#and yeah even the twins i find difficult to draw

[alicenpai]

about to clean up 12 characters wish me luck JDJHDJHDGDGF

#my art #my ocs #:) #long time no wip #last night i realized my twins were the 'person with blue eyes' meme and IM DYING #sometimes i dont know if i want to add gloves to the character or not #so like. so you might see me having drawn fingernails. but still coloured it in a non-skin tone LOL #im still trying to figure out some charas' names and designs #i want to eventually draw them all enough so that it wont be so difficult to draw. bc as of right now a lot of them are pretty tough #and yeah even the twins i find difficult to draw #i tried really hard to give them different facial features and eyes in particular #like. in the way ryoko kui does it where changes in character design are distinct but subtle in a way #flynn #nate #terence #trent #calem #jack #melissa #noa #vita #athena #eva #roy #lost and found children

[kiaxet]

HOW ABOUT THAT @somerandomdudelmao DISASTER TWIN REUNION, HUH

Went a little feral to the tune of 2.2K words of self-indulgence. What else is new?

~~~~~~~

Donnie can't sleep. More accurately, he won't sleep. Not until he's done. He'd never been one to leave a project unfinished; death and resurrection hadn't changed that.

He taps incessantly, repetitively, on a keyboard and screen, the motions long since past inputting data and now only serving to keep him awake. The repetition is soothing, easy, and - counterintuitively - he finds his head drooping forward into sleep-

And he snaps back upright. No. Not until he can confirm Leo is okay.

Leo is behind him, he knows. Breathing. In bed. Asleep. Very much alive. And-

He jumps and whips around as a thud sounds behind him. "What the-"

Leo is on the floor.

Well, that answers the question as to whether his twin is awake.

For a fraction of a second, part of him wavers uncertainly. He loves his idiot twin. The question he hasn't been able to answer is whether his reaction to Leo waking up will fall on love or idiot twin-

"Leo!"

He can hear the exasperation in his voice, and yep, it's the latter. He takes a knee next to Leo and hauls him into his arms, lecturing him all the while, and if he can hear the annoyance in his voice then Leo sure as hell can. Sleep deprivation for the purposes of keeping his brother's soul alight had done nothing for his temper. "I swear to God, all you had to do was make a sound! Why are you such a difficult patient?"

He deposits Leo carefully on the bed - "Sit still!" - and checks him over, running every scan he can think of and making sure his brother's new body really is in good working order, spouting increasingly irritated commentary all the while. Of course the fall didn't hurt him - Leo is tougher than that, and Donnie does better work than that - but he still can't help the rising anxiety in his throat.

This almost didn't happen.

"-stupid, stupid selfless idiot!"

Donnie almost couldn't save him.

"Grrhh-"

Leo nearly died for real. Permanently beyond Donnie's reach. Well and truly gone-

"Do you have any idea how close you were to having nothing left to save?"

And now here Leo is, in perfect health, sitting on Donnie's bed with a big dopey grin on his face as Donnie chokes on his anxiety and damn near shakes himself apart-

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Hey. Are you even listening?"

Leo speaks up for the first time since he's woken up, voice shaky from disuse. "D-Donnie?"

And that is not a goddamn answer to anything Donnie has been saying, because of course it isn't. It's Leo. He's always had his own priorities. "Yeah. No. You're not fucking listening." Donnie heaves a long-suffering sigh, sinking back into the routine comfort that irritation at his twin provides. "At least you're talking." Small favors. "Although I'm surprised you're not throwing your stupid jokes at me." Even smaller favors.

He stops short as Leo's hand closes around his wrist, drawing Donnie's arm to Leo's plastron. "You're real," his brother breathes, looking from Donnie's hand to Donnie himself with tears streaming down his face. "You're real!"

And then, in the space of a thought, Leo's joy breaks, his smile turning desperate. "Are you?"

For a moment, Donnie stares at his twin, wondering at the sudden change in expression. He takes a breath-

And the part of him that had lain dormant for so long after he'd woken up - the part of him that had been screaming for his twin's safety ever since they'd recovered the few scattered embers of Leo's soul - gasps to life, blooming like a time-lapse video of a flower and reaching to the edges of Donnie's soul. Leo had called it their twin sense, and Donnie hadn't had it in him to argue after a while. Whatever it is, it's back, connected to Leo's renewed presence, and-

Donnie's heart floods with emotions. Relief and joy sprout quickly and are nearly swept away in a tide of exhaustionanxietyfearfearfearfearFEAR-

But down beneath it all, steady against the rising wall of terror, is the little blue spark of hope that his brother always carried. His core. The thing that let him continue on in the face of insurmountable odds, and lent that same strength to everyone around him. A ninja's greatest weapon.

It's Leo. It's Leo-

And Donnie can't leave him alone in his fear. Not when there's no need for it. Not when they're safe.

He lets that breath out, and sits next to Leo on the bed. "Mhm. I'm alive. And you're alive. We're safe. The Krang are gone." That's all the news that's fit to print, or at least the most important parts. What else does he have to say?

Oh.

"I'm sorry I..uh…"

He's sorry he what? Died? Left a mess for Leo to deal with? Didn't do enough while he was alive to keep everyone else alive in turn after he was gone? Kept his brother's soul in a fucking mug, because that was the only way he could ensure he wouldn't break it while Leo was still fragile? All of the above?

…yeah, it's all of the above.

He owes Leo one hell of an apology, and he's never been good at any of this, so instead he shrugs haplessly and leans forward, pulling Leo into his arms and hanging on tight.

It's a matter of moments before Leo has him flat on his shell on the bed and is sobbing into his arms. Normally he'd hate seeing his twin cry, but it's proof of life - proof that Leo made it, that his soul is intact enough for him to still be Leo, that he's alive and awake and here - and Donnie will take it.

And if he's squeezing Leo back pretty hard himself, well, that's fine too. Nobody else needs to know.

~~~~~~~

Donnie is yelling at him.

Donnie is strong enough to have picked Leo up off the ground, well enough to be on his feet without support, running tests and reading Leo the riot act over his latest boneheaded maneuver - in this case, forgetting he was missing an arm and falling out of bed.

Donnie is yelling at him, because Donnie is here to yell at him.

And Leo is smiling, because he couldn't be happier. He lets the words wash over him, draping over his shoulders like a favorite cozy blanket that he'd lost so many years ago, and he basks in the warmth that is his brother's voice and smiles.

It's enough to interrupt the yelling for a question, though he doesn't really hear it - just keeps smiling, and says Donnie's name, and it's so nice to be able to say it with a smile now, because Donnie is here-

-he is, right? This isn't just a dying hallucination on Leo's part, right?

(It couldn't be- he remembers his death, remembers breathing his last, remembers being trapped- but this-)

He reaches out, taking Donnie's wrist in hand, and pulls his brother closer to him. "You're…real…" It certainly feels real - skin and scales, softer than his own, and his fingers barely fit all the way around the wrist instead of encircling them with room to spare - and he stares down at it, tears rolling down his face as he finally looks back up at his twin. "You're real!"

The Krang show you what you want to see.

The thought strikes him unbidden, turning his joy and relief to ice. It's a well-known fact: a Krang infection can show its host what they want to see, visions of comfort and family and home, and extract intel from the host's reactions. He knows that- he knows that, and-

And he'd died surrounded by Krang- and even if he couldn't see or hear or feel, he knows he'd been held captive-

But it's Donnie- he wants this to be real- he needs this to be real- he wants his twin back so badly he can't think, and the idea that this could be a Krang hallucination is almost too much to bear-

"Are you?" He can hear how choked the words are as they leave his lips, but he needs to know-

And Donnie stops, and sits down next to him, and tells him everything he wants to hear - everything he could've ever wished for. They're alive. They're safe. The Krang are gone. It all sounds too good to be true.

And then Donnie offers him an apology and a sad half-smile, pulling him into a strong hug-

And the ice in Leo's mind shatters in a flood of warmth as his twin sense opens for the first time since Donnie's death. He feels his twin's irritation, and deep-seated exhaustion, and a choking wave of guiltguiltguiltguiltguilt-

And beneath it all, steady and strong as ever, the thrum of unending determination, powered by an unfathomably deep well of love. It's the backbeat to the melody of Leo's life, the point-counterpoint to his own heartbeat- it's something he'd never had to live without until he did, but it's back, rushing in to fill the silence he'd known with the strength to go on and the knowledge that he is loved loved loved, strong and overwhelming and all-encompassing in the way only Donnie can love-

It's something the Krang could never imitate.

This is real. This is all real-

He throws himself against his twin, toppling them both over on the bed as he clings to Donnie, unable to stand even a fraction of an inch of space between them, as though he could push their hearts together through their plastrons, and he cries, sobbing out worry and terror and grief and the slow, crushing exhaustion of a losing battle finally lost. He cries as though the world was ending - and it had, once when the Krang had invaded and again every time he'd lost a member of his family, over and over until he'd sent his last hope through a portal that had cost his littlest brother his life and succumbed to death himself.

And now he's alive. Here, wherever here is, with Donnie. Clinging to his twin, and being held in turn as Donnie gently sits them both up, never letting go as Leo cries himself out.

It takes a while - long enough for Leo's gaze to settle into a stare and his thoughts to settle into a comfortable static. He's alive, Donnie is alive, and he has no fucking idea what else is going on, but he's just going to be okay with that for now.

His thoughts rouse enough to inform him of something wrong - the line of tension Donnie is carrying down his neck and over his shoulders. That won't do. Leo could try to massage it out with one hand, maybe try to get Donnie to talk about it, but Donnie never likes to talk about it, and Leo isn't one for slowly soothing away tension when he can just take an axe to the release valve instead. Plus, it gives him something definite to focus on, instead of…this whole situation. Whatever 'this whole situation' actually is.

Donnie had mentioned his stupid jokes, right?

"H-hey Dee?" His voice wavers from disuse, thick with tears, but he pushes through. "Why did- why did the tree buy a camera?"

"What?" Oh, Donnie is not going to see this coming. Excellent.

"To do a photosynthesis." It's nowhere near the level of pizazz he normally uses for a punchline delivery - he's still too tired and frazzled and clinging to Donnie entirely too hard for that - but that beautiful pause of a terrible joke sinking in tells him it had hit home nonetheless. Donnie moves - he can hear the telltale slap of face meeting palm - and then breaks down into helpless laughter, smacking the back of Leo's shell as the tension Leo had felt in his twin's shoulders abruptly relaxes. Good. It worked.

"This is so fucking stupid," is all Donnie manages as his laughter fades, and he slumps fully against Leo with a murmur. That's...abrupt. Sure, Leo had felt Donnie's exhaustion, but he hadn't realized it'd been that bad. He takes hold of Donnie, gently laying him down on the bed to rest-

Remember what happened last time Donnie fell asleep next to you.

He gasps sharply at the thought - not again NEVER again - and keeps his hand steady as he moves, laying both fingers gently against Donnie's neck and feeling for his pulse. It's easy to find, strong and steady and even, like it had been before the infection had taken Donnie's vitality and then his life.

But he's alive, and healthy, and sleeping. He's okay. And Leo-

Leo moves his hand to the side of his own neck. His pulse is also easy to find, quickened with the adrenaline of an unknown situation and multiple consecutive shocks to his system.

Okay. Take stock. Assess. Figure out a plan from there.

He's alive. Donnie's alive. The Krang are gone. And everything else…is a big fat question mark, with no easy answers and no indication as to where to begin looking for them.

Well.

Uh.

