#it becomes my hyperfixation yet again

[yutamayo]

omg the cute autistic/mutual friend at the party I was talking ab way back just moved into our building!!! I legit ran into him omw in and exchanged instas he is SO adorable and cute and I love him like I just wanna be around him so like tf I am SO HAPPY

[grahhams]

hohoho can’t wait to pass hours reading the shadow of the erdtree fextralife and fandom wiki pages while watching shadow of the erdtree gameplay for the next few months

[eggmeralda]

I need a massive sudden hyperfixation shock to happen again

[northwestofinsanity]

…Here we go again…

Me, when writing any story with angst in it:

1) “[Character X] is the sweetest, most precious of all the characters involved in [Character group A] and must be protected”

2) *Almost always sets the plot up to subject [Character X] to the worst of the pain going on*

[nunap]

I think that this episode of chans room and something that happened to me irl made me v aware that i need to take several steps back from the mindset I have for chan and skz now

[evolucious]

Midnight Brew : Zayne x Reader

For a moment, you both stood frozen, caught in each other’s eyes. A surge of panic gripped you, and you wondered if he would find your silent observation intrusive. 

But then, almost inperceptibly, he smiled.

pairing : zayne x reader (no gender specific terms are used to describe the reader)

prompt : our apartments are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces my kitchen window, so we always see each other making coffee at 3am. (aka, you and zayne sneak glances at each other before you decide to do something about it)

genre : sfw, fluff, slice of life, zayne please get some sleep

word count : 1,050

a/n : heyo, i've dusted off my tumblr skills to dive headfirst into another hyperfixation. this is just a one shot i couldn't get out of my brain so i slapped my keyboard and here we are. I'll probaby post more but feel free to dm or request any prompts/pairing!

It was another sleepless night, and the quiet hum of the city was the only sound breaking the stillness. With slow deliberate movements, you wrap yourself in your robe, the soft fabric offering protection against the predawn chill. You found yourself once again in the kitchen, guided more by muscle memory than conscious thought. The soft glow of the streetlights filtered through the window, casting a gentle light over your counter as you began the familiar ritual of making coffee.

As the coffee brewed, you leaned against the counter and looked out the window. The city never truly slept, but it had moments of stillness, especially at 3 am. You had always found solace in these quiet hours, the world outside muted and calm. The soft hum of distant traffic, the occasional bark of a dog, and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind created a soothing backdrop to your nightly ritual.

The building opposite yours had always been a source of idle curiosity. You often glanced at the darkened windows, imagining the lives inside. One window was illuminated, the soft light spilling out and creating a beacon in the night. There, just as he had been for the past few nights, stood your neighbor, a man with dark, tousled hair and a pensive expression, moving with a quiet grace as he prepared his own cup of coffee. You watched him for a moment, intrigued by the way he seemed so absorbed in his thoughts. There was something almost mesmerizing about the scene, and you found yourself drawn to it night after night. It had become a silent companionship, a shared moment of solitude.

The first time you had noticed him, it had been purely accidental. A restless night had driven you to the kitchen for yet another cup of coffee, and as you gazed out the window, your eyes had landed on the man in the opposite building. He had been so engrossed in his own routine that he hadn’t noticed you, and you had quickly looked away, feeling a bit like an intruder. But over the next few nights, your curiosity got the better of you, and you began to look for him. 

You found yourself wondering about his life. Why was he awake at such an ungodly hour? Did he suffer from insomnia like you, or was there something else that kept him up? Maybe he worked odd hours, or perhaps he was an artist or a writer, finding inspiration in the silence of the night. Your imagination ran wild with possibilities, each one more intriguing than the last. He became a character in your own personal narrative, a small comfort in the vast loneliness of the night. 

Each night, as your late-night coffee ritual continued, you would glance out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man across the way. He was always there, his presence a comforting constant in the silent hours. You began to notice little details about him—the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was deep in thought, the soft smile that played on his lips as he read something amusing.

One night, as you prepared your coffee, you felt the familiar pull to look out the window. To your surprise, the man was already there, his gaze meeting yours. For a moment, you both stood frozen, caught in each other’s eyes. A surge of panic gripped you, and you wondered if he would find your silent observation intrusive. 

But then, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.

It was a small smile, but it warmed you more than the coffee in your hands. You returned the gesture, feeling a strange connection form between you in that silent exchange. From that night on, the smiles became a regular part of your routine, a wordless greeting that made the lonely hours feel less empty.

Despite the comfort these nightly interactions brought, your mind was constantly buzzing with thoughts and questions. Who was this man? What was his story? And most importantly, why did it matter so much to you? You found yourself thinking about him during the day, wondering if he thought about you too. It was strange to feel such a strong connection to someone you had never spoken to, yet the bond felt real and significant.

But tonight, as you prepared your coffee, you decided to take a chance. You rummaged through a drawer until you found a piece of paper and a marker. Your heart pounded in your chest as you scribbled a quick message:

"Couldn't sleep either? - Y/N"

Taking a deep breath, you held the note up to the window, praying that the streetlights would provide enough illumination for him to read it. For a moment, there was no response, and you felt a pang of doubt. Had you been too forward? But then, he stepped closer, squinting to read your message. A slow smile spread across his face, and he nodded before disappearing from view. When he returned, he held up his own note:

"Work keeps me up. Wanna share a cup? - Zayne"

Your heart skipped a beat. Zayne. Finally, you had a name to go with the face. You quickly wrote back:

"Meet downstairs?"

Zayne raised his mug with a nod and a smile, and you felt a flutter of excitement as you grabbed your mug and slipped on some shoes. You made your way down to the entrance of your building, your mind racing with possibilities. When you stepped outside, he was already there, leaning casually against the wall with his mug in hand. The cool night air washed over you, carrying with it a sense of anticipation and hope. He looked up as you approached, his smile warm and inviting.

"Hi," you said, feeling a bit shy now that you were face-to-face.

"Hi," he replied, his voice as smooth and soothing as you had imagined. "I suppose our midnight coffee rituals have finally converged."

You laughed softly, feeling the tension melt away. "It seems so. I hope you don't mind me intruding on your solitude."

"Not at all," he assured you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "In fact, I was hoping we'd have a chance to talk. It's not every day you find someone who shares your unusual habits."

{pls dont repost i beg}

[makos-ribcage]

Why did Ultraman had to be so cute? ㅡ ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

[] - Reader x Kenji Sato. Kenji needs your help.

𓇼she/her

warning ! mentions of blood.

word count- 2k

so ultraman has been my latest hyperfixation so i really enjoyed writting this and even rewatched to make sure everything made sense, it ended up being less romantic as i intended so its mostly a piece of life sort of? i rlly like it anyways and will probably write a continuation.

Being friends with a celebrity was hard. You knew him from when he was little, so he trusted you a lot, to the point you knew stuff about him that made him less flattering than the media would make him look.

You were there for him when his mom disappeared and you were as heartbroken as he was, you had such admiration for her that the moment you got the devastating news you decided it right there, you were going to follow her steps and become a KDF scientist, study Kaijus and make the cities at least a bit safer.

It’s not like it was a surprising decision for anyone, since always you’ve showed interest for kaijus. You liked to study with Professor Sato when you visited Ken, you liked to ask him stuff and getting explanations probably no one else could. When you told Ken your decision though, he looked troubled for a few seconds, you were confused but he quickly changed his expression, smiling to you and letting out a “Good luck with that”.

After that, the following years just made you more inseparable, until he left. You tried to keep in touch, but it was hard. Not because y’all hated each other or lost interest but work and studies just kept getting harder for you, and playing and growing as a baseball player in a foreign country was getting harder for him. In despite of that, you kept touch with Professor Sato, him guiding you through your career is something you’ll be forever grateful for.

So, when Kenji came back to the country and didn’t told you anything definitely made you slightly mad, but you had hopes to hear an explanation coming from him soon.

What you didn’t expect was a call from him at 2am after weeks of knowing he was here yet not contacting with you.

“Look, I know It’s sudden.” The distortion in his voice quickly threw you off. “I know its 2am in the morning, but I need you here.” You remained silent for a few seconds, thinking what could possibly be going through his mind. “Please, I need you.” Before you could say anything, he hung up. You were worried. You saw in the news how Ken Sato didn’t show up to two games now, and apparently has been missing for months, just because of that, you were actually going to drive to the other side of the city.

The location to his home wasn’t unknown, but it was remote and hard to get in, but you managed to get in time. The sky was cloudy, the night was dark and cold, and you were glad you were driving a car and not that damned motorcycle of him, on top of that, the disappearing bridge connecting his home with the city made you a bit scared.

A smart gate let you in, somehow knowing you were you. You knew a lot about technology thanks to your job, but Sato’s residence always were a few steps ahead, given the fact that both parents used to be scientifics.

You parked near the door, stepping out of the car and walking to the house. It was quiet and it spooked you a little bit.

You were unsure as if you should knock the door, they knew you were there from the gate, but you still did.

“Come on in!” Hearing it in person the voice sounded more distorted, you knew it was him, but it sounded distant, loud and robotic.

You opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind you, a big empty living room welcomed you.

“Uh… I know it’s… Hard to understand, and I know you hate him, and…” You heard his voice again, this time coming from what seemed speakers around the house.

“Hate him? Who?” You questioned, even though you weren’t sure he could hear you.

“Just Imma need you to keep it as a secret, and don’t freak out!” He seemed to be stumbling on his own words. You saw an elevator come out of the floor, you didn’t question it much and just stepped in, feeling a bit dizzy as it went down.

“You’re the only smart person I know… And I’ll be in a lot of trouble if you decide to speak ‘bout it, but I trust you.” You weren’t hearing him through the speakers anymore, yet he sounded loud. “I need you to not yell me, judge me, or be mad at me, just help me.” Every time he said anything, it made you more confused, what could be so bad?

One of the walls of the elevator raised, letting you get out of it.

And you saw him. Ultraman.

“Surprise…” You heard Sato’s voice coming out of him.

He was crouching because of the tall walls, not tall enough for him though.

“Ah… You’ve got to be kidding me.” You whispered, feeling surprised and annoyed at the same time.

The little big asshole who was ruining any time the KDF tried to capture kaijus was your childhood best friend.

The arrogant giant who would destroy apartments instead of safely getting kaijus out of the city was a famous baseball player.

And you knew him too well, enough for him to tell you who he was, and now you had to help him and keep his identity a secret.

“I wish I was…” You heard him whisper, though whispering at that size didn’t count as a whisper. “I can’t turn back. I’m stuck.” He explained, you walked closer to him, and he sat down crossed leg, not needing to crouch anymore.

“That’s why you didn’t went to your games?” You asked, he drew a hand near you, palms up, he wanted you to step on it.

You hesitated, a bit scared of heights, but did it anyways. You sat on his palm, legs crossed as well, and he held you with both hands.

“And what do you want me to do?” You questioned, having mixed feelings about if you were helping your best friend or the reason of your headaches at work.

“I don’t know… You know a lot about kaijus, I’m basically the same.” He was not, both of you knew that, but whatever. “Please…” He gave you what seemed to be puppy eyes, even though you could only see white pupils.

