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drarry-is-totally-cannon · 3 months ago

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Drarry & The Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 7 ~ Something Exciting/Wicked This Way Comes

(A/N: Don't panic. YOU HAVE NOT MISSED THE PREVIOUS 6 CHAPTERS!!! I just started it at 7 because this is where my story diverges from JKR's original Plot. Also, I'm new to writing in 3rd person so we'll see. I'll try my best to imitate the original HP style but it might be a bit off. Ahhh! This took me way too long. I feel like it isn't perfect, so I may edit it later, but at least it's done. My very first Drarry fic!!!)

The Weaslys and their youngest son, Ron's best friends, Hermione Granger, and the famous Harry Potter have been up since before even the sun had made its first appearance in the sky and Harry feels as if he's been hit by Jelly-Legs Jinx. But now, arriving at the destination, the campgrounds for the finale of the Quidditch World Cup, his energy is completely restored. In fact, there's been a sort of buzzing in him since the group met up with Mr. Digory and his son, Cedric.

The moment is still fresh in Harry's mind, despite the slight disorientation from the Port-key.

The older boy had been perched in a tree when they reached the top of the hill. Harry hadn't noticed him at first, still too busy laughing at Ron's groaning complaints about the long walk. But when Cedric greeted everyone Harry's eyes went immediately to him.

His red hair caught the light like the suncatcher in Mrs. Weasly's kitchen making it almost appear to sparkle and the sun gave his skin the same glow. Harry thought he must be part faerie or nymph or something because no boy should be this attractive.

Cedric jumped down from the branch in one fluid movement and strode over to shake everyone's hand. Harry swore he smiled a bit brighter when he got to him, but maybe that was just his imagination. He recalls how Cedric's hands were warm and his grip was pleasantly strong, fitting of his build.

Harry blinks away the memory to look at the Hufflepuff seeker again. Somehow the boy, three years Harry's senior, is even more handsome in real life.

'I've never been jealous of a bloke like this before. And I've always thought I looked alright, but this is weird . . .'

"See you 'round Arthur. Ced and I have got to be off now. Got to meet the Missus before she gets all in a twist. And goodbye Harry. May the best team win."

Cedric looks away, clearing his throat lightly, embarrassed at his father yet again referencing Harry's terrible fall last year. "Well, it's been truly great meeting all of you. I guess we've got to go. Hopefully, we'll see you around. If we don't see each other before September, know that I'm looking forward to that re-match. I would like to beat you on fair terms." He winks at Harry, his competitive spirit clear in his eyes. Whatever skill he may or may not lack, his spirit certainly makes up for it.

Something about the gesture makes Harry feel warm, a slightly different feeling than the blissful buzz of Quidditch camaraderie. He looks down, then slowly back up to Cedric, not quite meeting the boy's eyes. "Y-yeah. Me too. It'll be . . . fair."

Harry has never been a master of words but even he thinks that was awkward. But he can say no more because with that the Diggorys are off. Thankfully for Harry, most everyone is too preoccupied with the majesty of the grounds to pay much attention to his fumbling. After all, they are something of a sight to behold. Tents in every shape and size imaginable stretch on as far as Harry can see (and probably farther accounting for his notoriously unreliable vision).

"Is this okay?" He asks, his breath taken away at the sheer expanse. He's never seen so many wizards in one place. People from all countries, children younger than Ginny, and adults with silver hair.

"What do you mean, Harry?" Mr. Weasly asks.

"What about the muggles, won't they get suspicious?"

"Nope, there are hundreds of charms around the campground. If any muggle comes within a mile they suddenly remember something urgent they have to do at home. It's quite the sight actually, the poor people, running off like that. And, of course, each family puts charms on their own tents. We wizards rarely get together like this so when we do, we can't resist showing off a bit." The man giggles with joy, sounding more like a Hogwarts student himself than a ministry employee of many years.

—

Harry's amazement only grows as they walk down the rows upon rows of enchanted temporary homes. Most tents look fairly ordinary, their owners making a somewhat decent effort to blend in, but they're still spectacular by their sheer number. Not to mention the few obviously magical tents that look more like small houses. He's not the only one impressed. Hermione gasps.

'These must all involve such advanced, precise charm work. Extension charms, cloaking charms . . . if only I could make something like this, even something small like a bag.'

Even Ron, despite his magical upbringing, has never seen this many international wizards before and gapes at the sheer decadence of some of the tents. He is not so silent about his thoughts, muttering "Must be the pureblood families, right rich snobs the lot of them."

Hermione is too lost in thought to hear and Harry ignores his best mate's grumbling in favour of scanning the crowd for a particular tent. He's not quite sure what he's looking for but is sure he'll know it when he sees it. He frowns when he fails to spot it and follows the Weasleys dejectedly.

After labouring for an hour and a half to set up the tent, everyone heads inside. The cloth enclosure, which from the outside looks hardly big enough for two people, much less 10, has a small loft with a window, invisible from the outside. It's through this window that Harry spots the largest tent he's seen so far. A black mass with turrets, balconies, and several peacocks tethered to the outside.

'That has to be it!'

Harry's suspicions are only confirmed when he sees a familiar head of white-blond hair parting the crowd to enter. At the sight, he jumps down from the loft, scaring an unsuspecting Ginny into dropping her copy of Witch Weekly: 100 Most Influential Women in Quidditch Edition.

She blushes at his sudden appearance in front of her, but he hardly notices. "Ah, Harry. What on earth?"

"Sorry, I've got to, er, get some water?"

"Water?"

"Yeah . . . I'm really thirsty, from the walk, you know."

"Okay. Well, the pump's a bit of a way away, would you like me to go with you, I can help. I'll tell Dad."

Harry sighs, wishing she'd let him go, but that's seemed impossible since he rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets in her first year. As much as Harry denies it, he's easy to read and Ginny is hardly stupid. He should've known she wouldn't accept his lie so easily.

"Ah, well I kind of wanted to explore on my own, meet up with some of the boys from my year, and do, you know, idiotic boy stuff." He lies easier than he thought he would, quoting Hermione.

Harry feels guilty when Ginny deflates, shoulder sagging with obvious disappointment, "Well, Dad won't want you just going off, this is a big place."

"I know. But I saw Dean and Seamus just outside. I won't be going far. And I'll do everyone the favour of bringing water back."

'Agh, drat! Well, hard to be subtle when you're Harry bloody potter I guess. Probably best though, Ginny's right. I still get lost around the castle sometimes and I've been there loads. And Mr. Weasley isn't the nosy type., I'm sure it'll be fine.'

The thought of being sent out to trek across the grounds for water in the summer heat makes the idea more infinitely palatable and reluctantly, she nods. "Alright, I'll tell Dad so he won't worry."

"Thank you, Ginny. You really are the best."

She lights up at that, and Harry wonders if it was the wrong thing to say, but not for long because his thoughts turn to another as soon as he's out of the tent flap.

Surprisingly, for all their talk, the Malfoy family tent isn't a far walk from the Weasley tent.

'Everyone must be inside. I'd bet Pansy and Blaise are there, probably Theo too. We didn't plan to meet, I wonder if he'll even want to see me.'

Taking a breath, Harry points his wand at the tent, sending a shower of harmless silver and green sparks, the colours of Slytherin house, inside. It's a spell he learnt from one of the tent's occupants. He snickers when he hears a girl scream.

'Sorry, Pansy.'

"Ah, what in Merlin was that?" he hears Blaise mutter.

"I told you the Irish are crazy, I don't even know why you're cheering for them, Draco. The Bulgarians have Viktor Krum, who's only the most famous seeker in all of history." Pansy scoffs dismissively.

"Famous, but not best. And we're cheering for the Irish because Malfoys always cheer for the winning team."

'You knotheads, those weren't Ireland's colours, they were ours.' Draco keeps the comment to himself, not feeling like risking Pansy's wrath just now.

"Famous but not best, eh? Like Potter."

Harry, who'd know the sound anywhere, notes the absence of Draco's laugh in the chorus of snickers.

There's a pause and all sound from the tent stops. "Ugh, bloody Potter. It's always something with him, isn't it? Stupid perfect Potter no one ever shuts about him. I swear if I hear another word about the Golden Boy, I'll puke."

'But you're the one who never shuts up about him, Draco.' Pansy keeps these thoughts to herself, giggling as she looks around at her friends, all thinking a similar version of the statement.

'He's such a good liar, if I didn't know I'd think he really meant that.' Harry shoves the insecurity down. His friendship with Draco has always been a rocky road, fragile due to the circumstances around them. For one thing the natural distrust between the two and then the animosity between the adults in their lives. What started as politeness neither is sure has blossomed yet into kindness. It's quite difficult to know where you stand with someone when you can't even talk in public.

Harry may not be the most observant but he now knows Draco well enough to see that ever since they met it's seemed as if some invisible barrier prevents Draco from getting close to Harry. Though Harry isn't sure if it's a natural defence mechanism or something more. He can't imagine what it could be since after the Third Year he's assured Draco that everything he does in public is for show. The teasing is all a part of the fun. He's not sure if he can say the same for Draco because sometimes his words feel so real. But what could possibly be the reason for that?

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come back quick though, I want to paint your nails in Bulgaria red."

"How about you don't, and I go find the imbecile who nearly set our tent on fire. Probably some poor drunk Irishman."

Harry can hear his friend's voice getting closer and steps out of his hiding place. The blond's grey eyes widen when he sees Harry, then narrow again, face falling into an easy smirk on his face.

'He's harmless like this.' Harry thinks, 'Still a snake, but not a venomous one.'

"My, my, so that was you, Potter. You've improved greatly over the summer. I didn't know you knew any spells besides Expleiarmus."

Harry punches his arm lightly "Git!"

The smirk shifts into something more genuine. "Hah. Sorry, I love my friends but I know they can be intense sometimes. But seriously, what are you doing here, Harry?"

"Oh, nothing much. I was just out for an afternoon stroll, that's a thing muggles do, you wouldn't know, and before I knew it, I was here. It's not far from Surrey really, only a couple hundred kilometres." Harry answers casually.

"Be serious, Harry." But Draco's own seriousness is lost behind the smile that he's trying to hide.

"I'm watching the finale of the Quidditch World Cup, don't be dense." Harry laughs

Draco nods, mostly to himself. "Oh, the Weaslys took you along with them, then."

"You knew the Weasleys were coming?"

Draco rolls his eyes, "Yes, of course I did. I heard my father mention that Mr. Weasly sold his house to get tickets so I assumed he used connections at the Ministry." Both boys wince. "Anyhow, that's very kind of them. I'm glad they did. I think you might love Quidich even more than Weasley."

Harry laughs, "Maybe, but his room is basically a Chudley Cannons shrine."

Draco frowns in mock disgust, "The Cannons? I've always been more of a Magpie fan myself."

"Magpie? Like those Australian birds that attack shiny things? I learnt about them in primary school a bit."

"Oh, right. Gosh, Potter, You got to tell Weasley to drag you to more Quidditch games. The Montrose Magpies. They're one of the best teams in the British-Irish league."

"Cool. Your friends are here?"

"Yeah, Pansy, Blaise and Theo. Crabbe and Goyle are probably off somewhere buying out the concessions. But, I'm sure they'll manage without me for a bit."

"Yeah." Harry agrees. There's something Harry finds satisfying about Draco ditching his friends for him. Like he's bringing him to the Gryffindor side, Harry guesses. But both boys know that Draco could never be a Gryffindor. Perhaps that's even why he and Harry are such good friends. After all, how could he not befriend the boy who risked his father's wrath to secretly help him learn about the history of Slytherin and Parselmouths and then gave them the clue that helped them solve the mystery of the chamber and made Harry realise he was not, in fact, going insane.

"We should probably go, you know, so they don't see us."

Draco doesn't respond for a second, staring off into space and right at Harry. Harry's found that Draco is almost always staring at him. At first, it was a bit uncomfortable, his gaze heavier than anyone else Harry has ever met, grey eyes looking down at him with the intensity of the sun when Dudley uses his big magnifying glass to fry ants. But now Harry is just used to it, used to those grey eyes boring into him. Sometimes he'd swear it's grown almost pleasant now. He never bothers to guess what Draco might be thinking about because he knows he couldn't anyway.

Despite his hefty stare, Draco's tone is light when he speaks. "Right, I know a place."

He looks around as if searching for something, then he points his wand and despite him saying nothing at all, a comically large green top hat with an even larger green shamrock and green jacket also adorned with shamrocks come whizzing into his hands. Harry stares at his use of non-verbal magic. Draco takes no notice of Harry's amazement, throwing the garments at Harry who lets them fall.

"What are you waiting for, get those on." Draco's face falls into comic offence, "Oh . . . oh, don't tell me you're cheering for Bulgaria?"

"I don't know who to cheer for, it's not like I get to follow Quidich much when I'm at home. Why?" Harry asks stupidly, then answers his own question. " . . . Right, yeah. Duh."