"What the fuck," Leo whispers to the room at large, as though the walls could answer.

~~~~~~~

(A world away and still very close, a younger pair of twins cling to one another the way a drowning man clings to driftwood: desperately, clutching tight, as though letting go will spell their doom. Neither of them know where the emotions came from, or why; all they know is that each of them are damn glad the other is alive, and they'll do everything they can to make sure that continues to be the case.)

(What the fuck, indeed.)

#rottmnt #cass apocalyptic series #future leo #future donnie #fic #writing #cw sibling death #mention of it at least #referencing the scrapped movie storyboards because it's too good a beat to pass up #we have fun here #no gods no betas we die like NOBODY BECAUSE DONNIE FUCKING FIXED IT #I GUESS #twin sense shit is my FUCKING JAM #inexplicable mystic bonds between two halves of a whole? sign me the FUCK up #I couldn't decide whose POV to write this from so I just did both #which is WHY it's 2K+ words #it's not perfect but it's Good Enough and therefore it's getting posted #fuck it we ball

[paodocinh]

Can you draw more plus-sized Summer Rose? Do you have other body diversity headcanons in RWBY, such as Qrow with a beer belly?

Hellooo lovely anon!

god, when i saw this ask i went absolutely ballistic. No words can explain just how much I adore my hcs of Summer Rose, she's my favorite RWBY character because the little details i added to her character as hcs just kind of made it for me, even if she has next to no screentime in the main series.

Personally, in my aus, i have tweaked and changed a LOT of the main cast so it'd have more representation. I couldn't draw all of them sadly, but here goes the little list:

Body diversity HCS ->

1. Blake Belladona is poc! This is the more obvious one but I decided to make her a dark-skinned woman as a general hcs in everything I do. You could also go further and say that her hair texture is different, and that she just straightens it.

2. Yang Xiao Long has a muscular build! (No shit sherlock) but yeah, she's buff! Give the girl her muscles! I also made her anatomy a little bit less off and she probably has a little belly too, because I can't really accept that she's so thin while her breasts are completely disproportionate to her body. She's also tanned!

3. This isn't exactly my HCS, because I haven't specifically added them to any AU, but I really like @peixedobar's take that Weiss Schnee has albinism.

4. Ruby Rose is also a bit stronger physically! She isn't as buff as Yang or Raven, because these two are absolute units, but she also isn't as thin as she is in cannon.

This is also more prominent for my Zombie!AU because Ruby lends Crescent Rose to Oscar for a good part of the plot, and after that she just... fucking punches everyone to oblivion. (I know it's a bit OOC but in-universe it makes sense)

5. Lie Ren is blasian! I don't really know where I got this from, but while thinking to myself about what I could do to make my Zombie Au more inclusive, the thought just crossed my mind. His hair is also textured, he has braids.

6. Raven Branwen is fucking jacked. Seriously she's probably the most well-built character I can think of in my AUs. She isn't like a massive war tank(or similar to League of Legends Illaoi for example) but she is very in-shape and has very well-defined muscles along with a body adorned by scars. Aside from that, she's also part asian, part... Brazillian? More elaboration on that on Qrow's part lmfao.

7. Qrow Brawen with a fucking beer belly LETS GOOOOOOOO!!

Anon, when you suggested that, i went insane. It had never crossed my mind, because I often drew Qrow with a very muscular build, mostly out of anatomy studies — But gosh, I adored this hc in so many ways i'll probably add it EVERYWHERE. QROW WITH A BEER BELLY SHALL BE MY MARK ON THIS PLANET.

Aside from that, I also made his face more detailed. Usually it was difficult for me to draw him because he lacked a lot of facial details that often make irl people more unique, and I believe that's due to RWBY's artstyle. On mines, however, he has beauty marks below his right eyebrow and one above the right side of his lips. Scars all over, too.

He has a Japanese descent(Assuming that The Branwen Tribe is from Anima + Raven's choice of wear cannonically) and asiatic features on his eyes, but him and Raven also have heavy latin-american characteristics. They're Brazillian in my aus, mostly out of a inside joke(I too am Brazillian) and the fact that Qrow gives me a lot of latino vibes(Contrary to popular fandom belief, his hips do not lie !!!!), but after a while I started noticing that It actually wouldn't be too far-fetched to believe this, because if you look back at the history and relationship between Brazil and Japan, you'd find that these two countries actually have a LOT of story together!

Brazil homes a bunch of different cultures and ethnicities in it's lands, it's a country with a lot of diversity so in my opinion it wouldn't be too otherworldly to make The Branwen Twins brazillian in my aus :p

That's it for body hcs! I'll probably have more in the near future, but for now these are the ones I can remember.

Other diversity Hcs ->

1. Autistic Penny, Ruby, Summer Rose(this wasn't on purpose, it just happened as I was writting her LMFAO), Neopolitan

2. Transfem Nora, He/They Lie Ren

3. ADHD Jaune, Qrow Branwen

4. This is specific to a AU I have, it isn't present in my other works, but in La Vie En Rose(Royal Au) Neopolitan eventually has a leg injury during a major plotpoint that leaves her disabled, so her Parasol is also used as a cane of sorts since she can't be as agile and flexible anymore. She's still slaying though, always.

5. Summer Rose is blind of one eye!

I'm quite sure I forgot a few, and with time I'll update you on everything, but for now these are the ones! Thanks for asking, Anon!

And just as you asked for~ A lovely Summer Rose on a Beach day for ya!

#rwby #rwby headcannons #rwby hcs #rwby fanart #rwby au #fanart #summer rose #summer rose rwby

[arbustorum]

What helps you break from sameface syndrome in art?

i know ive heard the phrase but i honestly dont think ive ever actually took at that seriously or cared about it all. The only time i remember thinking about it was getting the compliment that was like "its like you have the opposite of same face syndrome" and i still didnt really get it. So sorry if this is a long response that doesnt help at all but ur getting my essay because this stuff bothers me.

first time i saw it used in a way i think makes sense was back when i saw the frozen critique thing going around tumblr. They literally have the same face as each other, the main characters, and as their mother, but male characters NEVER have this issue, in the SAME media(show, movie, w/e). My solution to that is just simply...stop designing your women the same. If you need to, design a male char and then sex bend it trying to change as little as possible and see if that helps you notice how ur accidentally limiting yourself for your women. Most of the time the problem isnt "same face", its that we dont give women the same depth of expression and variety of design. whole other essay but yeah...

In that similar vein. Same face feels like a...way to avoid calling it sexism to me in the art. It then is used by all artists to just find a way to shit on art styles without actually providing useful critique. "Same face" is actually quite beloved and marketable.

Simplistic designs could be called "same face" which belittles the fact that designing minimalistic and aesthetically pleasing designs is quite difficult. These designs are distinct, recognizable, and very beloved. They are cute and nice to look at! These are actually so well designed i hesitate to call them same face but i wanna try and show the "two dot eyes and a mouth and dot nose" could be called same face. But with limited elements, each face is actually clearly distinct. Even the twin guys lala and kiki, (altho if u make them both smile and they wouldnt be but u get it)

Another minimalistic design that relies heavily on minute differences in the face(as well as other elements of the design) to distinguish them.

i like these examples because perhaps the average tumblrina might agree that everyone thinks sanrio looks good, and might say they dislike homestucks style, but they use similar design rules.

here is another example of a style some might just consider ugly or lacking skill(im a personal fan and dont agree but hopefully u get what i mean). A distinct part of his style is making every character have distinct eyes. probably for the same reason i find mobpsycho 100 and homestuck styles charming and pleasing, they cannot be accused of sameface(atleast not to me ill come for you LOL). This may be a kind of fundamental reason i dont struggle with it, im a particular fan of this method of design. It just is a part i focus on. it was never a concious choice i made as an artist.

Some artists find different elements pleasing or enjoyable to draw, and same face is actually quite beloved(and marketable) its not the end all be all design rule is my point... examples of beloved styles where its quite easy to switch the faces around and it may become difficult to tell it has occurred.

heres another style people consider ugly but doesn't have same face(again, im a fan, so it really might just be a thing i like in art, also yes the women are more similar but this rule does still apply to his women...just with much less variation :\ see again my original "same face obscures sexist design choices" point)

so yeah TL;DR i dont believe in same face as a fundamental design flaw, you should draw whatever you like and improve things you are personally dissatisfied with.

TL;DR 2 (ACTUALLY ANSWERING THE QUESTION) "i want more variation in faces when i design" treat eyes, noses, lips, forehead height, face shape, chin, eyebrows, eyes, hair coverage, moles, freckles, dimples, cheek bones...(and whatever else you can think of) as all different elements and include more variation of them. experiment.

im not a professional i am self taught and just some lady these are just my observations and opinions.

#maretext #same face syndrome #long post #mares art advice

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

U ask, and I answer. Feel free to ignore, I dont want to make u in comfortable, after all.

Why do I simp for Aether?

🌻🍵💚

Before reading, I want to say that I love Lumine just like I love Aether and that I dont think that any of them better than other.

Well, for starters, I would like to note that the main characters, whether it's Lumine or Aether, it's hard not to love at least a bit, because they were practically created in order to be loved by large masses. Such a prototype of ideal people. Protagonists who are good in almost everything and in terms of personal qualities they are the most worthy, brave and savvy people.

Also, while we are playing for the selected character, then during the game we establish a certain connection between us. And along with this, we attribute to the blanks of ideal beings some special qualities that we find attractive or interesting, don't you think?

However, even so, I agree that we can roughly understand what the main characters are like, apart from our own choices and actions in the game.

So I can't help but attribute or find something in Aether that will draw me to him.

Personally, of the two twins, I like Aether a bit more because hes more emotional than Lumine, who seems to be on calm and stoic side. Make protag gives me the impression of a gentle and affectionate young man who tries to maintain a positive mindset even in the most difficult times for him (there were such moments). Curiosity is not alien to him, and I find this trait charming.

Also, his more human character traits like rage, anger, loss, sadness, fatigue, they can move us towards sympathy. With them, he no longer seems so sickly sweet and soulless, like a porcelain doll, created only to be admired by her inhuman beauty.

And I would be lying if I said that his appearance does not seem attractive.

A long braid blowing in the wind. Big, kind, amber eyes, filled with hidden sadness and fatigue. A sly squint of eyes when his chest swells in pride and admiration for himself.

But Lumine and Aetger has some simillar qualities, too, so to sum up, I can only say that the difference is not that big. And that I like Aether a little more than her, mainly because he seems to me more cute and emotional.

I wrote all of this to make it clear that although I liked his blondness, it was not a key factor in my preference for this character. Now you can laugh at me. I'm sure that this is similar to the answer of a real simp.

Sincerely, GreenSN.

Yeah, I can understand. I also like the twins, so I hope that they get to have a few more lines in the game, or that Hoyoverse builds more on their personalities when the anime releases.

And don't worry, the only people that get clowned on on my blog are my friends and childe simps /hj

#just a simp answering asks

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #587

Top Ten Villagers in Stardew Valley

My family is, at the time of writing, caught in the pixelated grip of another Stardew Valley addiction. My wife keeps restarting the game to attempt a perfect run. Daughter #1 has adopted a baby. Daughter #2 is about to propose. It’s all kicking off down Pelican Town.

Me? I just like fishing. Caught two of the five legendary fish so far. My aim is to become like Homer in that one episode of The Simpsons, spoken of in hushed tones by idiots at a bait shop.

Where was I?

Oh yeah, Stardew. It’s great because it’s one of those games that’s simultaneously very relaxing and also profoundly anxiety-inducing. There’s a quaint lustre to the simple village life as you plant crops and tend to your farm, taking part in odd little celebrations with the other townsfolk, making friends, running errands. But then there’s also the constant ticking clock of the seasons, attempting to buy and grow and ship and catch everything you can, and the increasingly difficult adventuring in the games many caves and caverns. There’s tons to uncover – I’ve hardly seen it all – and as well as the actually taxing nature of some of the challenges, there’s also the mental strength required to keep every end straight and balance the whole game strategically.

Or you could just chat everyone up.

One of the big draws of the game – and I’ve looked online and can confirm this to be the case – is in its cast of villagers. The various oddballs and eccentrics all exist, essentially, as their own little quest, a regular need to keep them happy and give them gifts on their birthday as well as increasing your relationship level to unlock various perks and snippets of backstory. There’s a lot to unpeel in the game’s vaguely Twin Peaks-meets-Northern Exposure setting, and that’s before you even get onto the whole romance angle as you seek a willing bachelor or bachelorette (pretty sure it’s set in some fictionalised version of “America”), doing up your house so there’s room for them to move in and, later on, have a couple of sprogs.

And that’s what we’re talking about here. Each villager has a suitably different personality, with different things they’ll say and different histories to unfurl. And some are, frankly, more interesting or amusing than others. Some I think are genuinely sad! So what follows is a celebration of my favourite residents of Pelican Town; the best villagers in Stardew Valley. And that’s all there is to it really. Praise Yoba!

Willy: I already said my favourite part of the game is the fishing, and I’m currently trying to catch everything, so I’m naturally drawn to Willy (not like that). He’s a filthy, raggedy, salty old sea dog who probably stinks. He lives in a shack by the sea and I imagine he sounds exactly like Robert Shaw playing Quint in Jaws. Despite all this, he seems to be something of a “town elder” and commands a good deal of respect. Life goals, essentially.

Robin: an absolute superwoman and by a considerable distance the most capable character in the game. You get the impression she built half of Pelican Town single-handedly, including her massive house and 90% of your actual farm. She’s got a silly sense of humour, seems largely unflappable, and has a really cool family with her weirdo son, mad scientist daughter, and totally spaced out Egon Spengler husband.

Clint: a proper sadsack of a character, an overweight mopey beanbag who bitches about his job and his life and rather heartbreakingly pines for Emily, who doesn’t appear to return his affections even if you don’t marry her. He’s a really smart and useful blacksmith, knowing his stuff and being super helpful, but it’s the undercurrent of tragedy to his life that I find oddly endearing.

Linus: another character with a hint of tragedy to them, but unlike Clint who’s ostensibly on the up but a mardy bum, Linus has nowt but is happy about it. A weird hermit dressed in leaves who sleeps in a tent and robs from bins, Linus is naturally very guarded but once you get through to him he’s super-loyal and dependable, and no one in town seems to look down on him or belittles him.

Abigail: she’s a purple-haired goth who hangs around in the graveyard, dreams of wearing a suit of armour, and wants to go on adventures in the mines. Of all the prospective husbands and wives in Stardew Valley, Abigail is clearly the most badass and likely the most bonkers. Not necessarily my first choice for prospective spouse, however, as I can’t shake the fact she’s supposed to be about sixteen.

Maru: whereas Abigail is an emo-tinged adventure junkie, Maru is all about the science. A dungaree-clad tinkerer, her room is littered with parts of actual robots and all manner of strange and elaborate machinery. She nearly electrocutes you at one point. Thinking about it, she’s pretty badass too.

Leah: Maru is science but Leah is art. An airy-fairy semi-hippy who hangs out in a picturesque cabin by the lake where she spends most of her time painting and sculpting. And that’s great; there’s something really optimistic about her and her outlook. Plus her house is lovely. God knows why she’d leave it to move into your shithole of a farm. Poor sod.

Gunther: Gunther is an enigma. Ostensibly an expert on historical antiquities, relics, and precious minerals, he can explain away any oddball trinket you find, and give you a nice reward for donating it to him. He’s very rarely seen outside his museum and there’s precious little to indicate any exterior life. Does he have friends? Where does he actually sleep? How does he find time to serve coffee in Central Perk? But the most bizarre thing is that he appears to be a general from the American Civil War. What the hell is up with that?

Pam: once more we return to the realm of quasi-tragedy, as Pam is quite seriously an alcoholic. She lives in a shitty trailer with her daughter Penny (very nearly on the list, sorry, Pen); she’s unemployed and drinks all the time. But peer under the surface and you see she’s not just a lush; there’s sadness and disappointment there. And she’s still one of the old-school bigwigs, popping up in Gus’ saloon to have important meetings. And you can help her get her life back together, getting her old job back and building her a house. It’s a redemptive tale.

Gus: just edging out the likes of Penny, Emily, Pierre, and Harvey, we have Gus. A comedy barkeep with a Mario tasche. He’s always got a kind word of welcome when you walk into Stardrop Saloon. He gives free food to Linus! What a mensch!

Maybe I should have also included that cat/mouse thing that sells hats. They’re really weird.

#top ten #games #gaming #stardew valley #concerned ape

[strawberrywritingfiction]

Golf Outing

Tom Holland x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k 

Synopsis: Invited by he and his family, you go golfing with Tom

^^^

       You were sat at the dinner table among the Holland family members. Having met the twins, Harry and Sam through friends, and having had brief interactions with Tom, the eldest- You were invited as more or less a family friend. At least, the boys’ parents were interested in you, and in the exchanges you’d had with the boys through work and mutual connections. Plus, you thought you were a relatively pleasing house guest. Nothing abnormal about it, you thought.

“You play any golf Y/n?” Harry asked you, amidst the dinner conversations.

The rest of the boys’ heads snapped up at the question posed by Harry, most of the bunch being avid golfers and all.

“Well, sort of. But I’m nowhere up to the boys’ level.” You said with a laugh.

“You should join us for a round Y/n, we’re having a go at the nearby course tomorrow,” Tom said with a smile.

“Yeah, just a casual one, for extra practice.” Sam chimed in.

“I really couldn’t. Can’t even remember the last time I held a club - I’d have to practice in advance to get remotely close to being able to play you all.”

“Nonsense,” said Dom, “We’d love to have you join- and you wouldn’t even have to play if you’re not up for it. You can just have a few hits at the range down there, If you’d like.”

Finding it difficult to say no, and feeling Tom’s gaze held on you, you impulsively agreed to join.

This brought you to where you were now- driving mid afternoon on a Sunday, having just been to a sports store trying to pick up an appropriate looking golf outfit that fit the course’s, ‘formal attire requirement.’ Along with purchasing various balls and tees. Thankfully though, you hand a spare set of clubs at home.

Upon arriving, you met the boys in cheerful spirits, clad in their golf attire. Prepped and ready for play. So, you and the Holland clan got out on the green quickly. First hole, and your driver shot was unmistakably crap. You were glad the boys hadn’t winced at the horrible shot. You tried to play off the embarrassment with conversation between hits when being driven in the cart. The boys had 2 carts out. You sat alongside Harry and Sam in one. Tom in the other with their dad.

1st shot on the second hole though, and it was equally as bad as your previous. But luckily, the boys were distracted and missed the poorly executed swing. Finally after arriving at the beginning of the third hole, however, you stepped up to the tee, and hesitated.

“Listen guys, I think I’ll step out on this one- maybe head back, or tag along for the rest, but I think I’m out on playing. Don’t want to hold you guys back,” you said with a light chuckle. You definitely had the highest score of the bunch, and you were aware that the boys were just being polite, waiting for you to hit your past chipping shots and putts, as you were moving at a slower speed than the rest of them. Then again, they could practically be pros.

“You’re not holding us back, this is all good fun, so there’s no worries if you do continue. Otherwise, one of the boys can step out of the game and join you up in the cart, to go back to the front.” Dom said, looking to his sons. The twins made no effort to offer, which was fair, as they were in front with the lowest scores. But, to your surprise, Tom offered.

“I’d be happy to, I’ve been playing a shit game anyway,” Tom said with a laugh, placing his club back in his bag and hoisting it on his shoulder, “Only, I’d be willing to play with you on the rest of the holes for practice, If you’d be up for it. I’d... I’d Like to help improve your game.”

“My game?”

“Yeah, I think with some slight improvements to that swing of yours, you could be looking decent.”

You scoffed, “You sure? I don’t think you’ve noticed, but if you continue on with just me, you’ll be here for another few hours.”

“Time well spent.” Tom said with a smile.

The rest of the boys wished you well as they drove off to continue playing, leaving you and Tom with the remaining cart.

“Right well, you have a go first.”

“Alright,” you said, fishing through your bag for a wood club.

Interrupting as you removed one from it’s bag, Tom said, “Er- hold on, let me check.”

He too dug through your clubs before picking another one- “I reckon this one here’s a good fit,” he said, handing it to you.

“Ok then, I trust you,” You said, stepping up to the tee, “you got any other tips Holland?”

“Maybe. Give me a practice swing and we’ll take it from there,” he said, stepping back from your side.

You did as you were told, and Tom kindly gave you his input.

“Right well- this arm,” he said motioning to his own, “you’ve gotta keep that straight even on impact, no getting flimsy elbows before making contact with the ball there.”

You were trying to correct yourself, copying his directions, but upon your confusion, Tom walked up behind you to help demonstrate. “Okay so this arm,” he started, his hands gripping both of your own from behind, “You’ve gotta keep it like this through your back swing,” he said, drawing your arms back behind your shoulder. You couldn’t help but loose brief focus as he gave his directions soft spoken from behind.

He stepped back to examine your practice swing, “right that looks better, but uh- may I.”

“Go for it,” You said.

“Right, so-“ he placed his hands on either side of your hips “-you wanna kind of turn your body this direction, and move the opposite knee forward as you do.” You did just as you were told.

After the few tips, and Tom was satisfied with your practice technique and form, you took the swing, proving to have a much better result.

“See? That’s so much better! Your swing will be looking like Tiger Woods’ in no time, I bet it,”

You laughed, “All thanks to you Coach.”

Next, Tom stepped up to take his own swing. You watched, and to no surprise his form was practically perfect, landing him a nice spot on the green. You complimented his swing as the two of you hopped in the cart to head over to the next ball.

You drove the cart, and the cart rides throughout the day gave the two of you an opportunity to talk. Also, on each hole Tom continued to give you tips. You admired that he was so patient, and never got frustrated with you, or exasperated if you didn’t happen to pick up his directions quickly. He claimed you significantly improved by the end of the day. Surely enough though, by the time you got out of the course, the rest of the Holland’s had left, and it was practically dark.

The two of you carried your clubs to the car park, utterly exhausted. What was meant to be casual, fun and quick, felt as if it were never-ending.

“You got a ride Tom? You asked.

“Shit, well- no, really. Harry and Sam must have taken my car back to our shared apartment,”

“I’m happy to drop you off- least I can do. You practically gave me lessons for free today, forfeited your game too.”

“Nah, It was good fun, and I’d prefer to have forfeited than to have lost another game to those twats this month,” he chuckled.

The two of you continued to chat, and on the car ride home you both stopped for some takeout at a drive-through, seeing as now it was dark and neither of you had had anything for dinner.

You thanked Tom again once whilst dropping him off, “I’d love to do this again, actually,” he said, fumbling with the strap of his bag of clubs slung over his shoulder.

“I don’t think I’m up to anymore golf for a while,” You said, with an awkward laugh.

“Well, we won’t do golf again then,” he smiled, “maybe just a dinner.”

“Sounds good,” you agreed. Saying good night, you left to head home and upon arriving, you immediately began to receive messages from the rest of the boys.

* Sam H - Already, he won’t shut up about you 😐 9:37 pm.

* Harry H - 10 bucks said he’d be too much of a wuss to ask you out before the end of tonight and I lost 🙄 9:41 pm.

^^^

#tom holland x reader #strawberry writes #tom holland fluff #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland golf imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #🍓 #oneshot #tom holland one shot

[randomshyperson]

Left Behind - Chapter 8 - Fine Line

Gif was made by my friend @abimess

Summary: The one where you lived in the apartment under the Maximoff family in Sokovia, or, your journey as a Sokovian civilian to Avenger.

Warnings: (+16) Violence, fighting, cursing, civil war environments, abuse of power, assault, torture, underage kissing, psychological torture, substance use, mention of assault/fighting of children, smut, kissing, teasing, insinuation of sexual and moral harassment, verbal offenses.

Words: 4.183K

A/N> I have no idea. Good reading.

All Works Masterlist || Read on AO3 || Series Masterlist

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Chapter 8 - Fine Line

As soon as the jet landed on the compound, things started to change.

Nick Fury was waiting for the Avengers at the entrance, and you exchanged a look with Natasha as you walked alongside everyone.

"I would like the twins to attend this meeting." Nick asks as soon as Steve leads the team into the office. You sit down next to Bucky on the couch in the common room, and he looks at you, as if wondering if you were going to contradict the other man, but you are looking at the Maximoffs.

Wanda and Pietro nod in understanding, and you try to give a reassuring smile when the girl looks at you, but it doesn't seem to help much as she just looks away and walks inside with her brother.

"What do you think they're talking about?" You ask a few minutes after you and Bucky are left alone. The winter soldier sighs lightly.

"Ultron, of course." He says. "Nick will want to know everything the twins have on him since they were working together. And I think some legal questions about them being here, like we did with you."

"Do you think they will want to become Avengers?" You ask a moment later, twiddling your fingers anxiously. Bucky gives a little smile.

"Depends on how much Tony talks."

You laugh, leaning back against the armchair.

"Maybe that will take a while, wanna eat something?" Bucky asks next, and you glance at the meeting room door before muttering, "Sure."

You and Bucky stand up toward the kitchen counter and he reaches into the cupboards, pulling out some ingredients as you prop your elbow on the counter.

"I'm going to make my secret recipe." He comments with a smile, taking two plates and placing them on the wood. "Grab some cheese for us?"

"Sure." You reply as you walk over to the refrigerator.

For the next few minutes, you watch Bucky prepare what resembles a cheese sandwich, but which he calls the Barnes secret recipe, but which is only different about the tomato and the fact that he heats the bread with oregano.

"Are you sure about that?" You ask as you watch him put on even more oregano. Bucky laughs lightly and then closes the bread, handing you one piece and taking the other.

"Come on, tell me what you think." He asks and you grimace uncertainly still biting into it. It is surprisingly good tasting, but deciding to tease him, you don't smile and the man looks at you wide-eyed.

"Dammit, pal, I don't think that turned out so good." You start and he takes a quick bite of the sandwich, and realizing you were joking, he nudges you lightly as he chews, making you laugh.

"Idiot." He grumbles but ends up laughing too.

You are in the middle of laughing when the meeting ends. Distracted by the interaction, you don't see the Avengers leaving the room, much less notice the way Wanda quickly catches the scene of you and Bucky laughing, and misinterprets it all.

"Barnes' secret recipe? Do you still have any for me?" Steve asks as he approaches, and you look at the Avengers who have entered the kitchen, scanning around for Wanda, but she is looking at the floor.

"I'll make one for you." Bucky says as the captain sits down on one of the stools. "Are you going to tell us what happened in there?"

Steve smiles, propping his elbow on the potty.

"For the current time, you guys are looking at the new two members of the Avengers." He counters and you widen your eyes, looking immediately at the twins. Pietro matches your excitement, but all you get from Wanda is a quick, almost annoyed look.

You leave your unfinished sandwich on your plate, and thank Bucky before walking over to the twins.

"Can we talk?" You ask them half-heartedly.

"Of c-

"Are you sure you're not busy?" Wanda interrupts her brother halfway through, crossing her arms. You frown in confusion, but Natasha approaches you.

"Why don't you show them the compound, Y/N?" She suggests with a smile. "They're going to be your door-mates too."

"Okay." You agree and exchange a look with Pietro before waving the direction where they should follow you.

It takes a few minutes to show them around, but you ensured that if they ever got lost, all they had to do was call out "Jarvis" who was already restored to the compound, plus there were maps in every corridor.

And then you led them to the hallway of rooms, and Pietro was the first door.

"I guess that's you." You say, and Pietro takes out the magnetic key he must have gotten from Fury in the briefing room to open the door.

You let the twins in first, and then follow them with your hands in your pockets, smiling at the impressed hiss Pietro gives.

"I know, it's fancy." You comment and he gives a short laugh, looking around.

"I never thought I'd be under the same roof as Tony Stark." He speaks and you bite the inside of your cheek, looking away to the floor.

"Yeah, me neither."

Have a moment of silence as they look around until Wanda, who is standing with her arms crossed and beside her brother, looks at you.

"Did you talk to him?" She asks. "About... Sokovia?"

You sigh lightly.

"I kind of did." You say. "Tony is... difficult. There' s not much to say about it if you ask me. I learned about how he had no idea that Stark Industries bankrolled the war, because he was busy spending his own fortune."

"Great guy." Pietro mutters and you give a weak little smile.

"Yeah, I know." You continue. "I'm sorry about that. I know you guys always wanted to find him and make him pay, but he didn't even know about the whole thing."

You shift the weight of your feet, and then sigh. "I know that doesn't change anything, but he apologized. And then he made me a suit, and let me stay here."

"You're right, it doesn't change or fix anything." Wanda retorts, but her gaze softens, "But, it's a start."

"And now we promise to help defeat Ultron." Pietro adds and you shake your head.

"What did Nick Fury say to convince you guys?" You ask with mild amusement and Pietro laughs, exchanging a quick glance with his sister.

"Your name." Wanda replies and you stop laughing because you feel your heart race, and your face heat up at the intensity of her gaze. Pietro seems to find the whole interaction amusing.

"W-what?"

"It doesn't matter. Can I see my room now?" Wanda asks quickly, already walking away to leave. You exchange a quick glance with Pietro, who just shrugs and then follows Wanda down the hall.

"Is this the one?" she asks as she stops next door and you shake your head.

"No, I'm in the middle." You clarify. "Yours is next."

She gives a smile as she looks at your door.

"I've never been in a room that was yours."

"That's because I've never had a room of my own before." You comment with a chuckle. "Wanna take a look?"

Wanda glances at you and then nods. You move closer to open the door, and try to ignore the way your heart races and your hands tremble because Wanda doesn't move aside and you have to lean in to open the lock.

She walks in as soon as the door opens, and you follow her in silence, trying not to look so affected.

"I think I just have the stuff the Avengers gave me here." You explain as you watch Wanda look around. "Not that I had anything in Sokovia."

Most of the rooms in the tower had a pattern of furnishings, and colors. As they became more comfortable, the team members would add their own personality to the room. In the short time you stayed with them, the most you had were sweaters with the team logo all over the place, or training shoes. There were also, however, drawings. And Wanda noticed.

"What are these?" She asks as she reaches for the small notebook on the armchair. You ran your hand through your hair shyly.

"A hobbie, I guess." You count with a smile. "It's new, it's...therapeutic, I think that's the word."

Wanda looks at you curiously.

"Since I've been here, I've had some trouble getting relaxed." You explain and Wanda frowns slightly. "So Bucky suggested finding a hobby of some sort."

"Who is Bucky?"

"The guy with the metal arm." You say and continue talking, not noticing the way Wanda squeezes the sketchbook a little too hard. "Since we've been through similar experiences, he figured that what his therapist taught him would probably help me too. He cooks, and I draw."

"Got it." Wanda murmurs, shifting her gaze to the notebook again. She opens it and looks at the pages carefully, smiling at some of the drawings. "When you say, similar experiences, what do you mean?"

You hesitate. Wanda doesn't know all about it. Everything you went through to get there. You wonder if you would like her to know.

"Maybe that's something for another time." You say as you look away and she looks upset.

"You used to tell me everything."

"Maybe there are things you don't need to know."

Wanda stares at you with her jaw locked. You look back, not sure what it is exactly that you're trying to hide.

You give in, with a soft sigh. You have waited so long to see them, only to have this strange nervous tension between you two.

Running a hand through your hair, you gesture to Wanda to return your notebook.

"Let me take you to your room..."

"No need, next door right? I'll be fine." She interrupts angrily, tossing the notebook into your hand.

"Wanda..."

But she's out of the room before you're done. You take a deep breath, staring at the notebook in your hands. Wanda never got to see the drawings you made of her.

Figuring that you should give them time to settle into their rooms, and take a shower after a mission like that, you return the notebook to your desk and decide to do the same.

With luck, you will be able to talk properly to each other in no time.

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Wanda and Pietro joining the team, seemed to have been the essential advantage for the Avengers to be ahead of Ultron.

Once you were back in the common room, Natasha handed you a mug of coffee while making a joke about Tony bragging about deciphering Ultron's entire plan, and you just laughed when she commented that it was easy to decipher when the twins had already shared the key information.

"We're going to Korea early tomorrow morning." She counters. "I think Steve wants to know if you're still going to be a part of it."

"Why wouldn't I?" You ask confused and she raises an eyebrow.

"You found your friends." She retorts and you sigh.

"Oh, yeah." You say. "B-but I can still help. I...I still want to"

"Is this about Ultron manipulating your friends?"

"Maybe."

Natasha laughs lightly.

"Well, the captain is in the conference room organizing everything." She says.

"I think he will be pleased to know that you are not heading off to Sokovia."

"Yet." You retort with a smile making Nat laugh as you take the coffee mug back.

When you arrived at the conference room, Steve was distracted by some paperwork, and you knocked on the door before entering.

"Hey, kiddo." He said as he turned his head to look at you quickly before returning his attention to the papers. "Everything okay?"

"Sure, Steve." You replied approaching, deciding to stay on your feet. "I wanted to let you know that I can still help."

Steve looks at you with a mixture of surprise and amazement.

"I thought..."

"Yeah, I know what I said before."You interrupt with an almost embarrassed smile. "But I want to help. I don't know what Ultron is planning, and I thought this was not my fight. But then..."

"It affected your friends." He concludes and you nod. Steve sighs and leans on the table, crossing his arms as he looks at you. "You know, I think I should give you a speech about how being a hero is about helping everyone, not just the people who matter to you."

You laugh humorlessly, looking away. You were going to contradict, but Steve quickly adds.

"I'm not going to do that." He says. "I won't because you grew up in a war that wasn't yours, with no one to fight for you. So you three were the only heroes you ever knew."

"We weren't heroes, Steve." You retort with a sigh. "We were just orphans trying to survive."

"My point is, I'm in no position to lecture you." He clarifies and you cross your arms, waiting for him to finish. "Your motive for fighting is nobody's business but your own. What matters is that you will be helping."

"Thanks, Cap." You grumble and Steve smiles.

He grabs a clipboard, and starts telling you about them finding out that Ultron had intention to create a better body made of Vibranium, and how they would be going to Korea to stop that and get the scepter back with the stone.

He is in the middle of the sentence about putting you on the support team when you can hear his heartbeat.

The sudden noise startles you and you frown in confusion.

"Everything okay?" He asks as he notices your expression, before you can say anything, your head starts to spin.

It's not just his heartbeat, but all the blood circulating in his veins that can be heard next. You suddenly find it hard to breathe, and just as you notice Steve's full molecular presence, you're able to know Natasha is in the next room, hear Tony chew in the basement, or feel Clint scratch his back.

It is oppressive and overwhelming and you stumble back in despair.

"W-what's happening?" You ask trying to breathe normally.

"Hey kid, breath, are you okay?" Steve asks worried, approaching you with his hands raised.

His heartbeat accelerates because he's scared for you and you gasp, covering your ears because you feel your head is going to explode.

"Please stop it." You ask in desperation, feeling your eyes fill with tears with all that information at once. "It's too much. please..."

"Tell me what's wrong." He asks but you just sit on the floor, burying your heads in your knees, and covering your ears as you try to breathe. "I'll get help."

Even after he leaves, you can feel his presence in the other rooms.

And it gets considerably worse when all the Avengers are around you, worried and asking what's wrong. Their heartbeats feels like it's going to pop your eardrums, and you want to scream.

"Hey Y/N, I need you to focus on my voice." It was Bruce, kneeling in front of you. "It's your powers increasing, remember how we talked about that? Try to focus on me."

"I can't. " You cry. "Please Bruce, it's too much. Tell them to be quiet."

"This will help." He says and you feel a sting in your thigh.

Little by little, the sounds become muffled, until they disappear. You get a taste of iron in your mouth, and you look up to see the whole team looking at you with concern, and Bruce in front of you, giving you a short smile.

"I'm sorry." You mumble awkwardly, feeling exhausted.

"Do not worry kid." Bruce says. "Can you stand?"

"I think so."

Bruce helps you anyway, one hand around your waist while your arm rests around his shoulders.

"I think you'd better lie down for a while." He says and then you are walking. "Guys, let's give her some space, alright?"

Bruce asks the team and they stop following you two. Bruce takes you to his room, and helps you to bed.

"Here we go." He murmurs as soon as you lie down completely. "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted." You respond weakly, feeling your eyes grow heavy. "Thanks for help."

"Any time." He says. "Rest kid, we have a lot to talk about when you wake up."

You want to tell him you'd like to know what's going on now, but you're falling asleep right away.

You don't know Wanda is standing at your door with a pounding heart.

//-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-////-//-//-//

Waking up is surprisingly unpainful.

You expected at least a headache, but your powers do the job right.

"Good Morning." Bruce greets you as soon as he notices you fidgeting with the sheets. You frown.

"Morning? How long was I gone?"

"Thirty-eight hours and twelve minutes." He responds by placing the tablet he was holding on the table beside him. You widen your eyes in surprise, sitting up quickly. "Hey, take it easy."

"B-but the mission..."

"Do not worry about it." He says as he approaches your bed, sitting next to you at knee level. Bruce assesses you quickly and then sighs. "Are you feeling something? Any dizziness?"

"No." You say. "Where are the others?"

"The twins also went to Korea if that's what you want to know." He responds while looking away to fiddle with his jacket. He takes out a small lantern and holds it close to your eyes, examining something in them as he mutters to himself.

"What was wrong with me?" You ask as soon as he puts the object away. He adjusts his glasses.

"Don't talk like that." He asks. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"I was out for two days, doc." You retort with irony and he gives a short laugh.

"Yes, because you were exhausted." He says. "Don't worry about it, it's not a bad sign."

You mutter, crossing your arms. Bruce clears his throat as he reaches for the tablet on the table and then hands it to you.

"I did some analysis while you were sleeping." He says, and you stare at the graphics without understanding much. "They are good news."

"What did you inject in me back there?" You ask then, handing the tablet back to him.

"An alternative to Hydra Serum." He clarifies. "Without the obeying part, just the controlling of your abilities."

"Thanks, I guess." You mumble. Bruce locks the tablet before looking at you again.

"I'll ask Bucky to cook you something to eat, and then we'll go to the lab." He warns you. "We have some things to talk about."

"Whatever you say, doc."

//-//-////-//-////-//-////-//-//

After eating, and thanking Bucky for the favor, you returned to the lab.

Bruce set up a kind of glass room that made you frown.

"I have a cell now?" You joked and he grimaced.

"It's not a cell." He retorted. "It's a training room."

"It looks like a cell."

"It is not."

"But it looks like."

Bruce sighed and you giggled, crossing your arms as you look at the glass in front of you. He walked over to open the door through the holographic lock and you took a closer look.

"Why did I get a training cell?"

"Your training room is special." He says entering the glass box. You follow him, and as soon as he enters, you notice that the glass muffles all outside noise. When the door closes behind you, you can only hear Bruce. "I needed something that could block out everything else when your powers awaken again."

"But I don't have super hearing, Banner." You retort. "I don't understand why an anti-noise room is the best option."

"That's not what it's for."

You tap the glass with your fingers while Bruce fiddles with the tablet. And then the glass gains a new layer of protection, which glows golden before becoming practically invisible.

"Cool." You whisper and then turn to him again. "But what is it for?"

"Well, as I said earlier, I did other tests on your blood." He counts. "By my calculations, and from your little scene two days ago, you're going to be showing an immediate growth in your healing abilities over the next few days."

"Okay..."

"Shield tries to classify the enhanced humans as best as possible, and after working with Maria, we put you in some of those categories." He counts and with a flick of his fingers, a hologram comes out of the tablet into the air in front of him.

It was your file, and lots of texts and some photographs that you thought were images from your time in Hydra. Those were Shield's files on you.

"Of course we'll just have to wait for it to happen, but you're already classified as an enhanced beta level with biotherapeutic skills."

You looked around the files, surprised about the pics of your young self that Shield managed to recover. Even images from your childhood.

"For now, you've only demonstrated cell regeneration and close-range healing manipulation."

He narrates. "And two days ago, you had a small episode."

"I could hear everyone's heartbeats." You clarified still looking at the files. "I felt them in the next room."

"I understand." Bruce grumbles as he writes something down on his tablet. "This is called biomolecular detection. Depending on how you evolve, you might be able to detect injured people meters away."

You frown in surprise. Bruce is thoughtful.

"Not only detecting the injured, but also being able to tell exactly where the wounds are." He says. "It's impressive."

"You forgot the part where I couldn't breathe and I curled up on the floor like a scared child." You mock.

"That's what this room is for." He retorts with a smile. "You need to learn to handle your powers in a controlled environment."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's better than putting you in the middle of the fight, I'm sure of that."

You sigh, crossing your arms.

"What else does Shield have on me?"

"You want to look at childhood pictures, don't you?"

You laugh, shrugging.

"Obviously."

After showing your files, Bruce also explained how the room was designed to block, at a molecular level, your ability to sense other people outside the room.

Since the team wasn't in the tower for the next few days until the end of the mission in Korea, Bruce and Bucky would help you practice with your powers.

And as soon as the serum Bruce developed started to wear off, you felt your powers come back with a vengeance.

"I need you to focus on my voice until we get to the lab." Bucky asked worried as he found you on your knees at the living room floor, hands over your ears. You muttered weakly, feeling him help you to your feet as you heard the air rush in and out of his lungs. He started humming a song, and you whimpered, trying to concentrate, but everything was overwhelmingly noisy.

It seemed to take forever, but then everything went quiet next.

You look up to realize that Bucky has left you in the room, and then close the door.

"Thank you, buddy." You say, adjusting your balance by leaning against the glass.

"Don't worry." He says giving you a gentle smile. "Do you feel better?"

"Fuck, yes." You grumble as you quickly wipe your tears. Bucky watches you carefully.

You sit on the floor, closing your eyes. It takes Bruce a few minutes to get to the lab, but when he does, he looks worried.

"Sorry for taking so long, I was all the way downstairs." He clarifies as he approaches the glass. "How do you feel?"

"It happened again." You count. "But as soon as I got in here everything was quiet."

"Well the room works, that's great." He says and you laugh weakly. "I think we can start your training then."

"But who will train her?" Bucky asks confused.

"I thought you could do that." Bruce retorts and Bucky looks at him in surprise.

"What? I thought you were going to do it."

"I don't know how to train anyone, I'm just a doctor." Bruce argues.

"Well I'm a sergeant who was brainwashed for eighty years, I'm not the teacher type."

"But you're a still a sergeant..."

"I was never a drill Sergeant..."

"Jeez." You grunt humorously, clearing your throat to stop the argument. "I have an idea, as clearly none of you are in the mood to train me, I suggest Bruce give me some more of the special serum until Natasha or Steve get back."

"We can do that." Bruce agrees. "I'll get the serum. Hopefully you'll learn to control this soon."

"I hope so, doc."

/-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-///-//-//-//-////-//-//-//-////-//-

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #avengers imagines #Left Behind #Wanda x yn #wanda maximoff x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

[lancermylove]

Teenager MC 8: Dad’s Home! (Oneshot)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: Demon Bros x gn!Reader, platonic.

Warning: None

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: Could you do a one-shot where Lucifer arrives home after a looong day and walks in on his brothers laughing up a storm because teen MC accidentally exclaimed "Dad's home!" when they saw him?

A/N: Anon, I am SO sorry for taking so long! >< I like to write one-shot in one go, and recently I’ve been very busy. I hope you like it! 

Word Count: 2,287

———————————————

Everything that could've gone wrong went wrong. First, Lucifer stayed up all night to finish a report for the RAD council. Then in the morning, his brothers ended up arguing and got into a food fight, so he had to forgo breakfast. When he got to RAD, he learned that Diavolo ran away to escape his responsibilities, leaving Lucifer a tall stack of papers to read and sign. On top of that, since the butler was out searching for the prince, the Avatar of Pride had to take care of Barbatos's student council work as well. For this reason, he had to ignore his rumbling stomach and skip lunch.

Just when Lucifer thought he could rest, a fight broke out between two lesser demons. Then he got caught in the middle of a prank and got doused in water, followed by pink glitter. There went his new clothes. After he left RAD, the raven-haired man stopped to get a snack but got attacked by hungry Devildom birds and had to give up his food. When he decided to head home, Diavolo showed up and asked Lucifer to save him from Barbatos; instead of helping the prince, the Avatar of Pride gave him a lecture which drained the remaining energy from his exhausted body. So, by the time Lucifer reach the House of Lamentation, he had no strength left.

All he wanted to do was eat, go straight to his room, and drink wine while listening to his favorite CD. The demon expected all his brothers to be busy with school work, but instead, he found them in the living room in a rather chaotic state. Mammon was rolling on the ground, holding his stomach and laughing up a storm; Levi sat on one of the sofas with both hands over his mouth, trying to suppress his chuckles; Satan leaned against Asmo's shoulder, laughing and wiping his tears, while Asmo pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips and giggled; Beel held onto his stomach and repeatedly hit one of his large hands on the center table, laughing heartily; the youngest brother was curled up on the couch beside his twin, chuckling. You stood near the fireplace, biting down on your lower lip, but as soon as you saw Lucifer, you covered your mouth quickly, hoping he didn't hear your words. 

Seeing the state of his family, Lucifer felt like hitting his head on a wall. All eyes turned to him, expecting him to question them or cross his arms and frown at their behavior, but the eldest brother chose to turn on his heels and dragged his feet towards his bedroom.

Asmo and Satan stopped laughing and exchanged glances as soon as they saw him exit the room. Belphie saw his older brothers' reactions and wondered what happened. He tugged on Beel's shirt to get him to stop laughing. Levi blinked in confusion, questioning why his tyrant brother walked away without saying a word. Mammon didn't get the message and continued laughing until Satan threw a pillow at him.

"Hey, whatcha do that for?" The Avatar of Greed asked as he sat up and smoothed out his disheveled hair.

"Is Luci okay?" You questioned, not expecting him to give such an unusual reaction, "Should...we go check on him?"

Before anyone could reply to your question, a familiar voice interrupted, "Pardon my intrusion, but would Lucifer happen to be here?"

"He just came home," you replied, "hey, Barbatos, did something happen to Lucifer? He...didn't seem like himself."

"I thought that may be the case," the butler touched his chin and sighed before explaining the events that took place throughout Lucifer's day.

"You know, Luci always does so much for us," you mumbled and glanced at the ground, "we always cause trouble for him, but he still takes care of us. I think this time, we should do something for him!"

Your lips tugged into a smile as you held up your curled hands close to your face, "Let's turn his bad day into a good day."

The brothers pondered for a second, and Asmo was the first to speak, "I agree. Whenever I have fashion emergencies, I can always count on Lucifer to help me."

Beel nodded in agreement, "Whenever I ask him for his food, he gives it to me. Also...he took care of Lilith a lot."

Belphie's muscles momentarily stiffened at hearing his sister's name, but he regained his composure. "He locked me in the attic to protect me...even though I caused him trouble."

Levi twirled the cable of his headphone around his index finger while mumbling, "He always makes sure my bank account is full, so I can buy all the games I want."

"He takes Goldie away from me," Mammon sighed and averted his eyes, "but to keep me from running into debt."

All eyes turned to Satan, waiting for him to add his point to the conversation. The Avatar of Wrath crossed his arms as the corners of his lips turned down, "What? You really want me to say something nice about Lucifer?"

"Come on, Satan," you pouted, "you know he has done nice things for you. Admit it! It's not like Lucifer is around to hear you praising him."

After a moment of silence, the blond man shook his head and admitted defeat. "Fine, even though I always hated him, Lucifer still looked out for me."

"See, that wasn't hard, was it?" You chuckled, earning a deeper frown from him.

"Seems like all of you have the situation under control," Barbatos smiled, "Then I shall take my leave. If you require my aid, then do let me know. Please excuse me."

----

Asmo opened the door to his elder brother's room and peeked inside. "Luci? Sorry, to disturb you."

The Avatar of Pride sat on the chair next to the fireplace with his arms crossed over his chest and head thrown back. He didn't open his eyes but motioned his brother to come inside.

"What's wrong?" Luci asked in a sapped voice, slightly opening his eyes.

"I need you to come with me." Asmo took hold of his brother's hand and helped him to his feet before Lucifer could protest in any way.

"Can this wait?"

"No, sorry!" Asmo forced a small smile as he studied his sibling's lifeless face.

Upon reaching his room, the Avatar of Lust asked his sibling to lie on his bed faced down. At first, the elder brother looked at Asmo with a raised eyebrow, but lacking the strength to protest, he gave in. While the other brothers fulfilled their duties, Asmo kept Lucifer busy with a body and face massage.

"Asmo, what is going on?" The raven-haired man asked in a muffled voice.

"Shh, no talking allowed. Just relax." The Avatar of Lust cooed as he worked his fingers to break the pent-up tension in his brother's muscles. In the meantime, Belphie and Levi snuck into Luci's room to draw him a relaxing bath with candles and soothing music.

"D-Do you really think this will help?" Levi asked while lighting the silver-colored candles around the black bathtub.

"It will help. Besides, we need to give Asmo time to sneak out and buy Lucifer a new outfit. Levi, while I add the final touches, go tell Asmo we're done."

After Belphie added the remaining petals in the bathtub, he made his way to the kitchen to check on his twin and Mammon.

"Beel! Don't touch that," Mammon loudly said as he whacked the top of his younger brother's hand, "Remember, we are cookin' for Lucifer."

"Beel, are you hungry again?" Belphie chuckled, stepping into the kitchen to find his twin pouting. The Avatar of Gluttony touched his growling stomach and nodded once.

"How are ya still hungry? You ate everything we made just a few minutes ago," Mammon sighed and shook his head in disapproval, "Belphie, will ya make sure he doesn't eat any of Lucifer's food? We don't have enough ingredients to cook everything again."

"I p-promise I won't eat anything." The orange-haired demon lowered his head and looked at the older demon through his bangs.

"Don't gimme that look. We'll getcha somethin' to eat after, 'kay?"

Beel's eyes lit as he vigorously nodded, "Let me help you with the vegetables."

"So, how's everything goin' on your end?" Mammon asked as monitored the food on the stove.

"Lucifer got his massage and should be relaxing in the tub. Asmo will leave to buy his new outfit soon." Belphie leaned again the wall and watched Beel rhythmically chopping the red, green, and orange vegetables.

“What about Satan and (Y/N)? Did they message ya?” 

“Yeah, Satan said (Y/N) gave an earful to Diavolo for giving Lucifer and Barbatos a hard time,” Belphie smiled and rolled his long bang between his right thumb and index finger, “I wish I could’ve been there.” 

----

Meanwhile, you and Satan worked with the prince and his demon butler to finish some of Lucifer's student council work. 

"Prince Diavolo, I apologize for crossing my limits earlier, but you are the Ruler of Devildom. That means you have certain responsibilities to fulfill whether you like it or not," you huffed, "you can’t push those duties on others. Lucifer and Barbatos already do quite a lot for you, so please don't give them a difficult time. Promise me, you won't."

Satan pressed his lips into a firm line to hold back his laughter while Barbatos quietly chuckled to himself. Diavolo exhaled loudly and shook his head, feeling guilty for his actions. 

"I promise. Barbatos, deliver an apology gift basket to Lucifer on my behalf. Also, let him know that he has the day off tomorrow." 

"Of course, my lord." The green-haired butler glanced at you with a smile before exiting the room to purchase the present. 

----

An hour later, you and Satan return to the House of Lamentation to find Mammon and Beel heading to Lucifer's room with a tray in hand. As the four of you reached the Avatar of Pride's bedroom, you saw the remaining brothers waiting in front of the door.  

"Ah, seems like everyone is here," Asmo smiled and knocked on the door, "Lucifer, we are coming inside." 

The Avatar of Pride was stunned to see the group enter his room but stared wordlessly. He scanned all of your faces with unreadable eyes, waiting for one of you to speak. 

"Here," Mammon broke the silence as he set the food tray on the center table, followed by Beel. "We heard you haven't eaten today..." 

Lucifer lifted the silver cloches to find three meals, an appetizer, main course, and dessert, messily arranged on fine china plates with intricate gold patterns. He examined the dishes but stopped to stare at the cake with a missing piece. 

"B-Beel, you promised you wouldn't eat anything," Mammon rested his hands on his hips and shot a glare towards his younger brother. 

"S-Sorry...I couldn't wait to eat," The Avatar of Gluttony innocently replied. 

To everyone's surprise, Lucifer started chuckling, "Thank you, Mammon, Beel." 

"Luci, I got you a new replacement outfit," Asmo chimed, "Though I must say, you looked quite good covered in pink glitter." 

"Oh, I also have something I would like to tell you," you chirped and clapped your hand together, "you have the day off tomorrow!" 

The raven-haired glanced at you with wide eyes, but before he could ask you why a loud knock echoed through the bedroom. All heads turned to see Barbatos stepping in with a large gift basket. "Pardon me, but Lucifer, Lord Diavolo asked me to deliver this on his behalf. He also wishes to apologize to you for causing you trouble today." 

For a while, the Avatar of Pride grew quiet as he pieced the events of the day together. His lips curled up into a rather soft smile, "Thank you, everyone, for turning my day around, but I advise you not to get used to this kinder side of mine. I am curious about one thing though, what were all of you laughing at earlier today?"  

"Oh dear, look at the time," Asmo gasped as he covered his cheeks,  "I need to go moisturize my bedroom." 

Mammon watched Asmo skip out of the room and quickly added, "Uh, I think I left the stove on. Lemme go turn it off before the house burns down."

Levi looked around the room nervously as Mammon ran out of the room. "Um, I w-will go get g-gasoline to put out the fire..." The Avatar of Envy stiffly walked out the room, nearly tripping over his feet. 

"I need to finish a report and pull an all-nighter," Belphie mumbled before turning on his heels and quickly sliding his feet across the hardwood floor. 

"I need to go burn my book," Satan said and power walked out, mentally beating himself for making a senseless excuse.

Beel tilted his head to one side and blinked, "Why did everyone leave?" 

"I should return to the castle to babysi- I mean to attend to Lord Diavolo," Barbatos chuckled and excused himself. 

"Uh, I need to...go summon the devil. See ya!" You flashed a toothy grin and raced out of the room. Lucifer watched all of you with one eyebrow tugged up. 

"Beel," he shifted his attention to the only remaining brother, "tell me, why was everyone laughing earlier?" 

The tall demon chuckled, remembering your word, and blurted, "When (Y/N) saw you at the front door, they ran into the living room and said 'dad's home'." 

"Dad...," Lucifer slumped on the sofa and touched his forehead with his thumb and index finger, "is that what (Y/N) thinks of me as? I suddenly don't feel well." 

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist ➣ Buy me a Ko-fi or Commission?

➣ Teen MC Series: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7]

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo

[rogue-durin-16]

HIS WARM EYES

Summary: Some members of the Order are reticent about letting in a Lestrange, specially after Snape's betrayal. Whilst taking Harry to the the burrow, an ambush has place. Everything points to Y/n, right?

Pairing: George Weasley x Slytherin!Lestrange!Reader

Genre: angst

Tags:

George Weasley: @meph1stophelian

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @skarlettmikaelson

Warnings: blood, injuries, death

A/N: OH MY GOD THIS IS SO LONG AND BAD— I AM GENUINELY SORRY BUT I HAD TO

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Lestrange wasn't a good name.

It wasn't a good name in the streets, nor in close-doors, let alone amongst The Order.

That's why I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that they had accepted me— well, maybe 'accepted' was a strong word; they had let me in, reticent, weary, but still they had done it. Plus, after Snape's betrayal and Dumbledore's death, no one would think there was a vacant for a Slytherin and a Lestrange.

It wasn't until I found myself exiting the abandoned Grimauld's Place along with the rest of the volunteers to go to Privet Drive, that it dawned on me; they were short on people.

They were so short on people that the Order would have to swallow my name, my family and my House.

That didn't mean they would quiet down their opinions about me being there.

"I'm gonna say it." Fred announced, taking a spot in the living room's corner while Shacklebolt, Arthur and Lupin searched the place.

"Again?" Fleur groaned.

Fred had already spoken his mind about my presence before we reached Potter's house.

His and George's shocked looks had been on me since the very first moment I had walked into the old Black's home, which was understandable; last time they saw me I was joking about joining the death eaters.

Although the shock on their faces had been accompanied by very different emotions on each.

Fred's held reticence. During our school years, he had never liked me; I would dare to say he was scared of me, even.

George's gaze, on the other hand, held hope —maybe even excitement— which was comforting.

In our first year, I had managed to draw George's interest, and for three years he was adamant about Slytherins not being 'all that bad'.

George's friendship was the thread I was hanging on; he was the only thing stopping from taking the easy way and live up to my name.

The thread was cut after he asked his mother to bring me over during Christmas, which ended up in her forbidding him to talk to me. He, being George Weasley, ignored his mom's pleads and twin's scolding and still tried his best to stay close to me, so I did what was right and, at the end of our fifth year, I cut ties with him.

It hurt more than I would dare to admit.

After our drifting apart, I was forced to completely rely on Slytherins. And you see, Slytherins, as 11 year-old George would say, aren't all that bad, but the ones my name attracted were.

They were bad sort —the worst—, and keeping that company around after our sixth year wasn't the best record to have, but Merlin's sake, I was there, I had volunteered— people change.

"Son." His father warned Fred, well aware this wasn't the time, though he obviously wanted to side with him. "Don't start again."

