do. It wasn’t that fucking hard. Musa looked up at Liam. At those pretty dark green eyes of his watching her with all the love in the world. “I...”

It wasn’t enough.

No one would ever be enough if they weren’t Riven. She’d tried to deny it, but it was true. And he was right. She belonged with him.  

“No” she sighed. The love in Liam’s eyes turned to confusion. Behind her, Stella mumbled out a what. “I can’t... I’m sorry.”

Musa picked up the skirt of her dress as much as she could and walked away. She picked up speed with every step, desperate to get away from the prying eyes. Desperate to get to Riven. I’ll be out front. If you change your mind. Had he meant it? She rushed through the double doors, past Christina and through the lobby. In the corner of her vision, she saw the doorman standing to open the front doors for her, but she got there before him.  

Lights flashed in her eyes as she pushed through the doors and onto the front steps. Her name was being shouted and paparazzi cameras popped at every angle, but she registered none of it. Musa searched the sidewalk for that telltale flash of magenta, trying to control her already heavy breathing and not appear as panicked as she felt.  

He wasn’t sure why he’d even waited. It’s too late. That should be an obvious clue that she didn’t want to be with him. Still, he waited. He’d sat in her suite for two minutes trying to compose himself before sneaking out of the room and down to the lobby. He’d gotten there just in time to hear the music start. Part of him contemplated waiting, running into the ceremony when the officiant did the speak now or forever hold your peace thing (did they even do that in real life? It hadn’t been done at Flora and Helia or Stella and Brandon’s wedding). Ultimately, he decided not to. He’d told Musa what he had to say. All he could do now was wait.

Riven took a seat on a bench in the park across the street. He absentmindedly watched park-goers walk by, blissfully unaware that he was falling to pieces as the seconds ticked by. It took all his self-control not to think about Musa marrying someone else; to stop himself from physically and mentally falling apart. Old demons tried to claw their way to the forefront of his mind, to tell him that she wouldn’t want him, that his efforts were futile, but Riven refused to listen to them. He wasn’t that sixteen-year-old kid anymore, and he knew, he knew that he and Musa were meant to be.  

Finally, after searching for what felt like an eternity, she spotted the telltale magenta hair forcing its way through the crowd. The joy that swelled in her was unlike any happiness she’d ever felt. He’d waited. Musa kicked off her heels and took off running towards him. He made it to the front of the crowd just in time for her to throw herself into his arms and pull him into a kiss.  

It was heaven to feel his lips on hers, to feel his arms wrapped around her. Musa never wanted to lose this feeling. He laughed into the kiss and Musa swore it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Riven shuffled forward, lowering her onto one of the hotel steps as they finally pulled apart. The smile on his face could put the suns of Solaria to shame, but, as much as she loved his smile, Musa was only focused on his eyes. She loved his eyes; loved the way they shone every time he looked at her.  

Riven rested his forehead against Musa’s. Those magnificent blue eyes looked up at him so lovingly, just the way he’d longed for her to look at him for all those years. Riven swore then and there, he would move mountains to never lose that look. He was so happy he didn’t even care that all the paparazzi were watching them. Let them watch.  

“I’m so sorry. I was so stupid... I-” Musa started.  

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”

“Now and forever. I love you, Riven.” Musa pulled him into another kiss. Camera flashes went off around them but Riven only saw the stars that shone in his head every time she kissed him. He pulled away from her just enough to whisper I love you too, Musa before kissing her with all the love he could muster.  

[cockatrice-writers-guild]

LOVESTORY - Chp 7.5

intermission

warnings: swearing

My name is Rose Walter and I’m just your average 24 year old girl, trying to get by in life. I grew up in the big city and worked the register at a local convenience store. Nothing special. Well, I was cursed at birth but besides that, nothing special.

And today has officially been the worst day of my life.

It all started when I was born. No wait, a little after that. After the whole birth cursing thing. That part’s not important. Anyway, when I was a child, I was just sitting in front of the T.V, watching whatever my dad had put on to get me to shut up when it happened. An ad played. An ad for a company I’d never heard of before. Sunshine Manufacturing. I still remember how engrossed I’d been at the time. The colours. The exaggerated expressions of the actors. The music. The mascot. And for some reason, the ad stuck with me. It would always be in the back of my mind, a memory waiting to resurface.

One night, when I couldn’t sleep, the ad came to mind again and I finally caved in. After several hours of desperately searching for it on the Internet, I found and re watched it. It really was as weird as I’d remembered and though the company had rebranded itself quite a while back, it still really interested me.

