#owl opines

[sugargliderowl]

Did you watch Sanders Sides growing up? How’s your psych/philosophy/arts degree(s) going—

[oussamaooooooooo]

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[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 6 - J'ai Dansé Avec L'Amour

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none, really… some kissing and some awkwardness

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Well, this isn't the wedding yet, but it's them both dealing, rather awkwardly, with the idea of getting married as they grapple with their attraction to each other. The wedding will be the next chapter. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Montivilliers (just outside Le Havre), September 1939

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Eloise whispers into the inky blackness.

“What other choice do I have?” you whisper back, unwilling to admit how weirdly calm you are about the scheme.

You are lying in the spare room of Solène’s sister, Marie and her husband Jérôme’s cottage. Sharing the compact double bed, shoulders touching as you converse quietly. It must be after 2am. Benedict chivalrously insisted on taking the sofa downstairs despite being stuck on yours in Paris for the last few days.

“I still say we should find some forgers,” Eloise opines; you can hear the shrug in her tone. “You shouldn’t have to go through with a marriage to my brother just to escape.”

“It’s fine,” you placate, waving your hand dismissively, although likely unseen.

“What about Stanley?”

“I’m sure he will understand when I can eventually get home,” you fib.

There is a brief lapse into silence, and outside somewhere, an owl hoots.

“You know we may have to bribe someone to do this regardless, don’t you?” 

“What are you talking about?” you frown, turning your head to face her.

“There are rules about residency for French civil marriages, and you’ll need identification neither of you have with you, like birth certificates,” Eloise points out.

“Ohhh…” you stutter, feeling sheepish you didn’t even know that.

“Although… Jérôme is the mayor of Montivilliers…” Eloise offers thoughtfully. “And he is sleeping just through that wall…”

“He can marry us?” You’re unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

“If he’s willing to overlook a few things… yes… he could marry you in the Town Hall.”

Internally, you are celebrating even as you try to temper your excitement.

“Then, for my sake, let’s hope he is,” you answer, attempting to sound gravely concerned.

Eloise hums sleepily in response, and it’s your last words before she drops off. You lay awake for what seems like hours, staring up at the beam of moonglow on the whitewashed ceiling. A myriad fluttering in your stomach—a cautious optimism that this could work, a strange excitement at the thought of marrying Benedict, and a vague dread that your family could still be upset if it all works out. 

—

A light, dewy mist lingers in the garden outside the kitchen window as you sip coffee the following morning. A moment of solitary contemplation that has you considering a telegram to your family but deciding against it. Until you know if you can get out of the country, it seems pointless to make them more concerned than they already are.

“Dress shopping?” Eloise asks over a yawn as she plops into the seat next to you at the rustic wooden table in the kitchen, breaking your reverie. “For the wedding…” she adds when you frown nonplussed.

Oh.

“I, umm, was just going to use one I already have, to be honest. That off-white silk tea dress?”

Eloise cocks her head to the side in thought. “Hmm, that might just work - that can be your something old. I have a little faux fur stole you can wear to dress it up - something borrowed. I know you have some powder blue underwear, so we only need something new!” 

“You believe in that stuff?” you frown, taking a sip. It seems so anachronistic for her. You also decide not to ask how she knows about your underwear.

“I know it's not…” she leans in, likely worried about prying ears, mouthing the word ‘real’, before continuing at her regular volume, “...but best not to tempt fate,” she raises a pointed eyebrow, silently reminding you of what is at stake.

“Good point,” you concede as she gets up to grab some fruit.

“Your humble sage at your service,” she jests, taking a comedic bow. 

“But we still have to ask Jérôme…”

“Ask me what?” a genial, heavily accented booming voice rings out from the doorway.

“This one and my brother have gone and fallen in love,” Eloise explains, rolling her eyes. “The soppy idiots want to get married in France as soon as possible. I don't suppose you could help, could you? It would be their dream come true and so very romantic, non?” 

She appears to be piling on the theatrics, but you see that winning smile, the one she deploys whenever she manipulates an unsuspecting man to get her way. Sometimes, you swear it is almost too easy to navigate the world as an attractive Bridgerton.

“Pour vous, ma petit chou-fleur, peut-être…” he responds, an avuncular glint in his eye. It is evident from this interaction and the previous evening when you arrived that Marie and Jérôme have spent time with Eloise, likely in Paris with Solène.

“Merci Jérôme!” she celebrates, kissing his cheek as he affectionately chuckles. “Demain?” she adds cheekily.

“Mon dieu Eloise,” he exclaims as he grabs a croissant, “C'est très bientôt!”

You try to listen in as they rapid-fire converse in French, but you only follow along with every few words, maybe something about paperwork, but really, you are not sure. It mostly seems fond exasperation on Jérôme’s part, so you sit hopeful, just as Benedict wanders in.

“Ah, the other love bird!” Eloise cuts away from their chat. “I know you want to get married so quickly, but please do not make out too much in front of Jérôme!” she titters pointedly at Benedict, her eyes cutting from him to you.

Benedict seems to cotton on very quickly, and you startle as he leans down and brushes a featherlight kiss onto your cheek.

“Bon matin, mon amour,” he rumbles, his minty breath warm, causing goosebumps to break out over your arms.

“Morning, my love,” you whisper back stutteringly, the words almost tacky on your tongue, your mouth suddenly so dry. Your eyes meet, and it's the closest you have ever been, captivated by the tiny flecks of colour in his iris. He doesn't look away, and you seem unable. 

“Oh oui, je le vois, l'amour vrai… ” Jérôme mutters quietly across the room. “I will see what I can do,” he offers in English as you finally tear your eyes away, him giving you a nod before he takes his leave.

“Well done!” Eloise enthuses quietly with a big thumbs-up gesture once Jérôme has left the room. “Really convincing!” she adds before twirling out of the room with an apple jammed in her mouth.

“Sorry about that…” Benedict offers, a little flustered.

“No, please…” you can't think of anything else to say, almost tongue-tied as you replay his kiss on your cheek like a looping projector reel, wanting to add ‘do it again’, a tingle still lingering on your skin. 

There are a few beats of awkward silence where he seems on the precipice of saying something, but you are almost afraid to hear it, as if worried he wants to conjure an excuse to back out.

“I…I need to buy my something new!” you exclaim, jumping up and scurrying out of the room, leaving Benedict mildly perplexed about what that might even mean.

—

After a successful trip into Le Havre, where you and Eloise found your ‘something new’ - a pair of ivory Mary Janes that will complete your outfit - the day ends with Jérôme and Marie taking you all to a local restaurant. A delicious meal of many courses with flowing carafes of wine under the bright red canopy outside. It turns into one of those late nights with convivial conversation and bonding with strangers.

A band strikes up in the cobbled square, and after a few numbers, Jérôme drags Marie up to dance as the three of you cheer.

“Les tourtereaux!!” Jérôme exclaims after the song ends, gesturing for you and Benedict to join them on their makeshift dance floor.

“Non..non!” you protest, gesturing a no with your arms and laughing, a languid feeling in your bones from good food, drink and conversation.

But it appears he won't take no for an answer, and as Marie giggles and applauds, Jérôme marches over and grabs you both by the elbow, hauling you to your feet.

“Danse!” he commands.

You and Benedict exchange slightly nervous looks but emboldened by wine; then you gasp as a strong arm wraps around your back, and your other hand slides into his.

“Just go with it,” he breathes into your hair, and suddenly, you are spinning, the stars above you twinkling, as he leads you expertly in a swing dance.

“Mr Bridgerton, you can dance!” you exclaim in blithe amusement, clinging to him as you move together in a balletic union.

“As can you, Mrs Bridgerton!” he peels carefree.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you lose your footing. Benedict has to grab hold and haul you back upright before you collapse onto the cobbles.

“Sorry…” he blusters, his arms still around you, “I…I wasn't thinking…”

“No, no. That will indeed be my name…” you stumble, almost as if that is only just occurring to you now. “I'm just getting used to it, that's all,” you lie, knowing that is not why you lost your footing. 

He seems to accept that with a nod, and after a beat, you begin to move again, tentatively, Until the wine takes over and you are once again both giggling and dancing, his arm a strong brace around your back as you move together for many minutes, a joy fizzing in your veins.

At one point, you glance over and see Eloise with an odd expression on her face before she orders a drink from the waiter, but Benedict whips you around, and you get lost in the dance and in him. The feel of him wrapped around you at once safe and exhilarating.