“I’ll see what I can do… You still got your dad’s stuff?” You asked, he nodded. “Mina?”  He called, and the little ball assistant appeared, with said stuff literally coming from the floor.

Complicated machines, complicated tools, some similar to the ones you’ll see at work, some you’ve never seen before but you guessed you’ll have to figure out.

“Alright… Put me down, I guess.”

You made him a simple blood test. Finding veins on such body was hard, trying to identify anything on the blood sample was harder.

“So… What are you? A machine? A monster?” You asked, both out of curiosity and because it could help you figure out what happened to him.

“I’m not sure… My dad told me we are like… Aliens, or used to be, at least.” He explained.

“Well, some kaijus come from the space.” You started. “Maybe you are closer to kaijus than you think.” He seemed to think about it for a while, you knew how he struggled to see kaijus as anything else than soulless monsters.

“Mina, can you check this, please?” You told her, giving her the blood sample. She took it and left.

You stared at him, with a mix of confusion and aweness.

“See something you like? Hm?” He said with a flirty voice. You laughed.

“Not yet, ask me again when you’re Kenji and not Ultraman” You flirted back, making him slightly surprised.

Mina came back, with a piece of paper that noted anything found. A bunch of cells you didn’t knew, probably part of his alien side, but you recognized something.

A common virus found on some kaijus that made them incapable of controlling their powers, which seemed to be what was happening to him.

“Alright… How do I get rid of it?” He asked once you explained the situation, you could see the desperation in his eyes.

“Well… We don’t really cure kaijus when they’re sick, and we can’t treat it like a normal virus since you’re humongous and can’t drink or eat…” You thought, sitting on the floor, feeling his puppy eyes back on you. “Kaijus can usually get rid of the viruses by themselves, so if we can mimic kaijus antibodies, you might be able to do the same.” You explained, and he agreed, just wanting to get out of the situation.

You were a bit worried his body couldn’t handle it, but you trusted that his alien-self would do the work.

You gave the indications to Mina; you were lucky she had Professor Sato knowledge on her.

You modified Kenji’s blood so it would produce the antibodies that were needed.

“So… I reprogrammed your cells to produce what we need, kind of like a cancer.” The word spooked him, but he trusted you.

Mina set everything up for the blood transfusion.

“Alright… I hope you understand this is risky” You muttered to him, trying to prepare his arm. “Gosh, you’re huge…”

“I know, just hurry up.” You heard him say, hints of normal Kenji voice behind the <<robotic>> filter that it gave his voice. You stared up to him a bit annoyed by his rushing. “And… You’re the best scientist I know, so please help me.” You blushed slightly, shaking your head.

“Thank you, I guess.” You whispered, feeling those uncanny white pupils on you. “Alright… Here I go…” With the help of Mina once again, you started the process. “Let me know If you feel something…” You told him, staring at him worried it might go all wrong.

You sat down with him, on one of his thighs, waiting for it to have any effect.

“So… You’re Ultraman” You stared at him. He simply shrugged, not seeming to be too happy about it. “I’m guessing that’s why you came back from America.” He nodded, not elaborating any further.

“I’m sorry… I know I’ve been causing trouble to… Ya’ll” You knew what he was referring to, the KDF.

"It's okay... You should start doing better, though. It's difficult relocating people and fixing buildings and...” You scolded him, both because you were right and because you enjoyed annoying him, and you knew you succeeded when he sighed audibly.

“I know, I know! I'm trying, alright?" You laughed slightly, him laughing back when he noticed you were just playing with him, even if there was a piece of truth behind your words.

“You know?... I missed you, I was sad you didn’t call me” You whispered, probably feeling less exposed since he didn’t looked like Kenji, you were sure you were going to regret it, but it was late at night and you were tired. You let yourself lay down, still on top of his thigh. “Oh, you did?” You heard him, somehow, hearing his smile. “I’m sorry, I thought you were mad.” He whispered, realizing you were falling asleep.

“And I was… You could still have called me, though.” You whispered back.

You woke up hours later, feeling the harsh floor under you, with the warmth of arms around you. Blinking slowly trying to adjust to the light, looking up to see Kenji in a deep sleep, hugging you tightly.

You blushed, freezing in your place unsure of what to do. “K-Ken…” You called up to him, trying to squeeze yourself free.

“Ngh… Five mins’ more…” He whispered, raspy morning voice getting to your ears as he hugged you tighter. Suddenly he opened his eyes. “You’re not small anymore!” He exclaimed, happily. “I’m not huge!” He stood up, taking you with him. “You saved me!” He hugged you tightly. “Thank you!” He grabbed you by the shoulders, staring into your eyes with a huge smile on his face. You blushed. Why did Ultraman had to be so cute? “Coach is going to kill me.” He said suddenly, running towards the elevator you came from.

“Kenji…” You called, annoyed that he was leaving you just like that.

“A-Ah… I’ll take you to dinner, yes? Tonkatsu Toki. 7pm. I’ll pick you up.” He didn’t let you answer and just left.

-----

-tags

@luneariaa @aise-30 @kalsplace

[orengejoshi]

Love you art. My favorite thing is definitely your coloring. Flug does give t boy swag. Hope to see more of your drawing soon. Out of curiosity what do you hope for season 2?

Thank youu🥺💜

I know what you meant but just the entire term "T boy swag" reminded me of my fav rapper who just goes by "T" and since I wanted to do that for a while anyway (his songtexts would resonate with Flug so much) I used this as an excuse to redraw one of his album covers, so I love that, I'm gonna steal that heheh

(relatively unrelated for everyone except me lol but I always throw in some art when replying to asks)

umm yeah so... we're not even done with the first season, so idk. from S1-B I predict more of what we've had so far; more or less episodic comedy, slowly easing us into a connected plot. 6th episode already kinda introduced that.

it's gonna be one of those cartoons like TOH who start off silly and episodic in the first season and develop into a melodramatic serialized show from 2nd season onwards.

this is going to be an unpopular opinion but I actually do not 100% vibe with that, I prefer episodic cartoons like SpongeBob or South Park without overarching plot; comedy over drama. but it was always obvious that Villainous is gonna have a fuck ton of lore so I'm not disappointed.

my criticism rn is that I feel it's already way too many characters I'm sorry. it's getting pretty convoluted. I'm just not a fan of that but again pretty subjective. I can't bring myself to care for absolutely any character that we haven't seen animated yet. it's been too long for me to throw too many new characters in the mix, I've been nonstop hyperfixated since 7 years so I'm skeptical about changes.

as for the plot, I have no idea. we're in so early that I can't even imagine where this is gonna go.

for the end I wish that no ship with the main 3 becomes canon. it's just going to create fandom wars, just leave it open

I just want to see Flug happy...

I'll always just hope to get as much information about Flug as possible

definitely hope they explore Miss Heed's character too, as long as she doesn't end up with Flug l'm interested in her. I would like to see her getting worse (maybe switching sides?) before finally healing and learning to love herself

I want to know more about Goldheart and consequently about Flug's past

I wish for Demencia to snap out of her brainwash some day and learn about her past. I need Flug and Demencia to become real good friends and escape together with 505. I do NOT want them to become heroes but in order to find true happiness and peace they'll have to leave this place imo

but I think most of that is WAY in the future, this won't all happen in the 2nd season. but idk how long this series is gonna be, I doubt the crew even knows, so ye!

[averagewriter-inthedark]

When Three Became Two 🪽| Platonic!Weasley Twins Imagine

Set during the Battle of Hogwarts

Harry Potter masterlist

Characters & Pairings: George & Fred Weasley x Sister!Weasley Triplet (platonic), the Golden Trio x weasley!sister (platonic)

Content Warnings: Character Death, sadness, angst, mentions of blood and major injury, profanity | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 7k

Premise: The dynamic redheaded duo Fred & George were never particularly close with their older triplet sister Y/N, especially after she was sorted into Slytherin during their first year at Hogwarts. It is not till the Battle of Hogwarts do the twins realize just how important family is, but by then it was too late to make amends.

(Y/E/C)- Your eye color

Note: I’m going to put red hair because you know Weasley but if you want to envision your own hair color that is totally fine too. Also, just so y'all know....I started this piece back in 2018 and recently picked it back up. So....the last 400 words are pretty much the most recent material I added + i did A LOT of editing. So I apologize if the beginning is trash because like I said, 6k of the nearly 7k words are from 6 years ago. I've been hyperfixating on the Weasley twins again which is why I was like 'maybe I should finish that imagine I started...'

Italics are flashbacks

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

Y/n Weasley felt the sweat and blood drip off her forehead as she ran through the halls of the school she had spent several years in which became a second home to her. She was out of breath, dodging and reflecting spells that were casted her way from the surrounding death eaters. Screams and shouts echoed from every corner, flashes of red and green light nearly blinding her (Y/E/C) eyes while her flaming red hair swished when she ran. Her breath was wavering, she could see several of her fellow Order members dueling around her. Passing the Great Hall, her pace nearly faltering when her eyes locked on the doors, the memory of walking through the first time when she was just a nervous little eleven year old began to play in the redheads mind….

Y/n sighed, stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Her twin brothers had already raced to the boats leaving the smaller, although older, of the three behind. Picking up her robes that were slightly dragging due to her small stature, Y/n followed her fellow classmates to the boating docks, casting a smile to Hagrid as she walked past him, who in return smiled back. She found a boat that already had two other first years seated, and quickly took the spot adjacent to a girl about her age.

“Hi,” the girl smiled to the redhead, “I’m Angelina Johnson. What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/n Weasley, it’s nice to meet you,” the two shook hands with smiles.

“What house are you hoping to be in?”

“Honestly,” Y/n sighed, “I’m not sure. My whole family has been in Gryffindor, including my two older brothers who are currently here. It would be nice to be sorted there so I have my family, but I’ve always felt different.”

“Are those other two ginger boys your brothers?” Angelina pointed to the boat where Fred and George were laughing loudly while talking with a dark-skinned boy. Y/n nodded after looking where Angelina was pointing, turning back with a grim expression.

“Yeah, that’s Fred and George. We’re triplets, I’m the oldest of the bunch yet I never seem to be included in anything.”

“Aw, that’s not right,” Angelina said with a frown. The two continued to talk the entire boat ride to the castle, learning about their backgrounds and finding out  they had several similar interests. One could tell that the two instantly connected and were on the road to becoming best friends. The two girls got off the boat once it got to the docks, Y/n helping Angelina when she nearly tripped as she got out, to which the young girl was grateful for. 

“Oh my gosh thank you!” Angelina exclaimed, “That would have been so embarrassing.” Y/n laughed slightly, fixing the girl’s robes.

“No problem, I wouldn't want you tripping on the first night and being made fun of before classes even started.” The two girls followed everyone to the entrance of the castle, beaming in awe of everything they passed. Climbing the steps that lead to the great hall seemed like forever, but soon they were faced with an older woman who wore a pointed hat on top of her head and green robes. 

“Good evening,” she greeted, “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, the doors behind me will open and you will enter the Great Hall where you will then be sorted into one of the four houses named after the four founding members of Hogwarts; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin--.” She continued to explain the four houses to the children before the doors opened. When they did, Professor McGonagall escorted the group into the Great Hall. Many looked at the ceiling, gasping at the candles floating in midair. Some caught the eyes of soon to be fellow classmates, the students sending smiles to the young ones. 