"Merlin, you forget you're famous, don't you." Draco sighs, ignoring the mention of Harry's unfortunate home life for the both of them.

Sheepishly, Harry picks up the garments, shrugging on the too-small-looking jacket which somehow (probably by magic) fits him perfectly, and the large hat which casts rough shadow over his face to cover his scar and the white section of his hair above it.

"Come on!" And then Draco is grabbing his hand and pulling him along.

They end up at the edge of the campground, just in the woods exactly where Mr. Weasley told Harry not to go. The forest looks thicker than it should and green light filters through the trees casting a greenish glow over them. It makes Draco's hair look mint green instead of blond. They both laugh, a little out of breath from the sudden run across the huge campground and relieved to be away from the eyes of their respective groups.

After he gathers himself Harry notices for the first time Draco's clothes. For Harry, being raised by the Durselys, dressing like a muggle was his first nature, robes feeling awkward and out of place, but, of course, this wouldn't be the case for someone like Draco Malfoy, a member of one of Great Britain's wealthier pure-blood families.

And yet . . . Harry finds that Draco wears muggle clothes well, even better than he does. This isn't the first time he's seen him without robes, but outside of school, it feels somehow different. He's dressed in all black, an all-black suit with a black shirt. It makes his hair almost seem to glow.

'I guess I can see why all the Slytherin girls fawn over him.' Harry thinks. It's an odd thought, but not objectively untrue. He ignores it when another question enters his head.

"Aren't you hot?"

"I'm a Malfoy, I am always hot, Potter."

Harry cocks his head, ignoring the twinge of annoyance that Draco still uses his surname sometimes, "What? That doesn't even . . . oh. Hey! That's not what I meant!"

Draco laughs. Harry ignores his embarrassment being mocked because it's a real laugh. Rare even when he's alone with Harry. "I know that. Mother put a cooling charm on all our clothes."

"That's nice."

Draco looks down, "Sorry."

"About what?" Then Harry gets it. He hadn't been thinking about his long-dead mother before, but Draco probably felt bad for bringing up his own, very alive, mother. "It's really fine. You don't have to walk on eggshells, I hate it when people do that. You never have before, so don't start now. Let's just talk. Okay? About anything else, something funny."

"Alright, well father," Draco says the word with heavy exasperation, "keeps hinting about a mysterious event taking place at school this year but refuses to give any details. And I know mother knows as well but she won't budge either. Cruel, the both of them, keeping me in suspense like this."

"Event? Well, I only hope it's not an exam."

"Scared, Potter." The quip is stupid, stupid, and familiar.

Harry gulps dramatically, "A bit yeah. If it is an exam, the homework is going to be enough to fill the entire lake."

"Merlin, yeah. Binns and McGonagall are the worst, sorry, I know you like her, but five essays in two months, really? The professors are aware we have other classes, right? I'm going to get Carpal Tunnel Syndrome, a muggle affliction of all things." He moans, throwing his head back in a typical display of theatrics, his blond hair ruffling with the sudden movement. When he recovers himself his hair falls perfectly back into place.

'It's quite nice, his hair', Harry notes. If only his own hair could look as nice instead of sticking up like he's taken a shock. 'Is it a spell?' he wonders.

Harry can't help but laugh. He's heard of the ailment from Aunt Petunia's awful friends when she used to host Thursday afternoon book clubs in the Dursley's parlour.

Harry groans, "I bet it's an exam, that'd be just my luck. If Voldemort can't get me, sleep-deprivation will."

Draco winces at the name, looking suddenly serious. Privately, he worries that the upcoming event may have something to do with the mysterious people that his father started inviting last year. Now he doesn't even invite them, they just show up, anytime, all the time. He's caught whispered words through walls, snippets of conversations not meant for him.

Voldemort.

Death Eater.

Is his father involved in that? Surely not? Narcissa Malfoy never talks to her son about the war, but that must be because she lost someone, collateral damage, or even had a cousin or something who was a traitor, right?

But before Harry can ask, he's smiling that Slytherin Prince smile of his again. "If you're really worried about it, I'd be happy to help you study . . ." The sentence trickles off, the sound dying on the breeze. Draco looks around, eyes landing on everything but Harry, seemingly surprised at his words.

'Shite! Why . . . why did I say something like that? Merlin, Draco, get yourself together. If you keep acting like this . . . I have to fix this, let him know I didn't mean . . .'

"If you'd like, or not, of course. You don't have to." Then he recovers himself, laughing (but in Harry's opinion it seems half-hearted) "But, Potter, I'm sure someone like you could use all the help you can get. I am second in the class after all. Second only to your bushy-haired menace of a friend. It's like she can make the days longer just to study. I bet if she ever found a way that's exactly what she'd do."

Draco laughs bitterly.

'What's he rambling about? Does he really resent Hermione's grades that much? Is he jealous? Of what though? He's got the brains to beat her. I bet if she didn't have the time-turner, he would. Is this about our friendship? Surely he knows I'd be happy to study with him. I know he's emotional, but this seems a bit much, even for him. Is something wrong?'

Taking a breath, Harry tries to clear his mind. He's not used to thinking so deeply about something like this. It's kind of tiring.

"I'd rather study with you, actually. You're about as bossy as Hermione, but at least you don't expect me to know everything, acting like it's all obvious." The words come out before he's entirely thought them through, but they're not untrue.

Draco thanks Merlin that the darkness of the thicket hides the pinkness of his cheeks.

"It is obvious, and I would expect you to know everything, if you paid attention in class, that is. But I know you don't, so I'm patient. It's as simple as that. Though it's nice to know I'm better than her at something." The words come out slightly sharper than he means for them too, like a snake coiling up, using insults to mask embarrassment.

"Hey! I do, I just daydream sometimes. And you're better than her at a lot of things."

"Oh?" Malfoy arches an elegant blond brown.

'It's like he was made for smirking and sarcasm, isn't it?'

"Well, flying for one. You're a brilliant flyer." Harry knows that Draco knows exactly how smart he is and that he shouldn't be fueling his ego but he can't help it.

'Maybe compliments are what it takes to get his walls down. Ah, I know better than that, he's not that shallow. But I've still got to try.'

Draco moves farther into the shade. 'Look at me floundering over some nice words just because they came from Potter. Pathetic.'

"Well, thank you, Potter. You're not so terrible yourself."

"Oh my god! Wow! That's like the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me!"

Both boys nearly fall over with laughter at Harry's impression of a high-voiced American schoolgirl.

"Your American accent is shite. You sound just like Sally."

"Who?"

"A Hufflepuff from Astronomy club last year, and I'm so sorry, I'm sure she and her family are very . . . nice people, but she's got a voice like she's inhaled helium."

"Oof. Speaking of Hufflepuff, I met Cedric Diggory and made such a fool of myself"

"What? Why? You're not still embarrassed about the broom thing are you, everyone knows that wasn't your fault, don't they?"

"Yeah, but I think I must've sounded like a right idiot."

Draco tilts his head, resembling a confused cat. "Well that's to be expected, but why in particular? I mean, it must have been severe if you picked up on it."

"Oh shut up! I- I just . . . I don't know but I was so embarrassed I couldn't speak. Not even about the fall, just like, I don't know . . . stuff."

"Stuff." Draco questions, trying not to get ahead of himself. 'It's fine. It's probably nothing, don't worry. Just totally straight Quidditch bruv stuff.'

"Oh well, he just good-looking, I guess, and-"

'WHAT?!'

"Oh, are you gay now as well, Potter? Welcome to the club. Would you like a pin" It comes out bitter, and hurtful because Draco is bitter and hurt.

'Does . . . does he like guys now too? If he likes guys why can't he . . . what's bloody Diggory got that I haven't?'

"Huh? What?" Harry blushes the colour of his quidditch robes, "N-No, it's not like that. I actually like . . . erm . . ." he says the first girl's name that pops into his head, "Cho Chang!"

"Cho Chang?" Draco raises an eyebrow, relieved, hiding embarrassment again, but not fully convinced.

". . . Yeah? What's wrong with Cho?"

"Oh, nothing." Draco's tone is sing-song, relaxed, his face calm as always. But Harry sees the glint of mischief in his eyes, the one that's usually there even as others accuse him of scowling.

The look on Harry's face is one of confusion, embarrassment, and terror all in one.

"I just think you're lying." Draco's expression turns sincere, "I mean, it's okay, mate. You know me of all people won't mind. You know you can talk to me . . . anytime, yeah." But by the end of the sentence, Darco's smiling, a laugh colouring the words.

Once again the two fill the silence with shared laughter.

'His laugh's not half bad, I wish he'd laugh this much in school.'

"Yeah, I don't think I will." Awkward silence. "Not that it's bad to be gay, obviously, love who you love, that's fine, it's just that . . . well, you know . . . I'm not."

"Potter, you dunce, it's fine. I was only joking."

'Because that's all this will ever be.' Draco hides the disappointment behind a practised smile.

"Yeah, right, of course." Harry is too relieved at not offending his friend to see through it.

"Enough of this." Draco waves a dismissive hand, "You know I love good gossip, Potter. Tell me exactly what happened with Diggory."

"You'd better not tell anyone!" Harry swats at him, but Darco shares his seeker reflexes and doges easily.

"I won't. Malfoy's honour." Draco places a hand over his heart and bows like a prince from times past.

'Not that that means much anymore . . .'

"Okay, fine, gosh!"

"'Gosh'?" Draco questions teasingly, "Just say Merlin for Merlin's sake!"

"Malfoy." Harry warns, teasing as well, "Do you want to know or not?"

(A/N: Harry will swear as a form of rebellion and because he learnt it from Dudley doing it behind Petunia's back, but the Durselys never took the lord's name in vain so it's not a habit he picked up.)

Draco puts his arms up in surrender.

'Being with him like this, alone together, talking, laughing . . . I wish we could do this all the time. At school, away from everyone maybe we could- Merlin, I'm turning into some dewy-eyed schoolgirl! But I'd skip around like an idiot if it was with Potter, I know I would. Merlin, am I really such a simp? Is this what he's done to me? Stupid knight!'

"Okay. So I have no idea why but I was just really jealous all of the sudden, well, not jealous exactly, but, I don't know, I just felt so . . . insecure." Harry still isn't quite sure that that's the correct word for the strange tingling feeling he experienced but nevertheless, he wants to hide as he says it.

Draco's brows furrow, considering this, readying advice.

'His advice is usually good. . . . Maybe not this time though. It isn't like the Slytherin prince has got much to be insecure about, then again, he did seem weird about being behind Hermione in year rank . . . I don't know. It's been two years and I still barely know him. Ugh.'

'Potter, insecure? What a bloody joke. Gyffindor's knight? Perfect, popular, seeker, saviour of the entire wizarding world Potter? Ah, well, we all have our down moments. I- . . . Pansy's the prettiest girl I know but sometimes I catch her staring in the mirror with that look in her eye . . . If a friend is all Potter and I will ever be then I should at least be a good one and help.'

"Well, don't be. You're a bloody brilliant flyer, and you've got a talent for Defence Against the Dark Arts. Diggory can turn watches to whistles? So what does Diggory know about a few charms? I could do that in my sleep, without a wand. What's that going to do if You-Know-Who comes knocking at his door?"

It was a joke, but neither of them laughed.

Anyone observing both boys would notice how they paled at the words.

Frames from Harry's dream flash behind his eyelids, the greenlight blinding him for a second. He would swear that he can hear the thump as the gardener's body hit the old wooden floor.

'No, no, I'm here. Here in the Quidditch World Cup. . . with Malfoy.' Harry reminds himself.

It was a joke. A poorly timed one, one echoing the words of the little voice in the back of Draco's head.

Draco opens his mouth but closes it without saying anything. Harry can tell he wants too, that the words are on the edge of his tongue, dying to spill out, but as always, held back by some invisible barrier.

'I know I've hardly earned the right to his thoughts, but I'd like to know all the same. I felt like I understood him better when we were enemies, but now I know that there's so much more I don't know. That seems like a running theme in my life. Heh. Maybe Professor Binns should just let me write my essay on that. How there always seems to be something that someone isn't telling me, a memoir by myself, Harry James Potter. I've never wanted to know so much about magic before, about the families who carry it, that's Hermione thing. Will Malfoy ever tell me what he really thinks? Not just the brutal honesty about trivial things, but, like . . . real stuff? Hermione says bottling things up isn't healthy.'

"Yeah."

"What?" Draco almost forgot his original comment amongst his worries.

"Yeah, charms won't be much help. They weren't for my parents."

Draco nods, looking a step behind for once. "Right."

Neither boy knows how to broach the subject of what's going on in their heads. But they both know they don't want to leave the presence of the one person who seems to understand.

"Let's meet up later." Harry blurts out, "as friends, of course." he adds using the old gay joke to cover the awkwardness, it sort of works.

"Of course, I could never date an idiot of your magnitude, Potter."

"Right, right, how am I going to"

"I'll find you," Draco assures.