“Kiss!” comes the yell from Jérôme as the song ends.

“You know, he's not going to shut up until we do it,” you raise, a little breathless from the dancing.

Without you having to say anything else, Benedict’s hands grasp around your waist, and you are lifted off the ground, taller than him. Then he tilts his head up and captures your lips with his.

Time stops.

The feeling is like an explosion and a perfect calm silence all at once. His lips don't open, but they don't need to - even this gentle kiss is a soft, sensual plushness that obliterates all your thoughts. A lingering tang of wine on his slightly dampened lips that you want to lick off, a plunge of lust in your belly that has you fighting the urge to wrap your legs around his hips and open your mouth, demanding a real kiss.

His hands slide around your back in a gentle cage as he lowers you to your feet. What upends you is the breathtaking look in his eye when he finally pulls away, pupils blown, face soft and full of yearning. You could never tire of that look.

“Get a room!” Eloise yells, and there is an uncharitable tart edge to it that breaks the spell and makes you look over at her. She appears much more inebriated than she was before.

“Is she okay?” you ask, your hands still wrapped around Benedict’s biceps, warm through his shirt sleeves.

“I think she ordered absinthe, so maybe not,” he answers, and you feel a pang of sadness as he releases his hold and gestures gentlemanly for you to walk ahead, to return to the table, the moment lost.

Half an hour later, Benedict and Jérôme are on either side of Eloise, helping her back into the cottage, much worse for wear. They get her to the sofa, where she promptly passes out and begins to snore lightly. Marie covers her in a blanket, and you realise it's unlikely you will be able to move her tonight.

“Well, you two will have to share the bed. But do not worry, I shall not tell your families,” Jérôme winks. “I can’t say Marie and I were saints before our marriage,” he adds with a tap on his nose and an uproarious chuckle.

Your eyes dart to Benedict and his to you. Panic, excitement, and apprehension all bubbling up inside—a volcanic eruption in your gut. You trust him not to take advantage; it’s yourself you don't trust.

Jérôme wraps an arm around both of your shoulders, red wine heavy on his breath “Oui, I will marry you tomorrow, mes amis. I can overlook some rules for a true love like yours.”

With that, he takes his leave, with you and Benedict left looking uncomfortably at each other, unsure if you should celebrate. That feeling remains as he suggests you go up first and get ready for bed, and once you are nervously tucked under the covers as he enters from the bathroom, those broad shoulders framed with a white t-shirt and the same bottoms he wore in Paris when you watched him sleep.

“I really wish I'd packed a proper pyjama set,” he sighs ruefully as he approaches the other side of the bed and slips under the covers, seemingly arranging himself right at the far side.  “I'm also so sorry about Eloise landing us in this situation. I can't believe she was that irresponsible,” he adds with his back turned but an unmistakable tinge of irritation in his tone. 

Even then, it’s a small bed, and you can feel his body heat radiating under the covers.

“You don't have to cling to the edge,” you offer hesitantly, “we are to be married after all…”

The last words are a whisper that sounds almost wounded, and he twists over, a look of surprise crowding his features.

“I am merely being respectful...” he replies cautiously.

“I know…” it's barely audible, and you can’t look at him.

The overwhelming awkwardness makes your chest ache, your hands wringing together nervously under the covers. What feels like mere moments ago, you were swept into his arms, and he was kissing you as if your lives depended upon it. And now this… the juxtaposition of reality and the fairytale you both act so well draws a lump to your throat.

“This whole situation is so odd,” you confess quietly, unable to be anything but honest with him.

“I know… I'm so sorry it has come to this.” 

You have no idea if he means tonight, the marriage or even life in general, in a war that could come to your doorstep any day.

“I don’t regret anything,” you volunteer after a beat.

“Neither do I…” his earnest whisper makes something inside you crack open, your palm itching to squeeze his hand.

Instead, you exchange soft goodnights, and you lay stock still for a long time, backs towards each other, feeling at once too close and a million miles apart.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[bat-in-the-machine]

Miraculous World Tour: Gotham

After Gabriel Agreste makes his wish and the new world begins, Marinette takes some time away from Paris while repairing the Miraculous that he had stolen as Monarch to joing Jagged on a world tour honoring the superheroes of each stop along the tour. Unfortunately, once the European leg of the tour is done, the first stop in the US leg is Gotham, New Jersey.

Surely, nothing will go wrong in such a notable place.

I know, I know, this is not one of my already existing Owl House fics. Writer's block and a fickle muse have made those harder to focus on, so here, have my new fixation: Maribat.

As usual, preview beneath the cut!

----------------------8< snip ----------------------------

Oswald "The Penguin" Cobblepot did not think of himself as a supervillain. He thought of himself as more of a businessman with flexible morals. The GCPD considers him an organized crime boss. His "employees," on the other hand...

"Will one of you... FUCKING IDIOTS please tell me what in the hell this is?!"

"The shipment?"

Penguin rounded on the unfortunate henchman who'd answered.

"The shipment," he seethed. "Tell me..."

"Frankie," the henchman offered.

"Frankie," Penguin said. "Can you please tell me..." He opened the back of the semi trailer, exposing its contents. "DOES THIS LOOK LIKE A TRUCKLOAD OF TOP-OF-THE-LINE LASER-GUIDED SURFACE-TO-AIR MISSILES TO YOU?!"

"No, Mister Cobblepot."

"Would you mind telling me what in the hell you expect me to do with a truckload of SUPERHERO COSPLAY?!?"

"Uhhhhhhhh..." Frankie could see his life flashing before his eyes.

"It's really good stuff, tho," another unfortunate henchman opined. "Like, real 'hot cooter' stuff."

"I don't give a rat's ass how good it bloody is!" There was a pause. "Wait, are you attempting to say haute couture?"

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Dawn

Dawn is a strange word. It's chilly air, goosebumps on fresh skin. It's the eeire silence of a world stirring awake. It's awakening, in every sense of the word.

Dawn is my favourite time. At about 6:45 in the morning, the sun begins to peek out of its horizon. It greets me with grey light, traces of the darkness still lurking within it. I watch its inexorable march towards its apex, the gradual warming of the colours in the sky, the sharpening of the air as nature wakes up. If I blink and look away, I'll find that the sun will have burst out of bed, inflaming the world in a blaze of oranges and blues.

That is when I take my dog for a walk, in the moment between day and night, between dreams and reality. Some say the witching hour lies at midnight. Other opine that it is 3 am. But I maintain that the witching hour is dawn. There is nothing more magical than the Aubade of the night, Daybreak's serenade by the creatures of darkness.

Watch the owl flap away in a flurry of talons and feathers. Bid the bat farewell as it settles beneath the fronds of a tree. Listen, rapt, as the crickets and cicadas sing their codas. This is dawn, the fading of the yesterday and the beginning of the now all rolled into an instant.

And before you know it, the dawn will break. It will shatter, whisked away by the day like leaves in the wind. I walk my dog and blink again, and morning will rush in, made of rush hour commuters and screeching preschoolers. That hallowed tranquility will implode in fireworks of vitality and life.

And I will pause in mourning of the morning, of the serene silence and the dawn.

[girderednerve]

well, in a fit of classic tomfoolery, i called my father [in my defense it is national be-pressured-to-call-your-dad day]. good things about the call: he described an owl to me & was probably sober. bad things about the call: he rambled about my mom, opined about the supreme court & machine guns, and i am not sure he was sober

[geofflewriter]

A Letter Of Wishes #poem #poetry

It is said by some of life’s deepest thinkers That penning one’s Will can be a bit of a stinker. Another wise owl opined: One can ameliorate This problem if one were to create A letter of wishes. What should such a list contain If raised passions we are to constrain? ‘The fondest of my post death wishes Is you party, ignore the dishes, Cover all with happy kisses And someone take care…

[itoshi-s]

If I should pick an au that I really like to read, it would be Shapeshifter! Character x fem!reader. I'm imagining Rin as a cat (even though he likes Owls) cuz he's the younger brother of Sae (who I find sassy and cat-like in a way XDD)

Imagine driving on your way home and you encountered an injured animal on the road, of course you stopped and stepped out of the vehicle to see an injured cat. His right leg is damaged, deducing the cat's scenario of his predicament transpired here as you saw dried stains of red-brown on the road. The cat was still breathing and conscious, his collar tag only had its name "Rin", you noted and no signs of contacts from his owners (in which you find odd) 'A runaway cat?? Hmm.. If I remembered correctly, there's a pet shelter located at the next city... I can drop him there-' you inwardly opined as the cat hissed at your actions coming closer to him little by little.

