#maj tries to edit

[wenn-der-film-reisst]

Has this been done yet?

Inspired by this post:

#ignore the fact that they look orange pls #my source for taking Screenshots is not the highest quality #maj tries to edit #m*a*s*h #mash 4077 #henry blake #colonel potter #hawkeye pierce #trapper john mcintyre #margaret houlihan #max klinger #radar o'reilly #bj hunnicutt #mash

[sergeant-spoons]

47. Who Came Up The Bristol Channel?

Leslie Sheppard

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​ @50svibes​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​

This batch of updates (47-49) is dedicated in tandem to my wonderful mutuals @mercurygray​ (for @’ing me in her Thankful Thursday event - I am so humbled and thankful in return) and @thoughpoppiesblow (for making a beautiful edit for Kate August almost immediately after I introduced her with this post-war snippet). Love you both so much!! Thank you!

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

The temperate sun of the early English Spring bore down on the 101st Airborne Infantry, warming their faces despite the cool morning air. Skip told Leslie at breakfast that morning that Ramsbury was where they held all the jump training nowadays. Starting from Aldbourne, it was a five-minute drive and an hour-long hike, but that was only for a single Company marching in time. Wisely, Major Horton and the other higher-ups had decided that moving the entire Infantry on the morning of March 23rd would necessitate the use of transports. The Buick Specials and GMCs rumbled onto the road just after 6:00 hours. It was now noon and the jump demonstration they'd been preparing for all month was nearly concluded. All they were waiting for now was the top brass to approve of their decorum—or, in layman's terms, their line formations, their uniforms, how well they were standing at attention, that sort of thing. 

A bee buzzed past Leslie's helmet. She watched it fly away but made no other movement other than the slightest tilt of the head. She stood with the other sergeants, awaiting the ceremony's end. With Danny Huff on one side and Kiko on the other, she felt rather lucky with her placement. Poor Tink was stuck behind Cowboy Bennett, the tallest member of the Mechorps. This jump was a massive deal—General Eisenhower and the British Prime Minister Winston Churchill had come to see it together. Leslie was certainly not the only one excited to hear the news last night. There had been rumors, but to have it confirmed was something else entirely. Clearly, what they were rehearsing for here (and what they had just demonstrated) was an enterprise of a scale they'd never tried before. Officers like Col. Sink and Maj. Horton knew what it was all about, but even Lt. Nixon, intelligence officer that he was, couldn't provide Easy or the Mechorps any information, and not because he wasn't allowed—he simply didn't have any to give.

Churchill and Eisenhower had passed by the Mechorps earlier. Mama E met them in a salute, and though both men seemed initially startled at her general existence, by the time they left they had both deigned to shake her hand. Kiko was practically vibrating in her boots beside Leslie as the two men passed, and Leslie had to stop herself from reaching out and touching her friend's hand to remind her to breathe. She kept a close eye on Churchill, in particular, wondering what it was about the PM that had convinced so many to make him one of the most powerful men in the world. She didn't think he was all that spectacular up close. He didn't smile once—not, at least, while he was turned to her. She supposed she liked his hat, and his speckled bowtie was a little funny, but that was all.

Eisenhower wasn't much better. He smiled much more than Churchill, but Leslie wasn't sure that was better. The more she looked at him, the more he appeared like a gremlin in the bedtime stories Franklin would make up to scare his younger siblings on scorching summer nights. Hiding under the covers was unbearable in the heat, so they all had to sleep on top of the same mattress to protect each other. Franklin was like a human icebox; he always slept in the middle. Gutsy little Leslie braved the edge. Sometimes Don and his siblings would be over, too, and squealing at Franklin, they'd all pile onto a few beds, wide-eyed and whispering until they fell asleep one by one, leaving one last protector (usually Nora) awake. In the morning, the waking-up made the fright worth it. Crusty-eyed and yawning, they stumbled down the stairs toward the sound of Franklin singing while pancakes and eggs sizzled in pans on the stove.

As the bee came back around, Leslie smiled—those were good memories, waking up to find Don half on top of her, giggling as she rolled him off and he pretended to snore, him clawing his way back on top of her until she either let him sleep a little longer or pushed him off the bed onto the fuzzy, carpeted floor, where he'd whine until she tumbled down and lay there with him.

"Psst. Sheppard." 

Danny elbowed her rather unsubtly, and Leslie twitched, hoping someone like Sobel hadn't seen. Still, Danny persisted until she hissed his name, and even then, he wouldn't forego his inquiry.

"Ain't that your fella over there?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth. "Your Malarkey?"

Leslie looked over to where she knew Easy Company to be standing and picked Don out with ease, first because he was Don but second because Ike Eisenhower himself was shaking his hand. As her heart swelled with pride, she tried to hold back a smile to no avail. Though she knew she was supposed to be maintaining a neutral expression, she couldn't help it, delighted to see Don singled out so positively.

"Sure is," she whispered back to Danny, too happy to care if it was wise to leave him wondering whether Don was or wasn't 'her Malarkey' after all.

The whole shebang was over by the middle of the hour, and when Mama E finally dismissed the Mechorps, they mingled amongst themselves, chatting eagerly about the demonstration and complimenting each other's immaculately sewn chevrons. Their captain drew Kiko aside for a minute, but Leslie and Tink hardly noticed, exchanging teasing encouragements every which way they turned. Leslie stood up on her tiptoes to eye the crowd, hoping Don, Skip, and Penk would make their way over as soon as they could, but she'd lost sight of them. Michael Michaud hooked his arm around hers and suggested she join him and a number of the others for lunch on the town, and she eagerly agreed, but before she would leave with them, she had to check whether or not Kiko and Tink wanted to come. It turned out that both women had already started back to the base, hitching a ride in their commander's jeep, so Leslie grabbed Don, Skip, Penk, and Alton More when they emerged from the crowd, and they all set off for a rowdy lunch downtown.

"So what'd Ike say to you, you lucky sonuvabitch?" Leslie asked as she munched on a french fry, having to lean close to Don for him to hear, and he casually slung his arm over her shoulders, grinning.

"He asked me about home and how I liked England."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

Leslie grinned around the straw of her soda.

"This is the kind o' thing you tell your grandkids about someday, y'know."

"Sure is. I'm gonna blow their minds."

He stole a fry straight from her hand, and when she protested, he kissed her forehead and laughed at her pout.

"Pop-Pop shook General Eisenhower's hand and talked about the weather with Winston Churchill—imagine that."

Back at the base just after 2:00 hours, stalling for time before afternoon lectures, the foursome from Easy (plus Leslie) lounged in the shade under a copse of poplar trees behind the medbay, trading stories and teasingly congratulating Don for his encounter with Eisenhower.

"Bet Ike's gonna tell his son 'bout you," Penkala teased. "'Say, son, I never met a more redheaded man in all my days. Never a more freckled one, neither'."

"Don't try to do voices, Alex," Leslie scolded, laughing, "you're no George Luz!"

"Oh, c'mon, I could do the voice if I tried—'Four score and seven years ago'-"

"That's Lincoln, you dolt!" Skip guffawed.

"Says who?"

"The hist'ry books!" More refuted, and the three of them began to squabble.

Chuckling a sigh of amusement, Leslie inclined her head onto Don's shoulder. He shifted a bit to give her more of a slope to lean on, but she didn't have much of a chance to get comfortable before a familiar figure came speeding out of the sunshine with her cap all crooked atop her head and a brilliant smile upon her lips.

"Lady! Lady! You'll never guess what news I've just got, it's really somethin' else-"

"What is it?" Leslie cried, hurrying to her feet with Don close behind. "What, Tink, what?"

"They wrote to me weeks ago, sayin' they weren't gonna get my birthday present to me in time, an' that's okay, you an' Kiko an' Skip threw me a whale of a party-"

"We sure did," Skip agreed, now nibbling on a stalk of wheatgrass as he, Penk, and More looked up at Tink, preferring to hear her news over their petty argument.

"-but they said it'd come, my present would come, and it has!"

"It has? What is it?"

Penk leaned one way and Skip leaned the other as if they thought Tink was somehow hiding the wonderful something in a third hand behind her back. Leslie laughed and pushed at Skip's head, beckoning for Tink to go on.

"It's in Cardiff now, they're in Cardiff in Wales, and they came up the Bristol Channel and- Augh! I'm so excited!"

"That's wonderful, Tink, but who wrote to you? Who came up the Bristol Channel?"

"My brothers, didn't I tell you?!" Tink yelped, too enthused for Leslie to reply that no, she hadn't told her. "My brothers Joey and Jack and my cousin Janie, come all the way to Wales to see me!"

Leslie, Don, and Penk started to cheer, and Skip grabbed Tink and twirled her around, singing "The Battle Hymn of the Republic"—Glory, glory, Hallelujah! To get out of their way, Leslie jumped back and fell right against Don. Laughing, he steadied her, and when she looked up at him, he was grinning.

"Why, hello there."

"I think my heart just might burst, Mr. Malarkey," she exclaimed, fanning her face and leaning dramatically against his chest. "What a day it's been!"

"That's Private Malarkey to you," he laughed, and she rolled her eyes and puffed her chest out.

"I'm a sergeant, Private, not to mention your best friend of a decade, I think I've earned the right to call you whatever I so please."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" 

As More and Penk joined Skip's singing, Don took her hand and got her to dance with him, too. 

"Like Don," she supposed, grinning and spinning, "and 'Lark, and 'hot stuff'-"

He barked a laugh, but his cheeks were turning a little pink, and before Leslie could tease him about it, Kiko came running up, and that was more than enough to distract them all.

"Woah, Kiko, catch your breath," Leslie encouraged. "You're never in a rush like this—what's up?"

"I've got great news," she told them all, panting her way through the declaration. "Great, wonderful news!"

A shout came from farther into the base, and the group gave pause.

"Shit, that's Sobel."

After a beat during which everyone's happiness felt a little threatened, Alton More clambered to his feet with a hearty sigh.