The group halted in front of the steps leading to the podium. The members of the head table gazed down on the children, Headmaster Dumbledore giving them a warm smile to welcome them making many feel more at ease. Professor McGonagall stood beside a stool, on top of it was a brown pointed hat. 

“When I call your name,” she said, capturing everyone's attention, “You will step up, take a seat on the stool and I will place the sorting hat on your head where you will be sorted into your houses.” Y/n felt her hands become clammy, nerves racking through here with each name being called getting closer to hers. When Angelina was called and sorted into Gryffindor, Y/n clapped for her with a smile, happy for her new friend. She immediately hoped she would also be sorted into the house to be with not only her older brothers, but also with Angelina. 

“Weasley, Fred.” The ginger boy raced up the stairs, careful not to trip over his robes and took a seat on the stool with a grin. The hat was placed onto his head and it took only moments before the hat exclaimed, “GRYFFINDOR!!” Cheers erupted from the lion house, the older Weasley boys, Charlie and Percy, clapping loudly for their brother and greeting him with open arms when he ran to the table. George was called next, the boy also running to the stool and the Gryffindor house applauded with joy once more hearing the sorting hat call out the name again. Fred and George embraced in a big hug, happy they were going to be in the same house and sat next to each other beside their brothers. 

The room went quiet and Professor McGonagall read out the name many had already guessed was next, “Weasley, Y/n.” The small eleven-year-old let out a shaky breath, ascending the steps before taking a seat on the stool. She flinched when the hat was placed on her head and heard a gasp emitted from it.

“Ahh another Weasley,” the hat began, “only you are much different than your many siblings huh? Loyal to your family, a trait you value, but Hufflepuff is not for you. There is no doubt you are brave like a Gryffindor, there will be a time your bravery will be put to the test, but there is a strong ambition that lies within you. You are a very determined young one, and will do anything to accomplish your goals.” Y/N felt her heart begin to beat faster as the hat continued talking, “So, there is only one house in which you will find what you are looking for and that is SLYTHERIN!!”

That day, while no one wanted to admit it, changed everything. The twins hardly ever talked to Y/N, even less than what they already had. Many of the Slytherins ignored her, not enjoying the fact that a member of the blood-traitor family was sorted into the notorious pure-blood house. Even though Y/N was of pure blood, it did not matter to them, she was still relatively shunned from her housemates. Professor Snape was displeased at first until she proved she had a talent for potion making, becoming more advanced than any student he had ever taught. It was then he treated the Weasley girl with some actual respect and even allowed her to practice in the classroom whenever she pleased as long as she promised to never let her brothers get their hands on any of the ingredients he stored in the room. 

Charlie, Angelina, and Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff seemed to be the only people besides her parents and professors that looked beyond the fact she was in Slytherin. Others included her older brother Bill, her younger sister Ginny and eventually Hermione Granger. The bushy haired Gryffindor met the older Weasley in her first year at Hogwarts. After being told of the talented potion maker from Ron, Hermione sought to meet her. Y/N was shocked when the girl first introduced herself, but it was the start of a treasured friendship Y/N held dear to her. 

“Hi!” a cheerful voice sounded, causing Y/N to look up from her textbook. Her eyes met the warm brown ones of a petite girl bushy haired girl sporting a Gryffindor tie and robes. The Slytherin girl gazed at her confused, looking around  the library in case she was addressing someone else other than her. By the warm smile the first-year gave her, Y/N realized she was in fact talking to her. 

“Uh hi?” she said with a questionable tone, brows furrowed. The girl stuck her hand out which made Y/N slightly flinch by how fast the movement was.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she introduced. Y/N hesitantly extended her own hand, clasping it with the girl's small one and shook it lightly.

“Y/N Weasley.”

“I know,” Hermione smiled, “Ron told me about you. Well he did not tell me much except your name and that you were in Slytherin. He also mentioned you were really good with potions and Snape likes you.” Y/N could not help but slightly chuckle at the last sentence.

“I wouldn’t say Snape ‘likes’ me, but he certainly tolerates me more than my siblings. You’ve probably already seen that the twins are pranksters, they tend to cause him immense distress.” This made Hermione laugh and Y/N felt her lips curl up. She then noticed the girl holding several textbooks, one of which was a first-year potions book, “Is there anything I can help you with Hermione?” 

“I just wanted to get to know you,” the girl said warmly, which made Y/N slightly shocked. “Ron and the twins did not speak much about you and when they did they made it seem like you were horrible just because you were sorted into Slytherin. I know that a house does not define who a person really is, so I wanted to talk to you myself and it appears you are not a mean or evil person that your house makes people think you are.” Y/N could not believe what she was hearing and she could not detect any hint of a lie in the girl's words. 

“Wow,” She breathed, “Sorry, I’m just a little taken back. It’s been a while since I’ve really heard anyone say that. Only my older siblings, minus Percy, my parents, my sister, and a few people who I happen to be friends with think the same way you do. Ron and the twins just really ignore me.”

“But aren’t you and the twins actually triplets?” The question caused Y/N to frown and look down at her book.

“Yeah,” she muttered softly, “We are. Many people forget that we are because we never act like it, but it’s okay, I’m used to the two leaving me out. It happened before we were sorted into our houses so it does not bother me much anymore. I’ve learned to live with it.” Hermione frowned at that, feeling sad for the older Weasley.

“That’s not right. You guys are siblings, family. They should not treat you like that.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. One day they will realize how they act wrong, until then I can only be patient.” Hermione nodded though she still possessed a frown  and Y/N pushed away the many books laid on the table, gesturing for the girl to take a seat. “Here, sit down. You said you want to get to know me, so let's just talk while we do our homework and you can see how I really am compared to what Ron tells you. I’ll even help you with potions if you need.” Hermione beamed, placing her books on the table and sitting down across from the redhead. The two talked for hours until it was time for curfew, getting to know one another and Y/N offering help when Hermione had a question on a certain subject and Y/N felt it was the start of a blossoming friendship.

The years continued, and Y/N only had few friends, hardly ever seeing her siblings due to them all being sorted into Gryffindor leaving her alone. Her friendship with Hermione grew and she even looked at the girl as a sister, the Gryffindor looking at her the same way. Y/N and Angelina remained close even after being sorted in different houses. Despite having few friends, she could not wait to graduate and finally go off on her own, already planning to continue her work in potions and become a potioneer after spending countless summers devoted to perfecting different elixirs. Several events happened during her time at Hogwarts, including her sister Ginny unlocking the Chamber of Secrets and the tragedy of the TriWizard Tournament. 

When the Order of the Phoenix was back in business to stop Voldemort following the death of her dear friend Cedric, Y/n immediately joined despite objections from her parents. The death of her friend caused immense grief. She became depressed in the following months, hardly sleeping due to nightmares of his corpse and she rarely ate, resulting in her facial features becoming more hollow. It was not until she joined the Order that she was back to her normal self and that was because of her determination to bring justice to Cedric’s death. The Order faced great loss. The deaths of Sirius, Dumbledore, Moody and with her brother George losing his ear proved how real the war was and the fight to make the world a safer place. 

Now it was the second of May, and the fight of everyone’s life was in place. Death Eaters swarmed every inch of Hogwarts, attacking students whether they were armed or not. Y/N ran down the corridors, deflecting spells and sending jinxes back and forth. Her adrenaline was soaring, not knowing where exactly she was headed, but the only thing she knew was to survive and protect the students around her. Y/n never thought she would ever cast the killing curse in her life, but when a second-year Hufflepuff was about to be killed, the spell left her mouth before she could stop herself. The Death Eater fell back unmoving, Y/n took the hand of the small boy she saved and hurried him to the nearest dormitory or classroom. 

“Here, go!” she ushered him into the room, “Stay here and do not leave! Hide somewhere and be alert, you understand?” The boy nodded furishouly, his small body shaking and clutching his wand tightly in his hand. The redhead raced out of the room, closing the door shut before darting down the hallway. A flash of familiar hair caught her eye and her feet carried her to the source. “Ginny!” She shouted upon seeing her sister. The younger Weasley halted her movement at the sound, turning around only to collide in the older one’s embrace. “Oh my God,” Y/n breathed, “Are you okay? Why are you out here? I thought you were to stay in the Room of Requirement until this was over?”

“Harry needed me to leave,” she told her sister, the two moving to a corner where they were slightly hidden from the battle, “He needed to search the room for a possible horcrux. Once he went in, I left and came here. I couldn’t just let my friends and family fight with the chances of them getting killed and just sit and wait!” Y/n sighed, bringing a hand to wipe the sweat on her face which resulted in more dirt being rubbed. 

“While I don’t like you being involved, I understand where you’re coming from.” She pauses to rub her nose bridge, placing her hands on Ginny’s shoulders to look at her sternly, “Mum and dad might kill me for letting you fight, but there’s really no time to negotiate and stop you. At least find Neville or someone who can stay close to you and keep you covered, okay?” Ginny nodded, embracing her sister once more in a tight hug. 

“Stay safe, sis.”

“I will,” Y/n told her, “You stay safe too, I’ll see you soon.” The two pulled away and Y/n bolted away down the hall while Ginny rushed to Tonks after seeing her battle a Death Eater and rushing to her aid. Y/n turned the corner, something in her stomach dropping and her intuition telling her something bad was about to happen. She heard the sound of a duel taking place and followed it. Familiar voices echoed in her ears and her pace picked up. The redhead rounded the corridor, jets of light flashing in her eyes and she spotted Fred and Percy battling Death Eaters while Harry, Ron, and Hermione helped while dodging incoming jinxes. 

“Hello, Minister!” Percy bellowed, sending a jinx at the man, “Did I mention I’m resigning?” 

“You’re joking, Perce!” Fred shouted and looked at his brother. Y/n watched the two and in the corner of eyes she could see a Death Eater with their wand raised. Her brothers could not see the man, and she noticed he was pointing at the wall directly behind them. Before she could think, Y/n sprinted as fast as her feet carried her, eyes widening when the flash of light emitted from the want of the assailant. At that moment, nothing mattered other than making sure her brothers were safe. All the years of being ignored and looked down upon by them due to being sorted in Slytherin seemed to vanish, and Y/n felt water line her eyes as she got closer. 

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don’t think I’ve heard you joke since you were--.”

“Fred! Percy!” Her scream ignited and the two snapped their heads toward her just in time for the redhead to push them both out of the way at the exact moment the air exploded around them. The two brothers along with the Golden Trio were flown back from the impact, all landing onto the stone ground with a groan. Pain erupted to several areas of their bodies which would surely bruise. Dust covered them, their vision blurred from how much was in the air. 

Fred pulled his body up, groaning from the pain in his side and coughing from how much dust filled his throat. He scanned the area and saw how the wall he was in front of was blasted apart with stone and wood now covering every inch of the ground with a large pile in the middle. It took two seconds for the ginger to realize what had happened, the last thing he saw was his sister running at him before he was flown back. He immediately got up and rushed to the pile of debris, staggering over the stones while shouting his sister's name.