"A-ah... I'm sorry. But can I help you even just for a bit? P-please don't worry!! I'll just relocate you to a nicer place where experts can check up on you!" (Wtf are you doing, conversing to a cat?! As if he would understand you! I- u-ughh... Cringe)

The teal-eyed cat slit and his tail slowly swayed side by side as it built up a puffy tail. Shit, this isn't good does it?? But never fear!! If there's one thing you've learned from watching compilations of cats online, most cats can't resist the smell and taste of food to calm them down.

So you grabbed a smol yet edible snack for cats from the middle seat of your car and returned at where the cat is... Only to see the cat became unconscious, eyes closed.

You PANICKED and carried his body to your car, drove by the pet shelter, and implored the veterinary (also the person with a pet who's next in line) to take care of the cat first.

After hours of waiting (and hoping), lo and behold, a breathing yet unconscious cat. The veterinary explained brief details of what the cat went through and advice on how to take care of Rin, that... Made you confused.

"I-I'm sorry doctor, but I'm not his owner. I just found him at the road and actually, I was hoping you'll take care of him." You rubbed your neck only to be replied by the doctor saying "Says the person who didn't give up on him and stayed here for hours to see his condition. If anything, you're just the person he needs for the reason being his 4-week maintenance so he can walk properly again. Also, he got no chip from his previous whatsoever." The doctor waved you off afterwards as he continued checking his papers for any corrections and revisions. 'H-huh..' you stared at his back-figure slowly going narrow.

And that is how you ended up bringing a cat home at your comfy abode. IT'S A FUCKING PAINNN. As much as you want to be on good terms with Rin, he really can't lower his guard down for you! This dude would constantly hiss at you and began isolating himself around the house, making his maintenance (on a daily basis for 4 weeks) hard to accomplish.

Cat!Rin would climb high places around your apartment and stay right there to piss you off leave him be. But.... That didn't stop you from helping him. You would constantly attempt to eat with him on the floor (yet just gives him the space he needed) for a chance to be used to your presence. And this continued on and on for you believed consistency is key for a cat get used to you.

It worked! Just a little though... BUT EYYY PROGRESSSSS BABYYY

The time you've realized you and Rin are now comfy with each other was rather from a melancholic pov from Rin. The time you did your good deed and took great care of him from these past few weeks... You managed to do that because you were on a vacation and here you are, changing clothes that looked like more street casual for face-to-face work, he realized----

....you have to leave your house...

....you have to walk away, your back the only thing he can see as you walked near towards the main door...

....you have to... leave him...

"...meow" Your eyes widened. What the- did you heard that right??? D-did Rin just meowed at your for the first time???!? You turned around and saw him just sitting there, stay put, his ears twitched as it slowly moved down, his once dignified figure slowly becoming downcasted. 'Oh shi---IS HE HURT AGAIN??!??' You scrambled towards him and kneeled down, didn't even give a damn about your clothes getting stained with small dusts. You cupped the cat's cheek and gently tilted it upwards towards your vision, a worried expression worn on your face...

"RIN! ARE YOU OKAY?! DID I OVERLOOKED SOMETHI-"

"...meow" his eyes slowly blinked and let out a small purr.

'A-ah... Did he just purr??? I- awww---' *BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Your train of thought became distracted by the alam of your smartphone, showing a text saying it's time to leave for work. 'Crap.. I almost forgot about that.' You let go of his face carefully and about to stand up properly when... you heard the cat let out a smol whine and his tail curled up a little in your hand. 'W-what?? D-don't tell me...'

You cupped the cat's cheek gently once again... Closing your eyes, you placed your forehead over his and boop his nose with yours. "Don't worry... I'll be back before you know it! Take care!!" whispering those words and left, leaving a stunned cat-turned into human after you closed the door.

I---ughh... It's so late heree so imma leave this imagination here. I'm sorry if it's occ for Rin. I saw your profile saying you're okay with receiving things like these so I thought you'd enjoy it.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!@#!@ nonnie !!! don't make me down the hybrid rabbit hole again ! (╥_╥) please .. rin as a lil kitty hybrid ........ imagine coming back home to a grown ass naked man standing in your kitchen and munchin on all the snacks in your cupboard . butt naked and all . and he's .. handsome ..... the prettiest boy you've seen ,, with the softest tail and pair of ears that perk up when he hears you walk in !!!!!!

:((((((((((( this idea is so cute it makes me want to curl up and cry .. make a lil shrine for kitty boy rin .. pls afhakfl

[thenightslayers-musings]

Medicated Origins au But Owl House.

So pretty sure opin and DLG6 are going to hate me for this but here's something I've been working on.

An Owl House version of Medicated.

(No I will not write a fanfic of this)

Also just putting this in cap so you all understand

THIS IS NOT CANON TO MEDICATED, THIS IS ME MESSING AROUND

Many years ago Eda was cursed I'm the exact same way as she was in the show. However things went differently due to a rather risky ritual performed by Eda (and others) several curses where unleased, Eda performed it on earth, hoping it die there, however she didn't realize that a mother and young daughter would be working in that forest, as the ritual was completed the curse left Eda and entered Luz, she saw the toddler transform into a smaller version of the monster she had been transforming into, Camila watched all of this in horror.

Eda out of guilt promised Camila that she would give her one of the potions, however while Luz returned to humanoid again her body was a mix of human and owl beast, a man around her neck, claws for feet, feathers covering her body, and once in a while her eyes are black.

Eda promises that she'll find a cure, Camila blames her for this but agrees to let Eda try and fix it.

Luz's biology has changed, she can now eat Boiling Isles food as well as any small rodent that just so happens to be near by, Eda has lied to her about who gave her the curse that Luz has been sick for years, she's done everything to try and keep her happy but sadly for her own safety she's been kept In the Owl house for the majority of her life, Luz feels however that Edas her real mother and thinks Camila gave up on her.

Eda has spent years looking for a way to help Luz traveling across the Boiling Isles but so far the only thing that can help her are the potions. Luz was forced to stay in the Owl House after an incident where she followed Eda to a world of Amphibia s and cause a problem with Blue frog girl (Which was dealt with by Eda giving her a potion altering the girls memories slightly, so they think Luz was just another frog and the Blue frog was a witch girl.)

Luz was lonely but Eda one day picked up a book as payment and gave Luz her first Azura book, giving her a love of fiction.

King was still adopted and Eda still works at the market.

Luz and King are still best friends, but Eda still hasn't told them the truth. Eda however trusts King more that Luz

This changed one day when Kings crown was captured and King and Eda went to get it back.

Luz insisted that she'd come along. Following them the events of Prison break still played out with them escaping but Eda realizing that Luz could survive in the world.

However what Luz didn't know was that she wasn't the only one in the world that was cursed.

And that's it for now.

I really need to accept we're never getting a crossover

(again this is not canon just me having a laugh.)

[sugargliderowl]

I just realized that the “Dangerous” theme in the background is the same run as the one in “God Games” that they use to introduce the gods in the beginning right as Aphrodite is introduced or when Zeus starts getting angry

[argumate]

tagline master post:

- dumb yet mildly chuckleworthy - shockingly flamboyant celery - Purveyor of impious and immoral libels. - approximately reasonable person with bad jokes - professional moderatrix - acceptable tier - certain playful irregularities begin to become evident - overdismissively flip - I was half correct - unwarranted confidence, unwarranted optimism, no outstanding warrants - a sinful (counter-counter-)signaler - insufferable superfluity of naughtiness - Imperfect Owling Weather - sometimes insightful but really dropped the ball on this one - welcome to my boring mind - fascinating, yes, my comment was facetious/hyperbolic - I think you have a decent point in there somewhere though. But keep it real. - I don't know how to use this website so apologies if I make mistakes! - we’re all garbage star children - gollum can get it, you know he can - but you came here for my bad take, so here it is. - a flawed pancake demiurge, unsure and unworthy of the massive power they wield - the fact that we haven’t bullied you off the site for being a centrist dweeb is another reason why we can’t have nice things - scrawling out brain noise and hurling it into the howling vortex of the internet, day in and day out, stopping only to sleep - an absolute cretin talking complete bullshit - taking a giant crap to general acclaim - this is a pretty facile dunk - yeah that’s right bitches this is a castration blog again for some reason - An elegant tagline for a more civilized blog - you’re Not Wrong but I hate everything I just read - false but surprisingly compelling - You wouldn’t still be reading if you were afraid of a little repetition - Incrementalism: It’s Better Than Nothing™ - blog bimbo - op has a lot of dumb opinions and i don’t support them but this is a good point - Canonically and also Historically Inaccurate - stable to the point of monotony - people yelling at each other, arguing about things that are outside the pale of conventional conversation, etc. - The Blog Who Knew Too Much (And Yet Nowhere Near Enough) - suspiciously capitalist, be wary - an idolatry of reason - merely insufferable - I’m now less confident in my opinion having heard this - I’m now less confident in my opinion having - our new tagline - blasé liberal humanism - the birds are torn apart by envy and the owl doesn’t care - tribute to the mad owl king - a Rorschach blot in the vague shape of an owl. - under some kind of faerie curse to never decline an invitation to an argument - I don’t like this but I recognize it is objectively good - the downside of petty internet fame - not -wrong- just a little shallow - A generous social safety net would solve this - It's fucked up to make public statements - unflappable terrible bastard owl - i’m just a slut for obscure & nerdy snowclones - it’s an issue that people have very strong feelings about (not me though!) - just some liberal - from the wack timber of humanity, no legit thing was ever made - how can someone be so massively wrong - the humanist with no self control - our resident ultra-relatable Aussie feminist Tumblr teen - this shit is not half as clever as you think it is - another goddamn Harry Potter reference for which I apologise profusely - come to the vault and check out my extensive collection of easily disprovable opinions - a stupidly misguided form of blogging - there is a certain level of dope that you fundamentally cannot reach without also being proportionally cheesy - you’re allowed to dislike argumate! tons of people dislike argumate! - nobody spends more time going through my posts than I do! - regular reminder that I'm a fucking cretin - euphoric diarrhea - most egregiously wrong - free to opine about anything - I’m sorry but you just had to see it. - an atheist with imperfect social graces - A glib and mildly smug saint - new tagline? no! - it’s no fun if you do it on purpose >:( - it may not be good, but it is very much the right kind of bad. - this is REALLY close to being funny - unflappable, funny, confident, systematic, unattainable, smart, and a certain je ne sais quoi - that certified argumate brand of cursed - Mr. Stupid Hippie Owl

[avatarvyakara]

Drops of Gold and Silver

A Tangled Fanfic

Prompts 1-15

1. Embarrassment

“We're related to these people?” asks Varian one day, utterly flabbergasted as Catalina and Lance and his Dad (his no-nonsense, nearly-humourless Dad) trade some of the most awful puns he’s ever heard while they eat.

“Yep,” says Angry, leaning back in her chair contentedly. “Plus, dinner and a show. Our families are great.”

2. Balcony

Rapunzel tries to make time to do something with everyone in her life. Any number of activities with Eugene (even sometimes just doing nothing). Learning about governance and the kingdom from her parents, and later helping them get their memories back. Learning fighting tricks from Cass, when she was still here. Discussing science with Varian (he likes geology and botany, she’s still new to everything but). Painting with Catalina, that was a nice surprise. But she’s not sure what to do with Angry.

Until, as Eugene suggests, it turns out that just watching the stars in the night sky is all that’s needed to make Angry...really happy.

And she’s got the perfect place for it.

3. Unreasonable

Wanting people to act a certain way around her, going out of her own way to ‘tease’ people about their faults, taking criticism as insult, literally using magic to change the minds of the people she loves to make them think what she wants them to think (like the Hourglass Incident)…it's been a tough few years, but that's no excuse for this.

And there's only one person left beyond Pascal to turn to. Not Dad, or Lance, or the girls, or Varian, or even Cass, and especially not Eugene. (He's one of the worst-affected.)

"Mom," says Rapunzel, quiet as a mouse and a little scared, "I need your help. I think I'm becoming my Mother."

4. Congress

"Consider it a vote of confidence, Sunshine," says Eugene as Rapunzel fumes, half sympathetic and half trying not to laugh. "Literally."

"Eugene, the idea of making Corona a democracy was supposed to give the people of Corona more freedom of speech. It should not have led to the citizens voting to give us even more power!"

5. Cook

There's a reason we brought him along on this trip, thinks Cassandra, slurping down the rabbit stew at dinner—hunted by her and Owl, but prepared entirely by Lance.

Not that she's going to tell him it was a good decision.

No, not even for third helpings.

6. Disclose

“Huh,” says Cassandra after Varian’s story rattles to an embarrassed halt. “What are the odds of both of us having a completely separate Feather Duster Incident?”

7. Cute

Catalina’s successfully holding back a giggle. Varian’s not even trying.

“If either of you says anything about me being dressed like this,” warns Angry in a dark voice, “your days will be numbered in the single digits.”

8. Valley

“...of Shadow? Pit of Despair? Mountains of Madness? The Dark Kingdom? You even live in the Castle of Dread! Dad, is there anywhere in this entire country that doesn’t have a horribly depressing name?”

“Well, there’s always Lancaster...”

“Great! So let’s visit Lancas—”

“Trust me, son,” says Edmund, firmly, “you do not want to visit Lancaster.”

“...do I want to know why?”

“Not if you value your sanity.” He brightens up. “But the Pit of Despair has some great picnic spots!”

9. Disagreement

“His Majesty has become very...different since his marriage,” opines the brand-new Captain of the Guard, watching Herz der Sonne arguing with his wife.

“I know,” says Montanieu, as her sister and her brother-in-law stand nose-to-nose glaring soulfully into each other’s eyes. “I haven’t seen either of them this happy in years.”

10. Concentrate

For the first time in a long, long time, the Captain is knocked down.

Cassandra offers him a smirk and a hand up. “What, the idea of me going on a pretend date is that distracting? Try to focus, Dad.”

11. Correspondence

In a way, it was good for their relationship that she took a year to travel the world, thinks Arianna. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all, and where in the castle she and Frederic were chaperoned all the time, through the letters they could speak freely and without Frederic’s crippling shyness or her tendency to go for the sword. As for some of the things they were writing to each other by the end...well, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell. (Or even Send With A Loving Kiss and tell.)

12. Relaxation

Pascal plays chess. Maximus reads the Corona Lawbook. Owl goes hunting. Fidella loves a good ride.

Amateurs, thinks Ruddiger, as he and Hamuel snooze on a branch in the sun (Hamuel is thankfully silent). This is how you have a day off.

13. Law

One of the nice things about actually learning the rules, Angry thinks to herself, is that you get to find so many new ways to work around them.

14. Caution

Varian is the most impressive alchemist that Corona has seen for a hundred years, leading at least one successful coup (the Chocolate Incident probably doesn’t count). Catalina absorbed a three-thousand-year-old werewolf demon and not only survived but learned to control it (again not counting the Chocolate Incident). They’re two of the most formidable people in the kingdom.

But regardless of how much power they have, everyone agrees that Angry is scarier.

Including them.

15. Ancestors

Sometimes it truly amazed Rapunzel that, out of all her friends, she was the only one who had a lineage going back more than a generation in this country. Sometimes it saddened her.

And one or two times, it made her wonder if her ancestors had thought the same about their friends, and where their friends' children were now.

(Cross-posted from AO3. Let me know what you think!)

[kneipho]

Submitted by @mantrabay​

Echos Of A Shady Past.

An icy chill descends on 13 Beaver Veil Cottage as sisters Ester and Ellie walk gingerly up the steps on this wet and windy night.

This once charming pied-a-terre was now in a final phase denouement.

The trees surrounding this house creak ominously overhead as tangled electric wires cackle in the rusty leaves.

“Night owls like us should be wary.”

Ellie sighs in a shudder as her sniffling nose warps her every word.

“Yes……Ellie, watch your every step or we could be joining our Uncle Denny and Auntie Diane in that eternal place in the sky, that is, if there is one.” Ester countered with a ghost- laden voice.

“Heavens above or heaven on earth your faith or is it fate is sealed in another world?”

Ester continued dryly.

A loose tile suddenly drops in front of both of them as they approach the rotting front door of this old period home

with its spaced windows, dripping eaves, and contoured outlines.

“Focus that torch of yours, Ellie.

Look at how evenly split those tiles are.

The hidden hand of a superior being no doubt.” The moon peeps behind the clouds almost in sync with Ester‘s edgy broadside.

Ellie smirks nervously as they both tread the damp dark hallway with its crumbling structures and sinister undertone.

“Auntie Diane and Uncle Denny used to poke fun at our squabbles when we were caring for them.

Like ourselves they were natural mimics.

They loved copycatting our voices just as we did when imitating them.”

Ellie’s tone a haunting echo reverberating around the interior of this latter day cave.

“Oddly enough Diane always had her worry beads with her. But our impish banter offset her angst. Auntie’s ripples of laughter at the two of us proved that.”

Ellie once more stressing a point.

"Indeed.” Ester concurred. "Denny was more unearthly in his asides.”

Pictures, CDS and other personal belongings seemed either to appear out of nowhere or were left strewn as if they had been planted deliberately.

“Ester…where are you? My walks,…My walks….I know you are hiding on me.”

Ellie’s mischievous giggle now a misty cacophony in imitation of uncle Denny’s sonorous voice.

"The joker within me surfaces despite myself.”

Ellie deadpans.

"Joker or perhaps a lurking scruple or two.”

Ester replied as she cast her auntie Diane’s scapulars at Ellie which she had just spotted on the floor next to a Light Emission Diode gadget.

This religious object somehow missed its target.

"Far too long brewing that coffee.

Are you making that Percolator?”

Ester assuming her aunt Diane’s plummy twang.

Within seconds a swirling witch’s brew of Diane and Denny voices filled the air in grotesque mockery as the sisters taunt each other in rotation.

“You are holding on too tightly, Diane. I need a rest, Uncle Denny.”

Ellie calls for an immediate halt to this hair-raising escapade.

“We both cared for our relatives as best we could.“ Ellie observes against this web of suspense.

“Diane with her plain dress sense at odds with her aura loved to drop oblique hints about delays. Oh…. and that rocking chair.”

Ellie opined. “All an act too…she was never glued to it when it suited. The sudden movements and those long- range controlling beams from her peepers.”

Ellie darkly noted.

"As for Denny and his colour scheme clothing. He was always nudging Diane when we stared at each other. They had an inkling as to when you and I would row over the Eternal Life question…..or some other state beyond this earth.”

Ester her voice now saturated with the dampness of this old house.

“The 13 BEAVER VEIL BROUHAHA.”

Ester as she adds another spine-tingling quip to the proceedings.

“They loved our spats.”

Ellie whispers amid the sound of scurrying mice and sinister splish-splash of ceiling leaks.

"This hovel could still be the death of us literally.

It has decayed since our last visit.”

The sisters’ voices now merge as one.

For whatever reason Ellie seemed to be curiously familiar with this dwelling despite the fact that it was supposed to be their first visit in six months.

Ester’s suspicions had been heightened every minute they spent in this abode.

Diane and Denny had a special sense of attachment to this house despite the best wishes of their caretakers.

The elders revelled in this old home and its ghastly….indeed ghostly choir of sounds from the mists of time.

"Have you the gumption to climb these stairs?

After all, the way things are going this could be our last chance to peer around Diane and Denny’s rooms.” Ellie’s wet croak vent in the ascendant.

“Wouldn’t be too sure about the lights unless there’s Divine Light.”

Ester and Ellie jostling with each other.

A pregnant silence ensued followed by spooky giggles.

Ester and Ellie climb the stairs carefully eyeing their surroundings while they take big gulps of dank mould air.

This was no time for either to lose their balance.

Suddenly a burst of thunder and a scattered moonlit beam meld with Ester’s frightened shriek.

"Ellie, am I seeing things? It’s the rocking chair. Is that where you left it the last time?…..on the top of the stairs.” Ester now frantic.

“Now you might believe in a higher power ….er…gosh.” Gasps Ellie.

"There’s a faint outline in the chair. Apparition or spirit.” Ellie again.

"Where’s my tea? Aren’t you going to read to me? Are you two still at it?”

Diane’s voice or its like as it flits from spot to spot.

"Ellie please not now ….oh no is that Denny?”

Ester was almost possessed.

Denny was seemingly speaking through her in retaliation.

"I’m here, those delays, feeling guilty are we?” Was I that much trouble?”

The rocking chair was tilting back and forth as if it was about to tumble.

The ceiling plaster crashes as Ellie and Ester grab each other before heading back downstairs.

They dash to the front door which Ellie had forgotten to shut.

It looked as if the door was going to close of its own accord.

The rocking chair was now at the foot of the stairs as they just managed to squeeze past the closing door without being trapped.

Just!

” Keep running.”

Ellie her words nearly choking her.

Out the gate and down the main road they fled against a bizarre backdrop of strange whirlpool noises emanating from the house they had barely escaped.

“Phew that was close….I never want that experience again.” Ester blurts.

“You seemed to know the house much better than I did?“ Ester again in an arched tone.

“You haven’t been out there by yourself within the last six months?”

Ester posing the question again suspiciously.

“Oh…..oh…no….that God is my witness.”

Ellie gleams with her ironic religious retort.

And the moon peeps out again from behind the clouds as Ellie and Ester continue to flee.

Their fearful laughter mingling with beads of sweat that segue into the frost encrusted air for miles around.

mantrabay photograph and short story copyright protected

I’d like to thank you for reading and assessing my work.

[mantrabay]

Echoes Of A Shady Past.

An icy chill descends on 13 Beaver Veil Cottage as sisters Ester and Ellie walk gingerly up the steps on this wet and windy night.

This once charming pied-a-terre was now in a final phase denouement.

The trees surrounding this house creak ominously overhead as tangled electric wires cackle in the rusty leaves.

"Night owls like us should be wary.”

Ellie sighs in a shudder as her sniffling nose warps her every word.

"Yes......Ellie, watch your every step or we could be joining our Uncle Denny and Auntie Diane in that eternal place in the sky, that is, if there is one.” Ester countered with a ghost- laden voice.

"Heavens above or heaven on earth your faith or is it fate is sealed in another world.”

Ester continued dryly.

A loose tile suddenly drops in front of both of them as they approach the rotting front door of this old period home

with its spaced windows, dripping eaves, and contoured outlines.

"Focus that torch of yours, Ellie.

Look at how evenly split those tiles are.

The hidden hand of a superior being no doubt.” The moon peeps behind the clouds almost in sync with Ester‘s edgy broadside.

Ellie smirks nervously as they both tread the damp dark hallway with its crumbling structures and sinister undertone.

“Auntie Diane and Uncle Denny used to poke fun at our squabbles when we were caring for them.

Like ourselves they were natural mimics.

They loved copycatting our voices just as we did when imitating them.”

Ellie's tone a haunting echo reverberating around the interior of this latter day cave.

"Oddly enough Diane always had her worry beads with her. But our impish banter offset her angst. Auntie’s ripples of laughter at the two of us proved that.”

Ellie once more stressing a point.

"Indeed.” Ester concurred. "Denny was more unearthly in his asides.”

Pictures, CDS and other personal belongings seemed either to appear out of nowhere or were left strewn as if they had been planted deliberately.

“Ester...where are you? My walks,...My walks....I know you are hiding on me.”

Ellie’s mischievous giggle now a misty cacophony in imitation of uncle Denny’s sonorous voice.

"The joker within me surfaces despite myself.”

Ellie deadpans.

"Joker or perhaps a lurking scruple or two.”

Ester replied as she cast her auntie Diane’s scapulars at Ellie which she had just spotted on the floor next to a Light Emission Diode gadget.

This religious object somehow missed its target.

"Far too long brewing that coffee.

Are you making that Percolator?"

Ester assuming her aunt Diane's plummy twang.

Within seconds a swirling witch's brew of Diane and Denny voices filled the air in grotesque mockery as the sisters taunt each other in rotation.

“You are holding on too tightly, Diane. I need a rest Uncle Denny.”

Ellie calls for an immediate halt to this hair-raising escapade.

“We both cared for our relatives as best we could." Ellie observes against this web of suspense.

“Diane with her plain dress sense at odds with her aura loved to drop oblique hints about delays. Oh.... and that rocking chair.”

Ellie opined. “All an act too...she was never glued to it when it suited. The sudden movements and those long- range controlling beams from her peepers.”