"Someone has yet to tell me why is she here?"

"She has a name." I hissed, unable to stop myself.

"Which is why you shouldn't be here, Lestrange." The name rolled out of his tongue like poison. "She's not one to trust."

"Oi, she's willing to risk her life, isn't she?" George's words seemed to be meant to calm his twin's temper, though his warm eyes did land on mines with a reassuring look.

"Yeah but for whom?" I tried to stay quiet as Moody had asked me too, but Fred was making it quite difficult. "If something goes wrong—"

"Weasley!" Mad-eye's tone was dry as he bursted into the room. "Are you questioning my judgment?" Fred scoffed, but stayed quiet.

"If we're throwing in the surnames, you're gonna wanna know her mum's my auntie." Tonks spoke, folding her arms.

"But you're a Hufflepuff." He was quick to respond, giving me a disgusted look. "She's a Serpent."

"And you're still a mouthful, aren't you?!" I snapped, stepping forward, though Tonks gave me a lazy tug before I could get to Fred.

"Wanna fight, Lestrange?" He had taken a couple of steps in my direction already when George yanked his twins arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled, giving his brother a push. "She's here for Harry! She's helping! What else do you want?!"

"Oh my gosh, Georgie— get over your teen crush already, she's not on our team!" George's knuckles went visibly white, unlike his cheeks, which turned red.

"Are you done making a scene? The three of you." Bill questioned in a calm tone, resting against the window's bench. "I don't fancy the idea either, but we need help, Fred, so shut your mouth because we have things to do."

"Pity, I was enjoying the teen drama." Moody teased before grabbing his flask and the ones who would take the Polyjuice potion moved to stand in line.

"Y/n." George's hand brushed my hand, drawing my attention to him as we stood besides one another. "I'm glad you're here." He whispered with a side smile.

"Missed me much?" I couldn't help but grin back, bumping his arm with mine. I stole a proper look at him and thought I might as well ask before the mission. "So... Teen crush huh?" I wiggled my eyebrows at him, though I could feel my own face flushing.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't fancy George —could someone blame me?—, and the idea of those feelings not being unrequited was very appealing.

He only threw his head back and looked away, the half smile growing wider and more bashful. "We'll talk about it at the Burrow." He assured me, taking the flask with his right hand and squeezing mine with his left.

"If we don't die before that." I was joking, but fear was shaking me to the core.

"We won't." He looked at the potion disgusted and gave me a peeked at me saying, "You have to hear me embarrass myself first." And with a wink, he drank the potion and passed it to me.

Gosh, I couldn't get over the mission to hear him 'embarrass' himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The first five minutes were calm, despite all of us being on edge. We kept checking on each other, dreading if we lost sight of someone, that someone would banish.

The storm came when we had to dive into the dark clouds.

Funnily enough, I did think it was a literal storm before entering; oh, what I would have given for it to be a literal storm.

Black, cloaked intruders flew among us, making us divide in the pairs we had been assigned to.

Lupin started casting protegos and hexes to everyone that got too close while I tried to take down as many enemies as possible.

A couple of yelled warnings were heard when both Moody and the real Harry had entered the ambush.

"WATCH OUT!" Tonks screamed, flying past me with Ron at her tail. "REMUS!" She made a signal to her husband "ESCORT!" I got the hint; we were supposed to clear Moody's and Y/n's way so it would confuse our attackers while Tonks and Shacklebolt made sure to get Harry out of there.

"ON MY LEFT!" Lupin shouted over the chaos, changing to my right for me to be by Y/n's side.

"WE'RE FUCKED!" She yelled dropping her flight to dodge an Avada Kedavra.

"WE'LL MANAGE!" I automatically dropped my flight with hers too, which was a bad decision, since we had gotten rid of the protection provided by Lupin, Mad-eye and Bill and Fleur.

Soon enough three death eaters came flying towards us.

"STUPEFY!" another Harry with the voice of Fred passed by us, closely followed by my dad.

"GO BACK UP!" Y/n was quicker than me following my father's instructions; when I did though, I realised the little formation we had going on was gone.

Suddenly, all we could hear were screams; it felt as if someone was missing but I blamed it on everyone flying around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Tonks almost crashed against me on her way down; Ron was nowhere near me, nor Lupin.

We were outnumbered, and instead of moving forward, we were stuck in the grey clouds, trying not to die.

It took me a hot second, a crash against a death eater and a couple of hexes to get to Lupin, and even when I did, it was a hard task to keep track of him.

I had just taken out someone in my way when I caught a glimpse of something my eyes refused to believe.

Snape.

Our bloody professor was trying to kill us.

I felt the need to laugh at the situation.

"GEORGE!" It was Y/n's voice snapping me out of it, although her actions shocked me even more.

Y/n casted a spell on me, pushing my broomstick to the left and consequently making me crash against Lupin and lose balance.

Then something happened, something my mind didn't quite process.

At first it felt like a slap, but the pain stung my side as if someone had sliced me with a blade.

I didn't hear my own cry, nor Lupin's desperate 'help'; I didn't feel his hands struggling to take a firm hold of me, nor my own shakily reaching to my side, searching for an injury I didn't want to find.

A second after that, everything was black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

FRED'S P. O. V.

As soon as my father and I apparated in the fields of our home, I ran into the house. For some unexplainable reason, it felt as if something wasn't right.

A couple of steps into the house were enough for that 'something' to strike me. George had been laid on the settee, barely conscious; blood was covering the side of his face, neck and left shoulder, making his hair and clothes stick to his skin.

I was left speechless at the sight, my eyes welling up while I dragged my feet towards my twin.

"Mad-Eye is dead." Bill's words, despite sounding far away, made the gears in my head turn.

Lupin was quicker than me, though, "I told you we couldn't trust a Lestrange!"

"Remus! we don't know—" Tonks tried to calm him down, just to be cut off by Bill.

"Mad-Eye and Lestrange traveled between us and" he gestured at our wounded brother, "Remus and George." His jaw twitching let me know that he was desperately trying to stay calm. "Mad-Eye is dead and my brother just lost an ear, who is it if not bloody Lestrange, Dora?"

"Bill..." Fleur held onto her fiance's arm in an attempt to ground him.

"Did you see her disapparating?" Tonks's point was logical and hopeful.

George would have sided with her.

My eyes fixed on my wounded twin again. He was as pale as a corpse now, and the absence of his ear was way more noticeable now that my mother had begun to remove the blood.

George would have sided with Tonks because he wanted to trust Y/n, and he couldn't even speak because of that same reason.

Since everyone was arguing, they missed the flash of someone apparating near the front door.

I didn't.

Before I knew it, I was running outside with my wand in hand, Lupin and Bill following me instantly when they realised what I had just seen.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Y/n's wand flew to my hand even before I could properly see her.

My rushed march came to a halt when I was a couple of feet away from her, making Bill bump into me; she was as pale as George, maybe more.

She took a seemingly calm, deep breath before attempting to walk.

Luckily, I saw the pools of blood on her shirt and stepped to reach her before she could touch the ground.

"Oh my..." Lupin covered his mouth with both his hands and Bill stood frozen at the sight of the girl in my arms. "MOLLY!!" my old professor yelled at the top of his lungs, going as livid as me.

We shouldn't talk on impulse, I told myself, rushing into the kitchen with Y/n in my arms. A series of gasps and regretful whispers broke the silence while I laid her on the dining table.

"Y/n?" George's trembling voice was heartbreaking, and, as my dad forced him to stay on the couch, I prayed the girl in my arms would survive.

"Oh Lord..." My mother muttered, examining her. It wasn't only her shirt stained with blood; her left leg and arm were too. "Oh dear..."

"She took the blow." Lupin ran his hands through his hair, understandably stressed. After a couple of seconds, her turned to my dad and commanded, "Get him up. Quick— go get him up." His eyes stared right into my soul and I dreaded the worst, but still obeyed and helped my dad drag George to the dining table.

I heard Lupin telling Bill something about Sectumsempra, and my heart sunk.

She took the blow.

"No..." George's murmur was close to a cry, but it was enough for Y/n's eyes to snap open.

"George." tears were effortlessly streaming down her cheeks at the sight of him. "You're... A-alive..."

"Please stay" My brother fell on his knees, reaching for Y/n's bloody hand with his own. We all looked away to give them some kind of intimacy, except from my mother, who was still trying to fix the poor girl.

I heard them both whispering sweet nothings with shattered voices until only one of them died out. I looked over to Tonks, whose eyes were gleaming with tears, and then to Lupin.

I couldn't bring myself to look at George.

After a moment of intense sobbing, my dad managed to pull my twin away from the corpse, and we carried him back to the settee.

I stayed with him the night, holding his hand and assuring him it was not his fault, but I knew my words would have little effect on his state; after all, he had been in love with Y/n for years.

All those years he had spent trying to convince all of us that Y/n was a good person, that we should give her a chance; all those years begging our mother to bring her over because she wanted to see our home.

Now her body was lying on our kitchen and I knew none of us would forgive ourselves for misjudging her.

READER'S P. O. V.

"Nervous?" A tall, redheaded kid appeared besides me; I supposed he didn't know my name by the warmth and curiosity with which his eyes stared at me.

"Aren't we all?" I replied with an anxious laugh.

He seemed to think for a moment before nodding. "Fair point, though I'll probably go into Gryffindor." He assured me with a proud smile, causing my head to cast down. "What is it?"

"Oh nothing," I shrugged, aware I would not be able to befriend that sweet boy with warm eyes. "I think I'll be sorted into Slytherin."

"Nonsense!" His intentions had been obviously to reassure me, but when he realised his response only made it worse, he added. "It'd be wicked to have a Slytherin friend, though." My eyes widened at his words; did he just— "I'm George, by the way."

"I'm Y/n."

"That's a very pretty name." Professor Mcgonagall led us into the Great Hall, and before I knew what was happening, George's hand was holding mine. "It'll be fine."

The lighting of the Castle changed once the Great Hall's doors opened; a bright, white light seemed to be coming out of it.

"Wait!" My hand gripped George's before he could leave my side. "Can you hold my hand? I-I'm scared." My voice no longer sounded like a 11 year old.

For some reason I didn't comprehend, my eyes were watery, making the view in front of me blurry.

"Don't be scared, darling." When I turned to George, I didn't see a kid; it was him, in the expensive suit I had seen him mere hours ago. "I'm here."

I just nodded and, swallowing my fear, took a step ahead, and then another one, and another, until I reached the Great Hall.

#harry potter fanfiction #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfic #george weasley angst #george x y/n #george x reader #george x reader angst #george weasley one shot #the seven potters #deathly hallows #deadly hallows part 1 #hp fic #hp dh

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

hiya, this is my first time requesting smth and i dunno rlly how to go about it but i was wondering if you could do a fic where the s/o leads to bois to Hudson's bluff where theres a projector and a roll up whiteboard thingy set up, blocking the view and they make them sit down and starts to play a film that s/o recorded earlier of the sunrise since the bois cant go out in the sun. sorry if that was too long, i really like your writing and i think youre awesome :))

Thank you so much for the kind words and for the super cute idea!!! I hope you like it!!

One Last Look (Poly!Lost Boys x S/O)

Warnings: angst about being a vampire, angst about their human lives, yearning for a forgotten life, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 1414

The boys had no idea as to what you'd set up, you'd made sure of that. It was somewhat difficult even convincing them to go somewhere without David's choosing, but you'd promised them a surprise. That was enough to, at least, pique Paul's interest, and the others knew that he wouldn't shut up until the surprise was revealed.

So, you'd taken them up the stairs and all the way up to the cliffs edge. Quickly, confusion dotted some of their faces when they saw the projector screen and the rest of your set up. You'd even gone through the trouble of bringing some beanbags and chairs up for the boys to use, and the blonde twins didn't hesitate to launch themselves into the bean bags you'd put side by side. David sat in one of the more rigid beach chairs, and Dwayne, given a choice between a bean bag and a beach chair, chose a bean bag. You smiled, dodging Dwaynes attempts to pull you into his lap as David asked,

"Now what?" And you tried not to roll your eyes at his tone. Really, he couldn't stand not being in charge for ten minutes? Well, you were sure that you were about to change his attitude. You pressed play, starting the projector, and then hurried to your seat. It was in the middle, between David and Marko, and you watched as your earlier film began.

***

The boys didn't like being kept in the dark, but they waited patiently as the show began. Paul had muttered something about it being a dirty movie, but Marko had immediately given him a glance. A dirty movie showing right on top of Hudson's Bluff? Yeah, no way.

Paul had scoffed, crossing his arms as he thought pointedly. Well, you never know. To the boy besides him. But, when the movie began to roll, they watched in confusion as the horizon right in front of them began to play. And then, the first bit of light peaked over.

The boys flinched out on instinct, with some of them even moving to push themselves out of their seats. But you reached for Markos hand, giving it an assuring squeeze.

"Hey, hey. You're okay." You said, and the boys looked between the screen and the world around them. The sunlight was false, it couldn't hurt them any more than the candles they used to light the cave could. Their eyes turned to the screen once more, fascination on them as the sun breached the skyline.

It'd been eighty years since they'd last seen a sunrise. Even then, some of them couldn't remember it.

Marko had always been an early riser. He'd seen his fair share, but after eighty years of fog? It was like looking at a faded photograph. The colors weren't right or the lines were hazy. Maybe certain parts of his memory were distorted. Or maybe all the memories of sunrises he held had blended together. But there was one thing he always remembered. The orange, yellow glow of the sun. He'd remembered that perfectly, and he stared silently as it climbed up the screen. He gripped the bag under him, kneading it as it climbed. He remembered waking up just to watch it, even sketching it in his young life. His fingers itched for his pencils then, and he bit his thumb to try to suppress the urge. He remembered how expensive pencils and paints used to be. How he'd save a week's wage, as he used to call it, just to buy some. How, even though they never said anything, the others used to stare at his brushes like they wished they were a loaf of bread instead. But he also remembered how his drawings used to brighten up their space, how they'd done the same thing to the cave below. He thumbed at his jacket, thinks about how, even after all these years, even after he'd forgotten why, he was still trying to bring color into their lives.

Paul had seen his fair share of sunrises when they'd been human, but that was usually while he was scrambling out of someone's bed, or scrambling out of his own to try to make it to whatever sorry excuse for a job he called work. He never paid much attention to the sky of the morning, but, in that second, he remembered how much he missed the feeling of the sun on his face. A sun that didn't burn his skin the second it touched it, but a sun that warmed him. He remembered mid-day, a breeze of memories he didn't even know he still retained. He remembered eating lunch inbetween shifts. He remembered being full, remembered the way his muscles used to burn and how good it felt to sit down and relax. Paul relaxed all the time, but he couldn't remember the last time, in his vampire life, it felt like relief. His muscles didn't ache, his brow didn't sweat, and he didn't feel the prickle in his feet after being on them for too long. He never even realized those things had been missing, and a small part of him missed the feeling.

During his human life, Dwayne had always paid more attention to sunsets, to the sight of the sun retreating behind the sky. To the oranges, reds, and deep purples that followed. He was used to the navy blue of the night sky. He'd been under it every night for years. But, seeing his first sunrise in nearly eighty years, he would've traded all of his sunsets for it. He wished he'd appreciated it more. He missed lying under the sun, even if it was just to tan. He missed having to tie his hair back to keep himself from overheating. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt hot, let alone even warm. Memories of him under the sun in the California desert floated in his mind. He thought he'd known what thirst was then. He laughed a little bit to himself, and he glanced over at you when you looked over to find the source of his laughter. He didn't explain, simply letting his eyes flick back to the screen. He stared, watching in silence as the sun rose on the screen.

David didn't know what to say. He didn't know if he should say anything. David had never been one for sunrises. He always got up the latest. He was practically nocturnal even when he'd been human, working through the night and spending the rest of the time worrying about the others. The switch to being a vampire hadn't been much of a change in his life, but it was only then that he realized what he'd been missing. Instead of having his thoughts float back to his old life, he glanced over at you. He wished he'd been able to be there with you, watch as it pulled over the horizon. That you didn't need to take a video, and instead you could've nudged him awake. He realized then that there were parts of your life that he'd always miss. Unless you became one of them. But, as he stared at the screen, David had his first inkling of doubt. He'd been so sure of it before. It'd been an obvious choice. As sure as the sun rising above the horizon each day. But now? His fingers itched for a cigarette. Anything to stifle and take his mind away from the thoughts swirling around his head.

***

You looked over at them. The boys had been silent ever since you started the movie, until it ended. When it did, you waited for them to speak. It took a moment, but David finally said,

"That was- You shot that?" He asked, and you nodded. He was quiet for another moment, and it unnerved you. For a moment, you thought that you'd done something wrong. That perhaps you shouldn't have. But Dwayne was quick to say,

"Thank you, y/n. Really." And the others were quick to chorus a mantra of the same.

It took a moment for you and the boys to clean up, but, just before you packed up the set-up, David had walked up to the screen. He reached out for the screen, and the others paused where they stood. It occurred to you then that they were getting one last look, before the five of you packed everything up and went to take it down to the cave.

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #the lost boys marko #the lost boys dwayne #the lost boys david #marko the lost boys #david the lost boys #dwayne the lost boys #the lost boys x reader

[stuckwith-harry]

Hide-and-seek

A/N: Oh, to be a chicken in times like these. (CW for discussion of death, nothing graphic.)

In the chicken shed it might as well still be the eighties, as though time had only gone on for the humans living in the house on the other side of the fence, but not in here, where the hens are quietly clucking and cooing and enjoying their naps, until Ginny shakes a handful of lettuce in the air like an invitation, a beckoning – then they come hurrying towards her, beaks tearing greedily at the green leaves.

When the hens have had their fill, Ginny looks over the gaggle of bickering ladies and finds her favourite amongst them, Genoveva with her warm brown feathers and clever eyes, who yells and shrieks when Ginny lifts her up by her impossibly soft belly, crouching down in the chicken shed, and pulls the disgruntled hen to her chest.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you”, Ginny tells her quietly. She fishes sweetcorn out of the front pocket of her dungarees and holds her open palm out to Genoveva, not flinching or grimacing when the sharp beak leaves little red marks on her skin as the hen gulps down her treat.

Ginny smiles.

The summer after her first year, she climbed into the chicken shed every day. She was soothed, then, by the arrhythmic clucking and the smell of fresh hay and the fact that the hens allowed her to share their company, that they did not recoil in horror at her sight.

It was her that named them, while she sat here for hours and hours with a chicken in her lap, more often than not Genoveva, who, for all her complaining, was easily the most patient of the bunch, and who nestles into her lap now, blinking slowly in the twilight while Ginny strokes her feathers, the burning inside her ribcage dull and pulsating like that of an infected wound.

Like it was her that took the damn Killing Curse to the chest.

“You’ve no idea how lucky you are”, she mutters, meeting Genoveva’s sharp eyes. “Nothing in those little heads of yours except earthworms and soft hay.”

She sits there for ages and ages like she did that summer, willing the comfort of the soft animal to sink into her like warmth. When she finally gets up to leave the chickens be, she tosses the rest of the sweetcorn into the hay (Genoveva looks utterly betrayed), fills up the grains in the feeder, and climbs out of the shed with the smell of warm feathers and wheat straw still in her nose.

“Chicken-feeding duty?”, calls a voice from near the house as she swings her bare legs over the wooden fence and strolls back towards the Burrow. When she looks for the voice’s owner, she discovers Ron, sitting on the weathered bench below the kitchen window.

“What’re you doing out here?”, she calls out as she comes closer.

“Hiding”, he says dully. “Mum’s crying again.”

Ginny feels something inside her chest take a tumble. “Is anyone with her?”

“Yeah, I’m not that much of a dickhead. Dad and Percy and Bill are all in there.”

“You’re not a dickhead”, Ginny says automatically, surprising them both. Then: “Mind if I stay?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

So she sinks on the bench beside him, joining him in his grim silence. They gaze aimlessly over the soft green hills all around, the shape of the lake like a blue thumbprint in the landscape, where they whiled away so many happier, warmer days than this, and Ottery St. Catchpole’s mismatched roofs in the distance, smoke rising from the chimneys.

Ron finally looks over at her. “Were you with the chickens this whole time? I thought you’d grown out of your obsession with them.”

Ginny musters up a grin. “Never. I love those stupid hens. That was just an elaborate ruse so I could hide in the chicken coop when we used to play hide-and-seek. It never occurred to any of you to look.”

“Well, you stopped growing at about five feet, I figure you fit right in.”

Ginny whacks him in the knee. In a true testament to the severity of the situation, Ron does not retaliate.

She tells herself it’s that, not how much they aged him, the few short months that he was gone.

It’s less blatant now that Mum has shorn back the unkempt mop of hair that was falling into his eyes and growing down the back of his neck like wild weeds when he walked through the secret entrance of the Room of Requirements with Harry and Hermione; now that he’s shaved the patchy stubble on his cheeks and his face has regained a little fullness. But sometimes she still looks at him and wonders how ten years have not passed since she watched him slip away into thin air at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“Did anything happen?”, she asks. “With Mum?”

Ron shrugs, expression blank. “Some fool said his name again. I never noticed how rarely we actually said the twins’ individual names until we had to break the habit of saying Fred-and-George all in one go. It’s like he’s Voldemort.”

Ginny doesn’t laugh.

“I know”, she mutters. “Don’t think it’ll ever come naturally.”

He nods mechanically. “Anyway – I made a run for it. I just couldn’t do it right then, having to comfort her and everything.”

Ginny looks over at him. “Funny, you’re so good at it.”

“You just say that because I make the best tea.”

“Well, you do.”

The same way that children can recognise each of their family members by the sound of their footsteps as heard through a wall, or the rhythmic pattern with which they knocked on the door, the Weasley siblings have learned to read each other’s silences since they’ve come home. Often now, they appear at each other’s bedroom doors at all hours of the night, shaken from nightmares or too restless to sleep or, rarely, weeping.

Most nights, two or three or four of them eventually find themselves in the kitchen, where Ginny turns on the lights, and Ron puts on the kettle, and they sit there and while away the small hours in each other’s company, in silence, in quiet understanding, in murmured chatter about nothing at all.  It’s good comfort, the idea that even after everything, there’s nothing in this world that a hot cup of tea can’t fix.

Ginny shifts on the bench next to him, pulling her knees to her chest. “Remember when that fox got one of the hens? I was inconsolable, and you were so nice to me when we put her in a shoebox and buried her behind the house, you didn’t even make fun of me.”

“You lot are different, that’s easy. I just can’t take it when it’s our parents.”

Ginny hums in understanding. “I think seeing Dad cry was worse for me. At the memorial.”

“Cheers, thanks for bringing it up again.”

She snorts.

“You’re good with Harry”, she says softly. “D’you miss him at all?”

He rolls his eyes. “He just sleeps two floors below me, it’s not like he died.”

Ginny winces.

Ron does not miss the look on her face or the heaviness of her silence, as they have all learned to do, and asks in an unnaturally light tone: “How’re you coping with him waking up three times a night?”

He seems relieved, for a moment there, when she smirks.

“It’s not too bad, actually. At least he makes for a great pillow.”

Ron looks appalled. “What the hell happened to the camp bed?”

“Oh, we just keep that around for decoration now.” She grins, comforted by the opportunity to tease him. “And he doesn’t wake up as much anymore.”

His face lights up. “That’s good news, at least. Lead with that next time.”

“Oh, he’s just … stopped going to sleep altogether.”

“That really solves that problem”, he says darkly. “The idiot.”

“I don’t think it’s purposeful”, she says. “He’s always pretending to be asleep when I look at him, but I can always tell. And when he does doze off, I’ll just stir next to him, and that’s enough to wake him up again.”

“He’s a really light sleeper these days”, Ron says apologetically. “The worst camping trip in the world will do that to a person.”

Ginny grins faintly. “Yeah, he’s mentioned it.”

“He’s talking, then?”

“Hm-hm.” She wraps her arms a little tighter around her legs. “Which is good, I guess.”

He watches her for a minute, as though unsure what to make of her tone. “Anything on your mind?”

She laughs. “Anyone ever told you you’re turning into Mum?”

“Well, we’re here anyway!”, Ron says, ears flushing. “Spit it out, will you?”

“He, uhm –”

It has not occurred to her, until right now, how difficult it would be to pass the story on, even to someone who has heard it before. Harry handed it to her because she asked him to, and still it knocked into her like a wild animal, pouncing, the weight of it like a Hippogriff standing on her chest, pinning her to the earth.

“He told me about walking into the Forbidden Forest.”

“Ah”, Ron says hollowly. “No wonder you’re hiding in a chicken coop.”

She looks around at him. “It’s not Harry I’m hiding from.”

“But you are hiding”, Ron says wisely.

Ginny shrugs. “I dunno what I expected. Somehow I’d convinced myself I already knew the worst of it. Which, as it turns out, was a bit stupid of me.”

She draws in a shaky breath.

“I thought he was in on it. Ever since I watched him come back to life at Hagrid’s feet … I thought there was some sort of plan. But there wasn’t, or Dumbledore didn’t tell him, anyway. I thought he knew he was going to survive, and it turns out that, uhm – he didn’t know shit. He went there to die, for real.”

Ginny looks back at him, words coming faster now. “And I’m – I’m so angry, and I don’t know why. Or who I’m angry with. It can hardly be Harry.”

“In all fairness, I kind of felt like punching him when he told us”, Ron says quietly, and her mouth briefly twists into something like a smile. “If anything we should be angry with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, even – but they’re not within punching distance, so what are you gonna do?”

“If Dumbledore wasn’t already dead, I would kill him”, Ginny says. “I swear, I would kill him.”

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable”, Ron says good-naturedly, patting her arm.

“And Harry – Harry keeps apologising, and I don’t know what for.”

Ron’s expression is pained. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

He sighs. She handed this to him, and now he is steeling himself to hand something back to her. She can tell.

“My best guess is … for not saying goodbye.”

Ginny does not look at him. Suddenly she is blinking rapidly in the fading light, sitting there as the blow rolls over her, something blunt and violent that should have broken her ribs like the impact of a Bludger; but there is no injury, only an ache that does not abate, that sits all around her, inside her. She doesn’t think it’s ever going to go away, all that hurting, writhing and straining inside her like a second skeleton.

“How could he have? We would’ve dragged him back to the castle by the damn hair.”

“Of course we would have”, Ron says robustly.

For a moment he looks like he’s going to reach out to her, hold her, maybe. He seems to think better of it in the end, and she’s almost relieved, dreading what she’d do if someone hugged her.

It’s another thing that won’t ever come easily: showing up on someone’s doorstep, weeping.

“If it’s any consolation”, he says after a while, “I think that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ve been wondering”, she mutters. “Can’t think of very much that beats walking to your own death. No fucking wonder he doesn’t sleep.”

“It’s funny”, Ron says, “I talked to him less than an hour ago, and he seems alright, almost.”

Ginny shrugs. “Isn’t he always? Remarkably functional, considering.”

Ron makes an attempt at a smile. “It’s such a Harry thing to do, though, isn’t it? Always dying for other people. Or trying to, anyway.”

“Hardly just a Harry thing, it turns out.”

It’s all shit, she thinks when he looks at her. Being the person knocking at the door, and the one listening on the other side, opening it.

“He told me about Malfoy Manor”, she says softly.

“Ah.” Ron kicks at the dirt to his feet. “Well, then you know what keeps me up at night.”

“He said – he said you offered to swap places with Hermione. Let Bellatrix have you instead.”

“And? You would’ve done the exact same thing for him.”

Ginny almost smiles. He might as well still be the boy who stuck stubbornly by her side next to the chicken fence all night, when she couldn’t bear to head back to the house, in case the fox ever came back.

“Yeah. I would have.”

It settles on her shoulders as quickly and unnoticeably as night, rapidly falling all around them: everything she would’ve done, in a heartbeat, in an instant.

“I would’ve taken the forest, too”, she says, more to herself than to Ron. “I would’ve done it all for him.”

It seems significant, somehow, that Ron does not resist this. That maybe he knows what it felt like, to Ginny, when they walked out into the courtyard and saw Harry.

That, too, felt like a Bludger to the chest: the sight of him, a kid in Hagrid’s arms, his glasses askew. How she wished it was her lying there, dead in his place.

“Those two”, Ron says abruptly. “Some day they’re really gonna be the death of us.”

Ginny almost laughs.

“So you won’t strangle him for abandoning the camp bed?”

Ron eyes her for a moment, a sort of benevolent sternness in his expression – and Ginny was right, that’s all Mum. “Yeah, I’ll consider it.”

“I’m sorry, anyway”, she says, half-smiling. “For costing you your roommate.”

Ron sighs. “They grow up so fast.”

“And for all this, too. You were trying to hide, I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s all right. You had to find me eventually.”

#hp #hp fanfic #fanfiction #ron weasley #ginny weasley #jessie writes #at this point if there's typos in this .... exchange 'em for cookies at the till #also i like desperately need a tag for these two but it'll be meta as all hell #brotp: i'm a can on a string you're on the end #told ya.

[sunnysviolin]

Day Nine- Favorite Boss

Okay so this time I didn't forget to post this here I just hadn't finished it yet. SOOOOOOO yeah I'm playing catch up but we all knew it was gonna happen

“I had problems a therapist couldn't solve; grief that no man in a room could ameliorate.” ― Cheryl Strayed

“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form.” ― Rumi

In his time as a psychotherapist, Peter Roquefort had helped a number of eccentric patients. Generally the children he worked with were very special cases, kids who needed a special touch or a careful conversation digging deeper into what exactly was hurting them. Even among his peers Peter was known as the go to for the difficult ones, the ones who wouldn’t or couldn’t find a way to explain exactly what they needed. He had spent a lot of time in local police precincts working with children who had dealt with the worst humanity had to offer, and there were plenty of social workers that had both his work and personal cell numbers. He was dedicated to his profession, probably to a fault given his lack of a love life, and working with the kids was heartbreaking but exceptionally rewarding.

Still he had never encountered anyone quite like Sunny.

Sunny hadn’t trusted him with the entire truth of the story until quite a few weeks into their sessions. He and Peter had gone through a strange back and forth on what Peter had to tell others and what Peter had to keep secret. Of course in hindsight it made perfect sense, and Sunny was not a danger to himself or anyone else now so Peter had no reason to inform anyone of what had occured, but a lot of the teenager’s issues were made clear once Peter knew it all. Yes losing his sister to suicide was a tragedy, and yes finding her would have been highly traumatizing, but Peter couldn’t see how it would have caused the extent of Sunny’s psychosis.

Accidentally killing his sister and then helping his best friend to frame it as a suicide? Well...that would definitely be enough to give even the most well adjusted person some pretty severe issues.

But it was more than just the horrors of Sunny’s story, and there were quite a few there to unpack. It was also the way Sunny acted. He was a walking contradiction, one minute creative and open to share, the next shut down and silent. It was hard to piece together what of the boy’s memories were true, what were embellished the way memories get after someone in them dies, and which were the dissociative comforts of a child that was desperate to escape from himself. Peter had been working hard to help, but the layers of this case sometimes seemed far out of his depth.

Sunny sat in front of him now, sketching in his favorite book and periodically staring out the window. Sometimes their sessions went this way, with Sunny silently sketching and Peter occasionally interjecting to try and begin a conversation. It worked about half the time, but Sunny always seemed settled when he left no matter what they did, so Peter was content with these occasional quiet days. He craned his neck to look at what Sunny was doing now.

It was a brown pencil sketch, messy but refined. It was a girl with long hair, not his sister from what Peter could tell, and she was holding a rolling pin. Sunny was drawing a piece of bread next to her? As Sunny began to draw a face into the bread, Peter decided to cut in.

“Does this magic bread lady have a name?”

Sunny looked up and smiled, laughter in his eyes. He finished the face in the bread and turned it so Peter could see what he was doing. The bread had turned into a boy, who had bread for a head. Both the boy and the girl had sad expressions, but Sunny hadn’t drawn them in blue the way he usually drew sad people.

“Doughie,” Sunny supplied, and Peter nodded. A talking day then, “Her twin is Biscuit”

Peter made a note of the names on his notepad, something he kept near him for all of the names Sunny told him. These sounded like names related to his dreams, but Peter could never be positive. Basil and Hero were both very real people who lived in his old town according to Sunny.

“They don’t seem very happy,” Peter commented, letting his unspoken question stand. Sunny liked taking his time to answer, and Peter didn’t like to rush him. Sunny usually got uncomfortable with having to process a lot at once, and talking about his maladaptive daydreams was always a toss up.

“They feel trapped where they are, so they’re not happy,” Sunny replied, continuing to add details to the drawings. “They were the ones who created everything in the dreamworld. They baked everyone out of flour and then when someone became toast the unbread twins made them again. I based them on this set of twins Mari was sorta friends with,”

Mari wasn’t a subject that Sunny often brought up all on his own, so Peter took the chance while he had it to dig a little deeper. Keep it neutral, not emotions, just facts

“Mari was close with them?”

“With Daphne, the girl,” Peter's strategy worked. Sunny was fine with recalling facts that had nothing to do with him. This was just something that existed, it held no positive or negative charge. Peter dug further.

“Is that why you made them the creators in your dream world? Because she was friends with Mari?” Sunny looked up from his drawing, eyebrows furrowed as he muddled over the questions. Peter broke his own rule and elaborated on his question, knowing Sunny needed some more clarification, “Hero was Mari’s best friend as far as I remember, and he was just himself. I’m curious as to why these two specifically were so important,”

Sunny rolled his shoulders and tapped his pencil against the page in a staccato beat. Not good, Peter had unintentionally slipped into a previous unseen rabbit hole of Sunny’s mind, something that happened pretty often in their sessions. It seemed every time he thought he had discovered everything in Sunny’s past, there was another hurdle he had never expected jumping out. Unraveling the tangled web was immensely satisfying, but moments like this required precision.

“You know our rule, Sunny.” Peter said, interrupting the boy’s thought pattern wherever it had gone. Better to interject before Sunny came to his own conclusions on whether or not he could share this with his therapist.

“If I don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t,” Sunny parroted back, the words ingrained in his head from how often Peter said them. The man nodded, pleased that Sunny knew it and believed it enough to be able to say it back.

Then he sat back in his chair and waited, placing his notebook to the side. There were times where it was better to just be in the moment. He might miss a few details later recalling, but there were times patients just needed to be heard, not analyzed.Sunny went back to staring out the window and tapped his pencil, the beat less harsh and more dazed. He was somewhere back far away, and Peter mentally reminded himself to run through a grounding exercise before Sunny left for the day.

“It happened at Mari’s funeral,”

Peter bit the tip of his tongue, keeping his mouth shut and his face encouraging but not eager. The biggest thing he had learned in all of his time at practice was patience. He was not a patient man by design, he was someone that wanted to solve problems and was eager to help others. He had chosen a job that required an extreme amount of something he didn’t have much of, and Sunny needed that patience more than most. He wasn’t a talkative person, he wasn’t a person who shared easily, and Peter sensed he was about to get a story out of Sunny that the boy probably hadn’t told before. Sunny looked up and they stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking or breaking eye contact.

Whatever Sunny saw must have been the right thing to do, even if Peter had no idea what that was, because the boy sighed and shut his eyes, starting to talk.

“I don’t really remember much of it. We were at the church, my dad and the pastor spoke. People didn’t talk to me. They came and talked to my mom and dad before and after. Kel might’ve tried a little, but his mom pulled him away. I don’t know.” Sunny spoke in short sentences, pausing and considering his words between each one. It got like this when he spoke about hard things, things that needed courage or delicate phrasing. Peter was content to wait and draw it out.

“The only ones who talked to me were the twins. After we buried...after it was over. I was sitting on the steps of the church alone. My mom and dad were talking to the pastor, everyone else was gone. The twins walked out of the church and got down on my level.

Bowen didn’t talk. Daphne said some sort of prayer. I don’t remember it. Then she said that Mari wasn’t gone. But Mari was, we had just buried her. She said it again. Mari isn’t gone. She said Mari was the wind in the trees. The sound of a piano. The brightness of a smile. That Mari was someone new now, but it was okay because we would be reunited. She told me no one ever really died, not fully. Bowen gave me a necklace with a cross. Then they left,”

Sunny went back to drawing, and Peter let him, giving them both a minute to recover. The connection was obvious then. Sunny had been desperate at that point for any way to still have his sister, and there were two people telling him that she wasn’t really dead. Peter wasn’t particularly religious himself, but in this situation he could see the appeal of a god that told you that your loved ones were never going to be gone. Before Peter could point out this connection and try to get Sunny to expand on it, the boy spoke again, this time keeping his eyes on the drawings.

“The last time I was in Headspace, we fought the Unbread twins. At the end they left their bakery, and now Headspace is gone. Mari’s gone too. I don’t know if its for forever or not,” Sunny said, daring a quick glance up to his doctor. Peter hummed, pulling his notepad back into his lap and jotting down some quick things. A quick glance to his watch told him time was almost up for them.

“I don’t think I can tell you that Sunny. That’s all about your own beliefs,” Peter replied, answering the unspoken question the child had asked. It clearly wasn’t the answer he had been looking for, and Peter’s heart cracked for him. It would have been easy to go along with whatever idea had been planted in the boy’s mind, but that wasn’t Peter’s job. Still...leaving things here for the day didn’t feel right. Peter weighed his options and took the leap.

“I think that whatever you believe, Daphne was right about some things. There are parts of Mari that live on in you and the people that loved her. Not literally, but in the compassion you show others and the growth you want to have. It might not be a magical bread god that resurrects you every time you get hurt, but it’s a place to start.”

#omotober #omori #omori sunny #omori daphne #omori bowen #omori biscuit #unbread twins #omori unbread twins #omori mari

[ramblesanddragons]

Under The Moonlight

(For @lemonfodrizzleart based on her wonderful Mystery Farm AU mixed with Monster Falls. I really like Jackie as an OC and I hope I did her justice. A little treat for the spooky season. Normally I believe Gargrunk Stan can’t fly but maybe in this dimension he can!) 

Words: 1967

Warnings: None! Just some fluff with a little bit of feels.

As the sun set low in the October sky Stan was trying his best to put on something nice. The wings were making it a little difficult. Maybe it would be easier to go shirtless than mess up a good flannel, but he wanted to look nice. Jackie was looking forward to this, he wasn’t going to let her down.  

With a little fashion help from Kelvin, Stan was able to get his wings through some neatly cut holes. His tail wiggled into the hole in his jeans after a few tries. Shoes were a no go but at least his hat could rest in-between the horns on his head.  

Getting ready for a date had never been so frustrating.  

It was worth it though when he saw the smile on Jackie’s face. She was floating down the stairs, well more like fluttering. Even with all the draw backs of being a monster Jackie was enjoying being able to fly. The past few days she’d practically flown all over the farm.

Her dress was an off the shoulder affair in a deep black. A bit too fancy for a moonrise picnic but it was probably easier to deal with than anything else because of her own wings. He thin tail poked out of the bottom of the dress. Stan didn’t really care if it was too fancy. She looked incredible.  

“Ready?” She asked.  

Stan motioned to the blanket and basket in his hands and Jackie looped her arm around his stony one. Ford looked up from his notes. He was currently measuring the size of Kevin’s ears. It was only due to the golden fur covering his face that his twin wasn’t blushing up a storm being that close to his crush.  

“You two be careful. I’m not sure how well any of the town folk would react to seeing you.”  

“Look I’ve been planning this date for a week, Ford. No little monster curse is going ta stop us. You shouldn’t let it stop you either.”  

Ford gave Stan a look that said, “Shut the hell up!” while Kelvin was distracted with the bone left over from his steak. Out of all of them he was rolling with this monster thing the best and seemed to embrace his wolfish side. Ford was indulging in riddles more but most of his focus was trying to find a cure. His twin needed to take a break before he burnt himself out. The occasional accidentally catnap wasn’t enough.  

Stan could bother Ford to relax later. For now, he’d let him study Kelvin in peace. Maybe it would get him to finally ask him out. The official couple squeezed out the door with a wave and began to walk out into the orchard.  

If this curse wasn’t lifted by next week, the fall apple festival they held each year would be turning into a costume festival as well. Sure, folks around town were used to the weird but even they had their limits. That was something for next week Stan to worry about. Right now Stan wanted to put all his attention on Jackie.  

Jackie, who was also barefoot, would hop every few feet trying to catch a breeze. When she did, she’d flutter around the tops of the trees for a bit and return with a handful of apples.  

“Honey, tonight’s ‘posed to be about relaxing.”  

“Oh, I know. It’s just annoying to do it in the daytime. Sun hurts my eyes,” she explained. The picked apples were placed in bags and left by the trees. They could pick them up on the walk back.  

“At least you can go out in the sun,” Stan grumbled.  

Jackie gave him a sympathetic peck on the cheek and his grumbling morphed into a happy purring noise.  

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Yeah, yeah just don’t tell Ford.”  

She laughed and fluttered around the trees some more before they reached their picnic spot. The hill at the end of the orchard was silhouetted by the harvest moon. Maybe he needed to take Jackie on night dates more often. It was beautiful.  

The two of them settled their blanket down and began to eat. Stan wasn’t as good of a cook as Jackie, but he had made the fanciest sandwiches he could with homemade sides. Every item had a somewhat ridiculous amount of meat in it to satisfy his new carnivore diet, but Jackie didn’t mind.  

The two of them ate and talked and laughed. Stan offered her a blanket when the wind blew but Jackie declined.  

“Apparently demons don’t get cold. It’s nice.”  

“You know you might look like a demon, but I think of you as an angel baby.” Stan said with a smile. The smile faltered as Jackie laughed.

“How long have you been wanting to use that one? Very smooth lover boy,” she teased.  

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I love you no matter what you look like! Yeesh. I try to be sweet.” He rolled his eyes playfully before remembering that no one could tell when he was rolling his eyes anymore. His eyes were currently glowing orange orbs.  

Jackie’s eyes had a reddish cat in the dark like gleam to them. They were staring deeply at him. “I appreciate. At first, I was a bit weirded out by being turned into a succubus of all things, but you haven’t made me feel weird or different. I appreciate it.”  

“Of course. You’re amazing no matter what you look like.” Stan wrapped a stony arm around Jackie, and they sat and watched the stars for a few minutes.  

“Hey. I just got a great idea. We should take advantage of this who demon and gargoyle thing while we can,” Jackie said playfully.  

Stan gulped. “Well, I haven’t really pushed any ideas since I didn’t want you thinking that you being a succubus would effect anything. I love you for more than that and-”

“Let’s go flying!”  

“That...that is not what I thought you meant.”

“Oh, that can happen later. I know you’ve had a hard time keeping your hands off me.” Jackie winked and hopped-up leaving Stan slack jawed in the dirt. She laughed and stretched her wings wide.  

“I think we could get some good air from here but maybe we should head up on the cliffs.”

“I don’t think I can fly. Too heavy,” Stan said.  

“I bet you can. If your furball and feathers of a twin can, so can you. Although just in case we probably shouldn’t start with the cliffs. Let's try from here.  

The hill wasn’t high enough to set off Stan’s heights fear, but it was one of the best places to sled on the farm. With the right wind it could be enough for a decent take off as Jackie was proving. She ran a few feet and stretched her wings, diving down to catch speed then turning up. She whooped happily as she climbed higher and higher. It almost looked like she could touch the large moon.

“Come on baby you can do it!” She shouted from the sky.  

Stan gulped. He took a deep breath and went down the hill at a run. He jumped like he saw Jackie do but then tumbled head over tail down the rest of the hill. As he finally rolled to a stop Jackie landed beside him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Hard head remember.” For emphasis Stan tapped his head and it made stony thumping noise.  

“How about I do it with you? That might help.”  

“Jackie I... there’s something I haven’t told you.” Stan frowned, he hated admitting it. “I’m afraid of heights.”

Jackie tilted her head in confusion and then something clicked. “That’s why you get Ford to do anything that involves a ladder! That’s why you like to use the apple picking tool instead of climbing!”  

“Yeah. Pretty pathetic huh.”

“Of course not! Being afraid of heights makes sense! It’s not like humans can fly...normally that is. I just can’t believe we’ve been together this whole time and I didn’t realize it.”

“I did my best to try and hide it.”  

Jackie petted his head causing him to purr again. Her claw like nails made a scratching noise against his stone skin. “Don’t be afraid to tell me you’re afraid Stan. I know you got it in your head you’re supposed to be this tough, sturdy guy-”

“What gave you that idea?” Stan asked in faux offense. Jackie shot him a look and gestured to his gargoyle body. He chuckled and let Jackie finish her thought.

“What I was trying to say is that it’s okay to be afraid and all those other human things. You don’t have to put on an act for me.”  

Stan’s smile faltered and he took Jackie’s hand in his. “...I know.” Logically he knew that but there were times he could still hear his pa’s voice in his head telling him to be a man. Men weren’t afraid of things. Men didn’t have feelings. Men were tough as stone. That wasn’t the kind of man he was though, deep down, despite his current appearance. Sure, he was tough, but he felt all these other feelings too and he didn’t want to deny them. It was just hard sometimes. He was thankful to whatever above that Jackie was patient with him about it.  

They sat at the bottom of the hill until Stan’s head finished spinning. Then he hauled himself up.

“Let’s try again.”

“Stan, you got nothing to prove.”

“I know that but when am I ever going to have a chance like this again. With luck these wings are gone within the week.”

He trudged back up the hill and watched how Jackie took off running and caught the fall breeze in her wings. She swooped up and flapped her wings hard to get higher and higher. Waiting until the wind picked up again Stan charged down the hill on all fours. As dumb as he felt it worked and he was able to feel a lift on his body. He beat his wings as hard as he could and the ground under him disappeared. The sudden disappearance of the ground spooked him, and he stopped flapping. His stone body went tumbling again.

“Stan!”

“I’m okay. I almost got this. Stay there!”

Determined he tried one more time. This time the wind was with him as a strong gust rolled across the orchard sending leaves and some apples flying. He flapped with all his might and didn’t panic this time when he took flight. His body was heavy. He could feel the strain in his back from the effort, but it was worth it to see Jackie’s delighted face.  

“How are you doing?” She lowered herself down a few feet to meet him where he was steady.  

“Alright if I don’t look down or think about being 20 feet in the air.”  

“Come on! Just keep your eyes on me.” She took Stan’s hand and together they started to soar through the starlit sky around the farm. As terrifying as it was it was also beautiful. The two of them danced in the sky for as long as Stan’s wings could hold him.  

Landing was tricky but when they made it back to their picnic spot Stan managed to stay on both feet despite tripping. He was even able to catch Jackie in his hands as she landed.  

“That was amazing,” she said breathlessly.

“You’re amazing,” Stan responded.  

“You might not agree with that after this. Tag you’re it!” She yelled pushing him slightly. She took off into the air again.  

“Hey now hold on!” Stan laughed and shouted after her, taking off into the sky again.  

#Gravity Falls #My writing #Monster Falls AU #Mystery Farm AU #Stan Pines X OC

[marmosa]

it takes two.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: a little 18+ humor at a point, but it’s pretty low-key. 

A/N: this had some anti-olives discourse and i’m not sorry about it olives r fcking nasty. also [y/n]’s smell is daisy love by marc jacobs for reference, it’s a perfume i really like but i was like there is no way anyone knows what a fucking cloudberry is, so next time you’re at sephora or sumthin go get a whiff of it, it’s lovely. anywho hope you guys like it, i had tons of fun writing the banter in this one, hope it turned out as nice as i thought :) p.s i didn’t proof read this so sorry in advance <3

***

[y/n] hated potions. She hated it more than anything else on this planet and that was saying something considering olives were literally out there existing. Potions shouldn’t have been such a hard class for her, not when she had no problem in her other classes, and certainly not when all it included was following a damned recipe.

Which explained why she wanted to drive a dagger through her skull when Professor Snape announced they’d be spending the next few days preparing to brew amortentia. Not only was the romantic part of it so nerve wracking it made the entire class nauseous, but the prospect of messing it up and not smelling anything at all was even worse (for those who cared, at least).

“You’re dismissed. Make sure to study up on the potion before hand or you’ll sorely regret it,” Snape called out to the class in that tone of his voice that sounded like rancid milk. Was it mentioned that [y/n] also hated Snape? Yeah that too.

As [y/n] packed up her things, she felt a tap on her shoulder, “Speak of the devil.”

“I’m not the devil, I know you lot think ginger’s are evil, but I can assure you I am no devil,” Fred shook his head displeasingly, crossing his arms and leaning back against her desk, “Also, what a way to great someone, sheesh woman, you’d think you’d be more excited to see me.”

“Okay, firstly, there was no need for that whole spiel,” [y/n] held her hands up defensively, “Secondly, I only said that because I was just thinking about you before you arrived.”

Fred rolled his eyes at her back-tracking, but smiled smugly none-the-less, “Aww you were thinking of me? Nothing too naughty I hope,” he winked.

[y/n] flipped her bag shut and looked up at him with a deadpan expression, reaching up and punching his shoulder, “you wish, Weasley. The only naughty thing I’d be caught doing with you is tying you up to turn you in to the police.”

“Tying me up? Didn’t take you as the type for that sort of thing,” Fred grinned, biting back another remark as he watched her groan in annoyance but refuse to make eye contact with him, “but honestly, what were you thinking about?”

“Well,” [y/n] began, pulling at his sleeve to get him to follow her out of class, “You know we have this amortentia potion coming up and I’m doing shit in this class, but I was thinking you could help me study since you have a track record of being good in this class?”

“Hmm,” Fred pondered the offer, shrugging, “what’s in it for me?”

“You get to spend time with me?” [y/n] smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes dramatically to emphasize the effect.

“That’s a shit deal,” Fred chuckled, raising his brows with a small grin at [y/n]’s frown.

“Yeah, it is,” [y/n] sighed, an idea popping into her head, “but if I brewed it successfully you’d get to find out who I fancy, I know you’ve been poking around there because you’re an nosy git who won’t leave me alone about it.”

Fred scoffed in mock offense, tilting his head to the side, “Rude, but not false. Y’know, that does spice up the offer, but what’s stopping me from just finding out by having you smell someone else’s brew? And who’s to say I’m gonna know who smells like that anyway?”

“You’re so difficult,” [y/n] groaned, sinking her shoulders, “you know what, just forget it. I’ll go bother George or something, y’know the better twin.”

Fred’s smile fell as he screwed his features together, ”Excuse me? You’ve got some nerve you little-,”

“I don’t-woah!” [y/n] yelped as Fred tackled her to the side of the empty hall, trapping her against the wall, his hand planted to the side of her head and his other arm situated above her head.

“Take it back,” Fred demanded, giving her a once over, amused at the way she silently reeled over the position she’d just been put into.

“And why should I?” [y/n] snapped back, staring right back at him as soon as she’d gotten her bearings.

“Take it back,” Fred repeated simply, his voice low as he tried to coax his desired response out of her.

“Again, why should I?” [y/n] hummed, relaxing against the wall and looking at him with a sly smile.

Fred rolled his eyes and straightened himself back up, pushing his hair out of his face with one hand, “you’re no fun, you know exactly why.”

“No I don’t,” [y/n] continued, chimed in amusement, “do you think George isn’t as good as you?”

“Now don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Fred snipped, “you know just as well as I do that’s not true.”

“I don’t know, maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” [y/n] shrugged, biting back a laugh at Fred’s less than amused expression, “I’ll cut you a deal. You help me with potions and I don’t tell George your dirty little secret.”

“That’s not-,” Fred groaned, his argumentative spirit draining out of his body as his will to spend time with her won out, “Fine. But if you ever tell a lie like that to George, I’ll feel no remorse telling everyone and their mother that you like being tied up for fun.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” [y/n] hissed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What? It’s not like it’s true,” Fred teased, his smirk falling when she remained silent, “No way, [y/n] that’s got to be a lie.”

“So what if it isn’t? You’ll never know,” [y/n] giggled, biting back a smile.

“Now wait a minute-,” Fred began, startled at this random piece of questionable information, but was cut off as they arrived at [y/n]’s class.

“It was lovely chatting with you, but I will have to see you later,” [y/n] hummed playfully, giving him a quick hug before darting into her classroom leaving a shocked Fred to himself, “bye Freddie!”

***

“Do you think Fred likes me?” [y/n] rolled onto her stomach and looked over at her friend expectantly, bumping her ankles together to distract her from the rapid beating of her heart.

Nadya tossed her books to the side and slid her legs off the side of her bed, leaning forward to try and be level with [y/n], “Are you really asking me that right now?”

“What!” [y/n] scoffed, pouting, “it’s an honest question!”

“Of all things holy,” Nadya groaned, burying her face in her hands, “Of course he likes you? You really asked him to be your homework helper and he said yes. Who in their right mind willingly studies for potions?”

[y/n] chewed on the inside of her cheek, nodding along, “You are absolutely correct. But like, if he doesn’t, isn’t it going to backfire on me when he realizes I smell him in the amortentia potion?”

“Bold of you to assume that any man knows what he smells like,” Nadya chuckled, “Remember in grade school when the boys would wear that atrocious body spray? It was ghastly.”

“Again, you’re absolutely correct. But Fred has like a distinct smell, it’s like camp fires, caramel, and fire-whiskey,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself bask in the though of how lovely he was, “it’s wonderful.”

“Kinda creepy that you know how specific it is,” Nadya pursed her lips and titled her head to the side to avoid [y/n]’s flat glare.

“Oh yeah because yesterday you totally weren’t telling me about Sam’s ‘absolutely magical eyes’, your words not mine,” [y/n] hummed, a smug smile drawing itself across her lips.

“You’re a twat,” Nadya snapped back, rolling her eyes, “back to you, aren’t you suppose to meet him in the library in like 5 minutes?”

[y/n] glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and nearly feel onto the floor running to get her stuff, “Shit! Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“Because you were too busy talking about what Fred smelled like,” Nadya deadpanned, taking her turn to smile smugly.

“I would wipe that stupid look off your face if I wasn’t running late,” [y/n] narrowed her eyes teasingly, grabbing her textbooks, “see you at dinner?”

“See you at dinner,” Nadya affirmed, waving goodbye.

***

“Took you long enough,” Fred lulled, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m surprised you were here on time, especially for something as boring as homework,” [y/n] replied, setting all her stuff down and sliding into the seat across from him.

Fred looked at her dumbly, wanting to snap back but not knowing how to without admitting he was just excited to see her, “Shut up. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you were the one who asked for my help?”

[y/n] leaned her cheek onto her balled up fist and exhaled deeply, “Touché. You’re a handful Weasley.”

“You love it though,” He hummed, wiggling his eyebrows.

“That I do,” [y/n] chuckled, kicking his ankles playfully under the table.

“Well, if you need my help it’s counter productive to do it across from me isn’t it? You don’t want to be swinging a book around over and over again,” Fred mentioned while flipping through his own textbook to find the lesson.

“That’s a good point,” [y/n] shrugged, pushing all her stuff to the other side of the table and switching her seat, glancing over at his book to note the page number, “Y’know, I actually really appreciate you helping me out.”

“Hey, it’s no problem, volunteer work is important after all,” Fred teased, quickly back-tracking when she stared back at him blankly, “Kidding! You know I’ll always make time for you,” he mumbled, reaching over and squeezing her shoulder reassuringly.

[y/n] rolled her eyes and pretended to fish around her bag so he wouldn’t notice the embarrassed look on her face, “Thanks. Same for you.”

Fred chuckled softly, leaning his cheek onto his fist to watch her silently, admiring the way she looked out of uniform in her favorite sweater and pair of jeans. She practically glowed in the low light of the library, her hands constantly pushing a fly away of hair out of her face, her face screwing up in an adorable sort of annoyance. He was smitten, no doubt about it, and honestly- he was okay with that.

“What’re you looking at?” [y/n] muttered, catching his unwavering stare.

“Nothing, you’ve just got an eyelash on your face,” Fred played it off nonchalantly, reaching forward and brushing off the imaginary eyelash.

[y/n] tried her absolute best not to combust right then and there, thanking him quietly before redirecting his attention to the work, “So, what do you say we start here? The measurements are rather odd, wouldn’t you say?”

Fred bit back a smile and nodded, amused at the loss of her fiery attitude, his heart thumping loudly against his chest.

“Yeah, they are.”

***

“Fuck!”

Nadya glanced up from the journal sitting in her lap, the pair of eyes she was sketching seemingly following along with her as she located [y/n] standing in front of the mirror, looking ready to fall apart.

“What’s all this about then?” Nadya inquired, cocking her head to the side.

“We’re making the potions today and it didn’t seem like a big deal two days ago but the anxiety has finally caught up to me and I feel truly sick,” [y/n] shuddered, jumping up and down in place to try and shake out her prickling nerves.

“I know you’re worried, but what are the chances of anyone knowing what that smell is? By the way you described it, it’s so painfully specific that only someone who’s known him for ages would know,” Nadya reassured her panicking friend, smiling softly.

“I know, but what if-,”

“If you keep talking yourself into believing it you’re gonna be miserable. Just breath, go do your best, and have fun. Nothing will go wrong,” Nadya explained calmly, knowing just how much of a busy-brain [y/n] could get.

“Ah, you’re right, I’m only gonna make myself feel worse. I’ll stop, thanks Nadya,” [y/n] padded over and gave her a quick hug, “see you at lunch?”

“See you at lunch,” Nadya nodded, waving her goodbye.