The words reassure Harry more than is really necessary. The warmth of having a good friend, of course. It is reassuring to have a confidant . . . maybe. If Harry didn't know better, he'd say there was something else in the blond boy's tone, but Harry has never been good at reading people so he must be wrong.

'What? What, why did I- Merlin that was like something out of a cheesy film! I need to stop this. Potter is only so daft. He'll realise eventually. . . . Or maybe he won't. And that might just hurt more. I'm a Malfoy, we're not supposed to be so invisible.'

Suddenly: footsteps!

"Quick, Potter!" Draco whispers, the words a near-silent shout.

"What!"

"Hide."

But there's nowhere to hide, the trees aren't thick enough.

"What's going-"

"My father." The two-word explanation is enough to send shivers down Harry's spine.

"Shite! I can't-"

Then Harry is shoved violently up against a tree trunk, by Draco of all people.

Draco slaps him. "You call yourself a wizard, Potter? Pathetic. I can't believe a wizard as 'great' as you would go wasting your time with low class refuse like the Weasleys, with . . ." Draco pauses for half a second, guilt clear in his eyes, he can't bring himself to say the word, not again. For better or worse he doesn't have to.

"Draco? Is this where you scurried off to? Off fighting with fists like some lowly muggle?" Lucius Malfoy says the word with unmasked disgust. "Did your mother and I simply waste the money we spent on dulling lessons for you?" His look of disapproval is penetrating, the kind of look that freezes one's self-esteem and then shatters it all in the same instant.

Harry would say it reminds him of his wretched Aunt, but Petunia Dursely could only dream of looking so cruel. 'Aunt Petunia wishes she could look at me like that.'

Draco doesn't want to look at him.

'Don't be a coward, Draco. Not in front of Potter.' He tells himself.

Draco turns to face his father, a calm, unbothered look in his eyes, not like a boy desperate for approval but scared of what it means.

"Well, you see father, I simply couldn't duel him."

Lucius quirks a blond eyebrow, hair barely darker than his son's. "And whyever not?"

"Because it would be too cruel. You see, Potter, here, can't duel. He was raised by muggles." Draco makes an aghast face, but it's theatrical. "He only knows how to use his fists. Isn't that ridiculous, Father? Can you believe such an imbecile is 'The Chosen One'? He's like a troll-"

"Draco, quiet! I hear of nothing but bloody Potter all summer. Now let him go before you dirty yourself. After all, he consorts with mudbloods."

"Of course, father. I shan't touch him any more than necessary." Draco shoves Harry back, slamming him into the tree just hard enough, yanking his hands away like Harry is a hot cauldron, throwing one last artificially nasty glare then turns to follow his father back to his tent.

"Idiot boy." Harry can hear Lucius Malfoy whisper cruelly as he exits the forest with his son. "Did I not tell you to make friends with 'The Chosen One'? If only you'd gotten on his good side then perhaps you could've been useful. Hmmph, surely he will find something an ingrate like you can do."

Harry would like to say the words shock him, after all, Lucius has done nothing but gloat of his son's perfection whenever he's encountered Harry, especially when he's with the Weasleys, but Harry has seen the cruel glint in his eyes. It was inevitable he'd turn that gaze to his son if he hasn't been from the beginning.

'Is this why he never tells me anything? . . . Is he . . . afraid? No, Malfoy isn't afraid of anything.' But Harry knows that isn't true. He remembers that time in the woods in first year, even before the boys encountered Voldemort, Malfoy had been shaking. And when Lupin had mentioned the Boggart. No, not Malfoy, Malfoy isn't afraid of anything, he couldn't care less, but Draco is. Draco is the young boy who cares all too much.

'What would have come out of there?'Harry wonders distantly.

But behind his hard exterior, it can be hard for anyone to see that, even the boy he'd now call his closest friend. Harry ignores the gruesome memory, blinking away the visions of split unicorn blood turning the ground under his feet silver, telling himself not to feel guilty.

It takes Harry a moment to catch his breath, he doesn't know why. He's definitely the fitter of the two boys, with all his running away from near-death experiences. But Draco is stronger than he looks, and at the moment, with all that fear and adrenaline, the pressure building, mounting to an explosion under his father's watch, he pushed Harry a bit harder than he meant to. Harry doesn't mind. He's used to being shoved. He's had much worse. He understands. It feels almost nice to be shoved for a reason other than someone's enjoyment of seeing him in pain.

With one last glance in the direction the Malfoys left, he leaves the forest, heading back to the Weasly tent.

'Wait . . . the water! Fuck. Right.' Sighing Harry ducks to avoid an explosion of bright green sparklers and heads to the pump.

As he walks a feeling of embarrassment washes over him for the second time that day. He hadn't noticed in the moment, but Draco had been so close, his silver eyes looking so guilty, guilty, and something else. Harry thinks it was far more guilt than was necessary. It's not like he's had a choice. How else would he have explained their being alone in the forest together? It's just the way that things have to be. Harry's learnt to be fine with that.

'Or should I feel guilty as well, for nearly making him say . . . that word again. How didn't I realise before? Of course, Mr Malfoy reserves his highest standards of all for his family. Maybe having no parents at all is better than that. I know I'd rather have been put in a group home with Nuns than with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, then at least the beatings wouldn't have been personal.'

Harry looks down just in time to see his pail overflowing. It seems heavier than it should as he carries it back.

'Relax, Harry. Not everything is about you. Here no one cares, they're all just here for Quidich. The dream can't have meant anything, nothing bad is going to happen. Don't go being all paranoid. Voldemort is gone. I can't let him have any more power over me. Ron would tell me to enjoy myself, so that's what I'll do.'

Harry nods, waving at Dean and Seamus as he passes them, they nod back, then go straight back to setting sparklers. Harry was going to have fun at a non-school sporting event for the first time in his life, yes he was, and absolutely nothing was going to stop him.

(A/N: OMG! The first chapter. I really hope it's alright, characterisation can be hard for me sometimes. I hope I kept Harry's sass in enough.)

(A/N: Use of underage magic can be explained by this reddit post: [Harry Potter theory] The underaged magic law was created in a subtle effort to remove non-pure-blood wizards from wizard society. : r/FanTheories and these Quora posts: If underage wizards and witches can't perform magic outside of school, how can Harry use Lumos at 4 Privet Drive? - Quora)

#drarry fic #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #drarry #draco x harry #harry x draco #hpdm #dmhp #harco #gof #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter rewrite #hpdm fanfic

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aladaylessecondblog · 6 months ago

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Mother, pt. 6

Tav was sitting quietly at the large table with the laden feast when Raphael returned from the Chamber of Egress. She didn't rise from her chair, but sipped at the teacup before her and said, "Your father knows."

"Does he, now? Did he visit to threaten you?"

"Hardly," Tav replied, blowing gently over the rim of the teacup, "He seemed surprise that I welcomed him as warmly as I did. You have taught me how to receive visitors here, and I put that instruction to good use. I could have used some warning about his intent to visit, however."

"He didn't tell me he planned to visit," Raphael spoke quickly, "And you are sure he issued no threats? Not even subtle ones?"

"None I could not flatter away." There was a brief smile as he took the seat beside her. "I welcomed him as befits his station and he was as charming as could be expected. Contradictory...but I learned to manage your extremes, and your father is not so different. I believe that we've reached an understanding."

One reached after much cajoling and flattery and redirection, but an understanding nonetheless. Mephistopheles, she found, wasn't easy to predict, but in the few years she had spent with Raphael she had learned many little tics that those of the Hells displayed their emotions by. It helped her stay a little ahead of the game--not by much, but an advantage was an advantage.

"What did he WANT?" Raphael's voice cracked - only slightly, but it happened.

"To...congratulate me on the child." Tav lay a hand over the slight swell at her belly. "And to give him a name--your father seemed certain the child's a boy."

"That was all that he ordered? All that he asked?"

"That was all. You can understand why I assented, surely? I know you have been struggling to come up with a name yourself...a 'junior' might be suitable on Prime Material, he said, but in the Hells there must be something more of variation."

Raphael's suspicious glance showed plainly how unconvinced he was. He gave a waving gesture, the sign to continue. "And? You've kept me in suspense long enough. What name did he choose?"

"Mordred," Tav replied easily, before draining away the rest of her tea. "Strange name, but even with the power I have I would not refuse an archdevil's command."

#tav does not know the significance of the name #raphael does #and his father knows that #i could tell you i wasnt listening to mordreds lullaby but id be lying #and youll always know that your father's a thief #tav #raphael x tav #bg3 #loyalty loyalty loyalty only to me

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hikennosabo · 1 year ago

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trimax vol 10 random thoughts (ch 5-8)

part 1 here.

okay, time for part 2. i don't want to do this, i have a pit in my stomach.

chapter 5:

destroying razlo's punishers... a good strategy!

getting leverage to jump by stepping on his leg, i love it

you could say he. he was. *wheeze*... i guess you could say he was... ...disarmed... [a comically large hook drags me off the stage]

wolfwood and razlo just met today (not technically but y'know), but he can read razlo so well already, taunting him like this.

THIS FIGHT...!!! it's reminding me of vash vs knives in the finale of the 98 anime! one black gun and one white gun, and them being on even ground, making the same moves...

they're an even match when they're just whaling on each other, but wolfwood has tactics that razlo doesn't. also this is an insanely cool move.

chapter 6:

^ how it feels to read trigun maximum (said again)

^ how it feels to read trigun maximum (said for a third time)

he knows wolfwood is dying. we know wolfwood is dying. he can't do anything to stop it. we can't do anything to stop it. (except for refusing to keep turning the pages, i guess)

THEY HAVE NAMES?

vash can't do anything to stop wolfwood from dying, but he can help wolfwood go out on his own terms...

PLEASE, HE'S ALREADY DYING, WE DON'T NEED YET ANOTHER DEATH FAKEOUT FOR THE BOOKS.

livio interfering... i'm not an expert but this is not how DID works. but sure. the drama carries it.

WHY AND HOW IS CHAPEL STILL ALIVE FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

razlo realizes very fast that chapel never cared. despite his verbal denial, i think he was realizing way before this.

DESERVED!!! YES.... KILL!!!!!!

of course razlo can only attack. attack, like how he killed livio's parents. not that chapel doesn't deserve it, but this is the only thing razlo knows how to do.

ough. livio apologizing... "i'm okay now"...

so is razlo just gone now? like i said, i'm not a DID expert, i know re-integration(? not sure if that's the correct term sorry) is possible, but i don't know if this is how it works...

honestly, i feel bad for razlo. he only knew a life of violence, he was manipulated and indoctrinated by chapel, all he wanted was to be needed but his last experiences are finding out that chapel didn't care about him and then livio telling him he doesn't need him anymore. poor guy.

chapter 7:

oh, no, i don't want to read this chapter again. don't make me read this chapter again.

the difference between this and tristamp... stamp had the orphanage much more directly tied to EoM, and a bunch of guys in suits came to pick wolfwood up. this scene is a lot more "normal," a lot less obviously suspicious. idk if i'd go so far as to say stamp!melanie was in on the whole thing, but she doesn't look happy about wolfwood leaving... i do wonder how stampede will handle all this... ANYWAY!

"six years"... lmao. now i understand what people meant when they said the timeline is confusing. it's killing me and i hate it, actually?! nightow ALL you had to do was NOT specify a number!!!

the coins... i constantly forget about them and i find it funny whenever they're brought up... they were so clearly meant to set the ghg up as a shonen battle enemy-of-the-month type thing but then that got thrown off the rails when the magazine ceased publication and everything got turned upside down. yet the coins persist. what are they all for in the end.

also i'm sad. this is wolfwood's paltry attempt at pushing vash away. (also he's been carrying rai-dei's coin this whole time?! lol?! that's also sad... just waiting to give it to vash i guess...)

"this is the way you want it? are you sure?" i'm just fucking inconsolable at this point.

of course this attempt at sincere emotion is deflected. you boys are so, so, so, so, so stupid.

i can't do this man. i can't review the couch scene. i'm crying too much.

the prayer. this especially is getting to me. we've seen wolfwood pray a few times, but now it's vash's turn to pray. we've never seen him do that. and while vash was there to answer wolfwood's prayer... there is no one to answer vash.

what if i climbed into the microwave right fucking now.

ourgh. out of all the images in this chapter, this is the one that stuck with me the most. even more than the couch images. ugh, i can't even fucking write.

chapter 8:

i don't know where else to say this...? lol but livio's personality is different, he's cute now. is this because he broke out of the EoM brainwashing or because he integrated with(???) razlo? (once again: IS this how this works???) or is it both? either way he's a lot more expressive than he was before...

other people have already talked about how we didn't see the burial. i'm also thinking about everything else we didn't see. vash buried wolfwood, and he also cleaned up outside, brought livio in and laid him down, gathered ingredients and started cooking...

how long did he sit on that couch for before he moved. how much and how hard did he cry. we didn't see that either. we don't need to.

knives. he's smearing blood on his face again.

his laughter... i don't think he finds this funny like "haha funny" necessarily, i think he's just losing it.

vash defends the orphanage and knives doesn't even push it. he just moves on. hmm, i'm trying to articulate this... vash's display of power used up more of his life, which knives noticed obviously, and vash is willing to go that far to protect the orphanage... knives still doesn't want vash to die, and... he's laughing out of disbelief, or something like that. i don't know.

vash and livio sharing a meal together is... it's nice. but vash is still clearly very angry. with livio, with razlo, with himself too probably.

i don't know. i'm not angry with livio or razlo at all. they were both victims of chapel same as wolfwood. this is all chapel's fault in my mind, lol.

oh.

we're gonna see this in stampede too, aren't we. wolfwood will die for a third time and we're gonna see vash holding the punisher.

the fact that this volume doesn't even have the goofy author extra... we're just forced to sit with this. man. the book club wasn't kidding, it's so much worse the second time around. the first time i cried a little but i was mostly just taking it all in. the second time i was like actually heaving and sobbing. reading this volume twice within a few days was a BAD IDEA.