Ellie darkly noted.

"As for Denny and his colour scheme clothing. He was always nudging Diane when we stared at each other. They had an inkling as to when you and I would row over the Eternal Life question.....or some other state beyond this earth."

Ester her voice now saturated with the dampness of this old house.

"The 13 BEAVER VEIL BROUHAHA.”

Ester as she adds another spine-tingling quip to the proceedings.

“They loved our spats.”

Ellie whispers amid the sound of scurrying mice and sinister splish-splash of ceiling leaks.

"This hovel could still be the death of us literally.

It has decayed since our last visit.”

The sisters' voices now merge as one.

For whatever reason Ellie seemed to be curiously familiar with this dwelling despite the fact that it was supposed to be their first visit in six months.

Ester’s suspicions had been heightened every minute they spent in this abode.

Diane and Denny had a special sense of attachment to this house despite the best wishes of their caretakers.

The elders revelled in this old home and its ghastly....indeed ghostly choir of sounds from the mists of time.

"Have you the gumption to climb these stairs?

After all, the way things are going this could be our last chance to peer around Diane and Denny's rooms."

Ellie’s wet croak vent in the ascendant.

"Wouldn't be too sure about the lights unless there's Divine Light.”

Ester and Ellie jostling with each other.

A pregnant silence ensued followed by spooky giggles.

Ester and Ellie climb the stairs carefully eyeing their surroundings while they take big gulps of dank mould air.

This was no time for either to lose their balance.

Suddenly a burst of thunder and a scattered moonlit beam meld with Ester’s frightened shriek.

"Ellie, am I seeing things? It's the rocking chair. Is that where you left it the last time?.....on the top of the stairs." Ester now frantic.

"Now you might believe in a higher power ,,,er...gosh.” Gasps Ellie.

"There's a faint outline in the chair. Apparition or spirit.” Ellie again.

"Where's my tea? Aren't you going to read to me? Are you two still at it?”

Diane's voice or its like as it flits from spot to spot.

"Ellie please not now ….oh no is that Denny?”

Ester was almost possessed.

Denny was seemingly speaking through her in retaliation.

"I'm here, those delays, feeling guilty are we?” Was I that much trouble?”

The rocking chair was tilting back and forth as if it was about to tumble.

The ceiling plaster crashes as Ellie and Ester grab each other before heading back downstairs.

They dash to the front door which Ellie had forgotten to shut.

It looked as if the door was going to close of its own accord.

The rocking chair was now at the foot of the stairs as they just managed to squeeze past the closing door without being trapped.

Just!

" Keep running.”

Ellie her words nearly choking her.

Out the gate and down the main road they fled against a bizarre backdrop of strange whirlpool noises emanating from the house they had barely escaped.

"Phew that was close....I never want that experience again." Ester blurts.

“You seemed to know the house much better than I did?" Ester again in an arched tone.

“You haven't been out there by yourself within the last six months?"

Ester posing the question again suspiciously.

"Oh.....oh...no….that God is my witness.”

Ellie gleams with her ironic religious retort.

And the moon peeps out again from behind the clouds as Ellie and Ester continue to flee.

Their fearful laughter mingling with beads of sweat that segue into the frost encrusted air for miles around.

Photograph and short story copyright protected by mantrabay

[drawlfoy]

Fixed

masterlist

request guidelines

requests are open as usualllll

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

request: yes! i’m combining 2 slytherin!reader requests because they’re rather similar and i feel weird putting two nearly identical ones out, but i swear the storylines aren’t altered.

summary: draco has a teasing relationship with the reader--they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

warnings: breakdown (and not the dancing kind), if the summary didn’t already explain that. swearing and potentially suggestive argumentation. also ooc draco and i say “fuck you” to canon in this one

a/n: this is the first time i’m merged two requests together, so i’m feeling a little wacky but i hope it turns out to what you guys wanted! i’m so so lucky to have readers. i’d love any comments that you may have on my work, even if they’re constructive criticism!

music recs: peach pit is what comes to mind but i’m listening to scary stories as i write this lol because i live on the edgeeeeeee

word count: 2,924

Y/N was an organized girl, no doubt about it. So organized, in fact, that she never lost anything, and she most certainly never lost track of her wand.

So when she noticed in Charms that her wand was not stowed away in her cloak pocket, she immediately knew who did it.

Without even as much as a hello, Y/N strode over to her “friend” and fellow house member Draco Malfoy and shoved her hand into his pocket, wiggling it around.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Draco had started at the sudden sensation, but once he smelled the perfume of the witch behind him, he knew exactly who it was, not bothering to give her much of a reaction.

Y/N fished around his pockets for a bit before grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around.

“Where is my wand, Draco? I know you have it.”

He smirked evilly down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you do!” She pulled him towards her by his green and silver tie, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I swear to god, Draco, I’m gonna hex you into oblivion if you don’t give it back.”

“With what wand?” He laughed. “And let’s be real here, Y/N, you wouldn’t anyways. You love me too much.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew red at the suggestion.

“As if, Draco! Give me my wand back, or I’ll throttle you with my bare hands!”

“Ooh, kinky.” 

She let go of his tie, shoving him away. Who was he to suggest these things to her? He’d never been interested as long as she could remember--no matter how many subtle hints she’d dropped, he remained oblivious, instead choosing Pansy’s incessant fawning.

Pretending like it didn’t hurt when he was ignoring her was easy. Pretending it didn’t hurt when he was inches away from her face and fake flirting with her was a whole other deal. 

“Give me my wand, you git,” she commanded, holding her hand out. Perhaps if she was animated with her hands, he wouldn’t notice her blush. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, one side of his lip rising along with it. 

“Ask nicely.”

“May I please have my wand back?” she spat, each word filling her mouth with venom.

“We could work on your tone a tad, but I guess I might as well,” he responded, nonchalant and ignorant of the searing look she sent him. Digging through his satchel, he retrieved her wand, pressing it into her hand.

Y/N sent him a syrupy sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In the corner of her vision, she could see Pansy watching her with a sour look on her face.

She was never one to disappoint an audience.

“Thank you, Draco,” she cooed, taking a complete 180 from her previous demeanor. Throwing all caution to the wind, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. 

When she settled back down to her usual height, she noticed that his eyebrow was still arched, but his evil look was replaced with one of inquisitiveness. 

“I knew you were in love with me,” he crooned.

“No, I’m just a big fan of charity work,” she shot back, spinning around and walking back to her desk.

It was, after all, just another Tuesday.

♥♥♥♥

“Are you still hopelessly obsessed with Draco?”

“Huh?” Y/N diverting her attention from her studies to what her roommate, Millicent, had just asked her. “Sorry, I was deep in a passage and didn’t catch that.”

Millicent rolled her eyes, crossing her legs on her bed. 

“I asked, are you still into Draco? I remember you talking about him in 4th year when we were getting dates for the Yule Ball arranged.” 

“Oh.” Y/N let her eyes fall back onto her textbook. “I don’t know, Mills. I think he’s kind of an arse. He totally knew that I was into him and asked Pansy instead.” 

Millicent chuckled sourly at that.

“Yeah, he was kind of immature back then,” she offered, resting her chin in her hand. “But, I don’t know, don’t you think that you guys have chemistry?”

Y/N thought for a few moments.

“I can’t say,” she responded. “But chemistry doesn’t really mean anything if they don’t care about you, you know? I think he messes with me just so he can feel like I’m still on the hook.”

“How do you know that?” 

“How do I know that he’s just using me?” Y/N rolled her quill over in her hands a few times. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m normally good at reading these situations and I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“So you’re saying that you do have hopes that he’s interested?” Y/N didn’t have to turn to know that her roommate was plotting. 

“I’m saying that I really don’t have time to be worrying about it right now,” Y/N opined. 

Before she knew it, a hand was taking her quill out of her hand and closing her textbook.

“Hey! You can’t--”

“It’s been too long, Y/N,” Millicent whined. “We need to have a good gossip, and now that midterms are over, we can catch up. Please?”

Y/N couldn’t help a smile from creeping into her stony expression. While she had had reservations about her roommate at first, she soon learned that they brought the best out in each other.

“Okay, okay, but I’m not making any rash decisions, alright?”

“And when would I ever let you do that anyways?”

They both erupted in giggles while Y/N allowed her friend to pull her onto the bed.