"Sounds like he's calling for some help with some shit, not the whole Company. But if he comes around the whole corner, he'll grab all of you." A meaningful look, especially at Kiko and Penk, then Leslie and Don. "I'll go."

Looks of relief all around.

"Thanks, Alton! You're the man!"

"Come back over when you can, yeah?"

"We owe you one, More!"

"Yeah, I know, yeah, I will, and yeah, you sure fuckin' do," he called back, but he was waving them off, and as soon as he was gone around the corner, they all turned back to Kiko. Tink and Skip bounced with anticipatory excitement. Leslie squeezed Don's hand. The rest stood tensed with bated breaths. Kiko, who had managed to compose herself in the interim, flashed a brilliant smile (that made Penk blush) and delivered the third joyful happenstance of the day.

"Judy Garland's gone on a tour of England, a war tour, with the USO, for the troops-"

"Judy Garland's in England?"

"With the USO?"

"On a war tour? For troops like us?"

"Yes, in England, yes, with the USO, and yes, for troops like us! Even better—oh, you're all going to love me for this—she's coming to London next week, it's her last show on the tour, and I've got tickets!"

The response to this revelation blew the reaction to Tink's news out of the water. All those gathered hastened to agree that yes, they loved Kiko before, but even more now. What fantastic news! Clamoring for details, they wheedled out of her the date (next Friday, the 31st), the number of tickets (6), and how she'd gotten said tickets (Mama E got wind of the tour and told Kiko she'd drive her and a group of her friends to the station in Swindon and pay for the tickets, the hotel, and the train fare as a late birthday present to her favorite mechanic), but then Tink tumbled to the ground mid-cartwheel and, alarmed, they momentarily forgot their questions. Amid inquiries as to her wellbeing, their friend sat up and shook her pale hair, steadying herself with her palms flat to the earth, and they saw her brown eyes had gone wide with realization.

"Seven!" she insisted, springing back to her feet. "We've got to get seven!"

"Seven what?"

"Seven tickets!"

"Why?"

As she listed her friends, Tink ticked them off on her fingers. "You, me, Lady here, your respective boyfriends, Skip, and-"

"Respective boyfriends?"

"Sorry—boyfriend and fiancé."

Leslie made a face and mumbled her usual denial, but the other girls had already moved on with business, having learned long ago not to take any thought of Leslie and Don being a couple seriously.

"Right, so, that's six," Kiko figured, "that's all of us."

"But what about George?" Tink looked aghast. "He's gotta come! You know how much he loves Judy Garland!"

They all blinked at her until she went a little pink and tugged at her jacket sleeve.

"Or did he tell just me that?"

"I think it might have been just you," Leslie concluded, suppressing a smirk. "But yes, he should definitely come—think you could get one more ticket outta Mama E, Kiko?"

"After today's good fortune?" their commander asked, coming up to the girls with a growing smile. "Absolutely. Who for?"

As the girls cheered, Don informed her it was for George Luz.

"Speak of the devil," Mama E said. "Lucky Number Seven just asked me where to find you lot—and here he comes now."

"What's all the hullaballoo about?" George started to ask, coming around the poplars, his cheeks a little pink from sunburn, but he could barely get the words out before a gleeful Tink jumped him in a hug.

"George!"

"Woah!" He stumbled back a foot, but he was quick to wrap his arms securely around her, and Leslie did not miss the fondness in his laughter as he set Tink back on her feet. "I know I'm amazing, but what'd I do this time?"

"We're gonna go see Judy Garland live in concert!" Tink blurted out, and George lit up like the Christmas tree at Rockefeller.

"What! No way!" 

Grinning, he grabbed her by the hands and spun around, and for the second time in the last half hour, Tink was persuaded to dance. George started singing as they hoofed it, and the others clapped a rhythm, grinning as they watched. Tink and George made a pretty pair, prancing lithely across the hard ground in perfect unison despite their chunky uniform boots.

"The bells are ringing for me and my gal. Oh, the birds are singing for me and my gal! Well, everyone's been knowin', to a wedding they're goin', And for weeks they've been sewing every Susie and Sal..."

As their friends applauded his singing, Tink laughed merrily, entirely missing the premise of the song despite George's glaring blush.

"Oh, I hope she sings that one! It just makes you wanna dance!"

"It sure does!" George twirled her away, looking a bit wistful. "You lucky dames. Wish I was goin' too."

"But you are!" Leslie informed him "Which is thanks to good ol' Tink here. So maybe you oughta say-"

"No fuckin' way!"

Leslie, Don, Skip, Penk, and even Mama E all started laughing, but Kiko held a straight face and tut-tutted at George.

"No, no," she insisted. "Say-"

"Right!" George picked Tink up by the waist and spun her around the way they did in the movies like For Me and My Gal. "Audra Luchette, you are officially my favorite person in the whole damn world! Thank you! From the bottom of my very affectionate heart, thank you!"

"Officially your favorite?" Tink laughed, reddening at his adoration. "Do I get a medal for that? Or a badge?"

"You sure deserve one," George said sweetly, and Tink's blush deepened as he let her down, her hands on his shoulders. She was laughing, trying to play it off, but George was looking at her so endearingly that it made Leslie wonder how Tink hadn't yet realized how much he adored her. She looked at Don, who was already looking at her, and they shared a knowing smile.

"Captain Eades!" George exclaimed, spinning on his heels, and as he went to shake her hand, chattering on about his excitement, Leslie grabbed Tink's sleeve and tugged.

"You're staring."

"Am not."

"Well, you'd better get going, boys," Mama E declared before Leslie could contradict Tink's obvious lie, "and you girls had better come with me, or else you'll all be late." 

They saluted her and agreed, gathering up their things, and the captain tapped her watch, harrumphing under her breath.

"Now, I'm not much of a stickler for scheduling things down to the second, but I know your commanding officer is..."

She stuck out her tongue and drew her finger across her throat as she rolled her eyes, astonishing the group into hilarity. As she watched them separate into Easy and Mechorps, she chastised them for laughing as if she didn't know what on earth they could possibly find so funny.

"I'd better see you in the garage in the next five minutes, ladies, or it'll be latrine duty for the rest of the week."

Two out of the three of them already had latrine duty, but Kiko, the lucky outlier, wrinkled up her nose; when they all replied with the customary "Yes'm!", hers was by far the keenest.

"Then hop to it!"

"She's right, you know," Leslie agreed as they hustled off with quick waves of farewell to their less fortunate friends. "These daydreams won't dream themselves."

"Uh-huh. They're all yours, Tink."

"Oh, shut up."

Kiko and Leslie tried not to smirk, but then they looked at each other and promptly failed.

"I was thinking about London, but hey, if you've got something else—or someone else—in mind..."

"It's okay, Tink, we won't tell if you-"

"They're congregatin' for me and my gal, while the parson's waitin' for me and my gal," Tink belted, clutching her satchel closer to her chest, very much an I can't hear you move.

"If you fall a little bit in love!" Leslie shouted, but Tink only got louder.

"And sometime, I'm gonna build a little home for two three or four or more!"

Leslie chuckled and slowed down, and Kiko took the cue to follow suit as Tink, oblivious, rushed into the garage at full speed.

"You really think she could..?" Kiko asked after a beat, glancing between Leslie and the open side door, out of which still wafted Tink's singing.

"In love land for me and my gal..."

"Oh, yeah."

Leslie smiled, a little hopeful but also a little sad that things weren't quite as easy for Tink as she might pretend. But still, the way she'd looked after George, batting her lashes against awe beaming down like sunshine...

"I think she might be starting to already."

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

#leslie sheppard #band of brothers #leslie sheppard ficlet #leslie sheppard 47: who came up the bristol channel? #destiny carries a wrench #kelani palekiko #audra 'tink' luchette #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers oc ficlet #donald malarkey x oc #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #destiny carries a wrench ficlet #band of brothers fanfiction #hbo war show fanfiction

[byneddiedingo]

Victor Sjöström, Maj-Britt Nilsson, and Stig Olin in To Joy (Ingmar Bergman, 1950) Cast: Stig Olin, Maj-Britt Nilsson, Victor Sjöström, Birger Malmsten, John Ekman, Margit Carlqvist. Screenplay: Ingmar Bergman. Cinematography: Gunnar Fischer. Production design: Nils Svenwall. Film editing: Oscar Rosander. Not long ago, while watching some YouTube videos of symphony orchestra performances, I was struck by how few women players were in the ranks of the great orchestras of Berlin and Vienna, especially in comparison to the numbers of women in the equivalent orchestras of New York, Boston, and Chicago. Even when the soloist was an Anne-Sophie Mutter or a Julia Fischer, the ranks of players behind her were almost exclusively male. It didn't take much Googling to learn that the fact hasn't escaped the notice of women musicians, especially in Europe. So I wasn't surprised when the crusty old conductor played by Victor Sjöström in Ingmar Bergman's To Joy introduced Marta Olsson (Maj-Britt Nilsson), a new member of his orchestra, by commenting that her talent was "against nature." Eventually, Marta gives up her profession to raise the children she and fellow musician Stig Eriksson (Stig Olin) produce, while (mostly) patiently suffering his ego and infidelity. He's the one who, though tormented by the fear that he's mediocre, tries to move from the orchestra into a concert soloist, suffering a crushing setback when his attempt at performing the Mendelssohn violin concerto ends in disaster. The film is a flashback to their marriage after she dies, and though he's softened a bit by her kindness and good nature, he retains his egotism and self-doubt in equal measures. It's easy enough to see Stig Eriksson as the director's self-portrait, coming as it does after the failure of his second marriage. "Joy" is not an emotion that we readily associate with Bergman, though in this film it's an allusion to the final choral movement of Beethoven's ninth symphony, an excerpt from which is performed at the end of the film. The Freude of Beethoven (and of the Schiller poem that he set to music) is an emanation of the divine, emerging after struggle and pain, and Bergman tries to embody it in Stig and Marta's young son, sitting alone in the concert hall as the orchestra rehearses the symphony. It's a conclusion that teeters on the edge of sentimentality, as Bergman's invocations of the innocence of childhood often do. Still, though a lot of things in the film don't work, such as a resort to a voiceover commentary on the marriage of Stig and Marta by the conductor Sönderby that feels jarringly out of place when it occurs, To Joy is a long early step toward the mastery of Bergman's later films.

