#the moody dark greens always win me over okay?

[asimplearchivist]

Was originally planning a bright and pastel green new theme…oops lol

[usmsgutterson]

Yellow- Pin Hawthorne

OKAY, YES-- I’ve wanted to write for Pin Hawthorne since having finished the show, and I’ve decided to do it, because I simply can’t resist and Pin is my favorite moody horseboi, plus, this blurb (imagine? I don’t know how long it’s gonna go yet!) is entirely inspired by the songs Yellow and Sparks by Coldplay, because the show is modern and the songs were released W A Y before the years that show is set in, so yay! 

Pins aged up in this, as well. In the show he’s around 16-17? In this, he and the reader are both 20!

I might have Pins characterization a little off because I’ve only watched the show once (I’m gonna rewatch it before I do a shadow and bone rewatch,, moody pin is just a bit too endearing) but other than that, lets do it!

The reader is American for this, and I did mostly keep it gender neutral, aside from an outfit description! Even then, though, I did try to keep it androgynous

Fic type- fluff

Warnings-none

It took a ton of convincing on Pins part to get his dad to let him use the castle for something that, to anyone else, might’ve seemed small. He’d known it might’ve, and started the process a good month before the event was even to happen. A decision that he’d made that wound up working in his favor. 

“You really love them, don’t you?” His father asked, pressing the keys into his palm as Pin gave a nod. “Even with all the stupid nicknames?” Pin grimaced, but nodded again. 

“Even the stupid nicknames, Dad,” he assured. “All of them.” His father broke out into a smile, pulling Pin in for a hug as he tucked the key away into his jacket pocket.

“Well then, happy anniversary,” his father mumbled. “Five years? Gotta admit, I had faith, but I didn’t think you’d make it this far. Not with someone like them.”

“I know,” Pin retorted. “I’m pretty lucky.” Pin knew that ‘pretty lucky’ might as well have been understatement of the year, but went along with it anyway, pulling away from his father and slowly approaching Elvis, patting his side a few times before climbing onto the saddle and riding down to the castle that he, as the duke, could technically call home. 

The castle was big and at times, tough to get around, but he made his way just fine, letting Elvis move at a slow gallop rather than a run, figuring that he had the time, considering you’d agreed to meet at 8 and it was barely 7:15.

When he arrived, he put Elvis away safely, and made his way through the entrance and up to the outdoor balcony, which had a view outlooking the expansive land on which the castle was built, and the trees that went around the outerrim of the space.

He grabbed his bag off the chair on which he’d had his butler leave it the day previous, almost grinning to himself as he sat at the glass table, rummaging through the bag for everything that he’d put in it.

A bottle of wine, because why not, several sweets, a ton of the polaroids you’d taken in the seven years you’d known each other, some fairy lights that he’d hang up so that you weren’t totally and completely in the dark, and a bluetooth speaker that Becky had gotten him that Christmas; one that he’d still not bothered to use, despite the fact that it was almost June. 

“Can I get you anything sir?” Arthur poked his head through the balcony door way, and Pin found himself startled. 

“Uh, yes please. Wine glasses,” Arthur gave a single, solitary nod.

“The dinner that you requested will be here by the time you requested for it,” he responded. “Though, are you really sure fast food is what you want? It doesn’t seem right to celebrate an anniversary with fast food.” Pin forced his gaze to his lap so that Arthur wouldn’t glimpse his smile. 

You’d come from America, just like Zoe had, but you’d moved with your family to the island when you were eleven. You’d met Pin when you were thirteen. 

One summer, Pins father was insistent that he get away from the stables, spend some time somewhere he’d not gone before, travel a little, and your family had agreed to let him spend the eight weeks of summer with you in the united states. 

You’d had your first date in a McDonalds that same summer, when you and Pin were fifteen. He’d felt weirded out, at first. The fact that he’d never eaten from a McDonalds, despite there having been a couple on the island, almost made him confused. You’d gotten chicken nuggets to split and a couple of the pastries to count as a desert of sorts, and thus sparked the relationship.

“No reason,” Pin murmured. “It’s quick. It’s easy, and the last meal that they ate was lunch.” Arthur gave another nod, and Pin began fiddling with the speaker as he heard Arthurs footsteps grow farther and farther away. 

It was a speaker that was almost the size of his hand and designed to look like a vintage radio. Forest green was the color, and the dial on the right side would control volume. The three buttons below the dial were the power button, the on/off button, and the skip button. Pin turned it on, checking the sound quality by playing two MCR songs, silently bopping his head as Arthur returned, the supplies that Pin had asked Arthur to gather in a bag perched neatly on his arm.

Arthur placed the bag on the table wordlessly, leaving Pin to do his thing as he stopped using the speaker,  deciding that the sounds of nature; the river, the rustling of trees and the beautiful view of the sky as the sun grew closer and closer to setting was much better company than Gerard Way scream-singing his lungs out. 

He’d spent the remainder of the time he had working on your gift. At the end of it, he felt proud of himself, even despite how dumb he’d thought the idea was at first.

It was all of his favorite photos of you--polaroids he’d taken via polaroid camera and polaroids that became polaroids when he’d used a polaroid printer alike-- neatly put into a big picture frame, plus a couple of his sweaters that you liked to steal, some of your favorite sweets, and a journal he knew you’d been eyeing at one of the shops. 

Arthur put the McDonalds onto the table in the last ten minutes before eight, putting the wine glasses beside the bag. “I’ll send them here when they’ve arrived,” he murmured, shooting Pin a smile as he turned and walked away. 

Sure enough, ten minutes later, Pin had the dinner mostly set up, the chicken nuggets at the center of the table, fries on either side, wine glasses filled the appropriate amount. 

“You’re lucky I love you, Hawthorne,” Pin was almost breathless as he glanced over to you, putting the bag that he’d put your gift in on the ground to his right. “If you were anyone else, I’d not have waited so long to eat dinner.” You’d worn a simple pair of black jeans, with a black turtleneck and a dark gray blazer overtop. You styled your hair like you always did, and your smile was bright, eyes warm as you looked at him.

“McDonalds and wine,” you sat, putting the gift you’d gotten Pin on the ground to your left, reaching across the table and taking his hand in yours. “The perfect way to a persons heart.”

“Do you like it?” He asked, gesturing to the fairy lights Arthur must’ve put up while he was busy in the world of gift making. They weren’t lit yet, as the sun had barely begun to dip over the horizon, but he’d light them once it grew darker. You nodded.

“It’s absolutely lovely,” you responded. “I didn’t think you’d put this much effort in, to be totally honest.” You were poking at him, pricking gently at his work ethic in the hopes of getting a kiss across the table. 

“I’d have been fine just cuddling the day away,” you admitted. “And I know you would’ve, but thank you. For everything.” He smiled, feeling grateful for Zoe’s suggestion that he use the castles balcony to his advantage when he’d brought his plans up to her and Marcus. 

“You’re welcome,” he responded. 

After that, you lapsed into a comfortable silence, making occasional conversation as you ate and drank. You let Pin ramble about the sick horses at Bright Fields and made a mental note to visit the hospital part of the stables, see how they were doing and make sure they knew that they were loved. As you cleaned up, putting your garbage back into the McDonalds bag, you gave Pin updates on some of the horses around the stables and the wild horses that you and Jade had been tracking. 

“There’s a foal, too!” Pin loved seeing you get so excited, and that was no exception. “I know that we shouldn’t name the wild horses, but I couldn’t help myself, so I named the horse November.”

“Why November?”

“The foals coat is white. Snow is white, and snow happens in November. It just seemed fitting!” You grabbed the bag, going inside only briefly to put it into the nearest trash bin before walking back out and sitting back down. 

Pin grabbed the bag with your gift in it at the same time you grabbed the bag with his. He slid yours to you with a bright smile, and you slid his to him with the same.

You opened yours first. “Your hoodies!” You yelled out, smile turning into a full on beam, “Pin, you know that we’re moving in together in the fall, right? You’re just gonna get these back!” Pin shrugged.

“You get them until the fall, I’ll wash them, wear them a couple of times, and then they’re yours again. I get to see you in my clothes and you get to be warm and comfortable constantly! I call it a win-win situation!” 

“Can’t disagree with that!” You put the sweaters back in the bag, grabbing the photo frame next. 

You sighed, feeling your legs turn to jello as your heart melted. You looked up at him, feeling tears well up in your eyes as you did. “Five years of polaroids,” you whispered. “And you’re giving them back to me?” Pin just shrugged, feeling tempted to round the table, crouch next to you and kiss you senseless, but he resisted. 

“I took photos of them,” he responded, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket and waving it around. “I can always get more copies from the polaroid printer.” You laughed lightly.

“Thank you, Pin, so much.” You’d never stop saying it. You had so much to thank him for. Every smile, every laugh, every dinner date, every ride out into the countryside and every kiss. 

“You don’t need to thank me, love,” he responded. “Theres one more thing in there for you.” He gestured to the bag as you put the photo frame back into it, pulling out the journal you’d been eying a moment later. 

“No fucking way!” You cursed, turning it over in your hands. Pin leaned back into his chair, shrugging while he nodded. 

It was a simple journal: a brown leather bound thing that was the same color as Elvis’s fur, but it had pages that were suitable for practically anything.

“I know you’ve wanted it for a while, and, well, I figured you could use it for just about anything. Sketches, diary entries, even putting bank statements in the thing would make a good use for it,” You slightly stood, planting a kiss to his nose across the table. 

You put the journal back into the bag and gestured to the bag he’d put in his lap. “It’s your turn, duke.”

“Don’t call me that,” he whispered. He narrowed his eyes at you, but the smirk that followed after told you he’d not been serious. 

The first thing he’d pulled out was a scrapbook of the years that you’d spent together. From photos like the victory one that Ted had taken after you’d completed riding lessons, Pin doing a thumbs up on the right side of your horse while you sat on it still, throwing a peace sign and smiling, to random photos you’d taken together. 

Blurry ones that’d been taken with the timer feature. You flipping off the camera while Pin flopped back onto his bed. One from when you were both sixteen, in the middle of turning around, his arms snaked around your waist and yours resting on his shoulders as you kissed, the screen blurred but not so blurred that you couldn’t tell what was happening. 

A couple that Zoe, Jade, Becky and Marcus had taken. You, exhausted, with your head in Pins lap as he fiddled with a camera, curled up and almost hidden from sight in the haybales. You and Pin at the pony prom, slow dancing, looking at each other with nothing but love in your eyes. A shot taken as you and Pin left the stables, backs to the camera, hands interlocked. A photo of you and Pin in the haybales again, you with your head on his chest, his arm around your shoulders, hay in your hair. A laptop sat discarded beside Pins sleeping body, playing old episodes of Criminal Minds. Both of you had sleepy smiles on your faces. 

Pin laughed as he saw more than one picture of you two asleep in the haybales, some taken by Jade, most taken by Zoe, though there were a few shots that’d been taken by his father. 

“I love this,” he glanced up at you, then to the speaker that sat on the edge of the table. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, horse-boy!” He snorted, putting the scrapbook on the table and grabbing the next thing in the bag.

It was a sweater; one that he’d not seen since before his eighteenth birthday. “Thief,” he murmured, folding the sweater and putting it atop the scrapbook. 

“You’re my favorite person,” was your lovestruck retort. He blushed as he grabbed the last thing in the bag.

It was a camera; a polaroid to replace the one that’d been broken in the months before, and it was vintage. 

“You didn’t,” he looks up at you, face showing disbelief as clearly as his voice did. In response, you just shrugged.

“We’ve taken a lot of photos, and you loved the polaroid camera. I used a connection or two that I have and I grabbed it for you.”

“How much was it?” He asked. “We had a limit! No more than fifty pounds!” 

“It was forty nine pounds, and the taming of a wild horse found just outside the coast of Maine. She comes in a couple of days, by the way.” Pin put the things back in the bag and stood, grabbing the speaker and turning it on, connecting his phone to it a minute later.

“You love chaos,” he teased. “But I love you, so I love it by association.” He held his hand out to you, and you took it, giggling as he pulled you in close, bringing you into a passionate kiss that lingered on your lips even after it’d ended. 

He paused only to have Yellow by Coldplay stream through the speaker, putting his phone on the table next to it.

“May I have this dance?” He asked, emphasizing more on his accent in a silly way to get you to laugh. It worked, to his delight, as you nodded, cheeks flushing bright red.

“You may have every dance, if you so wish it,” he felt his cheeks heat up as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead and gently swaying with you as your arms moved to rest at his shoulders and his moved to your waist, wrapping around it, his hands meeting and folding at the small of your back. ‘

He’d found a way to loop the song so that it played a couple of times back to back, but you didn’t mind. You had Pin. You had Pin and his sarcasm, his smiles, his voice, still drenched with sleep in the mornings and his peaceful face while he slept. You had tea in the mornings, quiet afternoons spent riding or in helping horses, and evenings laughing with your friends, Pin at your side. 

You’d known Pin for seven years, and you’d been dating him for five. He was like the lgiht at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel, and he embraced you tightly as you finally escaped it. 

“What makes you happy?” he asked you absentmindedly, just to get to hear the melodic sound of your voice again. You laughed, meeting his gaze with a smile. 

“You, Pin,” you responded. “You make me happy.” He stared at you for a long moment, wishing that he had what he’d kept in his sock drawer since Christmas. 

“What makes you happy?” You repeated.

“You, Y/N. Always you,” you leaned up, pressing your lips to his without so much as thinking twice.

The kiss was messy, and you stumbled backward a little, but you giggled as you did. When you pulled away, you were delighted to find that Pins cheeks were burning as bright as yours, the same red that coated some parts the sky as the sun dipped down the horizon. 

“You’re the love of my life,” Pin was almost in awe at how easily you said it, like you’d been reading off a grocery list or ingredients for a recipe. Pin had wanted to say it since he’d bought the thing that sat in that pathetic little sock drawer, but he’d still not figured out how to say it and make it worthwhile.

“Do you want forever?” The closest he’d get, but he was fine with that, and relieved as you’d nodded. “I promise you forever then, Y/N.”

[omgrachwrites]

Playing The Hero - Chapter One

Pairing: Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Reader

Summary: Soulmates have a way of seeing and feeling each other’s emotions by a gem that is set in the palm of their hand which glows with magic. The colour of the gem on the palm of your hand, erratically changes between different colours. Unbeknownst to you, every time the gem on your soulmates palm glows blue he feels very over protective and worried. That’s just what happens when your soulmate always plays the hero. Soulmate AU

Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, character death

Words: 2405

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: This is the first part, thanks again for the amazing idea @annemagus​! As I said, I won’t be doing this on a proper schedule because I will be alternating this weekly with another fic! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think, and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

masterlist

Gem Colours

Yellow - Happy, Secure, Excited

Red - Scared, Nervous, Unsure

Grey - Stressed, Worried

Blue - Sad, Hurt, Frustrated

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

Chapter One 

It was past midnight when you were woken up in your bed by a pleasant warm tingle on the palm of your hand. Running a hand through your messy hair, you yawned, blinking a couple of times as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. It was deathly silent but you could see the glow of the pretty fairies through the sheer linen of your curtains. Remembering why you were awake in the first place, you looked down at the palm of your hand, running your fingers over the gem that was fixed in it.

A surge of happiness passed through your chest when you saw that it was glowing yellow. Your mum and dad had always told you the tale of soulmates, that you could see and feel the emotions of the person you truly belonged with. It was different for everyone, some people were born with the magical gem set in the palm of their hand and for others, it appeared later in life. Your gem had appeared last year when you were ten years old, and you had been so surprised that you almost stumbled into your algae filled pond.

“Yes!” you squealed, jumping out of bed, suddenly feeling much more awake.

For the past year, the colour of the gem hardly moved off of blue. What had happened to make your soulmate so sad? But now it shone as brightly as the sun and you were ecstatic. Completely forgetting about the time, you threw open your bedroom door and raced down the hallway, your hair streaming out behind you. As you reached the top of the staircase you saw that your parents bonfire outside was still lit. When it was a warm summer’s night your parents would cuddle up outside together, you thought it was awfully romantic.

When you stepped outside you took a deep breath, the air smelled like the lavender that your mum loved to plant and the gentle wind blew at your hair. Your mum grinned and kissed your dad’s cheek before she noticed you and a look of surprise graced her pretty features.