“Y/n!!” He screamed, moving at a fast pace. “Y/n, can you hear me!” The boy began throwing the many pieces of stone and wood away from the pile, searching for any sign of movement and listening for sound. Percy and the trio joined in, the group shouting Y/n name and digging through the debris. “C’mon Y/n I need you to tell me where you are!” Fred grew more and more worried, feeling his heart sink by the second. It was not until he heard a pained groan and rushed to the source. He spotted a hand peeking through the rubble and Fred shouted for the others saying he found her. They all rushed to him, removing the stone covering Y/n's body, allowing Fred to pull her out of the wreckage when they were able to get her upper half revealed. She let out a scream, pain erupting all through her and Fred tried his best to get her out as gently as he could. 

“I got you, sis.” He said with a shaky voice, “I got you.” With one quick but harsh tug, Y/n was removed from the rubble and was laid onto the floor. Everyone surrounded her, becoming frozen by how much blood covered her body. Cuts and gashes painted her skin, her clothing ripped and chunks of stone were embedded into the many wounds. Her breath wavered, gasping for air and they all felt their heart race at the sight. Hermione, with shaky hands, pressed a palm on to a deep cut in Y/n’s neck. The Weasley girl hissed, blood filling her mouth and dripping down her lips. 

“You’re going to be okay, Y/n,” Hermoine’s voice cracked, trying not to look at the many wounds which the girl could tell will be fatal if not treated immediately. Ron could see a large gash right above his sister’s temple and gently laid his hand on top of it, while biting his lip to stop a sob from escaping. He knew it was bad, and his sister was dying in front of him. They needed a healer, but the Great Hall was several corridors away and Ron feared she would not make it in time. Percy began calling for help, applying pressure onto her stomach which had been cut open when a large piece of wood had impaled her. Harry stayed on his feet with his wand ready for any threats while also keeping his eye on Y/n, his heart dropping at the sight of her battered body. 

“I can’t--,” Y/n gasped with a tired breath as Fred held her hand, “I can’t feel my legs.” She could hear them gasp, Fred’s hand becoming tense in her hold. 

“We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey!” Fred shouted and went to pick her up, the others keeping their hands on her wounds to hold the bleeding but when they tried Y/n erupted in wails from the pain filling her by the slightest movement. It was like a volcano, fire filling her blood. The thick liquid poured out of her wounds, her skin becoming pale. Hermione’s hands were painted red, as were Ron and Percy’s. The sound of her screams were so loud it echoed through the nearby hallway and caused tears to stream down Hermione’s face.

“Stop!” she shouted, “Fred stop! It’s too late, she won’t make it!” 

“You don’t know that!” He yelled back trying to get his sister into his arms, his clothes now coated in red. Y/n began to shake from the pain, becoming numb by the intensity and Fred started to panic. 

“Fred, she’s losing too much blood,” Hermione cried, “She’ll bleed out before we can even get her to the Great Hall.”

“Are you serious, Hermione?!” Fred shouted in disbelief over the chaos around them, “Do you even hear yourself?! She’s your friend and you’re gonna let her die!? ”

“Fred stop,” Y/n's hoarse voice whispered. The ginger boy looked down at his sister, her upper body being held up in his arms while the others continued to put pressure on her wounds but blood continued to seep through their fingers. 

“What--?”

“She’s r-right,” Y/n interrupted, “I-I won’t make it. The pain is too much--I-I can’t move and I'm losing too much blood.” She was shaking, fighting against what was pulling her to the other side to have a few precious moments with her family. “You need to get out of here, go find mum and dad.” Fred could not believe what he was hearing, neither Ron nor Percy. All three boys felt their eyes water and Fred tightened his hold on her. Percy grabbed her other hand, and Ron kept his on her head, covering her wound while tears flooded his face. 

“Y/n,” Fred stuttered her name, “We can get you to a healer. Madam Pomfrey will help and she will heal you, you’ll be fine.” The words were more to convince himself. He watched as her lips curled up, tired and broken eyes looking into his. 

“Fred,” she sighed, “You and I both know that I am not going to make it.” A sob escaped his throat.

“No! You’re not dying! You’re going to be okay!” He cried, dropping his head so his cheek rested on her hair. “You’re going to get out of here. You’re going to go home and learn how to walk again and become a potioneer like you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll get married and have kids…” He trailed off when sobs overtook him and he began to cry into her hair. Fred never believed he would ever have to watch his sister die in his arms. He had never felt more pain in his life than in that moment watching her gasp for air as her life started to fade away. What made it even more painful was knowing she saved him in the process, “I was supposed to die, not you! Not you!” 

Fred started to think back to all the times he and George would ignore Y/n, never including her in pranks or just ordinary things. The moment she was sorted into Slytherin they acted like they were not even related at times and Fred felt more tears fall knowing he could never make up for it. He won’t ever get the chance to show her how sorry he was. 

“Y/N go get your brothers and tell them supper is ready.”

“Yes mum.” Y/N raced up the many flights of stairs in the burrow in search of her twin brothers. When she got to the room, she knocked gently and waited for a reply but did not hear one so she pushed it open to see the two boys sitting on the ground in between their beds with several items in front of them. 

“Hey, hey!” Fred shouted in surprise and George started to gather their many inventions away from her sight. “You can’t just come in here without saying anything!” Y/N frowned at him.

“I knocked,” she told him, “neither of you responded.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, “Still does not mean you can just walk in our room unannounced. We are doing something very exclusive and can’t risk you snitching it to mum or dad or your pal Snape.” Y/n’s eyes narrowed at her brother.

“Snape is not my ‘pal.’ He just stands me more than you lot because you are always causing him trouble.” George mumbled something under his breath, but the girl could not hear it. “And besides, I haven’t told anyone about your previous antics so why would I do so now?”

“Oh please,” Fred said in an annoyed tone, “we know you told Filch that we were the ones who put fireworks in his office second-year.” Y/N’s jaw dropped at the accusation, her cheeks becoming inflamed as anger rose.

“I did no such thing!” she shouted, “whoever told you that was a lie! I never ratted you out to Filch and why would he believe me? He thinks I’m just as bad as you two because I’m a Weasley.”

“Sometimes I don’t understand how you are one?”

“Excuse me?” she said appalled, “What in the bloody hell do you mean by that?” The twins just looked at her with blank expressions while she felt her eyes begin to water. 

“Well first,” Fred started, “the most obvious is that you are the only one of us who got sorted into Slytherin. A house you know is full of pure-blooded pricks and bullies who hate everyone but themselves. You don’t like quidditch like the rest of us and prefer to be by yourself working on potions. Snape likes you, but hates the rest of us and you just have always been the outkast in the family. Who knows, you may even become a Death Eater like the rest of your housemates. Maybe you already are one and just haven’t said anything, wouldn’t be surprised you never tell anyone in this house what you are up to.” Y/n stayed silent when Fred finished, she felt a small tear fall down her cheek but neither of her brothers looked like they were unapologetic. She bit her lip giving a small nod and wiped away the drop.

“Mum wants you to know that supper is ready.” Turning on her heel, Y/n paced out of the room with the door slamming shut behind her. She shoved past Percy who simply glared at her for her attitude and bumping into him, obviously not knowing what the twins had said to her to cause such emotion. The redhead burst into her room, collapsing onto her bed and pushing her face into her pillow as cries erupted from her, being muffled by the pillow. She felt her heart break, her brother's words replaying in her head causing torment like a radio playing a horrible song over and over again. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n,” he wept into her hair, “I’m sorry I treated you so badly. For everything. Ignoring you, pranking you in ways that had humiliated you and made you cry. Accusing you of snitching on us when you never did.” He held her close to his body, breaking inside each time she made a sound of agony. “I’m sorry for what I said to you during fourth year. I’m such a horrible brother,” he sobbed, “Please sis, don’t go. Don’t leave us.” 

“It’s okay, Fred,” she hushed him, stroking his arm with the hand Percy wasn’t holding. The two other Weasley boys were sobbing next to her. They two often treated her unfairly and were now going to live in tremendous guilt and despair, begging God to not take her. “It’s okay,” she said again, this time quieter.

“Y-Y/N,” Percy stuttered, but she simply hushed him.

Her voice grew weaker, and the group knew it was only moments before she would be gone forever. “It’s gonna be okay. I love--,” it was getting harder to speak, but she was fighting. “I love you all.”

“We love you too. We always will,” Ron said and Hermione started to cry harder, leaning onto Ron for support. Harry no longer looked around for Death Eaters, his own face drenched in tears at the sight in front of him. He felt anguish in him, seeing another friend die at the hands of those who wanted him dead. 

“You think I’ll see Cedric up there?” She questioned, eyelids falling shut and the image of her best friend filled her mind. Happy at the thought of possibly seeing him again. Fred let out a small cry before she felt him nod. 

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, “He’ll be waiting for you. You’ll be together again just like before.” 

“Freddie?”

“Yeah, sis?”

“Take care of George,” she managed to breathe out, “Tell him I love him.” 

“I will,” He sniffed, feeling her take one last breath.

“Promise me you will live.” The air left her body one last time, the pain no longer present and Y/n felt at peace, unable to hear Fred’s last words to her. 

 “I promise. I love you, sis.” But Y/N did not respond, causing him to gently shake her.  Her lack of reaction caused Fred to collapse into a heap of cries when her body finally went limp in his arms. “Y-y/n?” 

Percy felt her hand become unmoved and he too, cried in heartbreak. Ron held onto Hermione, turning his body away so he did not see his now dead sister in his brother’s arms. His heart was heavy with agony and he could not help console Hermione for he was in the same state. Harry dropped his head, sadness all within him at the loss of someone he looked at as family. He would never forgive himself, and he wished nothing more for Y/n to be brought back.

“Y/n,” Fred tried again, but to no avail. “W-wake up. Please w-wake u-up.”

The Golden Trio had to force themselves to leave, to continue their search before more people died. Harry and Hermoine having to drag poor Ron away from his siblings. None wanted to go, but time was limited and it took all their strength to get up and leave Percy and Fred with Y/n’s body. Promising Ron they’d get her to their family once it was safe to do so. 

The two Weasley brothers lost track of time. They stayed put, mourning the loss of their sister until the battle ceased and they were drained of tears. It soon became quiet in the castle, Death Eaters had retreated upon Voldermorts order and bodies laid all through the halls. 

“We should take her to the Great Hall,” Percy spoke with a dry voice, hoarse from all the cries. “Take her to mum and dad.” Fred was still, looking in front of him at the dusted hallway full of debris from the explosion that killed his sister. She was still held close in his arms, eyes closed and the blood stopped flowing but coated every inch of her skin along with Fred’s clothes. It took all his might to look down, eyes landing on her face. She looked peaceful, her lips slightly curled as though she had died smiling and that gave Fred some sort of comfort despite her damaged body. 

That she left the world at peace. 

“You think she’ll watch over us? Even though we treated her like shit?” His voice cracked. The older Weasley gazed down at his little sister, a small yet heartbroken smile on his lips and he cleared his throat. His hand came over her forehead to move some of her red hair, flinching at how cold her skin was.

