#may be a bit long whoopsies

[lovelyarchive]

platonic selfship ask game ¡

we all need to give some thought to our fictional besties sometimes ... questions can be directed at s/i's or f/o's ¡¡

[ 💢 ] — did you two get along right away , or did you have to work through some difficulties at first ¿

[ ⏰ ] — how long have you known each other ¿

[ 🍊 ] — what would they say your favorite snack is and vice versa ¿ do you surprise each other with comfort foods often ¿

[ 🧸 ] — what's the best way to cheer them up ¿

[ 🌻 ] — who is more introverted and who is the extrovert ¿

[ 💫 ] — do you have a crush on someone that they know about ¿ do they approve of the person ¿ would they rather offer genuine advice on how to pursue them or just tease you about it ¿

[ 👽 ] — how are they at co-op games ¿ are you both equally good or does one have to carry the other ¿

[ 🍾 ] — what's your favorite way to celebrate some big occasion ¿ are you guys the type to plan ahead or do you just do whatever you feel like ¿

[ 🫂 ] — have you ever met their parents/caretaker(s) ¿ how did it go ¿ do you think you've made/would make a good impression ¿

[ 🌐 ] — do you text each other often , or is there no need because you live in close proximity ¿ do they send you random posts that remind them of you or spam your messages just to be a menace ¿

[ 🧢 ] — what's the height difference between you two ¿

[ 🧿 ] — have you ever made kandis / friendship bracelets for each other ¿ do y'all wear any matching accessories in general ¿

[ 🌂 ] — do you share your stuff often (clothes , tools , food , etc.) ¿ do they grumble about it but begrudgingly agree or is it second nature to them at this point ¿

[ 🪀 ] — how are y'all at parallel play ¿ what's a hobby of yours that both of you like to dabble into ¿

[ 🧼 ] — who's more tidy and collected ¿

[ 🎀 ] — do you help each other out with picking outfits ¿ is your fashion sense similar or does it clash with theirs ¿

[ 🛼 ] — do you do any sports ¿ if so , have they been to your performances or big rehearsals to show support ¿

[ 💭 ] — alright enough wholesomeness , embarrass them NOW . tell a silly fact about them , or maybe even a funny story .

[ 💣 ] — is there something either of you does usually to annoy the other on purpose ¿

[ 🐈‍⬛ ] — what about pets ¿ who's the owner , what kind , have you met the critter(s) , do they like you ¿

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Several therapeutic white boards were drawn on. Everyone reading was so good and normal about it. So were the characters, presumably.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Additionally: apologies to Adwen and Allmune on ao3, to whom I directly said I wouldn't do this; I lied. (Whoopsie).

Also additionally: Bonus fic snippet you may have missed

💚👻👽👻💚

“Are you hungry?” Danny’s new therapist asks, her fingers playing with her pen.

Danny shrugs.

Pretty quickly, they’d figured out that these sessions went…worse…when Danny was hungry. Hunger makes him upset. Being upset makes him want to speak less. Not talking ruins the whole affair.

“Want to talk?”

Danny shakes his head, and sprawls out onto the couch—he’s allowed to basically position himself however he feels comfortable in the room, and if he has a choice, he’d rather just hang out horizontal. Does it make getting back into his chair harder? Yes. Is there a lady with super strength right outside his the office door who is willing to pick him up at a moment’s notice? Also yes.

(It’s kind of silly, but, if his legs ever stop feeling so sore…Danny is. Well.)

(He’s kind of curious how tall he’d be if Diana held him piggyback.)

“Want to draw? Paint?”

Drawing is a high-stress activity. Danny tends to default to memories when he draws these days, and he’d rather not think about that right now. Finger-painting is another option, but it’s pretty messy…even if it would be fun…

Danny’s therapist (?) (he's pretty sure that’s what she is?) is a blonde woman, with a quiet face and piercing eyes. She’d probably be less intimidating if they knew each other’s language, if Danny’s being honest; usually these types of people try to talk their way out of being intimidating. Instead, Danny sits on her pinstripe couch in unbranded sweatpants and a thin white tee, and she wears a suitjacket over her tights.

It’s all very strange. It’s not more strange than his chaperone’s usual outfit of plate armor and tiara, but still.

“Want the language bócastréon again?”

…Danny hums in thought, hands crossed across his chest. He’s pretty sure they’ve tried building a thing that’ll detect his language, like, three different times by now, but every time it winds up like the Fenton Ghost Gabber: mindlessly repeating his words back to him, unable to make heads or tails on translation. At least these trials don’t end every one of his statements with I am a ghost, fear me.

Oh well. It’s better than nothing. Danny shrugs.

The therapist clicks the machine on from a switchpad at her elbow, and a blue holographic screen fills the air. Danny only spends a little bit of time batting at the display like a cat, watching the light play off his hands for his own amusement.

“Please begin,” the thing says, and the same text pops up on the screen.

“S’up,” Danny tells it, and grins when the little display starts its very, very, long, and very, very familiar, buffering process.

Danny already knows this isn’t going to work. He might as well have fun with it.

He talks about his day, he talks about his old bedroom; he talks about what he had for lunch, toying with one of the sucker-toys he woke up with ages ago even though he doesn’t know who gave them to him. He talks about his friends, because he loves them—not Tuck and Sam, who he’ll miss the rest of his life, but Mikey and Poindexter, and what school had been like for him. Quiet topics. Easy topics.

Normal topics.

…Danny isn’t’ sure he’ll ever have normalcy again, but…remembering it isn’t so bad either. He plays with his weird suction cup toy with both hands and he talks.

“…So I ended up getting stuck without the Speeder like a million zillion miles from the portal. I thought Jazz was going to kill me, since she needed it to take her girlfriend to prom the literal next night, so I had to run around for like forty minutes looking for someone to help me out— but at least Wulf was like ‘Ne estas problemo’ and he helped me sniff out the weird cheese Vlad had left in the center console of the Speeder the week before—“

The box beeps. “Lingvo identigita: Kryptonian.”

Danny bolts upright as fast as his limbs let him.

Danny was never as good as Tucker was with Esperanto, but—  But that’s Esperanto. Danny’s hung out with Wulf long enough, did enough Duodioma with the stupid little muppet bird mascot. The box didn’t call it the right thing, but—

—But—

The therapist looks at Danny, eyes wide. Danny can’t even look at her. He’s too busy staring at the discount-aisle Ghost Gabber.

“Diru ĝin denove,” Danny demands sharply. Say it again.

The screen automatically translates his words as he speaks—in Esperanto, and then into their own language, the two transcriptions populating side by side when Danny speaks.

At this point, the woman’s mouth is open. Danny would be right there with her, but—

Danny sits there, numb.

He has a language. A language that is mostly guesswork on his part and the occasional swears Wulf will teach him as a joke, but, still, a language.

A language made up by a doctor in Poland. In the eighteen…somethings. And these people with superpowers know it. And they know what it is.

And the therapist looks at him, stunned, with new eyes, as if she knows something new about him now.

…What the hell is Kryptonian?

*

There isn’t Kryptonian plural. Danny thought there there might be.

There isn’t.There is pretty much only one.

One. Singular. Kryptonian.

That feels worse, somehow.

*

Notes taken [DATE REDACTED] 2023, 22:37 UTC.

Participants are:

KE: Kal-El of Krypton, Codename: Superman. JD: Patient, John Doe, Codename: N/A. Patient file attached.

Note: Conversation was recorded in Kryptonian. Machine translation has been provided for convenience.

*Addendum: Yeah, I can get Jor-El on this, no problem –Supes

KE: This conversation will be recorded. Are you alright with that? JD: Conver…? KE: (Writing gesture) This talk. JD: Oh! Yes. KE: Good morning. My name is Kal-El, and I am of Kryptonian descent. On Earth, I serve as a protector. My title on Earth is Superman. JD: Superman? KE: Yes. JD: (Laugh) KE: Thank you. May I know your name? JD: (No answer) KE: Take your time. You may decline as well. JD: …I… (Pause). I do not… KE: That is alright. Do you have hobbies? JD: …What? KE: What do you like to do? JD: …I like to learn about space. I like to…when the fast child…we play games? KE: The fast kid? Impulse? JD: Impulse? (Incredulous) KE: That is his title, yes. JD: Why is his name Impulse? That is… Is that an insult? KE: I think he chose it? JD: (Stunned silence) KE: You like space? JD: Y…yes. KE: Tell me about it? JD: Do they not tell you about me? KE: I hear news. I have not met you face to face. JD: (Shrugs) KE: Not since you bit me, anyway? JD: I bit you? (Incredulous) KE: You were injured, and you were scared. I did not mind. JD: I am sorry! It was an accident! (Upset) I did not mean to! I do not remember— KE: It is alright, it is alright! (Placating) JD: (Cries) KE: Hey… (Touches shoulder) Oh, sorry. I should not do that. It is alright. My dog bit me yesterday, and my son bit me the day before. It is alright. You did not hurt me. JD: (Still crying, hard to decipher) You have a dog? KE: Yes! I have a dog! He is also from space. His name is Krypto. Here, I have pictures! (Takes out communicator)

*NOTE: pictures mentioned contain images of Superdog and Superboy(II)

JD: (Still crying) Are you supposed to ask me questions?? I have been here… I have been here for a long time. People want to know about what I am, and where am I from, and what I can do, yes? KE: Well…yes, but there is a lot of time. There is no limit. JD: (Wipes nose.) KE: All I am supposed to ask you today is if you have any allergies. See?

        *NOTE: List of potential allergens has been attached to patient file.

JD: (Takes list from KE) Allergi…? Oh. No. I am… No food makes me sick. I can eat all foods. I cannot take…there is a sick medicine. For a cough. I cannot take that. KE: Good to know! (Alarmed) I’ll tell your doctors. Do you like your doctors? JD: …Yes. (Shyly) They are nice. KE: Wonder Woman says that she already asked if you feel safe. Do you feel safe with your doctors? JD: I do. Everyone here is kind. I eat a lot. I get exercise. We play games. I take breaks. I see space. I do not worry here, unless I get scared by accident. KE: I am…very glad to hear that. (Chokes up.) My son is about half your height. If my son was far away, I would want someone to help him too. We only want to do our best for you, alright? Please tell us if something is wrong. JD: So I can fight? KE: Pardon? JD: I am meant to fight, right? KE: No, no—not fighting. Just healing. And resting. JD: And then after… I am supposed to fight? KE: No. No, not—you don’t have to fight. The only thing we need is for you to be healthy. We don’t need you to fight anyone. JD: Everyone wants me to fight. (Begins stimming with slime) There are many children here. They all fight. I am eventually going to have to fight. I know.

*NOTE: Slime was provided by Medical team for therapeutic use.

KE: (Pause) Who is everyone? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone make you fight, before? Is that why you were injured? JD: (Silence) KE: I am sorry if they did. That is not fair. You are not an adult yet, and even adults should not have to fight unless they enlist purposefully. You are a child. JD: No one thinks I am a child. KE: Who said that? JD: (Silence) KE: Did someone hurt you? JD: (Pause) I do not want to talk. KE: Alright. Can you tell me why you do not want to talk? JD: (Silence) KE: Would you like to fight? JD: I am good at fighting. KE: That is not what I asked. JD: There is no choice? When there are bad things and bad people, someone has to fight. I am strong—when I am not injured, I am strong. I fight. There are people who are not strong, and cannot fight. I can fight. I fight. KE: (Silence) JD: This is why you are healing me. KE: (Pause) No, little one. That is not why. JD: (Pause) Oh. (Puts down slime) Am I…am I going to be data again? Are you going to test my body? KE: (Puts face into hands)

[PAGE 1 OF 4]

[Interview is to be reviewed by Black Canary and Dr. Pranathi Russo MD, Pediatric Psychologist.]

*

“It’s bad!” Clark says with a watery smile, because Clark isn’t Superman at the moment—in Bruce’s home office, as private as a place as the world can get, Bruce is only Bruce, and Clark is only Clark.

When Black Canary had suggested that their debrief happen somewhere private where Clark felt safe, Bruce had known that there would be bad news. Still, he pours a mug of coffee that Clark will metabolize all the caffeine out of anyway, and pours a long, thick cup of the stuff for himself, and settles back into his warm leather chair.

“Tell me,” Bruce says, not quite Batman, but not quite Bruce either.

“Bruce, he ‘knows’ we’re going to make him fight. He thinks we’re healing him to be a child soldier.” Clark’s laugh is half joke and half derision. Bruce thinks that he understands. “He thinks we’re keeping him here as—like property, where if we pick up something dumped on the side of the road, we can fix it back up and put it to work. Like an engine, or, or…or like a lawnmower. It’s awful.”

Bruce skips the creamer and goes straight to the Baileys beneath his desk for garnishing.

On the one hand, Dick has been flying out in Gotham since he was a preteen. There had been no question about training him; training was the way one kept their children safe, the same way that Alfred had taught Bruce how to shoot as a child—no matter how much Bruce had loathed it at the time.

On the other hand, Jason’s death plays out in his nightmares in technicolor around…once every few months.

The fires. The flames.

(The alien boy found in a wrecked vehicle outside the Kent farmhouse, curled up in fear.)

Bruce thinks about Damian, and how long it had taken for Damian to understand he could be loved as a child who loved animals, and not a future prince of Gotham.

…Bruce passes the Baileys to Clark.

The Kryptonian won’t absorb any of the alcohol in any meaningful way, but he dumps the remainder of the bottle into his coffee nevertheless.

[imjustdelusionalok]

yandere!dc: goddess! darling

ⁱⁿᶠᵒ ᵃᵇᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃʳˡⁱⁿᵍ۫ ꣑ৎ

darling is a god from another world who just so happens to immigrate into the dc universe after a very long time of probably embodying... well, everything.

firstly having to live for love as a human, and then ending it all to fight for the beauty of life as god.

she is the reason for existence, from the big to the miniscule.

(so basically op goddess reader who has wayyyy too much power in their hands-- ex: nothing can kill them, nothing can put an end to them, etc--)

the least you could do is seal away her powers, but even that would truly not be enough because your only sealing away 0.000000000000001%. (i mean that 💀)

*cough* anyway... aside from goddess reader backstory, lets go to the inspiration <33

she's a mix of Madokami from Puella Magi, HoF Kiana Kaslana from Honkai Impact, and mostly of Ishtar Ashtart/Space Ishtar from Fate Grand Order <3

originally kind and lighthearted after becoming 'God', but as time passes and stars dimmed, she has become... well... neutral. not good, but DEFINITELY not bad. like this!

"let me help you :)" to "...From the dawn of creation. Man has come from the ground not by his hand but mine. go back to the land and return to dust."

summary: lawful, void, alien... yet beautiful, destructive, human.

sooooo. yup.

:p

ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ۫ ꣑ৎ

...she has met the justice league before. because, who in their right minds would ignore the giant falling 'star' that came out of a very visible tear in the sky caused by said celestial body???

dramatically crashing down the surface like a meteorite, you lowkey may have destroyed a 'few' buildings... whoopsies :p

they are surprised. this... girl, no- alien, exudes endless quantity of power, leaking from every blurred pore. it also seems like they might be power themselves...

batman goes bazingas at the amount of destruction caused by your fall leading to an airheaded you getting towed to the JL headquarters and any sort of refusal or fighting back is unallowed. (even tho your more than capable of destroying anything AND everything you still oblige)

though cool as ice, you are so confused deep down. head tilted, vacant expression, the usual from the emotionally detached goddess albeit with a little change. 'what are these humans talking about?' you think, 'what threat?' you think again, unaware that you are the threat being spoken of.

the white slits of the vigilante's mask narrows at your disposition. everything about you seems... off. from your oppressing aura, to the... heavenly allure your blankness brings.