#To Joy #Ingmar Bergman #Victor Sjöström #Maj-Britt Nilsson #Stig Olin

[pensbridgrton]

you know i love you; did i ever tell you? by @obiwan-katnobi​

Stark family shenanigans, booze-fueled matchmaking, and not-so-clever distractions at the latest bougie Westerosi shindig, told entirely in text messages.

#theonsa #gendrya #game of thrones #gotedit #arya stark #theon greyjoy #sansa stark #robb stark #gendry waters #mine #my edits #LISTEN #this is real bad but i tried??? #i tried something different thats probably why it's bad sorry #and yes arya gets her own little mini picspam #the maj tag

[zukos-scribe]

I don’t want to lose you

this is another re-edit from my old blog. enjoy!

“Welcome to New York.”

You and your husband grabbed your cases and grasped hands before heading out into the bustling American city of New York.

“Stay close. I don’t want to lose you,” Newt whispered to you. You nodded and pressed yourself closer into his side. There were so many people in this city that it wouldn’t be hard to become separated.

You two wandered through the streets, watching everyone around you. Everyone was rushing around, focusing on their own issues and running their errands.

“You there sir. Are you a seeker of the truth?” A lady asked Newt.

“I’m more of a chaser really,” he replied. You suppressed a smile as the woman nodded. Though you weren't a wizard, you still understood things about the wizarding world. Mostly whatever Newt had told you about his Hogwarts adventures.

Suddenly you noticed a black fuzzy animal escape into the bank.

'The Niffler!' you thought Newt noticed it as well, and promptly took off, yourself following closely behind with your hands joined.

All of the sudden someone smashed into you and you lost Newt’s hand. You tripped and ended up tumbling onto the floor.

“Miss! I am so sorry! Are you alright?” The man asked you, pulling you up from the ground. He looked at you with an embarrassed face.

“I-I’m alright,” you said, dusting yourself off.

“Again, I’m so sorry. I’m running late for my loan interview. I’m hoping to open a bakery,” He smiled at him. “Oh sorry I’m babbling. Do you need any help?”

“No I’m alright. Thank you though. I’m just going to go find my husband now. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, I apologize again!” he called to you as you walked off to find Newt. You turned to wave to him once more in good nature before turning your attention to your surroundings.

You wandered around the bank for a while, searching for him. You began to grow more panicked as time continued to pass. You didn't have anything on you and had no idea what to do if you didn't have Newt.

You decided to exit the bank in hopes that he would be looking for you outside.

After a minute of looking around, you saw your husband walking in an ally way with a strained and panicked look on his face.

You breathed a sigh of relief and opened your mouth to call him over to you. All of the sudden however, a lady in a gray coat grabbed his arm and apperated away.

“No!” you shouted, running to the spot you last saw him. ‘He can’t apparate away, the could be anywhere!’

You couldn’t follow him either, you didn’t have magic. A sob ripped out of your throat as you ran down the street. What would you do? You had no money, food, supplies or anything! Tears began falling down your face as you realized you had no idea what to do in this big city.

~~~~

“Teenie. You brought men home.”

“That’s Mr. Scamander. He’s lost something and I’m going to help him find it.”    

Newt stared out the window. All he could think about was Y/N. He’d lost her at the bank when he went off to chase the niffler. How could he have let go of her hand like that? What if she was hurt? What if she was starving?

What if MUCUSA found her? What if the next time that he saw her she didn’t remember him anymore?

He dropped his head in his hands. Tears fell down his face. This was all his fault.

~~~~

You wrapped yourself tighter in your coat, trying to protect yourself from the wind. The night had fallen and you were still wandering the streets, looking for Newt. You hadn’t eaten, your legs ached, and your feet had countless blisters on them. You were exhausted.

There was a park a few blocks away from where you were walking so you decided to find a bench.

As you continued down the street you noticed a woman coming your way, a woman wearing a grey coat. The same grey coat as the woman that left with your husband. And she was carrying Newts magical case!

You started to go towards her before all the street lights on the started to burst. There was an evil presence surrounding the area. It was an evil magic presence. Even if you didn't know that this had something to do with the wizarding world, you would be evil to tell that something was wrong.

The woman carrying Newts case ran off again. You tried to follow but you lost her once more.

You sighed and turned around to walk back to the park. You would have to wait until the next morning.

~~~~

“I sentence you to death.”

“No! Please no!”

Tears picked at Newts eyes.

“Take care of my creature! Please, none of them are dangerous!”

Sorrow filled his heart, what would happen to his creatures and Y/N? Where was Y/N? Would he be able to see her again? What would happen to her if he never found her again?

Suddenly he was set free from his shackles with help from Pickett. He grabbed Tina and ran off, running into Jacob and Queenie as they were coming to find them. Queenie was able to smuggle all of them outside and back to the apartment as the rest were taking care of the creatures in the case.

“Is this your wife?” Queenie asked, holding up a picture of you. The group was safely back at the apartment and now in the case taking care of the creatures and trying to figure out what to do next. Newt smiled sadly and nodded.

“She’s a no-maj?” Tina asked.

“Yes. Like I said, England doesn’t have rules against muggles. I was free to marry her when I wished. We’ve been married for over two years now, and traveling together even longer. She may not have magic but she knows how to work with the creatures and supports me in my work.”

He took the picture from Queenie and stroked the picture, tracing the lines of his wife’s face.

Where could she be?

“Come on you guys. We need to find the demiguise.”

~~~~

As you walked back to the park feeling upset you passed several large, expensive looking stores. You heard some abrupt shouting and crashing coming from one of the big department stores. Then once again everything was silent and you decided to continue on. You didn't want any more trouble than you already had.

You made it halfway down the street before you heard a familiar voice.

“Y/N!” a voice called from behind you. You spun around and saw the face of your frazzled husband.

You cried with relief before sprinting into his arms and squeezing him with all your might, burying your head in his chest.

“Oh my god, you’re here. You’re really here, you’re okay,” he cried into your shoulder. He held you tightly, thinking that you may slip away again.

“I’m okay Newt I promise.”

He gripped you even tighter.

“I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. I should have held onto you tighter,” he sobbed.

You pulled away a little and shook your head, tears falling down your own cheeks.

“It’s not your fault, I promise you. Don’t worry about it, we have each other now,” you told him softly, wiping away the falling tears.

He gave you a short kiss before pulling you over to meet the people that he was with.

“Y/N this is Tina, Queenie, and Jacob. They’ve been helping me look for you and recapture all of the creatures that got out of my case.”

“Oh it’s so great to meet you!” Queenie cried. “Newt’s been panicking looking for you!”

You gave a small laugh and introduced yourself to everyone.

“You’re the woman I bumped into in the bank!” Jacob said. He looked between you and Newt. “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault that you got separated in the first place.”

You shook your head.

“Let’s not worry about it anymore. I’m just glad to be back,” you said as Newt pulled you closer.

“Alright, let’s get you in the case,” Newt said, directing you to all the creatures.

You all climbed back in the case and finished taking care of all the creatures as the others prepared for whatever they needed to do.

“Darling, there’s one more thing that needs to be done, but I need you to stay here. I don’t want MUCUSA. If they do, you’ll be taken away from me again, and I don’t want that to happen. Please stay here.”

You looked into his begging eyes and nodded. Relief filled his eyes and he wrapped you in another embrace.

“I love you Newt.”

“I love you too. I promise that you’ll never be taken away from me. Ever again.”

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #fantastic beasts and where to find them

[only-johnny-deppp]

TBT: The EPIC moment Johnny Depp, as Gellert Grindelwald, surprised the 2018 San Diego Comic Con. 

On that day, July 21, 2018, right in the middle of the “Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald” panel  at the San Diego Comic Con, in California, everyone was caught by surprise when suddenly all the lights were turned off and Grindelwald’s logo appeared on the big screen along followed by a Grindelwald speech: 

“Friends... You’ve come today because you crave something new… Something different… The moment has come, open your minds, and I will share with you… the future”

While the big screens shows an alternate never released scene from the amphitheater with Grindelwald’s followers with their wands lightened, Johnny appears from the dark fully dressed as Grindelwald.

  And when I say “fully” is really in his entirely: Hair, make-up, contact lenses, wand, tone of voice, accent, personality, and even his tattoos were covered by make-up.

But on that day, “that” was not Johnny, “That” was Grindelwald.

"If I take a character, I’ll know it thoroughly. Then I am no longer myself in the film." ~ Johnny Depp (July 5, 2018)

And without breaking the character (not even when a fan shouts “I LOVE YOU JOHNNY), he starts and follow his speech:

“My brothers, my sisters, my friends… The great gift of your applause, is not for me, but for yourselves… Therefore, applaud yourselves. It is been said, that I hate Le Non-Magique, The Muggles, The No-Maj, The Can’t-Spells... I do not hate them. I do not. I say: The Muggles are not the lesser, but other. Not worthless, but of other value. The magic blooms only in rare souls… It is granted to those who live. Oh, what a world we would make for all of humanity. All the humanity, we who live for freedom, for truth... The moment has come to rise up and take our rightful place in the world.”

 And just like he appeared he left the stage after raising his wand and sounds of explosion be heard, breaking the silence in the arena. Johnny did not gave interviews and did not attended the panel. Instead, he returned to his musical life and traveled to Phoenix, Arizona to attend and play at Jeff Beck’s concert. Friends first.

 > Curiosities:  Behind Johnny’s surprise and the differences between the Live Speech and Movie Speech.

*Although the cast of Fantastic Beasts where there for the panel which was scheduled days in advance, they only new about Johnny’s appearance the day before.