***

“You’ve all finished brewing your amortentia I presume,” Snape spoke in that nasally tone of his, glowering at the class.

The class replied with a cacophony of “yes’s”, the anxiety of each person literally rolling off the walls in waves. People who had a fancy in that class practically had a neon sign above their heads that said so, while those who didn’t sat back and relaxed in peace as they pondered their grade.

[y/n] glanced over at Fred who caught her gaze, passing her an enthusiastic thumbs up, which she returned happily despite the knots forming in her stomach.

“Well then, if you’re done, get into your groups and test it out. Remember if you smell nothing that it doesn’t mean you failed the potion, you must reference the check list of properties before coming to a conclusion,” Snape explained, folding his hands behind his back, “is that clear?”

The class responded with “yes’s” once more and in an instant the room was bustling as the groups got to smelling their potions to test out the initial effects. [y/n]’s group agreed that they’d go clock-wise, leaving her last to test out the potion.

“It smells like honey, baked goods, and lavender,” Charlie spoke up, his cheeks tinging red as he probably registered quite who the scent was probably related to.  

“That’s a lovely combination,” Dina nodded, leaning forward and taking a whiff of their own brew, “truly I can’t smell much but there is a faint note of citrus,” they shrugged.

[y/n] and Timothy exchanged knowing glances, a fancy probably developing in Dina’s life that they hadn’t quite registered yet.

“My turn,” Timothy exhaled, nodding stiffly as if to reassure himself as he smelled the potion. His eyes nearly popped out his head as he took a step back fanning his face slightly, “that has got to be the strongest smell of herbs I’ve ever smelled- he’s probably been spending extra time in the Green Room, that twat.”

The group broke into laughter as he gracefully excused himself to go stand outside to let the smell filter out of his nose. As soon as he’d left, the group look at [y/n] expectantly, all excited to hear what she smelled.

[y/n] swallowed thickly and leaned over her pot, her nerves finally spiking as she took a whiff of the brew. Her heart nearly stopped in her chest when she finally registered the smell, her face growing hot, as an embarrassed expression pulled itself onto her features- of course it was him.

“So, what did you smell?” Dina chirped enthusiastically, leaning against the table.

“Yeah [y/n], what did you smell?”

[y/n] felt her heart drop to her feet, her eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and into the pot in front of her. Of course he was going to ask.

“You did promise you’d tell me,” Fred smirked, leaning against the table, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“That I did,” [y/n] chuckled awkwardly.

“I’ll cut you a deal this time. You tell me what you smelled and I’ll tell you what I did,” Fred offered, raising his brows to emphasize his tantalizing offer.

“Deal,” [y/n] nodded, rolling her shoulder a few times, “I smelled a camp fire, caramel, and fire whiskey.”

Charlie and Dina exchanged wide eyed glances, quietly agreeing that the smell was certainly unique and equally lovely before excusing themselves to go get a final grade from Snape.

“What a unique smell,” Fred hummed, eyeing her groupmates oddly “Guess I have to hold up my end of the bargain then. I couldn’t really tell you the specifics, but definitely berries, daisies, and driftwood.”

“That’s even more unique than mine, whoever you smelled sure does have a refined palette,” [y/n] giggled, calming down as she realized Fred had no clue who she was talking about with her own smell.

“She sure does. I think it’s her perfume or something, she wears it everyday so I recognized it almost immediately,” Fred chuckled, shrugging, “But fire whiskey, I truly wonder who that could be, you wouldn’t happen to be willing to tell me? Would you?” he bat his eyelashes innocently.

“In your dreams Weasley,” [y/n] huffed, shoving him playfully.

“Ouch, tough crowd,” Fred pouted, turning so his elbows were leaned onto the table behind him.

“You know I’m only keeping it from you for my own sanity,” [y/n] chuckled, reaching over and shaking his shoulder softly.

Fred chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing in the opposite direction from her, his mind clouded with doubt, wondering who this mystery person could possibly be- praying to everything holy that there was even a possibility of it being him.

Unbeknownst to him,  [y/n]’s internal dialogue was practically doing the same thing trying desperately to put a person to the smell he describe but coming up empty, her heart sinking slightly while she admonished herself for getting her hopes up too fast.    

“Well, you know I’m not gonna give up until I find out. I’ll sniff everyone in our year if it means getting my answer,” Fred teased, winking at her.

“That’s so creepy, you’ll be lucky if you can even get close enough to smell your own brother,” [y/n] laughed, letting her head roll forward slightly.

“Whatever you say,” Fred hummed, shimmying his shoulders to a silent tune, “better go get that grade of yours then, we didn’t do all that studying for nothing.”

“We might’ve since you couldn’t tell who I smelled,” [y/n] bit back a laugh when Fred glared back at her.

“You’re a twat.”

“I know.”

***

“Nadya! My dearest darling companion to ever to walk this planet, do you happen to know anyone who smells like caramel and fire whiskey?” Fred asked, throwing his arms around the two girls.

Nadya nearly spilled her drink at Fred’s sudden appearance, which didn’t particularly go down well with her, “Fred if you scare us like that again I’m going to hex you so severely you’ll be stuck in the infirmary trying to figure out how to get your wand out of your arse.”

Fred’s face drained of all it’s color (if that was even possible, being as pale as he already was), “Sorry Nadya, my bad.”

[y/n] stifled a laugh, continuing to munch on her piece of chicken, ignoring Nadya’s side eye that practically screamed “handle your own boyfriend”.

“But back to your question, I can’t say that I do, who do you have in mind so far?” Nadya humored him, trying her best to give leeway to both her best friend and her best friend’s crush.

“Well, as [y/n] so wisely said, it’s too creepy to go around and sniff people, so I’m just going off of hunches. Oliver seems like a likely candidate and so does Casper, but I’m still not sure,” Fred sighed, obviously already impatient in his search.

Nadya glanced over at [y/n] who was all to comfortable pretending she wasn’t a part of the conversation, happily sipping at her cider.

“I’m not gonna say anything, you can search for as long as you’d like, I’m not budging,” [y/n] shook her head, smiling all too amused, patting Fred’s head patronizingly.  

“You’re no fun,” Fred pouted, huffing and standing back straight, dusting off the invisible dust on his robes, “Well since I’m not gonna get an answer out of either you, I’ll take my search elsewhere, see you around.”

“Bye Freddie,” [y/n] chirped, waving goodbye to him, “So you were right.”

Nadya broke into laughter, elbowing [y/n] playfully, “I told you! You got so worked up and he hasn’t even gotten close to an answer.”

“Casper, he really thinks I’d like Casper? He’s lovely and all but imagine having to sit through him telling you about how handsome he is? That sounds absolutely awful,” [y/n] shook her head, giggling at the thought.

“I truly think he’s just lying to himself at this point, there’s no way he’d be that dumb,” Nadya claimed, refiling her cup.

“I think so too, you know Fred though, he love’s a good challenge,” [y/n] shrugged, taking another bite of her chicken, “well have to see.”

***

“Okay, I think I’ve figured it out!”

[y/n] groaned and pressed her palms into her eyes, sinking as far as she could into the couch that she thought was tucked at the very back corner of the library, “please, it’s been nearly two days! You haven’t given it up yet?”

“Not at all, it’s fun, irritating, but fun,” Fred beamed, skipping over and plopping down next to her on the couch, “See I think I’ve narrowed the search down to these three guys.”

[y/n] glanced down at the small sheet of paper he held out to her and then back at him, a tired sag in her eyes as she felt guilt start to push against her chest. Maybe she was in the wrong for letting him run around and play a fruitless guessing game that she knew he would probably never get the answer to.

“I’m thinking if you give me another clue, I could zero it down to-,”

“It’s not them Fred.”

Fred fell quiet as [y/n] pushed his hand down, taking the paper and tossing it on the small table to her side, pushing his fingers into a small fist that she held gingerly, “It’s not anyone you’ve guessed.”

[y/n] sighed and swallowed her nerves, deciding it was now or never, that if she didn’t say something now she would be tormented by regret and Fred’s relentless guesses for the rest of her life.

“It’s no one you know because,” [y/n] looked away, literally incapable of meeting the wide inviting look he was giving her right then, “it’s you Fred. I like you.”

When she was met with silence, the rock finally started to settle at the pit of her stomach, her brows knitting together as she bit back her bubbling emotions. She tried to pull her hand back but had it quickly snatched back by Fred who had threaded their fingers together.

“I knew it,” He grinned, cupping her face with one hand and pulling her to him, his lips pressing against hers extremely gentle for how abrupt the kiss had been.

[y/n]’s eyes went wide before sinking shut, her free hand wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. They sat like that for a while, the quite chatter of the other students background noise to the gentle kisses they passed between one another, the pent up impatience and nervousness draining out of them with each and every kiss.

The two of them finally pulled away, a red hue fanned over Fred’s face, his freckles even more noticeable now that she was up this close.

“Shit, I didn’t ask permission to kiss you, did I?” Fred mumbled bumping his forehead against hers, squeezing their still intertwined hands.

“It’s okay, at least I kissed back, yeah?” [y/n] whispered, thumbing over the small scar on his cheek, probably from a quidditch match.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll be better about it though,” Fred promised, tilting his head to the side to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Me too,” [y/n] smiled, adoration practically rolling off of her in waves, “wait- what did you mean you knew it?”

Fred pulled back and sat up straight, his lips pressed together so tightly he was practically forcing all the blood out of them, “Well, I kind of already knew from the time your tablemates sort of left us alone in potions. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

[y/n] felt her face fall, her mouth getting stuck open in an o shape, as she stared at him dumbly, “you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately no,” Fred giggled, placing both of his hands on the sides of her face, “don’t be mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, just disappointed in myself, that shit’s embarrassing for me!” [y/n] groaned, placing her hands on top of his.

“Well it all worked out in the end didn’t it?” Fred chimed, his lips stretching out into a grin.

“I suppose it did,” [y/n] hummed thoughtfully.

“Now the real question is how you didn’t know what your own perfume smelled like,” Fred quipped, immediately bouncing back to teasing her.

“Oh for god’s sake, do I look like I research perfume scents in my free time?” [y/n] scoffed.

“A little bit,” Fred muttered.

“You know what never mind, don’t you ever try to kiss me again,” [y/n] shoved him off her playfully, scooting all the way to the opposite end of the couch.

“Now don’t be like that,” Fred groaned, crawling over to her.

“Nuh uh, nope,” [y/n] shook her head, sticking out her legs in a feeble attempt to stop his advance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, too late, come here.”

“I said no- fine! Fine, goodness gracious.”  

“Mhm, that’s what I thought, now give me another kiss before you have to go back to doing boring homework.”

“Fine.”  

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x [y/n] #[y/n] #hogwarts #harry potter #fred weasley imagines #mar writes

[chatonne-rousse]

Orange You Glad I'm Not Seeing Green (Nope, Totally Not Jealous At All)

A continuation of my Gifts from the Heart series, the whole of which is written as a gift for my dear friend @sketchy-panda.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Follows Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike, which can be found here.

*********

The first forty-two minutes had gone so well.

Marinette was acting weird, but a normal, endearing weird - the kind of weird that warms his chest with affection and makes him smile. There is no one quite like her, and Adrien knows her friendship is a sweet blessing indeed. Even if it takes a moment or two to decipher her jumbled sentences sometimes. Even if she's a teeny tiny bit of a disaster.

When Ms. Bustier had paired them up for a literature project, he was thrilled. Adrien would never scoff at the chance to spend time with his dear friend, much less to enjoy a window of escape, however short, from the echoing silence of his own home. He'd turned to her with unabashed excitement to find her cheeks and ears pink and a strange mix of joy and terror in her eyes.

"Yay!" she'd squeaked, the word accompanied by awkward jazz hands. This had prompted a nudge under the table from Alya that didn't escape his notice. With that, she'd taken a deep breath, set her shoulders, and asked if he'd like to come over after school to work on it together.

Would he ever! The wave of happiness that had risen in his chest must have shown on his face, but when Marinette's smile had softened to match, he realized he didn't care if he grinned like a fool in front of the class. An afternoon with a friend - a friend! - was such a rare treat. And he's already read The Three Musketeers, so he'd been sure this would be a breeze.

And it was. Until six minutes ago, when they realized that the plate of cookies they'd been snacking on had dwindled to one. This discovery came by way of both of them reaching for it without looking, hands meeting over the plate amidst blushing cheeks and murmured apologies. With an awkward laugh, he'd taken the final cookie, carefully broken it roughly in half, and offered the slightly larger piece to his wide-eyed project partner.

Their fingers brushed in the handoff. She breathed a thank you. He smiled graciously.

It all happened so quickly after that.

Before he could take a bite of his cookie, her elbow had knocked into her glass, sending orange juice across her desk, her lap, his stocking feet.

"Disaster!" Marinette had shrieked, prompting Mrs. Cheng to peek through the open trap door a few moments later, looking first at her daughter dancing frantically around her now-toppled desk chair and then to a bewildered Adrien, still holding half a cookie in one hand and Marinette's keyboard, rescued from the rogue wave of orange juice, in the other.

She'd just smiled. "I'll bring up some towels, dears."

Adrien could only nod.

Now, Marinette stands in front of her sink, wiping the front of her pants with a damp towel and sighing every thirty seconds. He's barefoot, his socks whisked off to parts unknown, ostensibly to be laundered, though he'd protested that wasn't necessary. Their cookie and juice supply has been refilled, and calm has settled over the room again. Sort of.

"I'm so sorry, Adrien," she says quietly, a tinge of misery at the edge of her voice. "I'm so clumsy."

He tries to make her smile the best way he knows how. "It's okay, Marinette. Orange you glad it didn't get on your drawings for the project?"

She stops trying to clean off her jeans and raises her eyes to his. "Did you just...?"

His eyes gleam. "You know, workers in the orange juice factory will lose their jobs if they can't concentrate."

Her surprised giggle is incredibly gratifying. He takes it as a green light to continue. "Do you know what language oranges use to talk to each other?" When she shakes her head, he gleefully answers, "Mandarin!"

"You'd fit right in, then!" Marinette laughs heartily, the sound making his grin widen until it hurts. (It's worth it.)

"Well, I am very a-peeling. I have a real zest for life."

She groans, though she's still laughing, and facepalms with the hand holding the towel. Adrien watches as she realizes how sticky it is against her face, throws it on the counter, and blushes when she makes eye contact with him once more. His own smile never dims. Making a friend laugh like this is one of life's great joys. Laughing with a friend like this is one of the greatest.

Finally, she washes her hands at the sink and he takes a moment to right her desk chair, gazing around the room to the sound of her drying her hands. Magazine photos of him still remain, though they mix on corkboards and wall collages with pictures of friends and family. His own face smiles - truly smiles - back at him from several of them. He remembers each of these days, shining memories with beloved friends that he treasures. He's glad Marinette treasures them, too.

His gaze slides to the corner of her desk, near her sewing machine and a large box he assumes is full of sewing notions, and his breath catches. There, on twin display stands to keep them upright, are two figurines he doesn't know how he missed earlier. Ladybug holds her yo-yo in her right hand, Chat Noir's baton is held in his left. Their tiny plastic hands clasp in the middle, just as they were molded to do for the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition figures he would know anywhere.

Marinette sits back down in her desk chair, looks at him, then follows his gaze to the figurines. Adrien turns his eyes to her.

"I didn't know you were a superhero fan, Marinette!"

She laughs a nervous laugh as a blush rises to her cheeks. "Me? A fan of Chat Noir? Psssh." She waves a hand as if to dismiss the idea.

He isn't sure if he should be offended or gratified. He'd certainly prefer the latter.

"Why wouldn't you be a fan? I am. I think the heroes are awesome."

"You do?" she breathes, eyes wide.

"Of course! Paris is lucky," he elbows her arm gently and winks, "to have them."

Her giggle makes him smile again. He always feels so light and so carefree here, in her warm home, with her friendly parents and a plate of cookies and the sweetness she seems to radiate in his presence. Paris is lucky to have superhero protectors, but he's lucky in his own way to have found this kind of gentle contentment in a world denied to him for so long.

"I guess we should get back to the project--"

"Where did you get them?"

They each speak at the same time, twin blushes and stammered apologies following just as with the cookie incident.

Marinette breaks the ensuing awkward silence first. "One of my best friends gave them to me."

"I'm not surprised," Adrien responds with a grin. "Alya might be the biggest fan in Paris!"

The blush on her cheeks spreads to the tips of her ears and her eyes widen before she blinks. "Oh, um...it wasn't Alya." Marinette looks at her hands in her lap and then back up to him. "But she does have this set. She's kind of obsessed."

Strange, he'd never heard about any other best friends from Nino or Alya, though that didn't mean Marinette didn't have a very close online friend or someone in the design community she just hadn't talked much about before. He hopes this person knows what a good friend she has in Marinette, that she treasures her like Marinette deserves to be treasured. Though of course she'd gifted her with the set of figurines, so this friend at least knows quality merch when she sees it. Adrien's heart warms at the thought of Marinette having such good friends. She deserves nothing less.

"Adrien? Are you okay?"

He blinks twice, shaking himself from his reverie. "Oh. Yeah. I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You were far away for a minute there."

He smiles warmly. Marinette is so thoughtful. "I promise. I was just thinking what a great best friend she must be to have given you such a cool gift."

"Oh," she says quietly, looking at the figures again, though Adrien is still focused on his friend. He watches as her eyes soften and her smile turns gentle before she speaks again. "He definitely is. There's no one better."

Her gaze snaps to his again. "I mean! I'll bet you're better! At being hot. I mean cool! I mean..." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "So! The Three Musketeers, eh?" She pulls her notebook back in front of her and opens it to a random page that contains nothing having to do with Alexandre Dumas. She laughs nervously, resolutely staring at the page and not the boy beside her.

The boy who hasn't breathed since her quiet "oh." The boy whose brain is still stuck on one word.

He.

Adrien can feel his smile turn brittle at the edges and forces his face to remain neutral, but it's difficult all of a sudden.

It shouldn't bother him. It shouldn't affect him at all. Marinette is friends with Nino, Kim, and Max, and he doesn't think twice about it. Why should he? This is different, though, somehow. An unknown entity. A boy friend he's never heard of who makes her expression soften like that, with memories of private jokes and gift exchanges and laughter. Probably. That's probably what it's like with Marinette and her other best friend, who isn't Alya and whose name he doesn't know.

An odd feeling twists his stomach. Adrien doesn't like it.

"Well," he starts, sliding his own notebook over and opening to the last page they'd been working on before the orange juice spill, "he has very good taste in Ladybug and Chat Noir merchandise. I have that same set myself."

"You do?" she squeaks, and their eyes meet again.

"I do. But I didn't take mine out of the packaging." He chances a cheeky half-smile at her, the knot in his stomach loosening just a fraction at the smile she returns. "Mine will be pristine when the set is worth millions someday."

When she laughs, the tension in his chest dissipates like springtime dandelion seeds, floating away on a sudden breeze of fresh, sweet joy.

Maybe Marinette's mysterious best friend can make her laugh like this, but right now, Adrien is the one sitting beside her - something rare and precious and not to be taken for granted - and it makes no sense to do anything other than enjoy the moment.

#gifts from the heart series #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrien 👏 loves 👏 marinette 👏 #but he's not jealous at all #why would he be? #gift fic #love you sketchy! #miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #ml fic #my writing