So, I started doing research on Sunshine Manufacturing, learning more about it each day. And I liked what I saw. I respected their environmental policies and loved what they stood for. Their products were innovative and from what I’ve read, they treated their employees really well. I also had a huge crush on their velki CEO, Isabelle Wilfred and given the opportunity, I would climb her like a tree, but that was more of a recent thing.

So, after getting a diploma and a stable job, I applied for a position there. And about a week ago, they finally wrote back. They said they wanted to see me for a job interview, which had been amazing news! Both amazing and terrifying, actually. I didn’t want to mess up what could be my only chance to join them so I blew a bunch of cash on a new suit and some makeup. I looked up interview questions and how to make a good impression on your interviewer. What was considered good etiquette and how to make yourself memorable. I practiced what I would say in my free time. Studied my expressions in the mirror as I did. And finally, the faithful day arrived.    

It was raining.

That was the first sign something terrible was going to happen. I’d barely managed to get to a sheltered spot before the downpour started and my socks were soaking wet. Ugh. Now, I stood in front of the massive office building, clutching my briefcase tightly to my person and trying to psyche myself up while peering though the windows. I made sure not to take too long. I didn’t want to make a bad first impression by being late. Also, the receptionist was starting to stare. I checked myself in the reflection. Suit? Check. Hairstyle I unfortunately had to pay $50 for? Check. Gloves to prevent people from coming into contact with my hands and falling in love with me? Check.

I entered the building and took a look around while walking up to the reception desk. Everything was clean, white and quiet and I already felt out of place. Unprofessional compared to these pristine walls. A cheaper suit was all I could afford and the pointless bronze peacock statue in the center of the room was judging me for it.

Nevertheless, I pushed onward. I reached the desk, where a velki was tapping away silently at a computer, and pressed the button on the front. A beat later, he was leaning over the table to get a look at me.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“I, uh, have a job interview today,” I said, having to look up to meet his gaze.

“Your name?”

“Uh…Rose Water-uh, Walter. Rose Walter.”

The receptionist's head disappeared and he typed away at his keyboard. Then his head came back into view. “You’re the 10:30 appointment?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Uh…yeah?”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

That was the second omen. I decided not to dwell on it.

“Head down the hall to your left and take the elevator. It’s the 60th floor.”

“Which room is it?”

“Trust me. You’ll know.”

I started making my way to the elevator when the receptionist spoke up. “Your other left.”

I ducked my head. “Ah, right. Thank you.”

As I rode the empty human elevator up, I tried to give myself a pep talk to calm my nerves. “Okay,” I said to no one. “Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I’ve trained my whole life for this moment. My credentials are good. I know everything about this place. I’m passionate. A hard worker. An asset to this company. I deserve this job. In a few minutes, I will wow the interviewer with my words and begin the first day of rest of my life. I can do this. I can do anything I put my mind to. I’m ROSE WALTER.”

I pumped both fists into the air as I yelled this and that’s when elevator doors slid open with a pleasant ding.

I froze mid shout and the poor human woman on the other side of the doors stared at me. Elevator music played and neither of us made a move.

She didn’t get on.

Slowly, the elevator doors slid shut again.

I…put my fists down and closed my mouth. …hopefully, I’d never see her again if I got this job. I shook it off and tried to pass the time by reviewing some interview questions. It gave me some comfort, at least. I was more than prepared for this. It would be a piece of cake.

Finally, I reached 60th floor. That receptionist hadn’t been kidding. The elevator opened to a very short hallway with a set of intricately carved double doors at the end. The third and final warning.

I straightened out my suit and knocked on the doors.

“Enter,” said a feminine voice on the other side.

I pushed through the smaller, but just as intricately carved human doors and found myself in a large room. Much larger than I had expected a room that held interviews would be. It was much more furnished too. There was a couch with a coffee table off to the left, a complicated chandelier hanging from the ceiling, a table with velki refreshments to the right and several other small tables carrying various cat statues and vases filled with flowers. The colours, all dark browns and deep blues, gave the room a muted but professional look. Sunlight flooded in through the floor to ceiling windows behind a large oak desk.

And at that desk sat famous CEO Isabelle Wilfred.

I pinched myself. It hurt.

So that’s what the receptionist had meant.

Isabelle Wilfred. This was her office. Why had I been directed to her office? What did she want from me? Was she going to interview me? Had I committed some kind of war crime so heinous only famous and powerful CEO, Isabelle Wilfred, could fix it? What was I supposed to do?