AND WE STILL HAVE FOUR VOLUMES LEFT. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GO ON AFTER THIS. four entire volumes without wolfwood...

#trigunbookclub #trigun talk #june speaks #sorry if this is incomprehensible i was crying too much while outlining this and i don't want to read the volume AGAIN #i'm surprised at how much i had to say about razlo in this volume... i ended up finding him more interesting than i thought i would...

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bearboiferer69 · 7 months ago

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Dishwasher salt

Be me, freshly moved out from my parents. The flat owner installs a dishwasher. Buy dishwasher cubes, wash the dishes. There's stains all over them. Learn that, in order to get rid of these stains, you need to also buy dishwasher salt. In the shop there's only 9000 kilo packs for 9000 PLN. You don't need that much and don't want to spend that much money. You go to your parent's for dinner, and you grab some of their salt into a bag, because they also have a dishwasher. Go back home, waiting at the bus stop, smoking a cig (I make em myself). Undercover cops roll up.

-WATCHU SMOKIN SIR?

-A CIG

The cop sniffs it.

-AIGHT, BUT NOW THAT WE'VE STOPPED, SHOW US YOUR POCKETS AND BACKPACK.

They pull out the bag of dishwasher salt from your backpack.

-OOOOOOOOOO

-UUUUUUUUUU

-OOOOOOOO

-UUUUUUUUUU

-IT'S FUCKING OVER FOR YOU SON

-W11 OVER, SEND THE BOYS TO THE JOHN PAUL 2ND STREET, WE'VE GOT AN INCIDENT

Explaining doesn't help. After 5 minutes three cop vans roll up. Everyone at the bus stop is staring, you're now in handcuffs, 6 cops are standing around you.

-MARK, COME LOOK AT THIS, YOU WERE AT THE TRAINING, HOW MUCH IS THAT?

-OOOH BOB, LIKE, 100 GRAMS FOR SURE, AMPHETAMINE OR MEPHEDRONE OR MAYBE EVEN COKE.

-YOU'RE GOING STRAIGHT TO JAIL, YOU UNDERSTAND ME MOTHERFUCKER?

-THE PROSECUTION WILL GIVE YOU JAIL TIME ON SIGHT FOR SOMETHING LIKE THAT, YOU GET ME SHITHEAD?

-YOU'LL ROT IN A CELL UNTIL SEPTEMBER

-BUT MISTER POLICEMAN THIS REALLY IS DISHWASHER SALT

-YOU WON'T FOOL ME, I'VE BEEN IN THIS JOB FOR 10 YEARS YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT

You go to the station, you get thoroughly searched, ass included. You get chained to a chair. On the scale comes out 120 grams of dishwasher salt, or, as they like to call it, mephedrone.

-YOU KNOW ROBSON?

-YOU KNOW GYPSY?

-YOU KNOW GRAYHEAD?

-WHO DO YOU WORK FOR!?

-WHERE DID YOU FUCKING GET THIS?!

Get slapped repeatedly, kicked in the shins. They tell you how they'll prepare your anus before you land in the cell. Half of the police force gathered here, all of them telling you how much they'll fucking beat you if you don't plead guilty to drug possession and don't tell them where you got them from. All of them are threatening you about how long you'll rot in a prison. Your eyes are full of tears. The Police Chief comes along.

-WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?

-WE CAUGHT A BIG DEALER CHIEF

Scream, swearing that it's only dishwasher salt.

-WELL TO ME IT LOOKS LIKE SALT, I BOUGHT SOME MYSELF A COUPLE DAYS BACK, BUT WE NEED TO SEND THIS TO A LAB

The prospect of sitting in a cell until the test results come back from the lab doesn't satisfy you. Say that they can come to your parent's house and compare them, Chief agrees. You go with four policemen to your parents.

-YO MARK WE NEED TO BE CAUTIOUS, THIS FUCKER COULD BE LEADING US INTO A TRAP

You go into the house, cops already have hands on their holsters.

-MISS DOE? SEARCH TIME! SHOW US YOUR DISHWASHER SALT!

Your parents are shocked like they just drank alcohol. Mom shows them the salt, looks the same, the situation deescalates. The cops start thinking.

-BUT HOW CAN I BE SURE THAT YOU'RE NOT IN POSSESSION OF COKE TOO HUH?!

Sweet_Jesus.png

You, mom, dad and 4 cops go to the store. You buy the 9000 kilo pack of salt for 9000 PLN. People are in awe when 7 people, including 4 cops, are buying dishwasher soap. The cops spill some on the hood of the police car. Exactly the same as the one from the backpack and the one at home

-HEHE SORRY SON, BUT YA GOTTA UNDERSTAND, LOOKED KINDA SUSPICIOUS DIDN'T IT?

Give your parents back the salt.

Go back home.

You decide to hand wash for the rest of your life.

#ACAB #drugs #dishwasher #salt #story #real story #short story #polish culture #cops #police #false arrest #washing dishes

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mumms-the-word · 7 months ago

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A Macabre Masquerade - Ch. 6

Ch. 6 - For My Next Trick...

Characters: Tavs (multiple), Gale, Astarion, Karlach, Wyll, Lae'zel, Shadowheart, Halsin, Minthara + other OCs Plot: One year after defeating the Netherbrain and saving the city, Dani and Gale receive a mysterious invitation to a masquerade ball. The invitation specifically invites them to participate as the Heroes of Baldur's Gate. However, when they get there, they soon realize they aren't the only Heroes of Baldur's Gate that got invited. A/N: This chapter gave me FITS and I think it could be better but we're gonna keep this ball rolling right on along anyway. We've got more weird mirrors, and now we've got a suspicious magic show. What could possibly go wrong?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | BG3 Masterlist | AO3

Something was off about the mirrors in this manor, but Dani was almost too scared to find out what.

“Gale,” she said suddenly. “What do you see in the mirror?”

He stared at her a moment before turning to face the mirror. He must have sensed this was serious for her, because instead of a silly quip or a cute flirtatious line, he glanced between their reflections and said, “I see the two of us.”

“What do we look like?”

A pause. “Well...we’re both wearing blue, and you have a feather wrap and I have a purple sash. I’m in an owl mask and you’re wearing a songbird mask. The whole of the painting gallery is reflected behind us.”

“You don’t see…there isn’t an elven woman or…” She trailed off, realizing how mad she must sound. None of the guests currently in the room looked remotely like the green-clad, blonde half-elf she had seen just seconds ago.

Gale looked at her—not her reflection, but her, at his side—with an obvious look of concern. “Are you sure you’re all right, my love? Are you feeling any ill effects at all, magical or otherwise? From the mask, the room…anything?”

She wanted to brush him off and say she was fine, but it was too late to hide how rattled she was. Besides, aside from maybe Karlach, Gale had always had the best listening ear among her companions and was usually the first with well-meant, often practical advice. She could tell him anything. Even something as crazy as this.

She glanced back at the mirror and then took his arm, leading him away from it to a corner where she couldn’t see her reflection in either glass that stood in that room. “It’s these mirrors. I keep seeing people in them that aren’t in the room itself.”

Gale frowned, and she knew that behind his mask his eyebrows were surely knit together as he put his mind to work. “You mean…phantoms? Illusions? Some kind of major image spell?”

It was something of a relief to hear him taking her seriously right out of the gate. She took his hand, mostly just to hold it while she spoke, but shook her head. “I don’t know. Just now, when I went to look in that big mirror, I saw someone other than me. It should have been my own reflection, but it was someone else entirely. Someone I’ve never seen before. But it only lasted a few seconds before the reflection went back to normal again.”

“Most strange,” he murmured.

“And in the trophy room, I swore I could hear and see Halsin.”

“Halsin? But he told us he wouldn’t be attending.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Hmm…” Gale brought his free hand up, resting his chin on his knuckles, deep in thought. Then he shook his head slightly. “It could be anything. Illusion magic cast on the mirrors, for one. Perhaps it’s part of some strange game our host is trying to play. A gimmick to trick and beguile the guests. Or perhaps, on a more sinister note…perhaps there are guests trapped in the mirrors themselves?”

“Is that possible?”

“My love, with magic, a great many things are possible,” he said wryly.

She supposed she couldn’t argue. Between the two of them, he had always and ever been the student of the Weave and its boundless possibilities. Even while married to her and following her around Baldur’s Gate, trying to rebuild and restore buildings and businesses, or poke and prod the authorities at large to do good instead of ill, he always returned home to study some arcane thing or another. Whereas she was content to play her music, or write letters, or songs, or pages for some book she wanted to publish one day, following one silly venture that kept her entertained after another, he remained a scholar.

It was just another thing she loved about him, even if she felt she herself would never understand half of what he grasped in an instant. It was always worth it to see the way his eyes lit up when he felt he had made some kind of breakthrough in understanding another small facet of complex magical theory.

But they didn’t have his books or notes here at Dormire’s manor.

“What do we do about it?” she asked, thinking back to the mirrors. “Nothing?”

Before he could answer, another brilliant flash of light and a great bang! exploded from the doorway of the next room, causing Dani to jump despite herself.

“What the hells—”

“Oh, that must be the finale,” Gale said, unfazed. She shot him a disbelieving look and he shrugged. “It seems Lord Dormire has hired a few…shall we say…meager magical minstrels for the evening.”

“A magic show?” She couldn’t help but laugh, despite her lingering concerns about the mirrors. “You can’t be serious. Is it any good?”

“Oh I’ve no doubt you can do much, much better, darling,” he said, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her an affectionate squeeze. “With your musical talent, a few handy spells you’ve picked up from me, and your fine taste in entertainment in general? You merely need to wave your hand and they would pale in comparison to you.” He gestured toward the open doorway. “Shall we? We can watch the show while we ponder these strange mirrors.”

She’d rather forget the mirrors entirely if she were being honest, but she nodded. “Sounds good to me. After you, love.”

The next room was as large as the dining room, but devoid of furniture save for a newly constructed platform along one wall—a wall that was nearly covered in floor-to-ceiling mirrors spanning the width of the stage. Of all the rooms on the first floor, this was the most popular, the crowd of guests here standing nearly shoulder to shoulder in front of the makeshift stage. With both them and the stage filling the room, there was barely enough space to maneuver around the edges, much less try to make it to the doorway that led back into the foyer.

From her vantage point in the doorway between the gallery and this room, Dani craned her neck to try and look over the crowd. After a moment, she spotted Shadowheart’s pure white hair and silvery mask on the other side of the crowd. Somehow she had secured a glass of wine and was sipping from it as she watched the performers on stage. Beside her, Lae’zel stood with her arms crossed, her lips in a frown, her eyes glued on the performers with her usual intense stare. Neither looked on edge and a glance at the mirrors behind the performers showed no signs of strange figures or differences at the moment, so...perhaps everything was relatively normal in this room.

Or maybe she was the only one crazy enough to see anything in the mirrors.

She and Gale took up a position along the back wall, furthest from the stage, to watch the show. Like every other guest and servant here, the two performers were also in masks, wearing full white faces with painted smiles and arching eyebrows. Their clothing was more akin to bard attire than wizard robes, though Dani noted that she didn’t see any musical instruments or boxes of theatre props. She didn’t catch what they were saying to their rapt audience as she and Gale were walking in, but they settled in just in time to see the next trick.

The two performers lifted their hands, summoning a colorful light show of glimmering orbs that danced and wove through the air. When one of them snapped their fingers, the orbs cracked open to release several vibrant, ephemeral finches that swooped and flew over the audience, their little cries and birdsong cheerful and bright. The finches split into two groups, trailing after each other in fluid lines, eventually overlapping and combining to form two larger, even more exotic cranes.

The cranes flew low over the audience, causing a couple of guests to duck and shriek with delight. As the cranes reached the stage once more, they combined into a glowing, fiery phoenix that blasted a ray of fire over the heads of the audience.

Illusory fire, Dani noticed. She felt none of the heat that would have come with an actual fire.

She thought she saw Lae’zel faintly roll her eyes.

Though their tricks were all flash and no substance, they were at least marginally more entertaining than the trio that often set up shop just outside of Sorcerous Sundries—Salamander and the two Astoundos or whoever. Dani had cast silence over them more than once just to give the plaza a minute of calm and quiet because they were so godsdamned loud with their magic tricks. They always threatened to call the Flaming Fist on her when they stepped out of the silence bubble, but every Flaming Fist stationed in the plaza was more than happy to ignore the trio’s outrage. Rolan, the great wizard of Ramazith Tower and new owner of Sorcerous Sundries, was also content to turn a blind eye whenever it happened.

The perks of being one of Rolan's best friends, of course.

As the phoenix balled itself up into one large orb that exploded into glittering fireworks, Dani giggled and leaned closer to Gale to quietly say, “It reminds me of Rolan’s magic show back at that party we held in camp. After saving the Emerald Grove? He was doing those silly prestidigitation light tricks for Cal and Lia, remember?”

“Mm, my memory of that night is a little hazy on details such as those,” Gale admitted, turning to give her a gentle smile. “I spent most of the evening watching you and wishing I had a touch more courage to tell you how much I admired you.”

She could feel her face warming under his unexpectedly sincere words, but she smiled and lightly tapped the beak of his mask. “You did. I distinctly remember you comparing me to Tara.”

“It was a compliment—high praise, in fact!”

She just laughed, looping her arm with his again. He shook his head at her, torn between amusement and sincerity.

“Trust me,” he said. “There was so much more I wanted to say back then. So much more I wanted to do. But with all that was going on…and the orb so unstable at the time…” He trailed off. But he didn’t need to finish. She understood.

“It all worked out in the end,” she said, brushing the backs of her fingers along his bearded jaw. She tilted her head to accommodate their masks and kissed him sweetly as the fireworks over the audience showered down glittering sparks. She felt him smile against her lips as he followed one kiss with another, and then another.

There was love in every movement of his lips and she tried to convey as much love back. To let him know that no matter what he might think, there was nothing to regret about the choices they made, the choices that led to them being there, in that moment, sharing a kiss beneath a shower of sparkling fireworks.

But of course it couldn’t last.

“Goodness me, a year together hasn’t damped the fires of passion, I see. I’m almost nauseous.”

Dani pulled away from Gale to roll her eyes affectionally at Astarion, who had conveniently reappeared, smirking, at her side. “If you want me to kiss you, you can just ask, Astarion.”

She knew he wouldn’t, or that if he did it would just turn into banter that would make Gale’s ears blush. It was one of her favorite ways to tease her husband, by poking at his secret jealous side.

Sure enough, Gale coughed slightly, trying to turn it into a clearing of his throat. “Dani—“

“Or did you want a kiss from my husband? All you have to do is ask him. He’s right there.”

“Dani. Gods above…”

Astarion chuckled and adjusted his gloves. “As tempting as both offers sound, I will have to decline. Only the most deserving get a kiss from these lips, you know.”

While Dani feigned an offended scoff, he flicked his crimson gaze over the crowd before leaning in and lowering his voice. “I don’t suppose you’ve discovered anything interesting?”

She sobered quickly. “Just some creepy mirrors. You?”

“Not a single hidden room or juicy secret on this first floor, and I find that highly suspicious. These people wouldn’t know scandalous gossip if it was twirling its frilly underclothes beneath their noses. Everything they talk about is so...mundane.” He paused. “What’s wrong with the mirrors? I haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary.”

Dani briefly explained some of the figures she had seen, but when the three of them looked at the mirrors in this room, none of them saw anything strange. She could just barely see her and Gale’s masked faces behind the crowd, and Astarion, of course, didn’t reflect at all.

With her attention directed back toward the stage and the mirrors behind it, she couldn’t help but focus briefly on the performers as they cleared the air of magical light shows and accepted the crowd’s smattering applause with gracious bows. She glanced between them and their reflections to try and catch any differences, but there were none. She pursed her lips and focused on the performers instead, tuning in a little late to the words they were saying.

“—our final act,” said one of the performers, “a daring, dangerous, diabolical little trick for only the bravest of souls. Who will volunteer? Who will risk it all to become the star of the masquerade? We assure you, a great reward is in store for the brave soul who steals the show with this last trick!”

The star? A great reward? Dani couldn’t deny she was more than a little tempted, despite knowing she shouldn’t trust anything that was happening in this upside-down masquerade ball. She turned to Astarion instead, giving him her best eyebrows-raised, expectant, you will won’t you darling? expression that her mask could let her have, hoping he would get the hint. He blinked back at her, nonplussed, before understanding lit up his eyes.

“No. No. No.” He held up a finger. “I won’t fall for that again. I refuse to repeat the Dribbles debacle.”

She sputtered a half-indignant laugh. “I volunteered for Dribbles. Under threat of death. From you,” she lightly poked a finger in Astarion’s chest, “not Dribbles.”

“And you got a thigh full of Buddy’s sharp teeth for all your, ah, heroic efforts, as I recall,” Gale murmured, looking amused.

“Exactly, and I still have the scars to prove it. So it’s Astarion’s turn.” She batted her eyelashes playfully at him. “Please?”

Astarion groaned. “Must I? Didn’t you say it was Shadowheart and Lae’zel’s job to investigate this room? Why not convince one of them to risk their necks?”

“As if either one of them can be bullied into taking part in a corny magic show.”

Astarion pointed to himself with both hands, looking incredulous. “And I can?”

“Come on, how bad can it be?” Dani asked, grinning and gesturing toward the stage.

As if on cue, the main performer beckoned to the audience. “Come, come, there must be someone brave enough to try? All we ask is for one courageous volunteer to dedicate one minute of their time. One single moment.”

“There, a minute,” Astarion said, flinging out his hand toward the stage and only barely missing an audience member. “Seems right up your alley, Dani, entertainer that you are.”

“Ooh, scared you won’t last a minute, Astarion?” Dani teased, grinning and elbowing him in the side. “Worried you won’t be able to perform?”

Gale stifled a laugh behind another cough while Astarion gave an exaggerated gasp and pressed his splayed fingers to his black-and-red-clad chest, saying, “Excuse you, darling, but these days I only perform for those I deem worthy of my time and attention. I wouldn’t give those two the time of day, much less anything more.”

“I know, I know,” Dani said, giggling. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

Astarion clicked his tongue in faux disappointment as he turned to face the performers again, only for his expression to shift. “Oh gods,” he murmured. He suddenly looked a little ill.

Dani followed his gaze back to the stage, her smile faltering. Sometime during their banter, the performers had removed the cloth over the object on stage to reveal a tall, skinny wardrobe, exactly the height and width to fit an average person. When the performer opened the wardrobe door, the darkened interior beckoned like an empty coffin.

Dani bit her lip. All desire to tease and cajole Astarion into volunteering vanished in an instant, faced with the cramped interior of the wardrobe on stage. Even she wasn’t blunt or cruel enough to suggest he be the one to step inside such a small space, given all he had been through in the last 200 years. She wasn’t even willing to step in there herself, and she couldn't profess to have been locked in a coffin-sized space before.

He could.

“On second thought, someone else should volunteer,” she said. She lightly took his arm, loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to, but trying to silently comfort and apologize at the same time. But he barely seemed to notice, his gaze warily fixed on the performers and their conjured wardrobe.

After a second or two, someone raised a gloved hand over the heads of the audience and the crowd of onlookers broke into a brief applause. The main performer bowed low and beckoned the volunteer on stage.

“At last! You, my friend, are surely the bravest man in the room. Come up and prepare yourself.”

Whoever he was, the volunteer was a man of average height and build, his features hidden entirely by a full-faced mask that was mostly square, save for the sharp point of the chin. Once on stage, he bent his head to listen to the second performer whispering instructions to him while the first addressed the audience.

“Watch and be amazed, honored guests, as this courageous man steps inside the wardrobe to await his fate” the performer said. “Ah, but which fate? A miraculous escape or a wretched demise?”

As the crowd cheered and hissed their approval or disapproval of either option, the atmosphere of the room seemed to shift. No longer did Dani feel like she was in a room of bland, boring attendees. She was a little alarmed when many of them seemed in favor of the man’s wretched demise. Who were these people?

“This is but a simple piece of furniture, my friends,” the performer continued, knocking on the side of the wardrobe, their knuckles rapping sharply against the wood. “It’s made of sturdy mahogany, with no tricks, no magical reinforcements, no false backs, no hidden panels, no secret teleportation runes, and more importantly, no way out once we’ve locked it up tight with a little arcane lock. Just watch the mirrors if you think we’re trying to fool you! If our brave man emerges unscathed, a great prize from Lord Dormire is his for the taking. The question is…will he survive long enough to claim the reward?”

The crowd murmured and shifted with interest, but Dani’s stomach was in knots. She tightened her hold on Astarion’s arm and reached for Gale’s hand, weaving her fingers with his and holding on tightly.

If this were any other magic show, any basic street performance, any other party, she could convince herself that this trick wouldn’t go horribly wrong. She’d seen more than her fair share of street magic and illusion shows. But Dormire’s servants had already magically fastened masks to their faces and locked them inside the manor to await his appearance. There were strange things going on with mirrors, and probably other mysterious things she hadn’t even noticed yet. All of it screamed danger to her, and she wasn’t sure whether to prepare for a horrible accident or to ready an offensive attack.

Gale’s hand tightened on hers and Astarion shifted his stance, not pulling away from her touch but placing himself at the ready. Both men on either side were tense, their eyes glued to the wardrobe, just the same as her. For now, all they could do was watch.

The man climbed inside the wardrobe, facing the audience. There was no way to guess what he was thinking behind his blank mask as the performers closed the door over him and cast arcane lock, the glyphs illuminating the surface of the wardrobe. She could only hope the second performer had given him good instructions and reassured him he would be somehow safe.

She wasn’t sure how much the audience was aware of the various properties of specific spells, but she had spent too much time around Gale not to know a thing or two. The arcane lock would reinforce the wardrobe, she knew, so it would take twice as much strength or power to damage the wardrobe now—from the outside or the inside. If the man hoped to brute force his way out, he would be practically helpless. But it also meant that whatever the performers did to the wardrobe would be less effective…in theory.

The main performer gave a flourish with one hand, conjuring a small hourglass in their palm, and then held up one finger with their other hand. “One minute. Our brave volunteer need only survive one teensy little minute. Let us see what he can endure in so brief a time.”

Dani clenched her teeth together. One minute had been a joke to her before, but she knew how long a minute actually could be. One minute in battle could sometimes feel like an hour. There were moments when time seemed to slow down as she fought to cast spells and dodge attacks. But at the same time, a minute was so blessedly quick she was almost hopeful this wouldn’t actually end badly.

She held her breath as the main performer turned over the hourglass, stepping back to give the audience a full view of the wardrobe. The second performer flung out their hands with dramatic flare, casting a version of magic missile that somehow, impossibly, created dozens of missiles in various colors that swirled around the wardrobe before striking the wood with colorful bursts and loud bangs. Though the doors rattled and the wardrobe shook, it didn’t splinter or move.

Gale gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Just an illusion, my love. A more creative variation of their earlier light shows.”

She nodded, but dared not look away just yet. Despite his words, she could feel the tension in Gale’s arm. He wasn’t letting his guard down yet, either.

The audience clapped as the lights and bangs from the missiles faded, revealing an unscathed wardrobe, only for many of them to gasp as the second performer snapped their fingers and the wardrobe burst into flame. It was only a small comfort to realize that despite the convincing sound of crackling flames, she couldn’t feel the heat of the fire. Just like with the phoenix flame, it was just another semi-convincing illusion. She flicked her gaze between the wardrobe and the hourglass, watching the sand stream down into the lower bulb of the glass. About thirty seconds left, she guessed.

A glance at Shadowheart and Lae’zel showed the two of them watching with intense looks, as well. No more blithe or feigned interest. Both looked ready to attack if need be.

She focused back on the wardrobe as the audience clapped again, the flames whirling around the wardrobe and disappearing with a wash of smoke that hovered around the stage. The second performer took a second to bow before turning to face the wardrobe once more. The sand in the hourglass was running low. With only seconds left, what could they possibly—

She gasped involuntarily as the performer made one last gesture and a swirling tornado of spectral daggers surrounded the wardrobe. Alarm bells rang off in her head. Cloud of Daggers? That spell ignored armor to cut deeply into whoever stood or walked into the vortex of spinning blades—it would surely pass through the wardrobe to cut through the person inside.

If it were not an illusion. The problem was, it was much harder to tell this time around.

She tightened her hold on Gale’s hand and Astarion’s arm, gripping almost painfully as she watched the daggers spin and whirl around and through the wardrobe. There were no cries of pain, no screams of anguish, so maybe…?

“It’s just an illusion,” she whispered to herself. “Just an illusion, just an illusion…”

The audience was rapt with attention, all eyes on the wardrobe and the cloud of daggers as the seconds ticked by, until at last the first performer holding the hourglass held up a hand.

“Enough!”

The second volunteer snapped their fingers, banishing away the cloud of daggers. Dani dare not look away now. If that volunteer had so much as a single scratch…

“One minute, as promised,” said the first performer, reaching for the latch of the left-side door. “Shall we see how our bold volunteer has fared?”

Dani held her breath as the second performer reached for the other latch. Together, they swung open the doors revealing—

A perfectly unharmed man in a mask. Not a scratch to be seen.

The audience burst into applause and Dani finally relaxed, loosening her hold on both Gale’s hand and Astarion’s arm. So the daggers had been an illusion after all. She half-smiled, ready to admit that she’d been fooled, as the performers dismissed the wardrobe into thin air.

Only to stifle a scream as she saw, reflected in the mirror, a different man than the one that had volunteered, one who was covered head to toe in deep, lacerated wounds, his blood flowing freely onto the stage below. A white-scaled dragonborn clad in black, he collapsed to his knees with such force that his blood flecked onto the glass.

She heard Gale swear and Astarion stiffen with shock, but she couldn’t look away, even as some part of her was relieved to know they saw what she was seeing too. They watched, horrified, as the dragonborn reared back his head with a silent roar and turned to swipe in his clawed hand at one of the performers. The audience in their room was clapping and whistling as the masked volunteer took a bow and accepted something from the performers, the sound out of touch with the horror playing out in the mirrors' reflection. How did no one else see?

In sharp contrast, the audience in the mirror became a tangle of jeering onlookers and frightened guests pushing and pulling at each other while the performers tried to dodge the frenetic attacks of the white-scaled dragonborn. All at once he pulled a dagger from somewhere inside his black coat, the movements spattering more blood on the glass.

One masked man pushed his way to the front of the crowd, leaping onto the stage and taking hold of the second performer. Dani gasped as the new masked figure pulled the performer’s head back by their hair, baring their neck, her mind at once too shocked to make sense of the sight and yet recognizing exactly who he was, right as he sank his fangs into the performer’s neck.

Astarion.

Her vampire best friend was visible in the mirror's image.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #my fic #oc #dani #meridan zavrai #gale #gale dekarios #astarion #shadowheart #lae'zel #bg3 companions

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juliana-jones · 1 year ago

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7 Snippets 7 People

I was tagged by @writingmaidenwarrior, thanks!

I'm going to post some pretty random stuff that I've written recently, a lot during writing games. Not sure if any of these will go anywhere, but here they are! Warning for a bit of emotional whiplash as some are silly and some are a bit dark.

1. A writing game snip

“Drink this,” she says, and holds a dark pottery mug full of steaming liquid to my mouth.

The pain of my wounds has left me with little ability to be suspicious or guarded. I dragged myself here and threw myself on the mercy of this hedge witch, so now

I don’t think, I just drink.

“You’re going to have to spend some time as an axolotl,” she says, and if I hadn’t just finished swallowing, I would have served up a comical spit-take.

“That leg is past saving,” she continues seriously. “As an axolotl, you’ll be able to grow it back, though.”

“I’m sorry, a what?” I ask. I’m starting to feel quite nauseous.

“Don’t worry,” she says. She’s not what I expected for a hedge witch; she’s young, and rather pretty, thick curly brown hair and a round face. “I have several axolotl familiars, so there’s a tank set up already, with some friends. You won’t be lonely, and it’ll probably only take a few weeks, anyway.”

“A few wee…” My protestation is cut off by a strange vertiginous sensation. My eyesight blurs. I don’t have a few weeks, my bastard of a step-brother is usurping my throne as we speak, but I don’t have time to tell her before the room starts to spin.

2. A snip from "fucked up fantasy world" WIP

The Invocation Chamber is small, square, windowless, and spotless. Everything is polished white marble. The floor slopes just slightly down towards the center of the room. There’s a low slab of the same white marble there, and on the slab, a naked man, arms and legs tied down to metal rings set into the stone. He looks unconscious, or drugged.

On either side of the slab, Kharis notices with dawning apprehension, there are drains set into the floor.

3. A writing game snip

“Everyone makes fun of Florida Man,” she says, “but these are real people, dealing with real, serious problems. What if it was your brother who got turned into a ridiculous headline and memed across Twitter for a week?”

She has a point. I can’t tell her I’m here because the story is true. I also can’t tell her how I know it’s true.

“I understand your concerns,” I say, keeping my voice gentle as if talking to a spooked horse, “but I’m not here in an official capacity. I do want to ask your brother some more questions about what happened, but not for the news. Just for purely personal reasons. Have you talked to him lately?”

4. Another writing game snip

The planet I grew up on has a synchronous orbit; half of it is always facing toward its sun. With a little terraforming, vast swathes of continental landmass above and below the equator on that sunlit half became perfectly graduated climactic zones ripe for the cultivation of an astounding variety of tea. The East India Company dissolved over three centuries before terraforming began, but that didn’t mean the human desire for extracting resources for profit had abated any. Nor had the human desire to drink tea. My intent here is not to dissuade you from enjoying the small pleasures in life; cognitive dissonance is a survival strategy under intergalactic capitalism, after all. No. My intent is to start a war.

5. A WIP about clones

Dear myself, in the next ten iterations,

Being born into a decuplet, if we can be said to be born instead of decanted, is an honor, as you all know. Out of all the hundreds of billions of people in the galaxy, we've been chosen as versatile and intelligent enough to be worthy of cloning, foolish and egotistical enough to agree to it.

6. ???

The Gulf of Mexico Oxygenation Plant failed three years ago. It failed because of me.

7. WIP, working title is "Date Night"

Mandibles like two handsaws rasping against each other, segmented exoskeleton gleaming from anointing oil, she rests in the comfortable padding of her chamber. The attendants have already taken the brood to the creche, cared for her and cleaned her, polished and pampered her. That's when she prefers to see me; when she's presentable.

I wish she'd let me come sooner. I'd spend time with her in any state of disarray. We have so little of it.

She turns to me as I enter and I smile at her, keeping my lips closed so as not to show my teeth. The sight of exposed bone is disturbing, so I temper my expression accordingly. Still, I can hardly keep my delight from splitting my face in half.