"more alien than the actual alien," a familiar scarlet speedster jokes, in an attempt to lighten the heavy mood. (he failed horribly btw) said alien rolls their eyes and sighs. though he has to admit, you lowkey look kind of cute... but he stops, remembering lois.

once you say your side of the story, they go all shocked pikachu faces again. your a god from another seperate world??? i mean dont get them wrong though, they had their fair share of situations like these, as some dc villains and heroes they know arent even from here originally. but they cant help but feel a bit different about you, something about you makes their soul writhe... and its not in a bad way.

so once B confirms your not a threat despite your extreme potential to act like one, everybody is relieved. you just need a littleeeeeee supervision, thats all :3

and oh look at that, your actually not that bad. your cold demeanor fades once they got to know you, and that void in your eyes is filled with a light comparable to the twilight star's soothing glow— pure, tranquil, and ever so mystifying.

every step you take, life seems to exist and flourish all around you. life heals around you. not only that, but also... them. the dead part of them actually, that died from complications now too complicated to be retold and remembered.

you fill the void they never knew they had, and all their aching scars were no longer painful but tolerable. bearable even, and its all because of you.

at this point, everybody knows how this all plays out. this ordinary tune, twisted into a fanatic's song.

their once innocent admiration has now spoiled into something darker, the more you stay in this world. holy eyes peeked at it, not at them but at the abyss that is their 'love.'

...you were starting to get aware. and a rarity occurred, you were... 'saddened'. for eternities you lived alone, and in an attempt to reconnect with that sliver of humanity you hid and kept, you went here to feel something again. and you did, and you were so successful.

too successful, in fact.

they loved you; so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, sooooo much. without you, they would die! :(

and that, in your eyes, is what makes you 'sad'. if your presence drives your beloved mortals to insanity's grip, then you must fly.

fly away from this despair, fly away from this madness.

your 'love' is your undoing, and ultimately also theirs.

their eyes widen as the sky is torn once again, and a familiar star flies back into it, meaning that you--- left. left? left. left? left... left.

something inside them breaks. both hearts any sense of rationality and morality left.

there is no reason to exist without you it seems, and they will do everything just to see you once more, even a second's glimpse.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

...you can't help but feel something you havent felt for a very long time. what was it again, sadness? anxiety? fear? you dont know. the endless rows of your ivory silks flutter even in the slightest movement. something tugs at you, your mind and heart. something tugs at you, telling... that it is far from over.

they call for you, their cries drowned in obsession masquerading as love.

you never answer, as your supposed concern and care for them lessens and your patience dwindles. reality is cruel, but never crueler than you. and that's when you realized it.

...they make your skin crawl. they make you want to vomit. they make you want to scream and cry. they make your ichor run cold. and if they touch you again, you'll--

...huh. who would have thought that was how you truly felt, goddess.

[murdrdocs]

vampire!reader; biting; fang fixation; sub benny vibes 1.0k+ words (whoopsie) MDNI 18+ w/ BENNY WEIR

he thinks he's being subtle.

you know benny thinks you don't see him. you don't know why. he knows how intelligent you are, he knows how observant you are, yet he's still being as obvious as ever, staring at you while you sip from a blood bag, bringing you food and telling you that it's okay to eat in front of him, offering to tag along with you when you need to stop for a quick bite, and even watching you from the car as it happens.

you don't realize it for a while, so long that it's actually a little embarrassing, but maybe he wants you to know. he's a bit of an idiot, but he isn't completely oblivious. he had to have known that you were going to notice eventually. and even then, even when you glare at him while you lick over your fangs and clean the crimson off of them, he doesn't stop. he keeps driving and risks your lives (his life, really) to watch you.

eventually, you have to confront him. and having your suspicions confirmed by him so blatantly is surprising. it has you back tracking, your smug smirk rinsed off of your face as soon as he agreed.

"i just think they're cool, you know. they're hot" and then he left his admission hanging in the air. he tried to play it cool, as if what he just said was the most normal thing ever, but he had already incriminated himself enough.

is that what he did? incriminated himself? because his form of punishment is beneficial, for the both of you, at that. his punishment is more of a reward, like a treat given to a dog, telling him to do it again and again.

you end up straddling him, two hands keeping him pressed back against the bed as you run your lips over his skin. you're taking your time, letting him feel the sensation of just your lips before you give him more.

before, when you started by kissing him, he had one hand along your lower back, rubbing little circles that you melted back into. but now he's growing impatient. his shoulders may be kept still against the bed, but his hands have free reign. they grip your hips, pinching into the skin around the waistband of your panties.

when you dip your tongue out, his hips push up into yours. when you bare your teeth and drag them along his jaw, just flat without the introduction of your fangs, benny pulls you down into him.

you try not to laugh when you tell him, "patience, it's coming," but you think your smile was a little audible.

when it does come, when you let your fangs drop with a little hiss and you press them into benny's pale skin, you think he might cum. he sighs, big and satisfactory, and his body goes limp. it's like you've given him exactly what he needed, and maybe that's truly what happened.

you sink your hips down until you can feel the boner in his boxers up against the crotch of your panties, and in tandem you give pressure to your fangs. your lips hover right above his skin, you're far enough from a vein, but it's right there. this is more control than you've ever had to exercise before, but it's mutual.

you can feel benny grinding up into you. over the sound of the blood rushing through his body, you can hear his breathing. his heart pumps dutifully in his chest, his lungs bring in shallow gulps of air. between it all, he's moaning. it's barely audible, if you weren't you, then you wouldn't even hear it. but you do and it's so fucking beautiful.

it's enough to keep you from sinking your teeth into benny's pretty, perfect vein. if you want to keep your composure, and if you want to keep benny alive, you need to hear more.

you press one hand into the pillow beneath his head of curls, and use the other to slide down his bare chest until you get to his checkered boxers. you rest your hand over his boner, working down the length of it, and you do it over and over again. it's barely enough stimulation, at least you would think that, but benny is making those noises and it's working. you keep going.

he tells you to keep going, after broken mumbles of your name and insistent stuttering as if he’s terrified to speak.

"more. can you, uh … just—more, please."

you slip your hand into his boxers.

he sighed into his next request. "a little more."

you gather some of the slick from your cunt (which is wetter than you're willing to admit) and combine it with the droplet of pre on his tip.

the last is guttural, as if he’s almost there. "more."

it's then that you realize he's not asking for more down there, he's asking for more up here. you hesitate. but as erica has always told you, there's no way you're going to gain more control without practice.

so you avoid the vein and you dip your teeth into his skin, no more than the first five layers, but that's all you need. you're being careful as benny cums, your hand doing most of the work as you press open mouthed kisses into the skin of his neck, and it's a good system. until benny presses his hand into the back of your hand and he pushes and you feel the puncture. it's a classic stick, reminscent to getting your finger pricked when you were a kid, but what the needle felt. it's satisfactory, the precursor to something you'll never get enough of. and it's right there, the substance you've been craving for weeks.

but restraint. control. so you pull back before you can get a taste and you're a little bit glad that you do pull back, because benny's still riding through his orgasm, his cock twitching in your hand, and he looks so pretty. his thick eyebrows lifted, his eyes shut and his eyelashes reaching towards the shadows under his eyes, his lips parted as he periodically sighs or gasps. the sight is almost enough to make up for your refusal to indulge in the blood beading out of the dual holes in benny's neck.

almost.

[seokith]

sudden confession

ೀ pairing ; wonbin x gn!reader

ೀ genre ; fluff, f2l

ೀ wc ; 775 .

ೀ notes ; hai.. i decided to go back to writing so i apologize if its a bit messy as of now swear it’s going to get a lot better ◞᎔◟ i didn’t really have an idea in my mind so i just went with the flow whoopsies! + i apologize if there's any grammatical errors because english is not my first language </3

“binna, look! the sunset!"

that was what broke wonbin from his trance. he watched you drag him to a nearby fence that overlooked the sea and land, and he watched you admire the sunset. eventually, he shifted his gaze to the sunset in front of him, and gosh, it did not disappoint. part of him wished the sunset could be permanent so he could see you happy like this forever, but no matter how beautiful the sunset was, it could never compare to you.

not long after, wonbin shifted his gaze back to you, but you didn’t notice as you were too immersed in the view in front of you. it was breathtaking. it almost had the same effect on you as wonbin when he’s competing, but damn—the only thing that could distract you from your racing heartbeat was the view before you.

“(name),” he called softly.

“(name),” he repeated.

you shifted your eyes from the view in front of you and looked to the side, where the sound had come from.

“yes, wonbin?" you replied, your voice trembling a bit. since when did he look this good? you didn’t know if you could handle seeing the guy you had grown to love looking even more handsome under the setting sun. you felt your face turning crimson, but you tried to hold it back.

“i… i have to get something off my chest," wonbin started.

“we’ve been friends ever since middle school, but i can’t deny that i've developed some feelings for you, (name). you were the first person to come up to me and talk to me other than the class president back then, and it really meant something to me. you helped me settle into the school, and i couldn’t be more thankful. every time i had doubts, you were always there to make me feel better, and that means a lot to me, (name),” he paused, shifting his gaze from you to the sunset in front of him, sighing.

“i know this might be a lot for you to process, but (name), i think… i like you. i don’t know if you feel the same way, but if you don’t, that’s fine. we can just pretend like this never happened. but if you do…" he pulled his eyes away from the view in front of him and looked you in the eye, his cheeks clearly burning.

“may I be your boyfriend?”

boom. it felt like time had stopped. did wonbin just confess to you? was this real? if it was a dream, why did it feel so real? you couldn’t form any words, too surprised, and wonbin felt like he was going to melt under your gaze, as if you had seen something terrifying. he was more nervous now than he’d ever been during any of his competitions.

“i—i, never mind, just forget this happen—"

“wonbin-ah," you interrupted his ramble.

wonbin shifted his gaze from the ground and looked at you with shaky eyes.

“you… you like me? since when?" you asked.

wonbin's eyes widened. was he really going to expose himself to his own crush? fuck, he cursed internally.

“remember when we met during our year nine summer break?" he answered.

holy fucking shit. if you remembered correctly, that was about two years ago. you felt yourself heating up and shakily sighed before speaking again.

“t-that long? why didn’t you tell me? here I was, thinking this was a one-sided love the whole time…"

“yes, that long—wait, what?" did he hear that right? did wonbin mishear what you just said? no, it couldn’t be.

“bbin, i like you too, you know? even longer than that. i've liked you since—well, since that field trip back in year eight, actually…" you scratched your head as you slowly revealed your feelings for him.

“and to answer your question, sure. you may be my boyfriend, wonbin." there, you said it. fucking hell, you were sure you sounded like a squeaky toy when you said that, but you couldn’t care less.

wonbin smiled happily when he heard this. he reached out and gave you a tight hug, overcome by sudden joy.

you didn’t react at first, as shocked as he was, and he sensed that you might be uncomfortable with the sudden hug. as he began to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into the tight embrace.

the sound of waves crashing along with the sunset that's sinking made everything feel surreal. the beauty that captured a blossoming relationship between the two friends that fate had brought upon them was unmatched and nothing else could disturb them nor break them apart.

[itadores]

boyfie!kiryuu mitsuki headcanons

note: kiryuu's character design is very neat to me. also posting now because i have no patience whoopsie

word count: .9k

tags: gender neutral reader, fluff

kiryuu is very much a gentleman. he makes sure to open the door before you even have a chance to reach for the handle and pulls out your chair at every restaurant you go to. he even goes so far as to tell you not to move when you’re in the passenger seat of the car so he can run around the vehicle and open the door for you.

he also knows about the sidewalk rule and makes sure that he’s the one walking closer to the street rather than you. if you somehow manage to be the one closer to the street, kiryuu skillfully moves to be on the other side of you. he moves so smoothly that you tend to not even notice what he’s done.

he likes playing games with you. whether it’s board games or card games or video games, kiryuu likes it when you can play together. it doesn’t matter too much to him if the game is multi-player or single-player as long as you’re in the same area playing.

he also definitely sends you game pigeons at any given hour. it could be three in the morning, and your phone will ping with a notification that kiryuu texted you, wanting to start a round of 8-ball. you guys typically have multiple games going at one time, starting a new one as soon as one ends.

kiryuu even gets his friends in on it, making one big group chat for you all to play crazy eight together.

if you ever forget your jacket, kiryuu always gives you his, even if you voice your protests. he just waves you off and says that his jacket suits you more as he helps you put it on. how can you put up any more of an argument when he says such sweet things like that?

as much as kiryuu likes seeing you wear his clothes, he also likes wearing yours as well, especially if it’s a bit oversized. if he’s over at your place, he’ll help himself to your closet and slip on his favorite oversized hoodie of yours. if you give him a look, he simply responds with a happy little content sound as he burrows himself further into your hoodie. (you’ve grown accustomed to his behavior and have resorted to just leaving his favorite hoodie of yours out whenever he comes over.)

you’ve also probably picked up the habit of carrying a few hair accessories on you, such as some hair pins and a hair tie or scrunchie. kiryuu is constantly losing his hair pins (even though he has an entire case of them), so you start carrying some for him just in case. if he opens his hair pin case just to come up empty-handed, you’ll wordlessly hand him a hair accessory.

kiryuu likes wearing outfits that complement your own. he likes it when you guys are dressed in the same color scheme or when your clothing is made of a similar material. he thinks it makes you look so good together. kiryuu likes it most, however, when you wear an accessory that matches the pattern of his shirt. it's a sure fire way for people to know that you're together.

kiryuu effortlessly brings out your sillier side. although he's typically a pretty cool and collected guy, he does like things that could be seen as dumb or silly. (have you seen his silicone hot dog phone case?) he's pretty comfortable with himself, which includes being a little embarrassing at times, easing any worries that you may have regarding him finding you or your potential interests childish.

if you guys are taking a selfie or are in a photo booth together, kiryuu needs one of the poses you do to be a funny pose. bonus points if the photo booth has props because kiryuu is definitely picking out props that he finds funny and that you may find absurd. he likes the way you laugh when he poses for you, even if it may be at his own expense.

texting kiryuu can definitely be a little frustrating at times. he's a prompt texter, but he's also an avid user of emojis, reaction images, and gifs. it's rare for him to reply to your text messages using only words, which may be a little irritating if you're trying to have a proper conversation with him. if kiryuu can sense you're getting annoyed, he'll knock it off and reply to you the way you desire before resuming his typical texting habits once more.

kiryuu normally has a calm temperament, but he becomes unsettlingly calm when somebody's hitting on you and can't quite get the hint that you're not interested in them. if he's not already by your side, he'll appear out of nowhere, putting himself between you and the person who can't get the hint. it's nearly scary the way kiryuu will verbally tear the person to shreds, all the while he has a little smile on his face.

kiryuu enjoys it when you play with his hair. he'll never turn you down if you ask to play with it. he likes the feeling of your hands in his hair, and he knows you have fun when he lets you do whatever you want to his hair. whether it's pinning his hair back with overly cutesy barrettes or weaving little braids throughout his hair, kiryuu will leave the house with the hairstyle you've given him. even if you tell him he doesn't have to and that you were just playing around, he'll do so anyway. he likes being able to tell people that you did his hair when he gets questions about the new look.

all in all, kiryuu is a great boyfriend. in your opinion? he's the very best.