Isabelle Wilfred cleared her throat and I realized I had been staring. I dropped my gaze. Then picked it back up because if this still was a job interview then that was rude. I let out a slow breath before making my way over to her table, each step bringing me closer to her. I quickly climbed up the stairs to the top of the desk.

Isabelle Wilfred’s desk. Because she was going to interview me.

I pinched myself again on the way up. Still hurt.

Once I reached the top, I walked to stand in front of Isabelle Wilfred and forced my eyes to meet her beautiful light green ones. The desk was quite wide and there was plenty of room between me and her but, in my opinion, it wasn’t enough. She was even more beautiful up close and it was all I could do not to turn into a blubbering mess. She stared back and it took me a second to remember why I was here.

“G-good morning, Ms. Wilfred.”

“Good morning, Ms. Walter. Please sit.” She nodded to the chair behind me and I sat.

“So, you’re probably wondering why I called you here.”

“Y-yes, ma’am.” My heart was pounding.

“Normally, interviews are conducted by the Resources department but, well, your application…really stood out to me. Pardon my boldness but I just had to see you for myself.”

Famous CEO Isabelle Wilfred thought I was interesting.

…still hurt.

“T-thank you, ma’am.”

“So if you’re ready, we’ll begin.”

I nodded. “I’m ready.”

Isabelle Wilfred folded her hands. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

The interview went on for quite some time. At first I was nervous because I was being interviewed by a very powerful CEO who was also the woman of my dreams but after a while, we got into a comfortable rhythm. I could tell she was impressed by my answers because she smiled and nodded along thoughtfully as I spoke, which was great for my confidence and horrible for just about everything else. I was glad I was sitting or I would have fallen over.

Finally, the interview drew to a close.

Isabelle Wilfred nodded to herself before turning to me.

“That will be all, Ms. Walter. Thank you.”

She stood and brought her index finger towards me. I stood and extended my arm as well. We shook and I thought things were starting to look up for me when Isabelle Wilfred froze. Her eyes widened and her pupils focused on a spot in the middle distance.

I knew that look.

Horrified, I snatched my hand away and inspected the glove.

It had a small, barely noticeable hole in it.

I looked back up. Isabelle Wilfred blinked slowly, her gaze starting to focus on me once more. I stared back. She blinked again. Shook her head slightly, as if coming out of a trance. I swallowed.

“Oh, sorry,” she said, clutching her head in confusion. “I…must have spaced out for a second there.” She shook her head again. Blinked. Her eyes cleared. “I…I’ll have some people email you in a few days with your results. You may go.”

I blinked up at her. “O-okay. Thank you, ma’am.”

I made my way down the staircase, both confused and grateful nothing had happened. Maybe my curse had broken at some point. Or maybe since the actual area of contact was so small, especially to her, it only had a hold of her for a second. Or maybe we didn’t even touch. That was probably it. I sighed in relief.

And then a huge face filled my vision, just outside the rails of the staircase. Isabelle Wilfred stared at me, her head at an odd angle from leaning out of her chair. Her eyes were wild and her smile was now much more…manic than it had been earlier. I knew that look too. She was under the curse.

I had accidentally made famous CEO, Isabelle Wilfred, fall in love with me.

I pressed myself into the opposite railing, wide eyed, and felt my cheeks start to warm at the proximity.

“Actually,” Isabelle Wilfred started, as if this was all completely normal. “I-.” Then she cut herself off with a snort that quickly devolved into a fit of laughter.

-

“Alright, cut. CUT! Really Abby. Again? Really? I’m trying to make a show here.”

Isabelle Wilfred, also known as Abby White in the real world, sat up and leaned back in the prop chair, still laughing. “I’m sorry!” she exclaimed to the tired director, Fable Peterson, through her laughter.

Rose Walter, played by up and coming actress Mia Watson, also laughed. She slipped past a cameraman and climbed back up the staircase.

“I think,” Fable said, “we need a break.” They turned to address everyone in the room. “Everybody take 5! We’ll try again at 2pm.”

Everyone let out a collective groan before setting their equipment on standby and slowly trudging out of the room. Mia reached the top of the desk again and jumped out of the way of the human camera crew on their way down. She reached Abby and sat down next to her.

“Hey,” Fable said, as they walked over the prop table. They took care to step around the tired human camera crew. “Explain something to me, Abby. Why is it always that scene? We’ve been through it 3 times now! 3 times.”

Abby chuckled and shook her head. “Look, it’s not my fault Mia’s scared expression is so amazing. Show them, Mia.”

Mia pulled off another shocked expression, adding some exaggerated hand gestures for good measure and causing Abby to erupt into laughter again. Fable just shook their head but had to fight off a smile of their own.