“Yeah,” he said, “I think she will.” Fred carefully stood, cradleling Y/n in his arms. Percy rose beside him, grabbing their discarded wands and leading them out of the hallway, careful to avoid the debris around them. They reached the Great Hall, hearing the sound of others. Many were painful groans, others were cries of despair. The two emerged in the doorway, paying no mind to those around them and instead continued to walk forward until they saw their parents, Ginny and older brothers Bill and Charlie. Ginny was the first to see them, and rushed to them relieved they were okay and searched for her sister, but when her eyes landed on what was in Fred’s arms she halted. She could see the flaming red hair similar to hers and the blood stained clothing on the unmoving body. Her mouth went agape, hand flying to cover it as her eyes filled with water threatening to escape.

“Please tell me it’s not--.” But Percy simply shook his head, looking at his baby sister with sorrow and Ginny let out a small scream, falling to the ground but was caught by Bill. He stared at the Y/n’s lifeless body, his heart breaking into pieces and he tried desperately to console Ginny, but found it hard to battle his own grief emerging. Molly and Arthur ran upon hearing their daughter’s scream and froze when they saw their son.

“Fred,” Arthur said in a hesitant voice. His son looked at him with tear filled eyes, lips quivering and for Fred, he could feel his body start to shake.

“I-I-I,” he could not find the words, “S-she saved us. She saved us…..” His knees nearly gave out and his brothers Percy and Charlie helped him lower their deceased sister onto the ground. After gently placing the fallen Weasley onto the stone floor, Fred once more collapsed over her body as his grief overpowered him once more. Molly fell back into her husband’s arms, wailing in agony, he too had trouble holding her up as his body racked with sobs. Ginny was still on the floor, being cradled by Bill while Charlie and Percy stood over Fred, rubbing his back with tears of their own falling. 

Onlookers watched with solemn expressions. The sight was gut wrenching but unfortunately resembled many throughout the Great Hall as friends mourned friends and teachers draped blankets over their deceased students.

“No! Not my girl!” Molly screamed, “Please not m-my girl.” She fell to her knees, crawling over to the opposite side of her daughter's body and caressed her cold cheek. Blood was all over her precious face, adorned with cuts and gashes, the most horrific on her head and neck. Molly did not even want to look down at Y/n’s body, for she was afraid of what else had happened to cause her daughter such a horrific death. Arthur could see the gaping wound in Y/n’s torso, his stomach lurching at the sight and he had to turn away as he felt nauseous. 

George burst through the entrance of the Great Hall. He had separated from his family and Fred at some point during the battle which resulted in his anxiety to soar at not knowing where they were. He heard the wounded were being treated in the Great Hall along with the bodies of those who perished being moved until further notice, so the ginger bolted to the location as fast as he could. His eyes scanned every inch of the large dining hall, and soon he could see a group of people with the same colored hair as him, instantly relieved. 

George walked with a rushed pace, slowing with confusion when he heard the wretched cries of his parents and siblings. They were all huddled, blocking his view of the ground. He immediately looked for Fred, becoming relaxed when he saw his brother alive. But George’s stomach dropped at the broken look painted on his twin’s face.

“F-Fred,” he stuttered out as he approached him, “what’s wron----.” Something behind Fred’s shoulder caught his eye, George’s gaze falling to the still figure on the ground. That’s when he realized the fact Fred was kneeling on the ground, hovered over the figure, and his mother was sobbing into their neck. 

His twin lifted his head, turning to meet George’s eyes, which revealed the horrific reality waiting for him. There, lying on the stretcher covered in a dark red--almost black--substance and nearly unrecongnizable, was his sister Y/n. Unmoving. Dead. 

All the air left George’s body, face consorting to match his family as he took in sight. The clothes she wore were tattered. Dirt and grime painted the visible parts of her skin not coated in her blood. Gashes upon gashes. A nasty intrusion on her temple and torso. George felt the bile form in his throat and before he could stop it the redhead was hunched over, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Arthur instantly went to him, rubbing his back. Once it appeared George had got it all out, Arthur produced a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping his son's mouth as he had seemed to freeze.

“Y-Y/n,” he dropped to his knees. Crawling to Fred and their mother. His twin slightly moved aside to give space. George instantly reached for her hand, devastated when the cold touch hit his skin. “No.” Tears dropped from his eyes, George looking to his family for them to say it was all a nightmare. “N-no. No!” 

“George,” Molly whispered, reaching over to comfort him. 

He shook his head, not wanting to believe the truth. “What happened?!” Fred winced, returning to a heap of sobs. 

“She saved us,” Percy whispered, making George look up. “There was an explosion. A-and she pushed us out of the way. A wall came crashing down,” the older Weasley boy flinched, head dropping as he relieved the most horrifying moment of his life. “It crushed her.”

Molly wheeped into her daughter's chest. Picturing the scene. Unable to save her baby girl who she had spent so long wishing for. 

For the twins, it was like a piece of them was now missing. Creating a hole deep in their hearts. They all came into the world together. Y/n first, then Fred, lastly George. How were they supposed to go forward without the third piece of their puzzle? 

This question only surfaced the ocean-sized guilt swimming in their veins. Like Fred had done in the precious moments he held their dying sister, George was replaying all the times he had tormented Y/n. The constant pranking. Humiliating her in front of her friends and schoolmates. Getting her in trouble with their antics when she took the fall. Accusing her of snitching on them. 

George crumbled, clutching onto Y/n’s hand as he lowered his head to her torso. Praying to whoever above to take care of her in the afterlife and begging her spirit to forgive him. Wishing he could turn back time to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted his sister back. 

A cold breeze brushed his ear, almost like a whisper. George thought he felt a hand on his shoulder, but when he turned the closest person to him was Percy, and he was at least five steps away. 

Whatever it was Fred had felt it two. The redheads glancing to one another, anguish filling their gaze. For they had their suspicions of what--or who--was responsible for the touch. 

Turning back to Y/n’s body, Fred and George pictured what life was in store for them without their sister. Reality sunk in. No longer a bright light, but instead dimly lit. 

For what was once three became two. 

[lexsssu]

Again (Uchiha Sasuke)

TAGS: Sasuke/F!reader, yandere, obsession, dirty thoughts, breeding kink, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Kaa-chan told me to remind you to eat and to give you this! She said it’s your favorite.”

Gingerly taking the bento being offered to him, something flickered within Sasuke’s lone visible eye which disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. Even without opening it, he was already sure of its contents. 

You were the one who made it after all.

“Please give her my thanks when you get home. I’ll drop this off myself once I’ve cleaned it,” the Uchiha makes sure to use his left hand as he receives the lunch box, a small shiver running down his spine as a brief image of you happily preparing this meal for him appears in his mind’s eye.

“Will do, Oji-san! And thank you again for today’s training session. Please come visit us at home whenever you can. Kaa-san always looks forward to your visits. She always says you don’t visit enough,” Shinachiku’s soft laughter reminds Sasuke of how much he takes after you than Naruto.

From the shade of green in his eyes, to the way his smiles aren’t as blinding as Naruto’s and yet exudes the same strength and softness yours does. Shinachiku Uzumaki is his father’s son, but no one can ever deny that he is also his mother’s child.

He could’ve been your child.

All of them could have been yours.

If only you hadn’t been so weak.

If you simply had the power…then perhaps she’d have been yours.

Not Naruto’s…YOURS!!!

When both he and the young genin separate for the night, him to his lively home filled with the happiness and laughter of family, Sasuke on the other hand retreats to the lonely Uchiha compound. He is all too used to the dreary atmosphere of the place he once called home, his steps never faltering as he entered the main house’s kitchen and sat himself at the dining table.

Inside the 3-layer bento were several onigiri with various fillings, namely umeboshi, salmon, and bonito flakes. A tomato salad that definitely was one of your own homegrown ones (because he has never seen, smelled, and tasted any tomatoes more delicious than yours). The tomato soup was still warm and felt even warmer as he ate it as slowly as he could, savoring the myriad of flavors contained in such a seemingly simple dish. 

Though he wasn’t fond of sweets, the avenger couldn’t ignore the slice of strawberry shortcake you packed for him. The first bite of cake reminded him of the sweetness of the youth he spent with you despite his hyperfixation on killing his own brother at the time.

If he’d known the truth that early on then perhaps he wouldn’t have wasted all his time chasing after Itachi.

Naruto wouldn’t have had the chance to take you for himself if Sasuke understood that you were worth much more than his misguided revenge. 

Even though Naruto left for training with Jiraiya, the blonde was more than happy to regale him with tales of how the two of you would do your best to send each other letters despite how they constantly went from place to place. Somehow, you always found yourself to him, and he to you.

It made Sasuke sick.

Don’t even get him started on all the flies that buzzed around you while he and Naruto were gone.

Despite most of the original rookies having settled down, the Uchiha was very much aware of how these same men gravitate towards you before Naruto went and made his formal claim. 

That know-it-all Nara, the arrogant Hyuga, even Gaara of the Sand were almost always seen around you.

Hell, even that damned swordsman from Kiri who’s now currently its Mizukage was too close to you. Don’t even get him started on Haku who’d more or less become your guard dog ever since you saved both him and Zabuza all those years ago during that mission in Wave. 

As much as he despised their attentions on you, he knew deep inside of him that all of them saw the very same thing in you that drew them all in like moths to a flame. 

And he HATED it.

Hated that they all coveted you when none of them deserved to have you.

Sasuke’s last thought as he closed his eyes was that of you.

Always YOU.

The Sakura blooms you gifted him smelled so nice…It was a good thing he placed them on his bedside table, because he could close his eyes and pretend that it is the scent of your hair. 

He could pretend that it is his hands that run across the soft pink strands as you sleep.

He could pretend that he is the one who feasts upon your delicious cunt each night. His cock forcing your soft and pliant walls open again and again as your nails drag across his back, leaving angry red lines that serve as proof of how much he pleasured you. That it is his potent seed that fills your womb to the brim, globs of semen dripping from your pussy as he makes sure to pour loads and loads of his love within you.

Wouldn’t that be perfect?

Not only will he revive the Uchiha clan, but knowing that you carried his seed and nurtured them within you…he could burst from happiness just from the mere thought of it.

Sasuke falls into a deep sleep, soothed by the images of a reality that could have been.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Even though Sensei told us not to have breakfast, I still think the last thing we should do is train on an empty stomach. So I made us all some breakfast and even lunch!” 

Sasuke is once again presented with a bento filled with onigiri, but this time the hands holding onto the container were more slender as slim digits softly yet firmly gripped the lunch box. 

“I’m not sure which filling you prefer, but I have different fillings with me so you can choose which one you like best,” ever the thoughtful person you were, you selflessly offered the last Uchiha the food despite how antisocial he’d been towards you despite the time you’d spend together as classmates at the academy.

In his first life, Sasuke simply scoffed at your attempts of kindness towards him. Batting you off at every opportunity as he believed himself above such camaraderie when his only goal in life was to enact his revenge.

Not anymore.

Without saying anything, the raven-haired preteen grabbed the Okaka rice ball just before Naruto could take it.

“Hey, what’s the big idea, teme?! I was gonna get that one!”

“...Tch. Then you should’ve been quicker, dobe.”

“Why you little…!”