[misslavenderlady]

A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock ‘N Roll - Chapter 15

Summary: Michael and David have been thoroughly enjoying their time as a couple. But while they do have plenty of loved ones that support them, there may still be quite a few intense challenges to overcome.

Full credit to @silvermaplealder for the gif of David and Michael!

TW: Chapter contains mentions of abuse and mental health/stress

Heyyyyy....so uh.....it's been a year. Whoopsie. I genuinely am sorry to keep everyone waiting. This past year has been a rollercoaster of events. I hope you understand and still welcome my fic with this update 💜

Previous Chapter *nsft chapter* Next Chapter

To be with your one, true love was something that only a few lucky souls in the world got to experience. Whether someone found their happiness with a romantic partner, a platonic friend, or a loving family, it was true bliss to be with the person you cared most about. David knew he had found that kind of love when he had crossed paths with his boys long ago.

But Michael? This was an entirely different feeling. Something fresh and exciting and full of hope. Michael was the first person he wanted to see when he awoke after sunset, and the one he would kiss farewell before hiding away from the sunrise. What made their newfound love even sweeter was the fact that he could tell Michael felt the same way. 

For the first couple of weeks after they made love together, David would occasionally peek into Michael's mind, ever-so curious as to whether or not the cowboy was still pleased with their relationship. It made his heart soar whenever he heard thoughts of joy, adoration, and occasional lust. 

Though as the season shifted from summer into autumn, David found no use in his vampire tricks any longer. He didn't need to pry into Michael's mind to understand him. It was far easier to notice when the brunet wanted something or was enjoying their time together. It was interesting, and certainly not unwelcome. Change could be a good thing, and Michael was proof of that.

And he had full intentions of enjoying every moment they shared together. Tonight was one of those times.

“You really trust me enough to be here for this?”

“‘Course I do! Don’t you worry yourself, alright?”

Michael had his hand fully grasped around David’s, eagerly guiding him to the barn on the Emerson property. As per usual, they had just finished enjoying a filling, delicious dinner made from scratch by Lucy. Now Michael was ready to wrap up some chores around the place before spending the night having fun. 

Usually, David would take the opportunity to sneak away with the other boys in order to find and drain a victim. Lucy knew how to keep their bellies full, but they still relied on the taste of fresh blood to keep their vampiric powers going strong. But this time was a bit different. Michael had asked David to join him for one particular task he had to do. Something that was incredibly important, according to him. 

“I think you’re really gonna like this, David,” Michael assured him with a bright smile. “It’s one of my favorite things to do ‘round here.”

David’s curiosity grew with each step as they walked further into the barn, the sound of hay crunching under their boots filling his ears all the while. It was the only thing he heard until a second, much louder sound surprised him.

“MOOOOOOOO”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear the noise of a farm animal in a place like this, but what truly caught the vampire off guard was hearing a bold noise come out of a small creature. 

Standing in one corner of the barn was a little calf. A fluffy coat of black and white fur, a shiny, wet snout, and a swishing tail. She seemed to perk up at the sight of the two boys, as if it knew they were there to give her plenty of attention. Michael giggled at such a sight. 

“Yeah yeah, I know, girl,” Michael said. “You know what’s comin’, dontcha?”

The cowboy leaned down to get on the little cow’s level, giving her a nice scratch under her chin as a greeting. Her big, brown eyes fluttered shut, and she leaned into his hand more, no doubt enjoying the sensation. While he kept petting her, Michael turned his gaze back to David.

“This little lady is Cookie! She’s a Lineback. Sam and I picked her up at an auction across town last week!” he explained. “She’s spoiled rotten ‘cause of how plum cute she is~”

You’d have to be an absolute monster not to melt at the sight of such a sweet little creature. And that was saying something, since David technically was such a thing. He softly smiled at the calf, kneeling down to meet her at eye level. She was still a bit spooked, backing up suddenly when he moved towards her. A twinge of guilt ran through him at the sight. 

“Aww don’t feel bad, David! She’s just a little shy when it comes to meetin’ new people,'' Michael assured him. “Besides, you’ll become her best friend once you give her this.”

Michael reached into a bag he had brought along for their trip. It took no more than a moment for him to fish out exactly what he needed. In his hand, he held a large, rectangular plastic bottle with a thick, white liquid sloshing around inside. A rubber nipple was secured at the end of it, much like a baby bottle. 

“She’s still bein’ bottle fed. I do this a couple times a day. Since she doesn’t have her mama, this’ll be how she gets big and strong,” he explained, giving the bottle a light shake. Cookie’s eyes widened at the sight while her tail swished around some more. The two boys giggled at the sight of her excitement. It was like seeing a dog wag its tail when being offered a treat. 

Michael gave David a smile as he held out the bottle for him to take. “Why don’t you try feedin’ her?”

“Well, I’ve never done this before, so I may need some help so that I don’t look like an idiot,” David admitted. 

“No worries! It’s a lot easier than ya think!”

After giving him some pointers on how to position the bottle and how to get her to latch on, Michael stood back in order to let David do his thing. Careful to follow the advice given, David allowed Cookie to come up to him and take a drink at her own pace. Sure enough, she became a lot more friendly with him once she got a taste of the milk. 

A bright smile spread across his face as he watched the calf drink. Michael was right when he said it was easier than he realized. She snorted and gulped, noisily taking as much milk as she wanted. He had to admit, it was quite precious. It really felt like he was bonding with the little creature. 

That was, until she pulled away and pushed her head against the bottle, causing it to slam against his leg. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

Michael let out an amused laugh, clearly enjoying seeing David get flustered by a baby animal. 

“She’s nudging! When calves are around their mothers, they do that to the udders as a way to get more of the milk to come out. But since it’s just you with a bottle, she thinks the same thing will happen ‘cause she doesn’t know the difference. Hurts like a bitch, don’t it?”

“It’s a good thing she’s cute. Otherwise, I’d have to scold her,” David said with a smirk. Cookie’s ears fluttered while she went back to work on drinking her milk. 

The two of them enjoyed more of Cookie’s feeding time, encouraging her and cooing at how adorable she was. The little cow was practically eating up the attention the same way she was eating up her meal. By the time she was finished with the bottle, the fur on her chin was soaked with milk. She seemed quite pleased with herself. 

“Atta girl,” Michael said. He took a rag from the same bag he had carried the milk in order to clean up the mess all around her face. Just as she did before, she tried to nudge Michael’s hand. “Sassy lil’ thing.”

“And definitely a daddy’s girl. She’s gonna miss you if you go back to school, Michael.”

The brunet let out a snort and a hearty laugh at such a comment.

“Hell nah, I ain’t goin’ back to school! I graduated a year early back in Texas. I ain’t doin’ more of that shit. Let Sammy deal with all that. I’ll stay here with my lil’ buddies,” he laughed, giving Cookie a playful rub behind the ears. 

The blond leaned up against one of the walls of the barn, letting out a sigh of relaxation while his boyfriend took care of Cookie. It put him at ease seeing Michael working hard. He did so much for his family and all the animals on their farm. Considering he used to only value partying hard and spilling blood, it was comforting to see someone who cared about doing things for others without expecting something in return.

“I don’t know how you do it,” David said.

“Whatcha mean?”

“I mean, I don’t know how you do all of this! How you take care of animals, do all the chores, take on a bunch of hard labor, and then still have time and energy to do stuff with me and the boys. Honestly, you’ve got a crazy amount of stamina. How do you do it?”

Michael pondered over David’s words. He stayed quiet for a moment, reflecting on them as he finished up with Cookie. He let out a tired sigh as he sat down in the hay and let the calf snuggle up on his lap.

“Honestly? I don’t really know myself,” he admitted. “It’s actually a lot more exhaustin’ than I make it look, David.”

It wasn’t an answer that David had been expecting. Growing curious, he stopped his leaning so that he could kneel down and be more at Michael’s eye level. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, wordlessly asking what the human’s response meant. Michael gave him a sheepish smile, realizing he couldn’t take back his choice of words. 

“Between you, me, and Cookie, I take on as much as I possibly can because I don’t know how long I’ll get to do this.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s like this: I’m the man of the house in the eyes of my mama. Sure, Grandpa’s still kickin’ but he ain’t no spring chicken. He needs my help with so much ‘round here. You weren’t here for it, but he nearly threw his back out just carryin’ some horse feed. He needs me, especially ‘cause Mama’s worried about him.”

Michael’s smile slowly faded as he spoke. The calf he held nuzzled up against him, enjoying being held as he spoke. Michael gently pet her, letting her relax into his hand. He always felt better around the animals. 

“I don’t mind helpin’ out. I care about my family. I want to look after them. But…I don’t wanna miss out on life while I’m young. It feels like….I dunno…like jugglin’, I guess. I wanna go wild, drink myself stupid, do some partyin’, go on adventures. But someday I’m gonna have to grow up. Maybe settle into some work for other farms to make more money. Get Sammy what he needs when he goes to college someday. Make sure Mama doesn’t have to work. There’s just so much to do in so little time…”

David’s eyebrows creased, and he frowned as he listened to Michael. In all the times he listened to the boys' thoughts, he never heard such things in his head. It was almost as if Michael was trying to act and not think. He pushed his thoughts and feelings aside so he could just focus on what was in front of him. It made David wonder just how long his boyfriend had been carrying around such burdens. Never acknowledging the work. 

“What about you, Michael?” David spoke up. “You keep talking about your family, but what about the stuff you want?”

“I already do the stuff I want!” Michael tried to assure him. “Every night we go ridin’ or raise a little hell on the boardwalk or even havin’ our jam sessions is always fun. I honestly haven’t felt so happy since the move.”

He carefully moved the hand that wasn’t petting Cookie in order to reach out and grab David’s hand. Out of a reflex, David immediately intertwined their fingers together. He never got tired of doing that.

“And you. I get to be with you, David. Every second we’re together makes me forget I even got troubles. You keep me in the moment. Don’t make everything feel so rushed.”

David softly smiled at the kind words Michael shared. He brought the human’s hand upward so that he could kiss the back of it. All the while, he ran his thumb over Michael’s knuckles. 

“I feel the same way, Cowboy,” he sighed. “I’d do anything to make you happy. I just….want to take away all those troubles you have. Life is meant to be savored, not rushed through. You deserve to enjoy all the stuff you like and not have to carry the pressure of your family.”

Not satisfied with just the smooch on his hand, Michael grabbed hold of David’s shirt, tugging him closer so that they could share a proper kiss. He giggled as he pressed his lips, enjoying the familiar scent of David’s cigarettes on his skin. When they broke apart, David had a grin of his own. 

“Carryin’ these things is my burden, darlin. As long as I’ve got you in my life, I’ll be just fine.”

“Well, I’ll still help when I can. We all will,” David assured him. 

Michael smirked at him, amused by such promises. Even if David was true to his word, he found it cute to see this bad boy turn into a loyal farm hand. 

“And if you just so happen to change your mind about all this work and just….I dunno….want to run away together and become a country and rock music duo and have a home of our own back in your hometown, I would absolutely go along with it.”

The human boy burst into a fit of giggles. Clearly such a specific scenario had been playing around in David’s mind for sometime. He really was crazy about that guy. 

“You’re too sweet, y’know that, Huckleberry?” 

“Only for you, Cowboy~” 

The two of them were so close and eager to share another kiss together. But as they leaned in to do it again, they were rudely interrupted by the fussy little cow on Michael’s lap.

“Mooooo!!!”

“You are such a drama queen,” Michael playfully scolded Cookie. “You’re not the only one that gets affection ‘round here, missy. Learn to share.”

David watched in amusement as Michael got back on his feet and hoisted the fluffy calf into the air. He followed the lead and stood back up as well, dusting off the hay and dirt from his beloved jacket. One of these days, he’d ask Michael to loan him some proper work clothes to wear around the farm. Or at the very least, he’d swipe them off some sucker after a hunt. 

Speaking of hunting, he hadn't heard from the boys yet. Usually, one of them would let him know when they were cleaning up after feeding. Had they not found a good meal yet?

“Michael, do you mind if I go looking for the boys? I'd love for them to meet Cookie too.” 

“Absolutely! The more the merrier,” Michael said. “Just do me a favor and take the bag and the bottle back inside. I'll put everything away once I'm done with the other animals.” 

With a quick nod and another peck, David was off for the Emerson house. He twirled the bag around his wrist as he followed the path to the back porch. Before he cut through the hall in order to get to the kitchen, something caught his eye in the dining room. 

“Oh! Hey, Sam!” 

Sitting in a chair at the dining table was the younger Emerson brother. Across the table were a variety of textbooks, looseleaf paper and composition notebooks. Sam was deep in focus, hunched over his work, with a pencil tapping in between his fingers. He barely gave David a glance as he read over his notes. 

“Wow! Better lower the enthusiasm before you break a blood vessel!” David said sarcastically, ready to leave the kid alone since he was clearly in a mood. 

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be so harsh on him. He and Michael already messed with him enough with their pranks and roughhousing. David turned back around and softened his expression a little. The same look he usually had around Laddie.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sam. Didn’t mean to sass you,” he apologized, leaning over one of the spare dining chairs. “Can I make it up to you, bud?”

Sam’s sour expression didn’t budge while he continued writing down answers for his homework. He only gave David a side glance rather than proper eye contact. 

“I dunno. Can you do ninth grade geometry?” 

“Uhhh….’fraid not,” David admitted. 

“Then no, you can’t. So you can just leave me alone. Stop botherin’ me already.”

David was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. He was itching to bare his fangs again and hiss at the boy. He didn’t take kindly to any attitude from bratty kids. Still, he wanted to keep his cool and make things right. If not for his own sake, then for Michael’s. 

“Sam, I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m not your enemy here. I’m trying to make nice with you here, so why do you still wanna act like you hate me?”

The younger boy flicked his pencil down onto the table and slammed his math book shut. Now David had his full attention, and Sam wasn’t looking too happy about it.

“You wanna know why I hate you?” he snapped. “It’s ‘cause I know you’re nothin’ but trouble! You’re dangerous! Bad to the bone!”

“So what if I am? Everyone has their flaws. Is it really fair to hate me for that? For trying to be better? I’m trying to do that for your family. For Michael!”

“How can I possibly trust that? How do I know you’re not gonna go and hurt my brother?”

David’s breathing was heavier and his stomach was churning. The more Sam argued with him, the more he wanted to prove himself. It was all so frustrating. This was the first time in ages he wanted to have a connection with humans. He didn’t want to be seen as a monster as others had for decades now. Letting out a sigh and lowering his guard, David allowed himself to be vulnerable to Michael’s brother.

“Because I love him.”

Silence hung in the air between the two of them. Sam’s baby blue eyes widened and his expression softened at the words. He could have expected any response except that. 

Though he already knew of Michael’s sexuality and blossoming relationship with David, he hadn’t been too enthusiastic about it. Paranoia about cryptic creatures trying to claw their way into Sam’s home life had put him on edge. Even if others broke bread with the Lost Boys, he hadn’t trusted for a second.

And yet….the look in David’s eyes was genuine. Not one bit of deception to be found. 

“You love him?”

“Yeah, Sam, I do.” 

Before Sam felt like he could rant a mile a minute to David’s face. Now he was quiet as a mouse, looking rather embarrassed for being so harsh before. David figured he would keep talking to get rid of some of the awkwardness. 

“Sam, I get it. You’re feeling protective of Michael. He’s your brother. I feel the same way about Marko, Dwayne and Paul.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But we like it here. We like your family. And we take care of our family. I want to make Michael happy, just like he’s done for me. So I want you to know that I don’t want to hurt him.”

David offered a gesture that not too many had the honor of experiencing. He held out a gloved hand, ready to give a shake with Sam. 

“I just want to be your friend.”

Sam looked as if he was still on the fence about whether it was right to trust David. The warnings of Edgar and Alan echoed in his head. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe he had misread the whole situation with Max. Hell, maybe he even hallucinated that burn on his hand when they were at the party. 

After all the shenanigans, maybe it all boiled down to the fact that he was just a scared kid. Scared for both his mother and brother. Max wasn’t right for their family, but David was. What he and Michael had was real.

So with an ever-so faint smile, Sam accepted the offer and shook hands with David. The blond seemed to physically relax more, no doubt glad to get Sam’s acceptance. 

“Thanks, Sam,” David said. “I apprecia-”

“DAVID!”

A voice screamed out in the blond’s head. He tensed up, recognizing it was Dwayne calling out to him. He sounded so urgent and loud. Such qualities were very out of place when they talked.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sam now had a look of concern on his face, worried by how shaken up David suddenly seemed to be.

“I-I...Sorry, I just realized I need to check on something…” David nervously explained. He let go of Sam’s hand and the bag he had held before sprinting off to the back door that he had come through. Something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t keep Dwayne waiting.

“I’m here! What’s wrong?”

“Emergency….help….us….”

“What’s going on? Dwayne, where are you guys??”

At that moment, David was sure his heart was going to drop into his stomach. The feeling only grew stronger when he got his answer.

“Max’s…..house…h-hurry…”

He was off like a shot. David didn’t even bother with his motorcycle. He didn’t care about how fast and reckless he was with flying into the night sky. His boys were in danger. There was no time to be cautious.

He didn’t even notice Sam coming out the back door. Just in time to see David taking flight. 

Tag List: @silvermaplealder @mikey-stardust-way @legal-lost-boy @britany1997 @ria-coolgirl @crustyraccoon @ghoulgeousimmaculate @kurt-nightcrawler @blackcoffeebat @thelostsouls1987 @crustyboypix @thornthehellhound @solobagginses @6lostgirl6 @american-idiot-jpg @bloodywickedvamp @anxiouslittleweirdkid @juss-soupp @bloodsuckingfiends @f4iryfxies @bezinful @oceansrose2002 @piratesangel @vampirefilmlover @charlizekkelly @blueberrypancakesworld @thinkblotted @midnight-in-santa-carla @warrior-616 @rain-universe @queerlittlem0nster @hypocriticaltypwriter @britany1997

[tobiasdrake]

One of my favorite bits of Dragonball trivia is that Yajirobe canonically sounds exactly like Krillin (because Toriyama wanted to make sure Krillin's VA still had a steady job while he was dead). so in honor of that, what are your thoughts on Yajirobe?

I support the commander and general of Yajirobe's Special Forces.

...okay, that probably needs some explaining. A bit the anime liked to do for their filler was to have news cameras and reporters swarm the action to report on everything that's happening. This became very awkward later in the series when it was a plot point that nobody remembered Goku more than ten years after Piccolo's defeat.

One of these bits has reporters interviewing Yajirobe while the Saiyan battle was going on. Yajirobe claims that his elite team are out there engaging the Saiyans. So this became a running joke on another site I was on. Dragon Team? Z Warriors? Nah. Yajirobe's Special Forces.

But in seriousness, let's talk Yajirobe.

As noted, this is a character who only exists because, for a brief period, Krillin didn't. Toriyama killed off Krillin but didn't want his V.A. to go without work, so he purposely and explicitly notes in the manga that Yajirobe conveniently sounds just like Krillin.

"Oh wow, you sound just like someone who would be played by Mayumi Tanaka in the anime adaptation of my adventures!" ~Goku

Yajirobe is pretty unique in Dragon Ball for being a weapon-based fighter. The only other character who relies on a sword is Trunks, and he loses his sword pretty early in the Android arc.

Due to his function as a surrogate character for Krillin, Yajirobe is pretty underdeveloped. He's a wandering ronin wildman Goku happens to run into who's tough enough to hang with 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai top contenders.

Somewhere, Tenshinhan doesn't know why but he's incredibly offended right now.

Though when he does get a chance to attend the tournament, it doesn't go well. Then again, he's pit against God in the qualifiers so that's bad luck.

Don't worry, Yajirobe. Yamcha feels your pain.

God came to defeat Piccolo but he figures, as long as he's here, he might as well humiliate martial artists for lulz. This whole drunken boxing-esque "Whoopsy did I win?" shtick must be so demoralizing to lose to.

As a fighter, Yajirobe leans on his katana. This is what makes him so distinctive, compared to other martial artists. He does fight hand-to-hand when he isn't taking things seriously.

But for Yajirobe, getting serious means going for his sword. He practices iaijutsu, a form of kenjutsu revolving around rapid drawing, striking, and sheathing of one's blade. 90's anime fans may recognize iaijutsu or its older name battojutsu as the basis for Kenshin Himura's style in the samurai anime Rurouni Kenshin.

This kill was brought to you by iaijutsu, a popular art for anime swordsmanship because it's fucking cool. Vegeta would later fall victim to Yajirobe's iaijutsu as well.

Imagine being the second-most powerful being the universe literally on the cusp of annihilating the last line of defense that this pitiful world has to offer, with the only truly dangerous opponent broken in your hand....

And then suddenly you lose everything to Krillin's stunt double. This is worse. This is definitely worse than having God Whoopsy Doodle Headbutt you in the balls. 100%, this is worse.

This was both the first and last time Yajirobe had any meaningful impact on a fight. I don't count killing Cymbal up there because Goku would have done it if he hadn't. That was an establishing moment to show off Yajirobe's abilities.

Rather, despite his abilities and standoffish demeanor, Yajirobe is primarily the party healer. It's super weird. Right from the start, his first contribution is a fish Goku swipes from him to get his strength back.

Goku had no idea that this was stealing. He thought fish just... happen like that sometimes.

Goku's bad at life.

But then everything changes for him, after. Uh. Piccolo kills Goku and then Goku... inexplicably springs back to life for no clear reason at all.

Yeah, this beat-for-beat copy/paste of the Taopaipai fight has some jank to it. But that means Yajirobe's next order of business is to serve as a mode of transportation to bring Goku to healz.

And then he moved in. Now he just. Lives there. Obnoxious college roommate to the God of Martial Arts, running errands in the world below. Karin's personal gofer.

Hey, God wants to see us all for fight practice and also your weird island house is dumb and obnoxious.

Here are your Senzu; Bean Daddy out.

The best thing about Yajirobe is the total lack of fucks he gives about whatever this is. Any time he's onscreen, you can feel his resentment over having to earn his rent by continuing to be a character in this manga.

(And the second best thing is that somehow, Wildman With Sword is the party healer.)

[tortoise-bearing-cups]

Ministry rambles goooo (because someone reblogged an old comment of mine I never explained and why not, let's speculate a bit on the Ministry)

One of the things I find interesting is that Fudge gets himself in this position of power yet he is so influencable. But I don't think he's just some idiot. I think he has reasons for his decisions, and those reasons are: don't get in trouble.

Take Umbridge. I assume his relationship with her is like keeping a mean dog on a long leash. The leash is short enough that the dog isn't going to bite your kids. But it might bite the people you don't like, because it knows you don't like them, and you can just go, whoopsie! Dogs bite, y'know, it's in their nature, nothing for it. Best case scenario, the dog bites lots of people you don't like and there are no consequences. Worst case scenario, you can just shoot the dog.

So. Percy.

Percy is a very competent, overworking person with no idea what he's worth. I have a few guesses as to why he was allowed to run a department in the first place. His coworkers have their own jobs and may not want to take on extra work, especially if it's so much work Percy barely goes home. (Though he might also have been overworking himself to prove himself, or he may just not have wanted to go home.) It seems kind of strange that none of them are ambitious and want to take advantage--if Crouch was against hiring ambitious people, he wouldn't have hired Percy. Possibly they're all burnt out from failed ambitions already, say if Crouch takes on ambitious people, works them for everything they have, then promotes the next eager young person. (I have worked places like this.)

From outside the department, it may appear that Crouch has the new guy doing everything precisely because no one is going to promote Percy straight to Department Head. If someone more experienced replaced Crouch for months, they might get his job!

(As a side note, I am so, so curious about what Barty Jr.'s instructions were here. How much does he understand about his father's job? Was Percy getting good instructions or getting vague direction and having to figure things out himself? He didn't know about the Second task despite how involved he was with the Tournament, or he wouldn't have been surprised by Ron being there. There's also a lot of room for like, Dumbledore telling Percy that things are handled, and then when Percy shows up no one can see the task and it makes the Ministry look bad, because Dumbledore is not happy about the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts.)

But anyway, Percy and Fudge. Percy's job seems to be following Fudge around attending to him, writing things down, maybe keeping his schedule. (As others have said, he is perfectly positioned to spy on Fudge, oh my god, why would you accuse Percy of being hired to spy on Dumbledore and break with him.)

Fudge is very easily influenced, but again, I don't think this is just because he's stupid. It's blame-passing. His direct influences, Dumbledore and Malfoy, are directly opposed. He can listen to both of them, make what ever decision he wants, then claim that one of them convinced him.

It's not his fault!

Which is how, with Dumbledore gone, you can have Percy fill Dumbledore's role. It's not Fudge's fault that he made that decision, his assistant's information said it was what the people wanted.

(An interesting question is if Percy knows he's being used like this. I don't think knowing would stop him. He is GOING to oppose Malfoy's bullshit and get the result he wants, consequences be damned. And I can only see Percy getting more and more cynical as he sees how the Ministry actually works.

Though ...

What Percy sees is what people are willing to bring to Fudge, a guy who's made his opinions on Voldemort's revival clear. I can see Percy thinking that if there were any proof, it would cross Fudge's desk. But no one is going to bring Fudge information he will just ignore except to get mad at them, and it might take Percy a while to pick that up.)

... which is how we get to the scenario I was talking about, where Malfoy gets in trouble in 5th year and is no longer influencing Fudge. Fudge needs people to give him opinions. Fudge can try to replace Malfoy with another assistant, but unless he's willing to bring Umbridge back from Hogwarts, no one in that office is out-stubborning Percy. He has so many opinions, so many statistics, and he had to explain what statistics even are because the Wizarding World doesn't have them and--

So Percy ends up deciding a lot of things. Why stop him? Fudge has bigger problems, and if it goes bad, he can just get rid of him!

(Also, when Fudge gets punted the rest of the Ministers are like, "You want to do all the inglorious work of running the Ministry while I focus on the war? Sounds good to me!" Which puts Percy in a position to be vital to the Ministry but not seen as a threat, and to fuck with the DEs when they take over.)

[altschmerzes]

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

OH GOSH YEAH THERE IS it's called 'without grace, without understanding' (thanks wrinkle in time) and it's a reimagining of the training arc with roy and jamie in season 3

this got a little long so it is..... under a cut lsdfkjs.

update: 'a little long' this is basically a fic in itself lmfao WHOOPSIES. i guess i may as well actually tag it, enjoy... whatever this is.

started off with me thinking about the myriad of ways that could've been a fascinating plot to use to explore those two characters' trajectories and their relationship to themselves and each other and this sport. roy's lack of trust in himself and his conviction that he ruins things.

and it's like... thinking about how roy's approach is uh. a bit much sometimes and jamie particularly doesn't necessarily react super well to that and has a tendency to take things the wrong way even when they are well delivered, and thinking about roy's concerns this season about his coaching skills. that he's REALLY worried about being a good coach. and the stuff in season 2, where he was worried he was Ruining Phoebe somehow, just.

and there's the jamie of it all. him trying to hard to be better, to do better, not sure how to make it work. how to make it happen. how to be as good as zava, be better than zava. still trying to deserve the second chance he's been given. still a brat a lot of the time bc he is who he is but also trying so hard to be good. be cooperative. be a team player. Work Hard Enough.

so you get into the actual training of it, right. they're working together one on one, and roy is pushing him. hard. and i looked at that and went. okay this is supposed to be humorous but also what if we took it seriously. what if roy pushed him TOO hard and jamie just let him because he’d do basically whatever roy told him to and thinks he’s supposed to shut up and not whine and Be Good. and this somehow ends up pushing jamie so hard he’s just completely exhausted or hurt somehow and roy is absolutely horrified by this. and is like NOPE i cant do this i shouldn’t be doing this and doesn’t really communicate to jamie why he’s calling it off. he just does it. so jamie thinks he’s done something wrong and roy thinks he’s protecting jamie by (freaking out and) walking away and it’s a MESS they gotta sort out.

somewhere in there there's a thing with roy and the coaches or the diamond dogs as a whole, right. after he's walked away from training jamie one on one and their relationship is extremely strained bc roy is spiralling beyond proportion like Oh Fuck, Oh Gd, I Was Ruining Him, I Was Hurting Him and jamie is like He's Done With Me He Don't Want Fuck-All To Do With Me. so things are... weird. they're not really talking. they're both upset and hating it. but roy sort of. he doesn't stop coaching jamie again at all, but he does sort of. he pulls back. he goes stiff and distant and doesn't engage. he doesn't ice him out like in s2 but he's not. there. either.

and so they're talking and he's like. (in his mind the training is like. paused. they're Taking A Break.) but he's like. i need to talk to you about jamie. and the others are like... yeah, sure seems like it! and roy just admits. i don’t know how to train him. what i know how to do isn’t working. what worked on me isn’t working (ted/beard/someone voice maybe it perhaps Didn’t Work On You in a good way, but-) so What Do I Do.

which gives ted the opportunity to pay it forward with some advice and just - positive reinforcement. maybe try approaching this differently. he’s destroying himself trying to make you happy, make you proud, do good in your eyes. he idolizes you, not sure how AWARE of that you are, but he does. still. maybe try using that - tell him what he’s doing right.

(and that's the fuck of it all right is like. there's this part of roy that's been wondering if he's a bad coach for the opposite reason, too. he's been wondering if he's been too soft on jamie, and maybe that was the problem. it was something that was gnawing at him, before jamie worked himself sick/hurt and he realized his approach was massively backfiring, that like... maybe he was a bad coach because he couldn't be harsh enough. but he couldn't just. he couldn't stomach being like the coaches he'd had, he just couldn't do it. and then that happened, and obviously that wasn't it, but it was in there somewhere)

but so he talks a bit about that there, like, it comes up somehow - the coaches he had when he was young. when he was a kid and when he was coming up. he talks about how he was trained and they’re like right okay sure and how do you feel about those coaches now? how did they make you feel about yourself? is that how you want jamie to feel about you? is that how you want to know he feels when you talk to him?

he doesn't. he doesn't want jamie to feel like that about him, to feel like that when looking at him. because roy respected those coaches and wanted them to be impressed with him but he was afraid of them too. and he never thought for a minute that he ever lived up to their expectations. and fuck, gd, he never, ever wants that for jamie.

and that's the point ted and beard and company sort of gently make to him too like.

and so it's like. he trusts you. he looks up to you. he'd do anything you asked him to. that's good, that helps, but it means you gotta be careful too, y'know?

so he has to figure out a new approach. and it's like. roy doesn't need a personality transplant, don't get me wrong. he's never gonna be ted and he doesn't need to be. that's not the goal here. it's about figuring out how to be tough without being mean, right? and maybe a little about figuring out how to let himself soften.

(especially since half the time it’s his own younger self he’s hollering at imo. and so treating jamie better sort of asks him to realize he should’ve been treated better too. Be Kinder To Him And In Doing So Give Your Own 24 Year Old Self Some Gentleness And Grace.)

so roy offers to resume training with him after some other stuff happens etc, this is the part i have less thought through lmao.

(there's a subplot also with isaac and captain stuff and figuring out there's something up with jamie and not knowing what and trying to piece it together. love that too.)

and there's a scene in the end, right, where we get this whole... they've sorted things out, they're resuming training again, roy has extracted a promise from jamie to Speak The Fuck Up if things aren't going well, and he's promised to be less of a hardass generally, and then there's a bit where he like. apologizes for ever having been that hard on jamie in the first place and not thinking about whether that was the right approach.

and jamie just... he shrugs. he's not affected by this. "gotta make sure i don’t go soft, yeah?" and roy is like. no. absolutely not. stop right there.

which is when roy then makes the very specific point that like. when they talk about jamie’s performance on the pitch and how he should approach it sometimes he needs to be a prick, and he needs to worry about being permissive or passive or whatever else, but even if they have to bust out a thesaurus they will not be referring to him as soft. we will not be using that language here. do you understand me?

which... jamie. doesn't, really. he's like ??? and tries to brush it off at first like pshh that’s just the same thing “don’t want to be noncommittal or passive on the pitch ain’t that just the same thing as soft just more letters” and roy is like no. no it’s not. there’s implications in- in calling someone soft that there ain’t in there, and even if it is, so what. that’s a word that’s been used to hurt you. right? and jamie’s just kinda sullenly silent and roy goes right. which is why im not fucking using it. that’s the fucking point im trying to make here. if i can help it im not gonna fucking hurt you because i really don’t want to.

which y'know. is a lot. it's a lot for both of them. but they figure it out.

i’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while tbh but keep being like no that’s excessive- that’s dramatic- whatever this arc is gonna turn into it doesn’t NEED to turn into an angsty character/dynamic study- but honestly who cares. why not have fun with it. why not get into some of the vast unexplored potential here. maybe one day i will.

[galaxiasgreen]

📚🐦‍🔥Stay With Me

Slow burn Garreth x F!Reader romcom-mystery [T-Rated, 8.3k words]

"Now, I need you to ruffle yourself up a bit. Make yourself look dishevelled." He starts doing that to himself, raking his hand through his hair, unbuttoning his shirt collar, bunching up his cloak. You copy him, unsure, and when you're done, he thumps the door. Hard. "What? Garreth—" He lifts his hands. "May I?" "May you what?" "Touch you?"

During the next tutoring session, you admit you have no friends, so Garreth's determined to be your first.

It doesn't go quite to plan.

[read on AO3, read on Wattpad] [PREV]

2: A Near-Death Experience

The tutoring sessions continue.

On Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings, Garreth says goodbye to his friends, mentally rehearsing excuses for not doing your assigned homework, and makes his way to the agreed meeting spot. You both decide to change it frequently – sometimes in the library, sometimes in unused classrooms, and once or twice in the Great Hall, after dinner is served and the house tables are cleared of crumbs and spillages. And although he peddles his whoopsies, I missed a few questions by accident, you see through the lies and scold him for laziness anyway.

It becomes... somewhat of a strange routine, and even stranger, he accustoms to it quite naturally. His friends get used to hearing your name – Prim – mentioned in daily updates. One time you actually come up to him outside the required hours, before he sits for lunch at the Gryffindor table with Leander, Natsai and Cressida. You stall awkwardly for a moment, unwilling to interrupt his conversation.

"'Afternoon, Prim," he pipes when he sees you – then notices your closed expression. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, I— have to reschedule tonight's session."

"Oh." To be honest, he's not that disappointed, but it does make him sad to see you clearly put out. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Just some family issues, is all. I have to sort it this evening. Would you be willing to meet tomorrow instead?"

Though curious, he decides not to pry.

"Or, and here's a crazy thought... we cancel it."

"Not a chance."

"Tomorrow it is. Good luck with your family things."

"Work on your transfiguration spells in the meantime."

You go then, back to the Ravenclaw table, and Garreth takes his seat. He notices then that Leander, Natty and Cress are staring at him. Grinning.

"What?"

"That's your study buddy?" Leander wiggles his brows. "She's cute."

"She sets me homework."

"... All right, less cute."

Natty elbows him. "Don't be mean."

"I may not be into swots, but if Garreth really gets off to the sadistic torture of history essays, fair play to him."

"Eat an entire Dugbog, Prewett."

"Having said that," Cress cuts across the boys, expectantly steepling her fingers, "we would like detailed descriptions of your alone time together. You know, for research purposes."

When they all await his answer, actually serious, Garreth scoffs. "You lot are mental. I make a new friend and you instantly think something else is going on?"

"Yeah," says Cress, "because you're you."

"Don't know what you mean."

"When you fancied Nerida Roberts," says Leander, "you just happened to stumble upon her at the boat house. Every day. That wasn't a coincidence, was it?"

"That was a long time ago!"

"It was literally last year."

"You're one to talk, Mr Fancy Every Girl Who Looks at Me Twice," Garreth remarks. "Prim and I, we're just studying."

"Oh, that what people call snogging nowadays?"

Leander narrowly dodges the bread roll. Garreth doesn't keep entertaining their silly notions – his friends have a penchant of taking the mickey out of everything. They don't really believe anything untoward happens in your tutor sessions...

But now that it's out there, he's surprised to find his best friend is kind of... right. You are cute. You have a pleasant face – if it weren't scowling all the time he might even look at you long enough to find you attractive. When the conversation moves on, he takes a discreet peak of you at the Ravenclaw table, nursing your food, textbook open, not saying a word to anyone else. What family issues do you have? What's so pressing that it's forced you to put aside your upcoming O.W.L.s?

At the next tutoring session, he dares to ask.

"Sort your family things out, then?"

Your shoulders rise – again, an easy sign that he shouldn't have asked. Yet this time you reply.

"Yes, I did. Thank you."

"Was it bad?"

"Did you finish the homework I set you?"

The dismissal is obvious, but he lets it slide.

By October, you've warmed to him a little. He notices, in the way you don't scold him for being late, in the way your notes are less neat, in the way your tone relaxes as you instruct him on his pitiful wand technique. Most importantly you're less focused on only doing revision, letting other topics of conversation slip through the cracks. It culminates in a session on a Friday evening, when night has fallen and the library is quiet as most – okay, all – students have left their workloads behind for the weekend.

"I... have a question for you."

He's scribbling some key points for his Divination essay. "No, I can't remember where the witch trials took place. Salami, Mass-Murder-something, or whatever."

"No, that— that's not what I was going to ask." A beat. "And it's Salem, Massachusetts."

"That's what I said. What was your question?"

You hesitate long enough for him to look up from the parchment.

"What... actually happened last year? You know, down in the caverns below Hogwarts? With the goblin rebellion?"

He preens a little. "Ah." Finally, a chink in your armour. Finally you've asked the question most normal people asked the day after it happened. He sets his quill down. "That's a long, exhaustive story, not one for the weak-minded. You sure you can handle it?"

You give him the look.

He winks. "Just checking. It all begins with my friend, Missy – new student, started here last year. Remember her at the Sorting Ceremony? Came late, much taller than the first years, went to Slytherin?"

You nod. "I thought it was unusual to see someone start in fifth year."

"It was. Then it turned out she was spending the whole year with Professor Fig trying to stop the goblins mounting an attack on the school. No idea how she got involved, but it was a right muddle. Last year was just..." He blows a raspberry. "I had another good friend in Slytherin too. Sebastian Sallow."

Recognition flashes in you. "Wasn't he expelled?"

"Yeah. For murder. Also cursed my friend Gibby." Still, Sebastian showed nothing but remorse at his trial, and Garreth doesn't have the heart to think any worse of his friend. For a Slytherin he was great company, but Azkaban won't be treating him well; it deflates him a little. "Anyway, he showed up to fight against Ranrok with Missy and me and my friends. We were all determined to help her. Missy's the sort to want to do everything herself, but you know me. I can convince a Hippogriff it's a Horklump."

You crack a smile at that. He feels gratification. A real smile!

"Ranrok and his goblins were there, going on about taking over wizardkind, blah blah blah, and we banded together to defeat them. With the professors' help, of course." He's sworn to omit another truth, that Missy absorbed some sort of primordial magic into her body. That she's basically Bombarda in human form. "Ranrok was defeated, Gibby woke from her curse, and Hogwarts and the wizarding world was saved. You're welcome."

"That's astonishing," you mumble. "And you did that all with your... friends?"

"Of course. I mean, I wouldn't say I was friends with all of them before. Imelda would've happily fed me in pieces to a Flobberworm, for example. Now she would probably feel guilty enough to sacrifice me to something a little grander. A Grindylow, maybe. And I thought Ominis was an uptight arse, but actually he's not as intimidating as he pretends. I've been getting to know him a little better this term." He grins. "Once you have a near-death experience with someone, you're kind of obligated to be friends with them for life."

You tilt your head, taking this in.

"And you?" he asks. "I guess you were hiding out in the Ravenclaw common room when it all went down?"

"No. I was in the library."

"What? Why?" You make a face. Obviously, Garreth. "Studying, right, right, but didn't you... you know, think maybe this was the end of life as we know it, and decide you didn't want to spend it with a nose in a book?"

"I mean... what else was I supposed to do?"

"Er, accept your terrible fate and brave death with your friends?"

Your lips form a thin line then. Your expression sours.

"I— I don't have any friends."

He laughs, because the statement is so absurd it's unbelievable, but when you flush, he cuts himself short.

"That's— that's just nonsense! How can you not have friends?"

"I just— don't."

"As in, you had friends but then you had an epic fight and no longer speak to them? Or... or you never had any to begin with?"

Your silence speaks volumes, and it stuns him. Five years you've been here, and not made a single friend.

"What about the other fifth-year Ravenclaws?"

"They're all friends with each other. Not me."

"And the girls in your dorm?"

"We're polite."

But not close.

It really hits him then. His aunt hasn't just assigned you through an alignment of the stars, because you happen to need help with every subject he's good at, and he happens to need help with every subject you're good at. She's also bound you together because you are lonely. Because, despite everything, Garreth is good with people, and you're... not.

The machinations of his clever Aunt Matilda. Oh, how sly.

But all right. Maybe this was more than a lucky coincidence. Maybe this was his aunt's scheme all along. But he can gain something from this, too: fulfilment from your enforced time together. If he can bring you out of your shell, help you engage with your life here, not just the books, then you will be better for it, and he will feel accomplished.

And less of a failure.

"Well, I can be your first friend then," he says. "That is, if you want."

Surprise colours your cheeks, and your eyes dart back and forth across him, searching for the lie, the trick.

"Why?"

"Because it's sad, that's why," he says earnestly. "Everyone should have at least one friend. You should really find someone in your year, but you know. I'm pretty great too."

"I— I guess, but..."

"But what?"

"I mean," you sound flustered, "I don't really know how to have friends."

Merlin's beard, this is not the conversation he thought he'd be having today. Or ever. "It's easy. You spend time together. You laugh and empathise with each other's anecdotes. You tell one another that Garreth Weasley is a delightful young man— that was a joke," he tacks on at your deadpan expression. "You just... you know, enjoy each other's company. Just like – prepare to be shocked – we're doing right now."

Your brow furrows. "You're not doing this because you want to, though. You're doing it because you have to."

He leans back then, contemplative, because it's true. At least, it was. Now, though he finds the studying part extraordinarily dull, he rather likes coming to meet you. You're stern and aloof, but in a fun way. He can prod you and find a sense of gratification when you bite back.

"Maybe at the start, but actually, you're all right, Prim."

"I still hate that nickname."

He laughs. "Good. There, that's something friends do too. Give each other terrible nicknames."

"Then what should I call you?"

"Handsome, obviously."

You roll your eyes. Another emotion. He swells with pride.

Your next session, which you decide should take place in the Transfiguration classroom itself – with his aunt's permission, of course – is two days later, after a particularly gruelling Herbology class (Arthur Plummly almost lost his hand and six-and-a-half toes). Still, he looks forward to seeing you again, and you work on his terrible attempts to change a pawn piece to a queen as you chat.

"What do you like to do in your spare time?" When you look at him, confused, he notes airily, "Friends have common ground. You know, like sharing hobbies?"

You shift and place your wand down. "Okay, well... I like to bake."

"To bake, huh? That's a very Muggle activity."

You shrug. "My mother is a Muggle, so that makes sense."

"You're a Muggle-born?"

"No. My father is a Squib."

"Oh?" That's an interesting combination. "That must've been a surprise for him."

"It was," you say fondly. "I suppose he thought he was going to have an ordinary family when he and my mother— when they moved here from Asia." You seem stiff suddenly. "Then I came along. We lived in— a regular Muggle neighbourhood. I wasn't aware of my father's heritage and neither was my mother, so she wasn't best thrilled when I got my letter, though it did bring her comfort to know the truth behind the many times I accidentally set fire to her washing line."

"We've all set fire to a washing line once or twice in our lives," he muses. "Is she superstitious?"

"Very. It's different in Asia."

He waits for you to elaborate, but you don't.

"Well," he says, going back to the original topic, "baking's great fun. I don't do it much at home, but my sister Clara's a fiend for it. Loves stuffing herself with cakes. Surprised you like it, to be honest. Bit ironic for someone bad at Potions."

"If I get the wrong measurement of flour," you say haughtily, "the bread isn't going to explode in my face."

"Fair point, but they're both about the coming together of ingredients to make a homogenous whole. If you approached Potions like that, you'd do much better at it, you know."

Your bottom lip juts. "I still prefer writing essays to blowing up cauldrons."

"That will change once I'm through with you."

"Doubt it."

He snorts, but fine. Rome wasn't built in a day, as the phrase goes, and this Rome might take an eternity to build.

But he's not one to give up.

"We'll see about that. And you'll have to bake me something soon. Not to brag, but I'm an excellent judge of a good cake."

"... You just want free food, don't you?"

"Obviously."

He walks you back to the Ravenclaw common room the next session – by total accident, mind, because he's chatting so enthusiastically about some potion ideas and you obviously don't have the heart to stop him.

"You brought Mr Weasley, I see," the eagle knocker sniffs once you reach the door. For a voice so musical it can sound so bloody smarmy. "Back from another revision session?"

"That's right," you say politely.

"Don't be nice to it," Garreth murmurs. "This knocker has attitude and doesn't deserve it."

"Only to you, because you think pranking me is entertaining."

"... I mean, it kind of is."

"Well," it says tartly, "you've never been able to solve any of my riddles, and that is something I find amusing."

"Yeah?" He's feeling particularly brazen today. "Go on, try me."

You quickly stifle a snort – which he doesn't miss – as the knocker clears its throat.

"Very well. A simple one then. What has eighty-eight keys, but no lock?"

He repeats the riddle to himself, twice. Nothing comes.

"A... key... collector?" He gives you a sidelong glance – you have sealed your lips together. "You already know the answer, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Ravenclaws..."

You wait, presumably so he can attempt another answer, but in the end he crosses his arms, frustrated. "All right, I give up."

"It's a piano." You turn to him. "Keys, but not referring to door keys."

In hindsight, it's really obvious, but the damn eagle knocker smarts.

"Correct." The door opens. "You may enter. You," it looks pointedly at Garreth, "need to work harder."

Don't I know it. Garreth sticks out his tongue. Very mature. You let out a sharp laugh, which makes him smile.

"You'll get it next time," you say. "I'll see you next Monday?"

"Next Monday," he confirms.

He finds himself still smiling on the way back to Gryffindor. He'll solve one of those riddles one day, if only to prove he can.

And, maybe, to impress you.

Inspiration strikes near Halloween. A genius idea, if he does say so himself, for something so simple. A drink that makes you float off the ground, like a Fizzing Whizzbee. Fizzing Whizz-beer, even.

Yes, he thinks, that's very clever. Instead of listening to Professor Garlick's treatise on the properties of Venomous Tentacula, Garreth hunches over his planting station and scribbles some ideas for the concoction. He'll need a slew of ingredients. Firstly it has to taste good – so Mallowsweet and sherbet is a must. Standard ingredient to mesh it together, then some sort of acid and base, for fizz.

Then he'll need the key thing rumoured to make Fizzing Whizzbees. Dried Billywig stings.

Where's he going to get dried Billywig stings? They're a bit of a rare commodity, given that they have the ability to grant temporary levitation. He can't buy the ingredients at J Pippin's, not with his aunt enforcing a ban on his going to the village (for fear of doing the very thing he's doing right now, naturally).

The answer pops into his head. Honeydukes. They have tons of them, used in their own sweets. But then, of course, he'll need to sneak inside...

And for that, he needs an accomplice.

Aptly, the very girl he considers first is next to him, sat upright, hands on lap, patiently listening to Garlick's lecture. He leans over.

"Missy. Pssst."

Her expression doesn't change as she leans towards him. "What is it?"

"How would you like to be part of something extraordinary?"

"Depends on what that is."

Slytherins and needing details, ugh. "Would you be up to, ahem, grabbing a few more ingredients for me?"

She bolts upright exactly when Garlick turns to them – rather an unnerving ability of hers which probably has something to do with that strange magic now running through her veins. Garlick smiles sweetly, unaware of their conversation, and continues down the row, marvelling on Tentacula leaf sizes. Missy leans to him again.

"The answer to your question," she says, "is no."

"No? You don't even know what I'm going to ask."

"I can read your parchment."

"I haven't written everything down."

"It literally says ask Missy to nick Billywig stings from Honeydukes."

Hmm. Perhaps nick was a strong word. "You nabbed the Fwooper feather from Sharp's office."

"And you got me in trouble for it."

"You get yourself into trouble all the time, need I remind you of, let's think... the entirety of last year?"

"Precisely why I'm trying not to this year," she says coolly. Merlin, her and her eerie composure. "Can't you do it?"

"'Course I can. I'm just asking you to accompany me. Give me an alibi if my aunt happens to notice I'm missing. I'll watch your back, you watch mine, you know?"

"You can't even watch your front," she says. "Why not ask someone else? Like Leander or Natty? Or Cressida?"

"None of them understand my talent for potions, Missy." And I don't want to drag them down if this goes horribly wrong. "They're above stealing."

"And I'm not?"

He arcs an eyebrow. She purses her lips.

"Just because I can doesn't mean I will. How about Everett?"

"That troll brain couldn't be sneaky to save his arse."

"Imelda?"

"I rather value my life, thank you."

"Gibby?"

"Would trip on her own feet before she even left her common room."

Missy scowls. "Well, I'm sorry, but it won't be me."

He groans – too loudly, as this time, Garlick does look over.

"Everything all right, Mr Weasley?"

"Everything's grand, Professor," he says, brooding. He doesn't have many options, if Missy won't do it.

Then lightning strikes a second time.

You could go with him.

Yes. This is a potion, after all, and you are but his acolyte, sponging knowledge from his inventive genius. He's determined not to make all his sessions laboratory-based, after all, just to doubly prove a point that a classroom isn't always the best place to learn. A trip down to Honeydukes would reinforce the memory of Billywig stings in your mind so hard, forgetting it for your O.W.L.s would be impossible.

And, bonus, he could dress it all up as a learning experience, and definitely not slacking.

So that Tuesday, a day before your session, he grabs you after dinner in the Great Hall.

"How would you like to have a fun session tomorrow?"

Your deadpan expression doesn't falter. "Your definition of fun is very different to mine."

"Honestly, why does no one trust me?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

"... No, obviously not." He leans closer to you – you smell of peppermint. "Bring a bag, wear comfortable clothes, and meet me in the third-floor corridor, five o'clock sharp."

"Before dinner?" Your bottom lip curls. "What are you planning?"

"I promise, it'll be brilliant."

He winks and leaves, not giving you the chance to say no.

You meet him in the third-floor corridor the next day, in typical you fashion, half an hour early. It's quite surprising to see you in casual clothes, a tidy blouse and cardigan, tweed breeches and sensible shoes, all beneath a plain cloak. Your reticule ropes around your shoulder, but for once, it doesn't bulge with books.

You frown. "What's wrong with your jumper?"

"Hmm? Oh." He tugs at it beneath his own cloak. "My mama knitted this for me. It's red wool."

"I can see that. I meant the... design?"

"It's a G. It stands for Garreth."

"Why does it look like a man hunched over the privy?"

"Hey, letters are hard, and I never said my mama was any good at knitting. Come on."

He takes you to the statue of the one-eyed witch. He taps his wand to it. "Dissendium." The witch swivels, revealing the dusty trap door beneath. You freeze when he kneels to open it.

"What exactly are we doing?"

A rush of stale air funnels out when the door swings opens to a ladder below. "We're going on a little adventure to grab a rare potion ingredient."

Your tightening face betrays panic as your gaze flickers between him and the rungs.

"Adventure? Garreth, I didn't agree to that."

"You agreed to our tutoring session. Time to broaden your perspective, Prim. No essays today."

"And where does this lead?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" You step back. "Oh no, I can't go."

"Why not?"

You bite your lip in the silence. It's a very odd gesture that for some reason makes his heart stammer.

"I don't have permission to go to Hogsmeade..."

"What." Another day, another question that's not a question. "What do you mean, you can't go to Hogsmeade? Wait, wait. Have you ever been?"

You are silent. Merlin's sweaty armpits.

"You can't have never been, Prim! How do you get stuff? Quills and books and potion ingredients?"

"I ask the teachers."

He scoffs. Auntie Matilda must have known. "You're definitely coming now. No, no objections, Prim."

"My parents—"

"Don't have to know. Unless there's a specific reason you can't go?" Silence again. "Are you allergic to, I don't know, village air?"

"No."

"Halloween cheer?"

"No."

"Other people?"

"Yes," you say, then remembering yourself, "But not actually, no."

"So then what are they afraid of?"

"They're just— protective."

His brow furrows. It's absurd really. He shouldn't question it. He knows he's lucky when it comes to family – that his have never cared about what he does in his free time so long as he does what he's meant to during his school time. You've mentioned your Muggle mother is jaded with the magic world, so maybe this is her superstitions coming into full force. She doesn't trust an entire village of wizards.

Though that doesn't explain why your Squib father is the same.

"Then," he insists, "we are going to have a great time having a little look around. I'll be with you so you don't have to panic about... whatever it is you're panicking about. We can't go to J Pippin's, of course – Parry Pippin would mount a Graphorn for the opportunity to snitch my whereabouts – but the Three Broomsticks, definitely. Sirona Ryan's a treat." When your brow crumples, he says again, "Nope, this is a non-optional adventure."

"But—"

"Too late, I'm kidnapping you."

And he offers his hand.

You stare at it like it's a foreign object, leaving him in this awkward limbo where his hand is just... hovering there, waiting. Something light dances behind your eyes, sweeping colour across your face, and you reach over, slip your fingers, warm and delicate, into his. He makes the first step down, testing the weight, as he always does – you never know when this old thing will break – and it holds.

"Mind your step."

"This doesn't look safe."

"It's safer than a spider's den."

"That bar is so low it's in Australia, Garreth."

He hits the ground, followed shortly by your graceful alight, and dust swirls up at the disturbance. The trap door shuts, and he hears the grind of the witch's statue clanking back into place.

"Lumos." Your wand tip lights, and your face comes back into view as you take in the sight of the stone staircase. "What's this ingredient we're getting, then?"

"Dried Billywig stings."

"A Billywig's sting makes you giddy," you recall, "then makes you float."

"That's right."

"Wait." You clasp his arm – the touch surprises him. "You're getting it from the sweet shop?"

"Yep."

"But— you can't buy it, surely?"

Ah, yes. When he asked you to come along, he hadn't exactly thought about the intense cardinality of your moral compass. "Well, no, but I promise they won't miss them."

Your eyes go round. "You're stealing?"

"Goodness, Prim, I'm not robbing Gringotts! They have loads, won't even notice a handful are missing." You glare at him, making him wince. "I'll leave a Sickle on the counter, all right? I really need them—"

"For what?"

"A new potion I'm making! Beverage, really." He grimaces harder as your glare intensifies. "It's a Fizzing Whizzbee drink! Or, as I like to call it... Fizzing Whizz-beer."

You continue to stab him with eye daggers, completely unaffected by his extremely clever pun.

"So this isn't a Potions revision session, is it?"

"Is too. What potions use Billywig stings? If you can answer that, I'll let you go, on my honour."

But you are silent, and he knows he's got you.

"If it'll make you feel better," he suggests, continuing on down the steps, "I'll let you quiz me on Divination questions as we go."

It doesn't seem to assuage your doubts, but it does distract you enough that you pad after him, cautious of where you place your feet. You fire off questions Garreth only half-heartedly attempts to answer until, beyond the broken lift shaft, the rocky path tapers into a promontory over a deep cavern. The bridge here last time lies in a wrecked heap on the cavern's wet floor, far, far below.

He peers down at it, suspicious. "This a lot more... treacherous than I remember."

You squint at the other end of the splintered walkway, protruding over the gap.

"Do tell."

"Your sarcasm is noted and not appreciated."

"Do you know the spell to repair it?"

He pouts. "I'm not that incompetent." He takes out his wand. "Reparo!"

The pieces whirl back into place. Garreth feels good about the way your eyebrows dance in mock surprise. You test the build with a toe, pressing onto the wood cautiously, then stride over to the other side.

He preens as he strides after you. "See? I can do Charms."

"Not that incompetent," you say, with a tone that might be a little wry. "Your words."

"Hey, only I can parrot myself back to me. Unless I'm complimenting myself, in which case, feel free to copy."

Your lips quirk, which sends another flutter of pride through him. He likes that he can do that, make you smile, especially since you're usually so frosty. Like a great hurdle has been overcome between you. He follows you down the bridge, whistling Ernie Lark's tune – which you quickly decide is the most annoying song ever, and if he would kindly stop you would be most appreciative, which of course he doesn't – before you meet another three felled bridges, this time overlooking an abyss of damp earth, brimming with silty ditchwater.

"Why has this place been destroyed?"

"Good question. No idea."

"Don't you come down here frequently?"

"Not if I can help it. I don't need to sneak into Hogsmeade when my parents have already given me permission, remember. It's only because I'm technically under watch that I have to go this way. Last person probably wanted to use it as hex practice."

"How did you find out about it?"

"My cousins Leon and Hector. They knew every nook and cranny in this school. Could make a map if they really wanted."

He repairs the bridges one by one, and you cross each with apprehension. He should probably feel offended that you don't trust him, but, well, the wood is mossy and rotting, even after repairs – nasty – so it's no wonder you're so antsy. He's been here plenty of times though, so it doesn't concern him in the slightest.

You reach another tunnel, carved through the rock face, as he steps off the bridge behind you. Something scurries by your feet, and you shriek.

"A rat! A rat!"

Without thinking he thrusts out his wand.

"Fera Verto!"

Direct hit. The rat warps into a goblet, clattering onto the ground.

"Look at me go," he says. "A Transfiguration spell!"

You hoist a sigh, say, "W-Well done," and come to stand next to him, close enough that your peppermint scent threads through. "I'm glad you have been listening."

He puffs out his chest. "My aunt will be so pleased."

"I mean, that was a second-year spell, so..."

"Let me bask in my victory a minute, won't you?" he mutters. "Not a fan of spiders, and now not a fan of rats?"

"Who is? Wait. Don't say yourself."

"Come on, have you seen them nibbling cheese? It's adorable!"

You roll your eyes.

When the stone wall comes upon you, he sets the braziers to light, opening a crack in the door, and ushers you through. The end of the passage – a ladder leads to the surface, and the Honeydukes cellar. He climbs up and peers through the trapdoor first, into the darkness of the storeroom. "Coast is clear."

"All right." You seem to remember yourself then, and ripple with displeasure. "I can't believe I'm condoning theft."

He makes a show of taking out a Sickle and waggling it in front of you. "Not stealing if I pay for it."

He climbs into the storeroom and offers his hand to help you up, and your touch crackles through his palm again, making his stomach swoop. Strange. He enjoys the look on your face as you take in the place around him, the shelves upon shelves of sweets, jarred confections, crates that hum, bottles that pop and giggle, the sweetness and tang in the air, the pastel and neon packaging. He spots the dried Billywig stings immediately and pockets a few, making sure to place the Sickle in a visible spot. Hopefully the proprietor Patrick Redding won't be too mad about it – a Sickle for three stings is definitely overpaying, and it's not like he's flush with gold, here.

"You have your stings, then," you say. "How do you propose we leave the storeroom without being caught?"

He grins. "I do have an idea."

"... Why do I get the impression I won't like this idea?"

"It involves acting."

"Garreth," you chide, with a little fleck of fear too. "I... I can't—"

"Trust me, you won't have to say a word. He'll have no clue." He tugs you to the backdoor. "Now, I need you to ruffle yourself up a bit. Make yourself look dishevelled."

He starts doing that to himself, raking his hand through his hair, unbuttoning his shirt collar, bunching up his cloak. You copy him, unsure, and when you're done, he thumps the door. Hard.

"What? Garreth—"

He lifts his hands. "May I?"

"May you what?"

"Touch you?"

"Touch— what?"

"Better be quick, Prim. He'll be coming by now."

The handle rattles. You look panicked.

"Fine, yes—"

And he pulls you in until you're flush against him, until there's no space between you. He can feel the way your body curves against his – there's a surprising suppleness to you, to your waist beneath his fingers, to your chest, moulding with his. As your face closes on his, your breaths cloud together, only for a second, long enough for him to detect peppermint again, for his stomach to plunge into his legs. Your eyes dart between his, surprised, and your face lights up—

The door opens. Patrick Redding splutters when he sees you both, and Garreth immediately pushes you away.

"Mr Redding! So sorry, sir. We were just—"

"What in Merlin's name— Mr Weasley?" His eyes slide to you, but of course, he doesn't recognise you at all. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

"Well, sir," Garreth says, smiling bashfully, "when a pretty girl asks you to take her somewhere private..."

Mr Redding makes a disgruntled noise and ushers you forwards. "No, no, I don't want know. Out, both of you. And have some decorum, please!"

You barely get the chance to take in the sight of Honeydukes before Redding shoos you out the front door, depositing you onto the high street. Its quiet out, the sky a dark bowl above, flecked with winter stars, and the square is lit with strings of lanterns that glow golden pools on the cobblestones. A very romantic sight, and a perfect first impression.

"Huzzah!" Garreth says, quite proud of himself. He throws up his cowl in case anyone might recognise him. "Told you it would work. Hope he doesn't snitch to Auntie, mind, but I don't think he will, because then he'd have to explain that a student snuck into his stockroom to snog— Prim?"

He notices, then, how deeply your face is awash with colour. How you can't look him in the eye. His gaze travels to your hands, knitted together, restless by your waist. Your very nice waist. He immediately questions the thought, because, first of all – nice waist? Merlin. Second of all, he shouldn't be thinking such things at all. Especially not about you.

"I— you—" You cross your arms, turn away. "Why didn't you tell me that was your plan?"

"Because you'd never have agreed to it."

"Well... yes, but— but you didn't have to hold me so close."

"I think he'd be suspicious if we weren't close, Prim."

"Yes, but— think about what he must think now!"

"He doesn't even know who you are!"

"Yes, but— ugh, never mind!"

"What?" He wiggles his eyebrows. "Did you enjoy being handled in my lordly grasp?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

He laughs, and likes to believe you're lying, just a little. If you've never had friends, after all, he doubts you've ever courted. You huff and keep distance between you, and his stomach flutters as his eyes go back to your waist again.

The feel of you... it lingers.

"Nonetheless, my plan worked." Dispelling the frivolous thoughts, he grins and opens his arms. "So welcome to Hogsmeade, Prim."

Your face softens as you take in the sights. There's only two hours before Honeydukes closes for the evening, so he gives you quick version of the patented Garreth Weasley tour – less of the history, more of a rundown about the best places to hide for pranks, where the teachers frequent, and where the Dark wizards go, and ergo where you should avoid. You only contribute once or twice to conversation, but you absorb the cosy atmosphere, the crooked buildings and crazy, cranky peoples, your attention wholly taken. Annoyingly he can't read whether you're enjoying yourself. There aren't many students out, owing to how late it is and the fact that it's a weekday. As the grand finale he takes you to the Three Broomsticks, conscious of how both his and your stomachs rumble. He'll have to fork out more Galleons for food, yes, but it'll be worth it.

"Late out, Garreth?" Sirona greets him when you walk in, rising from a table she's scrubbing. "You should be going back soon, shouldn't you?"

"Was just showing my new friend Prim around."

"Ah," she says warmly, and smiles at you. "Didn't think I recognised you. Welcome to the Three Broomsticks, Prim."

"It's not Prim," you say quickly, shooting him a glare. "It's actually—"

"A round on me, Sirona," Garreth interjects, batting his eyelids at you as you fume. "My treat, because Prim's never been to Hogsmeade before."

"Never been? Well, then you have an excellent tour guide. Garreth knows all the best hotspots." Sirona heads around the counter as you both take a seat. "You can have a Butterbeer each on me today."

"Ever had Butterbeer?" he asks you, as Sirona prepares the drinks.

"No," you say, earnest and slightly fearful. "It looks very... sweet."

"It is. You'll love it."

You don't love it. In fact, you hate it, wincing so hard you choke when the first sip goes down your throat.

"That's revolting."

He shrugs and pulls your tankard over. "More for me!"

You sigh and sink down into your chair, and he sobers. A blue aura permeates you.

"Hey," he says, quieter now, "you're enjoying yourself, right?"

It takes you a moment to answer. "Yes."

"But you're worried."

"I'm worried."

"You'll be fine. Your parents aren't here. Seems kind of mean that they won't give you permission."

"It's not that simple."

"Why?"

"It's just not." You lean forwards, frustrated. "Are you going to tell me what potions use dried Billywig stings then, or not?"

You seem to do that a lot, change the subject when things get too heated. He lets it go, because you're having a nice evening and he doesn't want to spoil it, but still... what's not so simple about letting you come to Hogsmeade? As long as you know where to avoid, the place is harmless.

"Well," he says, leaning forwards as well, spinning his drink around. "Think about it. Billywig stings cause giddiness and levitation, right? So what potion do you think it would be used in?"

"A potion that would induce dizziness?"

"If you mean Dizziness Potion, then yes, but you're missing the big one."

"... Floating Potion?"

"Try again."

"I... don't know."

He plucks his eyelids. "Wide-Eye!"

"Wide-Eye? Why?"

"... Why-de?"

"Garreth."

"It wakes you up. Makes you giddy."

He orders a bowl of fried squid, some chips and, because you insist, a garden salad, and you share it over revision chatter – A. K. A., you asking him for answers he doesn't know to questions he doesn't understand. After a while, he notices you relax, less vigilant about glancing around, paying better attention to him and his wayward conversation topics.

But the night can't last, and when the clock strikes quarter-to-seven, fifteen minutes before Honeydukes closes, you clear the table.

"We should go back."

He downs the rest of the Butterbeers – he feels it sloshing in his stomach, gross – and shoves the rest of the nibbles in his mouth, then calls his thanks to Sirona as he heads outside after you, pulling up his cloak hood.

When he gets to Honeydukes however, with ten minutes to spare, he finds Mr Redding has been all too proactive in preventing another unfortunate encounter in his stockroom again, as the door is now well and truly padlocked. Garreth tugs at it when Redding is distracted by customers.

"Dragon dung," he mutters, as you keep an eye out. "It's locked tighter than Azkaban."

You frown. "Are you a wizard or what?"

"Encouraging breaking and entering, Prim? You surprise me."

"Just hurry. I really don't want to get caught."

He draws his wand. "Alohomora."

The lock doesn't budge. Ah.

"We may have a problem."

You glance over as he tries again, and panic overrides you. "It doesn't work?"

"It has an advanced Locking charm that I can't break."

Something wars on your face before, "Switch with me, quick."

He swaps places just as he catches a flash of Redding's hair from behind the candy floss machine. Coming towards them. He nocks his wand, sending a basic cast at a jar of hardboiled Noisy Treats, which sends it crashing to the floor, piercing the air with a zoo of lion growls and elephant toots. Redding doubles-back, cursing – but for how long?

"I don't know what you're going to do," Garreth mutters, "but you need to do it now."

But you're already waving your wand in a complicated, impossible-to-copy pattern. "Alohomora Perplexitas."

The lock hisses, as if resisting, but then the hook gives way. You grab his arm and yank him inside, and clamber into the secret passage before Redding spots the busted padlock. The darkness and silence is sudden, though his heart beats like a drum.

"You have been keeping secrets," he murmurs, when you light the passage. "You know advanced lock-picking spells?"

"Advanced unlocking spells," you correct. "Come on."

He easily keeps up with your marching along. "Not going to tell me how you know an advanced unlocking spell, then? Or more importantly, why?"

"No."

"I mean, I think a slight explanation is owed."

"I just know it."

"How mysterious. Are you secretly a cat burglar? Little hypocritical of you to be calling me out for stealing."

You stomp over a rock. "I've never stolen anything."

"Then why—"

"I'm not going to tell you, Garreth," you snap, "so stop asking. Please."

Oh. That stings a little. "All right then. Forget I asked."

The silence after that isn't so companionable. He mulls over it as you cross the bridges, unyielding in your fervent pace. You seem determined not to look in his direction at all, because you know as well as he does that the whole knows complicated lock-picking spells is suspicious as a Niffler in Gringotts. It's clear that, whatever the reasons for your proclivity for the prohibited, he doesn't want to end what has been a fun evening on a sour note. As you go to cross the last bridge before the lift shaft, he hurries to catch you.

"Prim—"

You stamp down. The bridge groans suddenly – then, without warning, it collapses, and you're falling. He acts on instinct, grabbing your arm, digging his foot for purchase as the rotten planks splash onto the ground far below. Wand lost, as well as the light, you hang, the darkness so thick he can only see the whites of your eyes, wide in fear.

"G-Garreth—"

"I've got you."

He hauls you up a little too hard, and you stagger into him. His hands end up on your waist again – Merlin, him and his stupid instinct – and you quickly step back.

"T-Thank you. I thought we repaired the bridge?"

"I— thought so too." It was a brief touch on a girl's waist, Weasley, get it together. "The wood here is pretty decayed, though. Guess it's not particularly stable even if we repair it."

He draws his wand to light the place, then summons yours from the depths. You repair the bridge this time, but hesitate to cross it. "I don't trust this anymore."

"Well then, time for another lesson!" He slips his hand into his bag and pulls out, to your shock, a potion bottle. "Prepare to be amazed!"

He winds his arm back and flings, and the bottle explodes all over the bridge – turning it to stone.

"All right, that should last us approximately, hmm... five seconds."

"What?"

He grabs your arm. "Go, go, go!"

Together you hurtle across the bridge, you shrilling. It holds, rock clacking beneath his boots, and by the time you're both on the other side, the stones peel back into wood, groaning from the transformation.

"What was that?" you shriek, rattled, taking your arm back. "You have potions in your bag?"

"A great potioneer never comes unprepared. That," he says, grinning, "was my version of an Edurus potion. Know what that does?"

"I have an inkling that it turns things into stone."

"It gives the drinker a stone-like skin, yes, and boosts their durability. My adaptation turns objects into stone. Granted, it doesn't last very long. Think I need more Ashwinder eggs..."

You hug your arm. "I-I'm sorry."

"Er, I know you're smart, Prim, but I don't expect you to know everything."

"No," you say, flushing again, "I mean, for... for snapping. I... didn't mean to snap. Well, I did, but..."

His eyebrows rise. Colour him surprised, you apologising for something? He thinks for a millisecond about teasing you for it, but then he registers your face again, that injured expression and downcast eyes, refusing to look his way, and the retort tumbles back down his throat.

"No harm done, Prim. I shouldn't have prodded." Instead, he smiles. "Now come on, let's get out of here."

You don't say anything, but even in the waning light of the tunnel, he catches a hint of your grateful smile.

You ascend the lift shaft without complication and hurry back up the steps. When he reaches the ladder, he taps his wand to the trap door above and mutters "Dissendium," again to move the statue before opening the door, and offering a hand to help you back out. In the natural light, you look a right state, dishevelled but for real this time, and he imagines so does he.

"Well, that was fun," he says, dusting himself off. "Looks like I was right, wasn't I?"

"About what?"

"Near-death experiences."

You scoff. "That was hardly near-death, was it?"

"Not what your face said when you dropped off that bridge."

He stares at you. You stare at him.

And to his surprise, you crack a genuine smile, and let out a single – single – chuckle.

"I suppose there is something to be said about near-death and... and being friends."

That fills him with a distinct sense of joy.

... Which gets stolen one breath later.

"Out revising, were you?"

He freezes. Spins around. By the doors, Professor Weasley waits with her arms crossed and her lips a thin line. Her gaze travels down you both, your very non-studying clothes, the dirt on his cheeks and hair, the torn knees of your trousers.

Oh Merlin, he's so dead.

"Auntie!" He pries a grin from somewhere inside. "What brings you here?"

She doesn't fall for it, not even for a second. "Honestly, Garreth, you weren't subtle, coming out of the passage."

"What passage? I don't know what passage you mean."

"Who do you think your cousins learnt it from, hmm? Because I can tell you, just because I'm a professor now doesn't mean I wasn't a student before." Her stringent gaze diverts to you. "And I admit I'm most surprised at you, Miss—"

"We were studying, Professor," you say, with all the grace of a ballet dancer. "I know it doesn't seem it..."

"It looks like you skipped dinner to take a trip to Hogsmeade. Which I remember barring you from doing, Garreth."

But you're quick. "We skipped dinner, yes, but we only went into the passage."

He glances sidelong at you, trying to hide his surprise at your total composure.

"I was having Garreth practice his Transfiguration there, since there are plenty of rats, and I thought his Fera Verto could do with some work." The lie unfurls from your tongue with such practice, he could swear you wrote it beforehand. "Garreth, on the other hand, was testing my potions knowledge."

"Yeah," he says, catching on. "Billywig stings?"

"Cause giddiness and levitation. Used in Dizziness and Wide-Eye potions."

"Edurus potion?"

"Gives the drinker a stone-like skin. Has Ashwinder eggs."

"See?"

Matilda's sternness doesn't waver. "Whose idea was this?"

Garreth laughs sheepishly. "If I said it was only my idea if you like it, would you be mad?"

She stares for one second, two.

Then softens.

"I only want to suggest a more formal approach to your tutoring sessions, please. Stick to Hogwarts grounds." She doesn't include what she really means: to stay where she can keep an eye. "I'll ask the house elves to bring you some supper to your dorm rooms. Don't let me catch you doing this again."

"Yes, Professor."

She hovers for another moment before she goes, and all the tension exhales from Garreth's chest.

"That was close." And Merlin's beard, this girl is a good liar. His gaze slides to you, stone-stiff – but it's too late, he perceives you anew again. "Can't act, hmm?"

You flush. "I can't act. I only lie when I have to—"

"They're basically the same thing!"

"— and I was telling the truth. I did recite ingredient properties, and you did practice Fera Verto." Your face deepens in colour. "I didn't want to get in trouble, all right?"

"So you know how to do a complex Unlocking charm and you can just roll out a lie when you need to? Really starting to believe this whole cat burglar persona you have."

"I'm not a cat burglar."

"Then what are you?"

"No one." He doesn't believe that, and you know he doesn't. "I've had enough excitement for one night. I'm going back to my dorm."

"Prim." You halt, and he says with sincerity, "Thank you for covering for me." He quirks his lip. "Or covering for yourself, and inadvertently covering for me, too."

Your eyes dart between his again, and he remembers that slip of a moment in Honeydukes, the both of you intertwined, your surprise just as intriguing.

"You're welcome," you say quietly. You bow your head. "And— thank you. For showing me around today. I... had fun."

"Good. We should do it again some time." He grins. "You'll be the first to taste my Fizzing Whizz-beer when it's ready."

You shake your head, turning to go again. "If it's anything like Butterbeer, I think I'll pass."

It is, quite possibly, the highest praise you'll ever give.

[PREV] [Next chapter soon <3] [Divider credit]

[faewildif]

May i ask how long will we be playing as child MC POV?

I kinda digging how our MC is coming from a loving and protective family with no ill will what so ever ( if u don't count lying about our origin part that is, Whoopsie....)

Just chapter one, it goes a bit more in depth as to how exactly MC is raised and presented to the court. Your parents plot to make you heir far before the lords suspect they'll actually do so.

It's also discussed why they have no more biological children soon in part two. When you're around 4 it is brought up, but they decide not to. They know it would invalidate any claim you had to the throne. Lesae also had a pretty traumatic first birth and doesn't want to do it again since she has no reason to.

[kinzuti]

Shout out to all these authors & fanfics

Murder Drones ver.

I swear I feel like fanfics are part of my daily life now. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Hey, least I get my daily reading in I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but you’re not here to ponder read about that. You’re here to see some shout outs.

P.S I’m not very descriptive so apologies for that. I just wanted to shout out some of these fanfics and authors because I visit their fanfics about almost every single day so I just thought “oh why the hell not. I’m just going to blog about it.”

Authors & Works

Lady Daybreaker

Oh my god I love their work series Ad Astra Per Aspera it’s just so good. And I’m going to be honest, this series is the reason why I love Nori now so much now it’s not funny. The series just adds more to the story for Murder Drones and again, I love it so much that I join their server. Never interact on their though because I am a bit of a coward I guess. If you want to see more to the story I’d suggest checking their MD fanfics.

Solgalleta

At first, I wasn’t very interested in most of their fanfics (mostly because crossover stuff) till I just told myself to give them a shot because why not. Their description for their stories were so interesting and intriguing that I just had to. And now, they’re the reason why I am interested in Monster Hunters now and I may try to get one of the games or such. So far I’ve read Beauty And The Monster, In The Ring series, Muted Manor, Little Purple Riding Hood And The Big Bad Stygian Zinogre, Sugar Spun Straight From Hell, To Guard A Goddess, Kaiju Girl Uzi, & Distorted Deals.

I do want to try to read more of their past works which I am going to try to do soon. These works were all just so good, if you’re interested in crossovers like Pokémon or Monster Hunter, or just interesting concepts outside of the Murder Drones universe. Then check their stories out!

InspiredDragonWriter

The first work I’ve ever read from them was I believe Sure!You Can Date Our Mama! Which augh/pos it’s really good so far and I adore the lil cuties in the fanfic already. I’m more of an Nuzi fan myself but I also adore InspiredDragonWriters ver. of Sam that I ship SmokeyBats (Sam/Uzi) now. I know what it’s like to love a random character so much in the background of the show/game/etc that I start to make up what their personality and interests are. I won’t say who that random character is but I will say their not from Murder Drones ha.

I’ve also read One Night, A Promise And A Whoopsie-Daisy which there is only one chapter as of now but I love it so much that I had to mention it. I’d suggest checking these works out when you can and want too ofc.

GameCube19

GameCube, oh my god. What have you gotten yourself into/pos. So far the only works they’ve posted are Broken Balance and Broken Balance Specials which go together. And my god, I did expect this work to go up to 111 chapters. 111. I started reading when it was only 11 chapters in. I am predicting at this point that this work will reach up to 1M words tbh, right now it’s word count is at 724,206. Anyways that’s not the point. What I want to say about this work is that I love it. I love the story, how long it is, the concepts, just wow. I mean, this can basically be its own story at this point. Loved it so much that I joined their server. If you’re interested in a Fantasy AU of Murder Drones I’d suggest reading it.

Astrachigo

First thing I’ve read from them is The Royals Blood which is so good I love it. It’s a vampire/royalty AU which is mmm, so good. Then To Be Heard came out which I am obsessing over because I have this knack for mute AU’s which I don’t know why but I just do. I also love the fact that Uzi and N in this work love and make music. Music is just part of my daily life I cannot go through a day without listening to a song or 10. I’ve also read “I Am Always There For You.” Which is also good. If you’re interested in these, please go check them out!

Daarkxwolf17

I’ve only read one work from them and I LOVE it and it’s concept. It’s so unique and sooo good. It’s called The Angel My Mother Sent Me. And I’ve been listening to the playlist they’ve made based off the story and now I have a few new favourite songs and a new playlist saved in my Spotify. Their art of the fic too is just muah so good. If you’re interested in guardian angels or just that type of concept I guarantee you will love this fic.

CoffeeTheDragon

Now remember when I said that I- *Searches through my tabs* okay why is it not here?! GOD DAMNI- *Spends 5 minutes looking for it again and saving it to my tab group* Ahem, now, remember when I said I had a knack for mute AU’s (Muted Minor and To Be Heard) well here’s another one. Blinding Steps Of Places Long Forgotten (FireBitten) I absolutely obsessed over this fic when I first found out about it. It’s interesting title, another mute AU, and Uzi having cute fluffy bat ears. Yep, she has bat ears and I love it. Read it if you please.

Spero11

There is one work of Murder Drones they made and it is called By Chance and I only started reading it like 2 weeks ago. Oh my god. I love it so much, it’s great, it’s adorable, and I just want them (N and Uzi) to be happy pls. I’m a bit mad at myself for not taking the chance sooner to read it. It’s so good, go check it out if you love Streamer AU’s.

HeyTiny

They’ve only posted one work of Murder Drones called Bus Stop but it’s so good. It’s been so adorable so far and it’s a songfic which I believe means it’s inspired by a song. I’m going to try to listen to it eventually. Go check it out if you can.

Electrozeitsyking/SkipBack

I love this persons Ghost Drone AU please go check that AU out but they also have some other great AU’s in other fandoms which I have seen briefly. Love their art too. They also have this fic related to the Ghost Drone AU which is called Ghost Drone so if you’ve seen their artwork on their ghost AU and love it please go check out the fanfic they’ve made! If you want to ofc.

WolfHeart87

Okay so if you know and follow kklog then you may remember this post based off thecosmiccrows headcanon. And if you loved that post and loved the concept of DD’s acting like birds then you may love Courtship Rituals of a Disassembly Drone written by the author mentioned above. It’s so adorable and as soon as I saw a fic inspired by that post I had a huge rush of serotonin and immediately read the fic. Go read it if you loved the post kklog made.

———————————————————————

That’s basically it as for now. I swear there are more fics I want to mention so I may just edit more in later. It’s like midnight for me right now when I finish this so tbh. I may just wake, realise I posted this, and ponder wether or not to delete it haha. I may not though because I don’t want all this work to go to waste plus I do want to mention these works and share them because I just absolutely love them, I know I said that multiple times but I really do.

I look back to see if they update and it makes my day just to reread them or just read the new chapters when they come out. I really do feel like fan fiction has taken over my life lol. But eh, I don’t think that’s to much of a bad thing :)

If I made some mistakes just let me know and I’ll edit it.

[your-local-grinning-cat]

Happy Pride Month Tulgey Wood Watchers! 😸🏳️‍🌈

So, I was inspired by @b0njourbeach’s current Pride series and decided to to treat you all to two edits today! One of Che’nya and one of AR.

This is with their permission, I asked and they gave the go ahead. They made a nonbinary Che’nya edit for their still on-going series, and they also make other very fun/funny twst photo edit series. I def recommend checking out their blog. I adore Che’nana. 🤣

I chose to do two different edits. One focused on sexuality and one focused on gender! Also, I did both these photo edits on my phone so please forgive me for them being not as good as they could be, especially Che’nya’s hair and earrings. 😭

I will also preface this by reminding everyone this is just my headcanon for the Che’nya on this blog!

Putting this under a cut because explaining my headcanons for Che’nya got a little long! 😁

Anyway, I think we all know at this point that my Che’nya is not heterosexual. Neither is AR! However, while Che’nya is pansexual, AR could almost be considered the exact opposite, hilariously enough.

AR is asexual!

What you didn’t think I would be doing a face reveal for this did you? 🤭

If I had to decide which kind I am out of space, cake, dragon, and garlic bread… I would probably go with garlic bread ace tbh. Dragon ace is a very close second though. 😂

Now, while AR considers themselves cisgender but goes by they/them on this blog (but is also just ????? on their gender overall because gender is hard wtf 😵‍💫) Che’nya is not cis!

Surprise! It’s a he! It’s a she! It’s a they! It’s a zey! It’s a cat!

It’s Che’nya! And he is genderfluid!

And yes, the flag is represented a bit upside down… well that would be because Che’nya got dressed in the Looking Glass world. Whoopsies! 😹

Now, you may be wondering, if Che’nya is genderfluid, why does he use he/him pronouns basically all the time? That’s because, while I chose to edit him as genderfluid, his identity actually goes a bit deeper than that.

See, Che’nya doesn’t care what gender he identifies as, or what he is perceived as, or what pronouns are given. If you address Che’nya as her, then she’ll roll with it. She doesn’t care. Why would she? She’s still Che’nya. The same applies if you address her as them. They simply continue as they were - which is usually causing mischief and trouble. They do tend to do that. Call zem out on something? Do you really think that will stop zem? Zey could not care less.

However, while Che’nya is genderfluid, his identity could be further classified as a subset of genderfluid - demifluid. Meaning, one part of his gender is static while other parts are fluid.

Now, generally this static part is nonbinary, but it can be binary, and for Che’nya it is. Because, going even further?

Che’nya is a demifluid boy.

Which means the one part of his gender that is static, that sticks with him more, is his more masculine side.

Basically, to put it simply, he’s genderfluid, but masculine leaning.

Which is why, most of the time, he goes by he/him pronouns and that is what he defaults to. But for the most part?

Che’nya is just vibin and having fun! 👍

Happy Pride everyone!

😸🏳️‍🌈

[rebelliousstories]

Idunno if I can request but…

May I ask for a Gambit x Reader who’s into sharks and whales and has a big obsession with them that they could yap abt small trivial facts and often takes Gambit out to aquarium dates or sumn or just loves sharks so much that they have anything shark related or documentaries saved in vhs tapes or whatever to rewind and watch when they feel like it bc “sharks funny hehe”

I’m so sorry it took this long but I really loved making this. As someone who really loves sharks, shark week, and anything to do with them, I may have added a bit of myself to the reader… Whoopsie!

Shark Week is now available

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesdaypost year in review

this year brought to you by viewers like you. thank you! i still do not know how to thank everyone for their incredible generosity during the Late July/Early August Moving Catastrophe Badtimes and im still feelin some kinda way about it. thank you.

took eight weeks completely off, more than any other year so far

overnight traveled for work for the first time

moved cross country with Mack to face dangers untold and hardships unnumbered

bought an actual for-real couch and not a futon

got Phil

(unrelated to Phil) i got spayed after almost ten years of begging and pleading various medical professionals, (also unrelated) got covid and RSV back to back

listening

fallow weeks: 8. i almost always have a tuesdaysong bc i am almost always listening to something. all of the tuesdaysongs are here:

particular favorites were Peel Me A Grape (Anita O’Day), top spotify song of the year Yeah Yeah Yeah (Blood Orchid), Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Wolf remixed by Sextile, Father Finlee (Spence Hood), A Minha Menina (Os Mutantes).

the very last tuesdaysong of the year is Sugar Rum Cherry by Duke Ellington, one of the few christmas songs i tolerate.

special shoutout to the austin underscore walker universe of podcasts, bc i mainlined A More Civilized Age (clone wars/star wars rewatch) while packing, and devoured P/alisade (the newest scifi season of F/riends at the Table) this month.

-

reading

fallow weeks: 11. pleased that i am killing the invisible rules in my head and including more articles instead of feeling guilty about Not Reading A Real Book!!! every week when i sit down to write the tuesdaypost. read a fuckton earlier this year bc i was procrastinating moving prep, have not read much since i moved.

article sources:

inoreader (the best free RSS feed/app imo)

The Markup (gold standard usage of data to show how various technologies are being used to harm the public good: you may have heard of the recent American bills to equalize internet service and fix organ donation grift. that was them)

Web 3 Is Going Just Great (crypto disasters)

404 Media (technology reporting, internet culture, also break a lot of data/legal/privacy scandals)

Remap (formerly Vice's video games division Waypoint, more active on podcasts and twitch but do have great personal essays about gaming longreads)

Retraction Watch (an important academic service but platformed a particularly virulent transphobe and let the comments devolve into a free for all. yes im still mad about this)

Krebs on Security (~once a month extremely long and thoughtful infosec writeups)

Data Colada (cover academic data whoopsies, currently being sued for their journalism)

the two authors i spent the most time with this year were Alexis Hall (romance novels and novellas) and Raymond Chandler's noir detective novels. i read 90% of Raymond Chandler's work in march and went insane about yet another sad bisexual man. Philip Marlowe the cat is named after his pet detective, the human Philip Marlowe.

march was kind of a banger for this category bc in one of what i consider the best tuesdayposts this year, i tried to break down why i fucking hated Frank Miller's Sin City comics so much.

other comics, but ones i loved: Spy X Family, Berserk, weird noir DC miniseries The Human Target.

-

watching

fallow weeks: 10

notable stuff i watched for the first time (according to letterboxd) that will stick in my head for a bit. some (The Night of the Hunter) i am so glad i watched once but do not feel the need to revist. some (Slipstream) fascinate me with how good they could have been. some (Twilight. all of them) were fun bc of the people i watched them with. the two i went particularly deranged over are The Big Sleep and Day of Anger. still feel very normal about them.

very heavy on crime and courtroom films this year!

television: very excited for s2 of Blue Eye Samurai, Interview With The Vampire, Spy X Family.

i should loop back and finish Black Lagoon, Adventure Time (completely forgot i rewatched most of that this spring), and The Big O. that last one is throwing me a little bc (since i last checked) there is no freely available version with subtitles (i cannot find subtitles Period) and i'll be damned if i have to import a dvd. i can find the dub with subtitles but! i want to hear spike spiegel as mecha-batman :(

sort of lukewarm eh-i'll-get-around-to-it about s/tar wars shows. i have not watched a/hsoka At All or wrapped up the animated Resistance show. i'll pay attention when ando/r is airing again.

-

playing

fallow weeks: 10. way fewer than i would have guessed!

the trouble with this category is that it is exceptionally hard to find new good games (either ones i already own or ones that are free). it is almost completely prohibitively exhausting to trawl through the free category on steam. there's simply a lot of cruft out there. a very good thing (but also incredibly timeconsuming thing) i started this year was throwing games into various folders so the eight bajillion libraries i have are less overwhelming. i can safely ignore 80% of my epic games library, for example. the itch.io library is a whole separate weekend project i think.

got back into genshin for good or for ill, which took up most of the back half of the year.

go play ABZU. i am no longer asking.

i would like to go back and finish the RPG Gamedec, un-softblock myself in the RPG Weird West, and finish the visual novel Dead Man's Rest. i think i stalled out in Call of Juarez: Gunslinger bc there was a mexican standoff that my reflexes are simply not fast enough for/too much to pay attention to. i am excited to pick up that spooky fishing simulator DREDGE when i have fun money again.

completely forgot i spent most of jan/feb/march being annoyed at fallou/t 4 but having some fun in Far Harbor, also forgot i spent an entire month playing through Wolfenstein: The New Order but i am not compelled to play through it again. it was fun! but like many games after one playthrough my time with it is done!

-

making

fallow weeks: 17 (unsurprising, pretty low energy year as a whole as i recovered from covid rounds 1 and 2 and the frankly insane stress of moving).

wrote exactly one fic: some matters at the heart of cowboy western snap shirts: why they are so and some of the implications of their being so, i would like to write more next year but i don't really have the brainpower. i hope this changes soon.

the baby blanket i started last year is still not done but the baby is still under a year so i have a very narrow window of time.

dyed some couch covers im still very pleased with

wrote an extremely long but very well received gallery wall guide

recipes: 12. sort of shocked by this? i am becoming an incrementally better cook and slowly finding recipes i both like and can successfully execute. found the fortitude to caramelize onions, for example. quick pickled red onions, for another thing. big year for protein or greens on top of beans and rice. faves included: cuban-style pork shoulder, hellofresh peruvian chicken, red lentil soup, white bean/kale/rice bowls

i would like to be less terrified about cooking fish. i would like to eat more fish.

and of course, the biggest project of all, acquired Phil. here is my very favorite photo ive ever taken of a cat