“I wanna finish this scene by today, dammit.” They rubbed their eyes. “Ugh. I’m going to go drink something with caffeine in it and rethink my life choices.”

“You’re the best director in the world?” Abby tried.

Fable waved her off as they walked away. “Yeah, yeah. I forgive you. See you girls in 2 hours.” They left the room, leaving Abby and Mia alone.

Abby rested the side of her face on the table and turned to look at Mia. “Hi.”

Mia, for all intents and purposes, had to fight to meet Abby’s gaze in real life too.

They’d met a few weeks ago, after the final casting had been decided, and Abby had been nothing but nice to her since they’d met. Sharing a lot of scenes in the show, they’d spent a lot of time together, whether it be rehearsing or just hanging out. And Mia had started to accumulate feelings for Abby, though she still wasn’t ready to admit this to herself. She could, however, admit to herself that this new proximity wasn’t helping. “…hi.”

“So, how’s it going so far? Everything you wanted it to be?”

“…I think things are going well. I…I still can’t believe I actually got the part of the main character. It’s like a dream come true.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Mia. You’re an amazing actor. You deserve to be here.”

Mia focused on the bridge of Abby’s nose to avoid looking into her eyes, which were still an absolutely beautiful pale green. “…thanks. That means a lot coming from such a great actor.”

“What, me?” Abby blew raspberries and they both laughed. They watched each other for just a moment too long before Abby broke eye contact and sat back up. She stretched. “Well, I’m starving.” She looked down at Mia. Looked around the empty room. Turned to Mia again. Coughed. “Hey, you…wanna go grab some grub together?”

Mia smiled.

-

7 years later, at around 2 in the morning and almost halfway across the planet, Syren Jones stared wide eyed at her laptop as she read the news article over once again. She smiled to herself. Then, she scrambled for her phone and texted her friend of over 9 months, Thaddeus Kayne. She asked if he was awake and he responded by informing her of the time but stayed awake anyway as Syren excitingly told him about how just yesterday, the people who had played the main characters in one of her favourite shows had gotten married.

Her screen displayed a picture of the aforementioned couple posing for the camera. Two woman, a velki and a human. The velki, Abby White, wore a sleek grey suit with a dark blue boutonnière and was holding her spouse to her face, smiling. The human, Mia Watson, wore an elegant flowing white gown and was kissing White on the check, also smiling.

They were happy.

previous                  next

[writtenonreceipts]

How about 4. “I shouldn’t be this attracted to an elf” for rowaelin from the Christmas prompt list?

I had way too much fun with this.  I wrote it quick and sweet.

 #

Santa and his Helpers

Aelin Galathynius did not hate her job.  Quite the opposite in fact.  She taught high school English—mostly to the juniors and seniors—and it was one of the most rewarding things to experience.  Especially when a proclaimed despiser of Charlotte Bronte turned around by the end of the year having written a full-fledged essay about the merits of understanding Jane Eyre in all its complexity and over-zealous language.

The only thing that made the job even more worth while was the fact that she coached for the girls’ basketball team.

Unfortunately, it was basketball that partially made her life slightly miserable.

It was all thanks to one Rowan Whitethorn, the head coach for the boys’ team. To say that he and Aelin didn’t get along was putting it lightly.

The found every opportunity to fight.  When the boys took up too much time in the gym after their week for the early practice time slot or when the boys didn’t clean up enough after themselves.

It got especially worse when Whitethorn, who also worked as a history teacher in the school, attempted to say that there was no literary merit to the fantasy genre.

Aelin was going to stuff an unabridged copy of The Lord of the Rings down his throat and see how he like that.

Things did not improve as the sports season progressed.  Especially not when both the boys and girls were forced to have a holiday party together due to over booking at the Sports Center in down town Terrasen.

“It’s his fault,” Aelin grumbled to Lysandra.

Lysandra rolled her eyes and shoved a plate of cookies into Aelin’s hands. The one saving grace with the basketball season was having Lys as her assistant coach and the both of them could complain together about anything and everything.

“Please Aelin,” Lysandra said sipping at her hot chocolate.  

While the kids from both teams ran around the sports center choosing to play pick-up games of basketball, climb on a rock wall, or settle on video games—the two manned the treats table.  Mostly so Aelin could stuff her face with homemade goods the mothers had all provided.

“He’s an ass, I’m sure he did it on purpose,” Aelin insisted.

“Can we please stop this and have you just admit that you’re kind of attracted to him?” Lysandra asked.