“Y/N! What are you doing awake? Are you having trouble sleeping, sweetie?” she asked but she created a space for you beneath the thin patchwork blanket.

You smiled as you sat between your parents, “look!” you beamed as you lifted the palm of your hand, “it’s yellow! It’s finally yellow!”

Your mum gasped in delight and pulled you closer while your dad kissed the top of your head, “I’m so happy for you, poppet. But maybe I should brush up on those defensive spells that I learned with the Marauders in school,” he winked at you as he pulled his wand out of his pocket and brandished it.

You and your mum exchanged glances before bursting out into laughter, the sounds of your families’ happiness filling the silent summer night.

It was your second year at Hogwarts and you were sitting in the library on a blustery Tuesday afternoon, helping Neville Longbottom with his homework. With a small smile on your face, you watched as Neville scrawled on his piece of parchment, his hand moving at lightning speed, his tongue stuck out with a look of concentration on his face.

After a couple of moments, Neville looked up at you nervously as he pushed his essay over to you so you could read it and give him your feedback. You nodded as you easily deciphered his messy handwriting before smiling over at him.

“This is good work, really good work! It’s amazing what you can achieve when Snape isn’t bullying you!” Neville gave you a shy grateful smile but you could tell that he was pleased with himself.

You winced as a sting of searing pain shot through your palm and you sighed when you saw that the gem was red, the colour of fear. But lately, that was to be expected – if your soulmate was indeed a Hogwarts student – because the Chamber of Secrets had been opened and muggle borns were getting attacked left and right, so most people were scared these days. Hogwarts wasn’t the safest haven anymore.

Neville gave you a worried look as he bit his bottom lip, “are you okay, Y/N?” he asked and you nodded absent mindedly as you rubbed at the palm of your hand, you were worried.

“It’s um, it’s my gem, it’s red. He’s scared, my soulmate is scared.”

Neville frowned at you as he nervously fiddled with his fingers, “how do you know your soulmate is a boy?”

You shrugged, deep down you had a strong feeling about it, “I just have this nagging feeling.”

Neville smiled at you weakly before he looked over your shoulder to nod at someone who was passing by your library table, “hi, Harry.”

“Hullo, Neville,” Harry Potter mumbled back and you barely spared the boy a glance.

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that the gem on the palm of his hand was grey, the colour of stress and worry.

At fourteen years old, you were sitting in the stands with your friends and excitement was running high as it was the final task of the Triwizard Tournament.

“I can’t wait to see who wins!” Ginny Weasley grinned at you, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder.

You giggled as you looked at the four champions who were waiting outside the enormous maze which was previously the Quidditch pitch. Harry Potter, the youngest and surprise champion looked positively green as he pushed his round glasses up his nose. It looked like he was about to throw up.

“5 galleons for Cedric to win.”

Ginny smirked at you, challenge sparkling in her eyes, “oh, you’re on, Y/L/N! I’m betting that Fleur is going to win,” she offered you her hand and you both shook on it.

With excitement in the pit of your stomach, you watched the champions enter the maze one by one. When all the champions were inside the maze, the trial became a waiting game and you shared Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott’s with Ginny. Krum and Fleur were the first two to drop out of the competition – much to Ginny’s dismay – so now it was just between Cedric and Harry.

A little while later, Harry reappeared on the lawn, the crowd greeted him with cheers and the band started playing. Someone screamed and the band’s music died when everyone realised that Harry was sobbing and clutching a lifeless body. The smile slid from your face like Stinksap and dread filled your stomach when you put everything together. Tears stung at your eyes and an almost overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over you like a tidal wave as you realised that Cedric was dead. Cedric had always been so kind to you even though you hadn’t known him very well. Sadness rippled through the crowd as people began to cry and mutter to each other.

You wiped your eyes and sniffled as you looked down at Harry as he cradled Cedric’s body, Harry glanced up with red rimmed eyes to meet yours for a split second before he was escorted away by Professor Moody. You watched him disappear into the castle with a strong sense of foreboding.

In your fifth year, you had your first kiss in The Three Broomsticks with Draco Malfoy – against your better judgement of course – though you knew that he wasn’t your soulmate. It certainly didn’t feel like he was but you just wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone. Neville had somehow persuaded you to join Dumbledore’s Army, a secret group that Harry had started to rebel against Umbridge.

You had only turned up a couple of times because you weren’t exactly friends with Harry so you felt a little awkward by being there. Also, your fellow Ravenclaw, Cho – an extremely pretty and popular girl – spent the lessons flirting with Harry even though Cedric had only died at the end of the previous year.

At first, it was endearing to watch Harry stammer through the lessons, glancing over at Cho every now and then with a pretty pink flush to his cheeks. It got old very quickly and the sight of their flirting created a weird feeling in your stomach. Why hadn’t you found your soulmate yet? Was he even in Hogwarts?

Right now, you were enjoying your summer break and you were about to go into your sixth year and you were still none the wiser about who your soulmate was. You had been writing to Ginny and she had offered to help you in your search for your soulmate. You were going to find him this year, even if he wasn’t at school with you, you’d find him.

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

Harry’s spirits were low as he, Ron and Hermione walked down Diagon Alley, it was dark and gloomy with the dirty brick walls plastered with posters of wanted Death Eaters. It was clear the effect that the brewing war had had on it. Harry bit his lip as they walked past the ice cream parlour where he had spent most of his time in the summer before his third year, eating sundaes in the sun. Now it was dark and vacant with a window smashed. It was sad how much the once colourful street had changed in just a few years.

Ron nudged him in the ribs as they turned the corner and pointed towards the end of the street, “there it is, look!”

Harry glanced over to where his best mate was pointing and he grinned at the ridiculously colourful shop that belonged to Fred and George, if anything it seemed to make the rest of the street even darker, the twins certainly didn’t do anything by half measure. He felt relieved that there was still room for some happiness, it was clear that it would lift anyone’s spirits.

“I actually love it,” Harry grinned, threading his fingers through his hair as he watched Hogwarts students file in and out of the shop.

Hermione smiled but Harry could see the fear in her eyes, but when she spoke her voice was quite calm, “how are they even doing it? They could get into serious trouble.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he looked over at Ron with a smirk but his smirk faltered when he saw Ron staring at Hermione, Ron reached out for her but seemed to change his mind at the last moment. With flaming cheeks, Harry looked away from them, it was only a matter of time before they became a couple, but he only hoped that their friendship would be able to take it.

Harry felt a strong sense of relief as they walked into the overcrowded and noisy shop; it was a welcoming change from the empty quiet street outside. Everything was so colourful that it made Harry feel a little dizzy as he grinned at Ron as they headed straight over to the Defence against the Dark Arts section, jumping almost a mile high when a firework exploded over his head.

Ron nodded at the gem on Harry’s hand, shaking a hand through his hair, “it’s on blue, mate.”

Harry grumbled as he looked down at the gem that was emitting a dark blue light and he scowled at it, “yeah, it’s been that way on and off for most of the summer, and there’s nothing I can do about it, I just wish I could do something,” he flushed as he averted his eyes, he almost felt embarrassed talking about this with Ron.

Shaking his head, he quickly turned around without looking where he was going and a result he walked straight into someone, causing them to drop their boxes onto the floor. Harry’s cheeks heated up as he began to stammer out apologies, “Merlin, I um, I’m so sorry,” he chuckled nervously, pushing his glasses up his nose as he bent down to help whoever he had bumped into.

He heard a breathless laugh, a laugh that was almost like a summer breeze, “it’s okay, really. Thank you, Harry,” he glanced up in surprise and found himself looking into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. The girl grinned at him as they both stood up and Harry handed her the boxes back, “thanks again,” she smiled.

Harry nodded before shaking himself out of it, he recognized her from last year, she’d come to a couple of DA meetings, she was a Ravenclaw, “it’s Y/N right?” he smiled when she nodded with a flush high on her cheeks, “yeah, I remember, you came to a couple of DA meetings.”

“Yeah,” she shot him an apologetic look, “I really didn’t want to get into any trouble,” she smiled sheepishly but Harry understood, “are you doing it again this year?”

Harry shook his head as he fiddled with the sleeves of his jacket, “there’s no need, Umbridge is gone,” every time he said that out loud or even thought about it, he felt very smug.

“Thank Merlin,” Y/N giggled; tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she bit her lip, “it was really good of you to bring everyone together like that. I know that Neville and Luna felt at home during those meetings.”

Harry let out a soft chuckle as he averted his eyes, he hardly knew her but he felt pleased at her words, “anyway, I should probably go and find Luna, I guess that I’ll see you around Harry.”

“Bye, Y/N,” he smiled, watching her as she walked away.

“Someone’s got a crush!” Harry jumped when he heard a voice in his ear and he turned to see the smirking face of Fred Weasley.

“Who’s got a crush?” Ron asked as he pushed his way through the crowd.

“Ooh, has someone got a crush?” Hermione piped up before Harry could defend himself.

“Harry’s got a crush on Y/N Y/L/N, the Ravenclaw student,” Fred smirked; he looked too delighted to be the one conveying this news.

“I do not!” it was true, he didn’t have a crush on her – she was very pretty – because he’d only just met her properly.

“She is very pretty!” Hermione grinned.

“I don’t have a crush,” Harry scoffed and scowled at his friends as he made his way to the till to pay for his things. His friend’s raucous laughter following him. With friends like these, who needs enemies?

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

[bbyx]

ripple effect - part five

Summary: During her fourth year at Hogwarts, (y/n) Deauxville falls for none other than Cedric Diggory. But it's not easy when you have to deal with protecting your family's fortune, keeping your father's illness a secret and having two of your closest friends catch feelings for you.

Pairings : reader x cedric, reader x draco, reader x harry

(y/n) walks inside the huge double doors of Hogwarts when she gets hit in the face by a balloon. It explodes and leaves her soaking wet.

"Oh fuck you Peeves."

Peeves shrieks in delight seeing Millicent’s smooth newly straightened hair frizz back up to her usual red curls.

(y/n), Millicent and Daphne walk inside the bright Great Hall.

You eye your usual spot where Draco is sitting with his henchmen and you drag your friends away. They shoot you confused looks because you always sit in the exact center of the Slytherin table but you smile reassuringly.

"I want to be near the front today. So Daphne can have a front row seat to her sister's sorting ceremony."

Daphnee looks charmed by your thoughtfulness.

Thank god I was born a good liar.

The hat sings another ridiculous song. The first years line through the great hall and Professor Mcgonagall begins shouting names out. You start cracking your knuckles waiting for someone else to be sorted into Slytherin so your house can cheer loudly,

"Greengrass, Astoria"

"SLYTHERIN"

What seems like the entirety of the Slytherin house jumps up and cheers for the little brunette girl.

A proud looking Astoria Green takes the hat off and hurries to the Slytherin table, where everyone was applauding her. Harry caught a glance of (y/n) cheering Astoria on. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Slytherin table too.

During the whole dinner, (y/n) could feel Draco's eyes burning into the back of her head. She focused hard on not looking to her right and meeting his eyes. But during  dessert, while searching for the treacle tart, you meet his eyes. He looks strangely hurt?

As soon as Dumbledore starts his usual speech you zone out and start thinking about the hundreds of things on your mind and worrying about your father's business.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"WHAT! Did he just... That's ridiculous... He can't possibly... Tell me he didn't just say... no quidditch?" You're at a loss for words.

Even if (y/n) didn't play Quidditch herself she was the Slytherin team's number one fan. She was there at any game, didn't matter the weather, and she screamed her lungs out cheering. The team even gave her an honorary member's Quidditch robe for Christmas. It was one of her most cherished possession.

For the first time this evening, you willingly look at Draco. You know that as the Slytherin Seeker Draco would be flipping tables. His cool gray eyes meet yours. He looks utterly unphased. You cock your head to the side, silently asking him What the fuck is going on?.

Just wait. He mouths back. (y/n) rolls her eyes at him, obviously annoyed and turns away.

A battered looking man bursts through the doors. His glass eye jerking around then fixes on (y/n). A shudder goes down her spine.

What a creepy little man.

"May I introduce the New Defense against The Dark Arts teacher" Professor Dumbledore bellows. "Professor Moody!"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"As I was saying" Dumbledore continues " we have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my greatest pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"YOU'RE JOKING!" says Fred loudly.

You were too busy trying to remember a conversation you overheard at the Burrow about Professor Moody to process all the excitement around you.

As students start to file out of the Great Hall, you feel someone tug at your robes.

"Do you know there's house elves at Hogwarts?" Hermione presses.

" Um yeah, never been to the kitchens?"

"No. And it wasn't mentioned in Hogwarts: A History." She purses her lips and continues.

"Do you have house elves (y/n)."

"We had a couple elves when I was little but then one of my dad's muggle business partners accidentally spotted one and the ministry had to erase his memory. Quite a funny little accident actually. So then my dad freed the elves and got muggle staff. Why?"

"Oh (y/n)! We have to do something about the house elves. It's basically slave labour. I was thinking about starting an organisa-"

She gets cut off by Fred and George.

" That's bloody bullshit! They can't do that!" George bursts. " We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot!"

"They're not stopping me entering." says Fred stubbornly. " The Champion'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be able to do normally. And a hundred thousand Galleons."

"Yeah" says Ron wistfully "Yeah, a hundred thousand Galleons."

"God, Ron don't tell me you were actually thinking of entering. You wouldn't last a second" You tease.

"I'd last longer than you." He says poking his tongue out.

"Don't know about that" Harry joins.

"(Y/N) C'MON YOU'RE TAKING FOREVER." Daphne hollers from across the hall.

Ron turns a little pink when he hears her voice. Even though he would never admit it, you know he had a slight crush on Daphne.

You wave the Gryffindors goodbye and go meet your other friends.

"Death toll, huh?" Millicent says.

"Who do you think is gonna enter?" Daphne quips.

"I know Nick is gonna want to enter." Rolling your eyes at Millicent, who's blushes furiously whenever you mention your brother. " And probably some of his friends."

"You think Jeremy Barlett will enter? You shattered his nose less than a day ago!"

"Who knows" You laugh.

"(y/n)!"

You turn at the sound of that voice.

"Don't forget our date Saturday" Cedric shouts from the other end of the hallway. A group of Ravenclaw girls glare at you. You blush furiously as you walk towards him.

"A date, huh?" You smirk "Sorry Diggory I have no clue what you're talking about

He laughs. A beautiful melodic laugh. "Saturday, nine thirty, Great Hall."

"Only if you bring chocolate frogs" You cross your arms. He shakes his head and chuckles.

"Done."

You see Nick and his friends round the corner of the hallway, they join Cedric’s side.

"Oi Ced! Is my little sister annoying you?" Nick chuckles.

Yay! The arrogant asshole's here.

"Oh fuck off Nick" You say hitting him with the back of your hand.

"Feisty" Says Xavier, his Ravenclaw friend.

"Now now (y/n), that's no way to speak to your brother, the future Triwizard champion." Nick boasts.

You stifle a sarcastic laugh.

"Nick, you're not seriously thinking about entering" (y/n) wheezes "even Jeremy, with his broken nose, has a better chance of winning than you."

Nick shoots you the dirtiest look. Eager to change the subject he says

"Any of you guys entering?"

"Maybe"

"Sure thing"

"Absolutely"

"Of course"

(y/n) is taken aback by Cedric's answer. She turns to him.

"You're entering?"

Cedric looks down at the pretty little face looking up at him."You're entering?" She asks, a worried grimace flashes across her face."Yeah why ? Don't think I can do it?" He would never admit it but her opinion mattered to him, a lot. "No um I mean you're really talented but are you sure you should. It's.. it’s really dangerous."

Cedric doesn't miss the slight blush that sweeps across her cheeks as she says this.

Before he could answer, Professor McGonagall stomps in.

"Everyone to your common rooms now!"

"We'll talk Saturday, okay?"

She smiles his favourite slight smile. "See you later Diggory."

"Goodnight (y/n)." Cedric smiles the whole way back to the Hufflepuff common room.

"Let me get this straight" Daphne says walking inside the Slytherin common rooms. "Cedric freaking Diggory asked you on a date! And you didn't bother mentioning it to us! For God sakes (y/n)!"

"More importantly what are you gonna wear?" Millicent asks as the three of you sit down on one of the leather couches.

"Hadn't really thought about that." You admit to her. She huffs and playfully rolls her eyes.

"Don't worry we'll find you the perfect date outfit." Daphne reassures you.

"Date?" A low posh voice curiously chuckles. On the couch facing you are the rest of your Slytherin friends. Draco, Theodore and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were there as well but due to their lack of personality, they were more like furniture.

"Yes, Draco. A date. Is that so surprising?"

" With who? Your new friend Potter?" He sneers, obviously jealous of how much time you've been spending with Harry.

"Cedric Diggory." The look on Draco's face was absolutely priceless.

He scoffs. "A Hufflepuff? You could do better"

"I would never be caught dead on a date with a Puff" Pansy says, eager to join the conversation.

"Trust me Pansy, you're not gonna be caught dead on a date with anyone." You answer back.

The boys try to muffle their laughter while the girls spread out leaving no room for her to sit. She sits on the arm rest anyways. The subject of the conversation quickly changes.

"Did you see his glass eye?" Blaise asks you.

"How could she miss it" Millicent laughs " He was staring at her the entire time." Draco seems to stiffen at those words.

"While I was at the Burrow this summer, I overheard Mr.Weasley and Mr.Diggory talking about him and they said he's basically insane."

Draco chokes on his drink.

"YOU SPENT YOUR SUMMER WITH THE WEASELS!?"

"Got a problem with that, Draco?" You ask, arching your brows at him.

"Is it true they sleep in carton boxes, on the ground?" Pansy snickers looking extra proud of her oh-so-witty remark.

"Pansy, I hope you fall down the stairs and break your neck." You say in your sweetest voice.

She finally goes up to her dormitory, defeated.

"Alright goodnight boys. We're going up." You say.

Draco looks like he's about to say something else but you shoot him a I don't wanna hear it glance and walk up the stairs.

At the opposite end of the castle, Harry, Ron, and Neville got into their pajamas and into bed. Someone — a house-elf, no doubt — had placed warming pans between the sheets. It was extremely comfortable, lying there in bed and listening to the storm raging outside.

"I might go in for it, you know," Ron said sleepily through the darkness, "if Fred and George find out how to . . . the tournament . . . you never know, do you?"

"S'pose not. . . ."

Harry rolled over in bed, a series of dazzling new pictures forming in his mind's eye. . . . He had hoodwinked the impartial judge into believing he was seventeen . . . he had become Hogwarts champion . . . he was standing on the grounds, his arms raised in triumph in front of the whole school, all of whom were applauding and screaming . . . he had just won the Triwizard Tournament. . . . (y/n)'s face stood out particularly clearly in the blurred crowd, her face glowing with admiration. . . .

Harry grinned into his pillow, exceptionally glad that Ron couldn't see what he could

[goldenzingy46]

so i found i regulus black as potions master au

...and whilst it’s (unfortunately) anti-snape, it’s also fucking funny.

FIND IT HERE

and if that didn’t convince you, read below for some extracts:

And he goes home to his creepy obsessive mother and says, “Hey mom, guess what, the Dark Lord just tried to off me,” which is debatably true but guaranteed to piss her off, And suddenly the Official Black Viewpoint on Voldemort is that he Needs To Be Dead (which dismays Bellatrix but is actually something of a relief to Narcissa), Unfortunately Sirius is a bit busy being a covert operative for the Order of the Phoenix and doesn’t hear about this, and also he’s still basically disowned on account of being a reckless Gryffindor idiot

But because he’s there, Snape does not manage to get the job, which doesn’t help at all with his ‘everyone is out to get me’ worldview, and then Lily Evans is murdered by Voldemort and everything goes to hell and Snape doesn’t have Dumbledore’s backing and ends up in Azkaban just like everyone always knew he would, the greasy bastard (says everyone who has the time to think about it). Amusingly enough, he ends up across the hall from Sirius Black, who has been tossed unceremoniously in Azkaban for betraying his friends, murdering Peter Pettigrew, and blowing up seventeen Muggles. This has the somewhat unexpected side effect of causing the Dementors to avoid that entire hallway, because there are Absolutely No Happy Thoughts available, on account of Snape and Sirius being so busy hating each other. Like seriously, they basically come up with a schedule: up at seven, bowl of gruel, sneer at each other for two hours, have a screaming fight, bowl of gruel for lunch, three hours of furious glowering, another screaming fight, bowl of gruel for dinner, nasty sniping insults until bedtime. The Dementors have never found two humans so perfectly suited to torture each other before.

Voldemort was wrong and also had created Horcruxes and yeek, dude, those are so evil even the Black Family Library only has one book on them and it’s How To Not Create Horcruxes.

Incidentally, Grimmauld Place has been renovated, because after Regulus’s mother died, he looked around and went, “Wow, this place is creepy as hell. Kreacher! We’re going for a new aesthetic,” and Kreacher went, “Yes, wonderful Master!” and now the whole place is in white and green with silver accents and actually looks like a place you might want to spend time for reasons other than “on the run from the law and haven’t any better choices.” 

He does still end up mixed into the whole mess with the Stone, because this is Harry we’re talking about, but the Trio pretty much figures out the problem is Quirrell from the word ‘go,’ because Professor Black is not sweeping around being Gratuitously Evil all over everything and therefore is not the immediate target of suspicious eleven-year-olds.

Regulus Black hates Lockhart, because no one ought to be more fabulously dressed than Regulus in his own school, you flamboyant fucker, I will out-magnificent you if it’s the last thing I do

Malfoy is still a prat. Some things never change.

Sirius Black breaks out of prison during the summer, for reasons no one can figure out, and the only person to see him go is Severus Snape, who is found laughing hysterically and raving about a black dog, and has therefore clearly been driven mad by Dementors, ah well, no great loss, moving on, nothing to see here. 

If anyone is going to be able to master the Animagus transformation without any training, in Azkaban, for no reason other than Pure Spite (™), it’s going to be Severus Snape. 

Regulus is like, “werewolves are not supposed to be this calm and likeable, I do not even know what is going on, am I friends with a werewolf? I might be friends with a werewolf. Or allies. I can be allies. Allies is a good Slytherin term. We are both on Team Keep Potter Alive Until Voldemort Is Dead.” 

So then Sirius grabs Ron (to get to Peter) and everyone ends up in the Shrieking Shack and there is a lot of shrieking, which includes Sirius yelling “Get behind me, Harry, Regulus is a Death Eater,” and Regulus yelling, “Get behind me, Potter, Sirius is a Death Eater,” and Remus putting both hands over his face and going, “Oh Merlin, two of them, there are two mad Blacks in my life, what even the fuck.”

Unfortunately Sirius is still technically an escaped convict, so he turns back into Snuffles before they get to Hogwarts proper, and Regulus in a moment of Utter Glee (™) is like, “Oh, this is my dog, he’s very devoted to me,” and Sirius has to fawn doggily on his brother. 

Which is actually hilarious, because he walks in for the first time in fifteen years and goes, “Wait, do I have the wrong house?” because everything is light and airy and open and really quite pleasant, and there’s no screaming portraits anywhere, and even the house-elf heads have been relocated to Kreacher’s room. 

So anyway Ireland wins but Krum gets the Snitch and Harry and Ron are having the time of their lives, and honestly Sirius is too because he gets to cadge food from everyone and he gets ear scritches from Remus whenever he wants them and he gets to growl at that supercilious fuck Malfoy whenever he likes. 

Sirius is...not known for his Tactical Planning, and rushes off to Confront the Fake Moody, which honestly goes better than it ought to, because Barty Crouch Jr is not expecting Professor Black’s enormous dog to suddenly turn into Sirius Black and hex him senseless 

When the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Black rips off his own sleeve and screams, “Does my Mark look fucking gone to you, you incompetent asshole?” at the Minister for Magic, and said Lord is also one of the most well-respected Professors at Hogwarts, the Minister’s approval ratings tend to tank. 

Regulus is a Slytherin, he’s supposed to be cunning and sneaky and fly under the radar, he shouldn’t be number two on Voldemort’s hit list, this is frankly embarrassing. Sirius is kind of indignant that his brother is higher up Voldemort’s hit list than he is. Really, Sirius? Remus says. That’s what bothers you about this situation?

And after the third nightmare which is pretty clearly a vision not a nightmare, Sirius goes right down to Regulus and is like, “So Harry is having visions in which he’s seeing through Voldemort’s eyes,” and Regulus is like, “Well fuck, that’s what that Horcrux does.” 

Sirius learned Occlumency from his father, who had a lot of things to keep from his mother, and then later from the Department of Mysteries after he became an Auror. His version has a lot of “setting traps in your mind so your enemies really regret trying this.”

Regulus learned Occlumency from his mother, who had a hell of a lot of things to keep from his father, and then later from being servant to a batshit insane Dark Lord. His version has a lot of “hiding everything important under lots and lots of obfuscating facts and memories.”

Voldemort does try to convince Harry that his godfather is being held in the Department of Mysteries. Since Snuffles is asleep on Harry’s feet at the time, that doesn’t have quite the intended effect.

1) Sirius stops following Harry around as a big black dog and starts following him around as a human

2) ...and then realizes that’s not going to work so well at Hogwarts and goes back to following him around as a dog.

3) Sirius formally takes custody of Harry, his godson, and declares that Harry never has to so much as see a Dursley again

4) Regulus points out that since Sirius is the elder son, this makes Sirius Lord Black

5) Sirius has a fit of the screaming meemies at the thought of politics and formally abdicates the title in favor of his brother, who’s been doing a pretty good job so far

Voldemort spends the summer moving into Malfoy Manor, which the Order of the Phoenix figures out after Sirius gets very drunk and flies his motorcycle to Malfoy Manor in order to “glitterbomb those pretentious wannabe-Blacks.” Glitter apparently does not register as a threat to the Malfoy wards, even when it’s been spelled to be unremovable. Not that glitter really needs to be spelled to be unremovable. Sirius figures out who exactly is in residence when a rainbow-glitter-covered Voldemort comes out of the Manor at speed and tries to hex him off his motorcycle. In retrospect, it wasn’t Sirius’s brightest idea ever, but he did learn where Voldemort was!

Harry’s sixth year is the year that Severus Snape, fuelled entirely by Pure Spite (™), reinvents the Animagus transformation from scratch and escapes from Azkaban as an extremely angry bat.

At this point, Snape is rather dubiously sane, on account of fifteen years in Azkaban, which even if he didn’t have to interact much with the Dementors was fifteen years of either solitary confinement or confinement across from the man he hates worst in all the world. Snape therefore has two driving obsessions right now:

1) Voldemort killed Lily Evans and must therefore die.

2) Snape has to outdo Sirius Black, or die trying.

So about a week after the news that Severus Snape, Death Eater, has escaped Azkaban, Hagrid goes out to open the main doors and discovers a dead Death Eater on the front step of Hogwarts with a neat little note that says, “For Lily.” General consensus is that this is Weird.

The night that Malfoy was supposed to get his Great Duty from Voldemort, which was going to be Killing Albus Dumbledore, was the night Sirius decided to glitterbomb the Manor. And Voldemort, whose Priorities can be skewed by Utter Wrath, decided that Malfoy’s Great Duty was going to be Killing That Fucker Black, How Dare He Disrespect Me, I Want His Head. Malfoy is actually sort of okay with this at first because his hair is covered in shiny red glitter and he looks like an off-brand Weasley, which is Not Acceptable.

So what he does is call Sirius in and say, “Hey, brother, do you want to fake your own death and have an enormous funeral so I can kidnap Cousin Narcissa?” Draco is in the corner trying to figure out when his life took an abrupt left turn into Weirdville, Population Him. Sirius is like, “OMG enormous funeral can I come as a Grim and frighten everyone? Please?” Regulus, who is only the practical one if you ask him, is like, “That is a great idea, it will give me a perfect opportunity to kidnap Cousin Narcissa, truly we are tactical geniuses.” Sirius wants there to be So Much Glitter and is rather put out when Regulus vetoes that plan. Harry, when told about this, decides that Amateur Dramatics on the theme of My Godfather Is Dead And Everything Is Terrible sound like a lot of fun, and wants to be chief mourner at the funeral. Hermione is So Done with all of these people. Remus declares that he will go to the funeral in ashes and sackcloth and rend his clothing dramatically at appropriate points for extra pathos. Hermione is Even More Done and goes off to write to Viktor, who can be relied on to talk about sensible things like spellcrafting and also say nice things about her hair. Albus decides that having Sirius be Officially Dead might actually be a good tactical move in the war, and authorizes the use of Hogwarts grounds for the Epic Funeral, but adds some... tactical revisions to the Kidnapping portion of the show. Minerva joins Hermione in the corner of Done With Everything. Sirius designs his own fake corpse, because of course he does. The Epic Funeral goes off without a hitch, somewhat to everyone’s surprise, and Narcissa is exceedingly surprised to be invited to Post-Funeral Tea by her Cousin Regulus and given a Portkey to a secluded and well-warded villa in France, to be used when necessary. Snape, who watched the whole funeral upside-down in a tree, is Delighted. He has Outlived Black! He has Won! Take that, Black! Voldemort is also Delighted. Tiny Malfoy is just as useful as Larger Malfoy!

Albus looks Wise and Cunning and strokes his beard thoughtfully. Regulus does not say Rude Things about Albus’s overblown sense of the dramatic, mostly because he knows perfectly well he doesn’t have a leg to stand on after the Epic Funeral

Albus hatches a Plan (™)

The first bit of seventh year is actually pretty uneventful, and Harry spends it waiting for the Other Shoe to drop, but the only things that drop are another large handful of dead Death Eaters, who show up on the doorstep every week like clockwork 

The Battle of Hogwarts ensues, Highlights include:

1) Ginny Weasley being cornered by Bellatrix Black and nearly killed, except that a fucking enormous bat interposes itself between them and takes the Killing Curse meant for Ginny, and dies with what everyone swears is a look of utter satisfaction on its face

-Literally no one ever figures out what the fuck was up with that, but the bat is buried in Ottery St Catchpole with full honors

2) Neville Longbottom drawing the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat (delivered courtesy of Fawkes) and beheading Nagini

3) Regulus Black being cornered by about eight furious Death Eaters and being rescued by his brother, who surprises the Death Eaters by appearing abruptly behind them and yelling, “Back from the dead, fuckwits! Eat that!”

4) Remus ends up facing off against Pettigrew, who has a silver hand which is poisoning him to death on account of the lycanthropy and Voldemort being Terrible. Pettigrew ends up dead. Eyewitnesses report he may have thanked Remus for the mercy.

5) Ron, Hermione, and Viktor Krum (a late and rather surprising addition to the Order) being a really quite effective team (“Er-my-own-nee is brain, I am brawn, you can be good looks,” Krum is heard to say. Ron spends the entire battle blushing furiously.)

6) Harry and Albus and Hedwig taking Voldemort on together

It turns out the Power the Dark Lord Knows Not is that of a really pissed off snowy owl doing her damnedest to claw his eyes out, during which rather chaotic interlude it’s surprisingly simple for Harry to trip Voldemort off the main dais. Landing on one’s head on a stone floor is liable to break even the most Dark Lord-y of necks. A whole bunch of historians have despaired of making the Battle of Hogwarts sound properly heroic when the Chosen One just tripped the Dark Lord and he broke his own fool neck by landing wrong.  Nonetheless it’s remarkably effective.

The most interesting thing to happen to Harry for the rest of the year is testifying in front of the entire Wizengamot that his godfather is, in point of fact, Not Dead and that the whole thing was an elaborate act for the purpose of fooling Voldemort.

NOW GO READ IT!!!

[araniaexumae]

when the music dies out (you should still take me home) - chapter 3

EARLIER CHAPTERS UNDER THIS TAG

READ ON AO3

Memories

James knew the dark corridors of the 5th floor like the back of his hand. He’d hidden from Filch in the nook behind Gunhilda de Gorsemoor’s statue countless times, and had once enchanted the tapestry of Arthur’s knights in the eastern wing to sing insults at the Slytherins each time one would walk by. In his fourth year, he’d carefully studied it with his friends for their map. In his seventh year, he’d learned that the dark nook between the statue in the fifth floor’s western wing was a very common snogging spot, and he’d learned it by patrolling there every third night with none other than the lovely Head Girl, Lily Evans. They had even started a bet, counting if they would find more than twenty couples before the winter holidays. Lily had bet against it while James was confident they would reach the number.

“I think I’ve lost count. We were at what, fifteen already? So only five left.” James stated confidently.

Lily shook her head. “Six left. We were at fourteen on Tuesday.”

James put his hand on his chin, scrunching up his face in pretend contemplation. “Hmmm…  Are you sure? I could have sworn it was fifteen. No wait! Sixteen, even! Remus told us about McGrath and Adams this morning. He caught them yesterday.”

“It doesn’t count. We have to catch them together.”, she reminded him, even though both knew fully well that James was aware of the rule. “Stop trying to cheat, it’s not cute.”

“You wound me, Evans. I’m always cute.”

As they were approaching the statue in question, James started walking slowly and gestured to Lily to be quiet, hoping to hear two students in the heat of the action. Unfortunately for him, the corridor was entirely silent. Lily smirked. She turned towards him, walking backwards.

“Well, well Mister Potter, looks like the infamous snogging corner is unfortunately empty today.”

Instead of answering, James grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the old witch’s statue. She let him guide her, leaning against the wall and looking up at him beneath her eyelashes. The young man leaned even closer, putting his hands on either side of her body, caging her in.

“Unfortunately? On the contrary, Evans, I would say it’s very fortunate.”

He leaned in, capturing her lips with his, feeling her sigh against his mouth. Her arms went up to tangle in his dark curls, and his own hands went to her waist, pressing her closer to him.

After a few minutes of glorious kissing, he stood to his full height again, letting his hand drop to hers and guiding her out of the small alcove.

“So, officially fifteen now, huh? You can’t say that we weren’t both here to see that.”

Lily’s mouth opened to form a perfect ‘o’, her green eyes narrowing.

“Unbelievable”, she said, crossing her arms over her uniform. “You’ll regret that, Potter. You’ll see what happens next time you try to kiss me.”

He put his hands on her waist, one finger dipping under the waistband of her pleated skirt. She let out a sigh.

“You know I love a challenge. How about we check right now?”

Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked towards the door to open it. “Thank you again for coming, James. Come back tomorrow at nine with Mr Black. I’ll explain the details then.”

“Will Miss Evans be there?” James made a mental note to observe how Sirius always managed to sound so nonchalant. Right now, he sounded like a boy with a poorly concealed crush.

“She will be.” Dumbledore stayed silent for a while, as if allowing James one more opportunity to back out. But James wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of winning. She didn’t affect him anymore. He wouldn’t let her.

“Great. Goodnight, Sir.” With those last words, he exited the room, shutting the door behind him. He adjusted his glasses and collar before walking out of the building and outside of the anti-apparition wards’ effect.

He had one night to get ready to face her again. Thank Merlin tonight was Pixies night. He could use a firewhiskey or two.

“Europe? I knew there must have been secret missions the old man wasn’t telling us about.” Sirius grumbled, staring at his almost empty glass. It’d taken James almost a full pint to tell his friends about this afternoon’s meeting.

“Of course there are, Dumbledore’s always been a man of secrets. I wonder where she was in Europe.” Remus pondered.

“France, maybe. I’ve got a lot of pretentious relatives there.” Sirius suggested.

“I think I heard Moody mention something about Austria once.” Peter added.

“Can we get back to the important part, please?” James cut in, gesturing wildly with his hands. “The ‘Evans being back’ part?”

His brother raised his eyebrows. “I thought we weren’t allowed to mention her name anymore.”

“Well it’s going to be hard not saying her name when I’m bloody working with her, don’t you think?” James rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands.

“Can’t you tell Dumbledore you don’t want to?” Peter asked, before trying to take a gulp of his drink and realizing he’d finished it already.

“Too late. He asked me already and I said it was fine.” James muttered.

“Why did you do that?” Peter questioned.

“Because he’s an idiot, that’s why.” Sirius answered in his stead. James let his head fall to the table, his hands around it.

“She really did a number on you, didn’t she, Prongs?” Peter asked.

“I think we can all remember that, Wormy”, Remus said, putting one hand on James’ shoulder.

Sirius gave a short, cynical laugh. “That’s one way of putting it. I thought our Prongs would finish the school year in the dorms.”

“Let’s not twist the knife, okay?” Remus suggested. He got up. “How about a second glass?”

James had been avoiding her all day, ever since her sudden ‘we should talk’ in the Great Hall that morning. He’d dashed off to class, claiming he had a question for Flitwick and he skipped lunch, stating he needed to go over the quidditch training schedule when everyone knew everything was meticulously planned since the summer break. However, he couldn’t find excuses all day and she’d finally cornered him in the library after classes, where he’d been hiding successfully for an hour. She sat down in front of him.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find you in here alone.”

“This essay is really kicking my arse, if I don’t finish it today I never will.” He responded. “Did you do it already? Why am I even asking? Of course you did. Did you mention phoenix tears? I’m not sure it’s not off topic.” He rambled on, not looking up from the paragraph he’d read three times since he’d noticed her approaching.

“James.” He looked at her and wished he hadn’t. She was biting on the inside of her cheek, her eyes imploring him to listen. He put down his quill.

“Can we go somewhere private?” She asked. He recalled the last time she’d asked that, an inviting blush on her cheeks, her tone a lot more teasing.

He looked around for any student that might be present. “Is this not private enough? There’s no one here.”

“I’d rather talk in the heads office if that’s all right with you.” She answered, her voice small. It felt wrong. He thought Lily Evans should never be thought of as small.

“Sure.” He gathered his things, piling them on the table and taking them in his arms, balancing it all carefully so as not to let his quill or his ink bottle fall. Once again, he regretted not taking his bag.

They exited the library and walked in silence to their shared office. James knew what the situation looked like, but he didn’t want to believe it. There was no reason for Lily to be mad at him. Just last week, they’d gone on a wonderful date in Hogsmeade, just the two of them. Had he forgotten some kind of anniversary? He was racking his brain to find what it could be, to no avail.

They reached the door and Lily whispered the password, letting him go in first. He did, turning around towards her as soon as she was in the room with him.

He tried putting on a suave tone. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

Lily shook her head sadly. “Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

He tried to take her hands in his but she took a step back. He kept his hands in the air, feeling like he shouldn’t move anymore.

“It’s over, James.”

[ladyanatui]

The Seduction of Motomiya Daisuke, Ch. 6 *A Daiken Fic*

Daisuke’s friendship with Ken has always come easily. It’s the lusting after your best friend part that’s hard.

He just didn’t realize how hard until Ken starts acting weird.

Now, Daisuke isn’t sure how long he can handle his BFF and roommate’s sudden attentions. At least, not without potentially ruining a 12-year friendship.

AO3 | FF.Net

Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17

DAISUKE

Saturday, 2 a.m.

"Aaaahh…"

My eyes ache, but I force them open and eye the digital clock on the kitchen counter.

Fuck, it's only been an hour since I last looked at the time. Haven't done more than doze for the last few hours. Didn't even bother going to bed.

"Mmmmm…no, no…"

But Ken's having a nightmare, and even miserable and half-dead, I can't let him suffer. At least not alone.

I move on autopilot, staggering down the hallway, hand clutching the wall for support.

Ken's trembling when I crawl into his bed. Only when I wrap him in my arms and pull him tight against me, his face buried in my chest, do the spasms start to settle.

"Shhhh," I murmur, running my fingers through his silky hair, then down his back in slow deliberate motions. "It's okay now."

He shivers in my arms and presses closer.

I pull back enough to wipe away a couple tears glistening on his cheek and frown at how pink and puffy his eyes are—a sure sign he cried himself to sleep a few hours ago.

My eyes clamp shut; my jaw clenches. "I'm sorry." I'm not sure what exactly I fucked up and I know he's too out of it to hear the apology, but I'm sorry. "I never meant to make you cry."

I take a long breath and tuck his head under my chin. "Everything's okay, I promise. I'll make sure of it." My fingers rub circles down his back until his breathing evens out.

After that, I can finally relax.

*

Saturday, 7 a.m.

Thump, thump, thump…

A heart throbs deep through my ribs, and it takes a long moment to register it isn't mine. Admittedly, my heart beats to the same rhythm, so it's an easy mistake to make.

I inhale deeply and rub the sleep from my eyes. The world smells like jasmine and rose and sandalwood, and I would know that combination anywhere.

My eyes flash open.

Ken's head rests on my chest, an ear to my heart, his hand under my shirt, fingers grazing my ribs. His body clings to my side, one leg slung over mine.

I hold him tighter, enjoying the unabashed closeness. On the few nights we've shared a bed in the past, Ken has always been pressed firmly against the wall in the morning, as far out of reach as possible. If I woke up every morning with Ken snuggled up to me, I'm pretty sure I could die happy.

For now, nothing will prevent me from enjoying this moment.

My stomach grumbles.

Ugh, I guess I do require food. As much as I want to, I can't stay in bed forever.

Besides, who knows what kind of mood Ken will be in when he wakes up. He probably doesn't even know I'm here, and based on last night, I doubt he'd be too pleased to find me in his bed.

I close my eyes one last time, enjoying a final moment of cuddling before this has to end. Before I have to go back to the reality of being best friends and nothing more.

He releases a deep sigh—

And I take that as my cue to leave before he wakes up.

It takes some skillful maneuvers and finesse—meaning I fall on my ass and nearly drag the sheets and Ken down with me—before I can slip from the bedroom, and after a quick stop in the bathroom, I study the contents of our fridge and pantry.

Maybe if I make breakfast, he'll be in a better mood. He always likes it when I cook breakfast.

I turn on the radio and bounce around the kitchen, gathering ingredients. I start the rice and throw some chicken stock in a pot while chopping up the nori and tofu, then toss the nori in the simmering stock.

There's no sound from Ken's bedroom—odd in itself since he's usually up by now, even on the weekends—but when AKB48's latest single comes on, I twist the knob hard and dance around the kitchen, no longer concerned about the noise.

I shuffle from side to side while whipping together the egg, soy sauce, and mirin, then move on to prep the miso.

The steps and movements are simple, easy, memorized, and my eyes dart across the peninsula to where the living room is still a mess from last night.

Well, as messy as Ken ever allows it. Such a neat freak.

I frown as I study the vacant living room. The table is pushed to the side and the television is still pulled out to the middle of the room for easy viewing.

Honestly, I don't know what the hell happened last night. Or really any of yesterday. Why was Ken acting so weird? He kept switching from strangely, openly affectionate to more distant than normal, and I don't know how I'm supposed to make heads or tails of that.

Don't get me wrong, the guy can be moody as fuck, but yesterday was a special case. I just don't know why.

I slide the tofu and green onions into the broth and stir it together before leaving it to cook more, pausing by the counter.

My mouth tightens into a firm purse.

Something doesn't sit right. Like there's something obvious and important I'm missing, but I can't put my finger on it.

I heave a sigh and turn back to the food.

If it's important, I'll figure it out eventually.

The rice is done now, and I spoon it into bowls and stir in the egg mixture, then leave it to thicken. The miso soup should be about done too.

I pause to study the countertop, then begin to put away all the ingredients.

You know what's funny?

Last night, during that stupid movie neither of us paid attention to after the midway point, I used judo skills he taught me to get out of that painfully awkward mounted position, but Ken didn't use any grappling moves on me once. He definitely could have.

Judo was one of the few activities he continued after he was no longer the Kaiser. Yeah, he had to work his skill level back up to where it had been under the influence of the Dark Seed, but he did—or at least pretty damn close. And once he regained his confidence, he added jiu jitsu to his many talents.

What little I know is from watching all his matches like the amazing friend I am and from us goofing off. I kept getting pissed off when he won our every wrestling game, so he took it upon himself to teach me some throws and escapes. I managed to win a few after that, though I'm still convinced he was just stroking my ego.

His skill is far beyond my level, and we're both well aware of that fact. He could have escaped that mount easily, even with his hands pinned.

Wait.

That means he chose not to. Did he want me to hold him down like that, to straddle him? Why?

Unease settles in my stomach.

Because I can only come up with one reason:

He wanted me to kiss him.

I fan myself, suddenly overheated from working at the stove.

Okay, yeah, if that's not what he wanted, kissing him would've been a huge, awkward, embarrassing mess, but if it is…fuck, I missed a perfectly good opportunity to kiss Ken and I should be kicking myself.

I've liked him so long I stopped considering any of this possible. The idea that childhood celebrity Ichijouji Ken, even if he's been my best friend for years, could reciprocate my feelings is laughable.

But I don't feel like laughing anymore.

I close my eyes, hands clenched, and struggle to breathe.

"Motomi—"

I jump, suddenly grateful my hands are clamped on the counter's edge instead of holding any of the food.

Behind me, he hesitates, then says, "Daisuke, why is the music so loud?"

I turn my attention to the radio instead of Ken and move over to turn it down. At some point, the station switched songs, probably a few times, but I was far too inside my own head to notice.

"Sorry," I say when it's quieter, finally glancing over my shoulder.

On the opposite side of the peninsula, Ken leans against a nearby wall, heavy eyes watching me, his black hair mussed up on one side in a way that screams nothing short of fucking adorable. Or you know, adorably fuckable. Thankfully, he doesn't look angry or upset, but I'm not taking any chances.

I clear my throat and slide two bowls toward him. "I made breakfast."

He eyes them carefully, then scoots closer to examine the contents: one bowl of miso soup and one of tamago kake gohan. "Thank you," he murmurs, not meeting my gaze, but he accepts the chopsticks and soup spoon with a soft smile and sits on the stool there. He looks oddly peaceful.

I stay in the kitchen while I eat, keeping the distance between us.

For a while, we eat in silence, both picking at the food. Ken always eats slowly, especially in the morning, but I still can't quiet my mind—all I can think are the words kiss and Ken over and over. God, if I keep this up, my brain is going to explode.

Ken takes a quiet spoonful of his miso, then assesses me with freakishly piercing eyes. "You alright, Motomiya? You look shaken."

My reaction is somewhere between shrugging and shaking my head. Yeah, that's real fucking convincing.

But he doesn't push the matter. "Are you still going to show me how to cook today?"

I pause mid-bite, having completely forgotten. "Uh, yeah, sure. We need to go shopping then."

He nods and offers me one of those perfectly sweet Ken smiles that's made me think I'm having a heart attack on multiple occasions.

There aren't many people who earn that particular smile, and like always, I'm honored and pleased to be one of the select few. But unlike every other time, my brain is now going to spend the next twenty minutes dissecting what exactly that smile means.

[petri808]

Links in a Chain

AU story, Canon divergence.  7-part short story, 1 part per prompt day.  Each of them came from different backgrounds, but there was something that tied their lives together and, in the end, they learn how family meant much more than just by blood.

@thedragonsweek2019   Part 6- Day 6 Old Gen/New GEn

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

This one is longer 

“Hey gramps,” Hak points at the faded scroll painting hanging on the wall, “do you know what that’s from, even Yona had no idea about it.”

“It’s a cool painting,” adds Yoon, “it like one of those fairy tale fantasy stories or something.”

Mundok walks over, “ah the Legend of the Five Dragons, it’s an old tale that supposedly took place over two thousand years ago here in Kouka.  I’m surprised you kids didn’t learn about it in history class.”  Taking the painting off the wall.  “Tell ya what, were almost done packing up this house, so when we get home, I’ll tell you guys the tale.”

It took them about a week to pack everything up, and six strapping young men sure made the move a lot quicker.  Mundok made sure that anything of real value or sentiment was kept for Yona in the future, but he had made the difficult decision as executor to sell her family home and for her to move in with them instead.  She understood, a house was just a house, but being with a family unit meant more.  Mundok’s home was already bursting at the seams but in a couple of months a new room would be finished and until then she could stay in Hak’s room.  

Once the final moving process was complete and they are hanging out after dinner, Mundok pulls out the scroll, laying it out on the table.  “You guys ready to hear the story?”  The group nods, some leaning forward, others relaxing back in their chairs.  “Kija, you sure you can stay longer for this?”

“Yeah, I told them I’d be staying through dinner.”

Mundok sits back and crosses his arms, “Over two thousand years ago this place we now call Kouka was nothing more than a land filled with warring tribes consumed with taking control and ruling over the peoples.  There was much bloodshed and chaos.  From the heavens the Hiryuu dragon watched all of these events unfolding and it began to break his heart because he loved humans and wanted there to be peace.  So, against the wishes of the other dragons he descended and took human form, even forgoing his powers to do what he could. Unfortunately, he was eventually caught and just before he was to be executed, the Hakuryuu, Seiryuu, Ryokuryuu, and Ouryuu dragons stepped in.  They didn’t want to see their beloved friend die so they made deals with four warriors to take their blood and a part of their powers on condition to protect Hiryuu for all time.”

He takes a drink of water before continuing.  “With the four dragon warriors at his side, Hiryuu was able to sweep through the lands and finally after many hard-won battles, united the peoples into one and Kouka was born. So, what do you guys think so far? Crazy or maybe it really happened?”

Hak scoffs, “these were probably just skilled warriors that the people called divine because they couldn’t explain how they were so good at what they did.”

“That could be true,” the old man nods, “it is often a human trait to attach such supernatural powers to those that seem inhuman.”

“Well I think it’s still cool to learn about the past,” Yoon smiles, “please continue gramps.”

Mundok grins, “I shall describe these dragons first starting with King Hiryuu.  They say he had purple eyes that shone bright with kindness and a personality to match, and yet his wavy red hair was seen as a raging inferno to his enemies ready to burn them to the ground…”  Suddenly the room fell silent as all head turned to young Yona.  

“Whoa!” Zeno sits straight up in his chair, “you match the guy in the story Yona!”

“…Hakuryuu was physically strong with the power to crush his foes with his bare hands.  But his hair was softer, like the white snows from the mountains and eyes as blue as a glacier’s ice reflecting the sky….”  Now all eyes switched to Kija.

“…Seiryuu’s powers were the most dangerous of all for he could prey on people’s minds and drive them crazy.  One look from his serpentine yellow eyes and the last thing they may remember is his blue hair swaying in the breeze…”  By this point, the coincidences were starting to become quite eerie and Shin-ah shrank in his chair from the extra attention.  

“…Ryokuryuu,” Mundok chuckles, “they say he was quite a character always sarcastic but very caring. He loved keeping his green hair up in a pony tail and legend has it his purple eyes were fond with the ladies…”  

Jae-ha smirks and crosses his arms, “sound like a charmer to me.”

“…And finally, Ouryuu, the yellow dragon warrior with golden hair and a sunny disposition.  He was beloved by his fellow warriors and Hiryuu for he kept their spirits up even under the harshest of times.”

Unable to take the similarities anymore, “oh, this is some crap,” Hak waves an arm at the others in a fit, “how come they get to look like some ancient warriors of heaven! Did you just make it all up?”  

Yona places a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “it’s just a coincidence Hak, you don’t need to get so upset over it.”

“Yeah it’s just a story,” Yoon chimes in, “I ain’t in it either but I’m not mad.  You can see 5 characters on the scroll too.”

But of course, the jokester of the group couldn’t stay quiet.  “Awww, poor Hak.  Maybe you’re the Prince who sweeps in and steals one of Hiryuu’s daughters,” Jae-ha grins and gestures at Yona.  “We can call you the black dragon, since you’re always so moody.”

Mundok shifts in his seat expecting a fight to break out between the two boys.  But Hak’s face switches from anger to contemplation.  Bringing a hand up to rub his chin, “I kinda like that… black…. Maybe the darkness dragon,” turning and smirking at Yona, “yeah… the one who wins the Princess’s heart.”  Groan erupt around the table while poor Yona is turning bright red.    

“Okay, okay,” Mundok cuts in, “so basically, after uniting the kingdom, peace reigns, everyone lives happily ever after, the end.”

“Wait that’s it?” Kija questions.

“Well considering there wasn’t anything of significance to happen since then, what else is there to tell?” Mundok counters.  “The rest seems even more farfetched.”

“We’re listening,” Hak retorts.

“Okay fine, they say that the warriors had lived on, that their blood would be passed down along the generations and that one day a reincarnation of Hiryuu would bring them together once more.”

“Tch,” Hak leans in, “old man what do you think this is?”  Gesturing around him, “reincarnation,” he points at Yona, “four warriors,” he points at the other boys, “you think this is a farfetched?”

[elenatria]

Chris in Sakaarland: Chapter 6

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839114/chapters/34390026

The following day Chris didn’t ask Taika how he had spent his birthday. He didn’t ask about Jemaine’s sudden appearance. He didn’t even ask him if he was feeling better. He thought all that was irrelevant to his work and if Taika had something to say, well, he’d say it. After all Chris was too tired to care about anything. He had spent the whole night staring at the ceiling.

Taika didn’t bring it up either. Chris thought he should confront him at some point, surely Jemaine had already told him they had bumped into each other in Taika’s front yard the night before but if Taika did know, he seemed to be outrageously calm.

Or just indifferent, Chris thought fiddling with Tessa’s sword.

“Will you stop playing with that dildo?” Taika woke him from his dark thoughts.

“What?...”

“I said, will you stop playing with that dildoooooo,” Taika yelled cupping his hands around his mouth and leaned back on Valkyrie’s comet chair. “Your ADHD is exhausting, bro.”

The set they were working on that day looked like a huge doll house painted green and white and filled with colourful bottles (Valkyrie’s inexhaustible alcohol stash), with its fourth wall missing as if waiting for a gigantic kid to play with his toys. The sarcasm of the situation didn’t escape Chris - the kid was right there with them, a “big kid” indeed, and looking at his own red cape and shiny green epaulettes he suddenly realized how much he looked like a toy. A blown up action figure, a puppet, ready to be played with and tossed away as soon as the kid got bored of him.

A lapdog.

 Chris flinched remembering Taylor’s words.

 But wasn’t that always the case with Taika?

A chronic case of boredom.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why he didn’t just direct his actors like any normal director would do; he would befriend them, win their trust, make them fall in love with him and do everything he wanted - and all that “for the sole purpose of controlling them”. Those were his exact words.

Taika liked to call that honesty.

Chris called it cynicism.

He understood now how cruel that method was, cold and calculating, as he relived every moment he had spent with his director through the eyes of an insecure control freak who got under his actor’s skin and into his bed only to collaborate better with him, to get a better performance.

Or just to get another ego trip.

This was just a game after all and Chris had made it all too easy for him, hadn’t he.  

 He put the Dragonfang back on the table next to some bottles and a bowl of grapes.

“You distracted today, Chris?” Taika murmured raising a concerned brow as he flipped a page of the script. “You said ‘Mark’ instead of ‘Banner’ twice.”

The pencil with the pineapple topper was in his hands once again, scratching under his lip. Chris remembered how stressed, insecure and obsessed Taika looked chewing on all those pens and pencils while he struggled for days to stay away from him, trying to persuade himself to never touch his gorgeous leading man again. Whenever he fell asleep on Taika, exhausted after having spent the whole evening finding new ways to make him orgasm as Taika moaned in delightful pain and ecstasy, whenever he saw his beautiful Māori name glimmer on the phone, those chewed pens, scattered all over the floor, would come back to him like a fond memory, like a tiny detail from the early days of their relationship that reminded him how tormented Taika had felt about keeping this up, this sweet sinful thing, this… secret. Chris used to feel so proud of those chewed pens.

But now he knew the real reason behind Taika’s guilt, the reason why he tried to stay away from him after the first time they made love in Chris’ trailer, the reason why there were all those chewed pens scattered all over the floor.

It was Jemaine.

How ironic this was. There was not a single trace of biting on the pineapple pencil because Taika was calm as a breeze, his immaculate white shirt with the blue tie reflecting his mood and sending a very clear message: life was simple. He had achieved what he wanted. He had fucked his protagonist in every possible position, in every possible way, and he knew very well he was settled in Chris’ thoughts for as long as he wanted, as long as the filming lasted. As long as it was necessary.

There was nothing left to do; mission accomplished. Life was as simple and uncomplicated as a blue tie on a white shirt.

Taika spoke again but Chris didn’t hear him - all he could think of was smashing that smug and calm pineapple pencil to pieces.

“Yes I’m good, I’m good,” he answered after a few seconds swiping a hand across his beard as he avoided Taika’s eyes. He glanced at the big grey chest on the other side of Valkyrie’s apartment, a dozen chains all over it.

“Where’s Tom?”

“Oh I’m sure he’ll come,” Taika reassured him hastily turning another page. “We don’t need him anyway.”

“What did you say?...”

Taika blinked idly at Chris’ unexpected reaction. “I said we might not need him today. We’re doing your close-ups. You know, Thor’s childhood memory.” He got up as Mark, Chris and Tessa gathered round him for some spontaneous brainstorming on what the scene should be like, and he asked Chris what he thought of the idea of Thor talking about Loki’s prank when they were kids.

“Yeah, I think it’s awesome, let’s do it,” Chris said clapping his hands impatiently.

“I didn’t ask you if it’s awesome, I know it’s awesome, it’s my idea,” Taika quipped with his usual cockiness. “I asked what you think Loki should turn into before stabbing Thor.”

“What?... Oh. Right. Well, he could turn into a frog, right?”

“Naaah, we’ve already talked about that during the play scene in Asgard. Anything else?”

“A pigeon?”

Taika wiggled his nose, undecided. “Not funny enough. Think, Chris, think.”  

Chris felt his cheeks flushing. “A flat tire? A piano? A safe? A submarine? What, Taika, what?” he snapped raising his voice with each word, agitated. “Tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it, I’ll fucking say it, just decide, okay?”

Taika furrowed his brow. “Whoa. Are we in a mood today,” he muttered with a scornful look as he sat down on the grey chest where Loki’s place should be.

Tom’s place.

“No, I’m cool,” Chris said rubbing his brow, regretting every word. “It’s just that I had a rough night, mate, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again. Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.”

Taika considered him for a while as he scratched his chin with the pineapple pencil thoughtfully before returning to his notes, shrugging. “I could give you a massage later today if I’m not too busy.”

Chris glared at him, wondering if that was yet another invitation for casual sex or if Taika was just trying to get rid of him and his “headache” because he was just too busy to care.

Too busy filming, too busy with Jemaine waiting on him back at his house by the sea; right now he was probably preparing dinner for two or something.

Judging by Taika’s indifferent absent-minded tone, Chris decided it was the latter.

“It’s ok, Taika,” he growled through his teeth and turned his back on him. “Wouldn’t want to keep you from your work...”

 ***

 It was finally lunch break. Chris hurried out of the set before anyone else and entered the cafeteria with plenty of empty tables to choose from. He chose the one at the far end of the room, the most isolated one.

He had never coveted lunch break like he did now. It wasn’t the food itself, he was still on a diet eating chicken, brown rice and broccoli, sometimes switching to vegan with beans and veggie burgers. He just wanted this day to be over and stay as far away from people as possible. Everyone said his performance was flawless, his improvisation hilarious, but isn’t that what friends and colleagues always told him?

Apart from Taika of course. Taika was relentless.

Chris could always tell when someone was sucking up to him and he’d make them stop right away, but he could also tell when his performance wasn’t perfect, when friends were just pulling their punches for him just because he was in a mood. It didn’t happen often but when it did, he felt terrible. And what he did today for the cameras… it just wasn’t enough.

He heard a tray being dragged next to his and lifted his heavy forehead from his clenched fist.

“Moody today, bro?”

Taika’s slender figure slid next to him on the bench, an amiable tight-lipped grin spreading from ear to ear, if not a little forced.

And fake.

Chris went back to his meal, torturing a piece of broccoli with his fork. If he could slice it to any smaller particles than he already had, soon that cafeteria would witness a nuclear fission.  “Nah, just tired. Sorry for earlier,” he said grumpily.

“Not a prob.”

Chris turned to Taika. He knew the director was there to stay so he might as well start the conversation himself. “Did you have that on this morning?” he said nodding at Taika’s red shirt with the white flowers.

“No,” Taika shrugged. “Different mood, different outfit.”

“Huh. So what does that shirt say about you now?’

“Nothing. Just in a good mood. Nice things are happening, the filming is going well,” he said rubbing his thighs with enthusiasm. “Can’t say the same about your mood though.”

So that’s how it was going to be, Chris thought. Even if he was reluctant to confront Taika about the previous night Taika wasn’t giving him a choice. Maybe he wasn’t as thick-skinned as Chris thought, sensing the hostility on set and wanting to do something about it. Or maybe he just couldn’t have his leading man pouting and scowling all day, it was counter-productive and it sure didn’t look good on camera. “Time to be a director” and all that.

Taika was willing to be his friend, his lover, his therapist – and it was all part of the filming process.

Chris sighed and let go of his fork; splitting the broccoli’s atom would have to wait.

“Look, mate, I think we should take a break for a while,” he said letting out a deep breath, dreading Taika’s reaction.

“Take a break from what?”

Chris glared up at him. He was starting to wonder if Taika was there to talk things out or piss him off even further.

“From… this,” he said moving his finger nervously back and forth, pointing at them both.

Taika jerked his head back with his big brown eyes open wide, startled at Chris’ words. “What do you mean take a break? Why?”

He really wanted to push it, didn’t he.

“Well I mean… it’s not going anywhere, is it?” Chris slurred.

That was not what he meant to say. He wanted to talk about the bespectacled man with the sideburns and the gap-toothed smile that he had seen in Taika’s yard the previous night.

Even thinking about his name hurt.

Taika burst into laughter shoving away his tray to avoid landing face first into his Bolognese. He just sat there laughing for a while, squeezing his eyes, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, his crazy giggling making quite a few heads turn.

“Where exactly do you want ‘this’ to go, Chris? The altar? Moving in together? A… flatting situation?”

Taika was quoting “What we do in the shadows” now, that’s how funny this situation was to him. And it was driving Chris insane.

“Alright. Forget it. Forget I ever mentioned it.”

He got up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Taika said grabbing his wrist.

He looked up at Chris and his eyes were dark and piercing. He wasn’t giggly anymore. It was as if every single giggle had been squeezed out of him.

Chris averted his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, biting his lip in an effort to not say another word. Words would do more harm than good right now.

But Taika was determined to not let it go. “Hey, man, look into my eyes,” he urged him. “LOOK INTO MY EYES, CHRIS.”

Chris shook his head slowly struggling to be polite but his smile looked more like a wince. “I’m not in the mood, Taika.” He didn’t know how much longer he could stay calm.

“I don’t care what you are. I said look into my eyes,” Taika said firmly, squeezing Chris’ wrist even harder.

Then he let go. With a heavy heart Chris turned to look at him.

“Are you… falling in love with me?...” Taika said, a trace of fear turning his voice into a doubtful squeak.

Chris felt his stomach twisting into a knot. That wasn’t the kind of sweet doubt that comes out of the lips of a lover too insecure to believe he had finally found true love. It was the jaded surprise of someone who had been too honest all his life to let anyone misjudge his intentions. And Chris knew that. He wanted to forgive him but he remembered it wasn’t just his fault if they were having this conversation now. It was also Taika’s with all his lies about meeting Jemaine the previous night, the on-and-off life-long partner who was probably done making dinner for two and was calling Taika to see how he was, if Chris could judge by the buzzing that was coming from Taika’s pocket.

“Will you answer that?” he said agitated trying to change the subject.

“Not unless you answer yours,” Taika replied pointing at Chris pocket. His phone was buzzing too but Chris was too angry to notice.  

“Answer the call, Taika, you never know who might be calling you. Might be a matter of life and death,” he said sarcastically. “Might be your ‘father.’”

“YOU answer the call, Chris. Between the two of us you’re the one who should worry about his… well, his loved ones. And you’re just not answering that call. Pick up the goddamn phone!”

He seemed pretty concerned now but Chris had no idea what he was talking about. Probably evading as usual.

“I’m – I’m not answering the fucking call,” Chris said moving back and forth, undecided on whether he should listen to Taika or walk away, or just punch him in the face. “And stop repeating what I say, this is not about me.”

Taika took his phone out of the pocket to see who it was but didn’t let Chris see the name on the screen.

“Man, you desperately need that massage session,” Taika murmured, already distracted by his phone. “Too bad I can’t accommodate you today.���

“Fuck off, Taika,” Chris spat and walked out of the cafeteria, rushing by Mark and Tessa who wanted to invite him to their table, ignoring the persistent buzzing in his pocket.

Until it went silent again.  

[seasonofthegeek]

Sea Kitten

Today’s drabble was commissioned for a Kwami Swap AU with Adrien and Marinette by the lovely @catbeastaisha. Thanks, sweets!

Jynx studied her claws as she knocked the heels of her boots against the brick facade, legs swung over the side of the roof. “Have you ever asked your kwami to change your suit?”

Luckbug grinned at her. “You don’t think I look stunning in spots, Kitten?”

She laughed. “Stunning and humble.”

“I’m very humble,” he nodded solemnly. “It’s hard to be the best but I try.”

Jynx rolled her eyes. “So you’re happy with your suit?”

“Well,” Luckbug stuck out his leg and flexed his foot. “I guess I wouldn’t mind actual boots. Sometimes I feel like I’m wearing footie pajamas.”

“You look like it too,” she teased.

“Rude. And, uh, maybe I would ask for a little more coverage.”

“What do you mean? You’re practically covered head to toe.”

He looked at his lap and Jynx’s eyes followed his. Luckbug quickly crossed his legs and cleared his throat. 

“Right,” she nodded, flushing. “Coverage. Got it.”

“The red is just so bright.”

“Like a bullseye.”

He covered his face. “Stop.”

“Sorry.”

He nudged her shoulder with his. “What are you wanting to change? Please don’t say the ears, tail, or bell because I would be heartbroken. Or the suit in general because you are definitely the most beautiful kitten I’ve ever seen,” he smirked.

“Seen a lot of beautiful kittens, have you, Bug?” she drawled. “Actually I was going to say my claws but now that you mention it...”

“I would just Lucky Charm it all back,” he winked, reaching for her hand. He pressed the pad of his gloved finger against the tip of a claw. “You don’t like them?”

“They just feel...dangerous, maybe? I’m not exactly the most graceful person.” She watched as her partner continued to press his fingers against her claws and swallowed thickly. “And maybe if they were retractable? Like if I needed them, I could call them out or something?”

“Not a bad idea,” he murmured, attention still on her claws. “You’ve just now stopped showing up with little scratches on your face. But I have to say I think I would miss them.”

She looked at him. “Really?”

Luckbug shrugged. “I don’t know. They seem like a part of you, but if Plagg can change them and it would make you more comfortable, I say go for it.”

Jynx nodded and tried to stamp down the feeling of disappointment when her partner took his hand from hers. “I’ll ask. He can be a little stubborn sometimes.”

“Tell me about it. Tikki is always trying to lead me in the ‘right’ direction,” he sighed. “I know she means well but sometimes it feels like I can’t win with her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, well, I’ve told you my dad is kinda overprotective, right?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“So I have to sneak out to ever do anything. And Tikki wants me to sneak out for this kinda stuff but then she gives me a hard time about sneaking out other times, but sometimes I just need to get away. And being Luckbug, I can.”

She laughed. “You wanna switch? Plagg has woken me up in the middle of the night to see if I wanted to get out for a bit. It has to be on his terms though. Anytime I want to go out and it wasn’t his idea, there’s so much complaining.”

“Well, he is a cat, right?” Luckbug grinned. “That’s kinda the whole deal.”

“True. And it has been nice. I’ve never had a pet because they aren’t allowed in...” She trailed off awkwardly. “Uh, the place I live. But having a kwami is kind of like a pet, huh?”

“I’ve never had one either,” he admitted. “But yeah, it seems like it. You’re right. It is nice. I like having someone to talk to.” 

There it was. That loneliness that would peek out from behind his mask every once in the while. She never pressed, though she was beyond curious what his home life was like. He never said anything too alarming, but his comments weren’t entirely reassuring either. She wondered how much of his luck from the Ladybug Miraculous helped in his situation. She felt like the Black Cat Miraculous had only managed to worsen her clumsiness and timing.

Jynx stood and stretched. “I should go. I have homework.”

“You don’t want to stay out for a little longer?” Luckbug asked hopefully, green eyes shining in the red mask.

“You look like Christmas,” she blurted out.

He blinked and Jynx gasped softly, quickly covering her mouth as pink splashed across her cheeks. A slow grin appeared on Luckbug’s face. “Christmas, Kitten? Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t you dare try to be smooth, you stink bug. I didn’t mean to say that!” Jynx stomped, her tail lashing behind her.

“I never knew you were paying so much attention to my colors,” he preened, standing. 

“Stop it,” she groaned. “It was an accident.”

“You remind me of the ocean.”

She paused her embarrassed wiggle. “What?”

“Your eyes. WIth the blue and green and then the black of your suit and your dark hair. You’re like the ocean.”

“I’m not the ocean,” she scoffed, feeling unsteady. “How ridiculous.”

“Moody like the ocean too.”

“Just because I said the dumb Christmas thing, doesn’t mean you have to do a bit, you know. It was just an slip of the tongue. I saw red and green and thought Christmas and there was instant regret.”

He took her hand, bowing deeply and kissing it. “Until we see each other again, my Sea Kitten.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she grumbled.

He shot her a wink and unhooked her baton, handing it to her. “Be careful going home.” He gave her a warm smile and she felt that strangle bubbling in her stomach that had been happening far too often around her partner recently.

“You too,” she smiled.

AU Challenge Prompt List

Buy me a coffee?

[theflyleaffamily]

Round 1:

As a long time Flyleaf fan, I do prefer the more slower and mellow songs, so I chose The Wedding over I’m Sorry, no problem.

Platonic over Something I Can Never have, Kristen’s witchy vocals and last extended “Knives” totally wins.

Home over the Christmas Song. The Christmas Song is good, but I only ever listen to that song during December, and Home is just the best ending song for the album.

Saving Grace over Call You Out (Live). Call You Out (Live) off of Who We Are didn’t really showcase Kristen’s powerful vocals, when there are so many other songs they could have put on the EP.

Freedom is one of my favorite songs, so it was easy to pick it over Fire Fire (Live).

City Kids is good, but I prefer All Around Me (Acoustic) over it.

In the Dark over Supernatural. I always felt that Supernatural was one of the more weaker Flyleaf songs.

Uncle Bobby is so underrated, so it definitely beats Cassie (Demo).

Well of Lies over Justice & Mercy (Violent Love Version). Well of Lies is right up there with Freedom in terms of one of my favorites.

Break Your Knees over I’m Sorry (Demo). Again, I’m Sorry isn’t a favorite.

It was so hard to choose between The Hunted and Red Sam!!! I love The Hunted, it is one of Flyleaf’s most heaviest songs! But Red Sam has a lot more meaning in my life, so I went with that.

Marionette over Pride (In The Name Of Love). It’s just a U2 cover anyway.

The Kind over Fully Alive (Acoustic) Music As A Weapon version.

Stand, most definitely, over Arise (Ben Moody Mix). Arise (Ben Moody Mix) is one of Flyleaf’s worst song, I totally despise it. They ruined a perfect song by remixing it.

Fire Fire over Broken Wings (Live). Sameer’s backing vocals is just *chef’s kiss*

I was so tempted to choose Blue Roses but I went with I’m So Sick (Acoustic) instead.

Set Apart This Dream over O Holy Night. As much as I love Christmas music, I do like original songs more.

I was almost gonna go with Red Sam (Demo) but I chose Circle instead.

Okay over Sober Serenade, which was my least favorite song off Between The Stars.

Enemy over the Fully Alive (Demo) version.

Tied to the Broken, even though it is just Demo, is absolutely my favorite Flyleaf song, or even Just one of my favorite songs ever. So it easily beat Fully Alive (Acoustic)

As much as I love What’s This, Bury Your Heart wins.

Tiny Heart is easily one of the weakest songs in all of Memento Mori, so Tina easily wins.

Magnetic wins, over Light In Your Eyes. I have so many good memories of singing on stage with Flyleaf during that song.

Great Love (Live) wins over Stay. Again, just another U2 cover, though wonderfully done. This song should have been on The Who We Are EP, instead of Call You Out, and not just on the extended version of the EP.

Although I do love Ship of Fools, because I saw Flyleaf play it at the recording studio, I have to choose Red Sam (Acoustic). It’s really just because of James and the tambourine.

Thread (Alive in Texas) definitely wins over Great Love. Lacey is wonderful, but Kristen and the guys outdo themselves with that song. This version of the song should have been the official song on the full length album, and not just a special edition version.

Melting (Interlude) isn’t even a song, so Supernatural (Acoustic) wins.

Traitor, as hard as it is, isn’t as hard as I would like it to be, so Dear My Closest Friend wins.

Who Am I wins over Cage on the Ground (Live). I actually like the deluxe edition songs off Memento Mori a lot.

As great as City Kids (Live) is, nothing can beat So I Thought. Lacey and Ryan’s duet is phenomenal.

Green Heart is literally the heaviest song Flyleaf has done, so it easily beats I’m So Sick T-Virus version.

It was hard to choose between Justice And Mercy and Swept Away. But i went with Swept Away because it was one of my favorite songs off Memento Mori.

Mama is good, with Lori Mosley singing along, but I believe Believe In Dreams is just a little bit better.

Bittersweet over Sorrow (Live).

Avalanche almost won, but I went with Cassie (Acoustic). It is just a powerful song, wonderfully changed from the original.

Cage On The Ground over It Came Upon A Midnight Clear. The last Christmas song, finally.

Treasure is really good, but I relate more to Much Like Falling. A short but powerful song that helped me get through difficult times.

Head Under Water over Amy Says. As a piano player myself, I was so happy that the keys were prominently featured on a Flyleaf song.

I’m So Sick (Demo) is even better than the album version, so it pretty much beats Have We Lost.

Every Flyleaf Song Single Elimination Tournament!

Which song will come out victorious? From which era, and from which album or EP? Which Flyleaf song is your ultimate favorite?

Thank you so much to @dailysturm for the graphic design!

Links to each song listed below:

The Wedding

I’m Sorry

Platonic

Something I Can Never Have

Home

Christmas Song

Saving Grace

Call You Out (Live)

Freedom

Fire Fire (Live)

City Kids

All Around Me (Acoustic)

In The Dark

Supernatural

Uncle Bobby

Cassie (Demo)

Well Of Lies

Justice & Mercy (Violent Love Version)

Break Your Knees

I’m Sorry (Demo)

All Around Me

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Sorrow

Missing

Set Me On Fire

This Close

Tied To The Broken (Demo)

Fully Alive (Acoustic)

Bury Your Heart

What’s This?

Tiny Heart

Tina

Magnetic

Light In Your Eyes

Stay

Great Love (Live)

Ship of Fools

Red Sam (Acoustic)

Great Love

Thread (Alive In Texas)

Melting (Interlude)

Supernatural (Acoustic)

Traitor

Dear My Closest Friend

Who Am I

Cage On The Ground (Live)

I’m So Sick

Call You Out

Thread (The Mr. Kane Churko Mix)

Chasm

Beautiful Bride

Perfect

The Hunted

Red Sam

Marionette

Pride (In The Name Of Love)

The Kind

Fully Alive (Acoustic) - Music As A Weapon

Stand

Arise (Ben Moody Mix)

Fire Fire

Broken Wings (Live)

Blue Roses

I’m So Sick (Acoustic)

Set Apart This Dream

O Holy Night

Circle

Red Sam (Demo)

Sober Serenade

Okay

Enemy

Fully Alive (Demo)

Fully Alive

How He Loves

Breathe Today (Demo)

New Horizons

Breathe Today

Broken Wings

City Kids (Live)

So I Thought

Green Heart

I’m So Sick (T-Virus Remix)

Swept Away

Justice And Mercy

Mama

Believe In Dreams

Bittersweet

Sorrow (Live)

Avalanche

Cassie (Acoustic)

Cage On The Ground

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear

Treasure

Much Like Falling

Head Under Water

Amy Says

Have We Lost

I’m So Sick (Demo)

Again

There For You

Something Better

Arise

Thread

Cassie

[pillarsofdamnation]

Otayuri Fic Rec List

I came for the Victuuri, but several of my favorites had a side pairing I wasn’t expecting to enjoy so much: Otabek Altin and Yuri Plisetsky. I’ve seen some of the wank on the otayuri tag, so if you don’t like, don’t read.

I love long fics (>10,000 word count) and have this insane need to keep track of the ones I really enjoy. Here are both competed works and WIPs that I am following they are all complete now. 

UPDATED: January 27, 2018 (Based on fics I was reading in May 2017)

Guys, there are 16 fics here. I now have another 30 to add, but this post is getting too long. I will work on this in the weeks to come!

For this list “canon” are typically set post S1, “au” is a completely different universe and "au - canon divergent” is an au where one or both are still competitive figure skaters. 

I. Completed works

A cat in a corner by AphroditeB00w [E, 82,800 word count, complete although not marked done yet)]

(au, mafia, violence, slow burn, assassin/enforcer!Yuri, Part 2 of Shadow People) "You don't own me." Yuri spat at the stone-faced man across from him. "No," Altin agreed mildly, adjusting the cuff of his suit. "But you are owned."Yuri Plisetsky is a reluctant underling in Yaakov's organization in mother Russia. But everything starts shifting and stirring up when he starts working with Otabek Altin, the informant for the criminal gods. His once slumbering sexuality is shocked awake, and the careful facade covering his hate for Yaakov is cracked when he learns that Viktor is not dead after all.

A Heart Beats At Night by magicalyoyo [T, 154,000 word count]

(au, vampire!Yuri, werewolf!Otabek, elements of canon, angst, Victor/Yuuri side pairing) A lone figure ran along the sidewalk. Otabek would have mistaken him for a motivated jogger, if not for the sinewy, fluid movements and familiar figure. He jerked his bike over, skidding to a halt in front of the runner.

Otabek’s heart was pounding a sickening, dizzying rhythm, but he schooled his face into stoicism as he pulled his helmet off to get a better look.

“Yuri Plisetsky died two years ago,” he growled. “What the hell are you?”

a silver splendour, a flame by thehandsingsweapon [M, 113,200 word count]*** Main pairing Yuuri/Viktor with Otabek/Yuri is a significant side pairing

(au, angst, mcd (with qualifiers), fantasy, slow burn, magic) Fantasy AU. When a magic user’s craft fully matures it manifests in the form of a spirit guardian. Mages and elves bearing these familiars spend a year presenting them to each of the high courts throughout the year’s festivals. Both Viktor and Yuuri have their reasons for hiding the full extent of their gifts ��� Viktor’s been hurt before, when his own powers were used against him; Yuuri’s been warned that everyone will want his; what will happen when Yuri comes of age, and in doing so, makes two very bright stars finally cross?

A Stiller Doom by Tessa on Ice [E, 68,400 word count]***

(abo, angst, social justice, violence, abo, au-canon divergent) “It is in vain ot say human beings out to be satisfied with traquility: they must have aciton and they will make it if they cannot find it. Millions are condemned to a stiller doom than mine, and millions are in silent revolt against their lot. Nobody knows how many rebellions ferment in the masses of life which people earth.” - Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre.  NOTE: fic is currently unavailable due to an AO3 issue, but will hopefully be back. Really enjoyed this one. A lot of political drama. 

Adventures in Personal Growth (verse) by stutter [E, 23,700 word count for series)

(canon, pining, dom/sub elements, rough sex, read the tags) "When Victor was his age - younger, even, Yuri thinks, shame blooming in his chest - he’d made the whole world fall in love with him already. The long hair, the soft smile, the way he moved like he had a secret in his skin and he couldn't wait to share it with you. Yuri’s watched the tapes over and over. He could skate any of Victor’s early routines in his sleep. But he can't - the thing Victor could do so easily, the casual, guileless charisma he threw like a shadow - Yuri can't manage it on a single person, not even some moody Kazakh with a dumb haircut whose eyes are too far apart anyway - "(In Park Guell, Yuri takes a hard fall. Otabek picks him up.)

All the Right Notes by pastelplisetsky [T, 42,800 word count]

(au, music, slow burn, fluff) Yuri Plisetsky is an incredibly gifted piano player, known for his passionate and somewhat violent playing/compositions. But in order to compete in the famous Eurasia United competition (completely fictional), he needs a violin accompanist. Although he’s dreamed about this competition for years, he’s always worked better alone. Until a little-known, solemn, lovely violinist walks into his life. Inspired by Yuri’s Allegro Appassionato in B Minor, his free skate song.

the birth of comets takes place on the tip of your lashes by apollothyme [T, 16,600 word count]***

(au - canon divergent, angst, hurt comfort, blindness, friends to lovers) His second visit to an ophthalmologist occurs five months later. Just like during his first consultation, he doesn’t understand any of the medical jargon coming from the doctor’s mouth. Only now, after he’s done explaining everything in complicated, convulsed words, the man turns to Yuri with a smile on his face and explains everything once more, this time using terms Yuri can understand. Yuri listens. He bites down on his bottom lip and he does not cry.

Endurance and Peach Tea by chapstickaddict [T, 11,500 word count]

(canon, pining, slow burn, fluffy fluff) Yuri hummed. His body didn’t uncurl, but instead of pressing his face into the fold of his legs, he rested it on his crossed forearms. Tilting his face towards Otabek, he looked for the bronze metal. The colorful ribbon snuck into the folds of his jacket, hiding his prize from view. Yuri reached out, and Otabek let him pull the ribbon to bring the metal into the light.It was beautiful. Heavy and ornate, with the front masterfully detailed. The perfect symbol of success. Yuri flipped it over, admiring Otabek’s name carved along the back. Wait.“Did they spell your name wrong?” he demanded, straightening. Otabek made a noise beside him.

It takes three years for Yuri to figure himself out and get his head on right. He drags everyone along for the ride. Otabek is the only one to go willingly.

From Almaty, With Love by BoxWineConfessions [E, 115,900 word count]

(canon, pining, slow build, slice of life, part 1 of series) It’s quiet here. Even if the car alarm on the neighbor’s goddamn BMW has been going off for the past twenty minutes. Quiet, even though the alarm’s got the neighbor’s dog howling like crazy, and the neighbor works second shift and isn’t there to comfort the dumb dog. It’s quiet…They haven’t spoken to each other since that morning, when Yuri went off to go see his tutor, and Otabek went off to do whatever the hell it was he did in the mornings before he hit the rink. “You’re used to the noise?”“Yeah, but…I think I like the quiet too.” Or: Yuri spends the summer with Otabek in Almaty.

Half a Chance by ratherunneccessary [M, 55,900 word count]

(canon, angst, fluff, slow burn) Yuri has never cared about anything as much as he cares about skating. Until, one day, that changes. Or, Viktor falls in love with Yuuri, Yuuri falls in love with Viktor, Yuri falls in love with Yuuri, Otabek falls in love with Yuri, and somehow everything turns out okay.

I Will Not Break by kanekki [E, 39,000 word count] series Accuse Me Thus [E, 121,400 word count in 3 part series]

(canon, divergent after S1, DARK, rape/noncon, depression, anxiety, references self harm, references suicide, child abuse, part 1 of a series) Yuri has been supporting his family with his skating since he was a teenager, but now they are barely making it. How long will he be able to hold it together before everything falls apart? Series summary: After his gold medal win at the Grand Prix Finals, Yuri Plisetsky’s life completely falls apart. With the help of his boyfriend and skating friends, Yuri tries to pull himself back together.

in flesh and bone by csoru [M, 32,100 word count]

(canon, angst, long distance relationship, pining, hurt comfort) After recovering from an injury that cut his previous season short, Yuri makes a comeback with a new coach, a new country of residence, and a relationship upgrade. Still: perfection takes effort.

In spite of the world by Stone_Heart [E, 100,100 word count]

(au, fairy!Yuri, soldier!Otabek, domestic, hurt/comfort, war, slow burn, bonded) There was a shuffling from above him, loud banging noises as it came closer. Otabek braced himself. This person helped him. But… A pale face peered over the stairs, looking at him. He blinked back. Those eyes… bright green and ferocious. Those eyes were what he looked for on a battlefield. Not the scared eyes of a peasant or the pudgy eyes of a spoiled king. No, those were the eyes of a soldier.

Neon Pink Motorcycle by goldheart [M, 74,700 word count]

(au - canon divergent, angst, soulmate/soulmark, pining, slow burn, past child abuse) There are certain moments in Yuri Plisetsky’s life that he likes to forget happened at all. The time they were chased from the apartment, the landlord angrily spitting and waving threateningly at them when his mother couldn’t produce enough money for rent. Babushka’s funeral. The first time he fell in competition.He cannot forget that, under the black band he wears around his wrist like a shield, his soulmark may as well be nonexistent.

You’ll Live Without It by HyperionHero [E, 24,400 word count]

(canon, angst, fluff, pining) "Yuri smirks, thumbing the material of Otabek's hoodie underneath his team Russia jacket. When he catches himself smiling he blushes and pulls his hand back to his phone. It's fine, he tells himself. Friends totally wear each other's clothes..."Yuri Plisetsky is surrounded by love. It's like a sickness, claiming his friends, his rivals, the attention of everyone he knows. He avoids it at all costs... but what Yuri doesn't know is that love has a knack of sneaking up on people. Sometimes it brews for years, right under your nose, and you don't notice it until it's staring you in the face - taking the form of a stoic Kazakhstani man bound in leather.

Unsteady by otayui_oh_nice [E, 140,000 word count]***

(au, rockstar!Yuri, DJ!Otabek, abusive family, mostly fluff with some angst, Slow burn, tattoos) Otabek was going to kill JJ. He was going to take the next flight to Canada, hunt him down and kick his ass. Leo: I tried to stop him but he went and did it anyway, I’m sorry! (link)- Or: JJ uploads one of Otabek's remixes of Yuri's songs to YouTube and Otabek freaks out.- Or: what happens when you take episode 1, replace figure skaters with musicians and exchange Victuuri for Otayuri. Aka another strange AU no one asked for.

[omgrachwrites]

Somewhere Across The Ocean (Tom Holland)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Original Character

Summary: Cassidy Porter has always had a hard time being herself, especially in front of her friends. She can truly be herself when she starts online talking with a sweet boy, Tom. But when he unknowingly walks into her real life it’s his heart that might be getting broken. Author!Tom, college au

Warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst, slow burn

Words: 1877

A/N: So sorry for how long I took to put this up, also I was thinking that I’m going to alternate chapters each week so next week it’ll be the next part of my librarian Bucky series, I promise that the extra gif is relevant, lol! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all very much! xxx

Part Three

Wednesday 13th September 2018

Butterflies swarmed in Cass’s stomach as she watched Tom approach the coffee counter, he came in every Thursday and Friday since Harrison had started a couple of months ago. Seeing Tom was one of the things in particular she liked about working in the coffee shop, he was a great guy and a great friend. It really perked her up to see him, she’d been exhausted since school had started up, she didn’t realise how emotionally – and financially – draining being a college student was.

She hadn’t been in the greatest of moods due to how tired she was and also, the online Tom that she was speaking to also hadn’t emailed her since he told her that he was going on a date. It wasn’t like she was jealous or something, she didn’t even know him but she missed him. Tom’s baby brown eyes were red and bloodshot with exhaustion though his bright beaming smile never once faltered.

“Tom, hey,” Cass grinned as he got to the counter, a small snide voice in the back of her head told her that he was only here to see Haz, “Harrison’s in the stockroom, let me go and get him for you,” she blurted out quickly and made to walk off before Tom stopped her by holding his hand up.

“Actually Cass, I came here to see you, I can see Haz any old time. I live with the guy,” he blushed a bright pink, thankfully Cass was already wearing makeup on the apples of her cheeks so that hid her blush pretty well, “could I just get my usual please?” Tom chuckled, breaking the slightly embarrassed silence and Cass quickly snapped herself out of it.

“O-of course,” she muttered quietly, ducking her head slightly as she got to brewing his drink, “so, how are things with you Tom?”

Tom grimaced before running his long fingers through his thick gorgeous curls before he replied in a monotone voice, “I had this date the other night, it was a complete disaster.”

Cass had at least expected a small bubble of jealousy to arise in the pit of her stomach at the mention of his date but she felt nothing. Tom was completely gorgeous but she’d turn away from him if she knew that he was interested in her, that was just her way. She giggled as she traced a winky face into Tom’s drink with the steamed milk, every time that he came in she drew a different pattern for him.

“Why was it so bad if you don’t mind me asking?” Cass frowned as she handed over Tom’s drink and took his money.

Tom sighed, “well, I met the girl in my lectures and she must have seen me with Harrison because on the date she was always talking about him and asking about him, it’s okay though.”

“That sucks Tom,” Cass pouted and he shrugged.

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” he paused, continuing when Cass gave him the nod, “I know that we’re doing completely different majors but I was um actually wondering if you’d like to study sometime? I could definitely use someone to study with even if its not the same subject,” he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Cass giggled at his flushed cheeks and decided to play with him a little, she was pretending to think about it. It was obvious that he was waiting with bated breath.

“Of course Tom!” she grinned at him when he let out a sigh of relief, “but can we do it in the library? I definitely don’t have any motivation when I’m studying in the comfort of my own home, how does later on sound? I finish at half two.”

“Later on sounds perfect Cass, I’ll meet you at the library then,” he beamed and made to leave before Cass called him back.

“I’ll study with you if you let me take you to a frat party, I haven’t seen you at the parties that I’ve been to and I’ve been to a lot of parties,” Cass giggled as Tom let out a dramatic sigh.

“Fine, fine if I absolutely must,” he held up his hands in mock defense before he winked and finger gunned at her, leaving the coffee shop.

When Cass finished work she sent off a text to Tom telling him that she was going to get changed and drop her stuff off at her apartment. She walked into the building and shot the moody guy on reception a winning smile although he stayed stone faced, his lips didn’t even twitch the tiniest bit.

“Don’t look so happy Porter, your roommate has just moved in, you haven’t got the apartment all to yourself anymore,” ‘well, obviously,’ Cass felt like saying but she refrained and gave him a tight smile instead as she took off up the stairs and unlocked the apartment door.

A beautiful young woman was perched on the edge of the sofa, scrolling through her phone, she looked up when the door opened and her chocolate brown eyes softened with a smile and she stood up, holding her hand out.

“Hey, I’m Zendaya, sorry that I’m a little late,” she giggled, her laugh was contagious, it made Cass smile as she shook Zendaya’s hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m Cassidy but you can call me Cass.”

“It’s great to meet you too Cass, I’m actually headed out to get some lunch if you would like to join me?” she smiled.

“I’d love to, I really would but I promised my friend that I’d study with him, can we take a raincheck?”

“Of course,” Zendaya beamed, “have a good day and good luck with the studying.”

“Thank you,” Cass smiled, “you have a good day as well.” Zendaya grinned at her before she left the apartment and Cass got ready, pulling her hair out of it’s messy bun. She also sent an email to the online Tom just to ask how he was though she wasn’t expecting a reply.

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

Tom grinned as he saw Cass getting closer to him, she looked so pretty with her hair loose and wavy with her sunglasses perched ontop of her head, wearing a sea foam green dress.

“Hey, you look great,” he beamed as he pulled her into a hug, she smelled amazing, like cherries and vanilla.

“Thank you! So do you,” she giggled and they walked into the campus library together.

Tom at once saw that it was busy, busier than it should have been on a Wednesday afternoon when nothing was going on. 90% of the crowd were college girls and Tom even thought that he saw a couple of Professors that conducted lectures at the university. Tom glanced at Cass to ask her what was going on but he cut himself off when he saw that she was biting her lip, her cheeks were flushed and her pretty hazel eyes were glazed over.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” she said in a breathy voice that suggested that she didn’t forget at all.

“What did you forget?” Tom inquired, deciding to play along. Cass looked at him like she was only just remembering that he was there and perhaps she did only just remember.

“There’s this guy called Chris who works here every Monday and Wednesday and he’s one of the most attractive guys that I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” she spoke vaguely, keeping her eyes at the front desk of the library, “come on, let’s go and find a table.”

Tom felt a stab of jealousy at how breathy her voice sounded and to torture himself even more he snuck a glance at the desk where this Chris was sitting. Even Tom thought that he was a very handsome man, he had dark hair and a thick layer of stubble along his chin and he was wearing a green sweater. Cass pretty much swooned when Chris saw her and waved at her, Tom rolled his eyes as they got to a table.

“He looks like a stupid bearded, sweater wearing, dumb dork,” Tom knew that he was using a lot of adjectives but now wasn’t the time to be grammatically correct.

“He really is,” Cass sighed happily, chewing on her bottom lip as they sat down at the table and got their study materials out.

“It wasn’t a compliment but go off I guess,” Tom shook his head with a sigh.

In no time at all they were studying in silence, side by side, Tom was completing an essay and Cass was drawing. Every now and then she’d sneak a peek at Chris and when she did it was like no one else or nothing else mattered. When she was drawing, Tom got to get a good look at her and even daydream about her a little. She was the reason why he was okay with his date going wrong because Cass was one of the most beautiful girls that he’d ever seen. His favourite part about her was her hazel eyes that were framed with long, thick eyelashes. Tom really wanted to ask her a question that he thought he already knew the answer to but he decided that there was no harm in asking.

“You got a boyfriend Cass?” he asked as casually as he could, not missing the way she quickly raised her head and fixed him with an surprised look. After a moment her features relaxed and she smiled at him.

“Nope, I don’t do the whole boyfriend thing, obviously I’ve had boyfriends in the past and I get crushes on people all the time.  But having a boyfriend is a pretty hard thing to have when you don’t believe in love.”

The silence between them was so deafening that if a pin was dropped it would sound like a heavy explosion, how could someone as beautiful as her not believe in love? Tom was more than a little disappointed, “you um, you don’t believe in love?”

Cass shook her head with a little shrug and went back to pencilling her sketch, “I’ve never had it.”

“What about your dad? He loves you doesn’t he?”

“That’s a different kind of love, my dad has to love me and besides, I feel like my dad had no choice, like I was dumped on him or something,” she said this so nonchalantly that it actually alarmed Tom a little bit, he wanted to ask her what she meant but he didn’t want to pry. Also, if she wanted him to know she would have told him.

“I’m sure your dad loves you so much, I’ve seen how much he adores you when he comes into the coffee shop sometimes. What about your mum?”

Cass’s casual mood switched almost instantly, she dropped her pencil and looked up at him, Tom’s heartbeat sped up when he saw that her eyes were glassy, “that’s a story for another time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, thank you for asking though,” Cass’s smile was so genuine that it hurt Tom to know that she didn’t believe in love, she was so sweet.

Tom was going to help her believe, no matter what it took.

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

 @void-imaginations @mutuallynotmutual @marvelellie

[ellayuki]

25.02.’17

family trips, kimonos and kitten children who love their dads

yuri!!! on ice, yuuri pov, (implied) victuri, (maybe vaguely hinted at) otayuri

victor orders some custom made kimono, victuri are basically yuri’s dads and yuri is so their child and doesn’t even bother denying it if asked, there’s a two-week vacation in hasetsu where even otabek is invited, a festival and lots of family fluff.

(i literally wrote the last last part of this chapter while listening to the duet on repeat. as one does.)  

part 2 (part 1 here), (ao3)

~

the next day, yuri is loud and excited.

he goes through the photos from the previous day with yuuko's triplets, an enormous smile on his face, and showing off the goldfish he caught. yuuri wonders what his face will do when he sees today's outfit. he has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

the day passes by pretty fast, between boisterous children (and “children”) who want to post every little thing to social media, some skating (because it’s them and they can’t help themselves) at the ice castle where yuuri and victor manage to rope yuri and otabek into trying some lifts and spins with them, and a nice, long, relaxing soak in the onsen.

before any of them know it, it’s almost evening, and yuuri can honestly say that he’d be okay with it if they were to decide not to go to the festival, because the day has been wonderful enough so far.

but then victor comes back from where he’d went to his room, this time still dressed comfortably in his usual green jinbei (because it’s too early yet) and carrying four packages.

yuuri sits up straighter. even axel, lutz and loop quiet down, curious, but with their cameras at the ready. yuri looks like he’s trying really hard not to show his curiosity.

victor puts all four on the table, spreading them out carefully, like they’re precious cargo (and they are), before picking one up and setting it down in front of yuuri.

yuuri pulls it close but doesn't open it yet. he knows what's inside, has a decent idea of what it looks like, though not an exact one, and he'd rather first pay attention to the others. victor seems to understand, because he doesn't urge him to open it, just picks up two of the remaining three and drops them in yuri and otabek's laps.

yuuri hopes the triplets caught their startled faces properly.