* Apart those involved on the backstage, no one knew that Johnny was there, those who knew and saw him for a couple of minutes smoking outside the building, did not leak the secret and no one saw when he entered and left the Comic-Con. 

* The same thing happened during “ Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them”. The actors didn’t know that Johnny was going to be Grindelwald, and only found out on the day he was going to shot the scene.

* Johnny’s appearance happened few minutes before the “Aquaman” panel with the cast. Some people said that Ms. Heard didn’t like his presence and that saw when she was talking to some security guards. They did not talk to each other, but she was caught by surprise.

* The pre-recorded speech during the intro, is both an edited cut version from the original speech in the movie and an alternate version taken from the movie rehearsals. While in the intro Grindelwald says “The moment has come, open your minds, and I will share with you the future” in the movie is “The moment has come to share my vision of the future”. For those who didn’t know, Johnny tried dozens of different ways to make some scenes, collaborating with new lines, extended speech, different way of moves, alternate takes (such interacting with his followers on the amphitheater, and other scenes never released) and scenes recorded in dozens of different tones of voice. For example the scene which Grindelwald speaks to Leta Lestrange at  the amphitheater has at least 4 different versions. Although they were recorded and even aired during an exclusive exhibition of the unfinished version for a selected public to check if the audience was approving the plot, most of them were replaced and/or taken from the final version, but still some can be seen and heard during the official trailers. * Johnny’s live speech is around 80% similar to the movie. Some of the lines he didn’t speak were added in the intro, while some were not spoken maybe to avoid a bigger spoiler, once we were going to watch and listen in its entire version in the movie, 4 months later.

JUSTICE FOR GRINDELWALD JUSTICE FOR JOHNNY DEPP

#Johnny Depp #Gellert Grindewald #San Diego Comic Con #Special Surprise #July 2018 #Epic Moments #Justice for Grindelwald #Justice For Johnny Depp #Johnny Depp is My Grindelwald

[themysteriousphoenix]

Letters From the Past

Newtina Week Day 3: A journey through time. (Newt and Tina go to the past/future or someone from the past/future visits them.)

Now at just over 100 years of age, Newt and Tina receive a surprise. A long-forgotten letter from Queenie, years after her death at the hands of Grindelwald.

TW: Character death mentioned.

Newt climbed the ladder of his old, beaten case, a stack of yellowed correspondence in hand. He was nearly half-way through cleaning it out after decades of research. It was time to move on, pass the case onto the next generation. His son and grandson would be taking over his work soon, though Newt felt a bittersweet clench in his chest whenever he thought about it. He was proud that they had created something wonderful between them. He worked for over eighty years to make the world better for creatures, to educate other wizards about them. He had seen protective orders, ordinances, and treaties written in dozens of countries around the world to improve their living conditions. He was proud of the work he had done. His son had continued at his side and branched off into herbology and potion testing, trying to find alternative ingredients for common potions that would not harm creatures.

Now his grandson, Rolf, had expressed interest in taking on the family business. He was currently traveling, studying creatures, plants, and whatever he fancied at the moment. He called himself a Naturalist because he was fascinated by all things in nature and yearned for the discovery of new things. Newt saw a lot of himself in his grandson. It was when he wrote to let them know that he had met a wonderful girl who he would be bringing home to meet them soon, and that he thought she might be the one, that Tina said it might be time to pass on the case.

Newt knew she was right. There were few things that Tina wasn’t right about, come to think of it, but it was still difficult to think of his case being in the care of another, even if that person was Rolf.

Newt pushed himself up and over the lip of his case, recalling how he used to run up the rickety ladder and out with ease. How fit and young he had been at thirty, though he never realized it. Time had been kind to Newt and Tina, but their bodies were not what they used to be. Years of hard work, injuries, and physical labor had seen to that.

“What do you have there?” Tina asked as she stirred the soup on the stove with her wand, her keen eyes trailing down the page of an old, stained cookbook. She glanced up at her husband as he emerged into their kitchen and placed the pile of parchment onto the table. The light from the window over their large farmhouse sink made her still-dark hair shine. Gray streaked through the soft locks that were currently pulled back away from her face into a plait that hung loosely over her shoulder. Newt still found that there were moments when she would still take his breath away, even seventy-seven years after their first meeting. He was a lucky man.

“Letters mostly,” he replied, his fingers flipping through a few of the pages on the top of the file. “I haven’t seen them in years, most are from the thirties, I’d say.” He sat down with a small grunt and leaned on his elbow, sorting the papers into piles. Tina finished adding ingredients to their dinner and joined him at the table, picking up the top piece of parchment off the pile.

“Oh, Thes,” she said with a sad smile, tracing his name with her fingertip. Newt looked up and nodded, his eyes flashing back to the paper before him.

“I know. I think most of the people these letters are from are dead now. It’s…”

“It’s hard to get old,” Tina said, finishing his thought. Newt nodded, his eyes not leaving the parchment in front of him as he read. They had both lost so much over the years, so many people that they loved and cared about, but they had lived a good life together and he wouldn’t give up the family they had created to change anything in their past. It was still heartbreaking to think that neither of their siblings had lived to see their niece or nephew grow up, even though it had been more than half a century since they had been put to rest.

“Who is that one from?” Tina asked, pulling a faded, lavender envelope from the stack.

“Mr. Worme.” Newt flipped the letter over and read the few lines on the back before placing it gently onto a pile. “It was congratulating me on my seventh edition and updating me on its progress and publication.”

“Oh, goodness. That must have been in thirty-six? Thirty-seven??”

“Thirty-five,” Newt corrected her with a smile, pulling another envelope from the pile. “They all sort of run together. I can’t keep track of the dates myself.”

Tina flipped the unopened envelope in her hand over and she stilled, her eyes growing wide. Newt noticed her change of mood immediately.

“What is it, Love?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he pulled the envelope from her fingers gently. He flipped it over to see the writing on the front. “Is that…?”

“Queenie.” Tina’s eyes were wide and tears were brimming in their chocolatey depths. Her sister had been a tough topic for years. Tina, though she knew that Queenie had made her own tough choices all those years ago, still carried guilt with her. She still blamed herself for driving her little sister into Grindelwald’s circle, and later, for not being able to save her when she tried to run from it. Her death stung, far more than watching Theseus fall in the final battle, far more than the peaceful death that Jacob had seen at the age of 90 a few years back. Hers had been the hardest by far.

Taking the envelope back, she stared at it for a few more moments. “It’s not opened...and it’s addressed to you.”

Newt shook his head, confused. “I don’t remember that one at all. I would have remembered if she had tried to contact me, it would have stood out. It happened so infrequently that…” Newt stood and walked around the table, lowering himself into the chair at his wife’s side. “Do you want to open it?”

“I- I think so,” Tina mumbled, her gathered tears breaking through her lashes and cascading down her cheek, “I...no. You open it. It’s addressed to you.”

“It’s for you, though. You know it is.” Newt’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder, his fingers passing lightly over her upper back in a practiced motion. “Do you want me to read it to you?”

With a sniff and a nod, Tina passed the letter over to Newt who opened the wax seal carefully and pulled out a letter on matching stationary. He watched as Tina pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes before leaning on the table and watching out the window, listening. Unfolding the letter, Newt looked at the familiar handwriting with a pang of sadness and something akin to a long-held frustration and anger. He cleared his throat and began to read.

February 12, 1934

My dear Newt,

I know that you will be surprised to hear from me. You may not want to, and if that is the case, then I understand. I have done things that make me ashamed beyond explanation, and for that, I am truly sorry. I left Teenie, and I can never go back to the way things were. I did that, and I have regretted it ever since. I thought that what I was doing was right, but over time I have realized that Gellert was not truthful or forthcoming with his goals. Thank you for being the family for her that I could not be. Thank you for loving her the way that she deserves to be loved.

I heard the news of your first child in the Daily Prophet. Congratulations. I am so happy and proud of you both. You will be wonderful parents, she is a lucky little girl. I wish that I was able to meet her, but I fear that it might never happen now. Please give her a kiss from her Auntie Queenie with love.

I am leaving Nurmengard tomorrow. I know that there are several Aurors on watch and correspondence is being checked. I do not know if Tina’s correspondence is among those, they keep any information about Tina a secret from me, even now. I didn’t want to take a chance and have this letter be intercepted. I figured sending a letter by no-maj post to you would be safest.

Please, tell her how sorry I am. I made these choices and I take full blame for my actions. She has been my everything since we were children, and she will continue to be my everything until the day I die. Tell her that I love her. She deserves nothing but the best in life, and that is all I hope for her. Tell her that I would be by her side right now if I could do this all over again. I’m not sure if I will make it to England or not, that is where I am trying to go. If I do, I will be in contact again. If I do not, please forgive me for what I have done. Not only here with Gellert, but to you both. Especially to Tina. I know my sister, and I know that she has probably tried to take responsibility for what happened in Paris. Don’t let her live her life thinking that she was responsible, Newt. She wasn’t. It was my choice that led me here.

I hope that I can tell her these things in person soon. Please be watching for an owl from me in the coming weeks. If the worst should happen, I am sure that you will hear through the Ministry. I am running, not because I am scared, but because I know that Gellert Grindelwald is a manipulator and a liar. I cannot stand with him any longer. I know that I will face prison time when I arrive in England, but I will do what I can to help the resistance working against him.

I am sending love to you both, and I hope that you will allow me to see you soon. I will be in touch. Please also share these sentiments with Jacob as I have no address for him. I don’t know where he is and I will probably never see him again, but I only wish him happiness. I hope he can forgive me someday.

All my love and devotion, always,

Queenie

A pause followed Newt’s reading, interrupted only by Tina’s choked sobs as she clutched her handkerchief to her face. Newt stared at the letter in his hand, the other resting along Tina’s back and trying to soothe her with a light touch. He realized that he was also crying as tears began to blur the words before him. Clearing his throat, he removed his glasses and used his shirt sleeve to dab at his eyes.