Nearly choking on her cookie, Aelin shot a somewhat terrified look at her best friend. “Excuse me?”

“Well he’s obviously gorgeous,” Lysandra said casually.  “Even you can’t deny that.  Plus, there’s always been some sort of—”

“If you say sexual tension, I will call Aedion and tell him you’re pregnant,” Aeilin threatened.

Lysandra gasped, one hand going to her belly.  “You wouldn’t.  I have been planning revealing this thing for a week.”

“The day I say that Rowan Whitethorn is attractive is the day that you know I have lost my mind,” Aelin said.

Making a noise of disbelief, Lysandra left Aelin for a moment while she went to talk to some of the girls from the team.

Aelin shook her head.  The brunette had to be having some very, very, strange pregnancy hormones going on to think that Aelin would be attracted to Rowan Whitethorn.  He was arrogant.  A hard ass.  Never knew how to have fun.  It didn’t matter that yes; he was basically a god with a very nicely sculpted body. But that didn’t make up for anything else.

Eating another cookie to avoid more than a nod to a few of the parents, Aelin shook her head.  Rowan Whitethorn would certainly be the death of her.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

Aelin glanced up to the doors of the lobby as one Fenrys Moonbeam strut in decked out in a full Santa costume.  Beard askew and all.

All the boys let out whopping cheers and grabbed their phones.

“What is he doing?” Aelin asked one of the boys that she also had in one of her classes.

The boy, Ryan, grinned.  “Coach Whitethorn and Coach Moonbeam lost a bet on how many three-pointers they could sink in a minute.  The team got to pick the punishment.”

Aelin watched in slight horror, slight admiration, as Fenrys bounded around the front area exchanging punches and fist bumps with the boys on the basketball team and a few of the girls.  Fenrys was the favorite PE teach of the school.  Especially given his easy attitude and love of teaching.

“You look great Fenrys,” Aelin said as he approached her.

He grinned. “This thing is itchy as hell, but at least I got this and not what Rowan did.”

Aelin quirked a brow and was about to ask him what he meant when the man in question entered.

Dressed in a green coat and green leggings like something out of the movie Elf, Rowan Whitethorn sulked into the room.

The entirety of the boys’ team whooped and hollered.  Rowan waved a hand and shook his head.  Surprisingly, Aelin found, he was grinning.  Flat out, no shame, grinning.

“Looking great coach!” Ryan shouted.  

“I should hope so, Ryan this is your doing,” Rowan called back in response.

The entire thing was so entirely strange to Aelin that she could only stare as Rowan and Fenrys made rounds with the other players and their parents.

“Damn, he really does have a nice ass,” Lysandra said popping up beside Aelin again.

Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden appearance.  She really hoped Lys hadn’t noticed her blatant staring at Rowan, but with the way Lysandra was grinning, Aelin knew she was not going to experience a miracle that night.

“Seriously?” Aelin was about to give her friend a hard time when Rowan came over to the refreshment table, accepting a hot chocolate from Lysandra.

“Nicely done, Rowan,” Lysandra said.  She looked him over with appreciation. “Though you really should have found some pointy ears.

“The tights are bad enough,” Rowan said seriously.  “I’m gonna make Ryan pay for this.”

Aelin couldn’t help but laugh.  The man looked so ridiculous and outside of his comfort zone that she still couldn’t get over the fact that he’d actually dressed up.  Rowan shot her a scowl.

They glared at each other with such ferocity that Aelin wondered if one of them would spontaneously combust.  Then she decided to make the best of this situation and she broke into a feral grin.  Rowan frowned, just slightly.

“Whitehorn, who knew tights were such a good look for you,” she purred, immensely pleased when his cheeks reddened just barely.

“I see you didn’t have any trouble finding an ugly sweater this year, Galathynius,” Rowan replied gesturing to her sweater. It was a mess of tinsel and stitching and cats wearing sweaters themselves while decorating a tree.  She loved it.

“I plan on wearing it up until break starts,” she said.

Rowan surprised her once again by smirking—almost laughing with her over the idea.  Then Fenrys called him over to have a layup competition with a few of the girls and boys of the different teams.

Aelin didn’t even care if Lysandra saw her staring.

“I shouldn’t be this attracted to an elf,” Aelin finally admitted, much to her chagrin.

Lysandra howled in laughter and nearly fell into Aelin’s arms.

#

tags:  @tottenhamboys20 @morganofthewildfire  @aelinchocolatelover @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx  @bamchickawowow @ladywitchling @ireallyshouldsleeprn @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln