#planned three parts and an extra part with two drawings I thought looked cool/are funny but couldn't fit in the comic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plant-flwrs · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a ilvermorny transfer x one of the twins? I think it'll be cool if she wore roller skates to school (charmed by yours truly) since it's the 90s and she's cool but super sweet and caring - maybe when they invite her over to the burrow for the summer or their birthday she can give them a pair? Thanks ily!!!

roller skates // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ok i always feel bad when my fics take so long to set up and theres barely any like actual romance and i am trying to work on it. i think its hard for me to go into a fic where a relationship is already established, so i like writing them coming together and the immersion of it. but i hate reading fics where it takes forever to get to the good parts so just know that i will be trying to work on that flaw in my writing! thanks so much for reading! (i made the reader from florida just because my mind blanked on any other places that don’t have snow lol, but it’s not really relevant in any other situations so ignore it if u please) also just realizing all of my summaries sound scary and ominous also just realizing how i say way too much in these author notes im so sorry bye

summary: The American transfer student draws attention to herself with her accent, but Fred is drawn to something else about her.

(10.4k hehe sorry :D)

-----

Looking around at the students bustling past you, the only word you could think of was “proper”.

Looking down at your muggle clothes, loose and mismatched, your hair resting naturally, the only word you could think to describe yourself with was “improper”.

A boy with a permanent scowl and striking blond hair glanced your way, and the taller adults behind him followed his eye line. The three of them looked you up and down and their mouths all distorted into nasty grimaces. You felt your father’s comforting hand clasp over your shoulder, trying to help you remember everything he had said to you before arriving at King Cross Station.

“They aren’t that different from us,” he repeated, and you could tell he was doubting himself as he glanced at the uptight children and their matching parents.

He guided you forwards, and you pushed your large cart in front of you, navigating through the crowd. It started to separate around you, and even more odd glances were thrown your way. You supposed you should have felt a little insecure- you looked quite out of place- but the feeling could not overwhelm the excitement you felt. You had read all about Hogwarts, its history, its architecture, and you even picked up a few books about muggle London.

You were stood in your father's embrace, about to board. Your things were stored away, and you heard the train roaring louder and louder. You glanced around, the fathers in their dress shirts and ties, mothers in long skirts and blouses. Their children wore sweaters and jeans, or suit jackets and dress pants.

Something caught your eyes, though; a few feet away there was a large family, mingling in embraces. They all had flaming red hair, and their clothes looked like yours. In fact, your clothes resembled the oldest woman’s clothes, mismatched and colorful. Her eyes watered, and she smoothed down the hair on a fidgeting boy.

“Ronald, hold still!” she shouted at him, and he reluctantly allowed his mother to soothe his red hair down into a part on the side.

Once the woman had moved onto another child, Ronald roughed his hair back to the mess it was before. The woman now clutched a smaller boy, who looked like he was Ronald’s age, by the shoulders. She moved a hand to soothe his unruly hair off his forehead. Your eyes widened when you saw the lightning bolt on his forehead.

The books you had bought about the English Wizarding World did not neglect to mention the boy who lived. Elbowing your father, you both cast glances at the family. Your father nodded his head, looking impressed at the sight of Harry Potter.

“Thanks again Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, and it sounded like he had said it millions of times before.

Mrs. Weasley waved off the two boys, who went to gather a girl with large bushy hair.

“Come on ‘Mione! We’ve got to get a good compartment,” Ronald said impatiently, tugging the girl's arm onto the train.

Mrs. Weasley was left with four other children. One of them looked like all the other proper British people you had seen at the station, a permanent sneer on his face. He shook his head stiffly at his mother and shook his father’s hand. You thought it was quite odd, and two identical boys standing with the family couldn’t contain their laughter.

“Yes,” one of them started, doubling over in a bow, “good day, mother,” he said pompously, imitating his brother.

“May you have a wonderful few months,” the other started, moving to shake his father’s hand as his brother had moments ago, “I’ll be looking for your owl,” he said, sounding incredibly posh.

The younger girl, with the same fiery hair, began to giggle, earning a scowl from the eldest brother as he boarded the train.

The girl pulled her mother in for a hug, and then her father, and waved to them fervently as she followed after her brother.

“You boys, stay out of trouble!” Mrs. Weasley said to the remaining twins, waving a finger at them.

“We always do, mum,” one said, and it was obvious by his tone that they didn’t often stay out of trouble.

They waved to their parents at the same time, stepping onto the train with a certain enthusiasm.

You averted your gaze, looking anywhere but at the family you had been staring at. You looked up at your father, hugging him one last time. When you pulled back, you heard his name being called.

“Mr. Y/n?” the voice called out, approaching the two of you.

It was Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Mr. Weasley already had his hand stuck out to your father.

“I’m Arthur Weasley, I’ve been the one to hire you at the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office at the Ministry. This is my wife, Molly. Funny to meet you here,” he said politely, looking at you and your father in a nicer way than any other wizard had during your time at the station. His eyes didn’t wander down to your brightly colored shoes, or your patterned pants, and he didn’t even cast a second glance at your oversized, offensively colored sweater. You beamed at him.

“Oh! Yes, it’s great to meet you,” your father said, shaking his hand. He squeezed your shoulder, jostling you a bit, “This is my daughter, Y/n.”

“Oh, would you hear that accent, Arthur!” Molly gasped, smiling as if she was astonished. Your father chuckled at her reaction. You supposed it would happen to you a lot at Hogwarts.

They both smiled at you, and Arthur offered you his hand to shake. You held your hand out, but the sleeve of your sweater swallowed the limb. You shook the extra clothing away, and Molly chuckled. Finally shaking his hand, you held it out to Molly. She bypassed your hand and began to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, accomplished, at you.

“Better get her going,” your father said, and the Weasleys nodded at you.

“Have a good term, dear,” Molly said to you, patting your shoulders the way she had done to Harry.

“Thank you,” you repeated, moving past them and heading onto the train.

You waved one last time at your father, and the door closed behind you.

You wandered down the isles, looking for an empty place to sit. You pretended to look like you knew where you were going, hoping fewer people would stare at you if you did. Your plan didn’t work, and you caught the eyes of almost everyone you passed.

You had made it to the end of the train, and your eyes peered into the last cabin. It was empty except for a girl and a boy. They seemed friendly enough, so you slid open the door.

“Mind if I sit with you guys?” you asked, and the boy looked at you quizzically when he heard your voice.

“Not at all,” the girl said.

She had strikingly blonde hair and gray eyes that poured deeply into you. She had a faint smile on her lips, and her head was cocked to the side.

“I’m Luna Lovegood,” she said, and her voice was light and airy, “This is Neville Longbottom.”

The boy shifted in his seat, casting a shy glance at you. He raised a shaky hand and gave you a curt wave.

You smiled widely at the two of them, glad you seemed to have picked the right place to sit.

The train ride went fast enough. Luna asked you all sorts of questions about America, and you asked her all sorts of questions about England. When Neville warmed up to you, he asked some questions about Ilvermorny. They asked what house you had been in there, and you told him you were a Thunderbird, the soul of the witch.

“Where do you reckon she’ll be sorted into here?” Neville asked Luna. You leaned forwards, curious for the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, peering into a magazine she had balanced into her lap, “but if I’m lucky, it’ll be Ravenclaw.”

“Which one is Ravenclaw?” you asked, trying to remember what you had read.

“The wise and witty,” Luna said, moving her robes to show the crest on it. It was blue with a bird over it.

“A raven, clever,” you said, looking closer at Neville’s red-trimmed robes.

“You’d think,” he said, “but it’s an eagle. I’m a Gryffindor, we’re meant to be brave but,” he trailed off, and Luna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

“Oh, stop it, Neville,” she said gently, her gaze back onto you, “there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.”

You nodded, recalling what little you read.

“My dad said he figured I would be a Hufflepuff. The Ministry told him he was a Ravenclaw, he had to do the silly sorting hat and everything,” you said, and Neville smiled at you.

“Hufflepuff? They’re quite nice, I suppose,” he said, sounding disappointed that you weren’t in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.

“Well, we won’t know for sure,” Luna said, closing her magazine, “until-” but the train’s brakes began to screech.

Her smiled widened, and you looked down at your robes you had changed into. Maybe now people would be less inclined to stare, you thought.

You were right, but only briefly. Once you had gotten to the Great Hall, you were shuffled in with the first years. Your face burned a slight red the whole time, your larger and older stature standing out amongst the sea of younger students. Your name was called, and you heard a faint whooping coming from the table of red.

You glanced at it, seeing Neville lowering a cheering fist from the air. He looked around nervously, and you saw one of the Weasley twins glancing at his quizzically. You smiled at Neville’s support and sat in the stool.

An old and tattered hat was lowered onto your head, and suddenly it began speaking in your ear.

“Hm, very interesting. You’re not from here, that’s obvious,” it spoke quickly, echoing in your skull, “but I think the choice is simple. I’d say,”

Suddenly the voice left your skull and boomed into the room, for everyone to hear.

“Hufflepuff!”

Cheers from a table full of yellow sounded off, some raising from their seats and clapping for you. You beamed, moving off the stool and skipping cheerfully towards the table. You walked down the aisle between the red and yellow, and Neville’s hand stuck out at you.

“Congratulations!” he said excitedly, holding his hand up for a high five.

You hit his hand, and he waved you off.

A girl with a yellow tie and dark hair waved you over. She inched over, giving you room to sit with her.

“I’m Sarah, happy to have you in Hufflepuff!” she beamed, and you didn’t think you would ever get used to the British accents.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you watched her eyes widen at the sound of your voice, “I’m Y/n.”

“You’re American! You must have come from that American school, what’s it called, Ilmorny?” she asked, ducking her head and whispering as the sorting continued.

“Ilvemorny,” you corrected her, still smiling.

Sarah asked you a lot of the same questions Neville and Luna had asked, but you didn’t mind answering them. She had even offered to give you a tour of the school tomorrow, with the promise that you would choose the bed next to her’s in the dorm.

Sarah had lived up to her promise. You walked with your head permanently tilted upwards, admiring the greatness of the castle. Sarah ate with you at every meal and even insisted on walking you to your classes until you knew the way on your own. She had been so nice to you, and when Luna told you about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip, you knew you had to ask her to go with you.

The two of you walked through the snow, wrapped up in matching yellow and black scarves. She had linked her arm with yours and pulled along to all her favorite shops.

The two of you ducked into The Three Broomsticks, sick of the ice sticking to your face.

You saw a red scarf and a blue scarf sitting at a table, and when you saw the flow of blonde hair peeking from the blue one, you knew who it was. You pulled Sarah over to Luna and Neville, and Neville told you to pull up two chairs. You introduced Sarah to Luna and Neville.

“We’re just waiting for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to meet us,” Neville said, smiling cheerfully.

“Oh, should we go?” you asked, offering to free up your chair.

“No, no, stay,” Luna urged you, pulling your arm back down, “I’ll introduce you.”

This was how you were going to meet Harry Potter, you thought, huddled up at a small table, drinking a foamy beverage that left a little white mustache on your upper lip.

Harry was just like every other kid, and he was with the people you had seen at the station that day.

“What did you say your last name was?” Ron asked, leaning over the table so you could hear him.

“Y/l/n,” you said.

“Does your dad work for the Ministry?” he asked, and you nodded, “Our dads work together!” he said, elbowing Harry.

“Her dad is the bloke my dad was raving about all summer, the guy from America,” Ron said to Harry, and Harry nodded at you.

“What a coincidence,” you said, dipping your head to take another sip of the drink Sarah had ordered you.

You all fell into a natural conversation, and Hermione asked to switch seats with Sarah at one point. Sarah had no protests, filing easily into the seat next to Harry, glancing at him dreamily.

“Will you tell me about America? I’ve been to other parts of Europe for holidays, but never America. What’s it like? How different are the wizards?" Hermione sounded off questions like she had them rehearsed, but you were happy to answer them.

You and she were in a fit of laughter after she had told you about her parents’ reaction to her letter. Your eyes were shut, brimming with tears, as Hermione recounted her mother’s jumping up and down.

You were so involved with your conversation with Hermione, you hadn’t noticed Ron’s brothers come into the restaurant.

“Hello, Ickle Ronniekins,” one of them teased, messing a hand through Ron’s overgrown hair, “when are you gettin’ a hair cut?”

“Mum’s gonna cut it all off the second you get home,” the other said, pulling a chair in between Luna and Ron. The other pulled a chair in between Harry and Sarah, and you didn’t miss Sarah’s annoyed sigh at the interruption.

You and Hermione were recovering from your laughter, clutching your stomachs and breathing heavily.

“What’s so funny ladies?” one of them said, shoving Ron aside so he could rest his elbows on the table.

“Just telling Y/n about how my parents reacted to my letter from Hogwarts,” Hermione sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“You’re the famous Y/n?”

“The American?”

Ron elbowed each of his brothers in their sides, frowning at them.

“That’s me,” you answered cheerfully, smiling at them, “Are you Ron’s brothers?”

“More like,” one of them started.

“Best friends,” the other finished.

“He really would be nowhere if it weren’t for us,” they said at the same time.

A smile slid across your face; it was easy to smile around your new friends, you found.

Hogwarts was better than you could have ever hoped. You wrote to your father nearly every week, recounting the amazing things you had done with Sarah, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ron. The seven of you were becoming inseparable.

Luna’s blue tie dangled over your face as you lay on her lap, she was trying this odd head charm she had read about in the Quibbler. Your head rested in between her legs, back on the ground. Her skinny fingers were pressed to your temple, and they hesitantly pressed into your skin.

“Is that right?” she asked, consulting the cartoon pictures that moved on the Quibbler laying next to her.

“I don’t reckon, it doesn’t feel like anything’s happening,” you said, sitting up and rubbing where Luna’s fingers had been.

“Neville,” Luna said, motioning him over. His face grew white as she pulled him into him, moving to where you had been. Luna’s fingers pressed against Neville’s head, and his eyes fluttered closed. Luna began to hum to herself, and Neville smiled.

You crawled over to sit by Ron under the tree. Sarah was talking to Harry, her eyes dazed over as he gently brushed off a leaf that had fallen on her shoulder. Hermione was near, her head resting on her bag, laying on her back with his legs crossed. She was deep into a muggle book you recognized, and you couldn’t blame her for not wanting to put it down.

“Hi, Ron,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, ending his obvious staring at Hermione, “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, it’s just about my favorite time of year,” he said, twisting a blade of grass in his fingers.

The snow had melted, winter break had ended. Ron was able to shed his mother's heavy knitted sweaters and wear some of his more comfortable shirts.

“I quite liked the winter,” you said, your head leaning against the tree, “it was my first time seeing snow.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell us that?” Ron asked, seeming bewildered.

“Don’t know,” you shrugged, smiling at him.

“Hermione! Oi, Hermione! Y/n had never seen snow before she came here,” Ron said, calling out to Hermione.

“I know, she’s from Florida,” Hermione said, uninterested, head still buried in her book.

“Florida? Why didn’t I know that?” Ron asked, feeling out of the loop.

“Don’t know,” you repeated, shrugging again.

“Because you don’t ask, Ron,” Hermione said, sounding unpleased with Ron’s loud volume.

You stifled a laugh, but Ron looked at you, feeling guilty.

“Hermione’s right, I guess,” Ron said, casting a sad glance at you.

“It’s alight, Ron, I won’t hold it against you,” you reassured, and Ron perked up a little.

“Tell me one thing no one else here knows about you,” Ron said urgently. To this, Hermione closed her book and lay it on her chest, interested in what you were going to say.

You thought about it. You didn’t have anything to hide from your friends, but you felt yourself blanking on even the littlest fact about yourself. You tried to think of any special abilities you had, besides being a wizard, or any life events that were significant. The only thing you thought of was the hesitance you had when packing your trunk for school, debating on whether or not to bring your roller skates with you. Ilvermorny had allowed them, and you skated to nearly all your classes. The school's cold granite floors were just begging to be skated across, you had thought, and it was ten times faster than walking.

You thought about your skates, you missed them more than you thought you would. The white boots with slick, black wheels and rainbow laces were one of your most prized possessions. You wondered now, again, if you would have gotten in trouble for bringing your roller skates to school.

“Oh, alright, I’ve thought of something,” you began, and Hermione sat up a little, resting on her elbows.

“I really like to roller skate,” you said proudly.

“Roller skate?” Hermione and Ron repeated at the same time. Ron sounded confused, but Hermione sounded entertained.

“Yeah.”

“Like from the 80′s?” Hermione asked, still sounding entertained.

“They’re making a comeback,” you defended.

“What’s roller skate?” Ron asked, looking between you and Hermione.

“It’s like shoes with wheels on them,” Hermione said, used to having to explain muggle inventions her friend, “You tie them up and you skate around.”

“What do you do that for? Do they go really fast?” Ron asked.

“They can,” you said, “but it’s really just for fun. I used to take them with me to Ilvermorny and go to my classes on them, but I didn't know if Hogwarts allowed them.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Ron asked, “Are they dangerous?”

“They're not dangerous, I suppose you could fall on them, but it’s not as bad as that Quidditch game you guys play,” you explained, “I just didn’t know if Hogwarts allowed those kinds of muggle things.”

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Hermione looked to be in deep thought.

“I’m sure they would,” she said, returning back to her book.

“What do you reckon they’re doing down there?” Fred asked, looming over George’s shoulder as he held the Marauder’s Map in his hands.

“Do you think Ron’s finally gonna get a girlfriend?” George teased, looking at you and Ron sitting together under the tree.

Fred sneered at his brother. Ever since he had told George he thought you were cute, it seemed George wanted to push his buttons any way he could. He would make jokes about you and Ron flirting, and for some reason it made his blood boil. He hadn’t even spoken to you on more instances than he could count on a hand, but he was enticed by you.

Your eyes were always moving, and they were always wide with excitement. He thought you were beautiful, you were always wearing your muggle clothes when you didn’t have to wear your uniform. You dressed kind of like his mum, he realized one day, but in a cooler way. That’s the word, cool, he thought you were cool. You fit in easily with Ron’s friends, you could talk about anything, and you were always so sweet.

“Where are they going now?” George wondered out loud, watching the names on the map begin to move.

You got up and dusted off your pants, feeling the baggy jean material under your fingers. You helped Ron up, offering him a hand and pulling him off the ground. You, Ron, and Hermione trailed after Harry and Sarah, who trailed after Neville and Luna. You had all been feeling a bit warm outside, so you decided to go to the Gryffindor common room for the rest of the afternoon. You and Sarah were always excited to go to the Gryffindor common room, feeling it was a nice change from yours in the basement.

Fred’s eyes watched as you, Ron, and Hermione walked together towards the Gryffindor common room. He suddenly felt nervous, even though he was up in his dorm with George. He stood, and looked at himself in the mirror. He pulled down at the bottom of his shirt, tugging uncomfortably at the way it clung to his arms. He hadn’t been dressed to impress, and he usually didn’t, but at the sight of your name getting closer to his on the map, he ignored George’s torments and changed into nicer pants and a more flattering shirt.

Harry stepped passed Neville, who had forgotten the password, and held open the portrait for everyone as they stepped through. You, Sarah, Luna, and Hermione occupied the biggest couch in front of the fire, and Neville and Ron took the armchairs on either side of you. Harry sat on the floor in between Ron’s chair and where Sarah had sunk into the corner of the couch.

Sarah beamed at you, taking notice of the small action, and you wiggled your eyebrows back at her. She blushed and leaned over the side of the couch, resting her chin in her hand and starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione pulled her book from her bag again, reading the pages eagerly. You and Luna sat shoulder to shoulder as Luna began to tell you about her plans for the summer.

“I think I’ll try to learn French,” she said, toying with some sunglasses she pulled from her pocket.

“You’re going to learn French?” you repeated, a smile pulling up your lips.

“I think so, might also help my dad with his plums,” Luna said, turning to you as she slipped on the sunglasses. They overcame her face, entirely oversized and wonderful. They were bright green and had purple lenses that were reflective. You could see your wide and amused smile in them.

“Your father grows plums?” you inquired, always enjoying conversation with Luna.

“Yes, they’re Dirigible Plums.”

“What are those?”

Luna pulled her hair back and showed you a pair of earrings she wore. They looked like little orange balloons, but leaves hung from them.

“Oh, those are very pretty, Luna,” you said, admiring them.

“My dad says they make you wiser,” she explained, “so he grows them in his garden.”

“And you wear them as earrings,” you said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she nodded and gave you a crooked grin.

“What are your plans for the summer?” Luna asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. My father will be working, so I’ll probably be home all day,” you said, feeling a little lonely already, “I’ll have my roller skates though.”

Luna looked at you, confused, but you were more talking to Ron anyways, who you noticed was listening to your conversation.

“You should come to the Burrow this summer! Everyone does, even for just for a week,” Ron said, standing and moving over to sit on the coffee table in front of you.

“That sounds cool, I’d love to,” you said, grinning at Ron.

You looked around you and felt so lucky, lucky to have found such kind and accepting people at your new school.

Pacing upstairs, Fred smoothed down his hair before ruffling it again and then smoothing it. He knew you were downstairs, and he knew he wanted to talk to you, but you just made him so nervous. He never gets nervous.

George sat with his elbows on his knees, eyebrows raised, watching his brother obviously losing his mind.

“Just go down and talk to her,” he said, a little afraid his brother might explode, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground.”

Fred stopped where he stood, near the door. He sighed heavily and nodded.

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing hard, “I’ll just go talk to her.”

Fred recalled the day he had formally met you at the Three Broomsticks. He was smooth, able to mask the way your curious gaze had made his stomach flutter. He couldn’t very well go down there and make a fool of himself, could he?

“Oi Fred!” he heard Lee call from where he stood near Harry, which was also near you, “Come over here a minute.”

Fred sauntered over, forcing himself not to stare at you.

Hermione had put down her book, and Luna had left to go to her own common room to do some homework. You and Hermione sat cross-legged facing each other, playing a muggle card game.

“Yeah?” he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and leaning against the banister of the fireplace.

Harry and Lee sat at two wooden chairs near the fireplace, only a few feet away from the couch you were on. This angle allowed him to watch you as your head threw back in laughter as Hermione scowled at her losing the game. His eyes easily flickered back to Lee, who pulled him into the conversation he and Harry were having about Quidditch.

Ginny walked through the portrait hole, returning from some Quidditch training she had been doing. Ginny was taking Quidditch very seriously this year and had taken to exercising on the pitch with Angelina every weekend.

“Ginny!” Ron called out to her, putting down the newspaper he was reading. He waved her over with a hurried hand.

“What?” she said, plopping down on the empty space next to Hermione, “What game are you guys playing?”

You looked up from the deck of cards you had begun to shuffle as Hermione told her.

“Ginny,” Ron said again, pulling his sister’s attention back to him.

“Hm?” she said, and it was very obvious she was tired from her day's activities.

“Have you asked anyone over for the summer yet?” Ron asked, and his eyes flicked to you, “I just invited Y/n, so I don’t want it getting too crowded.”

Ginny looked over to you, her gaze becoming analytical. You raised a hand to wave and cast her a kind smile, and she returned it.

“I don’t have anything planned, it should be fine,” Ginny turned away from Ron and back towards you and Hermione, “When are you lot coming? At the same time?”

You looked towards Hermione, not knowing the answer.

“Oh, I didn’t have any specific ideas yet, Ron’s just asked me. Still have to write to my dad,” you said, and Hermione nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be the usual time for me, though,” Hermione said, and Ginny smiled.

“What’s the usual time?” you asked, beginning to deal the cards to you and Hermione.

“A few weeks before school starts, Mrs. Weasley takes us all to Diagon Alley for our school things,” Hermione said, speaking fondly of the memory.

“Should I ask my dad to come then, when Hermione does?” you looked towards Ron, “Unless I should come at a different time,” you said, not trying to intrude.

“That would be perfect! Harry comes ‘round that time too, so we’ll all see each other,” Ron said.

He looked over at Harry, and upon seeing his brother, he called Fred over the way he had done to Ginny.

“Fred, have you invited anyone home for summer yet?”

Fred’s gaze immediately went to you, and he found you looking at him too.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing himself off the wall and over to Ron.

“Who?” Ron said, curious because his brothers usually didn’t have people over to the Burrow during holidays.

“George,” he said, smirking.

“Git,” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Why do you ask, Ickle Ronniekins?”

“I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get too crowded when Hermione, Harry, and Y/n come ‘round,” Ron said, squirming as Fred forced himself into Ron’s seat that was only big enough for one of them.

Fred’s cool demeanor dropped for a moment, his eyes widening. He quickly recovered, wrapping an arm around Ron.

“How considerate of you,” he said, giving his brother an unwanted side hug.

Ron got up from his seat, leaving Fred to sit by himself. He watched you with unblinking eyes as you listened to Ginny talk about her time with Angelina on the pitch.

Looking down at your packed to the brim suitcase, you glance to the corner of your room. Your pristine roller skates sat there, one on their side. They looked sad and forgotten, but you knew that wasn’t true. Ever since you had gotten home from Hogwarts, you had taken to skating around ‘muggle’ London. You had also just gotten used to saying ‘muggle’.

Your father left early and got home late, and part of you was jealous that he got to see a Weasley every day and you didn’t. To ease your envy, you took to your skates.

You weren’t sure if you should pack them with you for Ron’s house. You were leaving when your father got home for work, the two of you setting off just before dark. You shoved a sweater deeper into your bag, making room for the skates.

Your father was to eat dinner with the Weasleys, sleep on the couch, and set off with Mr. Weasley for work in the morning. No point in two trips, they figured.

You were traveling by Flu powder, and your father went first. He heaved your bag into the fireplace with him and erupted in green flames. You carried a backpack on your shoulder, filled with little things that couldn’t fit in your suitcase.

Fred was more nervous and excited than he had ever felt in his whole life. He was determined to chat you up this summer, at least do something to make sure you knew he existed. He had been pacing in he and George’s shared room, but George pulled him down to the kitchen and made him drink some tea, hoping to calm him down.

You twisted your fingers, looking nervously into the fireplace. You were extremely excited to spend the remaining weeks of your summer with the Weasleys, but a small part of you was scared. You were nervous that Ron’s parents wouldn’t like you as much as they did at the train station. You were nervous that Ron, and his siblings, would get sick of having you around. You were nervous that you would become a burden.

You had been writing with Hermione, and she ensured you of how kind the Weasleys were. She told you that you had nothing to worry about, and you felt a little relieved.

You had visited Sarah a couple of times during the summer. She lived fairly close, close enough for you to take muggle transportation. Her family was welcoming and all had wide eyes at your accent. Thinking of their kindness, you felt confident enough to finally step into the fireplace.

Green flames surrounded you, and within seconds, you were stood in a different fireplace. It was a little shorter, and you were glad you had hunched over a little. Mr. Weasley and your father were shaking hands off to the side, over by a large couch. Mrs. Weasley was looking into the fireplace and waving you out. Ron was trudging your suitcase upstairs already, and Hermione and Ginny stood by Mrs. Weasley smiling widely. You noticed Fred and George sat at a large wooden table near the kitchen both drinking some tea and eating.

You took a step from the fireplace, making sure to wipe off any ash that may have stained your clothes, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pull you into a hug.

“Oh, so good to see you again, dear!” she said, rocking you back and forth in the suffocating hug.

You didn’t care if you couldn’t breathe, you decided at that moment that Molly Weasley gave the absolute best hugs. She released you, patting your shoulders and running a loving hand through your hair, tucking it behind your ear. You beamed at her, and she smiled back at you.

When she moved away, Hermione quickly replaced her. Hermione’s arms pulled you close, wrapping around your backpack.

“I missed you!” she said, smiling at you.

“I missed you too!” you said, nearly ‘awing’ at everyone’s kindness.

Ginny hugged you too, and when you stepped away, Ron had come back downstairs. You hugged him, and then Harry, and finally you were left to be able to breathe your own air.

The house around you was adorable. It was better than you could have ever imagined. Magic was everywhere, and everything just felt like home.

“You’ll be staying with me and Ginny,” Hermione said to you from her spot next to you at the table.

“Perfect,” you replied, the same awestruck smile plastered on your face since you had arrived.

Fred looked at you from across the table. He felt like his dinner was moving in his stomach, and his hands were sweating. He’d nearly dropped his fork three times. He breathed deep, and when the conversation lulled, he took his chance.

“How has your summer been, Y/n?” he asked, and you looked up from your plate to him.

He nearly died, your happy eyes looking at him.

“Great!” you said, wiping your hands on your napkin in your lap, “I’m glad to finally be here.”

He smiled back at you, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been staring for a little too long, and that you had asked him a question.

“My summer? Oh, my summer’s been good too,” he replied, nodding.

You looked to George, who was next to him and raised your eyebrows, inviting his answer.

“It’s been good,” he said casually, and then an evil grin spread across his face, “but I think Fred’s just about worn my ear off talking about you.”

Fred coughed, choking on his mashed potatoes. His face went red, and he looked at his twin with an anger George had never seen before. Fred quickly looked back at you, as if to gauge your reaction. Your head was tilted down, but a shy smile was on your face and a blush crept on your cheeks.

Fred’s anger subsided at the sight of it, but when George kicked him from under the table, he was reminded.

“What is wrong with you?” Fred asked, nearly yelling at his brother in the privacy of their own room.

“I gave you a push,” George answered, not looking up from the Zonko’s catalog in his hands.

Fred simmered, coming to the realization that George was right. He fell onto his bed, thinking back to the pink on your cheeks and the bashful curl of your lips.

He didn’t know how he was meant to sleep, painfully aware of the fact that you were asleep just a room away.

“Did you hear what George said to Y/n at dinner?” Hermione asked, pulling Ginny into the argument you were having once she got out of the shower.

Ginny shook her head, removing the towel from her hair, “No, what’d he say?”

You rolled your eyes at Hermione as she divulged into every little detail of what George had said.

“And Fred could not stop staring!” she finished, and you let out an exaggerated breath.

“He was not staring!”

“Yes, he was,” Ginny said cheekily, sitting down on her bed.

“Ginny!” you said, giving up hope of having her on your side.

“He totally fancies you,” Hermione said.

Your face twisted for two reasons: the word ‘fancies’, and the fact that she thought Fred Weasley might fancy you.

“He does not!”

Ginny sat on her bed, listening to you and Hermione go back and forth. She knew Fred fancied you, he had since they had been at school. She saw his longing looks, the way he looked at you first after he told a joke, and the pure admiration he had in his eyes any time he looked at you. It especially convinced her when Fred had been talking about you all summer. She came to a decision.

“He does,” she said, watching Hermione’s face change into the proud one she wore when she answered a question right in class. Your mouth hung open.

“What?” Hermione’s gaze turned towards you, and she smiled widely. You liked to think it was her infectious smile that made your mouth turn up, and not the idea of Fred liking you.

“He has been talking about you all summer, I’m surprised Ron didn’t tell you earlier,” Ginny said, bringing the towel to her hair again to catch some dripping water.

“He probably hasn’t even noticed,” Hermione said, the tone of annoyance dripping off her tongue.

Ginny flashed her a sympathetic look, but Hermione ignored it, continuing.

“Do you like him?” she pried, and the whole room felt like it was frozen.

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

You didn’t know. Fred was handsome, and funny, and clever, but you hardly knew him. You knew he was mischievous, and that he tormented Ron, but other than that you might as well have been strangers. You could not deny, however, that he was attractive.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly.

“You don’t know?” Ginny repeated, confused.

“Yeah, I mean, I barely know him,” you answered, the obvious energy in the room shifting to something of deep thought.

“Do you fancy him, though?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

“I think he’s cute, yeah, but how can he fancy me? We’ve barely spoken to each other. Are you sure Ginny?” you asked again, still doubtful.

“I’m sure he’s noticed the little things more than you think he would, Fred can be pretty considerate when he wants to be,” Ginny said, and you breathed out loudly. You flopped on your back, the mound of blankets around you and Hermione soothing your landing.

“See? I wouldn’t know that!” you said.

You knew it was a little silly, to focus on something like this. You had an older, attractive, popular boy head over heels for you, but you were harping on the fact that you didn’t know whether or not he was considerate.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Hermione said harshly, “I mean it’s not like you’re forced to marry him. You go on dates with people to get to know them, after all.”

You were nearly offended by Hermione’s tone, but you figured she was just getting irritated on the subject of crushes.

“I know, ‘Mione, I’m just confused by it,” you reassured her.

“Well, test the waters tomorrow,” Ginny said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

You cringed away from her, and swells of giggles were coming from Ginny’s room nearly all night.

The three of you slept late into the morning. The Burrow’s eventful noises were nothing compared to the sounds of muggle London, so you slept peacefully. It wasn’t until something began tapping on Ginny’s window, did the three of you wake up.

“What the-?” Ginny started but soon fell silent at the sound of a loud crashing noise. Shards of glass scattered around the room and Hermione was lucky that she had rolled away from the window in her sleep. You put your hand up, flinching at the noise, and when you dropped it, the warm summer air flooded into the room.

A small golden snitch was soaring around the room, averting every swipe of Ginny’s hands, and ducking behind her dresser.

Ginny slipped on some shoes, and carefully navigated through the glass. She leaned cautiously out of the window, and that's when the screaming started.

“Harry! Are you mental?! What on Earth-” her screams divulged into threats and insults, and you looked over her shoulder, watching Harry hover many feet away on his broom, his face looking quite guilty.

You found your shoes and moved over to the window. You then realized that Fred and George were hovering closer to Ginny’s window, silencing the snickers and amazed faces they wore. At the sight of Fred, your eyes widened, and his eyes met yours. He smiled kindly at you, and before you knew what you were doing, you ducked behind the window, crouching by Ginny’s feet.

You heard George’s laughter, and Ginny’s ramblings stilled.

“What are you doing on the floor?” she asked you, lowering herself to crouch with you.

“I don’t know,” you answered, whispering. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were wide. Ginny’s threatening look turned into a smile.

She began to giggle, and soon enough, Fred and George hovered just above the window, peering into Ginny’s room.

“What are you girls doing down there?” George asked, resting a hand on the part of the windowsill with no glass on it, peering into the room.

Ginny looked at you, her smile wide. You looked around and began to pick up large shards of glass.

“Cleaning up the glass,” you said casually, although you could still feel the distinct burn of blush on your cheeks.

You could only safely pick up two large shards of glass without cutting your hands, so you raised yourself from the ground, meeting Fred and George’s eyes. Ginny followed you, crossing her arms and smirking.

The boys wore their practice robes, their names and numbers on the backs. They both had discarded goggles hanging from their necks, and their hair was wild. You looked between the both of them, swallowing thickly.

“Could you keep it down?” Ginny finally said, trying to ease the situation, “We’re trying to sleep.”

George removed a hand from his broom and glanced at his watch, “It’s nearly 12 in the afternoon,” he said sarcastically.

“Really? Well, we need our beauty sleep,” Ginny said, and you noticed she nearly reached out to close the window.

George rolled his eyes and zipped away on his broom, leaving Fred.

“I’m gonna go get a broom, clean this up,” Ginny said, huffing as she navigated her way back through the glass on the floor.

You and Fred were left there, staring at anything but each other. Fred moved slightly up and down on his broom as he hovered. He finally cleared his throat and looked at you.

“Sleep well?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

You nodded and smiled, rocking back and forth on your feet, “You?”

He nodded too and looked away quickly.

“Oh, I think George, is calling me,” he said, and it was obvious George was not calling him. He flew away on his broom, and you closed your eyes, letting out a restrained breath.

You groaned and threw yourself on Ginny’s bed. Hermione rolled over, a large and entertained grin on her face. You covered your face with a pillow and ignored Ginny and Hermione’s imitations of the incident while they swept up the glass.

Mrs. Weasley was furious to see Ginny’s window. She had come in later in the day, a basket full of laundry on her hip.

“Hello girls,” she said pleasantly, “Do you have- what the bloody hell is that?”

Ginny’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s deep and serious tone.

“Mum! It wasn’t us,” Ginny leaped from her bed and ran to her dresser, she quickly caught the snitch from where it had been hiding behind her dresser, “It came through the window this morning when the boys were playing.”

Mrs. Weasley looked at you and Hermione, and you both nodded your heads furiously. She huffed out a breath and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

Finally looking up, she set the laundry down and stood in Ginny’s doorway.

“BOYS!” she shouted, and you heard the sudden halting of George and Fred’s laughter, and Harry and Ron’s footsteps upstairs silenced.

The sound of four hesitant feet walking to Ginny’s room was the last thing you heard before Mrs. Weasley’s screams burst your eardrums.

The Burrow was crowded now that the boys had been banned from leaving the house. They had only briefly been allowed out of the house to de-gnome the garden, but Mrs. Weasley stood at the door, making sure they had absolutely no fun.

Your suitcase lay open in Ginny’s room, the three of you dressed and having absolutely no ideas as to what to do. You had all already ran through your spending money going to Diagon Alley on your first days there, and without the boys offering some entertainment, the three of you were idle.

Ginny paced, looking through her own things with interest. She twisted her broom in her hands, offering the idea of Quidditch, but Hermione wasn’t interested. Ginny was scanning her room, and her eyes fell on your bag. A pair of white shoes with wheels on them lay tucked away in the bag. She walked over to them and pulled them out hesitantly.

“What the bloody hell are those?” George said from the doorway.

The three of you girls turned, looking to the door. The four boys crowded in the hall, all peering into the room with interest. It seemed they were bored too.

“Are those the roll skates?” Ron asked, mispronouncing the word and shoving past George and taking the roller skate from Ginny.

“Yeah,” you said, your eyes flicking up over the top of your magazine.

The rest of the boys filed into the tiny room, nearly all of them shoulder to shoulder. Hermione rose from her spot next to you, picking up the other one from your bag.

“I remember seeing commercials for these things when I was a kid,” Hermione said, spinning the wheel in her hand.

“Commercials? What are you on about?” Ron said, and Harry caught your baffled look and smiled.

“What are they?” Fred asked, taking Hermione’s seat next to you on Ginny’s bed.

You lowered your magazine and looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. He gave you a crooked smile and nodded in greeting. You successfully fought a blush and smiled back at him.

“They’re roller skates. They’re like shoes with wheels,” you explained, taking the skate from Ron.

You rolled up your jeans a little and slipped on the skate. Fred watched your delicate fingers lacing up the shoe, noticing the way your hair fell into your face as you looked down at them.

Hermione handed you the other one, and you did the same to the other foot. You stood easily from the bed and nearly lost your balance. It was lucky that Fred’s strong shoulder was there for your hand to clasp onto, or else your feet would have slipped from under you.

You looked down at your hand still on Fred’s shoulder, even though you were standing fine. He slipped your hand off but kept it in his hand. You then became aware that you were just holding hands at this point. He stood with you and turned to face you. He pulled your other hand into his, and pushed you away from him, smiling widely as you rolled easily on the hardwood floors.

Everyone knew then that they had found their entertainment for the day.

The sound of joyful laughter flooded your ears as Fred pulled you around the limited space in Ginny’s room. Your hands fit together perfectly, and he walked backward as he pulled you, keeping his smiling eyes on you the whole time. Soon he was pulling you into the hallway, and everyone trailed after. You felt Ginny’s small hands pushing your back, and you began to gain speed. Fred hadn’t caught up, and you were coming closer and closer to him. You looked down but didn’t want to put your toes down to brake, in fear of scuffing up the floor. So, you let yourself fall into Fred’s arms.

The two of you stayed upright, but his long arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands fell to his chest, and his chin pressed against his neck as he looked down at you. His hair fell into his eyes, and yours fell gracefully in its natural place. You smiled, and he smiled, and soon you erupted into giggles at the silence behind you. George catcalled, and you stuffed your giggles into Fred’s chest, tucking your head under his chin. You felt him take a sharp inhale, and his arms became a little tighter around you.

When Mr. Weasley got home, he was accosted by his children.

“Dad!” They said in unison, all waiting for him by the door.

He jumped at the sight of them all, then began taking off his coat.

“Look at these!” Ginny said, pointing to your feet.

You did a little spin, careful not to make any marks on the floor. Fred watched you spin elegantly, your arms coming out a little like a ballerina.

“Remarkable!” Mr. Wealsey cried, moving to look at them.

Questions came from his mouth faster then you could answer them, and you slid the wheels against the floor under the table while you ate dinner.

“We had an idea, Dad,” Fred said, looking at you proudly.

“Yeah, think you’ll like it,” George added, glancing at you with a smirk and then looking back at his dad.

“We need you to conjure some sort of track outside,” Ron finished, talking with his mouth full.

“A track! That’s brilliant!” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, missing the worried look from his wife.

“It was Y/n’s idea, she’s brilliant,” Fred said, looking across the table at you.

You giggled as George made a gagging noise.

“With what? Stone?” Mrs. Weasley inquired, placing a hand on her hip.

“Oh no, they’re usually made of wood or asphalt,” you explained, “they have a whole building of them in the muggle world. People rent the skates and pay to skate on a big rink.”

Mr. Weasley's eyes widened with excitement, and Mrs. Weasley’s worry tamed.

“Let’s do it tonight.”

The eight of you walked to a clearing on the side of the house. It was where the boys usually played Quidditch, but it hadn’t been in use for days. Mrs. Weasley hadn’t stopped the boys from helping with the track, and you were grateful.

“Hold it higher, Ron!” Mr. Weasley called out, and Ron raised his father's wand with a bright orb of light coming from it.

The track was nearly done. It was huge, a large hoop secured to the ground. There was an enchanted orb of light in the center of the circle, and it illuminated the entire rink.

Your friends watched you blaze around the track, your hair whipping around behind your face, the sides of your cardigan flapping in the wind. You heard loud cheers when you successfully began skating backward.

The rest of your trip to The Burrow was spent out there. The boys were lifted from their punishments, and the rink became the one place you all went to when you woke up, and the last place you were before bed. Soon enough, though, your father appeared in the fireplace with your school trunk by his side. He quickly took back the bag you had been keeping at the Weasley's, and you went through your trunk one last time, making sure you had everything.

This year, walking through the train station, you were still stared at. But you didn’t care because an entire family surrounding you, and they all looked like you.

Your father gave you a lasting embrace before Fred followed you onto the train. He had waited for you, watching as you hugged your dad. He waved to your father, and his hand grazed your lower back as he walked behind you. The two of you found the compartment that had to be the most crowded of the lot.

Lee, Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Sarah, George, and now you and Fred, packed into a compartment, the entire room filled with busy conversation the entire ride.

It was weird to be in the Hufflepuff common room, your bedroom devoid of Ginny’s huffs as she rolled over to get comfortable, or Hermione’s anxious mumbles she said in her sleep. You pulled your blankets off of you, your legs feeling sore from the constant skating you had been doing for weeks.

Speaking of, you had made the decision to bring your skates to Hogwarts. You slipped them on, tightening the rainbow laces. You pointed your wand at the wheels and cast a silencing charm, so the turn of the wheels would be silent.

You carefully climbed the stairs from the Hufflepuff basement and looked both ways before you skated towards your destination.

Fred had been sitting under his covers, looking over the map as he usually did before he snuck to the kitchens. Out of habit, he looked at the Hufflepuff common room for your familiar name. He was shocked to see you across the castle, in a long-abandoned classroom. He suddenly lost his appetite and slid into some slippers.

He rested his forearm in the crook of the door, leaning against it. He watched you illuminated by the candles lit on the wall. You easily glided between the desks, twisting and turning, spinning, and navigating between them. His eyes followed you, your body moving naturally. He watched the sway of your hips as your wait transferred from foot to foot, the skates rolling against the smooth stone. You moved to the open space in the room, skating backward, your back to him. You turned just a few feet in front of him, and when you saw Fred, your surprise ran through your body. Your feet faltered and you bumped into a desk, making a loud crash.

He jumped from his spot in the doorway, closing the door behind him. He moved to you in two long strides, crouching to reach you on the floor.

“Are you alright?”

“You scared the shit out of me, Fred!” you said, smiling up at him.

“Couldn’t help it, I had to come see you,” he said smoothly, bringing the map from his back pocket.

“What? How did you know I was here?”

He unfolded a piece of paper and held it out to you. You took it in your hands and realized what it was. Before you could look at it for long, Fred took it back, a worried expression on his face.

“Filch is coming, he must have heard the noise,” Fred folded the map and put it back in his pocket.

Suddenly, his hands were on your waist, and he was guiding you to your feet. He looked around the room and saw the door to the supply closet.

With a wave of his wand, the flames of the candles were extinguished and he was pulling your gliding figure to the closet. The door closed just in time, and Filch burst in. You and Fred were pressed together, his hands still on your waist. You opened your mouth to ask him about the map, and one of his hands covered your mouth. He felt your soft lips, and his eyes locked onto yours. You heard Filch’s heavy feet stomping around the room and the screech of the desk against the floor.

Your mind was occupied by the lack of space between you, your back pressed to the door, and Fred’s warm hand on your face. He looked deeply at you, and his face was inches from yours.

You thought back to the day Ginny told you about how Fred felt, and you realized that you no longer had any hesitations about Fred. Standing this close to him, his leg slid between yours, his chest against yours, you felt what he felt. You fancied Fred.

Fred felt your lips curl into a smile beneath his hand. It was dark, so he couldn’t see your face, but he wished more than anything that he could. He heard the door close, and Filch was gone, but neither of you moved. Fred’s hand retracted from your mouth, moving to your neck. His fingers slipped under your hair, and his thumb rested in your jaw.

“Why did you come here?” you whispered.

“I like to watch you skate,” he answered, his voice devoid of any laughter.

“You’ve watched me skate for weeks,” you said quickly, inching your face closer to his, craning your neck to look up at him.

“I like to watch you,” he said without thinking, “I like you.”

You closed the space between you two. His lips were slow, and so were yours. You arched your back against the door, anything to get closer to him. His face was warm, and yours was cold. His lips pressed hard against yours, and the kiss held everything he had felt since he talked to you in the Three Broomsticks. It was all the nights he had ranted to George about you, all the times he had mentioned what little time it was until you’d finally be at The Burrow, all the times he looked at the map just to see your name, all the times his stomach had flipped just at the thought of you.

You pulled away, breathless, and he lowered his head to rest on your shoulder. His breathing was heavy, and your eyes had fluttered closed. He reached for his wand and said “Lumos,” just so he could see your pretty face and swollen lips.

He walked you back to the basement, and you shared another slow kiss. He had almost followed you down the stairs, watching you leave with your skates hanging from around your neck.

The next morning in the courtyard, Ginny was the first to notice.

“What happened?” she said, skeptical of your dazed face and the constant flush you had from just being near Fred.

He sat a few feet away in his own world, avoiding George and Lee’s conversation about the upcoming Hogsmeade trip.

You smiled at Ginny, and she furrowed her brows at you. You were about to tell her, but Ron fell with a thud onto the ground next to you.

“It’s been three bloody weeks and Snape’s already assigned 100 pages of reading,” Ron groaned, pulling a heavy textbook from under his arm. Hermione and Harry trailed behind him, sitting with much more grace than Ron had.

Hermione also noticed your at peace look and looked at you analytically.

You were finally able to tell them in the hall, during an extended period between classes.

“He kissed me last night,” you said with a blush.

“I told you!”

“Finally!”

You hushed them, a bashful smile coming to your lips. Fred passed the three of you, his eyes locked on yours as he walked. Over his shoulder, he sent you a flirty wink. You felt weak at the knees and was glad that you were leaning against a wall.

“Maybe he’ll ask you to Hogsmeade,” Hermione said, tugging you off the wall and in the opposite way Fred was walking. You looked over your shoulder to see him walking backward, watching you walk away.

“Knowing Fred, he’ll probably pull some elaborate prank or get fireworks to spell your name out,” Ginny said, watching you look at her brother.

Fred did something like that, the two of you in the courtyard, laying in the grass. He had pulled you from dinner just after you were dismissed, and he led you to the courtyard. You both stared at the sky, and he looked at you. You met his gaze and then he pointed at the sky.

In huge, shining, red words read “Y/n, Hogsmeade this weekend?”.

You smiled at him and nodded. His hand snaked to cup your cheek still laying down. He pulled you towards him, and you moved to look down at him, propped up on your elbow. His lips met yours, and the sound of more bursting fireworks flooded the air around you.

It was nearly Christmas now. You and Fred have been dating for a few weeks, and he invited you back to the Burrow for the holidays.

You accepted, and you trudged your heavy bag into the fireplace. It was filled with gifts for the Weasley’s, and you were feeling quite confident about it.

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed at school for the holidays, leaving you, George, Fred, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in front of a fire on Christmas eve.

You had called your father on your flip phone he had given you as an early Christmas present. He was coming over tomorrow for Christmas morning, and you felt incredibly content.

Coming back to the couch, tucking your phone into your pocket, you slipped back under Fred’s arm, curling into his side. Mr. Wealsey had already had a go at the device, and he just watched amazed at it fitting into your pocket so easily.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of your father’s booming voice downstairs. You sat up, stretching, and looked over to Ginny’s bed. It was empty, the covers were thrown aside. You slipped on a large cardigan, pulling it around your cold arms and going downstairs.

You were met with what felt like a dream. All the Weasley’s sat around the table, eating a huge Christmas breakfast and drinking tea. They each wore matching sweaters with their initials on them, and your father was standing with Mr. Weasley by the couch.

“Happy Christmas!” they all beamed at you.

Ginny tugged you over to the couch, sitting on one side of you while Fred sat on the other. Your father stood behind you on the couch, and a pile of presents were stacked in the room. You had brought your presents for the Weasley’s down last night, and you saw them on the ground.

Wrapping paper was everywhere, and the sound of happiness flooded the room. It finally came time for everyone to open what you had gotten them, and Fred went first. He tore away the red paper and held the plain box in his hands. He shook it, holding it up to his ear and smiling at you.

“Careful!” you told him, and he tore away the tape holding the box shut.

Inside, a brand new pair of garnet roller skates. He gasped, his large hands holding a skate up.

“Oh, my-” Mrs. Weasley said, already thinking of the awful thing he and George could do with those.

“It’s amazing!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you.

You returned the hug, and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas, Fred.”

Soon, all the Weasley’s were holding different colored skates, even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

#fred weasley #fred #weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley request #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you

726 notes · View notes

whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 3 years ago

Text

Texts from the Lost Tomb part 6.1

🎶 Back on the bullshit I never got off🎶

Is this another unnecessary story arc?? With three sections??

Yes.

Wushanju Crew Chat

Wang Meng: You know, I’m someone who appreciates consistency in my day. My life is pleasant, very few issues indeed if you ignore the big ones. And yet. Yet here we are. With unresolved messes at the end of a day.

Wang Pangzi: SOMETHIN YOU NEED TO SAY MARY POPPINS

Wang Meng: We need to talk about Huo Daofu and the glittery bead curtain.

Wang Pangzi: MY FAVE TEEN WIZARD SERIES

Wu Xie: did you turn on that suggested word thingy lol

What glittery bead curtain

Wang Meng: I closed the shop at 6:00pm this evening on the dot. I locked all of the doors in and out of the shop very carefully, especially in light of recent events. The hall leading to the back office was empty. I filed the day’s paperwork, updated and sent emails, and then spent an extra hour organizing receipts and dusting. When I came back out, there were glittery iridescent bead curtains over the front entrance to the shop.

What could this mean?

Wu Xie: uh that you need to spend less time at work?

Wang Pangzi: LOOKS LIKE WE GOT ONE FOR THE DETECTIVES. THE MYSTERY OF THE BEDAZZLED THRESHOLD COMMENCES

Wu Xie: I think we can be relatively secure in thinking a glittery bead curtain isn’t a hostile threat

Wang Pangzi: SAYS YOU

I REMEMBER YE OLDE EXPLORATION TIMES HOW FAST THINGS GOT FURIOUS

BEANBAG CHAIRS SET AFLAME AND LEFT ON DOORSTEPS AS A WARNING

GLITTERBOMBS FOR DAYS

PANIC AT THE DISCO

Wang Meng: Ugh, forget it. I should have just taken them down, regardless of who they belong to.

Zhang Qiling: They are not mine.

Wang Pangzi: A BOLD STATEMENT COMING FROM OUR PRIME SUSPECT

SOMEONE QUICK GO DRAW CHALK AROUND THE DOORWAY TO MARK THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Wang Meng: Do we know anyone who *would* sneak in and put those up? For whatever reason, legal or not? Even as a joke?

Wang Pangzi: ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ASKING WHETHER WE KNOW ANYONE WHO IS CHAOTIC, AN OUTLAW, A PRANKSTER AND/OR SNEAKS INTO PLACES

BECAUSE THAT WOULD MEAN OUR SUSPECT LIST IS LITERALLY EVERYONE WE KNOW EXCEPT FOR YOU.

Wu Xie: okay let’s think about this; for starters, I didn’t break into my own shop

Wang Meng: You would be in danger of doing some work in the process, that’s true.

Wang Pangzi: LOL

Wu Xie: ANYWAY let’s keep going. For example, Xiao Ge would only break in somewhere for a good reason. Xiao Ge, did you do this?

Zhang Qiling: No.

Wu Xie: okay who’s next

Wang Pangzi: YOU REALLY MISSED YOUR CALLING IN INTERROGATION TIANZHEN

REALLY PUT THE SCREWS TO HIM

IN MORE WAYS THAN ONE;)

Zhang Qiling: How can we be certain *you* didn’t do it?

Wang Meng: Admittedly that was my guess, too.

Wang Pangzi: WOW I SEE HOW IT IS

BLAME PANGZI AS USUAL

ANYWAY HOW DOES HUO DAOFU FIT INTO THIS

Wu Xie: Oh yeah him! Oops I got distracted

Wang Pangzi: UR ENTIRE HISTORY IN A NUTSHELL

Wu Xie: Ugh fuck off

Wang Meng what abt Huo Daofu??

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wu Xie: oh sorry xiaoge I didn’t realize you wouldn’t have spent much time around him last year

He and I go way back

Zhang Qiling: Way back where?

Babysitters Club Chat

Wang Pangzi: I CANNOT BELIEVE HE IS BUYING YOUR INNOCENT ACT

IF YOU EVER TURN TO EVIL WE ARE FUCKED

Zhang Qiling: ?

Wang Pangzi: YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHO HUO DAOFU IS

YOU WERE EXTREMELY POLITE AND BORDERLINE FRIENDLY TOWARDS HIM

Zhang Qiling: I wanted him to feel welcome. I wanted to be sure he understands he has a place here. A specific place.

Wang Pangzi: FOR A SILENT GUY YOU ARE A MASTER AT SUBTLE POWER PLAYS IM ALL TINGLY

LMAO THE IDEA OF WU XIE LEAVING YOU FOR HUO DAOFU IS HILARIOUS AND ALSO NOPE

Zhang Qiling: Rationally, I understand that.

Main Chat

Wang Meng: Huo Daofu is coming for the weekend—didn’t Wu Xie tell you? Wu Xie asked me to check in a week ahead so we could start getting ready for his arrival

Wu Xie: oh yeah I did do that

Wang Meng: Fortunately I know you and so I already went ahead and took care of everything.

Re: the trip

He made a deal with Wu Xie’s doctor that he would do periodic checkups on him here at Wushanju

Bc Wu Xie hates being in the hospital

And frankly the hospital hates him too

Wang Pangzi: FAMILIARITY BREEDS CONTEMPT LOL

I FORGOT HUO DAOFU WAS DOING THAT

A VERY CHIVALROUS GESTURE

WOULDNT YOU SAY

XIOAGE

Zhang Qiling: Is it safe for him to be here with a criminal loose on the premises?

Wu Xie: Right, back to the curtain! Let’s focus on the curtain, hmm?

Wang Pangzi: I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS WEEKEND.

ALSO WE CAN RULE OUT XIAO BAI FOR THE CURTAIN SHE JUST SENT A SELFIE FROM NORWAY COVERED IN GREEN SLIME WITH ZERO CONTEXT, UR PROTEGE INDEED

Wu Xie: okay but who else would do something so oddly charming yet illegal and—wait.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: hey, Glasses hasn’t been in touch lately right?

Li Cu: uh nope

Unless u count the outdated memes

Why, is money or Xie Yuchen missing

Or is this curtain related, I saw Wang Meng’s tweet

Wu Xie: haha no nothing to worry about really

(I mean maybe? but who knows)

Wang Meng is probably just getting a little paranoid in his old age

Li Cu: better than getting reckless and stupid as hell in ur old age

Wu Xie: …hey:(

Unknown Number: Li Cu, we discussed this.

Wu Xie: ????????

Li Cu: *sigh* fine, reckless and stupid as heck

Unknown Number: …close enough.

Wu Xie: EXCUSE who is that

Madame, Sir, Non-Binary Tree Spirit, etc—whomst the fuck

Are you

Li Cu is underage FYI

So Im staying on this chat

Li Cu: okay first of all, it’s not like that

Second of all I’m literally not underage I s2g

u threw the embarrassing surprise bday party, okay so u should remember

And C, that’s my counselor and I invited her. She wanted to meet u and I knew u wouldn’t agree to a visit so I added her to our chat

we have been discussing u

Wu Xie: Oh wow!!!!!!!

What a surprise:)

hi so nice to meet you:)

Main Chat:

Wu Xie: RED FUCKING ALERT

FUCK THE CURTAIN FUCK THE VISIT

IVE BEEN TRICKED INTO FAMILY THERAPY BY A SMUG TEENAGER WHO TEXTS UNKNOWN NUMBERS

Wang Meng: I assume that means something to someone here?

Not my problem? Good.

Wang Pangzi: AHAHAHA GOD I LOVE LI CU

HES LIKE ADORABLE KARMA FOR ALL THE SHIT YOUVE PUT ME THROUGH

IM RAISING HIS ALLOWANCE

Wu Xie: wait i give him an allowance

has he been collecting on two allowances??

Zhang Qiling: Three. I knew about both of yours.

Snake Eyes Chat

Wu Xie: so uh may I ask your name?

Unknown Number: you can call me Ms. Lee.

Now, if you’re comfortable talking in this format, why don’t you tell me how things have been going?

Wu Xie: oh everything is normal and fine and safe as usual, why do you ask:)

Li Cu: I heard about ur necklace thing. nice of you to NOT mention it.

another dangerous adventure. again. prick.

Ur lucky your cool boyfriend cares about you so much or you’d have already died like ten years ago

Wu Xie: lol try twenty years ago

Li Cu: That isn’t funny.

Unknown Number: …What?

Wu Xie: shit ur right, okay that was a bit glib, my apologies.

…I use humor as a coping mechanism?

Unknown Number: and Li Cu, how do you feel about that?

Li Cu: he doesn’t even know what that phrase means

He doesn’t cope, like ever

In fact

It’s kind of why we met

Which is a funny story in retrospect tbh

Wu Xie: haha what are you talking about sweetie hahaha need I remind you of certain anecdotes that could idk send me to jail maybe lmao

Unknown Number: …You know, perhaps an in-person meeting might be more effective?

Wu Xie: haha such a nice idea but why

Main Chat

Wu Xie: If I go to jail, I’ll have to create alliances for protection, right, that’s how it works on tv

Who do we know who spends time in jail

Other than Hei Yangjing, he’s only ever there for like 12 hours and i suspect he just gets himself arrested bc he enjoys the breaking out process

Also how’s the curtain case coming along

Zhang Qiling: Has someone threatened you?

Wu Xie: well not yet but soon I’m sure

Wang Pangzi: WHERE WAS THIS PARANOIA WHEN WE GOT TAKEN TO THE TEA HOUSE HUH

Snake Eyes Minus Your Fucking Therapist Chat

Li Cu: okay how tf did u pull off spy and undercover shit

u are sus as hell

Wu Xie: damn son is it pick on Wu Xie night

I missed the flyers or I would’ve invited my uncles

Also re: the curtain it’s been mostly solved

Li Cu: I’m not your son, idiot.

Wu Xie: …oh. Sorry, sorry, you’re right, bad choice of words, haha

Forget i said anything

Delete this chat even

Li Cu: shit I meant

Legally, biologically, I meant—

shit

…I turn into an asshole as a coping mechanism?

Wu Xie: oh that’s all okay! I have to go do something else now let me know if you need anything okay kid thanks!

Li Cu: goddamn it calm down who’s the kid here

lemme organize my thoughts so I can articulate my emotions fuckin healthily or w/e

Ugh maybe for like one afternoon we could go to Ms. Lee together? She knows how to word stuff

Wu Xie: uh…okay.

Li Cu: Anyway you don’t need to worry abt jail

As if you would survive prison for one day you’d piss off half the place in like an hour or less

I gave Ms. Lee the heavily edited version of the desert highway to hell roadtrip and i discussed it more in terms of like “nightmarish but still wouldn’t take any of it back”

Well maybe the sand

that shit was everywhere

Wu Xie: oh kiddo. It’s fine, really…You don’t have to explain yourself to me.

Li Cu: no, no it’s just

I do technically have a dad

who is an asshole. Being a son doesn’t really mean shit to me bc it sucked.

So you need to stop backing down just cuz ur guilty abt stuff. I’m really really glad ur not my dad in a good way. Do u get what I mean there

Where’s the mafia widower I followed into hell, huh

Wu Xie: Ur a good kid, despite my influence. I’m really glad you have someone to talk to after everything I…after everything. Wow this talking through feelings thing is kind of weird but nice ur right

Jfc no wonder it took me and xiaoge so long to—you know what, we won’t get into that

Li Cu: ew tmi

Also re: this week’s recent necklace fuckery

I moved my stuff here, I live here now

So you can’t die anymore

Or else…Idk I don’t have a threat planned

anyways abt the curtain

Wu Xie: oh my god, kid…kid you have no idea

I am in tears.

Li Cu: see this is why I can’t be nice to you I can sense the hallmark channel from here

Ugh don’t be sad in ur room that’s dumb

Go hug Pangzi or something

Maybe delete this chat

Or the curtain thing

Focus on the curtain thing

Just stfu and go away

Wu Xie: <3 screenshotting this <3

Li Cu: I take back everything I said. This is why Xiao Ge sleeps on the roof. I hope the ghosts of the Wangs put up that curtain to strangle you somehow. Go die in a stupid way, it’ll suit you.

Wu Xie: lol don’t worry I’m not gonna embarrass you with it or anything

Main Chat

Wu Xie: omg guys look how cute my kid is *sending screenshot*

Wang Pangzi: I MEAN

HE IS WISHING YOU DEATH

BUT SURE

CUTE I GUESS

Wu Xie: no but read the whole thing:):):)

Zhang Qiling: It is indeed very hard to remain angry with you. And you are welcome to join me on the roof.

Wang Pangzi: UH NOPE

NOT WHENI HAD TO BLEACH THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN

DONT TRAUMATIZE THE EARLY BIRDS THEYRE ALREADY FREAKED OUT BY U YA HOODIE CRYPTID

Wu Xie: ok true but babe ur like a sexy cryptid

Wang Meng: so, are we just accepting that there is a glittery curtain of unknown origin, and Huo Daofu is going to have to see it while he’s waiting for you at Wushanju bc you’re going to family therapy?

Wu Xie: right

Wang Pangzi: SHOULDA TAKEN EARLY RETIREMENT HUH

Wang Meng: I’m going to go dust something.

Unnamed Chat:

Unknown number: so the curtain…

Unknown number 2: yep, not my best work but I kinda panicked last minute u know

Unknown number: what is in the water at Wushanju that makes everyone dumb and attractive

Unknown number 2: relax they’ll figure it out

#ultimate note #whomst #wu xie #dmbj #the lost tomb #pingxie #iron triangle

36 notes · View notes

cloudywriter · 4 years ago

Text

camp staghorn - 4

it’s finally here - been a second ik. updates may be a tad slow these coming two weeks because so much stuff is about to be going on but hang tight. i might extend the story and just have the parts be a little shorter so it’s more manageable because right now it’s suppose to be around 9 parts. anyway, enjoy!

masterlist, AO3, main masterlist

~~~

Hours later the memory of Rowan’s face as he wrapped the towel around her was still drifting around Aelin’s mind like a feather in the wind.

He looked so unguarded, his features soft and his perpetual frown absent. Aelin wished she could have paused time right there. She wished she could’ve taken a moment to study him. It made her want to pick up a pencil and sketch him though the most she could draw would be a lopsided stick figure. If she were an artist she would’ve made him her muse.

Her campers, however, demanded revenge, an eye for an eye. As far as they were concerned, Rowan had made a direct attack on Aelin. A punishable offense. They’d been eagerly chattering all afternoon, developing plan after plan of intricate ways to right Rowan’s wrong. Aelin, though, was a little preoccupied.

She desperately needed to snap out of it, she needed to splash some cold water on her face and come back to reality. Rowan had trespassed into their camp site and outwardly tampered with their plumbing, she couldn’t let it go now.

No, Aelin Galathynius wasn’t really the kind of girl who let things go. It didn’t matter how attractive the perpetrator was.

Aelin and her girls now found themselves roaming aimlessly through the main camp. Technically it was their rest time when they were supposed to cool down and get out of the sun for a while. They were on a different mission though, they needed to scope out Rowan’s camp.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before they were found. His boys were loud and rambunctious their voices led Aelin’s group right to them like a bread trail in the woods. They were on the rock wall, taking turns racing each other up while the others cheered from below.

Each boy was suited up in harnesses and helmets. Aelin might’ve spent a little too long checking out Rowan. He was at the bottom of the wall with a rope attached to his harness, acting as one of the counselors managing the boys as they climbed up and then propelled down.

Aelin deduced it was the perfect time to strike, they were distracted and unsuspecting. He likely didn’t intend for her to have a new plan up her sleeve so soon.

Aelin and her girls kept their distance, crouched behind a line of tall pine trees that acted as the perfect cover.

“Well, ladies, what’s the plan?” Aelin inquired.

The girls gave each other a few affirming nods, silently agreeing upon a plan.

“We think we should put a butt load of salt into their water jugs back at camp,” Ansel finally spoke up.

“You think?”

“Yeah, they’ll have to be thirsty now and drink all their water. Then they’ll have to fill them up when they get to camp,” Borte declared.

Aelin decided to let her girls take the lead on this one and agreed. “Well, let’s go grab all the salt shakers from the dining hall.”

The girls nodded their heads in excitement, racing back down the path. Aelin followed behind, making sure none of their commotion drew unwanted attention.

After conjuring up at least 14 salt shakers and even an extra container of salt they found in a cabinet they trekked to cabin 1E as denoted on the map in the front of the dining hall.

That map has turned out to be quite convenient indeed.

They went to work quickly, splitting up and unscrewing the lids of the three multi-gallon water dispensers around the boys’ camp. Their hour of rest was quickly coming to a close and they needed to execute their plan quickly.

Aelin and the girls dumped generous amounts of salt into each jug. Ansel even made rounds stirring each one with a stick.

“Where did you get that stick?” Aelin asked.

“The ground,” Ansel replied simply, continuing to stir in the white granules.

“And you're stirring their water with it?” Aelin clarified.

“They’ll survive,” Ansel said earnestly as she removed the stick from one water jug and started on another. Aelin only shrugged, she probably wasn’t wrong.

The girls heard laughter from afar and perked up.

“Put the lids back on!” Aelin commanded quietly. The girls scrambled to cover the water again and camouflage themselves in the forest.

Aelin tightened the lid on the remaining jug and raced to join her girls concealed behind the trees and undergrowth.

The laughing got louder as the group got closer and closer, making their way up the rough dirt path. When they came into view Aelin could tell with their sweaty, flushed faces that they were definitely in need of water.

Much to Aelin’s luck as soon as Rowan came over the slight incline he started filling his empty water bottle with the dispenser situated just outside his camp’s cabin. The other boys also lined up at the various water stations, taking turns.

“Rowan,” one of the boys spoke up. “This water tastes funny.”

“Camp water always tastes funny,” another boy replied. “I’m sure it’s okay,” Rowan insisted. He squirted some water over his face in an attempt to cool off after being in the hot sun for hours. His cheeks were red, heated by the sun, it made his green eyes impossibly greener to the point they resembled the bright green of the surrounding foliage. He ran a hand down his face and through his hair.

Immediately, as soon as the water hit the boys’ tongues, they started spitting it out, Rowan included. A few yucks and why is it so salty could be heard, but the best part was definitely the boys’ faces. Even Rowan’s was morphed into an expression of pure repulse.

Aelin’s girls struggled to contain their giggles, clamping their hands over their mouths in a futile attempt to stifle them. Rowan seemed to be the only boy to clue into the muffled noises coming from the forest that definitely weren’t the chatter of songbirds. Aelin could tell his eyes were searching the surrounding greenery, on the lookout for anything amiss.

“Alright, I’ll go get us some fresh water, okay guys?” Rowan decided.

The boys nodded their agreement, a few still wiping at their mouths. Rowan turned around, starting down the path back to the main camp once again. A few of the girls around Aelin gave each other silent high fives, celebrating their successful prank. One more point for Aelin.

Aelin was about to suggest that they move out and get ready to feign innocence back at lunch when a pair of thick arms wrapped around her waist and hoisted her up.

“Thought you were sneaky, huh?” Rowan spoke directly into Aelin’s ear, his breath ruffling the golden blonde hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

Rowan spun her around and exclaimed to his boys, “I’ve caught the offender!”

Her campers were playing along, pulling at Rowan’s shirt, trying to save their counselor. Even Aelin was laughing as she was trying to wiggle out of Rowan’s strong embrace but he kept her back pressed firmly to his chest.

“What should we do with her boys?” Rowan asked.

“Make her walk the plank!” A boy with curly brown hair shouted, punching his fist in the air.

“Alright,” Rowan conceded and began dramatically leading Aelin towards the dock down by the lake.

“No! Rowan, no, please!” Aelin began struggling but she couldn’t keep the smile off of her face.

“What else do you suggest, princess? I can’t just let you go free after committing such a crime.”

Aelin shifted just enough so she could face Rowan better, “I’ll do anything,” she breathed in such a way that she knew it would catch Rowan off guard. Just as she predicted, Rowan’s arms loosened for a second. Men were just too easy.

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. Rowan chased her, twigs snapping close behind. She bolted, swatting low hanging branches out of her way and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. She could hear Rowan following but losing ground as the forest grew denser.

Aelin took the moment of reprieve gratefully and tore out of Rowan’s grasp, dashing back into the forest for cover. She knew Rowan was chasing after her by the sound of twigs snapping close behind. She increased her speed, swatting at low hanging branches and gritting her teeth as thorns tore at her shins, but she couldn’t afford to be caught again. Rowan began to lose ground as the forest grew denser while Aelin was able to maneuver through from years of experience playing hide and seek in the woods with Aedion.

The forest suddenly opened up into a small meadow, long grass and bright wildflowers swayed back and forth with the breeze. Aelin looked back to determine Rowan’s position for only a moment when he was on her, pulling her down into the delicate green grass that spread across the field like a blanket.

They were both panting and could still hear the shouting of their campers through the trees. Aelin and Rowan were both on their backs, gulping down air.

“You know I’ll have to get you back for that now.”

Aelin pinched his side, “I know.”

Rowan only swatted her hand away before pushing himself back up to his feet. He held a hand out for Aelin, an offer. Aelin decided to take it, allowing him to effortlessly pull her to her own feet. He held onto her hand for a beat longer than necessary before letting it return back to her side.

Rowan was studying Aelin, making her suddenly feel self-conscious. Was there grass in her hair?

“What are you staring at?” Aelin finally caved.

Rowan smirked. “Nothing, just thinking about how I should repay you for that salt water fiasco.”

“Do your worst, Whitethorn.”

“I intend to, Galathynius.”

~~~

hope y’all like it so far & you’ll get some more rowan’s part of the story & his revenge in the next part. very fun. xoxo. let me know if you wanna be added to my rowaelin taglist!

taglist: @live-the-fangirl-life // @rowaelinismyotp // @gosuckadickghostman // @camilamartinezdunne //

#rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #aelin ashryver galathynius #aelin #rowan whitethorn #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin fluff #camp staghorn

44 notes · View notes

kthstrawberryshortcake · 5 years ago

Text

Headcanons / Reactions: BTS and matching couple things

This was just something random I thought was cute.

I initially planned to write it as a reaction but the ideas flowed out better in headcanon / bullet form, so here you go!

Unedited because I am a trash gremlin. x

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

Namjoon

You’d been spending a lot of time in Namjoon’s studio lately

You took it as a chance just to be together in the same place, even when he was working

For a long while it was just you sitting there and reading while he did his thing

But gradually, he started asking your opinion on things

He’d have you listen to things and give your thoughts

He came to really value your opinion, telling you you had a good instinct for that sort of thing

You loved that you could be helpful to him for something beyond bringing food when he was busy

Of course, you were his most important emotional support as well

But his valuing your ideas when it came to his work meant a lot to you

You arrived at his studio one day when he was in the bathroom, so it was empty

Next to his headphones sat a new pair, a little different from his, with gold-tone accents on it, making them prettier too

Then you noticed the key detail

They had your initials on them

It felt like his way of saying, “you’re part of this now too”, and you felt yourself getting teary-eyed

He walked back in the room a minute later only for you to pull him into a hug, grinning widely

He laughed a little at your enthusiasm but held you tightly, giving your forehead a quick kiss before saying it was time to work

He sat down in his chair and gestured to the seat next to him

Jin

Jin got a little carried away sometimes

When the combination of matching couple stuff and his pride and joy RJ presented itself it was too much to resist

If he hadn’t looked so adorably excited when showing you what he’d gotten you definitely would’ve laughed

He had no joke ordered you matching RJ-print underwear

You were kind of simultaneously endeared and horrified

Then again you knew that you were in love with an actual crazy person so you shouldn’t have been shocked

So because Jin was too adorable to say no to when it came to silly things like this you went along with it

Plus you weren’t counting on anyone ever seeing the aforementioned embarrassing matching underwear

But you should’ve known there was no way the boys weren’t gonna find out and tease you both relentlessly about it

You slept over one night and ended up wearing the matching underwear

It was a warm night so you just wore the underwear and one of Jin’s t-shirts

By morning you’d both pushed all the covers off yourselves because of getting too hot in the night

It was still early so you were both fast asleep, you laying face down with your head on Jin’s chest

And, just your luck, Jimin had some question to ask Jin and came into the room without knocking

He froze when he realized you’d slept over so Jin wasn’t alone, thinking he probably SHOULD have knocked

All those thoughts went out the window when he realized that you two were wearing MATCHING RJ UNDERWEAR

It was everything Jimin could do to hold in his laughs but since he hadn’t woken the pair of you, he ran to get the guys

So that is how the other 6 boys ended up in the doorway trying not to laugh loud enough to wake you

I’m not sure I’ve you’ve noticed but they’re not particularly quiet so naturally they ended up waking Jin with their snickering

When he realized what was going on he hopped out of bed and shooed the boys away

Right before he shut the door he yell-whispered “You are so lucky she’s a heavy sleeper!”

And, predictably, neither you nor Jin EVER heard the end of it from the guys, who thought it was HILARIOUS

Yoongi

It was yours and Yoongi’s 2nd anniversary and you were about to depart for a rare weekend away

You’d been hearing about all the cute matching couple stuff that had being going on with the other members

You didn’t even think about matching things for you and Yoongi, knowing he would never agree to it

Sure he was a sweet marshmallow on the inside but the man was a straight up tsundere

So you didn’t even mention the matching thing to him

But Yoongi was incredibly observant, noticing far more than most realized

In this case, he noticed even more than YOU had realized

He’d seen the spark of amusement in your eyes when the matching concept came up in conversation

If nothing else, he thought, you found it to be entertaining

He decided to surprise you with some matching couple items, but he was going to do it his way

As soon as you were settled in your seats on the plane, he silently pulled his surprise out of the bag

They were matching eye masks for sleep

You told him how cute it was, only for him to insist that they were just a practical item for travel

You knew, and he knew that you knew, that it had been an intentional gesture of love

You didn’t push it, just enjoyed his surprising you

The pair of you fell asleep on the plane holding hands, both happily wearing your matching eye masks

Hoseok

Hoseok wasn’t really the “spends his days writing you sonnets and dedicating monuments to his love for you” romantic

That didn’t mean he didn’t really, really love you

Instead of constant words of affection he would give you little surprises

Sometimes they were small gifts, other times cute dates or even just showing up at your door with pizza for an impromptu movie night

You never for a minute had to doubt how he felt about you

He really was the sunshine in your life

It was early fall just when the weather was beginning to cool off

When you were hanging out with the boys for game night at their dorm, Hobi gave you one of his small surprises

He told you that half of the present was actually for him, which made you incredibly skeptical as to what that would mean

You pulled one hoodie out of the bag, then another

There were matching hoodies for the two of you

His said “her hope” on the back while yours said “his angel”

It seemed silly to cry over a hoodie but it really was just the sweetest present

Of course you later had an abundance of photos of the two of you from behind, holding hands while wearing your hoodies

It was kind of cheesy, really

But you loved the way it so simply told you (and everyone else) that you and Hobi belonged to each other

Jimin

Jimin wanted to give you something special for your anniversary

The whole “matching couple stuff” concept was really appealing to him

It was a small sign that you were his and he was yours, and it was there for all to see

He loved that idea, so he set out to find something that you’d like

It took him a long time to think of something that wasn’t just too generic

That is, until he thought about things you always said to each other

There were lots of little sayings and inside jokes between you, but one stood out in particular for this purpose

The two of you were always saying that he was your king and you were his queen

You both knew that was pretty cheesy but you kinda loved that

Jimin found matching rings that were crown-shaped, just enough to be obvious without looking tacky

They were actually really beautiful and he hoped you’d like it

Well, you LOVED it

Exactly as Jimin had hoped, the two of you got questions about them whenever you were apart

Not that you could ever forget each other in the first place, but it was a little reminder of your love in your everyday lives

Taehyung

Taehyung was telling you the hilarious story about the matching RJ underwear

You thought it was funny but you also defended the concept a little, saying it was kinda cute that they matched

The conversation moved on from there and you thought Tae had just forgotten about it, but noooo

Your casual comment about the matching being cute had gotten the little wheels turning in his head

Being, well, himself, he ended up taking the concept to a whole other level

He took the idea of matching and did it in the most sophisticated way possible

Next time the boys had some award show to go to, to which you were accompanying Tae, you were in for a surprise

Your dress was custom and in the most gorgeous patterned silky fabric

You were shocked when Taehyung showed you the lining of his jacket

It was the exact. same. fabric.

So he HAD been listening to you finding the matching idea cute

If that wasn’t enough, he had also gotten a little bowtie collar made for Tannie in the same fabric

You thought it was ADORABLE but were a little confused as to why, since Tan obviously wasn’t coming to the event

Well, your totally extra boyfriend had planned to have a photographer do family pictures of the three of you before you left

It was really quite sweet

It also taught you to be VERY careful what you said you liked around Tae, because he definitely remembered

Jungkook

It was your birthday

As long as you’d known him Jungkook had always been great at picking out meaningful gifts for the people in his life

You would’ve been happy just spending the day with him, honestly

But Jungkook was ridiculously in love with you, and also, as you were all too aware by now, very sentimental

He wanted to do something special

When you opened the gift you almost cried

He had drawn the two of you in a cartoonish style

The drawing itself was absolutely adorable

He’d also had it put on the back of a phone case for you.

He smiled at your reaction and held up his own phone, which had an identical case, saying “now we match!”

It probably was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for you

As much as you teased him for being sappy at times, you loved that about him

You loved everything about him really

Best birthday ever

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

That’s all folks. <3

I love feedback so send some over please!

#bts #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts headcanon #bts headcanons #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts drabble #bts drabbles

359 notes · View notes

oldanatomical-heartt · 5 years ago

Text

Unwanted Wingwoman

Okay this one won’t be the best because I wrote it when I was fourteen so. You get the idea.

Summary: reader likes Peter but from afar. When your best friend finds out about your crush on him, she attempts to set you up. Her plan fails, but she doesn’t know that

Peter Parker. Where could you begin? He was sweet, funny, and you would never admit it but he was absolutely adorkable. He sat one row in front and two seats to the right of you in your honors chemistry class, and just the thought of him made your heart flutter. You snapped back to reality and your friends' eager faces in a circle around you at your sleepover.

"Well? You obviously like someone so who is it?" Your best friend (F/N) asked excitedly.

"I-uh," you started.

"I bet it's that Flash kid, he's totally your type (Y/N)," another one of your friends stated, making an awful attempt at a guess.

"Ew no way, how could you even think he's my type?" You questioned, crinkling your nose in disgust.

"What is your type then?" another asked, a sly smile on her face.

"Uh- I dunno, I mean, he's gotta be nice-"

"-pssh, everybody says that."

“-and he should have a sense of humor too, but not like stupid funny because he should be smart too."

"Yes, yes, we get it what about looks (Y/N)!"

"Oh, I uh- I don't really care... about- about what he looks like," you stuttered.

"Guys were getting way off topic she has a specific someone in mind!" (F/N) said, redirecting the conversation.

"Yeah who is it?"

"Tell us (Y/N)!"

"I will make you extra popcorn for the movie," (other F/N) bargained.

"Guys chill, you probably don't even know him, it's uh- Pete-Peter- Peter Parker," your voice caught in your throats from nerves when you finally said his name.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" (F/N) screamed.

"Oh my god (F/N) be quiet or my parents will hear!" You hushed.

Just as quickly as the moment where all the attention was on you had begun, it was over and the small party went back to even smaller groups of two or three chatting, while your best friend turned back to you.

"How could you not tell me? I could've been dropping hints all this time!"

"Because that's exactly what I don't want you to do," you nervously laughed, already pondering what might happen now in chemistry since (F/N) sat directly to the right of Peter.

"Now I know why I caught you looking over at me all the time, it's actually because you were looking at Peter!"

You blushed, thinking about how much you stared at the back of his head. You could probably create a very accurate drawing of some sort from how long the image was burned into your brain.

"Shut up, it's not a crime."

The rest of the night went smoothly, eventually watching a movie but not without (F/N) asking you a question about Peter every ten minutes. When morning came you said goodbye to all your friends one by one as their parents came to pick them up, except for (F/N). As you were saying goodbye to the last friend, you turned around to see (F/N) on your phone, typing away.

"(F/N) oh my god what are you doing now?" You whined, plopping down on the stairs next to her.

"Aaaaaaand sent!" She whipped her head to look at you.

Your eyes went wide in fear as you snatched your phone from her hand to see a sent text message to a number you didn't recognize saying, "Hey Peter it's (Y/N) from chemistry."

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god what did you do?" You asked, violently running your hands through your hair, a habit you do when you are anxious.

"I gave you a gentle push," (F/N) said smiling evilly.

"I cannot believe you! What do I say if he texts back?"

"Anything!"

"I can't just say anything (F/N) oh my god what did you do!"

"Relax, it'll all work out! I swear I'm a love goddess," (F/N) replied, suggestively winking at the love goddess part.

"Ew, yeah right," you giggled at your friend's actions.

"Anyways, pancakes? We can find a quick recipe on Pinterest or something," (F/N) said, starting off your day.

—————————

You anxiously grip you backpack straps as you stand at your locker, mentally preparing yourself to walk into chemistry. You still hadn't gotten a reply from Peter, which means he read it but didn't answer since it'd been a whole day.

"Ready?" (F/N) said, coming up behind you.

"Yep, let's go," you said uneasily as you shut your locker.

You and (F/N) walked into class and set your stuff down at your respective seats before you wandered over to her desk, as Peter hadn't entered class yet.

"Okay, just promise me you won't do anything weird, alright?" You pleaded.

"No promises, (Y/N)," (F/N) teased.

"I love you, but I swear to god you'll be the death of me," you sighed.

You tensed as your eyes landed on the doorway that Peter had just walked through. You scurried back to your seat to avoid embarrassment from either (F/N) or yourself. He looked a bit off today, you could tell he was stressed. He put his bag down and took his seat, resting his head on his forearms on the desk. Unfortunately, the bell rang immediately after, forcing Peter to look up and you to pay attention.

“I assume everyone took notes on last nights reading?" Your teacher, Mrs. Hanniack, said as she closed the door and strutted to the front of the room.

A collective yes fizzled from the class as Mrs. Hanniack started up the projector.

"Very well, because you're going to be using that knowledge on today's partner project."

You quietly sighed, taking a quick glance at your lab partner who sat to your right. It wasn't that you didn't like him, well, you didn't, but he never did any of the work because he never knew how which led to you explaining the procedure and the lesson at least twice all the way through to him while simultaneously trying to actually do the experiment.

"Unfortunately," your teacher continued, "some students have been receiving a grade they should not be getting because their partner does all the work. So, for this project, you can pick your lab partner, but choose someone who will contribute to the lab."

Your eyes immediately went to Peter but quickly skipped over him to (F/N) as not to offend her. She was smiling back at you nodding, so you shuffled your papers and made your way over to her, then pulled the chair from the desk in front of her and reversed it so you sat across from her. Peter hadn't gotten up yet and was looking around the room so you held your breath in worry that (F/N) would say something to tease you. Luckily, Peter stood up and walked away so you let out your breath.

"Alright, let's get going, I don't want any homework," you stated, looking over the procedure directions.

"Class," your teacher called, making you turn your head towards the front of the room where she stood.

You saw Peter looking at her with wide eyes and a slightly red face as she continued.

"Turns out we have an odd number today and Peter doesn't have a partner. Anyone willing to have a gr-"

"We'll take him!" (F/N) said, raising her hand and rapidly standing up.

With wide shocked eyes, you stared at (F/N) and glanced back at Peter, whose red face was turning back to normal. Your face, however, probably had a pink tint to it as you felt the heat rush to it.

"Well that sure was embarrassing," Peter chuckled, sitting in his seat.

"It's not that big of a deal, you just didn't have a partner," (F/N) shrugged.

"Yeah, the only one," Peter rolled his eyes and placed his head in his hands, propped up by his elbows.

Slowly, he rolled his head and parted his fingers enough to peer at you through them.

"(Y/N), right?"

Your face flushed red as you fearfully glanced at (F/N), then back to Peter and nodded.

"I got your text, sorry I didn't reply, I was a little... uh- busy."

"It's cool, yeah, sorry."

"Sorry?" He chuckled, "What for?"

You glanced back at (F/N) again, not knowing what to say.

"It's just a thing she does," (F/N) said.

"I dunno, I just felt like I was bothering you? I know I wasn't you don't need to say I wasn't I just feel like that a lot, even with (F/N), and she's told me countless times I'm not so I-I should know by now but I just-" you were cut off from your rambling from (F/N) clearing her throat

"Shall we get going?" (F/N) said, dramatically gesturing to the lab sheet.

"Oh yeah."

The three of you worked quickly, all being good at science, but you were a little less good at vocalizing your thoughts as they were a little jumbled by Peter's presence. You didn't let your silly crush stop you from trying your hardest to finish and maybe impress Peter while doing so. You all were nearly halfway finished when (F/N) abruptly stood up, causing you and Peter to snap your hearts towards her.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she simply stated

"Okay..." Peter replied, drawing out the a.

"You mean, like, right now?" You teased.

"(Y/N) shut up, no not right now!" She glared at you until she seemed to realize something and smiled sweetly, too sweetly.

"Anyways," she continued, "I'm not actually going to the bathroom. I'm just saying that to give you both some alone time. Peter, I know (Y/N) has something she wants to tell you."

(F/N) winked at Peter and your jaw dropped ten feet. You could feel the blood rushing to your face and it was no doubt beet red as you watched (F/N) flounce away to the teacher to ask for a bathroom pass.

"What is it?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.

"What- what's what?" You asked, not making eye contact.

"What that was, what you want to- to tell me."

"It-it's nothing really, (F/N) is just- just trying to start- uh- drama, you- you know how she is."

"No, I really don't."

"Re-really? Start-starting drama is her favorite hobby, I- I can't tell you the number of times she- she publicly embarrassed me just to get a- a story out of it!"

"Jeez, that doesn't sound very friend-like, and aren't you guys best friends?"

"Yeah, we are. She means well, plus it- it's never something to be mad over."

"Sorry to call attention to it, but do you always stutter? I don't mean to offend you if you have one, it's nothing to be self-conscious of, it's just I didn't notice it earlier."

"O-oh! I uh," you took a deep breath trying to soothe your nerves, "N-no, I just stumble over my words a lot when I'm uh- when I'm nervous.

Peter let out a laugh, "Why are you nervous? I don't bite."

Your face flushed at his words, causing him to drop his smile.

"Un-unless you're nervous because I make you uncomfortable. If I make you uncomfortable just say when and I'll try to correct myself because I would never try to make you feel bad, please, believe me."

"No, no, it's nothing like that," you assured him.

"Oh good. Well, are you sure it's really nothing?"

"Yeah," you paused, staring into his dark eyes for a moment, "yeah I'm sure."

(F/N) returned and plopped herself down in her seat.

"So, did she tell you?"

Peter looked at you and smiled, deciding to go along with what he thought was (F/N) attempting to spark drama.

"Oh yeah," he said, "she told me everything."

"Oh my god she did NOT!" (F/N) exclaimed, smiling ear to ear at you, "I didn't think you could do it!"

You face was painted with worry because you had to say something to (F/N) to let her know you didn't tell Peter about your crush without him knowing (F/N) was actually talking about something.

"Uhh (F/N)?" you said, but went unheard by her loud excited tone.

"How did she say it? Was she all awkward and stutter-y? I know she was but I need confirmation from a witness. What did you say back?"

"No actually, no stuttering. She was really cool about it, and I said that I feel exactly the same way on the topic," Peter said, smiling at you, oblivious to your increasingly panicked state.

"(F/N)?" you said again, more worriedly.

"Seriously? I'm so proud of you (Y/N), with how much you stutter when talking about him I was sure you'd be extra bad when actually talking to him."

Peter shot you a confused look, and your face heated up. Was he still oblivious and didn't realize she was talking about you talking about him? Or had he caught on?

"(F/N)..." you said through gritted teeth.

"Oh man, she's gonna hate me for telling you this, but she totally stares at you all the time during class. I always thought she was looking at me though, can you believe she didn't tell me until two days ago? And I thought best friends always tell each other their crushes immediately. Took her so long to tell me about the one on you. Anyways, since you said you feel the same, I'm assuming there's a date coming up?"

Peter's face morphed into a blank look, and his eyes slowly dragged themselves from (F/N) to you, a blushing red mess, and you immediately folded your arms on the table and smushed your face into them.

“(F/N)... I didn't tell him," you sputtered in defeat.

There was a pause, for what seemed like an eternity.

"(Y/N), I am so sorry, I thought you did."

The bell rang, but you remained unmoving, hoping the both of them would leave and you could walk to English alone. The class was filled with shuffling papers and bags, but you could faintly hear Peter and (F/N) talking, but it wasn't loud enough for you to hear. After the room quieted down, you slowly raised your head up and began to put your things together, thankful that they had both left. However, when you walked out of the classroom, you noticed Peter standing just outside the doorway.

"Uh, (Y- (Y/N), can we um, can we talk?"

"Uh, ye- yeah, I guess, but I got to- I got to get to English."

"No problem I can uh- walk you there. It's my lunchtime so it doesn't matter if I'm late."

...Perfect... You had a tendency to run away from your problems, not face them, so you wanted to curl up in a ball and pretend the whole thing never happened, not talk to the boy who just found out about your secret crush on him.

"I uh- so first off- um, is it true?" Peter asked, his voice soft, eyes mostly plastered to the floor, but shooting the occasional glance at you.

You sighed, tightening your grip on your backpack straps, then spoke softly, "Yeah, it's true. All of it."

Peter's face darkened a shade, "Even the staring part?"

"Ye- yeah..."

"Do you- um- would you like to- uh- listen. Are you free this Friday night? We've got a robot showcase for robotics club and at the end, there's gonna be one of those robot-dueling-matches, which I think are really cool, and I'm gonna get to operate the robot, and I thought that- well, since you uh- like me, you'd want to come? It's a recruiting event so non-club members are allowed to come and I thought it would kinda be like a date? I don't know if I'm doing this right, you're the first cute girl to ever like me, of all people, and-"

“Peter?” You cut him off

“Yeah?”

“That sounds amazing. What um- what time?”

“It starts at six I can uh- I can text you about it more, uh later tonight?”

You beamed.

“I’d love that.”

249 notes · View notes

xxxtrouvaillexxx · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Cranes

A/N: I swear that I’m working on the first chapter of LSaD, I plan to have it out by THIS Saturday! I promise that it’s coming! In the mean time, I’ve been working on this piece for a hot minute and it’s kind of just been sitting around in my drafts and in the back of my head. So~ while you wait, here is a little something something to keep the waters calm. And I needed a little something to deal with quarantine.

Pair: Bucky x Reader (platonic)

Synopsis: Y/N is an empath... More specifically, a healer with empathic abilities, which leads to from very severe trauma for y/n but you’d never stop helping your team for the world. Even when that trauma leads you to spend a night on to roof in tears and a very heated talk with your best friend Bucky.

Masterlist

Warning(s): angst (I’m a sucker for it...), an alarming amount of fluff, as usual.

Word Count: 3,931

The Tower has been bustling with life ever since the city closed down, or more aptly, the world as it seems. Every single one of the Avengers, other than Barton himself, was closed up in the same building for the last three weeks, and the air was becoming more restless every day. And the more anxious it became inside of these walls, the world was still doing worse for wear.

You, feeling all of that, felt all of your own worries too. Not that you let anyone in on that little fact. You’re the personal on-site doctor to the Avengers along with being one of the hero’s themselves, though you had no real special power to name in the ways of fighting. You simply were rather good at kicking bad guy butt and were a rather well-known assassin with the Black Widow herself.

And though the two of you are as close as sisters, she doesn’t even know about your ability.

“Lady Y/N!”

You whipped your head around so quickly at Thor’s booming voice, you could have sworn that you’d given yourself whiplash, but you managed to give the large man a large grin and match his excitement.

“Thor!”

Laughing, he scooped you up and off of the floor in a tight hug as if you were light as a feather. If there was anyone who, throughout the entire time of being shut up in a building with the worlds most lovably irritating heros, could keep spirits high, it was Thor. The man was like a giant teddy bear, to be frank. You could swear that the only time you ever see him get intensely serious about an issue is during a mission, and it surely wasn’t anything you were going to start complaining about now.

Letting you down again to stand on your own feet, he grinned widely and with mischief.

“I require a bit of aid, I’m afraid. Sparring with the two super soldiers seems to be only a tad bit more interesting without the use of powers.”

“Don’t let him fool you, doll. We pummeled him and he doesn’t want to admit it,” Bucky said from the doorway. Steve was coming up from behind him with a smile too.

“Well, it seems you boys have had an eventful morning then.” The humor was obvious in your voice and they all laughed, Thor of course boomed.

“Indeed!”

“Well, how can I assist you three then?”

“Just Thor today, actually. He thought it would be funny to go easy on us old geezers. Lessons learned,” Steve said grinning as he passed you with a pat on the shoulder to the kitchen.

Thor after, another, belly full of laughter, showed you the bruises that now littered his arms and torso. There were no major wounds, and it looked like it was just hand to hand sparring, though if it were anyone other than Thor the damage would have been far worse coming from the two super soldiers.

Shaking your head, you smiled and pointed him to the couch. “You might as well get comfortable while we do this. You’ve got enough bruises to keep me busy for a week,” you joked and sat down beside him. “You know the drill, eyes closed and deep breaths.”

He followed your orders without complaint and you rested your hands against his chest first and matched your breathing to his and felt the steady stream of power flow through you. It was light, airy and cool, shining a beautiful gold from your fingertips in waves. But as gorgeous as it looked, this amazing power to heal the injured was a double-edged blade.

As soon as the marks on his skin began to fade and return to its normal color, images of their match flashed in your mind. Every punch and kick that Thor received felt like a blow of your own. Needless to say, you figured it hurt a lot more for you than it had for the god in front of you. Even if you knew that you didn’t physically attain any of the damage, it didn’t dull the sharp pains that coursed through your body.

The reason you always made them close their eyes before healing them of anything, an illness, battle wounds, haunting dreams, or trauma, was because it was easier than trying to force down every wince and grimace. Sometimes it just seemed impossible, which is also the reason you tried to keep healing sessions like this to more personal settings, not that that was always possible.

After a few measured deep breaths to match with Thor’s, you moved onto his arms and repeated the process. It didn’t take long, and by the time you were finished the sharp pains had faded into something of a dull throbbing. Though you didn’t imagine that would stop anytime soon.

“I feel like a brand new man! Thank you, Lady Y/N!” He grinned and launched himself into another suffocating hug before turning to the men in the kitchen. “I will remember to not pull my punches with you two the next time around!”

“We’ll look forward to your next challenge then. But don’t go crying to Y/N next time you get your ass handed to you,” Bucky hollered back.

“Hey! Language!” You exclaimed with a laugh when you heard Steve grumble and say something about needing to forget that moment ever happened… Not that any of you ever would, of course.

You all sat around for a while before Steve went off to speak with Tony about something or another and Thor decided to find and pester his brother. ‘Which I’m sure I’ll have the pleasure to hear about later from Loki himself’, you thought with a chuckle. And soon enough it was just you and Bucky left in the kitchen sharing a peaceful silence and tea for several minutes.

The two of you had grown particularly close over the time since he’s come to the tower and in Wakanda. He was one of your closest friends next to Natasha. Because of that, you took extra care of him not that you’d ever tell him that. You took extra time with him in the evenings and during routine checkups to help him with his nightmares and the general horrors his mind puts him through. You’d be sure to brush your hand across his skin periodically throughout the day subtly to draw out any built up worries and anxieties and he usually stayed pretty close by when he was feeling extra tense.

Of course, there was a part of you that dreaded his checkups and the late nights. Not because that you didn’t want to help him, but the pain that it caused you was sometimes almost to much for you to handle. His memories that flooded through your mind when you touched, the phantom pains you’d feel... You couldn’t understand how anybody could ever do something so absolutely horrible, least of all to another human being. And it was almost incomprehensible how Bucky had managed to survive so long after all of it, but you had managed to tie that to the fact that he was the strongest man you knew.

But no matter how much you may dread those visits and the things that followed, you would never stop helping him. And you would never tell him the truth about your power. You doubted that he’d ever let you continue if he knew what it did.

“I think everyone is going out for joyride tonight, you plan on joining?” He interrupted your thoughts with a warm voice and kind smile.

“Not likely. I think I’ll just take the evening for myself. If everyone goes out, it might actually be quite around here for a change,” you chuckled. “What about you?”

“I haven’t decided yet, but Steve is trying pretty hard to get me out this time around.”

“So, probably then?”

He laughed and nodded, “Yeah, probably.”

“Where do they plan on going, anyway? Everything is shut down right now, so there isn’t much to do,” you asked. And it was true, with a global pandemic going around, everything was basically closed down until further notice everywhere.

He shrugged and looked to the ceiling, “Who knows. Stark thought it would be a good idea to get the quinjets out and running before they sit around to long and need a toon up. And he thought it would be good for moral if we weren’t all cooped up in the tower again for another night together.”

You guffawed and shook your head. “Oh? And having everyone cooped up in the jets is going to be so much better for team moral, huh? Tell me how that works out for him.”

»»-———————-««

It was roughly 11:30 now, and everyone was still out of the tower and flying around Lord knows where and you were in the tower alone. It had been nearly two months since these halls last ran silent except for the sound of your own footsteps. Nearly two months sinces you could freely express all of the pent up rage, and fear, and pain, and anxiety that has been building up inside of yourself.

On most if not all occasions, you were a very happy person. You enjoyed your work and the people you work with. You loved your family and friends, and the world even with all of its problems... And there were a lot of problems. And normally it would just be enough to spend a day to yourself with a book or a blank canvas and paint to release everything. You tried to always look toward the brighter side of things, but recently- without a way to vent out everything you’ve been taking in, things were to much.

So you found yourself up on the towers roof at almost midnight with tears running down your cheeks and finding it hard to catch your breath. Your chest ached. The instant that the door closed behind you and you were hit with the cool night air it was like everything just rushed out in waves.

You screamed, and wailed, and cried. You let yourself feel everything that you had been burying. Every last punch, kicks, knife and bullet, nightmare. It all came out in coughs and harsh please and grief. For yourself and for the people who went through it all.

“It’s not fair,” you cried. “It’s not fair!”

After what felt like an eternity and your throat was coarse from the yelling and sobs, you felt like there was nothing left to cry. You’d gotten it all out and let go of everything, finally. And you knew you would be able to face everyone tomorrow as yourself rather than the shell of a person you have been until now.

What you didn’t know, was that Bucky was there to witness it all.

»»-———————-««

When you woke up the next morning you felt a great deal better than you had the previous night. Let alone the previous week. In a rather bright mood, you woke early and decided to make breakfast, nothing special because let’s be frank- you weren’t any Gordon Ramsey. But you could make a mean stack of pancakes and eggs.

An hour later, the kitchen was flooded with tired heros and grumbled good mornings. Though you were aware that Bucky seemed to linger in the doorway a little to long and continued to stare at you throughout breakfast. You could practically feel the discomfort and tension poor off of him. He didn’t mention it though so you assumed he wasn’t ready to come to you yet.

It wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to try and handle himself first, be it a nightmare or his own thoughts he tried to take care of it first. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. But you never wanted to try and take that chance from him, so you let him be until he decided for himself.

They all happily ate their share of pancakes, gave thanks in some form or another; hugs, verbally, a slug to the shoulder, the usual. And then everyone dispersed to go about their own day.

By the time that a week went by, you started to become genuinely concerned about Bucky. He was still tense and sticking close to you, but he wouldn’t let himself get close enough for you to touch him and draw out whatever it was that was causing him to be so worried. But he never left your side either. Everytime you left a room, a few minutes later he would follow. It was becoming so apparent that even Natasha said something over dinner, but Bucky didn’t bother to respond.

You didn’t want to take away the option of helping himself if he felt like he could, but he’s never gone longer than two days before saying something to you. It started to make you wonder if you had done something wrong or if he really felt like he didn’t need your help anymore.

Either way, you had to figure it out. The worry was beginning to choke you if you thought about it for to long. So after dinner, you excused yourself from the table and waited in the hall for Bucky to follow.

Sure enough, after a minute he started down the hall too searching for which way you disappeared to.

You showed yourself to him and ignored his apparent surprise, “Are you okay, Bucky? Did something happen?”

His face changed, he looked hurt and sad. Like he couldn’t really bring himself to say anything or absorb what you asked. You waited patiently while he grapled for an answer.

“What?” Was all that he managed to get out.

“Well, you’ve been following me around a lot recently, and you only really stick to my side like this when you need to talk or help with something. But it’s already been a week and you haven’t said anything yet so I was starting to get worried that it was worse than usual or that maybe I did something wrong or that you-”

“That’s supposed to be my line!” He exclaimed, efficiently cutting off my nervous rant and giving me a turn at being confused.

It must of been written all over your face because he quickly continued, “I was there. I saw- I heard you last week on the rooftop! How can you possibly be asking me if I’m alright!?”

Your heart stuttered to a stop at his words and you could practically feel the blood draining from your face. You didn’t even know where begin to explain why or what happened last week.

“Oh...” you trailed off and stepped back. “I didn’t know you were still here. I thought you went with Steve,” you have a humorless chuckle. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about it, I’m alright. Can we just forget about it?”

You knew it was a pathetic attempt to get him to let the problem go, you knew that there was no chance he was going to now that he’s been thinking about it for a week.

“You were begging out there, Y/N. Begging! You can’t just tell me you’re alright and expect me to just let it go like this is nothing!”

You were silent for a long time, taking deep and long breaths to keep yourself calm before taking the corner of his sleeve and dragging him to your room. “We should go somewhere private so we can talk freely.”

He followed you without question.

»»-———————-««

The two of you sat silently for nearly half an hour in your room. You felt completely uncomfortable in the situation. Usually, you were the one who was patiently waiting and comforting someone else while they thought over what they wanted to share or compose themselves. You were used to that, but being on the opposite end of that was new and something you came to learn within the first five minutes that you weren’t particularly fond of.

Finally, Bucky decided to break the silence. “Why do you have so many origami cranes hangin’ in here?”

Your room decor was a bit unconventional, compared to that of everyone else in the tower that is. The room was covered in your own oil paintings, all the ones you deemed should never see the light of day but didn’t get rid of, couches and chairs, bookcases, and of course, countless bunches of paper cranes you’ve hung from the ceiling. Unconventional, maybe. But you loved it anyway.

“There is a myth,” you nearly whispered it but you were sure that he caught the words anyway when he turned toward you.

“Tell me about it?”

You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s an old Japanese legend. It says that anybody who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some of the old stories even say that you are granted happiness and eternal good luck instead of a wish. But you can use the wish on anything, a recovery to illness or injury for example. Usually they’re made as gifts for special friends or family.”

Standing, you grabbed one of the many strings of cranes and gave it to Bucky. “Cranes in Japan are considered holy creatures and supposedly live for a thousand years. That’s why a thousand cranes are made, one for each year of their life. And there are some stories that even say that all have to be folded within a year and strung together on the same string by the one who is making the wish for it to actually work.” You drifted off and smiled at the strand he held and shrugged.

He stared at you for awhile before he looked around your room again. “All of them are stung on one sting.”

“So the legend goes,” you answered.

“But you have at least a hundred of these hanging around your room,” he awed and shook the his gently.

“53 to be exact. There are 53,142 cranes in this room. I’m working on another one now,” you laughed as his face grew in een more amazement.

The strands all hung next to each other. Currently you had two rows of 25 and one of three. Honestly, it was rather beautiful in your opinion. It created a sort of curtain on one of your walls filled with different colors and stories.

“Why?” He asked softly.

“Because I have a lot of wishes?”

“No. Don’t dodge. You wouldn’t have gone through all of this effort,” he waved toward the curtain, “for yourself alone. So why? How long have you been doing this for?”

“Nearly 15 years? I usually try to fold 10 every night before I go to sleep. You would be disgusted by how much I spend on paper,” you joked but he didn’t break. You groaned, “Fine! It’s because I didn’t know what else to do, okay? People were sad and hurting and scared, I felt it, and I didn’t know what I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do to help them. And so I started to make wishes for strangers mostly, people I felt needed it.”

“Felt?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Or saw depending on the person. And it’s not like I’d ever do it on purpose, I’d just bump into someone and see everything! And I wouldn’t be able get it out of my head. I felt like there wasn’t anything I could do, Bucky. So I wished and wished and wished for them. For everyone.”

He looked at you incredulously, “Y/N... What do you mean, “See everything”?”

You blinked rapidly a few times and grabbed three more of the strands from the wall. “These,” you handed them to him, “are yours. These are the wishes I made for you. And before you say anything, just... Don’t freak out, okay? I didn’t make all of those to upset you, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m a healer, that’s always been who I am. But for me to be able to use that gift, I have to make physical contact with my patient. And I’ve been blessed to be able to mend body and mind! There isn’t anything in the world that would make me want to give up that gift, Bucky. But when I... touch people- anyone, Wanda, Nat, Thor, a stranger... You- I can see exactly how they got hurt mentally or physically. And I can feel the hurt too, like it were my own.”

You could barely bring yourself to say that last part, and it was barely a murmur as it were, but you knew that he heard it by the way that the color drained from his face and he slouched back a bit.

“Bucky,” you reached out for him but stopped when he flinched away from you. You swallowed harshly and continued, “I don’t hate it Bucky. I prefer it this way, really! It makes it easier for me to understand who I’m helping and more than anything else it brings me closer to them. I’m okay, Bucky.”

“Stop telling me that you’re okay! How could you possibly be after-” he paled more if that were possible as he looked at the four rows of cranes he carried now, “Oh my God. Four years, you’ve seen everyth- You’ve felt everything for four years! Y/N, I-”

“Don’t you dare try to apologise or regret coming to me, James,” you interrupted in a hurry. “If I can breathe then I’m fine. And I will never regret helping you when you needed me. You’ve never done anything wrong. And what you saw last week wasn’t usually how I deal with... Well, everything that gets piled up. Usually I go out for a day to breathe and just let go. It’s just that with everything closed down right now, I hadn’t had the opportunity in months. It got to much, that’s all. It had nothing to do with you, I promise.”

Everything you said seemed to go in one ear and out the other with him. He simply grasped the cranes tighter and refused to make eye contact.

“Bucky,” you whispered again and reached for him one more time and this time, he didn’t turn away. His wave of emotions hit you hard, there were to flashes of images or memories, just feelings of regret and horror and shame and fear. “It’s okay,” you breathed and raised to give him a hug. “It’s okay Bucky.”

Slowly he calmed down, and his emotions subsided into ripples rather than waves. His regret eased along with his fears. He pulled away from you eventually and offered a weak smile, that didn’t necessarily confirm any suspicions that you may have that he was lying or otherwise.

He held up the cranes and smiled, “Thank you, so much, for these.Y/N I can’t ever thank you enough for these, let alone everything else that you’ve done for me. I understand why you would’ve kept this to yourself, if I’d known sooner I’d never had come to you. But because I did- God, I can do things without begin afraid. I can go out with Steve and not freak out, or go through the night without nightmares. I’ve you to thank you for that. You’ve done more for me than I could have ever asked you, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that but-”

You smiled and shook your head, “This, Bucky, is plenty.”

40 notes · View notes

monaisme · 4 years ago

Text

Day 27: “I wish I had never given you a chance”

* *Six months ago* *

“Hey, Parker, do you have a minute?”

Peter looked over his shoulder, positive someone named Parker would be standing behind him. When he saw no one, he turned back to Flash. “Are you talking to me?”

Flash scowled, “Ha-ha, Parker, really funny.” He looked up and down the hallway, appearing to be rather uncomfortable. “Really, do you have a minute to talk... just talk?”

It was Peter’s turn to check and see if the hallway was clear. He was suddenly very nervous that Flash’s buddies would suddenly swarm, leaving Peter bloody, bruised, stained, soaked, or some combination of the four. He wasn’t in the mood for it... not today. “I have to get going, Flash, so if you and your band of thugs are planning something, can we get it out of the way quick so I’m not late—or at least have a chance to change before hitting the subway?”

Flash’s scowl changed to something Peter hadn’t seen on him before. Whatever it was, it was a genuine emotion—not the ‘Flash’ bravado he put on for the masses.

It had Peter concerned. “Flash? Is everything okay?”

He cleared his throat, “Look, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. I just... I mean...” He huffed in frustration. “It has come to my attention that I am perhaps not the... nicest... person on the planet and that I should be working on bettering myself as a human being.”

“What are you talking about, Flash?” Peter couldn’t contain the confusion.

Flash looked up, like he was praying for patience, or maybe willpower? Regardless, he kept going, “This isn’t easy for me, Parker so cut me some slack!” He breathed heavily.

“Flash?”

“I’m serious! I’m realizing that I’m a bit of a shithead and I’m trying to change—and I can’t do that if you’re wondering if my friends are hiding around the corner waiting for me to spring a trap.”

Peter had to take a second to pick his jaw up off of the floor. There were so many things he could say in response to Flash’s declaration. ‘What a fantastic life choice!’— ‘I’m proud of you, Flash!’ –- but when he opened his mouth, “Just a bit?” spilled out.

Neither of them said anything of a few seconds, and then the loudest snort laugh Peter had ever heard came out of Flash’s face... which led to the two of them howling in laughter in that empty hallway. Every time one of them calmed down, they’d look at the other and start all over again.

Eventually they stopped. Peter was bent over at the waist catching his breath and Flash was wiping the last of the tears off his cheeks. Their eyes connected, and something passed between them. Nothing life altering or soul shattering, but... something.

“That was fair, Parker,” Flash acknowledged and with a sincerity Peter didn’t know was possible from the other, he said, “I am sorry for the things I’ve done, and I’m going to try to do better.”

Peter wanted to be the better person, but there was so much history. He smiled at his high school nemesis—oops, ex-nemesis and replied, “I look forward to seeing the change.”

He thought he saw Flash’s face fall, but in a second the look was gone.

“I’ll have to take that.” Flash accepted graciously and then, “So, yeah,” The moment was over. “I’m gonna go now, I think my Dad’s here to pick me up so...” Flash pointed some fingers guns at him, “I’ll see you at practice, ‘kay?”

Peter smiled, “You bet, Flash. See you at practice.”

* *Five months ago* *

Lunch period was just starting when the announcement came over the PA system, “Eugene Thompson, please report to the office. Eugene Thompson to the office, please. Thank you.”

Of course, half the cafeteria called out the requisite ‘ooooooh’s’ and Flash, who was sitting only a table over, looked over at Peter, with Ned and MJ, and shrugged. He grabbed the apple and water bottle off of his tray and brought the rest over to Peter. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. Can I ask you to watch this, and if I’m not back by,” he checked out the clock on the wall, “Say quarter after twelve, you guys can finish it?”

In unison, the three all turned to looked over to the table of friends that Flash had just left, “Why not ask one of them?” Ned asked.

Flash chuckled and shot down the idea. “I’m not in the mood to play ‘which food did they spit in?’ Thank you very much. If you can’t that’s cool, but...”

Peter jumped in, “We’ve got it, Flash. We’ll watch the clock. 12:15pm.” He didn’t quite know what else to say. “Um. Hope it’s nothing catastrophic?”

Flash grimaced. “Me, too. Uh... thanks.” With a small wave he exited the cafeteria.

Ned jumped on him first, “Dude! What the heck!? I know you told me he’d apologized but that was straight out of the Twilight Zone!” Ned was freaking out.

MJ, always the level headed of the group, nodded in approval. “I can appreciate the effort he’s making to break out of a social construct of his own creation. It must be difficult to make a change when everything around you stays the same.” She looked across to Flash’s buddies and then to Peter.

He rolled his eyes at the implication. “C’mon, MJ. It’s been a month and there’s a lot of history there, you know? I’m... yeah. It would be nice to believe this is real, and I’m hopeful, but give me more than five minutes to get used to this, please?”

“I understand that, Peter, and I can appreciate history—just remember that we’re meant to learn from it, not get stuck in it.”

Peter appreciated the advice for what it was—really, but he and Ned had an ongoing tic-tac-toe tournament Peter decided he’d rather they focus on that. One thousand, six hundred, twenty-nine consecutive draws after ONE brain fart on Peter’s part...? Yeah, he was working toward redemption.

At ten minutes past twelve, Flash came back into the cafeteria, looking desolate. He meandered between the tables and stopped in front of theirs. He didn’t ask, just sat down and stared into nothing.

They were all curious, but Peter was the one to ask, “Flash? Is everything alright?”

Flash blinked and looked up at him, almost seemed surprised to see him. “Oh, uh, my mom needed to drop off a new house key. She won’t be home after school and she had the locks changed this morning.”

“Oh, okay.” He awkwardly replied. “Um... here’s your lunch.” Peter slid the tray in front of the dazed teenager. “I promise you, it’s spit free and everything.”

“Thanks.” Flash stared at the tray and quieted.

The three of them exchanged looks of concern, and though no words were spoken, they all came to an agreement.

“Hey, Flash,” Peter piped up, “Um, if you’re mom is gonna be gone after school, did you want to come over to my place? We’re, uh, going to be putting together a 3000 piece puzzle of the Milky Way and I’m going to lose my mind if they make me sort edges by myself. You’re welcome to join us if you want?”

Flash blinked back again.

“It’s even nerdier than it sounds, but we’re all about embracing our inner geek at this table.” Peter added.

Ned held up the infinite tic-tac-toe game as further proof. “True story, Flash.”

Flash looked over at MJ who just shrugged. “I’m not a nerd. I’m just smarter than them... which is why I make them sort.”

Peter could see that Flash was considering, so he tossed in one last incentive. “If you come, I won’t make you eat my Aunt’s walnut loaf.”

Flash smiled then, and it was almost sincere. “That sounds like fun. I’ll meet you guys out front after school?”

They all agreed, and Flash took a bite of his lunch.

* *Four months ago* *

Peter had been gone for a couple of days for an ‘internship retreat’ and it was time to crack down and get back to work. Spanish waited for no one.

“I can’t believe you actually have an internship with Tony Stark, Peter.” Flash teased him relentless as he made flashcards.

“And none of us can believe it took you so long to believe it, Flash.” MJ droned out over the edge of her textbook. “Seriously, he gets picked up in a new luxury car every week.”

Flash blushed over it again. “C’mon, you have to cut me a little slack, I mean really? What are the odds that something like that would happen to—“ The group braced, still cautious but hopeful... “anyone, let alone a junior in high school?! I was talking to my dad about it last night and he says with luck like that, you should be playing the horses.”

Peter chuckled and shook his head, “I’m not one to look at odds, Flash. My luck is only about fifty-fifty at the best of times.”

“And our odds of passing this exam will be less than that if we don’t stop yammering and get to work! Let’s go, losers!” Ever the taskmaster, MJ started barking out verbs to conjugate—and everyone got back to work.

* *Three and a half months ago* *

“Hey guys, guess what!?” Peter rushed up to them all congregated at Ned’s locker. “Mr. Stark got tickets to the premier of that new Oscar Isaac movie next week! He’d need to hang out with all of the mucky-mucks, but he can get extra tickets for us, if we’re okay with sitting with the rest of the peons—his words, not mine—if you want. I just have to let him know how many we need and then we can go with him in the limo!”

Ned freaked! “One for me, please! I’m content breathing in the same space as Poe Dameron even if the movie is supposed to suck, thank you very much!”

MJ had, of course, read the book that the movie was based on. “I’d be interested to see how a female director could have done a better job. Sure, I’m in.”

Flash was quiet.

“Flash? Are you in?”

Not looking quite comfortable with himself, Flash asked, “Are you sure he meant me, too?”

“Yeah, Flash. He means you, too. Did you think I’d be offering this to only some of my friends?”

Flash released a slow breath. “If you’re sure, then I’d love to come. Thanks.”

* *Three months ago* *

“Where’s Flash?” Ned asked as he sat down at their table at lunch. “He wasn’t in Comp Sci and Mrs. Berman asked me if I knew where he was.”

Peter and MJ pulled their phones out, checking to see if there were any unread texts or emails they’d missed.

They had nothing.

Peter took a second to peck something out.

11:45am

PBWanKenobi: Hey, man! R U ok?

Flash was normally like a beast with replying back to texts. MJ said he had a serious case of FOMO and Flash hadn’t disagreed. None of them understood how he had yet to be caught or have his phone confiscated.

And none of them had heard from him by the end of lunch.

12:24pm

PBWanKenobi: Hey, let one us know you’re alive?

Peter had just fallen asleep after a rough evening of Spider-manning when his phone pinged.

11:58pm

TheFlash: The message you have sent is undeliverable.

11: 59pm

TheFlash: The message you have sent is undeliverable.

* *Two months and three weeks ago* *

“Flash!” Peter practically bulldozed him over in his relief at seeing his friend safe and sound. “Are you okay? What the hell happened to you? We were so worried?!”

MJ and Ned had stayed back, Peter doing enough freaking out for the lot of them.

Flash flushed with embarrassment. “Um, can we maybe talk about it later? It’s, uh...” Flash looked around the busy hallway and Peter figured it out pretty quick.

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Sorry about that.” Peter stepped back, hands thrust into his pockets and trying to be calm, cool, and collected.

No one bought it, and before long they were all laughing at Peter’s dorkiness.

“C’mon, losers, we’ve got Chemistry in five minutes.”

* *Two months ago* *

Peter tried really hard to not make a big deal of it, but Flash was going through some big shit. His mom had kidnapped him! Wait, it was a ‘custodial disagreement’ and Flash had disappeared. His mom had driven him over state lines without his Dad’s express permission and had destroyed his phone so they couldn’t be tracked.

They’d been found anyways.

It was insane.

Flash’s mom was out on bail but not allowed to see him and Flash’s dad had taken back the house she’d been living in.

And Flash wasn’t doing too great.

He’d started spending time with his old buddies again, which was cool! Totally okay, but they were still jerks and Flash was hurting.

Flash promised it was only because of his Dad. Apparently these buddies were the kids of some of Harrison Thompson’s wealthiest clients and Flash was supposed to be in on the schmooze.

Anything to make a buck, is what Harrison Thompson said.

Anything to get a leg up, is what Harrison Thompson said.

Suck it up, Eugene, you’re not here to make friends. You’re here to make connections. It’s about whose holding all the cards. It’s about the win-win-win, is what Harrison Thompson said.

Peter didn’t like Harrison Thompson very much, and he’d never even laid eyes on him.

* *One month and one week ago* *

Peter had talked to Mr. Stark about the situation with Flash during their lab time. He didn’t quite know how to process everything and with May working her second shift rotation at the hospital, he was stuck for advice on how to deal with it all.

“Maybe the kid needs a break?” Mr. Stark suggested. “Why don’t you guys all come out to the lake house for the day, take a breather from everything. The weather is certainly nice enough for it. I’ll grab Pepper and we can jump in the SUV. You can all bring your swimsuits and we can make a day out of it. I’ll barbeque. Pepper will yell at me for burning things! It’ll be a gas.”

Peter rolled his eyes at his mentor. “Are you sure? I mean, it sounds great, but are you sure-sure-sure about it? I know the lake house is kind of your thing...” Peter didn’t want to intrude.

Tony walked over to Peter’s station and looked him in the eye. “Kid, if you say this kid is good people, then I’m going to trust you. And if you say this kid needs a hand and this is what I can do? Then I can do it.”

Peter thought about the last weeks and how withdrawn Flash had been. He knew he wasn’t hearing a quarter of what was going on at Flash’s house and he knew that Flash’s dad cast a wide shadow. Maybe a trip out of the city would be what Flash needed to open up?

He’d decided. “If you’re positive, Mr. Stark, I’ll take you up on that offer. I think it’ll be exactly what he needs.”

* *Three weeks ago* *

It really was exactly what Flash needed.

They’d spent the day in the water. Tony had installed a tire swing last spring and a slide at the edge of the dock during the summer. It was glorious. MJ had goofed off for a bit, but when Pepper came out to sit on the dock, she’d left the water to be all ‘mature.’ Whatever. Peter, Ned, and Flash made farting noises with their hands in the water. If Tony had joined them in the water (making farting noises, too!), no one would tell—but there were pictures.

They grilled burgers and hot dogs and ate until too full.

It was the perfect day.

* *One week and three days ago* *

5:32am

TheFlash2.0: Peter. 911 Call me.

5:33am

TheFlash2.0: Peter. Wake up.

5:33am

TheFlash2.0: Peter. Please wake up!!!!!

5:36am

TheFlash2.0: On my life, Peter! It wasn’t me! I swear it!

5:45am

TheFlash2.0: Please! I’m phoning.and you’re not answering! It your phone on silent?

5:45am

TheFlash2.0: *is dammit!

5:50am

TheFlash2.0: Peter. I don’t know what to do..

Neither Flash nor Peter were at school that day.

The reporters outside of his Queens apartment made it impossible for Peter to leave.

The beating he’d received from his father after the argument had made it impossible for Flash to leave.

* *One week and one day ago* *

10:23am

TheFlash2.0: Please thank Mr. Stark for filing a police report. Not sure if you care, but I’m with my grandma and I’m safe.

10:23am

PBWanKenobi: I care.

10:25am

PBWanKenobi: I’m glad you’re safe.

* *One week ago* *

The press conference had gone as well as could be expected. After the photo had been released, things had been... chaotic.

Pepper had already been prepared for someone to make the assumption that Peter was Tony’s kid—but when Harrison Thompson had implied that Peter was Tony’s...

Peter felt nauseous even thinking about it.

MJ had been horrified by all of it. When she and Pepper had decided to visit on the dock, they’d been relegated to phone babysitters. MJ wouldn’t stand for just sitting and watching. She’d grabbed everyone’s phones and snapped like every moment was a precious memory. Ned had a picture of Mr. Stark dunking Flash under the water—and then another of Flash coming up and spouting a mouthful back at him. Peter had him, Ned and Flash doing cannonballs off the dock. They each had a couple of selfies of MJ and Pepper hamming it up all on their own...

Flash had a couple of photos of Mr. Stark and Peter—Peter had been standing... just standing and talking to Flash in the distance. You could see him in the picture. Mr. Stark had, for the first time EVER, managed to sneak up on the kid. Flash had played along as the distraction. He could have dunked Peter, zinged him, splashed... anything. But no, Mr. Stark, in a moment of affection gave Peter a hug from behind. It was sweet and tender—and photoshopped.

Harrison Thompson had ruined it.

He had taken something so wholesome—he had taken a piece of his own son’s joy and twisted it—had tried to ruin lives.

The man was a monster and with that one press conference, Pepper Potts, CEO of Stark Industries had destroyed him and his reputation spectacularly. She revealed every lie, every fraud, every deception—all of the evil he had ever done. He would never work in the state of New York again. And he would never have custody of his son again. And if, by the end of it, he was never free again, no one would complain.

It gave Peter some satisfaction, but it wasn’t enough.

How was Flash supposed to move on from this? How did Peter?

* *Three days ago* *

The hope that the interest by the press would die down after the press conference had been a pipe dream.

Mr. Stark had finally convinced Aunt May to relocate to the tower for everyone’s safety and sanity.

Honestly, Peter was sure May agreed to the move simply because it would get him out of bed.

The joke was on her, though.

They’d grabbed a couple of duffle bags and Peter’s backpack for school and headed over. Tony and Pepper had prepared a guest room for Aunt May, and of course Peter already had his own space. And that is exactly where he headed when Aunt May went to drop her bags in her room.

... and Peter figured if he never left, it would be too soon.

* *Present Day* *

“Peter, come on, sweetheart. You can’t stay in bed forever. You’ll start growing mushrooms in your armpits if you don’t shower.”

“No, I won’t.” Peter mumbled into his pillow.

“Okay, well if you won’t get out of bed for me, will you get out of bed for someone else?” May pushed.”

“Tell Ned I’ll call‘im tomorrow.”

“It’s not Ned.”

“Tell MJ I’ll call‘er tomorrow.”

“It’s not MJ, sweetie.”

Peter grabbed an extra pillow and shoved it over his head. “Then tell whoever I’ll call them tomorrow!”

A familiar voice came from the doorway. “My grandma hasn’t gotten me a new cell phone yet, so you can’t call me tomorrow.”

Peter popped up from his hidey-hole, not even embarrassed by his state of grossness. “Flash?”

“Hey, Parker.” Flash greeted, shyly.

“Are you okay?” Peter noticed the fading bruise under his left eye. “I know your dad is in a bunch of trouble, but tell me he’s goin’ down for child abuse, too, please?”

Flash looked uncomfortable for Peter’s eagerness. “Um, yeah, he’s been charged so that’s a thing.”

“Cool, I’m glad to hear that.”

“And I’m going to be living with my grandma for a bit—just while everything is straightened out with my mom and the house and everything.”

Peter had remembered that from the text. “That’s good.”

“So, um, I’m wondering if I could get your phone number for when I, uh, get my new phone. I can’t really transfer stuff ‘cause my phone is in an evidence locker somewhere.”

It all felt so surreal. How could this be so easy for him?

“Um, Peter? It’s cool if you don’t want to--”

“Shit! No! Sorry—zoned out there for a second. Of course you can have my number! Just—“ Peter jumped out of his bed and rushed past Flash to his desk to grab a pen and paper.

“Geez, Parker, your aunt wasn’t joking about the mushrooms!” he teased as Peter scribbled his number down on an old math worksheet.

“Funny, Flash. Ha-ha.” He thrust the piece of paper into Flash’s hand. “There, but if you’re going to be a jerk, you can call Ned instead. I still haven’t beaten him at tic-tac-toe so he kind of deserves it.”

“Cute.”

“I thought so.”

Neither said anything for a bit. Peter had too many things he wanted to ask, and it seemed that Flash had secrets he’d wanted to keep.

“Can I tell you something?” Flash blurted out.

“Of course you can.” Peter answered. “You can tell me anything.”

“That’s good, ‘cause I really want to tell you how this all started.”

Peter assumed he was going to talk about the photos and the ‘anonymous’ press release revealing sordid fabrications, but no.

Flash started telling a story that was disjointed and already in progress, and that was okay. He’d probably told it in his head a million times, but out loud? This was most likely the first time...

Flash needed to be heard and Peter would listen.

“It had been a really bad night—for my parents, I mean. He hadn’t hit her, but he’d been so mean to her, and I could hear her cry... and it wasn’t even the first time, you know? It just sounded, I don’t know, sadder that night.

“I stayed in my room, ‘cause that’s what we do, but then my mom came in. I pretended to be asleep. I just couldn’t deal with it. I mean, it always feels like too much but that night...” Flash trailed off for a minute.

Peter let him take his time.

Flash sniffed and rubbed at his nose. “Anyways, she sat on my bed and whispered that she loved me... and then she said... she—she was so afraid I’d grow up to be like him, Peter, and...” He inhaled and then exhaled. “And I just couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be someone that my mom couldn’t love... and so I made a decision to change. I had to! And I knew that it had to start with you. I knew if I could redeem myself with you, then I had hope.”

“Wow, that’s terrifying deep, Flash.”

Flash ran his hand through his hair. “It is, and I’m glad to know you’re as freaked out by it as I am.”

Peter chuckled, “Aww, Flash. I knew we had something special...”

Flash gave him a playful shove. “Don’t be an ass. We’re having a moment here.”

And Peter nodded. “We are.”

“After all of this, a part of me wants to say that I wish I had never given you a chance to forgive me... that I was meant to play the villain forever, but I’d be lying. So...” Flash offered his hand. “Peter Parker, I’m not sure when I’m going to be back in town, but thank you. Thank you for forgiving me... even if you never said it. You showed it. And thank you for being an example of a decent human being. I didn’t have that so...” Flash rubbed his nose again.

Peter teared up, and took Flash’s offered hand. “Thank you, Flash Thompson, for trusting me, even if I didn’t understand why you needed it. You’re a good person, and I’m glad you’re my friend.”

The two stood there, hands clasped. Peter chuckled low, “Look at us, being all emotionally mature and not an MJ in sight. She’ll never believe it.”

Flash joined him. “You’re so right. Too bad we couldn’t take a picture”

Peter processed what Flash had said and groaned. “Too soon, man. Too soon.” With another chuckle and some playful shoves, they parted.

“I’m sorry to interrupt this bro moment, but Flash, you’re grandmother says it’s time to go.” May called from the door.

“Okay, May, we’re coming.” Peter said. “Just give us a minute, ‘kay?”

“Alright, don’t be too long though. She’s worried about traffic.” She replied and then left them again.

“I still haven’t apologized for my dad, Peter. I’m so sorry for everything—“ Flash rushed out.

“Nope.” Peter interrupted him. “No apologizing for him. You are not responsible for the decisions other people make. And besides, you can’t choose your blood, but you can still choose your family, right?”

Flash thought about it for a second before agreeing. “Right.”

Peter looked at the door, then back at Flash. “So I guess this is it for now—you’ll call as soon as you get your new number, right?”

“I will.”

“And you won’t join any AcaDec teams so we don’t have to crush your dreams in any future competitions, right?”

Flash smiled and shook his head ‘no.’

Then Peter nodded in satisfaction. “Then you’ll be fine.”

Flash smiled wider then. “Yes, I will be.”

... and eventually, he was.

@febuwhump

#febuwhump #febuwhump 2021 #fanfiction #irondad and spiderson

4 notes · View notes

that-was-anticlimactic · 5 years ago

Text

Angst Week Day Three: Hunger, Slipping (Cole)

Warnings: slight body shaming, slight fat shaming, eating disorders, vomit, self-harm through eating disorder, ‘intense’ social anxiety

Some of the parts may seem super extra but this is also about social tendencies and how the ninja are stereotyped by citizens and how the ninja portray themselves in public!

I almost deleted one of the parts at the party because it seemed too extra, but I wrote a line about highschool that I really liked so I didn’t delete it lol, I also wrote that part at midnight haha

~~~

“Why can’t they see what I see? Why can’t they hear the lies? Maybe the fees too pricey for them to realize, your disguise is slipping...”

He hadn’t had cake in forever… in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he ate cake! So when Cole found out Darkley’s was providing them with cake, the young angsty rebel dancer inside of him wanted to eat as many pieces as he could fit in his mouth!

And he did! He ate a lot of the creamy chocolate cake, and it was delicious! But after that day at Darkley’s, things got weird.

The team made a few jokes about his love for cake, naturally. They all teased each other, it was all in good fun, he didn’t mind. But then they were out in public for a press conference one day, and the kids and teachers at Darkley’s presented each ninja with an award.

Lloyd, Kai, Jay, Nya, and Zane all received certificates with their names on it.

He received a piece of cake with his name on it.

A kind gesture, sure, but when Gayle Gossip asked why Cole received cake, Brad answered, “Cole is obsessed with cake! The day they saved us, he ate almost the entire cake by himself!”

Cole blushed and laughed along with everyone else— it didn’t matter.

A month or two later, after the final battle, there was a special on the television about the ninja, which the team all watched together.

There were a bunch of kids and each said why they loved the ninja.

“I like the black one a lot!” one kid spoke up. Cole sat up straighter, beaming. Finally! After hearing every single kid talk about literally everyone on the team but him, he was excited to hear someone liked him!

“Why do you like the black one?” Gayle asked.

“Because he eats a lot and likes cake and food and I do too!” the kid continued brightly. Cole’s grin fell as his teammates roared with laughter.

Another kid spoke up, “Yeah! I like the food ninja!”

… the food ninja? Is that all he was? He just hadn’t had cake in years because it was banned in his house… no one liked him because he was brave like Kai or caring like Zane or creative and positive like Jay (all things said about them in the interview)... they only thought he was funny because he liked cake…

~~~

Between Tournament and Possession…

He was really nervous. He didn’t want to be here.