“So, for starters,” Millicent began. “I heard that Draco and Pansy are going through a rough patch right now.” 

“And who did you hear that from?”

“Irrelevant. But if you care, Blaise, and Theo confirmed it as well. And I would’ve found out without their help...they’re acting weird. Pansy looks like she’s ready to slit his throat at a moment’s notice, if you haven’t been paying any attention for the past 4 hours.”

Y/N laughed nervously. Of course she had noticed...but she didn’t want anyone to realize how much she actually cared.

“Yikes, I hope they figure that out. Their parents are going to be mad if they break up, right?”

“No, probably not. His parents really want him to end up with a Greengrass...something about settling a deal from a few generations ago.”

“Oh.” Y/N swallowed any other hope that she had left. “That sucks for Pansy. I know how much she likes him.”

Millicent paused for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been feeling bad as well,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve noticed the pain in your eyes whenever you see them together.”

“And it doesn’t help when he seeks me out to mess with me!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I try so, so hard to forget about him and pretend like he doesn’t matter to me, but he finds all of these ways to keep butting back into my life and it always works...”

Her roommate began rubbing her back, allowing the few tears being shed to fall in peace. 

“You’re worth so much, Y/N,” she told her firmly. “And unless I’m wrong, which we know is impossible, I think he kind of likes you too.”

“I don’t think you understand, though,” Y/N whispered. “Why would I ever want to be with someone who thinks of me as a second choice?”

Millicent was silent for a few breaths.

“Yeah. Maybe his parents pushed him to date her, though? Maybe he has a good excuse?”

“I don’t know, Mills. I’m just not going to think about it anymore, alright?”

♥♥♥♥

Draco was sitting across the breakfast table from Y/N, watching her sip her tea, waiting for the moment to throw another comment her way. 

The screech of owls interrupted his thought process, signaling that the morning post had arrived. A snowy owl landed gracefully next to Y/N’s plate, bearing a letter with a red wax seal on the back.

She shook herself out of her daydreams--she had been up late the night before cramming for an exam and had burnt through an entire candle. Stroking her owl, she whispered a genuine thank you and instructed it to fly on home.

Y/N picked up the letter, fingering the parchment. It was clearly from her parents--the wax seal bore the mark of her family’s crest. Confused, she ripped open the envelope and began skimming the letter.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Her vision began to blur as she folded the parchment up, shoving it back into her pocket. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s going--”

Before Draco could finish his sentence, she was already halfway down the aisle, moving quickly to the exit. He watched her go, wishing that he could follow but knowing that it wasn’t a good idea with the tension regarding Pansy.

It was high time to break up with her anyways--no reason to keep up appearances when he didn’t desire her.

♥♥♥♥

As the week went by, Draco noticed more and more changes in Y/N’s demeanor. She was eating less and spacing out more. Her skirt was wrinkled on Friday, something that rarely ever happened, and she was no longer sending him bitter remarks in response to his flirty ones. On Saturday, she stayed in her dorm instead of joining her friends for a day in Hogsmeade, something he had never seen her miss before.

Something was clearly wrong with Y/N, and for some reason, this twisted something in his chest more than breaking up with Pansy did. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her messing around in the common room, either. It was unnerving, really. The witch had no business worrying him like that.

So, when he passed by her during a free period and saw her walking ahead of him, he made the executive decision to finally do something.

“Y/N!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. “Y/N, wait!”

She halted, turning around slowly. When she saw who had called her name, she stiffened and made to continue on her path. 

Draco, anticipating such a reaction, had already begun to jog towards her, lightly pushing past the rest of the students going the same direction.

“Y/N! Please, I need to talk to you!”

 She picked up the pace, but Draco’s long legs caught up to her as he slipped a hand into the crook of her arm, startling her.

“What do you wa--”

“Can I please talk to you? It’ll just take a second. I promise.”

Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell that she was considering her options. 

“Fine,” she finally said. “What is it?”

“Not here,” Draco quickly said. “Somewhere private. The common room, maybe?” 

“If you wanted to off me, I doubt anyone would notice if you did it right here,” Y/N said, waving her hand dismissively. “But if you would really like to talk there, then I guess I’ll comply.”

Without another word, Draco led her down to the dungeons, keeping his hand tucked in her arm, not trusting her to stick by him. It felt strange--normally he was the one holding his arm out, but then again, this entire situation was out of character for him. 

Once they had reached the common room, Draco waved his wand and lit the fire, sitting down in front of the couch to watch the green flames lick the stone.

“Sit,” he instructed, patting the space on the couch next to him. 

Surprisingly, Y/N did as she was told, folding her legs up on the couch and sending Draco a death stare.

“Get on with it.”

“I just...I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Draco faltered. Playing therapist was not something he had experience with. “I’ve noticed you acting strange since you got that letter at breakfast and it’s making me worry. Can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it and we can be normal again?”

Y/N was silent for a while.

“You can’t fix this. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me, Y/N, please.”

Silence again...except for something else. Draco stole a glance at Y/N and was stunned to see the firelight illuminate tears rolling down her face. 

“Oh, no, Y/N, what’s wrong?” 

The question only made her gasps for air louder as Y/N curled herself into a ball.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “You should go. You can come back later when I’m calmer, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Draco murmured, bringing up a hand to steady her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it better, alright?”

“My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage,” she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. “He goes to Durmstrang. I hate him. They offered my hand in marriage because they want his father to be more amiable to mine in this business deal, and since I’ve never been in a relationship, they think it’s the only chance I have anyways at finding a life partner.”

The sobs had stopped. Her tears fell silently now, staining the whites of her sleeves.

Draco himself had to process the information. Y/N, married to someone else? No, he never could’ve imagined that.

Without anything particularly useful to say, Draco just opened his arms.

“C’mere,” he awkwardly mumbled. 

Y/N studied him for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get snot on your shirt.”

“I don’t care.” 

With that settled, Y/N released her knees from her hold, instead crawling into his lap. He stroked her hair as she wept into his shirt and clung to him.

Oh, how this was embarrassing for her. She supposed that there was a reason why her parents were so desperate to accept an offer for her hand. 

Draco suddenly stopped, moving his hands to tap her shoulder.

“Y/N,” he began, “Would they make you marry him if you were already in a relationship?”

She sat up, blowing her nose into her handkerchief before answering.

“No, probably not. Why?”

“Well...” He pondered for a second, wondering if he was really going to be brave enough to say what he wanted to. “What if I was in the picture? They wouldn’t care to pass you off to some random Durmstrang boy if you had a Malfoy instead, right?”

Y/N stared at him.

“Er... probably not. That’s nice wishful thinking there, Draco.”

“I’m being serious!” He wasn’t expecting it to go this direction. 

“How do I know that you’re not joking?” she queried, scootching further away from him and trying to ignore the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“I let you cry all over my dress shirt,” he reminded her, motioning to the stains on his chest. “Do you think I’d do that for any girl?” 

Y/N just shrugged, hiccuping once before she stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket. 

“I wouldn’t.” Draco answered his own question, reaching up to gingerly brush her hair out of her eyes. “I know it must be weird seeing me with Pansy.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even think about that. My disbelief was due to the fact that you’ve never been interested.”

Draco flinched. 

“I don’t think you’re completely right there,” he said, his hand pausing to cup her face. 

“Are you forgetting the Yule Ball ordeal? How you knew how much I liked you but you still went with Pansy instead?”

“You don’t understand,” he responded hastily. “I didn’t know--I was 14 and an idiot. I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not and I knew that she did, so I wasn’t afraid.”

“And so you dated her for another 2 years?” Y/N answered in disbelief, seemingly forgetting the fact that she had just been crying her eyes out.

“At first it was to make you jealous,” Draco explained. “But then Pansy’s parents began to expect a lot out of us, and I was waiting for the right time to break it off, and it just didn’t....ever come around.”

Draco jumped as Y/N smacked his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” she snapped. 

“I know.” Draco gulped. “And I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I really am. Let me make it up to you. Owl your parents and tell them that you had forgotten to mention that you’re already in a serious relationship with me.”

He curled an arm around her waist, highlighting the fact that while she wasn’t lying on his chest, she was still nestled into him.

“Under one condition,” Y/N told him, an elvish glint in her eyes.

“Yes?” He reached up his free hand to boop the tip of her nose.

“What was that?!” Y/N jerked her face away from his.