'n-now what? what's this? wha-' yuri stutters, clearly not having expected anything more after yesterday. his fingers fumble over the ties, hurrying to unwrap, disbelief and wonder and eager anticipation clear in his every movement.

the reds and blacks of the kimono and the dark green of the obi look refined, gorgeous, and yuri's lower lips trembles before he bites down on it.

'do you like it?' yuuri asks, and yuri nods almost numbly, unable to say a word. he can’t stop looking at it, he can’t stop touching it.

they turn to otabek then, who has kept quiet so far, his earlier surprise replaced by a soft, fond look directed at yuri. his hand on the younger boy's shoulder is gentle, but tethering like an anchor.

he's not quite as shocked as yuri, but he is surprised, the bashful smile on his face, the mindful way he handles the material, and the soft, grateful 'thank you.' as he looks it over speaking volumes of how much he had not expected to be included in this, and how touched he is by the gesture.

before any of them know what's happening, yuri pushes his bundle into otabek's arms with a ‘beka, hold my kimono’ and stands up, stomping his way to the side of the low table where yuuri and victor are sitting together.

‘yurio?’ yuuri barely has time to say, only just managing to catch a glimpse of teary eyes and red cheeks, before yuri swoops down and furiously hugs him and victor. both at the same time and hard enough to bruise.

it’s over in a matter of moments, and then he’s gone, back by otabek’s side.

the room is left in stunned silence. only loop’s camera shutter can be heard. if yuuri’s shoulder didn’t ache from the harsh embrace, he’d think he’d imagined the whole thing.

before anyone can say a word, yuri’s a flurry of movement again. he’s picked up his bundle from otabek’s arms and he’s dragging yuuri by the arm, shouting over his shoulder.

‘come on, katsudon, help me get dressed.’ and then, louder, ‘yuuko, i’m going to need your help with my hair when i’m done.’

yuuko smiles at him, though he can’t see it, and agrees. then she corrals her daughters, keeping them from sneaking after them. the internet does not need half naked photos of yuri plisetsky. yuuri, as always, is thankful for his friend’s amazing everything.

he almost falls over when yuri abruptly stops, steps back into the room and yells for otabek.

‘oi, otabek, you better come, too. victor’s probably shit at tying these things, you might as well have katsudon do it.’

yuuri can’t help laughing a bit at his fiancé’s affronted ‘hey!’ as he is once again dragged along.

~

the kimonos are even more exquisite than the sketches made them seem and a lot softer to the touch.

yuuri’s and victor’s have gold threads that give them a glimmering look in the flickering lights of the festival.

that aside, victor’s burgundy one is rather simple, lighter around his shoulders, becoming shades deeper, darker further down his body, becoming almost black near the bottom hem. the golden obi makes the simple yet elegant ensemble look regal, and yuuri can’t help thinking it’s only fitting.

yuuri’s own is dark indigo, the colorful, sequined design on the back of his costume  carefully, if more elaborately stitched on the back. yuuri thinks he’s never worn something so precious (in every sense of the word) in his entire life. he makes a mental note to thank victor properly after they come back to the inn.

~

the second evening of festivities is no less fun than the first.

yuri challenges each of them to whatever games catch his eyes and interest, for once more carefree than yuuri has ever seen him, even after he’d one his grand prix finals’ gold. he doesn’t know more than a couple of words in japanese (not that anyone expects him to), so where he can’t get by on his english, he asks yuuri for help (actually asks, not demands passive-aggressively).

otabek is more relaxed than yuuri thought he’d be, clearly enjoying himself, and not getting overwhelmed. when yuuri asks, he tells him that it’s actually not the first such festival he attends, having visited japan a couple of times before.

they talk for a while, about their experience training in countries other than their own, as they walk behind victor and yuri who bicker in rapid-fire russian about something or other.

at one point, yuri decides he’s had enough of walking with the “gross lovebirds” and drags otabek away, going in the direction of a booth that yuuri remembers had a tiger almost as big as yuri as prize for some game.

‘it’s good that he finally has someone he’s willing to call a friend, don’t you think?’ victor asks from beside him, voice fond, eyes fonder, and yuuri leans his head against his shoulder, still looking towards the teenagers walking unhurriedly and talking happily.

‘yes.’ he agrees, because it is.

the blues and whites of otabek’s kimono paint a nice contrast to the reds and blacks of yuri’s, and yuuri privately thinks that they’d look like a couple if he didn’t know any better (wonders if victor made them to match on purpose).

he does know better, though, because yuri’s too focused on his career right now, and maybe a bit too young and too full of himself to think of such things, especially when he wants to take the world by storm, and besides, a first, real connection with someone doesn’t always end up in such relationships.

still, they look cute, they seem to understand each other, and they’re supportive of each other. if they have that, if they respect each other, no matter what their relationship’s like, then it’s okay. they’re still growing and they have all the time in the world.

~

by the end of evening, they’re all sitting together on a grassy hill, surrounded by people and waiting for the fireworks to start.

yuuri is leaning against victor’s chest, holding a cup of still warm tea in one hand and petting makkachin with the other, listening to his fiancé reminiscing about a festival he went to once, as a young teenager.  

next to them, yuri is sitting with the stuffed tiger otabek won for him in his lap, hugging it to his chest like it’s the most precious thing he owns, talking excitedly with his friend. otabek, for his part, while he looks as subdued as he always does, also looks like he’s right where he wants to be, smiling gently at yuri’s exuberance.

the grin on yuri’s face is too adorable for a usually moody sixteen year old, yuuri can’t help thinking. it seems being able to unwind, to have fun and be around people he cares about (whether he admits to it or not), away from the pressure of skating and training and having to win, is good for him.

yuuri wonders if they could make this sort of holiday a regular thing. he’ll have to talk to victor about it sometime, though he’s sure he will agree. it’s the kind of thing victor would love.

when the fireworks finally start, yuuri looks around at his small group, each one enjoying the beautiful, colorful display, and feels like his heart is going to burst with warmth.

it feels so much like family, like a family he’s made for himself, and the happiness the thought brings him has him glowing inside.

he revises his earlier mental note. he has to properly thank victor later, not only for the wonderful kimonos, but for being him, for taking yuuri’s drunken ramblings to heart and deciding to become his coach, and for not letting yuuri go when yuuri was being anxious and self-doubting and stupid.

yuuri has never been so content, so happy in his life than in this moment, and he can’t help looking forward to whatever the future holds.

he buries himself deeper in victor’s embrace and fiddles with the ring on his finger, watching the fireworks light up the night sky. he smiles quietly to himself, one thought crossing his mind.

‘well now, there’s just one more thing that needs to be done.’

[wolfnoise]

holy shit hello!

Finally! I’m going to explain a little bit about my new things I’ve been working on. Here are 3 out of several many characters for my new project! 

Welcome to “Nightingville”!  A story about a small town that is home to a species of winged people called Nightingales. Their designs consist of owl shaped wings, with night-sky colored wings that have the zodiac star sign they were born under marked on them. Ye.

Here we have my three beloved pieces of shit. Please, allow me to go into detail about each of them:

Name: Shetland “Sheltie” Mackey  (He/Him) Age: 24 Birthday: Wing Sign (Constellation) : Virgo (left wing) Nationality: Irish (Irisih Accent) Hair: Orange-Red Eyes: Grass Green Ht: 5′8″ Personality: Kind-hearted, Polite, Shy in crowds, Protective of friends, Logical, Hard-working. Likes: Sevani, Forest Activities, Riding Bikes, Winter, Warm drinks, Cleanliness, Drawing, Interior Design, Adorable Rodents (his pet dwarf hamster, Jeremiah) Dislikes: Baine, Lightning, Rudeness from anyone, Attention, Being flustered, Heat, Feeling useless, When people are mad at him, Being angry, Ladybugs or any bugs that smell bad. ~~Sheltie was raised by an Irish Nightingale couple. He was the only person who Sevani really clicked with as a child, so they have been best friends ever since (they live with each other in an apartment). He seems very timid at times, but he can stand up for himself and others in a heartbeat. Is the sweetest birdo.

Name: Baine Brakken (He/Him) Age: 26 Birthday: Wing Sign (Constellation) : Leo (covers both wings) Nationality:  Hair: Cocoa Brown w/ White fade Eyes: Icey Blue Ht: 6′1″ Personality: An Ass, Just an ass, Loves to have too much fun, Okay with being an annoyance, Arrogant,  Creative, Social, Humorous. Likes: Pranking Sevani, Being an ass, Using his wings always, Attention, Touching, Baseball, Anything sugary, Taking things that are not his. Dislikes: Being blamed for things, Feeling lonely, Being bored, Sitting still for too long, Being bossed around, Water/being submerged into water. ~~Baine, often just called Brakken by people he’s close to, is a trickster with very little filter. He says things that make him sound like an ass. 95% of the time his ass holery is intentional. He especially likes to mess with Sevani. He seems to never run out of energy. He’s constantly looking for validation from his superiors (I’ll introduce the cool older better birdos later). He. Is. VERY. Touchy feeling. Hence why he’s poking Sevani in this picture (it’s also cuz he knows they hate being touched so)

Name: Sevani Ita (He/They/Them) Age: 23 Birthday: Wing Sign (Constellation) : Cancer (right wing) Nationality: Ukrainian  Hair: Dark Brown Eyes: Slightly Lighter Dark Brown Ht: 5′5″ Personality: Judgmental, Stubborn, Blunt, Always has a hateful look, Can be Hateful, Clings to people she is comfortable with or likes, Aloof, Moody, Dark Humor, Adventurous, Introvert, Easily Jealous.  Likes: .Being in charge of things, Sleep, Winning, Being right, Cooking, Receiving strange gifts, Sheltie, Den (another character who they cling to), Cats.  Dislikes:  Baine, Being touched, Crowds, Having to do things they don’t want to, Training, New people who want to be friends with their friends, Pre-teens, Reading boring things, Watching boring things.  ~~Sevani was born in the Ukraine Nightingville (there’s a Nightingville for a lot of countries). But because of a human raid on the city, They were taken over seas and raised by one of the more elite (older) Nightingale men (his name is Timothy and he’s great). Though they were rather distance and awkward, Sevani learned how to make friends, although they are still weary around humans. Sevani loves Sheltie, and shows this with passive aggression. They constantly cling to Den (another fella who Sevani first started trusting). Sevani hates Baine and his shenanigans towards them. They get him back though...twice as hard. 

There will be more explanation about this story pretty soon, as well as new characters!! There’s a lot more to learn about our little feathered friends here....so much more ;3.

[chromacomaphoto]

Picasso, Breasts, Bangkok...What Can Photographers Around the World Learn from the Master Painters?

A good few years ago now in Thailand, I went back to full time education. I have to confess that the use of the word ‘back’ is a falsification of sorts that I have become accustomed to slipping into this sentence with alarming ease and comfort. We all do it, that little white lie that has fallen out of your mouth in relation to a given topic to save personal embarrassment so often that you actually somehow believe it to be true yourself. This implies that I was somehow there in the first place (in adulthood at least, this isn’t entirely true). Actually what really happened was that I enjoyed a wonderful period in my life being a ‘mature student’. Although a charming euphemism for ‘older person who amounted to very little in their youth’ I must confess to since having grown a tad fond of this term. I think that for many people such as myself for whom regular school just was never going to work out back then, there comes a real satisfaction in learning about the arts (in my case) at a later station in life. If you can handle the level of self-discipline, newfound time management skills and motivate yourself towards full-time study alongside a career, kids and everything else that life throws in your face….you are already on the way to winning the game of life in no small measure.

It was all going well, but like so many university students in their first year, we were first forced to study a more general course than we would have liked before earning the right to specialize more deeply in our chosen courses. I was horrified to discover that I had to study about (and critique) paintings ranging from the renaissance through to the twentieth century. Long essays were demanded.  I cringed at the idea of joining the ranks of these pretentious dilettantes in the world, endlessly bleating nonsense about dead people’s moody daubings as a means to further aggrandize their self-importance to others.  I recall late nights poring over the full colour prints in the mandatory course books. I noted that although I found most of what I saw to be generally beautiful to my crude eye, the idea of a regular bloke like me actually constructing sentences to critique Francesca and Raphael’s work seemed downright ludicrous. I mean, where does one even begin?

As a way in, I tried to look at my favourite photographs of the twentieth century, and make notes about what I liked about them. I focused a lot on portraits, as these were often the closest things photographically to many of the paintings that we had to choose from for our essays. Looking back now I realize how stupid I was at first in being perfectly okay with having a working knowledge of the photographic medium and yet failing to recognize its relevance to the paintings thrust upon me. Many renaissance painters were the portrait photographers of their day of course.  It’s actually not that hard to find photos that are lit like a Vermeer or a Titian, and I didn’t notice that this sidetrack I had gone down was becoming a strangely enjoyable pursuit in itself. The way that these great painters saw light had to be just as important as to any photographer since. I became a touch disappointed at myself for never having made more of an effort to study this previously. In hindsight, this is the good thing about the first year of such a degree; it forces you to study things that you would never have chosen to of your own accord. Through this situation, you can discover new things about yourself and the world that really open your eyes. It’s never a bad thing. My first few essays on this faired better than I had expected, despite a particularly cruel professor in that year. By the final paper of the term, we had reached the lofty heights of twentieth century art and were given a choice of just three paintings to critique, the required essays were now of a much increased minimum word count.  The paintings were obviously carefully chosen as works that had had a lot less written about them in the usual places, woe betide anyone looking to plagiarise or paraphrase one of the few articles out there at the time on them. I chose Pablo Picasso’s ‘Girl in a Chemise’ (google it lest I be sued by one of his relatives for its inclusion here) from his blue period and I based my approach on the way I would look at a portrait photograph. However I was sure to use all of the technical terms of analysis that we had been taught throughout the course for the discussion and critique of fine painting. I felt it was perhaps a bit of a gamble but had secured enough reasonable scores at that point in the term to feel confident with such a move.

I’ll spare you the full essay but here is a key extract from what I wrote:

“The painting ‘Girl in a Chemise’, by Picasso is a portrait, painted around 1905.  It is an oil on canvas measuring approximately 72.7 by 60 cm. The girl is the sole subject and the picture plane puts us so close that we may only see her from the waist upwards. The view of the subject is from the front and slightly angled. Her head is turned away to her left, as though to repel any empathy, affording us only a single sided view of her face and upswept hair. Onto her emaciated frame, Picasso adds a provocatively oversized breast, which penetrates into an almost spiritual blue halo. The modelling of her diaphanous garment around the collarbone is detailed enough to emphasize its flimsiness.  There seems a paradox between her wraithlike appearance and her exuded sexuality. Our main focus is drawn towards her porcelain face, gaunt expression and dead eyes.  The modelling of this translucent face is more detailed and caricaturial than that of her lower torso, perhaps because of the wider tonal range between figure and ground at this point on the literal plane. The brushwork elsewhere seems perfunctory, with less merging of colour and some paint runs in the background. The room the girl is in appears dark and cold with a small light source on the top left side, out of our view. The subject looks as though her skin would be very pallid and clammy to the touch. The artist used a contrast of light subject against dark blue and green background to impart not only a melancholy darkness but also a cold, disconsolate atmosphere to the illusionistic plane as a whole. Even the warm tones of her rose shawl fail to permeate Picasso’s chill.”

 I was very lucky to have received my highest score for that course from this essay but perhaps luckier still to have been educated in how to look at, analyse and enjoy the fine paintings of the masters and relate them to my existing love of photographic art. I later had an exam on this (even had to fly to the U.K. for the pleasure of sitting it) within a tight time limit but really enjoyed it and did reasonably well overall. I wonder how many other photographers also enjoy (or would enjoy) this exercise? It was an undertaking that I wouldn’t have otherwise chosen to embark upon, and one which certainly took me out of my comfort zone. I recall that I felt awkward and uneasy about trying (what I perceived to be) something I wouldn’t be able to do. I later learned that Pablo once said “I am always doing that which I cannot do, in order that I may learn how to do it.” Turns out that we have might have something in common with the great painters after all.

 CCP