She's beautiful. Not like me and the rest of the humans.

~~~

I will tag: @talesofsorrowandofruin, @asablehart, and @broodparasitism

#original fiction #writing #original writing #writeblr #fantasy #science fiction #tag games #nightfallwip

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writer-and-artist27 · 11 months ago

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hi vy! i'm a huge fan of passing days, especially your salem chapters! i was hoping you could clear something up about the latest chapter with mash and lancelot. i'm a huge fan of the fate round table (especially gawain! so happy he cameod in this!), and i'm really curious what you were using to base your dynamic between mash and lancelot on? i always thought they were on pretty good speaking terms post-camelot (their little moment in servafest especially was pretty fun imo, i loved that event), but i wasn't aware there was a time where she was too nervous to talk to him about galahad? was there an interlude i missed? i dont have a lot of servants so its possible i missed something big. thanks!

('へ') Well. Hello to you too, Anon. (This was a much better ask to start the morning on.)

Now then. What I used to base the dynamic on Mash and Lancelot on? A mix of the FGO events and real life.

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

For FGO? It started with the recent Halloween Castle Csejite Trilogy Recap event back in October, where it had me play through Halloweens 1 and 2 for the first time, and seeing how Mash was calling out Lancelot back then bothered me a little. Saber Lancelot even canonically disguised himself as his Berserker self so that Mash wouldn't notice him, and she still kept back-talking him. Add in how Summer 3 and 4 had her be suspicious of him, and even when Lostbelt 6 had a small throwaway conversation between them when fighting the berserk Barghest (something about Mash wanting him to focus on the fight), it still bothered me. So I wanted to do something about that.

Especially when there has been no on-screen moment that showed Mash talking to him about Galahad outside of the second Camelot movie, and the films themselves had their flaws in cutting out things.

Real life, though... I took from three specific relationships for Mash and Lancelot.

Me and my dad, my big brother and my dad, and my dad's own relationships with both my maternal grandfather and paternal grandfather - his dad.

Mash's entire dialogue, Lancelot's own grief, and everything else in the chapter is ripped from conversations I had with my dad; the reactions from how my big brother had to smooth tension out with my dad over his weight (let it be said fatphobia was rampant in my house and it didn't help the self-esteem of me or my brother when growing up); and how my dad actually admitted to me he saw my maternal grandfather being more of a father than my paternal grandfather ever was because of my paternal having been... troubled in life.

And I wouldn't know how my paternal grandfather would have reacted because he died a year before I was born - a few days after my brother was born, in fact. All I know of my paternal grandfather was how he was the leader of a very dysfunctional family, who actively yelled at my father to an extent, even smoking and gambling funds away when the house was already poor. My paternal grandfather apparently didn't even see my dad off when he left home at 18 to try to get away from being drafted into the Vietnamese military - only my paternal grandmother did.

Lancelot and Mash had it easy in comparison. Because at least I could give them a happy ending. With me, my dad, and my big brother? We're still a work in progress for the "happy end" part. But there's no yelling anymore at least, and we've had lots of talks that led to apologies and some more understanding. So that's something.

#vy says something #writer thoughts #asks #ask #thank you anon #passing days #lancelot de luc (saber)#mash kyrielight #or sometimes real life seeps more into the work than others realize #long post

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amethystunarmed · 11 months ago

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20 questions for fic writers

Thank you @marypsue for tagging me! (I'm sorry it is so late) This got VERY long, so I will put it under a cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

54, my god.

2. What’s your total word count?

188,134. Which seems both enormous and not enough lol.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, I'm in a major Hatchetfield kick. Those musicals have me by the throat. But I am also working on a Stranger Things series too! However, I'm probably most known for my My Hero Academia stuff, I know a couple of those absolutely did numbers when I wasn't looking.

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Oh I'm pretty sure I know. *checks Statistics* Yep I was right. My top five (and six and seven) are all from my Truth series, which is a MHA Dabihawks AU where Hawks joins the League of Villains.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try! Sometimes I get overwhelmed and fall behind but I swear I always read them and love them and am so touched.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ummmm... Deadass, I think it was the first fic I ever posted, back in high school. It was a Doctor Who fanfic, about a Weeping Angel who feel in love with a human, and tried to stop killing for him, but was so hungry she ended up killing him instead. It's almost ten years old, but you can find it here.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I am once go back deep in my archives for this one. Back in 2015, I posted a Supernatural fic that was pure fluff, Karaoke. It was my idea of a series finale where everything was beautiful for once. Riiiiip.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I definitely have before, but only like once or twice and I immediately blocked them. It is always heartbreaking though. :(

9. Do you write smut?

Once that I posted! Though I may have an unfinished draft or two, lol

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yes, absolutely! My crossover tend to be characters experiencing scenarios from other universes, rather than character meeting.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Mostly by the AO3 scraping stuff, though I have found some suspicious posts with stuff from the Truth series on other sites, but nothing really definite.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes and I dropped my phone when the request came in. I was so excited.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah I have!!! My go-to partner in crime is @little-engineer-who-cant, we've been writing together since middle school.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Oh god, this is hard. Ummm... I suppose the first ship I ever really super got into was Ten/Rose in Doctor Who, so it holds a special place in my heart.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

Honestly, one I really loved was an Adventure Zone Wicked au. There were a lot of great concepts in that one, but I never really got anywhere with it.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue! I love dialogue. It tends to be what I write first and then I go back and fill in the blanks.

I feel like I'm also pretty good at exploring concepts, like, taking things to their furthest extreme and exploring what it means in the universe.

Also angst. I love angst.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I just want you all to know what I am seeing in my head, not have to describe it. I really have to work at imagery, and making scenes feel alive.

Also fuck fight scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language?

I would do it if I felt confident that I or another person could edit it to be accurate. If I am google translating or something, I'd rather just do English italics or say what characters the language are speaking. I don't want to butcher another language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

As mentioned previously, the first fic I published was for Doctor Who but god as a kid I wrote myself into stories all the time! Should have known I'd end up a writer. Probably Yu-Gi-Oh or Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

Ohhhhhh these are so hard. Ummmm... To be honest, I am so incredibly proud of I Need a Shovel to Love Him. It is one of my recent Hatchetfield fics and is an exploration of grief, and it probably the closest a piece of writing has ever been to exactly what I pictured in my head when I wrote it.

But! Trying to ignore the bias for recent works, So Few Men Can Carry It is probably up there. It is an OC focused story in the Truth universe, and I loved discussing healthcare in a world with professional superheroes and plan to do more original stuff with that concept, because I love it so much.

I'm going to tag @little-engineer-who-cant again, as well as @snarky-wallflower and @starpirateee. (Does anyone else like to be included in these? I need to make a list!)

#amethystuncensored #tag game #my writing #my fanfic

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horce-divorce · 9 months ago

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Bel's been no-contact with his transphobic, abusive mom since she evicted us in July of last year, and we've both had her blocked on social media, which was previously the only place i had contact with her. she got a hold of my phone number somehow and texted me yesterday, which is actually very funny, neither of us is upset by that. we fully expected it at some point.

more importantly tho, she's not one to sit on information like that for 6+ months, so now i have to figure out how she got my number or rather, whom she got it from all of a sudden. my number IS connected to facebook/insta for 2fa reasons, but i just checked and it's private. plus i already have her blocked on there, and, once again, she's not one to sit on information like this. all of which is making me deeply, deeply suspicious of, again, WHOM gave her my number. let me just say there's not too many likely candidates to choose from and my own parents are very high on the list of suspects.

there's some other unrelated stuff going on as well but taken all together I think it might be time to lock down ye olde horce-divorce blog and make a new side, just in case either of our mothers ever find it. heads up to my mutuals ig lol

#me #prsnl

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liopleurodean · 1 year ago

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Season 12, Episode 6: Celebrating The Life Of Asa Fox

Oh, Canada

Rip this kid

...Mary?

What was she doing in Canada?

This was like. Three years before she died. Why was she hunting?

There are other hunters

He's still a hot mess, but okay

Nice

And now he's gonna start hunting

Montage!

Yeah, sure

Whoa. That was abrupt

Supernatural!

Yikes

Cute

...I'm pretty sure Omaha is closer to Lebanon than Sioux Falls at that point. Like, almost 100% sure.

Sounds great

HE KILLED HITLER

Absolutely!

Dean, you look invested

Dude. Seriously. Not cool

Poor Dean

Sam. Privacy

She okay?

He's a hunter

Nice. Not sure how he thought he'd get away with that one

Oh, Jody...

Nah, it's their pleasure

Sure.

Canada!

Quite an eclectic mix of rides

Dean and I -> same brainwave

Indeed

Asa's mom?

Yeah, I bet

Everyone is

Sure...

He can handle himself

Thee Dean Winchester.

More like a hundred

Dude, no

Unfortunately no

The standard, I assume

I should've known

Interesting

Awesome

Celebrities

Wow. That's a deep cut

Buddy...

At least they get it

Not when you're living it

Dude.

Please? I like them

Where'd he get an angel blade?

Makes sense

Dean...

Mmmmmmm

I am. Dying inside

Oh boy

Wow.

Oh yeah, remember Crowley?

Spooky

Oh no

Dean, stop talking

Mary!

Oh boy, this'll be good

Yeah...

That's the word for it

I love Jody

Makes sense

Dean.

She just barely missed him

Dean, come on

Not really

Perhaps

It wouldn't be the same

I think Dean needed the perspective

Long story

She's the one who got him into hunting

Oh boy

I don't know

That's not everything

Not really

Mary...

Finally, someone says it

It's in her blood

Poor guy

Oh no

Seems to be a hunter trait

Demons.

How does he know?

Okay...

Asa warded the whole place

Billie?

There's the clue

That's horrifying

How can they not hear him?

That's weird

Dean's not even in the house

The demon planned

She's being annoying

She is possessed

Yikes

That's not good

You can't just leave Lorraine!

Fine

Neat trick

Definitely not

He's used to people not knowing things

Dang it, I should've known

No kidding

It's been awhile since we've heard that

Oh no

Girl, keep it together

Great, now the power is out

Man, that's so weird. By this point, the hunting world at large knows about angel blades, but they've never seen a demon blade. It's all backwards

It'll come

Smart Dean truthing!!!

I feel like I've heard this music before. At least, the chord progression is familiar

That'll be handy

Harder to memorize

It's in Jody. She's being suspicious

Great question

Not without proof. It's definitely Jody

Right

Why would they do that?

Fantastic

It wasn't on purpose

Ooh, yikes

Oh, Jody...

Here we go

Keep it going

Seriously?

That was quick

Yeah, I bet

That's so stupid

Wow.

He'll never have a community again

I suppose so

That's true

I don't think that's what she needed

Seriously, Billie?

Uh, no. That wasn't their fault

Take it up with Amara

That's not what she means

Is she really considering it?

There it is

Yup. Winchesters

Sure.

Absolutely

#ashla chick flick moments #supernatural #season 12 episode 6 #celebrating the life of asa fox

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faebaetch · 2 years ago

Text

I'm so fucking distraught and so fucking angry.

This entire week it's been "yeah, it feels like he's pulling away. Yeah, he's not flirting with me anymore. BUT, I know him and I trust him. He wouldn't have used my affection for some quick validation. He wouldn't talk shit about this girl then immediately date her again. He wouldn't not tell me that he was seeing her again and just let me be under this false illusion that we had a chance of working things out. You're being fucking crazy and overthinking and being suspicious because you're insecure but you trust him and you know he wouldn't do that to you."

And yknow, I was wrong.

I'm angry that he let me there to fucking stew in my own anxiety. He knew I was excited about us. He knew I was interested. I was texting him daily, I was flirting with him, I fucking thanked him for texting me first because it made me feel important and I told him I was nervous that I was bothering him so the effort on his part meant a lot. I made plans to see him again quickly.

And yeah, it would have still hurt but I didn't even get a text saying they were back together? I just got ignored and stiff answers. Enough to make me ask what the fuck I did wrong. But he wouldn't leave me hanging like that so obviously I'm just overthinking.

I had to ask and fucking stupid me. "I'm not upset I'm just overthinking and want some clarification because I want there to be good communication 🙃" basically "I know I'm being silly and overreacting to nothing, right?"

It's just infuriating now, y'know. It's not even that he's dating her. You do you, go find your fucking happiness. I hope her shitty head is enough for you. Also, how dare you talk shit about this girl and then go back and convince her you care again.

In part, it's that what the fuck were you waiting for? I texted him late Sunday night. My guess is they got together Wednesday or Thursday? I was supposed to come over to see him, to hook up with him, Monday. So what, was he going to wait to tell me until I came onto him and then he'd set me straight? Let me feel humiliated and a weird sense of shame for assuming he still wanted me? Then I'd have the great decision of attempt to pretend everything is fine and nah that didn't just crush my insides, let's just sit and eat chipolte 6 feet apart while we talk about work OR I'd be unable to keep it together and be even MORE humiliated and sob in front of him and then leave immediately and drive my ass home after basing my day around seeing him and being so fucking excited OF COURSE I told everyone I was going over there. Or idk was he going to wait until I said I was on my way? The thing is, there was no thought process. He probably just hoped it'd go away and he'd deal with it if it came up but it wasn't a big deal to him so 🤷‍♀️ whatever.

It's also that I have been going through a lot lately. In this, I have realized and I told him that suddenly the world isn't good anymore and I'm suspicious of everyone. I now think everyone could potentially hurt me and realize that good intentions are harder to come across than you'd think.

I told him that he was safe though. That no matter what, I trusted him. I told him that it was part of why it was hard to move on because I can't trust anyone like I do him and I felt guilty for being suspicious of his intentions for a moment.

But yknow, we've now knocked that list down even farther. And now I don't even know how to go forward.

How do I try to date again? I did it once, I got assaulted. I went back to my safe person, the man I was seeing for 5 years, and I got used and discarded. No one is fucking safe.

And so I cut him off. I'm choosing peace and I'm closing that door. I know he doesn't but I hope he fucking feels bad.

The sad part is I still want him to text me. I still want to see him. I still want him. But that's the fucking problem, isn't it. And that's why I took his number out of my phone.

"Am I the issue in my relationships? Because I feel like I'm the common denominator." And I fucking fawned over him and told him how fucking wonderful he was and reassured him. The next day is when he started being cold so I must have really helped his self confidence to rekindle things with her.

I'm just so angry. How fucking dare you.

#personal #journal #mental health #therapy #gross ex #tw: sa mention #absolute garbage man

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eunoiathewriter · 3 years ago

Text

P. PARKER X F!READER

Sypnosis: MJ's top 6 photos of her friends (y/n) and Peter. But every photo gets sweeter, and for every photo, the friendship changes.

Word count: 3.8k

MJ had always found some kind of love in taking photos, to capture the moment in just a second and it could then be looked back at for years and relived as many times as you pleased. Whether it was the landscape, something completely random or people she took photos off, she loved it.

It was no news that MJ took photos of her friends, they were the best of thing that had happend to her. (y/n) (l/n), Harry Osborn, Ned Leeds and Peter Parker were all the people that had a affect on MJ none other had. She left the comfortable bubble she'd been in most her life, and she wouldn't lie if she said it was the best thing in the whole wide world.

However, MJ always felt there was something more to be of the (l/n) girl and the Parker boy, both of them had been friends for years.

She noticed the little things to start with. How either of their eyes would avert to the floor if they glazed at the other for too long, Peter's face flushing crimson whenever (y/n) happened to place a hand on his shoulder or arm.

There was the excessive amount of overprotectiveness radiating off of Peter. It wasn't something that seemed to go noticed by (y/n) herself, but her bestfriend noticed. MJ would always give Peter suspicious looks whenever she saw his grip tighten on a pencil if (y/n) was paired with another boy, mostly Flash.