The sound of your tinkling laughter and Naruto’s disgruntled mumbling was music to his Sasuke’s ears.

He may have managed to get you the first time around, but not this time.

Uchiha Sasuke didn’t know who or what had flung him back into the past, but Indra knows he won’t ever make the same mistakes he did before.

[maddiedott]

It Will Come Back

Pairing: Logan Howlett x GN! Reader

Warnings: Very rushed ending, Logan through various different movies/timelines, gn! reader, fluff and tad bit of angst, sexual implications but not explicit, alcohol consumption (let me know if i missed anything)

Hi! Hope everyone is having a great day! I've been struggling with some Wolverine hyperfixation and Deadpool Wolverine being released on Disney+ like 2 days ago didn't help much. So, I decided I would finally post this fic thats been in my drafts for like a month now? It's heavily inspired by Hozier's 'It Will Come Back', so please enjoy!

Time was always a fickle thing for someone who could never age, who had lived centuries and watch as it affected everyone you loved and yet hasn’t graced you with the same courtesy, a long stretch that dipped into the horizon and melted against the inevitable void. There were times when you yearned for the ice cold grip of death, the blissful eternal sleep that most try to run away from, to prevent. But that was before you had met him, before he whispered life back into your hollow bones.

It was a fleeting encounter, words exchanged in a fraction of a second. You couldn’t recall how long this cat and mouse game played out, but you eagerly waited for the next moment you would see him, even if just for a glimpse. It started out slow, the long pull and stretch of time that came with his absence.

The first time you had met was in 1932, a time where many longed for the cold, dark Earth to envelop them so they wouldn’t have to suffer much longer. The interaction was brief, a swift knock to the shoulder as you passed down the street. He grumbled an apology, his voice rough and with an accent that didn’t quite stick in your head enough to name. There was a hesitation in his step as his gaze met yours, more of intrigue than anything else. He stopped completely as you called out, brows furrowed in annoyance. He turned towards you, apology leaving his lips. He introduced himself as James Howlett. An odd last name. You gave your name in kind with a smile.

He looked exhausted, although there wasn’t anyone in This Depression that wasn’t. So, despite your better judgment, you offered him a place to stay and some lukewarm meals to hold him over until he could find work. You never were much of a cook, even now you struggle to prepare much of anything, but it’s not without lack of trying.The rundown country home had been your home for a little before the dust bowl and the drought begun since you had moved into it, trying to busy your lonely mind with farm work. You had set the loft in the barn on your sparse and dusty property for him, giving him plenty of blankets and cloth that would make for a functional and maybe comfortable bed. He mentioned a brother who you had seen only briefly every now and again entering the barn before leaving a few minutes later, always snarling. And even though your instinct was shouting at you to question it, you never did.

There was always an objection to the kindness you showed him when you would bring meals, to leave him to the land as that’s all he knew- how he sleeps, to not be kind. But each time he only came back. It was routine until you found a small note etched in charcoal with the words ‘I come back’. And just like that he had vanished as if he had never existed, disappearing and leaving a strange ache in your chest.

You couldn’t tell when the next time we met was as the years turned to decades. People like you had gained a name; ‘mutants’ and they were becoming more and more common around the world. As narcissistic as it sounded, you thought you had been the only one, cursed to roam the Earth for eternity while watching everyone grow old and die around you. You hadn’t expected to run into him, not after 3 decades, and you surely did not expect for him to look just as the day that you last saw him, nor to recognize you.

You sat beside him on the barstool, not speaking until a whisper of your name fell from his lips as if he had figured out the answer to all of the prayers he’d whispered in the dead of the night to an unseen God.. A smile graced your face before you could stop it, turning in the seat to give him your undivided attention.

“You shouldn’t smile at me like that, you know better.” He gruffly spoke.

You didn’t realize how easy it would be to miss someone’s voice until you heard his. It was as if his words were a melody and you had been searching for the right tune all your life. Just the sound of his voice had been enough to cure you of any ailments for the day. You continued to show him the kindness he so desperately wanted to refuse. To offer him a hand and a soul, one that he feels less deserving of. This time was shorter than the last.

A few drinks, some chatting, walking, and a stumbling mess of feverish, open-mouthed kisses as we reached your apartment and found your way to the couch, the floor, and then the bed. He had ruined you, that much you knew from the very first press of his lips against yours, from the whisper of your name in the bar just a few blocks away, or perhaps it was the very first time his shoulder hit yours.

Towards the end of your euphoric highs, you had noticed the extension of bones from between his knuckles as they dug into your mattress and utterly destroying it. It led to a pensive conversation that eased as you revealed your own curse, your lack of morality. He showed off his claws, explaining his own hyper senses and regenerative properties. You admired the bone that extended from the divots between his knuckles, fingers ghosting over the claws. The night morphed into day as you both recounted stories, although you could tell his were vague and lacking details, keeping them for the darker parts of his mind away from the light.

You hadn’t realized him to be an army man before that night, but sure enough he was being shipped out that next day. So the reunion was cut painfully short and you had to wish him farewell from the comfort of your apartment’s sheets, tangled and damp with cold sweat from the previous night.

It was the middle of winter the next time. You moved from place to place as to not raise suspicion on why one of the neighbors never aged, stuck in a younger body than that hasn’t changed in the last few years of where you stayed. You could never forget James, he was always a lingering thought, a distant wish to run into him once again. As the seasons transitioned from to another, that wish slowly fizzled out.

It burned brighter one particular night, when there was a strange howling outside your door. There had been wolves hanging around, but they sounded nothing like this. So, with little fear to your well being, you opened the door.

He looked different, scruffier and wild. There was a metal contraption on his head that wired down to two boxes on either side of hips. The machinery and mechanism was complex as if he were some part of someone’s cruel experiment. There was a snarl sound emanating from his throat, sitting on his haunches. But his state of undress in the dead of winter was not what caught your eye but the sharp metallic ‘shik’ as metal drew from the divots where bone once did. A sharp gasp left your lips as he slowly stood to his full height, eyes locked and unwavering. He sniffed the air like an animal before taking a step forward, his instincts fueling his muddled mind, the movement subconscious.

He had found his way back, but at what cost? What had this poor man endured to become this way? This feral?

As he took a step forward you mirrored in a step backwards, crossing the threshold of your home and he simply followed. His wild eyes darted from corner to corner, sniffing once more and then taking a deep inhale. He visibly eased up, although still had the behavior of a cornered animal. You let him into the warmth of your home, let him wander and orient himself with his surroundings despite your conscious telling you not to.

It took multiple hours of gentle coaxing and many more attempts of snapping from him until you managed to get him to sit and settle down enough to remove the headpiece and electroids from his body, having them fall to the floor with a thud onto the carpeted floor. He just stared, even a whisper of his name had his head cocked to the side like an animal in a state of confusion.

There was dried blood under his nails, hair greasy and filled with mud and- you didn’t think you wanted to know what else it contained. Bathing and feeding him was no easy feat, metal meeting flesh and red decorating the floor; but, you eventually got it done and even had him dressed in sweatpants that were a bit too tight and the cuffs raised to his mid calf. It would have been comical if he wasn’t so out of his wits.

The next few weeks were awkward, each time you tried to leave he would grab your arm and tighten his hold in an attempt to get you to stay, but you needed food and he needed clothes that actually fit him. He still didn’t speak, just low huffs and grunts. When he finally did speak, it was low and broken as if he had forgotten how.

“Lo… gan…”

The words confused you. Why was he saying a stranger’s name?

“Is he the one that did this to you?” You ask softly, swiftly sitting beside him on the couch. You received a shake of his head in return and another mutter of the man’s name.

“I don’t understand.”

He ruffled into his pocket until a small clink of metal emerged and he withdrew dog tags with the name ‘Logan Howlett’ engraved. It was his last name, but the first one made no sense. On the opposite side it read ‘The Wolverine’. Was that his army name? You had heard of getting nicknames when in service but had no real idea about it.

“You’re Logan?” You clarify, eyes moving from the metal within his palm to his own eyes, still wild but tamed for now.

You received a nod from that, signifying you were correct in your assumption. That would make sense why he had never acknowledged me when you had called him James. So, from then on you referred to him as Logan.

You try not to think about the time during which you helped bring him back to a state of humanity, finding out his memories were scattered and he held no recognition in his eyes other than finding the smell of your home, of you, familiar. You cared for him, allowed him a place to stay and took him with you until he suggested a RV bed for an old truck. With the stash of cash you had dwindling, not expecting to care for another person, you hastily agreed. From there you traveled. City to city, province to province, finding cage fighting bars for cash while trying to bring peace to Logan’s mind and retrieve the memories lost or stolen from him.

Finding Rogue was a blessing, even more so when Scott and Ororo had rescued you both. You had been given a home and a lead on Logan’s missing memory and a chance for him to be a part of a team. So, when he was given information on a location that might jog his memory and insisted he would go alone, giving you his dog tags as a promise, you held some worry of course, but knew that he will come back.

[umeji-writes]

Okay, but let's talk about Balam's hair for a hot second

(Yes, it may have become one of my fixations) You know, the guy not only cut it radically - and we know it's because of Iruma - he also let it grow back, and now he grooms it much better than before. Why? While my wishful thinking headcanon is that Kalego offered to brush it after they declared their feelings for each other (they are definitely introduced as best friends, but c'mon, look at them here)

...I also recognize this is not canon, so it can't be the actual reason. So I was wondering: why this difference? IMO it signifies personal growth, but what caused it, if Iruma led to the haircut? And then it hit me. Meeting Iruma, again - but in a deeper way than I thought at first. According to Balam's own words, he decided to cut his hair to appear more approachable. But why not brush it and style it as he's doing now? Everything we know about Balam's past points to him being treated like a weirdo and marginalized, not only because he likes picture books, he was also hyperfixated with the existence of humans.

This went on all his life, from bullies at school to his own students. He was likely wounded, full of self doubt and possibly shame, so he withdrew into himself, and his hair was messy because why bother if people avoid you anyway. So imagine finally having tangible proof that you were right all along. That's life changing, not only because of the discovery itself - it can make you reevaluate your whole story, and yourself. A radical cut was a logical thing to do, to break with the past. But why letting the hair grow back then? I speculate that Balam is most comfortable with long hair after all, and he feels more like himself this way (I mean, he had medium-to-long hair in all flashbacks). I like to think that his personal grooming is a metaphor for his newly found self confidence and self love: he can be himself to the fullest, he likes the demon he is, and he's not afraid of showing it to everyone else now, by making his hair prettier. He was right all along, and everybody else can shut it.

Such a small detail in the grand scheme of things, yet enormous for the single character. I love this manga so much ♡

[0xeff]

A call for help (again).

I'll start with a preface. I hate making these kinds of posts. I know that there are some of you who are getting quite sick of seeing them, and believe me when I say I'm sick of writing them.

This past month, my income has been severely limited due to factors in my employer's life. To the point where I've not made much, and can't afford my portion of the rent. Nor a present for my mother's birthday.

I've attempted other avenues this month for income. I've searched for jobs in my area of expertise, and I've been ghosted and denied at nearly every turn. I've applied for Ontario Works, and got denied due to the fact that I'm living with my mother, who is on Disability and my grandmother, who is on Old Age Pension. I'm appealing this decision, naturally, because I think that it's bullshit. This appeal however, will not go through before my rent is due.