But, of course, the day of the banquet the mayor was throwing in celebration of some historical thing, Lloyd, Kai, and Jay had plans together, Nya was sick, and Zane and Lloyd were on a duos mission.

Cole and the others agreed that they didn’t want to be rude and decline the offer to attend, and Cole had thought they were going to offer to change their plans, but no. They decided that Cole should go to some city banquet by himself.

Alone.

Cole chuckled hastily as he adjusted his collar and tie. He looked around at all these people he didn’t know, all dressed up and laughing daintily as if they’d known each other for years…

The room was filled with hundreds of people, yet Cole still felt alone.

Some banquet this was.

He’d spoken to a few people throughout the night. The mayor kindly thanked him for his service, his wife agreed, and they shook his hands.

A younger woman, probably in her early twenties, approached him and said, “Are the other ninja going to be attending this evening?”

Cole has shook his head. “No, sorry. I was the only one available to come tonight.”

The woman looked him up and down and snorted. “The fire ninja couldn’t come?”

Cole held back the want to roll his eyes. So, she just wanted to get at Kai. “No, he’s busy,” he replied in the most polite voice he could muster.

She scoffed and marched away from him.

He shrugged. Whatever. Good riddance.

After that, Cole overheard an awkward argument between a girl and her friend.

“Come on, Mia! Go talk to him!” one girl said, non-discreetly urging her in Cole’s direction.

“Ugh, but I don’t want to, Riley!” the girl, Mia, groaned.

“It’s not like he’s doing anything else! He’s been standing at the drink table all night! Besides, imagine how cool you’ll be when you go to school Monday and tell everyone you danced with one of the ninja!” Riley argued.

Mia hummed in thought. “Yeah, but I’d rather it be the fire ninja!”

Another girl who wants to get in Kai’s pants, Cole thought, slightly agitated but grateful that he never had to deal with any of the crazed fans like Kai did.

“Yeah, but he’s not here, so this one will have to do!”

Mia then leaned in and began whispering something to Riley. Cole wished he could say he didn’t care to know what they were saying, but the lonesome teenage in him took over and he leaned a bit closer and listened a bit more intently.

“— I can’t be seen with the earth and food ninja, he’s, ehhh, he’s just not my type, ya know? He’s a little too chubby and if I go around telling people I was with him can you imagine what guys at school would think they’d have a chance with me?”

Cole stiffened. Is that… is that… true? He had been eating a lot more than usual lately, but… he didn’t want to! People just kept giving him food and expecting him to eat it and he couldn’t say no because they made it specifically for him because they thought he’d like it and he wants to make his friends happy! Besides, he trains a lot and he can’t go a day without exercising, does that do nothing for him but make him really strong?”

The Riley girl sighed. “Yeah I guess you’re right. Of all the ninja, why did the least interesting one have to be here?”

Cole wanted to speak up, but he knew it was just some popular teenage drama, and he wasn’t about to get into that. The team dropped out of school for a reason, their lives are hard enough without that toxicity.

Still, it hurt a bit. Not that he was into her in the slightest, but as a publicly closeted gay he can’t go around denying girls because he isn’t attracted to them.

He was probably dodging a bullet. If she did talk to him and they ended up dancing, he would just be next week’s gossip. Some lie twisted by the popular tyrants of Ninjago High.

He’s worth more than that.

Besides, it’s not fat, no no no, it’s just muscle. It’s just hard to tell beneath his dead shirt, vest, and jacket…

And of course he was the least interesting! He was silent, closed off! He didn’t talk much during interviews like the rest of the team because he preferred the background! He didn’t flirt with girls on the streets like Kai or crack jokes like Jay! Naturally, he’d be considered the ‘least interesting’!

It was just a string of bad luck. Just some mean girls, two of whom must have some rich parents because teens aren’t really supposed to attend banquets thrown by the mayor.

People didn’t hate him that much, they just loved Kai that much. And who could blame them? Kai’s attractive, flirtatious, radiates power, and extroverted, as opposed to his silent, strong, introverted self!

Things went from bad to worse as the night went on.

He didn’t feel comfortable asking anyone to dance, and he was too anxious to start a conversation with anyone, so Cole spent the evening standing by the refreshments table, drinking water whenever he got thirsty.

It was weird… for awhile everyone seemed to be focused solely on dancing but… as the night went on, he found that people were starting to stare at him. And not stare at him in awe because he was a ninja, but as if he were doing something wrong.

Cole checked his hair in the reflection of his glass, but it was the same as when he arrived. His shirt was still tucked in, he hadn’t rolled the sleeves up, his pants weren’t wrinkled or dirty… what was he doing wrong.

Eventually, a man around the age of the woman from before finally approached him and blatantly demanded, “Food ninja, why aren’t you eating?”

Cole blinked. “Excuse me?”

The man threw an exasperated look at his group of friends, who were slowly inching closer and closer to the conversation, before saying, “You’re the food ninja. You’re, like, obsessed with food and desserts and you haven’t eaten anything tonight, what’s up with that?”

It felt as if someone had stabbed him in the gut. “I-I’m not hungry…” he muttered sheepishly, slowly wrapping his arms around himself, almost like a protective bubble.

“Not hungry? What’s wrong with you? All anyone’s seen you do is eat!”

“That-that’s not-“

“The fire ninja is the angry hot one, the blue ninja is the funny one, the white one is the serious one, the green one is the hero, then there’s the girl, and there’s you, the ninja who eats a lot!” the man exclaimed, drawing the attention of most of the room, who all now stopped to watch.

“I- those are just stereotypes!” Cole meekly replied, willing the rage inside of him to fade so he wouldn’t act out in public.

“Okay, then tell us something about yourself, food ninja, what do you do other than eat?”

Cole felt everyone’s gaze on him. Was he being set up? Surely citizens were more competent than that! Were they just trying to get him to make a scene? Was this some sort of test? His breathing was getting faster and faster. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“I like to draw! I read a lot, and I’m actually pretty serious too! I used to dance, but now the only dance I enjoy is a hip-hop type of dance, I climb trees and go on walks— I love nature so much!” he wanted to say, but his words were caught in his throat.

Everyone was staring at him.

Then he heard a snicker. Soon, more and more people were trying to hide their laughter.

He can’t let this be on the news. He can’t let this incident get publicized. He can’t be the one who starts giving the ninja a bad rap. He can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t he can’t—

His eyes flickered into the cruel eyes of the man before him for just a moment, before he hung his head.

The man chuckled. “See, you’re the food ninja. The food ninja eats.”

Cole, defeated, just nodded.

As he turned to walk away, probably to the food table to fulfill his stereotype, he heard whispers.

“Heh, didn’t think he’d just give up like that. He can’t hold his ground. No wonder he’s the least valuable ninja.”

Cole clenched his fists. How did that phrase get out? Who spread it?

“I bet he didn't want to eat because he noticed how much weight he’s been gaining. He can’t keep up with the other ninja if he gets much fatter,” a female ‘whispered’ to her friend, who in turn attempted to hide a laugh.

Cole looked down at himself as he continued to trudge along. Was he really gaining weight that fast? Was it that noticeable?

“I think he’s funny. Ya know, he’s just so relatable because I wish I could stuff my face all of the time and then work it off like he does. I heard that’s why he trains so much.”

Cole scrunched his nose. He didn’t… he didn’t just eat all of the time and then work it off. Yeah, he works hard, trains a lot, exercises a lot, but he does that to prepare, not to lose weight he gained…

“I really wish the other ninja were here. They do more than just stand around and eat. Like, FSM, at least talk to us, right?” Laughter followed.

Cole held back tears. So, was he reduced to the food ninja because that’s all that was memorable about him? Was he really that bland and boring?

“Maybe I didn’t talk to you all because you were too busy talking about me behind my back!” he wanted to scream at the group. But he didn’t.

He eyes the cake on the table. His stomach flipped and his mouth felt dry. He didn’t want to eat the cake right now. He was so sick of cake! He had it like five times a week! He was starting to intensely dislike the taste and texture of cake!

… but everyone was watching him. He took a shaky breath before cutting a piece and placing it on his plate.

“Hey, save some cake for the rest of us, eh?” someone shouted at him when they saw the cake on his plate. The room erupted into laughter and Cole begrudgingly shrugged and shoveled cake into his mouth as they expected him to.

The party lit up again. People went back to dancing, the room was loud and full again…

But not before he heard a girl murmur, “FSM, what a pig.”

~~~

“How was the party?” Jay asked from the couch when he heard Cole enter the room later that night.

Cole grunted and shrugged. “Fine, I guess. Really wish you guys were there. I didn’t know anyone, it was kinda awkward… everyone was asking about you guys, though.”

He looked at the scene before him. The whole team was in the living room, half on the couch and half on the floor. Nya was surrounded by tissues and wrapped in a blanket, a bowl beside her, and Zane and Lloyd looked as if they had just gotten out of the shower. His heart ached. If they were all home… why didn’t they come late?

Zane gave him a sympathetic look. “I apologize, brother. If Lloyd and I had known our mission would have ended before you got home, we would have joined you without thought.”

Lloyd snorted. “After we got all of that mud off of us.”

Zane giggles. “Yes, after we washed all of the mud off!”

The group laughed, and it was almost like Cole was invisible. He was the only one who didn’t understand.

He started towards the fridge, as the guests at the banquet had insisted he take some leftovers to “appease his appetite”, and he wanted to put them away, when suddenly the group remembered he was there.

“Didn’t you eat at the party?” Kai bluntly asked. “Eh, just didn’t finish the chicken, okay? Zane’s using it for dinner tomorrow.”

Cole blushed, biting his lip, as he placed the leftovers in the back. He wasn’t hungry, but suddenly he felt like everyone was watching him again.

He slowly grabbed the box of leftover pizza, his stomach aching at the sight, and brought it with him to the couch.

He plopped down beside Jay, rolled his sleeves up, and carelessly threw his tie on the floor, before starting a piece of cold pizza.

He wanted to throw up.

~~~

Eat eat eat eat eat

Cole didn’t want seconds during dinner tonight, but it seemed like everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to pile mountains more food on his plate so they could say “First Spinjitzu Master, Cole, Save some for the rest of us!” and laugh, as they do every night. He knew they meant no harm, but...

Eat eat eat eat eat

He felt sick. He couldn’t eat anymore. But he had to. Everyone was watching him.

Shove it down.

Just keep eating.

Don’t look up.

Focus on the food.

First Spinjitzu Master, when had he gained all of this weight… it’s because he was a pig. A disgusting pig. That’s why no one likes him, yeah, because he’s a fat pig.

Eat eat eat eat eat eat

He couldn’t eat anymore.

His stomach ached, he mouth burned…

But he had to. He is his appetite. If he doesn’t eat he’s not important. If he doesn’t eat will anyone know who he is?

He vigorously shoved more food in his mouth, then excused himself to go to the bathroom.

Laughter.

His throat burned.

He panted, attempting to ignore the burning sensation before once more lifting his fingers to his mouth and puking.

Too fat. His dad would be so disappointed.

Too fat means too slow means too useless on missions.

The scent of the vomit only served to aid in his purging, the smell was putrid.

Why did it hurt so much? So much pain.

Panting. He was panting.

This was what he was supposed to do, right? If he’s not hungry, then who is he?

His head hung, resting on the toilet seat, all thoughts of sanitary had left his mind after his first round of purging all those weeks ago.

Who is he?

He was coughing now. His knees ached, his throat burned, his lips were dry, and his head pounded.

He begrudgingly lifted his heavy head, wiping the leftover spit of vomit running down his chin. Like always, he shakily grabbed the febreeze and sprayed the room, praying that no one would be able to smell it.

Let them think what they want.

He attempted to steady the shaking of his hands.

Then he walked back into the kitchen.

He was… hungry.

“I bring you pain, the kind you can’t suffer quietly. Fire up your brain, remind you inside you’re rioting, society is slipping, everything’s slipping away...”

~~~

I don’t know. Might make a sequel where Zane catches him puking.

#ninjago #ninjago cole #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago angst week #ninjago-angst-week #corey writes:)

138 notes · View notes

gwoongi · 6 years ago

Text

𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ☽ slytherin yoongi

𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 min yoongi / reader hogwarts au words: 4378

a/n: once again, the prompts were taken from this post :-) feel free to send requests (i am currently working on requests sent to me, thank u for all ur patience!) ((this fic features prompts 3, 4, 5, 6, 16, 17))

a/n 2: in this fic we give pansy parkinson redemption bc i love her and she deserves the sun and a man like jeongguk

Yoongi should have known that things were too good to be true when he was sorted into Slytherin alongside another fluently speaking British Korean, Jeon Jeongguk. Looking back on the ceremony, over six years ago now, it’s definitely too perfect to be realistic; and actually, now that he’s thinking about it, Professor Dumbledore looked way too happy to see two Koreans in the same year in the same house, sitting on the same bench eating from the same bowl of creamy mashed potato.

His family moving to Sussex when he was five was a risky move. Yoongi had no real friends in his town, if you didn’t count the next door neighbour’s ratty Yorkshire Terrier who always escaped his garden through the fences and regularly took a shit on their patio. Yoongi was never a social butterfly; he could be found sitting inside during break-time with a colouring book or a blank piece of paper, drawing and writing or otherwise just staring out the window at the other kids playing hopscotch on the playground. Honestly, he didn’t care about joining groups and being friends with people - Yoongi had expected to move back to Daegu for high-school, just like his family had planned. Then his Dad got some promotion that paid the bills and then Yoongi got his Hogwarts letter.

Now, Yoongi sits in the Slytherin Common Room, six years later, staring at Jeongguk with his arms folded and lower back rested against the back of the sofa, situated in front of the fire. He stares at Jeongguk with an unamused stare, blank like his notebooks for potions, one eyebrow cocked with disbelief.

“You’re sexiling me again?”

“Look, this is only until next weekend,” Jeongguk pleads, the eleven year old that Yoongi wanted to wrap in cotton wool on the Hogwarts Express threatening to jump out with big bug eyes. “Me and Parkinson are finally hitting it off.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re chasing after Malfoy’s sloppy seconds.”

“She deserves better than him,” Jeongguk frowns, and Yoongi looks closer and notices that Jeongguk is serious about this. He’s serious about Pansy Parkinson, and he should have known from the first time Jeongguk recited an essay probably titled, Why Pansy Parkinson Is Actually Really Nice, with bullet point number one being that Jeongguk found Pansy secretly tutoring three Hufflepuff first years in DADA, and discovered that Pansy bakes mint-chocolate cookies with the house elves at midnight, when nobody is around. Jeongguk personally finds it a shame that she wasted so much time trying to get Draco Malfoy’s attention when he very obviously always had eyes for a certain know-it-all Gryffindor, and as for Yoongi - well, he doesn’t really have an opinion.

“Anyway, it’s just for now,” Jeongguk continues, shaking his head as if getting rid of the thoughts. “I’m sorry - I know, I’m the worst.”

Yoongi just sighs, straightening up and looking at Jeongguk. “Whatever Guk. Let me get my jumper- you owe me, though. After tonight, you fucking owe me.”

When a wide smile spreads across Jeongguk’s face, Yoongi almost thinks that it’s worth it; he climbs the stairs to the sixth year’s bedroom and grabs his jumper, a gift from Jeongguk when he went to America last summer, and then hops back down into the Common Room, where he’s incredibly unsurprised to see Jeongguk already twisting his arms around the short black-haired girl.

Yoongi almost wants to smile; Jeongguk’s too sweet for Slytherin, with only his cool exterior and black clothing that makes him even remotely scary. He watches before heading out of the Common Room as Jeongguk wraps Pansy’s hair around her ear, revealing a helix piercing she got over Easter last year, and he nuzzles his nose into her cheek, eliciting a series of uncharacteristic giggles from the girl. Yoongi nods and walks away - they look good together, he thinks, and then he stops thinking when he leaves the Common Room at 9:15pm, realising he has nowhere to go.

Kim Seokjin was the Slytherin prefect, coincidentally on hallway duty when he sees Yoongi stumbling into the corridor near to the kitchens. Seokjin isn’t a snitch, unless it’s on other houses, and he pretends to look the other way when Yoongi heads down the corridor towards the house-elf who hurries across the hallway, waving at him with a familiar smile and beckoning him inside of the kitchen.

Now, not that Seokjin has ever gone out of his way to stalk Yoongi and map out his ideal evenings outside of the Common Room, but he’s pretty sure he has never seen Yoongi stalk the kitchen hallway, dangerously close to the Hufflepuff Common Room, whose door is directly inside the kitchen by the barrels of vinegar. But Seokjin shrugs instead of going to investigate, already on the hunt for other students whose names don’t start with Min and end with Yoongi.

Yoongi follows the elf into the kitchen, listening as they chatter about a lemon sponge they made in the morning that sits to cool in the cupboard above the sinks- which, although Yoongi is not a chef, he thinks is a weird place to store a cake. He notices the pale yellow jumper knitted around their body and he rolls his eyes, already knowing it’s the work of Miss Hermione Granger, who has also taken it upon herself to pin pamphlets for her saving elves club, or whatever, all around school. Yoongi recalls ripping one down from the Common Room after Malfoy stuck it there to be supportive; he has nothing against the elves, but he does have everything against Malfoy sticking Gryffindor propaganda around his Common Room, because god-damnit, Yoongi is older and he makes the rules of what can and can not be stuck on their corkboard.

He follows her further into the kitchen, bowing out of politeness as the rest of the staff rush around him. It occurs to him that nobody in this kitchen ever really has a day off to rest; either that, or Dumbledore hired about a million elves to man the kitchen, as six push past him to run into the adjoining kitchen where he smells cookie dough. The elves haven’t quite mastered the bow, and they stutter in movements around him trying to get away. Maybe they’re just not as polite in Scotland as they are in Korea, but again, it’s not as if he’s been back to Daegu since he moved to Sussex. He has his Dad and his Dad’s crazy skills to thank for that one.

“...and Winky must work! Miss Y/N, Winky needs to bake!”

Out of instinct, Yoongi ducks behind some empty shelves, looking like a right idiot as Winky, one of the elves, dashes towards another student in the kitchen. Yoongi glances upwards, noticing the student right away, and a breath of air is pushed out of his lungs. Winky tugs at the girl’s corduroy slacks with a small whimper.

“I won’t make a sound. It’ll be like I’m not even here,” the girl promises, patting Winky’s head and she stubbornly moves away. Yoongi already knows Winky is harmless and the girl is Winky’s friend, probably the only other student besides himself who Winky bakes extra batches for.

“You can’t just sit there all day,” Winky squeaks. “What if somebody comes in and sees that Winky is not working?”

“I will fight them,” the girl replies, jutting her chin out with defiance. “If they hurt you, I will beat them up. Okay?”

Winky nods for a moment before crying out with realisation, running backwards to hurry into the room where an explosion of flour bursts, and Yoongi winces with a hiss when an elf scurries past him and steps on the back of his ankle. His cover is now exposed; he leaps into view whilst glaring at the elf as they run away, and Yoongi looks towards the girl who stares back with a half amused expression, bringing a slice of sponge cake to her mouth and taking a bite.

“It’s a bit late for a slice of cake, L/N.”

You crack a smile, swallowing the dry cake. “Good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, Min.” Despite the words, you part your legs and beckon him forward with the wave of your hand, bringing the plate and breaking a corner of the cake with a fork. “Say ah!”

Yoongi does not say “ah”, but opens his mouth for the bite. When he swallows, he looks back at you and scoffs when he notices a cheeky grin on your lips: “I’m not here to make friends.”

“Who said that?” you reply, nudging the plate away towards the sinks. “Nobody said that.”

“You’re so funny,” Yoongi says with a monotone voice, and you don’t even flinch when Yoongi positions himself between your legs, resting his hands on your hips, fingers feathering your waist and the skin shown from the cropped tee. In-fact, you lock him in place, hooking your ankles behind his back and bringing him closer, slightly dipping your head to capture his lips in a kiss.

At first it is light, almost as if it never even happened. Yoongi squints at you when you pull away, expecting more, and one hand moves from your waist to your cheek where he brings you back down for a second, this one much deeper.

Your relationship with Yoongi has always been confusing, and complicated, and most importantly, secret. Nobody at all knew what was going on between Yoongi and yourself; even better than that, nobody at all knew that Yoongi knew who you were. To some, the dynamic was even weirder than Granger and Malfoy, born rivals, born opposites, a lion and a snake. In this case, it was the snake and the badger, wriggling around in tight spaces around the castle, sharing kisses like last breaths.

Yoongi had always been fond of you, even when you stared at him with slight fear in first year when he tried to sit next to you in History of Magic. The emblem on your breast meant very little to him, but meant everything to everybody else; he’d walk several steps behind you, waiting until late fifth year when he finally plucked up the courage and accidentally cornered you into Filch’s store cupboard. Granted, it worked out fine, with the cupboard rising in temperature very quickly, but it never answered the question of What The Hell Was This, and how long it would last. All Yoongi knew was that from the moment he had you tongue tied and dripping in Filch’s dusty cupboard, he would do anything to have a second taste.

Yoongi pulls away first, viewing the way your eyes remain closed for a long three seconds before they fluttered open, peering down at him. He almost straightens up with pride when you unhook your ankles and let them gently swing next to him, your fingers curling in the strings of his jumper.

“What are you doing down here?” you ask finally, your voice quieter without any need to be loud. Your face is, after-all, inches from his own, and the smell of burning is non-existent with the sound of elf footsteps filling the room, just like normal.

“I need a place to stay,” Yoongi replies after a moment's pause. “I’ve been sexiled. Again.”

You hum noncommittally, still curling the strings. “Well, that’s tragic.”

“And you owe me,” Yoongi reminds, because apparently, he does a lot of favours for people. You had almost forgotten how Yoongi took the blame for your failed prank on Cho Chang after someone mentioned in the Hufflepuff Sleepover that she “totally snitched on Potter, and even though he’s a bit of a bellend, nobody deserved Umbridge’s detentions.” Yeah- the mustard bomb you planted in her bag backfired when it blew up on Umbridge herself, and Yoongi couldn’t bear to let you sit through her torture-detention and took one for the team. You apologised excessively when he left the room late at night and kissed the back of his hand over and over until the pain turned into numb lip stains, and he promised you could do him a favour in the future to make up for it.

“So, what?” you ask. “You want to stay in the kitchens? Not very sanitary.”

“I was thinking more your Common Room, but I guess, if you’re ashamed of me, then I can sleep out here in the cold surrounded by elf feet…” His voice trails off and he perks when you laugh, your hands fluffing his hair and then falling back to your lap. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just funny,” you shake your head with a grin. “I’m not ashamed of you, by the way. I just...I didn’t think you wanted to make it official like that.”

“Nobody’s making it official.”

“The second you walk in there, every Hufflepuff is gonna label us as the next Dramione. You want that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You pause. “I could make a list?”

“Please, no-”

“There was George Weasley- I remember when he awkwardly turned me down in the library in third year, his loss-”

“I’m too sober for this,” Yoongi groans, pulling away completely. Instead of turning away completely, he reaches for the large plate of lemon sponge cake and cuts two large slices. “Look, can’t you just do me this favour once? It’s just until Jeongguk finally dicks down Parkinson.”

“Pansy Parkinson?”

“Yeah, the short one. Not very friendly, hides behind her hair, actually kinda cute when she stops being a bitch and chasing after Malfoy.”

“Oh, yeah, I know her. We made brownies together in September,” you nod, jumping down from the counter and wiping away invisible dust from your trousers. “Aw, she’d look so good with Guk. He’s what she needs, you know?”

Yoongi nods reluctantly, “That’s what he said, too.”

As Yoongi continues carefully cutting two slices, you bound towards the barrels lined up outside the entryway to the Hufflepuff Common Room, tapping the passcode while Yoongi remains otherwise occupied. Once he’s finished, he peers over his shoulder as you stand by the entryway, muttering to a Hufflepuff who always sits by the door on an evening to stop people from entering, because one loud-mouth once told a Ravenclaw how to get in, who told someone else, who told the entire school.

Yoongi can feel his eyes softening, and he probably figures there’s sparkles in them as he watches you; it’s like his whole body has turned into a soft mush, and his heart physically hurts watching you giggle with the other Hufflepuff, gesturing back towards Yoongi with your thumb and meeting his smile with teeth and crescent mooned eyes.

Yoongi’s definitely not in love - there’s not enough here and there for that to be realistically possible. All he knows is that he’s fond of you. Fond doesn’t even cut it. There’s something about you that makes him feel safe, and accepted, and comfortable, and when you call him over with the all clear, he very nearly drops the plate into twenty pieces as he steps towards you. God, his heart is in his throat and his hands are kind of shaking- in the orange glow of the candlelight surrounding the kitchens, Yoongi thinks you look the most beautiful. He almost can’t breathe.

The Hufflepuff Common Room is both everything and nothing like what he expected. When he steps inside, the room feels huge, and almost circular, with a humongous fire that roars forever and a circular carpet just in front of it, and on top of that, a large Chest acting as a coffee table and three large, worn suede sofas. The room feels homely- not like his home, decorated with modern decor, but like a home he’d expect to see on telly, with natural colours and plants that hang from random items around the room, a big painting of mountains above the fire and a clock that seems stuck on midnight. He smells tea and honey, spotting a makeshift kitchen set up by two early-bird students who stare at him owlishly as he enters, one hand glued to yours.

He almost jumps when the coffee table Chest springs open and three giggling Hufflepuff’s step out; he vaguely remembers someone saying that Newt Scamander had one of those, a chest that opens into a whole other world. Then, he also recalls the time you told him about this, under the full moon and ocean of stars, on top of the astronomy tower.

(“We’ve got a bar down there. It opens into a bar when you enter, and there’s an outdoor area with a park and a pond and a canopy, and there’s a hammock, too! I remember Cedric Diggory- remember him?- I remember him taking Cho Chang on that hammock. The hammock broke, you already know what happened there.”) ((Yoongi now wants to go into the Chest.))

Instead, you tug him towards the sixth-year Hufflepuff bedrooms, where you swing the door open without a care of the other sleeping students. Yoongi actually flinches for you, and pauses upon entry when he realises that half the beds are bloody empty, save the one girl snoring loudly with earphones in in the corner, facing the wall decorated with postcards and a newspaper cutting of Harry Potter, which Yoongi personally finds quite creepy.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” you say with a sigh, kicking off your shoes to bounce on your bed. Yoongi almost feels jealous, because these beds definitely look bigger than the ones in Slytherin.

“How come we never came back here?” he wonders aloud.

You shrug, taking the cake off him as he kicks off his shoes and climbs next to you. The bed squeaks slightly and you flush, for whatever reason Yoongi already kind of knows, and when he’s settled, you cuddle in between his legs, taking a fork from his pocket and picking at one of the slices.

“I thought you were embarrassed of me,” you confess quietly.

“What...why would I be embarrassed of you?” Yoongi asks. Expectantly, he stares at you until you look over at him through a mouthful of cake. “Y/N…”

“I don’t know, okay?” you surrender. “Probably house anxiety, or whatever.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I know what people say about Hermione and Draco behind their backs,” you reluctantly say, shuffling to face him. “I didn’t want that. I know you didn’t either. And every time we’d meet, it would be in some place secretive. I don’t know, I just thought...that you didn’t really wanna be seen with me, or whatever. It’s stupid.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he puts down the plate and fork and gently turns your head towards him with his hands, a frown on his face and between his eyebrows. “Baby…”

“And it’s okay,” you reassure quickly with a smile. “It’s really okay. It’s a big step! It’s a big thing. I don’t mind the secretiveness...makes life more exciting, you know?”

“Mhm, I know.”

“And I like you a lot, Yoongi,” you murmur, and when he smiles widely, you groan, “but I like being secretive right now. It’s fun running around and hiding in classrooms. And it was so much fun having sex in Snape’s supply cupboard while he was interrogating Harry Potter in the corridor.”

“Oh, wow, I’d forgotten about that one.”

The clock on the wall ticks to 2am when you shuffle further into Yoongi’s body, wondering if you can get any closer. With a groan, Yoongi forces more cake into his mouth, laughing around a chunk when you giggle at his face, scrunched up with fake pain.

“Oi! You’re getting crumbs all over my bed,” you mutter, wiping away a little pile of crumbs onto the floor. Yoongi shrugs, putting the plate on the bedside table and rolling over, pulling you into his arms with his cheek squished against your head. “Oh my God. This is our first cuddling session- hold on, wait, I need photographic evidence of this exact moment-”

“Ugh, can’t you just relax for two seconds?” Yoongi complains, holding you in place. “You can just take it tomorrow, or whatever.”

“You’re staying?”

Yoongi looks down at you. “I’ve been sexiled, Y/N, I can’t just go back to my room and listen to Jeongguk and Pansy all night.”

“And so instead, you have come to annoy little old me. I see, I see, it’s okay.”

(Yoongi lets you complain playfully for a little while until you fall asleep on his bicep, and he takes a little longer than expected to look at you, mapping out all your features and details before dragging the quilt covers over your body.)

“Hey, where’d you go last night?”

Jeongguk trails behind Yoongi as they walk into the Grand Hall together, stomachs growling for a breakfast. As he walks towards the Slytherin table towards the far right of the hall, he takes a glance at the Hufflepuff table and his heart jumps when he sees your bed of messy hair, facing a girl opposite you with panda eyes. He tears his gaze away before anybody can notice him looking.

“I thought you’d sleep on the couch, or something,” Jeongguk shrugs.

“The couch is too close to your sperm sharing session,” Yoongi replies, and Jeongguk grimaces visibly and stacks bacon onto his plate. “Speaking of...everything go okay?”

Jeongguk’s face twists into pure affection: “Yoongi, it was amazing. Really. God, I feel so bad for her- Malfoy really was a dick, and never gave her any attention. All I had to do was tell her she was doing well and everything changed. She’s so nice, Yoongi. I think I like her. A lot.”

Yoongi nods, genuinely listening. “That’s good.”

“And, seriously, she was so good,” Jeongguk continues, and now Yoongi switches off slightly, grabbing a pancake from a plate. He only half listens to Jeongguk spill the details of how Pansy does something with her tongue that no other girl or guy has done for him, and thankfully shuts up with Pansy slips next to him on the bench and leans into his side, her hair in little space buns, freckles on display. Yoongi’s never seen those before. He looks at her with a knowing stare and she wriggles with discomfort, a smile eventually replacing the frown on her small and slightly red lips.

“Please,” she sighs, “stop telling him about your sex life. Your sex life is now also my sex life, and I’d rather nobody knew.”

Yoongi scoffs loudly. “It’s okay. We can share sex lives, if you wanna.”

“If I knew any better,” Seokjin pipes up from further down the bench, “I’d think you’ve never touched anybody before, Yoongi. Have you ever been with anybody in your six years of being here?”

“For your information, Virgin Mary, I have.”

Jeongguk twists with shock. “Really? I thought you hated all the Slytherin girls.” He turns to Pansy: “not you, baby.”

“And who said it was a Slytherin who has me tied down?” Yoongi snaps back, shoving in a piece of pancake.

Everybody around Yoongi pauses, not really knowing what to say to that. Draco Malfoy looks up with a sneer when he hears, sipping his tea and calling down to Yoongi. He almost doesn’t believe that, he says. It feels nice knowing that people follow in his footsteps.

Yoongi gives Draco one dirty look. “Unlike you, I respect my other-house girlfriend and take care of her. We have a long history of loving sex, instead of a long history of mental abuse and bullying. Now, sit back down and eat your fucking waffles, Malfoy, I’m not in the mood to hear you try and convince me that you think Granger is any different to what Parkinson was. You wouldn’t know how to treat a girl properly if someone wrote the steps on your big ass forehead.”

Yeah, nobody really says anything after that, and the Hall falls into a silence for a short twenty seconds. The only noise seems to be the quiet sniggers of a Hufflepuff girl behind Yoongi, who Jeongguk notices moving with giggles. He looks at her and then back at Yoongi, doing the Math when Yoongi smiles to himself at the sound and grins into his pancakes.

(“So... who is the Hufflepuff girl you’re dating?”

Yoongi sighs. “We’re not dating. I just said that to shut up Malfoy.”

“So, you’re fucking a Hufflepuff.”

“Actually, I like to call it we’re-dating-but-it’s-way-too-exciting-to-fuck-in-Snape’s-office-and-labels-are-so-last-year.”

“...You’ve screwed her in Snape’s office? Man, you’ve got balls.”)

((“Wait. You’re screwing Y/N L/N?”

“Correction, I am screwing Y/N L/N with my whole heart inside Snape’s office.”

Jeongguk shudders and when Pansy lifts her head up out of his shoulder, she squints in Yoongi’s direction and yawns: “wait, the one who makes brownies in the kitchens?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies. “And what about it?”

Pansy shakes her head, thinking about it. She lies back down on Jeongguk’s shoulder with a little smile, “She told me that once. I thought she might be joking, but looking back on it, she really talked about you as if she was talking about the stars.”

Yoongi thinks about that for a minute.))

(((“Dude, I think Snape knows.”

Yoongi glances at Jeongguk in potions, stirring the purple liquid. “Knows what? That we fucking suck at potions? Yeah, no shit.”

Jeongguk opens his mouth to speak and pauses when Snape briskly passes their table, sending a curt glare in their direction and then turning to another table. Across from where the duo are standing, you sneak a glance up from your cauldron, half-heartedly pouring in the next vial of liquid.

“No,” Jeongguk replies, “I think he knows that someone had sex in his office. Heard him complaining about it to Dumbledore after breakfast.”

Yoongi flushes. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The words “little shits” were used,” Jeongguk nodded. “You’re on his hit list.”

Yoongi doesn’t quite believe Jeongguk until Snape not-so-accidentally bashes into Yoongi from behind, sending the contents of his cauldron all over the table, soaking not only his own robes and books but also yours. Snape only shrugs his shoulders and forces out a, “You should watch what you are doing,”, taking five seconds to say each word, before deducting fifteen points from Slytherin.)))

173 notes · View notes

euphoriacrossing · 5 years ago

Text

It took a minute but things are kind of as I had hoped.

I know I made a lot of posts before the game came out talking about how I hoped I would be more social due to it and I would play more with friends and for a few days I was worried it wouldn't make a difference. But now I am sure that it is one of many differences it IS making. I have made friends due to it, and I am happy about that.

Spent hours this morning playing with a friend from a small Animal Crossing discord, and even got @dizzimulation to drop by, though he was reluctant, I think or at least hope he got something out of it. But he didn't get his fruit because he didn't leave through the airport, so he has to come back sometime, and I'm almost glad he has a reason to come back because I want to enjoy this game more with him.

(I didn't get enough pictures because I was busy having fun but hopefully next time I'll get more. Better ones than this at least, lol, but this was the one I looked best in... obviously I am in the pineapple dress.)

And so that makes four different people I've had on my island now this week not including my sister who I play with almost constantly as well. (I feel the game has also made our relationship better.) I want to host a bunch of people at once sometime though, and I also want my sister to play with us so she can be in on all the fun as well but she's SUPER shy so we'll see how things go sometime.

Today I also got to go to my friend from the discord's island too. It was really nice, I think it was cuter than mine, but I still think Euphoria needs a lot of work I plan to put in. But it was cool seeing an island other than mine or my sister's... because i don't have much stuff I've run across to put out and beautify my town in thought my island might have a generic look, but in reality our two islands couldn't have been more different. And hers was really nice, but just so different it's hard to make a comparison. I was a bit jealous, well, not jealous really, because I am really happy for her, but just little things like how lucky she got with her map and how she's already about to get the Able Sisters shop already... but I am happy about that one both for her and me because she said she would let me come over once construction is done. So yeah, it was just nice to get a peek at a friend's island and see how differently things can be done in this game.

Right now I have the game open and it's a beautiful perfectly clear night, and the starry sky is so freakin' beautiful. This game is beautifully made, I truly have never seen a game's graphics that I love this much, because i have always loved the style of Animal Crossing but this game is on a new level for sure.

Anyway, i have the game open watching for shooting stars to try and make good use of my time in game while I write this and I've seen and wished on three, but I think it was the second night or something I saw dozens (but only bothered to wish on about a dozen myself), maybe it was a meteor shower or something, I'm not sure, but I would like to get more star fragments now that I have a couple of wand recipes (star and bamboo) because I like having extra wands to be able to gift them to friends who might not have them because I think they are such a fun little part of the game.

And gifting, that's the main reason I need to get all of my friends over for at least a minute or two. I mentioned how I loved the mailing system (ah just caught two more stars!) but I hate that your friends have to come over to be considered your friends in this game. Can't they just detect who is my nintendo switch friend, or ask for a code or something? I mean I guess it is reasonable enough, I am really glad we can do it at all now, but I want to send presents to all my friends. And while we're on what I dislike, I don't like that you can only send two letters a day to each friend. I want to send them something when it makes me think of them and that might be more often than that! But overall I guess my criticisms are just small ones, it's really a lot of fun to get to send my friends gifts and I am really glad it's not limited to best friends like I initially thought. And so I guess I have quite a few people to send to, and I'm not the best gift giver, I am actually hoping this will help with teaching me how to get what people like and such, so I suppose it's alright. I have just had moments when I saw something and thought of a friend I can't send to yet. Guess I'll just start saving those gifts until I can get that friend over for the first time. I have such cluttered storage though.

Well mostly cluttered with my clothes. My wardrobe is really coming along, in that I could actually make more outfits than what the wand holds (including what I wear underneath) so I have still been changing up my underneath outfit a lot as well as using the wand. I hit up three different Mabels today (mine, my friend's, and my sister's) and bought a good bit of what each one was selling. Plus villagers always give (five more shooting stars!) me clothing, I get it from the recycle box, and tons from balloons as well as ordering it from Nook Shopping when I find a piece I like. I try to only get things I like or think will be useful, and I DO sell clothes that i don't like. But there is a lot of cute stuff in this game, and I only hope it's more than I could ever possibly collect, because when I find a cute new piece of clothing I just melt. Like the blossom dress I think it's called, I'd never seen it before and I think it's super darling. (Four more stars!) The clothes are so special to me because in real life for a number of reasons (weight, money, pain and ability, etc) I can't dress in a way that helps me to express myself at all. My hair is similar because I overheat so easily I have to keep it as short as I can, and I can only style it the way my mom likes or she won't be seen with me and that matters as she is my driver and caretaker. (5 more stars). So to be able to express myself in game and look how I want really feels amazing, especially when that is a lot of what my friends will see of me since we're only online friends.

Anyway, tomorrow is Biff's birthday and I looked at New Leaf's guide of what to get him but I don't have any of the main things, and so I am just going to give him something random from my storage. I hope he will like it enough and that his birthday goes well. I dunno if I should invited my sister or people over or try before I go see him, or if I just go over on my own. Biff though has been a real unlikely buddy for me. Tammy and I have clashed since the beginning, which was kind of a bummer because I expected to like her most. And then there was this jock hippo, love hippos, hate jock personalities, so it could have gone either way. But he was funny, and cute, and endearing instead of coming off like an asshole so we were fast pals. He didn't even get a birthday announcement on the bulliten board from Tom Nook... Beau whose birthday is in April already got one, but Biff was maybe too close to the start of the game? Not sure. But maybe I'll draw him something on the board tomorrow. Or well it's technically today.

This has been long enough though. How many stars is that? I might go ahead and do some other stuff online while I look for more, it's a good way to multitask in my opinion. Because I personally never catch them if I'm not looking at the sky, but to sit for an hour or more just staring isn't a great use of time. So to have it open in the background while taking care of other things, that is the way to go! 😁 But yeah, I'll shut up now. Thanks for reading!

#personal #text post #long post #Animal Crossing #New Horizons #ACNH

2 notes · View notes

themyskira · 6 years ago

Text

Wonder Woman #50 postmortem: “You know how strident Wonder Woman fans can be”

I want to cap off my readthrough of this unmitigated shitshow with a look at a recent interview James Robinson did with Newsarama, reflecting back on his twenty-issue Wonder Woman run.

I’m doing this for two reasons: One, because having read the full run and formed my own impressions (and, dare I say, some rather strident opinions), I genuinely do think it can be interesting to see what the writer has to say about it, what they were trying to achieve with it and, looking back, how they feel about the run.

And two, because having read what Robinson has to say, HOOBOY, I HAVE A FEW THOUGHTS OF MY OWN.

Newsarama: James, the one through-line of your entire run is Wonder Woman's twin brother, Jason. I know he was the motivation for you working on this book. Did you know the whole story before you started? Or did this story evolve as you wrote it?

James Robinson: I knew to a degree. As you said, I was specifically asked to pay off the gigantic plot point that Geoff Johns had left at the end of "Darkseid War." So it was always part of my plan.

Are. You. FUCKING. KIDDING ME.

The entire premise of this run. The wholesale derailment of Wondy’s Rebirth story. The rampant shredding of her newly-established Rebirth backstory. Sidelining Diana for the better part of a year in favour of a repulsive twin brother and some shit with Darkseid.

ALL OF THAT.

Served no wider purpose.

Was not intended to build towards some Rebirth metaplot or contribute to an overarching Justice League story.

Was mandated, in fact, for no other reason than that Geoff motherfucking Johns wanted to TIE UP A DANGLING PLOT THREAD FROM TWO-YEAR-OLD CROSSOVER.

He goes on.

Originally, I was going to be on it for a shorter period of time. I had originally planned to be on it for about eight issues, I think. And then when I was getting the twice-monthly book in on time (which is tough; they really beat you up), they asked me to stay on.

There are better, more eloquent arguments against the fortnightly publishing schedule — which is incredibly punishing for creators and prioritises quantity ahead of quality — but none, perhaps, are more simple or succinct than James Robinson got to write twenty issues of Wonder Woman because he got his scripts in on time.

And that gave me more time to develop Jason and play with him more.

I was careful to make sure it wasn't only about Jason, however. I was already getting crap from social media about how this is Wonder Woman's book and she should be the center of attention at all time. You know how strident Wonder Woman fans can be.

Well, that’s an interesting and thoroughly disingenuous interpretation of the critique.

The criticism was not that Wondy must be “the centre of attention at all times”, and therefore Robinson was wrong to spend any time developing any character other than her.

It was that Robinson turned Diana into such a passive, reactive — and, frankly, incompetent — character that she became barely necessary to the story at all. You could remove her from most of the issues in the Darkseid arc without affecting the progression of the plot at all, because she never does anything.

Yes, I got irate when Diana would routinely show up in six or seven pages of an issue, if she appeared at all. Funny thing, when I pick up a book titled Wonder Woman, I expect to occasionally see some actual WONDER WOMAN.

But that was the symptom rather than the problem. Because even when Diana was on the page, she was absent from the story.

And part of this is also about the characters Robinson chose to focus on instead of Wondy: Jason, Grail and Darkseid. Three characters that a lot of fans weren’t interested in, didn’t like and frankly resented having shoehorned into Wondy’s story. True, Robinson may have been asked to include them in the story, but it was his choice to prioritise them over Diana, and it was his writing that shaped Jason into such an odious character (something he confirms in the interview: Johns came up with the idea, he says, but “Most of who the character is now is stuff that I've actually come up with.”)

Put it this way: I didn’t see anybody complaining in December 2016 when Greg Rucka devoted an entire issue to Barbara Minerva’s backstory, did you?

But oh, I’m sorry, was that too strident for you?

Nrama: During your run, you tied into several events that were going on elsewhere in the DC Universe. Even this current story arc ties into Dark Nights: Metal and involves the Justice League. Was that a goal, to make Jason part of the greater DCU?

Robinson: Yes. I always do that stuff, though. I always try to tie into bigger stories. Whether it was my stuff at DC or what I did at Marvel, like Fantastic Four and Invaders and what-not, I always enjoy that about comic book universes. I like when writers try to embrace the whole place.

Here’s the thing about this.

I like the sandbox nature of a shared universe. I’m not a fan of event tie-ins, which have a tendency to derail the stories of individual books in order to aggressively market some company-wide crossover that I couldn’t care less about, but I like that there’s this whole wider world of heroes and villains and settings and mythologies that writers can draw on and play with. And you can tell some really cool stories out of the collision of those different mythologies and characters — think Phil Jimenez’s ‘Gods of Gotham’, for instance, where the Wonderfam and the Batfam are forced to team up when some of Batman’s most powerful rogues are possessed by Ares’ children.

That’s not the way Robinson loops the wider DCU into his stories, or at least it wasn’t in Wonder Woman.

Robinson goes for insider references, often obscure ones, of the sort that will only make sense to people who’ve been reading the same comics as him over the past three decades.

In WW #33, he introduced and then immediately killed off a rebooted version of the Atomic Knights in a four-page sequence that added nothing to the plot.

In WW #42, he featured a flashback to Jason fighting the Deep Six, a group of Jack Kirby villains. Ostensibly this is framed as a set-up by Grail to orchestrate her first meeting with Jason, but Robinson milks it to crack jokes about Kirby’s 1970s dialogue — and if you’re not familiar with the characters (as I wasn’t), their inclusion makes little sense.

In the same issue, Robinson also works in the Wild Huntsman… apparently for no other reason than to amuse himself… and again, if you don’t know who he is, you’ll have no idea why Grail is trying so hard to kill him or why you should care.

And then there’s the Metal tie-in.

Like I said, I don’t like event tie-ins, but it is possible to make them work. G. Willow Wilson’s Ms Marvel has been looped into a number of crossover events over the course of its life, and while I’d prefer that clusterfucks like Civil War II stayed the hell away from Kamala and her pals, Wilson has done an effective job of using these events as a springboard for some really interesting personal conflicts and character work. There’s no extra required reading for these stories; she gives you everything you need to know, so those who aren’t following the event aren’t at a disadvantage.

Robinson gives you nothing.

This is how he links the Dark Gods’ story into Metal:

Diana [narration]: Could I really have summoned this? When we wielded the Tenth Metal against Barbatos, it had the ability to wish thoughts into reality.* Ed. note: * See Dark Nights: Metal #6! — Chris

And a couple of pages later —

Karnell [narration]: ...our beautiful world — which you regard as the ‘Dark Multiverse’ — we see as a paradise… where we were more than even gods to our worshippers… we were everything!

I didn’t read Metal and I’m not planning to. That’s not a value judgement, it’s just not something that sparks my interest.

But it means I don’t know who the bloody hell Barbatos is, and I’ve never heard of the Tenth Metal. I don’t know what the Dark Multiverse is, or how it works, or how it differs from the regular multiverse. When Robinson says Diana made an inadvertent wish while she was wielding this Tenth Metal, I don’t know if he’s picking up on a story point in Metal that I need to read up on.

So right off the bat, Robinson has alienated anybody who isn’t familiar with the event comic he’s drawing from.