Draco smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You were saying?”

Her mouth was parted slightly in confusion as her brain tried to recall what she was about to say.

“I--just don’t be a pill, Draco, alright?”

“C’mon now, when have I ever been one?” He smirked down at her, wearing the expression that he adopted whenever they teased each other in class.

Y/N was trying her hardest to stay composed, but a genuine smile fought its way onto her face. It only widened when Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Pulling away, he uttered the words that would lead to her lightly smacking him on the shoulder again:

“I told you I could fix it.”

final a/n: kindaaaaaaa mad that i took on this request at this point because i totally could’ve turned this into a series where the reader and draco don’t admit feelings this early and instead decide to “fake date” so both parents would be happy but i have a lifeeeee grossssss

[thelibranarchives]

For @giucorreias Flufftober 2020 Day 3 prompt- Sunshine

'You've mellowed, Draco,' Pansy opined, taking a drag from the joint before passing it to Millie on her left. 'The Gryffindors have done their number on you.'

Draco Malfoy snorted. 'Nope,' he denied.

Blaise laughed, slapping his thigh. 'This,' he said in between bouts of laughter, 'is exactly what she meant. Normally, a stinging hex would have been your answer.'

'On the contrary,' Daphne said, picking the cigarette out of Millie's mouth. 'If the Gryffindors have had any influence on him, he would have physically tackled you both.'

'That's more like it,' Draco nodded.

Nobody said anything for a while. They were enjoying a very rare, much awaited and incredibly precious Slytherin-only gathering in a small clearing in the Forbidden Forest. It had been almost impossible to not have some Gryffindor hanging off their shoulders for two months now what with the lions accompanying them everywhere from showers to classes, but that day, Granger had Arithmancy for her afternoon class. Longbottom had volunteered to help Prof. Sprout weed out the greenhouses and Weasley and Potter had gone to Diagon to the joke shop. Ginevra and Lovegood were at the quidditch trials, which left the Slytherins with a golden opportunity.

Unlike rumours and speculations, the Forbidden Forest, had a cheerful air about it, though slightly dark with the thick canopy. The five of them sat in a circle under a bubble of protective charms, sharing a joint and blowing out smoky rings, or as in Pansy's case, trying to. An idle, and clearly out of place bird, was humming a sweet tune. There was the occasional rustling of leaves and the half growl and half bark of some as yet unencountered forest animal but Draco was relaxed.

Draco and Potter's dynamic had undoubtedly changed ever since Potter got that dragon lily tattoo on Halloween, even though Potter's behaviour towards him didn't. He still went to classes with Draco and sat next to him, partnering him in Charms, Potions and DADA. No one had mentioned anything about the tattoo in the two weeks since and Draco wasn't a fool to harbour hope that they didn't understand its significance too. He wasn't going to talk about it for as long as he could.

'Muggles celebrate Thanksgiving in November,' Blaise said, inhaling deeply. 'On the fourth Thursday, to be exact.'

'What is it for?' Millie's tone was curious.

'To be grateful to the good things or people that happened to them that year? Mother says Muggles cherish it a lot.'

'How's Maine? Is it suiting her?' Pansy asked.

'She says that's where she's going to settle down but that is what she said of Milan too so I wouldn't bet on it.'

Daphne's brows were furrowed. 'Why are you telling us about this Thanksgiving?' That girl was quick and sharp, no matter how clueless she sometimes acted to be.

'Well,' Blaise said, licking his lips, 'we should thank them too, don't you think?'

It had been easy for Draco to get a first edition copy of Rare Charms and Unique Spells for Granger, a chocolate frog card made in honour of Fred Weasley for Weasley and his sister and an assorted collection of Celestina Warbeck's classics for Longbottom, who loved them and transferred some of his admiration for her onto Blaise as well.

Pansy, Daphne and Millie had got some trinkets, rings and other accessories for all the girls while Blaise imported an Italian Bellflower plant for Neville. The purchases were all made through owl-post, from stores suggested by Narcissa Malfoy, under the name of Madame Zabini.

Draco curiously couldn't think of the best gift to Potter, though Potter was the one he knew the best out of everyone else. He decided he would ask Potter what he wanted but as the days passed, either Draco or Potter found themselves otherwise busy, to say more than "hey" to each other.

Draco sighed and shrugged. There was nothing he could do.

Thanksgiving dawned on them, abnormally cold and cloudy. Draco woke up late from a fitful sleep and didn't even have time to overthink if the atmosphere outside was setting the tone to what was to unfold that day.

Daphne had done that for him, however, whining every possible minute she could about how potentially disastrous the others could think their gifts were. Pansy and Blaise, in their attempts to find courage in liquor since they seemed to lack it in themselves, added to it after stumbling into the common room drunk, half an hour later than the time they had fixed.

Even then, Draco was glad when they had all assembled.

'So,' he began, fidgeting with his shirt, 'Blaise told us, technically it was Blaise's mother, that muggles celebrate Thanksgiving on the fourth Thursday of November and well,' he gulped, ' well,' he licked his lips, 'we just..'

'Here are the gifts, bitches!' Pansy screamed, wand shooting confetti into the air as she twirled, tripped and fell over the neatly wrapped presents. 'Oops,' she said, grinning up at them with a dazed look in her eyes.

The stress of worrying his brains over the small surprise that lit up the faces of everyone present, finally melted away the stress beneath his skin. Draco wasn't even aware that he was beaming until Blaise knocked him on the shoulder, sloshed and swaying.

'You've become a sap, Draco,' he slurred.

'And you, a Hufflepuff,' Draco retorted, grinning wider, because yes, this group of unlikely people made each other smile to the maximum.

'I don't want to see all of your teeth, Draco.'

'I don't want to see you bouncing like a toddler either.'

'I'm in full control of myself, thanks.'

Draco had to give him a once over then. 'Yes, I can see that.'

'Are you two arguing over who is better at pretending to be the least affected by our reaction?' Lovegood's sweet voice wafted from behind them followed, an instant later, by her floral perfume and then a smacking kiss to their cheeks.

Weasley and his sister came up to them next, eyes shimmering. They held up Fred's chocolate frog card that read "one half of the only two who managed to set off fireworks in the Great Hall and literally got away with it." That had been Draco's personal addition. He would never forget Umbridge's horror at that.

'This,' Weasley choked.

'Means a lot,' Ginevra said, barely keeping it together. 'Excuse me,' she whispered and then she was exiting the common room, Draco's eyes trained on her till the door shut behind her.

When he turned back, he found Potter staring at him and he blushed, remembering that he hadn't got anything for him.

Potter held up the broom polish from Blaise and a few shirts from the girls as if to ask, 'you?'

'I didn't know what to get for you,' Draco mumbled, rocking on his heels. Behind Potter he spotted a radiant Granger hugging Weasley and talking his ear off about the book in her hand.

'If-' Draco said, glancing back at Potter, 'tell me what you want and I'll get it. For you.'

'Anything?' Potter asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

'Yes, anything.' Draco didn't know how his voice sounded so confident.

'Well,' Potter smirked, 'I want to see the sun, make the clouds go away.'

Draco thought for a while and smiled back. 'Be ready, then.'

Next morning found them both racing through the sky on their brooms at four am.

'Is this revenge, Malfoy?' Potter shouted when they landed on the hill, wet and shivering from the rain falling at Hogwarts.

'Why, scared Potter?' He called back.

'You wish!'

They sat next to each other on a boulder, Draco making them face a certain point in the sky.

'I can't see anything there,' Potter grunted.

'Not yet,' Draco murmured.

'Where are we anyway? Why isn't there snow here?'

'Shut up and watch, Potter.'

And watch they did as the sky lightened and the sun rose in a golden hue. Potter was dumbstruck.

Draco laughed at his expression, wrapping one arm around Potter's shoulder. It was instinctual but Draco had never initiated it before. He froze until Potter leaned into him, resting his head on Draco's shoulder.

'Do you know why I like the November sun?' He asked quietly. 'It shines brighter than in May. There's something about the warmth of the wintry sun, don't you think?' Potter looked up at him.

Draco's gaze was hooked onto the way the emerald orbs were reflecting the sunlight, brimming with satisfaction.

'Yes,' Draco whispered, not looking away. 'The sunshine is brighter.'

This is probably a bit here and there and I tried to make it not huge but 🤷🏻‍♀️