I've put forward an application for ODSP, my province's disability support program. I have a very decent chance of getting accepted eventually, due to my severe ADHD and various symptoms of Autism that impact my daily life, and make it supremely difficult for me to hold down a stable job. I only managed to get my ADHD meds yesterday, I've been off of them for most of this month due to budget constraints. While I'm reasonably sure I'll be accepted, the process is still long and arduous.

I'm a very private person, as many of you may already know. I don't like talking about what's going on in my life even among many of my close friends. I struggle a lot to write these words now, asking for help time and time again. I know it will get better, and I have to hold on to that hope that it will, but I do need support. I want to be able to repay the kindness of this community. I want to be able to do what I am passionate about, and that's making cool things for all of you, who've been such an important and positive part of my life. This community is, well and truly, my hyperfixation.

If you can at all spare something, or share my plight to those who can, I would appreciate it greatly. I always do, and the support you've all given me so far has been nothing short of life-changing. I'm trying my hardest to do right by all of you, despite my issues.

In other news, dev stream later today (On the MxRP Official Discord Server). I don't know an exact time yet, or what specifically I'll be working on, but I'll definitely be doing something.

[pinksugarscrub]

Guts

Hobie Brown x fem! spider! reader

Event by @the-kr8tor and banners by @the-shroom-garden

Thank you @hyperfix-wip! (beta reader) you know how excited I was to finally finish

Can you tell I like Olivia Rodrigo yet? Thanks to my little brother for forcing having me to listen to her music 💜

word count: 1,770

parts: 1, 2

cw: cursing, suggestive comment from Peter, and simping

~

Tap, tap, tap

Tap, tap, tap

“Oi mate-” Hobie’s foot tapping falters as he turns around.

“You look bloody fit,” Ned groans. Draped over the edge of Hobie’s bed bored out of his mind. “Will you get out of here? You’ve only got ten minutes.”

Hobie’s shoulders sink as he glances at himself in the mirror again. His fingers running over the leather of his jacket. A plush lining to keep him warm after your persistent warnings about New York Autumn.

“Oh mate…” Ned’s expression falters as he turns to lay on his stomach. “You’re really worried about this.”

Hobie swallows as he tears his gaze away from his reflection. “No shit.”

Now Hobie knows tonight is nothing more than a casual dinner. It really isn’t anything special. Just pie and more pie and oh wait, more pie. But it’s also the first time he’ll meet your family and the encounter feels more like an indoctrination than an introduction.

He wants to make a good impression and when did he become the kind of person to care about impressions? It’s just that these people care about you and you care about them ten fold. If he fucks it up with them will he even have a chance with you? 

Hobie can see you smile in the back of his mind. He doesn’t feel good enough for you but he also doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. Doesn’t that sound egregious.

He wants to hear you sing. He really does and he’s somewhat terrified the moment he does he’s going to fall deeper in love with you. 

He really wants to be there for every wonderful moment the way you’ve been there for him. There isn’t a show you’ve missed or a song you haven’t listened to that he’s recommended. Hobie wants to be by your side and the feeling is as suffocating as it is satisfying. He didn’t even know you played until he caught you fiddling with his guitar. 

Is it weird he wants to hold you in his lap while you strum a few chords? Sing to him like his own personal songbird.

Damn he was whipped.

“Listen, Hobs.” Ned’s hand clasps his shoulder. He softens his voice too to a tone only reserved for moments much like this one. “You’ve got to trust her.”

Trust her? With what? His unyielding affection and admiration.

“If it’s meant to be it’ll work out.” Ned bites his tongue. Unsure if he’s said the right or the wrong thing. 

Hobie sighs and finally turns to Ned. A half hearted smile on his lips as he pats his hand. “I know but…”

“Doesn’t make waiting any less shitty?” Ned replies. A weak laugh escaped him. 

“Yeah,” Hobie chuckles. Wrapping his arms around Ned and becoming dead weight. 

“Want me to go with you?” Ned shifts Hobie in his arms to keep the two of them from collapsing. 

“Nah, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.” 

“You’re not asking, I'm telling.”

Their flat goes quiet and Ned knows Hobie is seriously debating the idea so without much thought he drags him along on his way to his room next door. 

“Is it a shithole? Because I don’t want to lose my good chucks.” 

“It’s a good part of town,” Hobie mumbles. Face hot as his nerves finally seem to settle. “Thanks Neddy.”

“Shut up and get off,” Ned huffs. Snatching his favorite jumper and searching for a pair of jeans. 

“Really mate-” Hobie slowly grins as Ned shoves him off. It deters him none as he makes obnoxious kissing noises. “You’re the best.”

“Bloody back off!” Ned chokes on a laugh. “These lips aren’t for you, you little shit.”

“Promise I’ll make it up to your date.”

“I don’t want you anywhere near Riri.”

Ned cringes as soon as the words leave his lips. Well, fuck.

“Riri!?” 

-

The venue is loud. Not burst your eardrums loud which Ned agrees with, but definitely loud. 

“Are you sure we’re in the right place mate?” Ned scans the room before shrugging. “Looks like a regular old pub to me.”

“It’s a different kind of show.”

“Really? Different how?”

Hobie doesn’t know. You were so nervous when you asked him to your show he couldn’t bring himself to pull it out of you.

“Guess we’ll have to find out-”

A quiet buzz forms from the back of his neck down his spine. Subtly he turns his head. 

“I’m too old for this.”

“Oh please, we’re in our late twenties.”

“Early thirties,” someone else corrects.

They look familiar but he can’t quite place them until one person from the group catches his eye. It’s your MJ.

“Oh, hey! I’d recognize you anywhere.” She grins as she leaves behind who he now knows to be Peter Parker and Harry Osborn. “You must be Hobie.”

 Hobie’s hands suddenly feel sweaty. “Yeah, pleasure to meet you miss.”

Ned looks over at him flabbergasted but doesn’t say a word. Only makes a twirling motion with his finger and silently mouths ‘whipped’.

Hobie glares, prepared to give him the greatest beat down of the century until Peter and Harry finally seem to catch up. Then he’s all smiles and polite laughter.

“Babe you totally ditched us b— woah, hello sailor.”

MJ sighs while pinching the bridge of her nose. Way to make a good impression, she thinks.

Peter leans in close to her ear. “I see the appeal.”

“We…we can still hear you,” Ned interjects. Perplexed as he turns to Hobie. “They do know that right?”

“Hey, Hobie right?” Harry smiles. Pushing past Peter with a much softer tone to his voice. “Our girl has told us so much about you. You must be…?”

“Ned, Leeds.” Now Ned feels like quaking in his boots and he’s not even the one needing moral support.

“Ned, ah, I’m glad you could make it.” He nods toward the stage. “Should be starting any minute. Mind if we join you?”

Hobie yelps before nodding and letting out a hurried, “yes of course.”

“Great.”

Hobie thinks Harry’s turned away for his benefit. He takes the opportunity and rubs his side. 

“Did you really have to hit me that hard?” He hisses.

“Nah, I just enjoy torturing you.”

“You little-”

“So, are you two excited?” MJ chirps back in. “You’re the first friend I think she’s ever invited to one of her shows.”

That gives Hobie pause. “How come?”

“Oh well she’s always kept to herself. Society's been good for her. I trust you’re looking out?” 

Hobie nods, “I’m taking care of her, I promise.”

MJ smiles and nods in return. “Good.”

“Looks like it’s just us.” Peter wraps his arm around MJ’s shoulder. Eyes on his phone. “Junior just texted her other friends will meet us at F.E.A.S.T. after the show.”

“So it’s just Hobs she invited?” Ned asks. Not even hiding his cheshire grin.

Peter immediately matches his energy. A cheeky grin on his lips. “Just him.”

The butterflies in Hobie’s stomach grow worse. So much worse. Then the lights shut off and cheers erupt.

To be completely frank, Hobie doesn’t pay a lick of attention to the bands on stage. He’s just waiting for a glimpse of you. 

Time doesn’t feel fast enough but when he hears your voice, he wishes he could stop it.

“Is everyone enjoying the show!” 

The cheers grow even louder and your laugh, god his heart tightens in his chest.

“Wonderful! Well, I have the honor of closing tonight so I’m pleased to introduce The Mary Janes!”

Goosebumps break out on his skin the moment the guitar riff echoes into the area. It’s the exhilarating feeling he gets from playing with Ned and the others. Listening to music with you in your car, talking nonsense all at once.

Driving on the right-side road

He says I’m pretty wearin’ his clothes

And he’s got hands that-

Wait, was this song about him?

Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote

I wish I wrote

Please be about him.

And he laughs at all my jokes

And he says I'm so American

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him

To make me feel this much

His heart skips a beat when you lock eyes with him. There’s a slight falter in your voice but you push through. Smiling at him as sweat builds up on your skin.

I'd go anywhere he goes

And he says I'm so American

Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him

If he keeps this shit up

I might just be in love

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude

Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you

The way you dress, and the books you read

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me

When he's with me

Yeah, he’s kissing you tonight

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon

But if the conversation ever were to come up

I don't wanna assume this stuff

But ain't it love?

I think I'm in love

Shit he wants to kiss you now.

The final chords ring out and the screams have been loudest out of the whole night. 

As soon as you’re out of sight he looks to Ned and Ned laughs. With a shove he points his best friend into the direction he’s sure the backstage is in.

“Go get em’ tiger!” MJ yells.

“Please keep the tongue to a minimum!” Peter cries.

The pounding of his heart and the smack of his boots on the floor are all he can hear. Skidding to a stop he slips through a door with a taped over sign.

He spouts apologies and jumps over drum kits until he barrels into you or, you barrel into him. You’ve really got to watch where you’re going.

“Hobie-!” You feel dizzy after the clumsy collision of limbs. “What are you doing back here?”

“Was that for me?” He asks out of breath.

You blink as you finally register his presence. A shy smile makes its way onto your face. 

“If it was?”

“If it was?” He laughs. “You’re such a cheeky little thing.”

“Hey! I’m-”

The words die on your tongue as he crashes his lips onto yours. His hands moving from your shoulders to your face. Gently caressing the skin there.

“Yeah.” You answer when you part. Dizzy for a whole different reason. “It was for you.”

Hobie laughs again.

“Well what are you waiting for?” You sigh. “Kiss me again.”

So he does.

I had so much fun participating and hope we can continue to have this mass collaboration moving forward. You all did wonderfully and if I haven't gotten to your work I hope to do so soon. Well done everyone! 🫶

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’M STUCK ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. I’M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN EARTH.

Tap photo for better quality

That’s right!! I’m talking even more about sinner bodies because I’m CRAZY!!! RAAHHH!! 🤪 SHES SO CRAZY WE CANT TAKE HER ANYWHERE!! 😝 it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t stop thinking about this goddamn TV.