And what infuriates me is that at the same time as he was doing all this, Robinson was getting muddled by Wonder Woman’s continuity, conflating superseded New 52 canon with (contradictory) Rebirth canon, inadvertently retconning things and failing even to keep his own narrative consistent. I’d argue he needed to spend less time making references to other comics and more time making sure he understood the one he was writing.

Robinson: [...] what I've always loved about Wonder Woman is her strength. Even when she was in that phase in the white costume, where she didn't have her powers, she had great strength.

Oh, you mean this era?

The era where Diana lost not only her powers, but all of her training and skills? Where she became a weepy, insecure romantic heroine, reliant on men to guide and save her from her own inexperience and her uncontrollable female emotionality? The era where she was constantly crying over her latest rugged love interests? That awesome era?

(Also misogynistic, racist and homophobic as fuuuuuck, but that’s another discussion.)

One of the reasons that era ended was because Gloria Steinham [sic] said, "Hey, she's Wonder Woman! She's a superhero and you've taken away her powers!"

But I actually thought her lacking powers was like saying, I don't need them to be a strong woman. And I think that was almost a more powerful message. I was surprised Ms. Steinem didn't get that, to be quite honest with you.

This is a characterisation of Steinem’s role in that period of Wondy’s history that I’ve seen before (always from men in the comics field), and it’s never sit well with me. It carries an unpleasant shade of gatekeeping.

The implication is that Steinem’s feelings about Wonder Woman (a character had loved since childhood) were less valid or even flat-out incorrect because she hadn’t read the right comics, that she was an ignorant outsider who ruined a good thing by coming in with a political agenda and trying to make Wonder Woman about feminism, that she didn’t have a right to complain about the comic because she wasn’t a ‘real’ fan.

And what Robinson doesn’t mention, as critics of Steinem and Ms. Magazine’s lobbying for a return to the classic Wondy rarely do, is that this campaign was set against a backdrop of unimpressive sales numbers and a struggle over the new direction that eventually gave rise to an ambitious and quite likely divisive ‘women’s lib’ arc written by African-American sci-fi writer Samuel R. Delany, which was intended to culminate in Diana triumphing over a group of male thugs attempting to shut down an abortion clinic run by women surgeons.

I have no doubt that Steinem played an important role in the way events panned out, but I’m also not surprised the ‘women’s lib’ arc never made it past its first issue.

(It was a truly dreadful first issue, btw, though the whole story behind it and what Delany was trying to do with it is fascinating.)

But that didn’t stop DC from kicking off Wondy’s superpowered return with the murder of a composite character representing Steinem and female DC editor Dorothy Woolfolk (whose name had previously been floated as editor for the book).

Then as now, Steinem got blamed by the gatekeepers for daring to interfere with Wonder Woman.

Nrama: Do you think Jason picked up some of her strength over the course of his story arc during your run?

Robinson: I think so, at least at the beginning as he was starting to develop. Now, technically, I suppose he's more powerful than her in that he has the power of their father Zeus and the power of storms and air control and things like that.

I like the fact that when he's given this armor, he realizes that his sister should have gotten it.

And he knows that the powers he has do not make him the better hero.

He knows his sister is the better hero.

So by the end of it, he just wants to be worthy of her, which I think was a nice character arc for him.

I can see how Robinson tried to achieve this character arc, but I wouldn’t call it anything close to a success.

Jason started as a deeply, deeply unlikeable character. He’s deeply selfish and emotionally immature. He doesn’t think about the consequences of his actions, mostly because he’s only ever concerned about how things affect him. When he learns about the mother he never met, when his adoptive father vanishes, every time Hercules leaves on one of his journeys, as he follows his twin sister’s heroics through the media — his thoughts are never about them and what they’re doing, or how they’re feeling, or if they’re okay. It’s always about how they’ve failed him, wronged him, abandoned him.

When we first meet him, he is helping goddamn Darkseid to systematically murder his own siblings. And it’s not because he’s being mind-controlled, or elaborately manipulated into believing that Darkseid is the good guy. It’s because he hates the guts out of Diana, the sister he’s never met, because he believes he’s entitled to the life that she has, and he wants to kill her for it.

If you want to get your readers past all that, you need one hell of a redemptive arc, and that’s one thing Jason never gets.

Because what happens next, after Jason gets an attack of conscience and switches sides, is that he freeloads off Diana, trashes her house, guilt trips her when she tries to set boundaries, and then when, heroism and glory don’t immediately come easily to him, runs away from home in the middle of the night.

The next time we see him is when he returns with the armour and a personality change. He’s still inexperienced, brash, impulsive and annoying, but that’s more or less the extent of it — he’s no longer the thoroughly objectionable character we saw in his first seven issues, and there’s no real explanation for the change.

Really, the vast majority of Jason’s character development takes place in the space between his disappearing at the end of WW #40 and reappearing at the end of WW #41.

Nrama: Wonder Woman #50 definitely feels like it's an ending to your time on Jason's character, and even his time in the book.

Robinson: It definitely has an element of finality to it, but Jason can be there for other writers, or indeed me, if I ever got to write him again.

Excuse me? If you ever got to what now?

Nrama: Is that a hint?

Robinson: I do enjoy writing him. I have this vague fantasy of one day doing a story and calling the comic Jason's Quest, which is an old DC title.

But no one's asked me so far and probably won't. So it's just something in my mind right now.

please, dear god in heaven, please let it stay there.

#the james robinson shitshow #comics talk

27 notes · View notes

dumbledearme · 6 years ago

Text

chapter thirty-one—love never dies

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act IV — To Stop The Tide

Part VI — I was so afraid, now I realize: love is never wrong and so it never dies.

The big ranch house was white. “Don’t break the rules,” Eurytion warned. “No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don’t make any comments about the boss’s appearance.”

“Why?” Andy asked. “What does he looks like?”

Before Eurytion could reply, a new voice said, “Welcome to the Triple G Ranch.” The man on the porch had a normal head but three bodies. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests, one to either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches in between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very beefy legs.

“Say hello to Mr Geryon,” Eurytion advised.

“Hello,” the four of them said together.

Eurytion made the introductions. Then Nico di Angelo came out of the glass doors onto the porch. "Geryon, I won't wait for-" he froze when he saw them. Then he drew his sword.

"Put that away, Mr di Angelo," Geryon snarled. "I ain't gonna have my guests killing each other."

"But that's-"

"Andy Jackson," Geryon supplied. "Anthony Chase. And a couple of their monster friends. Yes, I know."

"Monster friends?" Grover said indignantly.

"The man is wearing three shirts," Tyson only then realized.

"They let Bianca die!" Nico's voice trembled with rage.

"Nico," Andy tried to apologize, "what happened to Bianca was-"

"Don't speak her name! You aren't worthy to even talk about her!"

"Just put the sword away, Mr di Angelo, before I have Eurytion take it from you."

Reluctantly, Nico sheathed his sword. "If you come near me, Jackson, I'll summon help. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise."

"I believe you," she whispered.

Geryon patted Nico's shoulder. "There, we've all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch." He had a trolley thing – like one of those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. Nico sat in the very back with Eurytion beside him. Orthus jumped in the front seat with Geryon. Anthony, Andy, Grover and Tyson took the middle two cars. "We have a huge operation," Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. "Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."

They came over a hill and Anthony gasped. "Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!" The animals had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings.

"Rooster ponies," Tyson said. "Do they lay eggs?"

"Once a year," Geryon grinned. "Very much in demand for omelettes!"

"You can't do that!" Anthony said. "They must be an endangered species!"

"Gold is gold, Mr Chase," he said. "And you haven't tasted the omelettes."

"That's not right," Grover mumbled.

"Now, over here," said Geryon, "we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for way, naturally."

"What war?" Andy asked.

"Any war," Geryon shrugged. "And over yonder, of course, are our prize red cows. Apollo is busy to see them, so he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because they're such a demand."

"For what?" Andy asked.

Geryon raised an eyebrow. "Meat, Miss Jackson! Armies have to eat!"

"You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?" Grover said. "That's against the ancient laws!"

"Oh, don't get so worked up, young satyr. They're just animals."

"Just animals!"

"Yes. And if Apollo cared, I'm sure he would tell us."

"If he knew, you mean," Andy muttered.

Nico sat forward. "I don't care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it!"

"All in good time, Mr di Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic game." The next field was crawling with giant scorpions. "And over here, my prize stables! You must see them!"

About a hundred horses were milling around in poop. The horses were really gross from wading through it, and the stables were just as bad. It reeked like you would not believe. Even Nico gagged. "What is that?"

"My stables!" Geryon presented. "Well, actually, they belong to Aegeas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"

"They're disgusting," Anthony said.

"Lots of poop," Tyson observed.

"How can you keep animals like that?" Grover cried.

"Y'all getting on my nerves," Geryon said. "These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions. Besides, my clients still pay me well for this."

"What clients?" Andy demanded.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time."

"You're a monster," Anthony decided.

Geryon stopped the trolley. "What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?"

"You have to let these animals go," Grover said. "It's not right."

"And the clients," Anthony said, "you work for Kronos, don't you? You're supplying his army with whatever they need."

Geryon shrugged. "I worked for anyone who pays me. I'm a businessman. I sell whatever I have to offer." He climbed out of the trolley.

Nico went after him. "I came here for business and you haven't answered me."

"Fine. You'll get a deal, all right."

"My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need."

"I thought I was the soul you wanted," Andy asked.

Nico glanced at her, disgusted. "Why would I want you, Jackson? Bianca's soul is worth a thousand of yours! Now, can you help me, Geryon, or not?"

"Oh, I imagine, I could," the rancher said. "But, pray, tell me. Where is your ghost?"

Nico looked uneasy. "He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him. But he's around."

Geryon smiled. "I'm sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get... difficult."

"Minos?" Andy exclaimed. "That evil king? That's the one telling you what to do?"

"None of your business, Jackson!" Nico said. "Geryon, what do you mean about things getting difficult?"

Geryon sighed. "You see, Mr di Angelo, Mr Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns who you really are, he'll pay very, very well indeed."

Nico drew his sword, but Geryon knocked it out of his hand. Before Andy could get up, Orthus pounced on her chest and growled.

"Nobody moves or Orthus will tear Miss Jackson's throat out," Geryon warned. "Now, Eurytion, if you'd be so kind, secure Mr di Angelo." Eurytion wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler. "Pick up the sword, too," Geryon ordered. "There's nothing I hate worse than Stygian iron. Now, we've had the tour. Let's go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan army."

"Get Orthus to back off," Anthony told him.

"Don't worry, Mr Chase. Once I've delivered Mr di Angelo, you and your party can go. I don't interfere with quests. Besides, I've been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I'm afraid, include Mr di Angelo."

"Paid by whom?" Anthony asked. "What do you mean?"

"Never you mind. Let's be off, shall we?"

"Wait!" Andy cried and Orthus growled louder. She tried not to move. She needed a plan. She needed to keep Nico safe. She owed him that much. "Geryon, you said you're a businessman. Make me a deal."

Geryon narrowed his eyes. "What sort of deal? Do you have gold?"

"I've got some even better. Barter."

"Miss Jackson, you've got nothing."

"You could have her clean the stables," Eurytion suggested.

"Yes!" Andy exclaimed. "I'll do it! I'll do anything, really!"

"But the horses might eat ya," Geryon observed.

"I don't care! If I fail, you can just... you get to trade us all to Luke for gold, I guess. But- But if I succeed, you've got to let us go, including Nico."

"No!" Nico screamed. "Don't do me any favors, Jackson. I don't want your help!"

Geryon chuckled. "I think not." Eurytion gave Andy a funny look. He whistled and Orthus got off of her. "What are you doing?" Geryon asked. Andy got up and drew her sword. "Eurytion, kill the girl. Now."

Eurytion studied Andy. "Kill her yourself."

Geryon raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Eurytion grumbled. "You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason. I'm tired of dying for you. You want to fight the girl, do it yourself."

Geryon spat on the ground. "You dare defy me? I should fire you right now!"

"And who'd take care of your cattle?"

"Fine!" Geryon snarled. "I'll deal with you later, after the demigod is dead!" He unsheathed two knives from his extra-large belt and threw them at Andy. She dodged one and deflected the other with her sword.

Andy attacked. Geryon dodged her first strike, but he wasn't much of a fighter. Andy got inside his next thrust and stabbed him right through the middle chest. "Aghhh!" He crumbled to his knees. Then he grinned and stood up. The wound started to heal.

"Nice try, child of land and sea," he said. "Thing is, I have three hearts. The perfect backup system." Geryon was about to attack her when he froze. Anthony had moved so fast Andy hadn't see him. He had thrown his knife into the side of Geryon's right chest. It had gone through each o his chests and flown out his left side.

Geryon's face turned a sickly shade of green. He collapsed to his knees and began crumbling into sand, until there was nothing left of him.

"Cool," Andy said, but Anthony looked extremely miserable. He picked up his knife without a word and avoided looking at her. Andy glanced at Eurytion who didn't seem upset at all. "How long until he re-forms?"

Eurytion shrugged. "Hundred years? He's not one of those fast re-formers, thank the gods."

"You said you'd died for him before. How?"

"I've worked for that creep for thousands of years. Started as a regular half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. Worst mistake I ever made. Now I'm stuck here at this ranch. I can't leave. I can't quit. I just tend the cows and fight Geryon's fights. We're kinda tied together."

"Maybe you can change things," she told him. "Be nice to the animals. Take care of them. Stop selling them for food. And stop dealing with the Titans. Get the animals on your side, and maybe they'll help you. Once Geryon gets back, maybe he'll be working for you."

Eurytion grinned. "That would be worth being alive to see."

Andy turned to Nico. "Maybe you should stay here until we're done with our quest. You'd be safe here."

"Safe?" Nico scowled. "What do you care if I'm safe? You got my sister killed!"

"Nico," Anthony said, and he sounded strangely tired. "That wasn't Andy's fault. And Geryon wasn't lying about Kronos wanting you. If he knew who you were, he'd do anything to get you on his side."

"I'm not on anyone's side. Nor will I ever be. Everyone I've ever loved let me down."

"Your sister wouldn't want-"

"You didn't know my sister! And if you cared about her at all, you'd help me bring her back!"

"A soul for a soul?" Andy asked.

"Yes!"

Andy shook her head. "Bianca wouldn't want to be brought back. Not like that."

"You didn't know her!"

"Let's ask her then," Andy suggested and the sky seemed to grow darker.

"I've tried," Nico said miserably. "She won't answer me."

"But she will answer me."

"Why would she?"

"Because," Andy said, suddenly sure of it, "she's been sending me Iris-messages. She's been trying to warn me what you're up to, so I can stop you."

Nico shook his head. "That's impossible."

"One way to find out."

"Andy," Anthony said. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Eurytion scratched his beard. "There's a hole dug out back. You could use that."

And just like that, it was decided.

They did the summoning after dark. Andy was scared. It felt wrong, unnatural. The night air felt cold and menacing.

Minos decided to appear.

"You're disrupting the ritual," Nico told him. "Get out of the way."

"Yes, master. You keep chanting. I've only come to protect you from the liar who tries to deceive you with her womanly charms." Minos turned to Andy. "Child of land and sea. She has the looks, don't you see? Very pretty. Like the ocean. And like the ocean she will crush you with her waves, smother and delude you, letting you think that's love when in fact it is nothing but death."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Andy said.

"Because you're a woman. But we are men," he glanced at the others, one by one, defying them to argue. "They know what I'm talking about. They see it, too."

"Okay, enough with the sex-offender act," Andy mumbled. "Get lost."

The ghost chuckled. "I understand you once killed my Minotaur with your bare hands. But worse things await you in the maze, Andy Jackson. Do you really believe Daedalus will help you? He cares nothing for you, half-bloods. You cannot trust him. He is old beyond counting, and crafty. He is bitter from the guilt of murder and is cursed by the gods."

"The guilt of murder?"

"You are hindering Nico," Minos growled, ignoring her. "You try to persuade him to give up his goal. I would make him a lord!"

"Enough, Minos," Nico commanded.

The ghost sneered. "Master, you are blinded. Smitten. You must not listen to the siren! Let me protect you. I will turn her mind to madness, as I did the others."

"You did that to Chris Rodriguez," Anthony accused.

"The maze is my property," Minos said, "not Daedalus'! Those who intrude deserve madness!"

"Be gone, Minos!" Nico demanded. "I want to see my sister!"

The ghost bit back his rage. "As you wish, master. But I warn you. You cannot trust the girl. The sea is not forgiving." With that, he faded into mist.

Nico gave Andy this weird, pained look before resuming his chanting. It was like he wasn't at all sure if he should listen to Minos or not.

Then, with a silvery light, she was there. Nico's chanting faltered. Bianca smiled. "Hello, Andy." She looked the same as she had in life; there wasn't a trace of resentment in her face. Andy's eyes immediately watered up. The guilt threatened to crush her.

"Bianca," she said with difficulty. "I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Andy. I made a choice. I don't regret it."

Nico stumbled forward. Bianca turned toward him. Her expression was sad, as if she'd been dreading this moment. "Hi, Nico. You've gotten so tall."

"Why didn't you answer me sooner?" he cried. "I've been trying for months!"

"I was hoping you'd give up."

"Give up?" he shouted, heartbroken. "How can you say that? I'm trying to save you!"

"I can't be saved, Nico. Stop trying. Andy is right."

"No! She let you die! She is not your friend!"

"Listen to me," she said with urgency. "Holding grudges is dangerous for a child of Hades. It is our fatal flaw. You have to let go. You need to forgive. Promise me!"

"I can't. Never."

"Andy can help, Nico. I'm sorry, I... I've been avoiding you because I was ashamed. It's not Andy you're mad at, Nico. It's me. I left you to become a Hunter of Artemis. You're mad because I died and left you alone. I'm sorry for that, Nico. I truly am. But you must overcome the anger. Blaming Andy won't take you nowhere. It'll be your doom."

"I just want you back," he said, weakly.

"You can't have that."

"I'm the son of Hades! I can!"

"Stop trying," her figure shimmered. "If you love me..."

"Of course I do! That's why I want you back-"

"Nico..." her voice trailed off. "You may give me all your love and my heart won't quit being cold." She looked over her shoulder. "Tartarus stirs," she warned. "Your power draws the attention of Kronos. The dead must return to the Underworld. It is not safe for me to remain."

"Wait," Nico pleaded. "Please-"

"Remember what I said, Nico," Bianca told him. "And know that love doesn't die when the heart stops beating. Goodbye."

#andromeda #andy jackson #anthony chase #nico di angelo #fanfic #genderbend #dfcrosas #child of land and sea #andony #to stop the tide

1 note · View note

generationclash · 4 years ago

Text

Interview: The New Twentys

1: How did you decide on the name, “New Twentys"?

We were just having one of our random conversations where we try to set the world right and somewhere in that conversation Jimmy said ‘one day this decade will just be referred to as the 20’s and it will be the new 20’s whereas at the moment everyone would assume you mean the 1920’s’. Everyone just looked at each other and said ‘that is the band name’ (which had happened about three times before with previous band name ideas, but this one actually stuck).

2: What inspires you to create?

We are looking for inspiration pretty much everywhere to be honest! Our favourite bands, The Cure, Talking Heads, The Clash, The Police, etc, inspire us a lot obviously. But also we are often inspired by films, funny quotes, past dramas and anything else we end up speaking about.

3: What advice would you give to someone who wants to be in a creative profession?

Well firstly definitely look for better people to give you advice! But if there is no one else than we would say get your head down, don’t worry about anything other than getting 10-20 finished tracks all recorded and sounding as good as you can get them, and that way you don’t have to panic about not having the next song ready and you can focus a bit more on your release plan.

4: Do you feel open minded about what you listen to? Do you like going out of your comfort zone?

Yeah what we all love about this band is how open we are in terms of the music we listen to and where we draw influence from. If we hear a song we like that is always the most important thing, currently we are loving the Miley Cyrus song ‘Angels Like You’.

5: What outlets do you find out about music from? (Record stores, magazines, samplers, etc.)

Harry is always looking through new music Friday to keep his ear to the ground and then telling us what he finds. Jimmy is a victim of instagram ads and will actually click through and follow bands or artists that he sees pop up if he likes it. And Chris is an avid follower of the instagram page 'catatonicyouth' ahaha

6: What was the inspiration for your song “You Got Me Good”?

I (Harry) was recording a track when our friend Sam called. He’s a great guy and photographer who Chris met on a trip in Minneapolis. We ended up chatting for about two hours, he was really hung up on a girl he had got involved with during his trip to London. He then had to go and see some family in Amsterdam and it was during Kings Day, which is where the city basically turns into even more of a party! This is where the lyric ‘surrounded by thousands of people, all I can think about is you,’ came from, because although he was having a good time, he couldn’t stop thinking about this girl. They had also only been talking for a short amount of time, but you could tell he was already in super deep which is what inspired the lyric ‘five years of five minutes, what’s the difference if your whole heart’s in it’. Sometimes I think we all get carried away and create these hypothetical situations of what and how it could be, before allowing it to pan out, and then we get disappointed when the plan that only existed inside our heads doesn’t happen. The song is about the penny-drop moment of ‘oh wow you got me’, because until then, you didn’t even necessarily know how hard you had fallen.

Jimmy came downstairs and heard me working on ‘You Got Me Good’, and he loved it and added the “Who’d of thought that I, would say you always had me all along?” section, and also the opening guitar riff. I had created a rough demo of the track with my vocal on (even though Jimmy is usually the singer) but we decided it should be a duet which is cool because it is the only song of ours so far that is a duet throughout. So at this point, it was a rough demo with the guitar picking riff, midi drums, some piano and just a simple recorded bass loop. Chris and Kamil then jumped on the track and really made it come to life by adding lots of flare and vibe, and they spent a while working out their rhythm parts perfectly around each other. It is also the first track where we recorded live drums instead of programming them, and we definitely feel that was the right choice because on a faster track like this, that extra energy is magic.

Listen to The New Twentys on Spotify: The New Twentys

Follow The New Twentys on Social Media: Instagram + Twitter

Listen to The New Twenty’s guest playlist: Guest Playlist: The New Twentys

#Generation Clash #The New Twentys #Harry Morris #Jimmy Morris #Chris Bourne #You Got Me Good #Interview #New Music Alert #New Music #Spotify #Music Blog #Music Journalism #2021

1 note · View note

unproduciblesmackdown · 7 years ago

Note

hey man your comic stuff?? fucking amazing do you have any tips for a novice child artist such as myself

hmm!!! thats a good question if i have any advice at all…i dont really draw things in comic form that often because of how slow i am…its a whole project for me lol

also natch im just an amateur at all of this vs people who like…pay attention to how to do things really well and/or draw comics on a regular schedule &/or get paid for it and all. so seeing this i was immediately trying to think of like, advice ive seen from random professionals on twitter & stuff & i’ve tried to moreso shake it down to the stuff I’M actually doing when i draw a comic. which is a bit tricky because of my small sample size & the fact that i dont have any kind of consistent process or technique unifying all the comic-type stuff i draw

like sometimes its just a few floating sequential drawings and other times is definitely more like, really thinking of it in terms of how i’m going to structure it in Comic Form & use the format to adjust my presentation of whatever idea i have

like i know ppl whose Job (officially or just by their own standards) to do a bunch of comics pages will do a script of scenes to decide what goes on what page and sort dialogue / action into panels & describe how things will look etc…and then do like maybe really rough layout pre-sketches, then the first rough sketch for a page, an optional more cleaned up sketch layer on top of that, and then the final lineart

i sorrrt of do a version of that, in that i am generally sitting on a Comic Idea for a while before i even start getting into the business of thinking through how it’ll actually work. i have to make sure that im “committed” enough to the idea to wanna make more than one drawing for it, and that i think i have at least a vague notion of how i could put it into a comic. sometimes i DO end up just putting the notion into a single drawing or condensing it into like, 2-3 lil floating drawings or w/e. coz a lot of the times the idea starts out really vague, often with one “moment” that serves as the whole inspiration & that i then try to build a scene/sequence around….a lot of the details beyond that can be really vague in my mind, like the setting or dialogue or who’s involved or what happens or the pacing or extra events or etc…basically Everything is real amorphous for a while

so yea step 1 is me having this one idea and trying to decide if building a scene around it would be a better way to present it vs just having one drawing, & if i think i can actually effectively carry it out….which is in reality even less fancy than it sounds…i just sit on an idea for a while & never get around to actually focusing on it / putting down any of the thoughts abt it that im formulating. but the upshot of me putting it off for forever is that i do end up with a kind of mental script / layout for a comic before i start it…..but even the extensiveness / format of these unwritten scripts varies a lot for me

like, a few times when i have made something that’s maybe longer than just one page &/or something ive been mulling over for an extra long amt of time (which tends to be stuff that is starting out w/ heavier than usual ideas) i’ll like, actually write down what happens page by page, even plan out specific panels, maybe even put down a few rough sketches of certain parts. i’ll have the Main Moment which is the idea that started the whole thing in the first place, but what tends to happen is i’ll come up w other moments that i think could lead up to / frame / follow the main moment, and i pretty much just decide how they all fit into one cohesive piece. so what my “rough drafts” look like for these more extensively planned ones—still really not that exhaustive, i only put things to paper when im basically done enough w my ideas to be just about ready to start actually making them—can vary in their actual formats (e.g. simple chronological bullet points of events, a few drawings, a rough sketch of how the whole thing might look), the core of it is basically just me finding a way to nail down how i’m going to arrange the Moments i have and how i’m going to lead one into the other…….like for things with enough pages / panels, i’ll tend to focus on which Moment will end each page &/or each line of panels, then have an idea of which other Moments i’ll need to put on which of those pages, and kinda figure out how to pace things

again that all sounds like maybe i have a real process…..I Do Not

im kinda lucky in that i think i have a decent sense for composition without having to struggle over it too much. so a lot of times i can leave a lot of that up to be felt out as im actually doing the rough lineart for the first time. i also often don’t nail down panel arrangement that carefully & also make it up as i go along a bit, which is probably not something anyone should emulate. someone was saying something about how some certain page layout of like, 3-something-something panel rows looks best, i dont know. i’m guessing, as with all things, nobody can say “always do this / never do that,” but i think staggering odd/even numbers of panels in each row is always a good guess. just makes it easier for them to read more distinctly at least, surely

sometimes i DO think about certain panels when i wanna frame a certain “shot” in a very specific way. but im just kind of doing whatever. i know vague rules like that wide shots / negative space slows down the pace, vs tightly cropped / small panels / packed w a lot of visual info tends to read as a faster pace, more chaotic. i dont quite go too wild about that sort of thing tho, because for me as a reader, a lot of times really tight shots that are like cutting between 5000 different angles rly fast all in a row, sometimes it is absolutely unreadable to me, as in i do not understand the visual info at all. it feels like the equivalent of how action movie editing keeps hanging on to the “incoherency = intensity” vs just me tuning out until the scene is over & missing details b/c i just am not getting anything out of it

thats not much of a factor for me coz i dont really ever do things with extended sequences of movement / action or whatever. i’ll keep things in one place. i’ll like to do smaller, “quicker” panels moreso to like, show simultaneousish details / to extend one moment…..occasionally i do Big Panels for a moment of higher intensity / impact too. btw putting a High Intensity moment in a super tiny panel is always really funny for the contrast of it all. i dont think ive ever done it, but it is

ummm…….also planning where your speech bubbles will go is good. i dont do that enough, but i should. most of the reason i dont have a more proper, organized process to anything i draw is that i just dont have the focus / patience to slow down for More Planning vs just going ahead and drawing it. jokes on me, since some quick vague planning can make it a lot easier on yourself vs just diving in and struggling w something for ages

uhhh also since im not that fantastic or mindful of panel layout? sometimes i’ll make a point of just having uniform rectangle panels of the same size/shape, so i only have to really worry about the layout within the frame. this is mostly good obv for things with not that much shift in pacing throughout it or action or whatever…you lose the advantage of how panel sizes can affect the tone of a shot or something & probably cant get that detailed in ur drawings but that is often Fine By Me

when i do use the uniform rectangle structure though, i kinda have to focus more on each individual panel, vs like, knowing ok, these three moments are going on this page, i have a vague idea of what’ll connect them, just make up the individual panels as you go along. this does mean that i have to kinda think more about what justifies each panel….how its different from the ones before & after it or how i might want it to be similar to “hold” a shot for a beat or w/e or draw focus to a small movement, what’s actually going into each panel, if i can/should condense two panels into one, etc. its still a lot of playing it by ear, i dont have solid rules of how i think i should do it each time

even when i do have a like whole plan for something im drawing i’ll often make more changes as im actually making it. sometimes its deciding something would be more effective, sometimes it’s just “hey this would work too & be easier,” and thats definitely fine. nobody knows the change you made, and Easier isn’t necessarily Worse anyways. convenience is good where you can get it

ive also definitely had specific comic artists formatting/framing styles in mind when i specifically wanted to use that while drawing my own stuff. like the way i’ll draw maybe a kind of horror vibe (more diagonal lines / “fractured” panels than i’d normally use, quick tiny shots of different smaller details, that kinda stuff) is gonna be different from when its a calm & quiet tone. where i dont really get too creative with the panels really & keep them pretty steady

and then that one time i did a largely nonsequential sort of panel collage b/c the marge simpson anime gave me great inspiration for how to combine & present a bunch of vague notions i had floating around all into one page. it was a good accomplishment & thats unsurprising because the inspiration i was using was That Good. thank god we can all benefit from each others good ideas and knowledge & work & all that. it does help to jump on a feeling of “wow what a cool comic i wish i could make something like that.” just go ahead and make something like that…

ummm this is all on the technical side-ish still but i dont really know what to say abt the kind of stuff that makes me wanna draw a comic in the first place vs just putting the idea into a regular single drawing…usually it Is kind of a more nuanced moment that i think would be better presented within some amount of context and buildup and all that. i basically exclusively draw emotions….and sometimes theyre better shown with some amount of action/dialogue, or at least a few different shots or something. i dont know if this area is helpful information or anything anyone would benefit from knowing about, or even if i have anything to say about it…is it all self evident maybe? idk! i do think i communicate emotions best through comics…not that each one is “here is my mood!” or talking about me at all, but i was for example trying to communicate about an abstract emotion, i think i can draw about it better than talk or write about it or anything. i DO sometimes draw more directly from my own specific feelings/experiences for things, but mostly when i think it can be relevant…i cant really do anything all that directly autobiographical, even casual diary comics or whatever. thats what my text posts are for… but i have been interested in how to convert these huge emotional issues that i’ve been v familiar with into a few pages or panels and how to present its impact in the simplest, straightforward ways i can manage…sometimes i think its worked for sure…..i feel like i gave a more Relatable sense to a certain experience by putting it in comic form than any of the times ive discussed it as a personal thing at length via text. like i said i communicate best via comics probably, despite not drawing them all that much coz im too damn slow lmao

speaking of, i’ve kind of been like “what a waste” abt the fact that i dont have like, a proper approach or regular strategy to thinking up comics before i draw them, but i think theres something actually okay to be taken from that lol……just that i know if i got too caught up in trying to plan it all out perfectly before getting into actually drawing it, i’d be making it into a bigger project and slowing myself down even more & i’d risk dropping it partway through or just never getting started at all. so if i have a less than perfect end result, at least i have an end result, and ive finally got that one idea out of my head in some way. and i feel like some of my comics do work out decently enough….a good handful of times ive been surprised w how well some ppl receive them

so i think it is good to just go ahead and dive in. i did that once w an idea i’d been sitting on for like half a year, and i think it turned out good enough. i just knew i could easily spend months and months more turning over all the details, which might make it Better, but would also mean that yknow, i’d never actually get around to making it b/c of feeling like it had to be ideal. so i simplified it a bit, used a uniform panel layout, did little drawings, and just got it drawn out in an afternoon or two. and now at least it exists lol. and ive sort of come back to the same idea in a way…if i feel like it turns out i wanna elaborate on something more, i can just make another pic/comic built on the same theme, who’s gonna care or stop me

i also try to focus on what lines are/aren’t necessary to avoid things being confusing or just pointlessly cluttery….this isnt a big issue b/c i dont often bother w bgs. dont emulate that either lol…….but im not doing any Serious art so its no big deal to me if im not “good” or not progressing as spectacularly as i might. i dont need my drawing abilities to be that amazing here. but bgs still serve a purpose beyond being a “skill” or whatever so im trying to include them more, aka occasionally, at all. still hardly ever. but sometimes you at least need like one halfassed establishing shot yknow. anyways

mmm this has all been kinda vague and i’m trying to think if there’s anything more specific i could/should talk about!! i dont know. i dont have a good perspective on what its like to look at my art while not being me lol & what ppl might think or what stands out to them or whatever. rip

sorry this is so long, i dont really have ppl wanting to know abt my Processes or drawing thoughts or whatever so i’m kinda jumping at the chance to talk about this sort of stuff after having been actually prompted to. but i dont know if i’ve said anything at all!! i dont know if any of it has been helpful

“tldr; i dont really know what im doing, but go ahead and jump into actually making them as opposed to feeling like youre ready / you know the best way to make a page, because nobodys ever ready or can say This Is The Best Possible Version so just go ahead and use whatever process feels like it makes your life easier, while still actually making the damn comic” is my whole thing, i guess

i dunno, if there was some specific thing you wanted to know abt that i didnt talk about / talk about well here, feel free to ask me to specify because i totally will, which is both an invitation and a warning obviously

sorry this is so long everybody…….writing an essay & by the end of it not being sure if ive given any info at all is part of my whole Thing

#long post //#jfc this is even longer than i thought #i dont know if theres anytning helpful about this at all #maybe its that ‘’if you think i’m good its good news for you b/c you probably know what youre doing just as much if not more than i know #what i’m doing’’

3 notes · View notes