Then there was the more noticeable things that even Harry and Ned couldn't overlook. There was the sudden linking of pinky fingers, instead of holding hands.

All of this made MJ start to question whether the brunette boy and (h/c) girl had feeling for one another. She almost thought if ut as if it was a unspoken thing between her two friends, but like they both knew somehow about how the other felt.

This was what made MJ start to take secret photos of them, not only did she find them cute, but she too found it would be fun to see how they were to evolve during the upcoming weeks or months.

And now there was twelve photos that she thought showed perfectly how they evolved.

Picture one: Linked pinkies

As any school corridor when it was break, students crowded the place, trying to get to their next lessons. Friends standing around and talking. The normal things students did between lessons.

(y/n) sighed heavily as three of her friends were trying to argue on which movie to watch. Ned and Harry being dead set on Star Wars whilst MJ wanted to watch something else, something like twilight. Not because she liked the movie, but so them all could make fun of it.

"Come on! We have to watch Star Wars!" Ned exclaimed, hands moving around as he did.

"I'm with Ned on this one," Harry nodded, leaning his arm in Ned's shoulder.

"Can't y'all come up with something else to watch? I don't wanna rewatch those three again," MJ rolled her eyes.

Peter, Ned and Harry had strictly on let them watch the three original movies from Star Wars. Something about staying true to the original even thought they had no bigger problem with the other six movies.

"You know there's nine movies right MJ?" (y/n) then turned towards the three as she was tired of their battering.

"Nine? We've only watched three," MJ crossed her arms at Harry and Ned who tried to play it off as if they didn't know.

"Yeah and that one The empire strikes back your favorite actress is in M," (y/n) made MJ become silent, a sly smirk on (y/n's) face as they now could probably watch her favorite of the nine movies.

"Why do you even wanna watch that?!" Harry poked (y/n's) back making her turn with a smile.

"'Cause one, young Anakin is good looking. Secondly," She put a second finger. "I too think Padmé is good looking,"

Harry sighed, looking between the two girls as (y/n) had finally closed her locker and taken out her books. Ned then seemd less against the idea.

"She has a point you know, Harry," Ned pointed out.

"Who has a point?" A familiar brunettes voice asked from behind his friends. All of them turned, smiling at Peter.

"Just that Padmé from Star Wars is good looking and we should totally watch The empire strikes back tonight." (y/n) gave a cheeky grin to Peter and his eyes flickered between Ned, Harry and MJ.

"Shouldn't we watch The phantom meance before at least?" Peter scrunched up his face at the mere thought of skipping a movie.

"You serious now dude?" Harry looked almost betrayed, "You don't wanna watch the original movies?!"

"I mean... isn't it time (y/n) and MJ get so say something about it all?" Peter questioned Harry, eyes at times flickering towards (y/n).

"Well yeah-" "Then it's settled! We watch The empire strikes tonight at your place Harry. Everyone okey with that? Good!" (y/n) cut off the Osborn boy, earning a glare.

Ned shrugged, saying it was no big deal to him. It was only fair for the girls to finally choose. Harry sulked as the five friends started to walk towards their only shared class together, science. Ned and Harry walking in the back, MJ in front of the two with Peter next to her at first and (y/n) in front of them.

Peter thought for a moment before walking up beside (y/n), smiling at her as she turned her head to look at him with questioning eyes.

"Are you okey? You seemd a bit, you know.. annoyed before," Peter asked kindly, earning a sigh from the girl.

"Well it was getting a bit old with them arguing about a movie," Peter nodded.

He wasn't sure how to keep up the conversation completely, but he'd noticed her seeming rather off lately, she wasn't really up for the banter Harry and MJ would have that usally keept her laughing.

"Are you sure there isn't anything more?" Peter asked once more, (y/n's) heart melted at the sweet boy, he had such a golden retriever kinda personality.

"I guess..." She sighed. "It's just been a lot with school lately but it's nothing a night with you guys won't solve,"

The way she looked at her as she said the last part made Peter's heart skip a beat before starting to beat quickly in his chest. Heat clearly rising to his cheeks.

They walked side by side in quiet afterwards. MJ who was behind the two idiots with crushes on one another was looking at her phone. Looking up actors of The empire strikes , and just like (y/n) promised, her favorite actress was playing in the movie as Padmé. She was hella gay for that woman.

But as MJ was about to say something to (y/n) infront of her, out of the corner of her eye she saw something. Lowering her phone slightly, she saw how Peter's hand slowly moved towards (y/n's), pinky brushing against her hand. Just then, (y/n) took her pinky and the two lined them together.

MJ was quickly on her phone again but going for the camera this time. Within seconds she had snapped a photo of the twos linked up pinkies, but that's when her mind started to think about how the two acted. Around one another...

Did they like one another.

Picture two: Subway nap

School had just ended, it was a long day for all of the five junior students. It had been a lot of work that day. Test after test had been done that day, and what was to the teacher fun about it all, it was tests none of the students knew about.

All students had been, for being some of the smartest students in New York, almost completely brain dead after the tests as there was not enough time to relax in between.

The five friends had decided days ago to spend their friday night at MJ's place, none of them were to cancel just because they were tired.

The thing was, to get home to MJ they had to take the subway, it wasn't a problem but it was twenty minute way there. All five of them had practically dragged themselves to sit down.

"I'm going to fall asleep once were at your place I swear," (y/n) sighed as she sat down next to Peter on a seat, leaning back and closing her eyes with a sigh.

"Your not alone," Harry mumbled as he got comfortable next to Ned on one of the seats.

"Let me guess," MJ started. "We gettin' pizza tonight?"

"Yup," She got from all four of them and only nodded, picking up the book she'd started a day before to read some of it.

Peter let out a breath of relief as he was happy to finally be out of school for the day, glancing to his side he saw (y/n's) eyes drooping a bit, like she was about to fall asleep. Peter slowly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, making (y/n's) eyes shoot open. Looking over at Peter.

"Sorry," Peter mumbled as he retracted his arm from around her shoulders. But (y/n's) eyes didn't leave him as she just watched him.

"I just thought," Peter put his back up in his lap, a sweatshirt making it soft. "You could lie down if you want to. You don't have to of course I just thought taht you looked really-"

Before he could say another word, (y/n) leaned down so her head laid on his backpack that was in his lap, the sweatshirt inside making it softer. She let out a sigh whilst closing her eyes, reluctantly Peter let his arm lay on her back.

When he felt her become less tense, Peter leaned his head against the window beside where they sat, closing his eyes and relaxing himself.

MJ who thought it had become all to quiet from the Parker boy and (l/n) girl glanced up from her book and saw the two. (y/n's) head in Peter's lap as she sat beside him, Peter leaning against the window with closed eyes.

"Well would you look at that," MJ said more to herself while taking out her phone, causing Harry and Ned to glance over at the pair.

"How long has that been going on?" Harry shot a pointed look towards the two.

"I have no idea man," Ned shook his head.

"I don't think there anything yet," MJ stated and snapped a photo of Peter and (y/n), smiling mischievously whole she did so.

"What do you mean anything yet?"

Picture three: Cooking

There was music playing in the kitchen as the sound of food being cooked was almost taking over the music. (y/n) and MJ was talking as they got ready the food, the boys sitting by the table waiting for the food to be done.

When all of the five friends decided to stay at once place it was either MJ and (y/n) that cooked together or it was the three boys taht cooked for the girls. It was a dynamic that worked, Peter balanced out the two idiots that only had the knowledge to cut up vegetables with his knowing of how to cook. MJ and (y/n) were in the boys minds master's at making food and they could o it within a short time.

"What are you two even making? Seems like nothing we've had before," Harry pushed himself up from his chair and walked up to the girls, looking over the (h/c) girls shoulder to see the the boiling water with pasta and a pan with what seemd to be carbonara.

"Pasta carbonara, shocked you've never had it Harry." (y/n) stated as she clearly remembered the boy saying he loved pasta.

"He just tried to get that Italian girls attention in school," MJ told with a eye roll as she set the table, taking her seat that was next to (y/n). Waiting for (y/n) to be done with the carbonara.

"Not true, Michelle!" Harry turned abruptly with a offended look. (y/n) glanced between Peter and Ned before shrugging and making sure she wasn't burning anything.

Peter looked at (y/n) then at his friends that were currently bickering about once again. Ned on his phone texting with Betty, it wasn't anything new.

He stood up from his seat and walked past Harry that stood leaned against the counter of Ned's Lola's kitchen, back against (y/n).

"How's it going?" Peter walked up behind (y/n), hand landing on the small of her back.

"Oh," She turned for a quick second. "Good, it's just another few minutes before done."

The brunette nodded, his hand staying on her lower back but he was unsure if he were supposed to remove it. He then leaned over her shoulder slightly, (y/n) could feel his breath fanning against her neck.

"Is there anything, Peter?" The mere use if his name made him wanna sink to the ground and become a puddle of water.

"I just ehmm..." His gaze landed on his feet as the question wasn't something he thought was appropriate to question. (y/n) had turned her head and was waiting patiently for the rest.

But instead of saying what he wanted, Peter's arms gently wrapped around her waist from behind, not pulling her closer or anything but to explain what he wanted to ask.

"It's okey," Her voice soft as there was a smile growing on her face, cheeks heating up. Peter let a shy smile start to tug on his lips as (y/n) turned back to cooking and his arms tightened just a little around her waist.

(y/n) let her left hand lay on top of Peter's arm that was around her waist. This made Peter's face flushing a deep crimson color and was happy that (y/n) couldn't see his face.

MJ who had stopped bickering with Harry had seen the two and quickly taken another photo of the two. It was as if they were dating, yet there was just not anything said between the two if they were. But it was clear that there was a relationship starting to form.

Picture four: No room

"Well where am I supposed to sit?" Peter glared at his four friends as they'd taken a table with only four chairs. One had been taken by another student so they could sit with their friends.

"I don't know, the floor?" Harry smiled sarcastically at Peter and motioned towards the floor between him and Ned.

"Just find a chair and bring it here man, it inst that hard." Ned told but also knew Peter didn't really dare walk around like a lost puppy just to find a chair to sit on. He was to shy for that.

"Or find somewhere and sit alone." MJ looked up from her food and too gave Peter a sarcastic smile. This wasn't new for the friend group, if one were to complain about something so simple, the rest of them just made fun and threw sarcastic comments at them.

"Or just sit on your girlfriend's lap, that's a thing you know." Harry casted a eye at (y/n), he and Ned had gotten in on MJ's theories. (y/n's) eyes widened as heat creapt up her neck, Peter's eyes also widening and mouth falling slightly agape.

"We're not dating." Peter quickly blurted out but Ned and Harry both started to laugh and wave their hands at Peter to dismiss his try.

"You know what, just come here." (y/n) sighed and pulled on Peter's t-shirt slightly, making him walk towards her. Peter looked at her before she pulled him down to sit on her lap, not really that bothered by it.

"So, you happy now Harry?" MJ glanced up at the boy and he just nodded at (y/n's) question.

There was no more said about the matter as they all started to eat, or (y/n) skipping over as Peter sitting on her lap stopped her from being able to eat.

Peter slightly relaxed back into (y/n), her hands looped around his waist, something that was quite new to him. Her hand laid falt against his stomach and Peter glanced down at her hands, smile gracing his lips.

In that exact moment, MJ was quick to get a photo. When she looked at it however it wasn't capturing (y/n) and Peter's faces, it wasn't a bad photo but she wanted their faces to be seen. She immediately stopped when (y/n) eyed her and just gave a tight-lipped smile before returning to her food

Geeze MJ, you were almost cought.

Photo five: Soccer pitch

MJ had tried to find (y/n) and Peter for the last hour, they had a free period all five of them yet the two of them were nowhere to be found. She had called (y/n) almost twenty times, left about five voice mails one which was just MJ threatening (y/n) to answer her phone.

Harry was walking around with Ned, trying to find the two missing friends also.

"Where could they even have gone? It's not like they're gonna skip," MJ sighed into the phone as she talked to Ned and Harry in the other side.

"I've been trying to call Peter but he canceled all of my calls and left all my messages on read." Harry said in frustration, almost sounding like Peter was his boyfriend.

"I think they've sneaked off somewhere, being all lovey-dovey." Ned spoke into Harry's phone for MJ to hear, it sounded as if he was annoyed but he wasn't. Ned was actually happy his two friends probably were getting together.

"I couldn't reach (y/n) either, you got any luck with that?" MJ questioned Harry, knowing him and (y/n) had known each other since early childhood.

"Nah, and she always, always, answers me." Harry had to say that since she'd gotten all lovey-dovey with Peter, (y/n) wasn't answering as fast anymore.

MJ rubbed her forehead, none of the two had told where they went, they just kinda disappeared so she had reason to be a bit worried. Mostly for (y/n) though. Ned and Harry was both talking on the other side of the phone, going over where they could be.

MJ looked out one of the windows of the school, it looked out over the soccer pitch, that when she spotted the two familiar figures in the distance. Lowering the phone from her ear she quickly went into the camera, taking a picture of the brown eyed boy and (e/c) eyed girls figures walking towards the school.

"You won't believe what I just found," MJ told Harry and Ned over the phone, still looking at the pair outside.

(y/n) and Peter held hands as they walked over the soccer pitch smiles on their faces. Peter was walking before (y/n), almost dragging her with him.

"Well, tell us."

Photo six: Kiss in the rain

This times, the photo MJ were to take was not one taken without knowing something were to happen. She, Ned and Harry all knew what was about to go down, they were all finally going to know whether these two could be more.

"When dose their class end?" Ned questioned as he picked up his phone to see what time it was. MJ looked at her phone and sighed.

"Their calss ended a minute ago." She told Ned and Harry simply let out a exasperated sigh.

It you were to ask how these three are as friends, let just say they are the definition of no privacy. They were way more invested in (y/n) and Peter's relationship more than anyone else. For the past two months they'd been waiting and waiting for the two to say they were a couple or something, but they were told nothing.

Peter had decided to man up today and actually tell the (h/c) girl his feelings. That's when he came clean to the others that he liked (y/n).

"Ah great," Harry groaned as he felt droplets of water fall down, the three walked to stand under a pair of trees where they could still see the pair once they came out.

"You'll survive," MJ told Harry with a roll of her eyes, phone ready to take that photo she wanted to take.

Peter and (y/n) had finally gotten out of class. Taking out their things from their lockers, Peter shot (y/n) glances from other side of the corridor as he took out his things, the girl not noticing.

He let out a deep breath while closing his locker. He didn't know how he was gonna do this, had no idea what to say or how to act. The past months of the close kind of relationship that him and (y/n) had was confusing to him. But Peter knew there was more than just friendship between them but never knew how to bring the subject to light.

"You don't Peter?" (y/n) broke his trance with a bright smile and kind eyes.

"Uh huh, yeah, let's go," Peter rambled, nodding. (y/n) was quick to take his hand hin hers, it made Peter gulp. They both walked in silence to one of the smaller exits, the one MJ, Ned and Harry was waiting across from.

"Hey where- Oh, it's raining," (y/n) cut herself off as she felt the droplets on her face as she looked up at the grey sky.

(y/n) walked forward a bit, down the stairs as she still held Peter hand and he walked with her.

"(y/n)," At her name she stopped on one if the steps lower than Peter. "I have to tell you something."

"Oh, okey," (y/n) turned with a smile, but as soon as her eyes meet his, her having to look up due to being a step lower than him, made Peter freeze.

"No, no, no, no," Peter shook his head and looked down.

"You can tell me Peter," She said with a reassuring look.

"Don't look at me like that, I just can't," Peter moved his hands as if they were to tell what he wanted to tell her and (y/n's) eyes scrunched together but she still held a smile on her lips.

"Shit," Peter mumbled to himself, but quickly he steod down with one of he feet to be at the same step as (y/n), leveling down to her.

Peter put his hands on her waist and leaned in, lips on top of hers. (y/n) was taken aback by this move but her eyes then fluttered close, hands moving up to his shoulders. She leaned deer head to the side, deepening the kiss and Peter smiled.

MJ stood on the other side of the road with Ned and Harry, internally cheering on her friend. She had already gotten a good photo of the two kissing, she was 100% gonna show these to the two now.

"He better treat her well," Harry crossed his arms, glaring at Peter from a distance as him and (y/n) had just pulled apart.

"Come on dude, it's Peter were talking about," Ned punched Harry's shoulder, knowing damn well no one was gonna hurt the other of them.

"Finally," MJ mumbled to herself, happier than she thought.

Anyway, per usual on new years day I've watched the movie Ivenhoe. And trust me when I say this, I never know why my family always dose it every year.

But just so y'all know, I have some requests to do so all of you know what's coming up next :)

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