I think Vox is genuinely the most fucked up character in this rewrite currently. Not really morally fucked up, there’s definitely worse people, but physical alterations in hell out of the main cast he definitely has it the worst. In my last post I talked about how Angel formed in hell and I want to go back to this because Vox did not form in hell as a TV or even a robot at all. He got formed on the road after dying in a car crash and was literally just this fucked up clump of wires and metal panels and had gross little robot hands and he had to make everything else himself and wait for his body to adjust to it, so he literally cannot regenerate normally. He didn’t even have a face yet or screen of any kind, just a little camera to see out of. If his screen shatters he needs to get a new one or if his body breaks he needs to get it repaired, thats why he’s able to upgrade his body and stuff.

And like yeah some tech sinners do just form as robots but Vox just is a fucking mess and I think about it all the time and thats why his demon form is all fucked up like that and I think thats partially another reason he hates Alastor’s ideals so much sometimes because hes like “technology bad!” even though he literally is also partially a tech sinner and hes just stupid but like without technological advancements Vox literally would have nothing like they wouldn’t’ve met, Vox would not have a company, etc, etc and thatd probably help a lot of people yeah like the Vees would not fucking exist but ignoring that, just on a personal relationship scale I imagine your “friend” being like “man I really hate the thing that gives you life and allows you to live a somewhat normal existence” hurts a bit.

Technological regeneration is a bit more confusing and hard to explain than biological regeneration since machinery can’t really “heal” in real life. The concept sounds almost bewildering, like you can’t cut a wire and have it slowly heal like skin would, you’d need a whole new wire. But Vox internally, the things that allow him to move and live how he does now, it’s the only part of him that he can heal, and to him, it’s still “defective”.

Vox is disabled mentally and physically; he has Autism, ADHD, and epilepsy, all of which he is unable to be medicated for due to his new body. These are all things that he hates to acknowledge and will become irrationally upset by if they are mentioned to the point he will actively to deny certain aspects of disability. Being a man from the 1900’s-1950’s his views on mental disabilities and mental illnesses are… less than uh.. “acceptable” for today’s standards. He often disregards slurs towards this being called slurs and insists that “They used to just be words” or “It’s a medical diagnosis.” yet still gets incredibly upset when he is ever called a slur that actually could apply to him. In a way he tries to come off as purposely ableist so that he doesn’t have to confront this aspect of himself that he doesn’t understand. His knowledge in technology or sharks or economics aren’t “special interests” to him, they’re just “regular things a man likes”. He can’t process what a hyperfixation is. He doesn’t know that it’s normal for him to be unable to speak on occasion or that certain textures make him severely uncomfortable. These are either seen as weaknesses or “average people things”. Aside from how terribly disabled people were treated back around the 50’s, he views the neurodiverse aspect of his mind as something that only serves to further push him from grasping the feeling of regular humanity again.

For physical disabilities, he doesn’t lie or deny that he has epilepsy, yes he has an intense disdain for mentioning it, but for very few people he is close with he will disclose this information to them privately. There are a very select few people that are aware of this and two of those people are Velvette and Alastor. This post isn’t really about diving into Vox’s epilepsy so I’m keeping this concise because I have another post to put all of that in. Hope you all enjoy the wacky art :)

The binary says “Trust us” for anyone curious

[littlejuicebox]

Little Lockpick.

Okay this is the last addition for the weekend.

My ADHD hyperfixated on Dadstarion and now I need to focus on my big girl life and job for the week.

Definitely didn’t mean to go this crazy on the writing but hey, when inspiration strikes. 🤷‍♀️

I really need to update these headers at some point. Problems for future Gina.

Summary: Toddler Gale has developed new magic skills and wants Papastarion to open a lock NOW. Right now. Tav has some interesting news after an appointment.

Tags/Warnings: kids, babies, parenthood, fluff, idk what else?

*

Astarion is in his office, trying to work, which is almost impossible with Gale sitting on his lap. The toddler is fiddling with something in his small hands as his father reads over a scroll for the second time, trying to focus on the words. It’s become increasingly difficult to do so as frustrated huffs and grunts escape the almost-three-year-old.

“Daddy! Help!” Gale exclaims, pulling Astarion’s attention from the scroll and down to the little silver-haired boy. The toddler is shaking what’s in his hand up at his father, nose crinkled in displeasure.

“Hmm…” The elf murmurs, taking the little toy — if you could call it that — from his son. It’s a small padlock. The toddler had been trying, quite incessantly, to open it for nearly half an hour. It was enough to keep Gale pre-occupied while his mother went to her appointment, but now the toddler is getting frustrated and his father knows there will soon be a melt down if the issue isn’t remedied.

“Little prince, where did you find this?” Astarion asks while handing the tiny metal lock back to Gale. The silver-haired boy climbs off his father’s lap. Uncoordinated legs take him over to the bookshelf along the office wall, and he points to the bottom shelf.

“Found here! Right here.” The toddler babbles, crinkling his white eyebrows at his father, wondering why the older man is asking him such a silly question. Gale is growing more impatient, upset that Astarion simply isn’t doing what he asked and opening the lock. But no, daddy insists on asking him these questions instead, “Why daddy? Why? Open it!”

Tiny fingers grip the loop of the lock again, trying and failing to release the mechanism with sheer force. The child’s two little arms aren’t strong enough to pry open the lock. Gale is growing more and more frustrated. Red patches flush across his cheeks as he grunts, compelling Astarion to move from his chair and crouch in front of the toddler, intending to placate him.

“We need a key to open the lock, Gale. I was hoping there would be one near where you found the lock but I don’t think—“ The elf starts, but he’s cut off by a high pitched wail escaping his son.

“OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!”

The little boy is throwing himself on the ground now, still gripping the offending toy. Fat, frustrated tears are falling from his gorgeous green eyes. He’s practically the spitting image of his father, and even in his tantrums he is a beautiful, adorable thing. But Astarion begins to panic, knowing Gale needs to calm down, he needs to calm down before—

The toddler shrieks at the top of his lungs and a powerful gust of wind comes from nowhere, knocking Astarion onto his back and sending a flurry of papers shooting off the desk.

It’s ironic, Astarion thinks, that his son is named Gale and the first spell he can unintentionally cast is a gust of wind whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. The elf is groaning in pain as his eyes clamp shut; he is trying desperately to regain his composure before he addresses the toddler. These terrible twos have been… well, terrible. Astarion’s patience is running thin.

He remembers his wife’s coaching. Deep breath in, long exhale out. The poor little prince doesn’t know any better.

The wind scares Gale into silence. He doesn’t yet understand his powers, and when he sees his father knocked prone on the floor, he starts crying again. They’re sticky, snot-filled, guilty tears, this time. He doesn’t understand how he conjures the wind, but he does know that the damage is his fault. Despite his current tantrum, Gale is an overall empathetic and sensitive boy, and the vision of the damage he’s done worries him.

“Sorry, daddy!” The toddler gasps through choked cries, sitting himself up and bunching his hands in tight, worried fists which he brings to the sides of his face, “I a bad boy!”

Astarion rolls himself up to a sitting position and scoops the child into his arms with a belabored sigh, “You’re not a bad boy, Gale.”

He soothes the child in a soft coo as he rubs small circles on the little boy’s back. Gale’s small body continues to wrack with sobs as his father places a kiss on his crown of silvery curls and whispers, “You’re just an exceptionally powerful one. But you get that from your mother, little prince.”

The elf stands, taking his son with him in the process as he walks out of the office, headed towards the bedchambers and still rubbing the little boy’s back as the toddler begins to calm down.

The papers will just have to be cleaned up later.

*

“Again, again, daddy!”

When you find your husband and child, they are both laying atop your bed, facing away from the door. Gale is giggling incessantly and clapping his hands together, asking his father to repeat something.

“There you two are. What are you doing?” You ask as you enter the room, one hand on your stomach. You’ve just come from an appointment with Jaheira.

The two men turn their heads and grin at you practically in unison. It makes you chuckle. It’s truly startling, how similar they are from their looks to their mannerisms. You catch sight of Astarion’s old lockpicking kit between the two of them, and your eyebrow cocks curiously.

“Are you really showing our toddler how to pick locks, Astarion?” You ask as you make your way to sit on the bed with the rest of your little family.

“Yes. But it’s a bit of a story, love. I’ll fill you in on the details later.” Your husband responds, handing the padlock and one of the tools to Gale, where he attempts to mimic the previous motions of his father. His tiny tongue sticks out as he focuses.

Astarion moves to kiss your cheek and then lightly brushes his fingers against your abdomen, subtly greeting the growing life inside, “How did the appointment go?”

“Good…” You murmur in a long, drawled out way. By your tone and the large grin spreading across your face, your husband can tell something is up.

His eyebrow cocks as he assesses your face, trying to decipher the thoughts behind your eyes. Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t bad news, and the knot in his stomach he’d constantly carried prior to this preliminary check-up is starting to finally subside as he analyzes you.

It took a long time to conceive this round; you two had nearly given up. When you finally missed your moonblood, both of you were waiting with bated breath for the first month. This experience was a sharp contrast to Gale’s conception, which happened easily, by accident and without much thought. Both of you had been emotional, nervous wrecks up until now.

“What is it, darling?” Your husband asks, smiling despite himself, simply matching your energy.

“Jaheira is almost certain it’s twins, Astarion.” You respond, and then you’re laughing as you watch your husband’s face turn from shocked to excited to worried to overwhelmed all in the span of a few seconds.

“Twins?” He asks, dumbly, trying to process the new information. A hand comes to rake through his curls as he exhales through the shock, “Love, we might need to hire some more help, I know you said you didn’t want to, but—“

“Yes, I was thinking the same. Especially if they’re also going to show Gale’s same penchant for spells.” You agree, and at the mention of your son’s name he perks up and grins at you, proudly showing you the lock, “Speaking of which…”

You reach into your robe pocket and retrieve a small beaded necklace before patting your lap, and beckoning to your son, “Come here to me, my little love.”

Gale obliges happily, crawling over to settle in your lap. You kiss the crown of his head and then clasp the small necklace onto the toddler. Astarion is watching you curiously, his head tilts to the side as he brings his hand to grasp the necklace and examine it. The toddler sure does love that lock, he’s barely acknowledging either of you as you speak around him.

“It’s a dampener,” You explain, “I was telling Jaheira about the recent development. She gave me this. It won’t completely take away Gale’s powers… but it should help to reduce the strength of his spells until he learns to control them himself.”

Astarion nods with a relieved sigh, “Good. If I’m being honest, darling, I was worried he might accidentally hurt you.”

You nod knowingly and then groan as your stomach begins to growl. The appointment took a bit longer than you thought; it’s past your usual lunch time. You begin to stand, pulling the toddler in your arms with you as you say, “Now how about lunch in the sunroom? I’m starving.”

Astarion hums in agreement, “Go on, my love. I’ll grab the food and join you two in just a moment.”

You nod and carry Gale out, singing softly to the little boy as you head to the sunroom, leaving Astarion to gather his own thoughts for a moment.

The elf throws himself back on the bed with a groan, running his hand through his curls once again. Twins.

Twice the joy. Twice the work.

Astarion cannot help but to laugh, and then smile, even though he knows the next few years are going to be hectic. Perhaps more hectic than he’d imagined. Before long he’s rolling off the bed and headed to the kitchen, planning to prepare a platter of sandwiches and tea for himself and his two — four — little loves.