Tina sighed and looked up at Newt, her eyes were red and tears still streamed down her face. He set the letter on the table and thumbed the tears away from her slightly-wrinkled face, cupping her cheek lightly as he had done thousands of times before. She leaned into the touch and then her face buried itself into his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his waist. She seemed to be calming now as she took deep, steadying breaths.

“She never made it,” Tina mumbled into Newt’s shoulder, her despair heavy in her voice. Newt closed his eyes and held her close.

“I know.” He shook his head as he laid the letter down and wrapped his other arm around Tina, surrounding her. She continued to cry into his shoulder, her sobs and hiccuping breaths growing farther apart as she calmed. She took deep breaths and Newt played with the wisps of hair that had escaped their confines at the nape of her neck. “I can’t believe you found that letter. I never knew it existed.”

“I know,” she responded, pulling away from him and wiping the remnants of her tears away with her handkerchief. “She sent it by muggle post, it probably got mixed in with the fan mail. The purple envelope saw to that.” They both laughed, softly and awkwardly in the solemn moment, as they thought back on the piles of fan mail that had arrived over the years from witches of all ages and walks of life. Thankfully, it had tapered off after a couple of decades and they were left in peace with only scholarly letters of interest scattered here and there.

“Thank Merlin I never get rid of anything…” Tina snorted and shook her head, dabbing at her eyes once more. She inhaled deeply through her nose and then released her breath through her mouth, her face downcast as she twisted the cloth in her hands absently. “How are you, Love?” Newt asked softly.

“I’m… okay,” Tina whispered without looking up. “Surprised, sad, angry… happy to hear from her… I don’t really know how I feel right now.”

Newt nodded, picking the letter up and looking at it again. “That’s completely understandable. It’s a lot to take in after so long. I wish we had seen it sooner.”

“I wish Jacob had seen it,” Tina continued, and Newt hummed in agreement.

“He forgave her long ago.”

“I know he did. He was so… good.” Tina said with a wistful smile, her eyes closing at the wash of memories. “He deserved closure too, though.”

“Do you feel that this was closure, then?” Newt asked carefully.

“I- kind of? Maybe a little.” Tina said, her voice hoarse after her burst of emotions. “I’m glad to have it. I’m… I’m glad that she ran for the right reasons. I wish, so much, that she would have made it to England. She could have been…”

“She would have been a part of our family again, even if she would have been in prison. She always was in a way.” Newt watched as Tina’s dark eyes rose to meet his, they were bloodshot, and tears still threatened to fall, but they were still as bright as they had ever been. “I always considered her family, even if she was never here.”

“I know you did. You never had to, but you did.” Tina leaned forward and hugged Newt properly. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, and he felt her arms tighten around his back.

“I love you, too.”

Tina pulled away and used the heel of her hand to brush an escaped tear from her cheek. She lightly, gently grabbed the letter and envelope from the table. Folding the letter carefully, she slid it back into its home and tucked it carefully into the pocket of her long, woolen sweater.

“I’m going for a walk,” Tina said, standing slowly from her chair. “I need a bit of fresh air, I think.”

“Right,” Newt agreed. “Do you want company?” He knew the answer already, but he wanted to make sure she was okay after the shock she had just received.

“I don’t think so,” she said, a small forced smile crossing her face, “I think I need a bit of time alone to think.” Newt nodded and Tina bent down to place a light kiss on the top of his head. “Keep an eye on dinner for me?” she asked as she made her way to the door.

“Of course, I’ll take care of things here.” With a nod, Tina slipped through the door and began to walk up the path. Through the window, Newt watched as she paused to pull the lavender letter from her sweater pocket and pull the letter out. She continued walking toward the pasture, her eyes trained on her sister’s final words. He smiled at the sight, thankful that Queenie had been able to pay her sister one final visit with her words from the past, even if it had come years later than intended.

Thanks for the visit, Queenie, he thought, hoping that wherever she was now, that she was finally at peace.

#newtina #fbawtft #newt scamander #newtina fanfiction #tina goldstein #newt x tina #fbatcog #post-cog #fantastic fanfiction #ashley writes #newtina ff #newtinaweek2020

[antihero-writings]

Stolen Sunlight

Fandom: Tangled | Tangled the Series | Rapunzel’s Tangled Adventure

Summary: Arianna never thought she'd find herself afraid of a fourteen-year-old boy, but the events of Secret of the Sundrop won't seem to leave her.

She needs to talk to Varian in prison. Not for his sake...but for her own.

Character focus: Arianna and Varian

Notes: This is a fic I started writing many many years ago, during the hiatus between seasons 1 and 2. I intended to post it way back then, as a long one-shot. I continued to occasionally work on it over the years, however, it's proven one of the hardest fics I've ever written to edit, (mostly due to the amount of internal monologue).

I finally decided that probably the only way to get it actually edited and posted is to break it up into multiple chapters, despite the fact that it's essentially only one scene, and I feel like that messes with the format. Hopefully it'll help me edit, and end up making it easier for people to read too XD I might post the full version of this, unbroken up, too after I finish it. But I finally got fed up with my editing process and decided this was the only way.

I'm aware that plenty of other people have written Varian and Arianna fics over the years, but at the time I started this there weren't that many yet, and I worked so hard on this, I still wanted to post it, even if others have done things like it. Plus, I'm not sure how many people have written it this heavily from Arianna's perspective.

I hope you all enjoy it, either way! Please don't hesitate to leave a comment to let me know, if so!!

Chapter 1: Fractured Memory

Sun splinters through the castle windows, designing reflections on the newly polished floor.

When she walks into the library, her mouth drops open; The entire room gleams. That Corona sunlight bounces between the tiles, tables, and shelves like a little boy full of energy, laughing as he leaps around the room. 

It may be a royal library, but there’s usually still a layer of dust draped over everything, sealing up the gaps, and clogging up the stories. The servants try their best, but it’s hard to get into all the crevices between the shelves, the cracks between the pages. 

The tiles glitter, the shelves look new, the books don’t cough up dust when she lifts them, even a few of their bindings are mended. 

She stays a while to admire it before heading back for her room, and as she does, Arianna smiles, her gait almost dreamy—so like her daughter’s. 

Who would take such care to polish her library? She appreciates the gesture more than words can express, but she would like to say ‘thank you’ at least. 

A curious sight down the hall interrupts her wondering; a laundry cart, moving on its own. 

A very full laundry cart, that is…Cassandra doesn’t usually fill them so much.

“May I…help you?” she walks up to the cart, tilting her head, strands of hair falling to the side. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I got this!” the laundry cart replies. 

The ventriloquist reveals himself: a boy steps out from behind it. She guesses he must be one of Rapunzel’s friends, since she doesn’t remember seeing him here before, and he doesn’t exactly look like a royal servant, (despite the fact that he’s performing one of their jobs).

He pushes back his hair—black, with a streak of turquoise at the front—and smooths out his apron. Upon seeing her, his eyes widen with shock.

 “Oh!” he stumbles, attempting to bow too low, too quickly, “Your majesty! I-I am so sorry! I didn’t realize—!”

She laughs, holding out a hand to steady him. 

“Don’t worry. Please. I’m Arianna.”

“Oh—O-Okay. That…seems to run in the family,” he mutters beneath his breath. “I’m Varian.” He leans confidently against the laundry cart…which starts moving, so he pulls it back with all his strength before it gets out of hand.  

“Oh! Varian! Rapunzel told me about you!”

He freezes, his eyes trailing back to her, like people talking about him is usually a bad thing. “She…She has?”

“Of course!” she steps closer. “You’re the alchemist, right?”

He pauses, blinks, then his face breaks into the biggest grin. He clears his throat, rubbing fake dirt off his gloves, trying to hide his joy, as he looks back up at her. “Ten points to the lady in the crown.”

She smiles.

“Are you here for the completion today?” 

He nods. “I think I’ve got a pre-tty good chance of snagging that first prize if I do say so myself,” he pulls on his apron straps, then pauses, realizing how arrogant that sounds. “Not to uh…toot my own horn or anything. But it doesn’t seem like there’s anything like my invention in the running, so I think once Master Doctor St. Croix sees it he’ll be impressed! At least I hope so.”

“Well, if your invention is anything like the ones Rapunzel has told me about you’ll have no trouble snagging that blue ribbon.”

“Oh stop,” he flicks his wrist to wave her off, but is beaming from ear to ear. 

She notes that she may be encouraging him a little too much. The experiments Rapunzel has told her about aren’t exactly all blue-ribbon worthy. Or, perhaps they would be…if they all worked properly. At the same time, she isn’t sure labelling him as dangerous, and reckless is really fair. She and Willow had tried out their share of inventions, which often failed in a grand array of explosions. If they had worked properly, growing up wouldn’t have been as colorful. At least he was trying his best to help people with his inventions. Without the explosive failures, there was no room for fiery success either. 

 “Wait, shouldn’t you be there with the other contestants now?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says nonchalantly. “But I figured since I’m going second-to-last I’ve got a decent amount of time before I have to present. Cassi—Cassandra has agreed to be my assistant, so I’m helping her out with her lady-in-waiting duties first.”

“Don’t let her make you do all her work.” She says in a motherly way. Then gasps, “The library!” 

 He winces. “Did I do something wrong? I-I can fix it, don’t worry!”

“No, no!” she puts her hands on his shoulders, “So you were the one who cleaned it?”

“Yeees…?”

She pulls him into a hug. “Thank you so much.”—his eyes widen with shock—“I’ve never seen the place look so beautiful.” She releases him. 

“Oh!” he rubs the back of his neck and the smile turns sheepish.

“That must have taken you hours!”

“It was no big deal. Nothing a little home-alchemy can’t fix.” He says like a salesman.

“How did you do it?”

“Just a compound of my own invention,” he digs in his pocket and holds up a little, blue orb between his thumb and forefinger. “Most people don’t understand the more practical uses for alchemy.” he marches forward, hands on his hips, in a hyperbolic show of pride, making his voice sound deep, “that’s why I make it a mission to show the world the value of alchemy! To boldly go where no man has gone before!” he laughs, his pose collapsing, “Or something like that.”

No wonder Rapunzel had such nice things to say about him. There weren’t a lot of people out there who were so…genuine. People who cleaned libraries because they needed cleaning, who created solutions for problems simply because they needed fixing. 

 “Maybe one day you can teach me.”

“Really?” He drops the ball and it explodes into a sudsy mess on the already polished floor. “I mean, not that I think a queen should be doing housework! But…really?”

“Please,” she waves him off. “I wasn’t always a queen, you know. If Willow and I had had tricks like this maybe our house would have always looked like a pigsty. Sometimes I think we started going off on adventures just to get away from the smell.” She leans in closer, whispering behind her hand, “One time, I set the kitchen on fire trying to bake a birthday cake for Frederic.”

He laughs, then pauses like he isn’t sure he’s allowed to. “I guess not every queen is scared to get her hands dirty, huh?”

“Uh huh,” she puts her hands on her hips, “You should have seen the look on his face.”

“Happy birthday huh?”

“Now make sure to always send someone to Monty’s for his cake…spare us all.”

He fails to keep himself from laughing again, then pauses.

“Well… I really should be getting back to these chores. This laundry isn’t going to clean itself, amIright?” he bobs his head and walks backwards to the cart. “But it was really nice talking to you, your Maj—I mean,” he points, “Arianna.”

“Let me help you! This cart is too heavy to carry on your own.” she rushes over to the other end—he’s so thin, she’s afraid he’ll snap in two if he does all the chores by himself.

“No no!” he comes dangerously close to slapping her hands away. “I mean,” he smiles nervously, pulling his fingers close to his chest, realizing his outburst to the Queen. “I wouldn’t want you to get your…er…royal hands dirty…Right?”

She smiles. 

Well, if a little stubborn. 

“As long as you’re sure.” 

*

*

* The scene shifts, smearing like a painting left out in the rain. The reflection becomes more sinister; a glowing tower of amber, and encased within, a man reaching to the sky as if trying to catch rays of sunlight; as if light alone can break himself out of his prison of stained glass. The curtain to this godforsaken show is crumpled at the bottom. A giant machine stands in the middle of the room, made of metal, lightning, and cold, haunting music. 

The room smells like sulfur, and rust, and a lot of other chemicals she can’t quite place. Things from the earth which don’t smell natural at all. 

The same boy stands before her. The same, and yet…not the same at all. Along with the light from the windows, so too has disappeared the light from his eyes. The blue is something akin to moonlight; less the gleam of day, the reflection of the sunrise, full of hope, instead, more an eclipsed glow, shrouded by darkness. 

She feels that rusted metal, the cold in his eyes, wrap like icy hands around her ankles. 

She looks quizzically from her cuffed ankles to him. Doesn’t the warden usually cuff the prisoner’s hands? 

He seems to understand her confusion, because he answers her unasked question;

 “Please,” he scoffs. His eyes meet hers, and he smirks. The words, the smile, no longer contain compassion, they are manufactured with bite and scorn; “I wouldn’t want you to get your royal hands dirty.” 

He tugs hard on the chain, showing that it’s connected to the lab’s floor, as if saying to a toddler You’re stuck here, understand? He walks back over to his desk—littered with bottles, liquid bubbling and seething like his emotions, an array of colors that tell nothing of what they contain. 

If the color green is sleep, then what color is death? 

She looks up at the golden tower in the center of the room. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t look away. 

—Look away…like Frederic did, when people like Varian were crying out for his help against the rocks. Look away, like Rapunzel had to when the storm was coming, and Quirin was being imprisoned. Look away, like they all did after the storm passed.

 She still couldn’t believe her husband would, could do something like that. That was the reason she was here, the reason the boy was hurt, the reason…the mistake, the poorly made choice. 

No, she couldn’t think that way. Besides, she knew he had his reasons, that he wanted to make sure people didn’t panic, and he wanted to keep Rapunzel safe. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t fully understand the situation. 

And she would never blame Rapunzel. Rapunzel had had to make one of the most difficult choices of her life that day, had had to learn too much about being queen, too soon: that it was about choices, and sometimes those choices would be leaving behind the one, for the sake of the many. 

And the amber was the other reason, and that wasn’t Frederic’s fault...The amber Varian himself had mistakenly made.

Still, it would have been so easy. So easy to come back to him once the storm had ended. So easy...

So where did the fault lie, really?—

Was it amber? Was amber the color of death? Or just another kind of sleep? 

The boy’s eyes shift, glaring at her with nothing more than bitterness. 

Or was it blue? The color of the moon, a well-timed strike of lightning, an icy landscape. Was blue the color of death?

 “What are you going to do?” 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I’ll reveal my whole plan to you. Let me go into the tragic backstory of Varian,” he waves his hand grandly, “The poor boy, who lost his father to an experiment, a few rocks, a storm, and a princess’ broken promise.” He leans on the desk, resting his cheek in his hand in some mock-loving fashion, his eyes aimed on her like gunfire. “It’s simple; Rapunzel broke her promise.” He stands back up to his full height—which, admittedly, isn’t very high, but it’s more impressive from her place on the ground. “I tried asking nicely for her help, and I was denied.” He jabs a finger on the table to emphasize his point; the first sign of violence. “Now I’m going to ask” he smirks, tilting his head to the side, his eyes half-lidded in the dark, “not so nicely.” 

He pauses a moment, glancing at the chemicals on his desk. 

“I once said I’d teach you the ways of practical alchemy.” He reaches forward and takes up a flask. “Well, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I will show you something.”

He walked over to her, holding the flask full of something green and frothy that smells like dog breath.

Was it green? Was death’s color the same as sleep? The colors of leaves and grass and everything everyone thinks is a sign of life. ...It would be a cruel joke.

“This is a little solution I like to call…Varium.” There’s something hurt in his eyes when he says the word. “You see, when it reacts with the rocks,” he runs his fingers along the black spire jutting through the wall between them—one could be fooled into thinking in an intrigued way, but there was something harsh in his touch, resentful in his eyes, “it has this tendency to—” he held it over the stones, the liquid trickling slowly downwards in the flask, teasing her breath to catch itself and fall. He turns the bottle upright, and bites his lip, closing his eyes, willing himself not to turn around and look at what this has done before. 

What he’s done. 

“Well, you get the idea,” he mutters, returning the flask to his desk.

She doesn’t have to ask, and he doesn’t have to finish. 

“You think if you threaten me Rapunzel will work with you?” there’s a bite to her words. 

 “Ten points to the lady in the crown.” 

She pauses as he returns to work, her eyes trailing along the chain, the floor, jumping onto the windowsill—the rocks interrupting her gaze at every bend and break of the room—searching for any way out, any chance at rescue, anything her husband and daughter could use against him.

Was death black? The color everyone thinks it is. The black of these rocks, the low blue glowing beneath them, destroying his home, destroying their hearts, their chances at friendship and…It surely seemed like it. 

“She won’t, you know.”

He raises an eyebrow as if to say oh, you think?

“Rapunzel.” She tries to urge her confidence, like a stubborn pet, to come out, but it shies away by the second. “She won’t help you.”

He smiles. “You make your hypotheses, I’ll make mine.”

“And what are yours?” her own eyes are half lidded. 

He thinks over his words. “She can’t…help but help. She always had this sick compassion about her.” After a moment he adds softly, “…but only for her kingdom.”

Anger, injustice, bubble within her chest. 

 “You don’t have to be like this, you know.”

“And she didn’t have to break her promise,” he tilts his head, “ya know.”

She grits her teeth, clenches her fist. “I met you once. What happened to that boy who—”

He laughs a little, cutting her off. “Yeah, well, he learned a couple things about the real world.”

For a moment, just one brief moment, there is something there. Something in his eyes, a memory, a reaction, like the chemicals. Something real, something lost, something hurt, something…something not this. Incased within a prison of blue—

And then that moment ended.

#varian #arianna #queen arianna #tangled the series #tangled #varian the alchemist #rapunzels tangled adventure #tangled fandom #tts #rta #tangled the series fanfiction #tangled the series fandom #rapunzels tangled adventure fandom #tts fandom #rta fandom #tts varian #varian tts #rta varian #varian rta #tangled varian #varian tangled #tangled arianna #arianna tangled #tts arianna #arianna tts #rta arianna #arianna rta #tangled fanfiction #varian fanfic #varian fanfiction

[a-mythical-lady]

Books and me.

14 years ago

(Age: 7)

It was bedtime and maa had just made my bed when I heard the front door open. Papa was home from work and I could hear bhai running to see papa and tell him random stuff. I bet papa listened to everything, despite being tired. After that, he came to my room, "Look what I got you" he said, and extended a book to me. I was confused as he had never brought me a book before. It was a book called Panchatantra. A story of an old rishi who gives life lessons to his five shishyas at the gurukul through stories about nature and animals. I was excited about getting my first book and begrudgingly, maa let me stay up later than usual. That night, sprawled on my bed, I was entranced and fascinated by all the different stories and scenes and talking animals. The next morning, I woke up by myself and finished the entire book by noon.

The next thing I know, I'm collecting comics and storybooks and getting addicted to them. Piling up tinkle comics, Archie's and Amar Chitra Katha was my only goal. Every train journey to my native place involved dragging papa to the railway station bookstore and getting myself a comic book for the train ride. I begged my parents to subscribe to storybooks along with the daily morning newspaper, and they relented after a lot of coaxing. Then, every Monday morning I'd wait eagerly for the newspaper boy to deliver my weekly dose of happiness with books of chacha Choudary, chandamama, and champak. Soon, this became an obsession that even my parents started noticing. Maa began hiding my copies of storybooks during the exams and giving them back only after all my exams were done. I began pestering papa to get me more and more books every day. Sometimes he would get me a double digest edition of tinkle and I'd be ecstatic and over the moon. It's amazing how something so small and silly used to make me so happy. I'd re-read the same books once I'd gone through my entire stash of new books. Out of desperation, I'd read anything I could lay my hands on. In school, we used to get all our term textbooks a month before the reopening of a new academic year and my English textbooks fell prey to this obsession of mine. I'd know all the lessons and stories by heart before the school year started. I think that was one of the reasons for the nerd label I got in school. I even started reading stories from the Bible, borrowing storybooks from another girl in my neighborhood. Little did I know that this was only the beginning.

10 years ago

(Age: 11)

One fine summer afternoon, bhai was busy watching tv in the living room and maa and papa were at work. We had free rein on the tv as it was the summer holidays and I had free rein on my books. I was lazing around in my room and started searching the entire house for something new to read. And finally, I found a book among bhai's things. It was probably a gift. It wasn't a comic book or a usual storybook. This one was an actual book. A novel. And it had no pictures. I was skeptical but boredom got the best of me and I decided to read a few pages to pass the time. It was a hardy boys book, written by Franklin W Dixon. After reading a few pages, my 11-year-old brain almost exploded with fascination. The style of writing, the mystery, the suspense of the entire book drew me in completely and I knew then, this was a turning point in my life where books are concerned. I felt almost grown-up. And so I read the 200 page novel with wide eyes and a bursting heart in 3 hours, without even getting up to pee. I went and told bhai about the new book I read. He laughed it off. I told maa and papa when they came back from work. "That's good beta", they said. I was disappointed that they didn't feel the same exhilaration that I did. Papa still got my books whenever I asked him. For the second time, I found myself collecting and piling up books. All of the hardy boys and Nancy drew collections. Once again, I was entranced, trapped yet alive like never before in a whole new world.

After that, a multitude of options lay before me. I dived headfirst into reading mystery and moved onto classics written by Charles Dickens, The Bronté sisters, Mary Shelly, and even a dash of Shakespeare. I fell in love with David Copperfield, Oliver twist, treasure island, Jane Eyre and Frankenstein.

But eventually, buying books so often became a chore and at the pace I was reading, with one book hardly lasting a day, we couldn't afford to buy as many books. So, then one day, maa and I set out on a goose chase all over the city looking for libraries where I could borrow books from. At last, we found an old government library inside an even older building that looked almost haunted. And as we bravely stepped into the barely holding up building, we only found old uncles reading newspapers and gossiping. Thankfully, there was a rack of English fiction. Just one single rack. Although mildly disappointed, I was determined to make do with that. I got myself a membership plan and my reading palette had its first taste of Indian authors. That one rack had a fair collection of young adult books, standalone contemporary novels which sated my hunger for quite some time. While other people gushed over my habit of reading books, my parents were a little concerned. But as I started writing my own speeches in school, improved in my speaking skills, I'm sure they were convinced and over time, I think they accepted this obsession of mine. Or at the very least, were forced to.

6 years ago.

(Age: 15)

My love for reading only grew and now I had a book beside me during breakfast, lunch, and dinner which my parents barely tolerated. I even started planting a book in every corner of my house for easy access, under the coffee table, by my bed, on my study table. While kids my age sneaked mobile phones under their pillows, I sneaked in books to read.

After a few years, I finally met a kindred spirit with a shared love for reading. He was older than me and introduced me to books by Dan Brown. I listened with rapt attention to the plot of the book and I immediately knew that my days of reading hardy boys and young adult books were over. It's crazy how transitioning between genres and different types of books made me feel older and mature over the years. Few pages into the Da Vinci code and I fell, hook, line, and sinker. I finished the entire 500-page book in a day. Back then, I was pretty adamant about having my own copies of books and collecting them, which I guess stemmed from my childhood obsession with collecting comics. Soon, I'd exhausted the books at the old library and had no other option but to trade in my precious books for second-hand books at a wholesale book store very far away from home. Because they were at a secondhand rate, I could now afford more books and although the pages were worn out and yellowed, I was happy. The already folded pages, notes in the corners of some pages jotted down by the previous owner made me feel oddly connected and attached.

Present-day

(Age: 21)

As I grew up and left my teenage years behind, life and boards got in my way and there were gaps when I couldn't read no matter how hard I tried. But once I found my way back to books. I knew what I was missing and knew that I would never stop reading again. I still read books by Dan Brown, Sydney Sheldon, and Nora Roberts. I found quite a few talented Indian authors. Books by Durjoy Dutta and Ravinder Singh made me fall in love with contemporary romance and light humor. I've moved on to reading books on my phone now. I miss turning pages of an actual book, but on the bright side, I get to read countless books anytime and anywhere I want. I've explored many genres over the years, murder and crime thrillers, romance, contemporary, dark fiction, and comedy, and read them accordingly when the mood strikes.

If there's one thing that has been a constant through my childhood, it has been books. Reading is a huge part of my life and very close to my heart. Words and writing mean so much to me. Books have been my solace, my safe place, my companions as I grew up, my fantasy land, and my hiding place all rolled into one. I've cried, loved, smiled, and laughed with books and I can't describe how utterly grateful I am to maa and papa for getting me my first book when I was just 7 and letting me explore my love for reading.

Although, there's one thing I'd like to admit. There's this one genre that I've never read - non-fiction and strangely, I'm still very skeptical about it. But you never know, over time I might come to like that as well!

MAJ

#excerpt from a story i'll never write #short story #my story #journal #journey #writers block #tumblr writers #writers on tumblr #poetryportal #female writers #writings #booksbooksbooks #comics #storybook #novels #book lovers #reading #love for books #draft dump #true story #original story #creative writing #my writing

[bluefirewrites]

Sky High Mall!AU

Hey, this is an excerpt of something I started for Sky High a while ago but never got around to finishing. I’ve been thinking about this particular work because I might rework it for Julie and the Phantoms one day because it has so much potential. Thought it would be cool to share. 

So this is an AU where the kids don’t have powers and they all work at the Sky Shopping Center. It’s a Zach/ Magenta centered story with side Warren/Layla.

It would be Rated T and there is use of language in here. Enjoy! 

Magenta didn’t hate her job. But she could admit that it gets pretty tedious at times.

She really shouldn’t complain. It was a huge step up from working at the pet store. At least, here she didn’t have to clean up after guinea pigs and trying to stop kids from eating dog treats.

But it was a summer afternoon and here she was rearranging the wacky greeting cards at the mall book shop when she would rather be at home, maybe catch whatever’s on TV- really anything to keep her mind off of a certain someone...

“Why the long face, Maj?” The purple haired girl snapped out of whatever daze she was in when all of the sudden her best friend, Layla, bounced into the shop, donning her signature pigtails and wide smile.

“Did you scare a customer again?”

“No,” Magenta scrunched her face, taking the excess cards in the box and moving it to the register, “Why does that happen often anyway?”

Layla trailed behind her, maneuvering through the shelves and a couple of customers, “Maybe it’s because you just creep up behind them before you ask if they needed help.”

“Oh good, I thought it’s because I dress like this,” She gestured to her combat boots, ripped stockings, and well of course her half-dyed hair. Magenta knew her outfit didn’t scream, ‘Customer Service’, but she was always down to help a customer find a book. She had pretty much devoured half the books in there, and had reccs from her fellow book-nik friends in case she encountered the other half.

“You’re lucky though. At least, you’re not forced to wear a uniform,” Layla worked at this organic juice bar in the mall food court so of course they would have made her wear something to prepare whatever smoothies they make. The redhead did a little twirl to show off her all green attire, from the shirt, to the pants, and even her blueberry-stained apron tied at her waist.

“But you look so cute,” Magenta  tilted her head and pinched her friend’s cheeks, “Like happy broccoli.”

Layla gently brushed away her hand, pouting, “If I wanted to be patronized, I should have stayed at school. But come on, I’m off now. I just wanted to see when you’re on break,”

“Got another hour,” Magenta normally would have been off by now, but she ended up taking the evening shift this week. She wanted to change it up, for reasons that may or may involve avoiding someone who she knew worked the mornings.

“I’ll wait,” Layla leaned against the counter for a second before jumping up, eyes wide, “Oh, did it come in yet?”

Layla was referring to a gardening book that she had put in a request for some weeks ago. That girl had a green thumb through and through. Ever since they were younger, Magenta had the pleasure of sharing her strawberries that her family had grown in their backyard garden. Always the freshest, sweetest thing she had ever tasted and Magenta refused to eat any other strawberry to this day.

“Oh yeah. I think Warren got them in this morning,” She threw her head back to yell at her coworker who was stationed on the opposite side of the register, “Yo, Peace?”

If Magenta scared the customers, then Warren Peace straight up terrified them. The older guy was somehow wearing a long sleeve red shirt, slashed at the elbows, and leather, fingerless gloves on this June afternoon and seemed to glower over at everyone who would dare interrupt him from his latest reading.

At least, Magenta would smile at the patrons and actively tried to assist them. He mainly stayed behind the counter and rang people up and would occasionally restock the shelves that were a little too high for either Magenta or their manager, Jeannie, to reach.

She liked working with Warren. He knew just as much about books as her and it was fun to go on and on about their favorite authors, which of the classics were just over-glorified insights of the white man’s mind- stuff like that. Also, she was pretty sure that Warren had her beat with snarky remarks and could keep up with her sick sense of humor.

The long haired dude looked up from the book he was reading, eyes squinting at the two girls. “Purple. Hippie,” he addressed, annoyed to be ripped away from George Orwell.

Layla waved, dismissing his souriness, “Where’s the stuff from this morning?” Magenta asked.

“In the back. Where it’s supposed to be,”

Magenta pursed her lips, “Oh sorry, I mean, can you be a doll and get it for us?”

“No,”

Layla leaned over to rest her chin on the counter, “Please, Warren?” she batted her eyelashes for good measure.

Warren looked into her brown eyes and Magenta knew it was over. The boy growled before uttering out a “Fine!”, slamming his book on the table and stalking off to the back room.

Magenta whistled, impressed, “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Get him to do stuff,” This hadn’t been the first time Warren did something un-Warren like for Layla’s sake. Magenta could count with one hand how many times Warren would actually do what was asked of him, and most of those times involved Layla in some way.

“I ask nicely. You should try it,”

“I didn’t think Hothead over there responds to nice,” Magenta noted a customer waiting to pay for their books and hopped over the counter to reach the register, 

 “...Has a stick so far up his butt that if you’d lip lock with him, you’ll get splinters,” she winked in Layla’s direction, “And I’m pretty sure you wanna do that regardless,”

Her friend flushed instantly at the insinuation, “Shut up.”  

“Make me, Broccoli,” 

She took the books from the customer and began ringing them up. The man looked to be a regular so she knew he was used to her weird antics around the store. Magenta thought for sure the stick up the ass comment would have repulsed any other old man. He merely chuckled at their interaction.

Magenta was beginning to catch on that Layla was crushing on her coworker, but figured that what was stopping her from pursuing it had been the fact that Warren is friends with her ex, Will. Her and Will were on good terms, of course, having known each other longer than Magenta had known Layla. But like, Bro Code and everything- she didn’t want to make it weird.

“Okay, someone has a bit of an attitude today. Something’s up,”

“Have a nice day” Magenta bid the customer a goodbye and handed him his bag of books before turning to Layla, “and no, I’m fine.” She shut the drawer till harder than intended which earned a side eye from the red head.

Warren emerged from the back room with a big book, sliding it over to Layla on the counter, “Here you go, Hippie. One, Gaia's Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture, 2nd Edition.”

“Thank you so much,” Layla sent a grateful expression his way and Magenta swore that the brooding boy’s lips almost quirked into a small smile… like a real one.

Layla pulled out her wallet and handed the money over to Magenta, rattling off ecstatically about this book she was dying to get, “Been trying to get a hold of this forever. Trying to do a more polyculture type of gardening because I learned it would soon develop an environment where there’s no need for pesticides,” she glanced at Magenta, “You know how I feel about pesticides.” At which, the purple-haired girl nodded.  

“I heard the whole, line by line, neat way of laying down crops is just Euro-centric, colonizer bullshit anyway,” Warren remarked which made Magenta raise an eyebrow.

“Since when do you know shit about gardening?”

Her co-worker waved her off. Layla appeared to be surprised and a bit impressed that Warren knew something about her field of interest, “Warren is right though. The whole polyculture gardening is much more sustainable and we do look to Indigenous cultures for that technique.”

Then, Magenta watched as her two friends were engaged in some sort of awkward stare-off, with one of them breaking the gaze to either tuck a hair back or just to switch between looking at the other or looking at the floor. It was cute.

It made her sick.

She groaned out loud, “Do you guys have to do that here?”

That brought them out of that, Warren hurried off to his side of the counter, back to his book and Layla turned to her friend, exasperated, “But seriously though, Maj- what’s up with you today?”

“Nothing,” she gave Layla her change and the receipt for the book, making a move to get away from the register.

“Maybe it’s because she just saw her ex walking around with a new girl,” Warren casually remarked as he turned a page.

Traitor!

Magenta whipped around to glare at him, but alas he was too preoccupied with Big Brother at the moment.

Layla’s eyes widened, mouth gaping, “No,” she turned to Warren, “Where?”

“Food Court,” he replied, sounding disinterested but Magenta knew he was taking some sick pleasure from this.

“Are they still there?”

“Jesus, Layla. I don’t know!” Magenta threw her hands up in the air. 

Thankfully, the store was clear for now. They honestly didn’t get a lot of traffic around this time. She wouldn’t be too stoked for everyone in the store to know her relationship woes. 

 “I’m fine though. It’s no big deal.” she tried to assure Layla, but her friend was not having it.

She placed her hands on Magenta’s shoulders, “I know it’s been months, but you don’t have to be over it just yet. It’s gonna be hard seeing him with someone else, of course,”

“It’s not hard seeing him. Just annoying,”

“When Will and I had ended things, of course it was good and it was for the best, but like seeing him with his girlfriend was weird at first. But I got used to it,”

Magenta sighed, getting where Layla was coming from but it was different, “Yeah, but you and Will played out differently. Lash and I… we crashed and burned.”

She had dated Lash for a good while, like around 5 months. It had been the longest relationship she had been in, and it had started off so well. They had even met here at the mall when she had first started working at the book shop and he started at the skate shop. 

They had a lot in common back then, never minding getting up to mischief and always doing spontaneous things with him. Things that she certainly was not proud of and had earned her a certain reputation at school.

But Magenta could admit that she had been a different person back then when she was with him. Someone she didn’t want to be again. But still, seeing him again after the breakup, with another girl still stung. Even though it was her who broke it off.

She should have known what it was gonna be like, dating an older guy- an incoming senior now- but she thought it meant he was gonna be more mature and that he was gonna be more upfront with her. It unfortunately had meant the exact opposite.

“You can’t help it. You like bad boys. Been that way ever since I met you,”

“I just like people who don’t take shit from people. They just happened to be wearing chains on their jeans and maybe sporting a juvie record,”

Magenta seemed to have a preference, but all for good reason. If she ended up with some goodie two shoes, it was gonna be this morality contest where he would end up judging all the shit she had done, like her own couple stints with the law. She’d rather hang with people who didn’t judge her, and that meant those who have done things just as bad or even worse than her.

“Then how come you haven’t hit up Warren yet?” Layla asked, with mild curiosity.

“He reads Hemmingway, And likes it,” Magenta’s face scrunched up in disgust, “Also, there’s a thing as being too on brand. I just know that it’s not gonna work. We’re too much alike.”

“Nah. Warren’s so much nicer,” Layla’s hands were still on her shoulder and she playfully swatted them away, “You know what? I’ll catch you later. I don’t wanna sit in here for an hour in my own stickiness.” she gestured to all the fruit stains all over her clothes just as a family came in to browse the store.

“Ew, Layla. There are children in here,”

The redhead gave an unamused grin at the innuendo before walking out of the store, calling out to Warren,“Make sure she doesn’t do anything reckless while I’m gone!”

“Not my job,” The long haired boy called from his seat, “Not like I can stop her.”

‘Fuck you,’ she mouthed at her coworker before going off to see if Jeannie needed her to do anything else around the shop. It was only 4 o clock but she knew it was gonna be a long rest of her shift.

#sky high #sky high movie #sky high 2005 #magenta sky high #zach sky high #zach braun #magenta lewis #zach/magenta #magenta/zach #zach x magenta #magenta x zach #guineaglow #sky high au #sky high fic idea #fic excerpt #i don't know if I'll ever finish it

[riverdale-events]

Riverdale Reindeer Games filled this December with so much incredible content, it is sure to go down in history. From frozen noses to warm hearts, shining perfect Polaroid moments to awkward situations full of cute cringe—fandom content creators filled our heads with more than we could think to ask for. Our 8 themes and 2 mini games delivered more joy than a bag stuffed with presents, we accrued a total of 107 creations posted on Tumblr and 62 fics added to our AO3 collection.

Thank you so much to our participants for making the season bright! They all shined brighter than a room full of twinkling lights. Don’t forget to comment, direct message, like, reblog, flail—whatever your pleasure, but take a moment to show your appreciation for the talent and time spent by those who participated. Creators keep the fandom thriving! We raise our glasses to toast the new year and the fantastic content below!

Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

Bonding | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

The Perfect Tree | sweet pea x reader | fic | @worriestothewind​

A Christmas Emergency | swangs | fic | @findmeinpops​

Window Seat Snuggles | bughead | art | @orangenfrottee​

Deck the Halls With Boughs of Holly | bughead | edit, fic | @nothollywheeler​

New Traditions | bughead | edit, fic | @bettycooper​

a daydream (i never get to hold) | bughead | fic | @elizabethjonesiii​

Fool’s Holiday | bughead | fic | @ms-maj​

Kissing Beneath the 23rd Floor | bughead | fic | @sunshinebunnie​​​ (mini game)

Mistletoe Trap | bughead | fic | @sheriff-snikety-snake​​​ (mini game)

Bets and Broken Elevators | bughead | fic | @ms-maj​ (mini game)

all of the lights | bughead | fic | @imreallyloveleee​ (mini game)

8 Days of Christmas | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

In Person This Year | sweet pea x oc | edit, fic | @worriestothewind​

Festive Bughead | bughead | art | @orangenfrottee​

comfort, joy, and sex | chughead | fic | @southsidestyle​

if only in my dreams | falice | fic | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious

in the mood | bughead | edit, fic | @rivernik​​

Radiant Beams | bughead | fic | @fishhoeksunrise​​

First Christmas | jughead x oc | fic | @theangriestpea​​

Secret Santas & Stairwells | bughead | fic | @secretsofthesky​​

Letter Exchange | bughead | fic | @ms-maj​ (mini game)

Community Service | bughead | fic | @crownsandponytails​​ (mini game)

Do You Hear What I Hear | bughead | edit, fic | @ms-maj​ (mini game)

First Christmas Gifts | sweet pea x oc | fic | @the-gargoyle-queen​​ (mini game)

Save Me | bughead | fic| @sweetbettycooper​

20 Seconds to Forever | bughead | edit, fic | @lovedinapastlife​​

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

Christmas Market | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

baby, it’s cold outside | varchie | edit, fic | @tuesdayschildd​​

A Wish | bughead | fic | @bestpillowtalkever​​

It’s Christmas Eve (and they can see we’re in love) | bughead | edit, fic | @likemereckless​​

Secret Santa | sweet pea x reader | fic | @findmeinpops​

tried to reach beyond the emptiness (but neither one knew how) | falice | fic | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious​

All Because of Mistletoe | sweet pea x reader | fic | @worriestothewind​

Fake It (Til You Make It) | bughead | edit, fic | @themaddestofall​

A Very Ugly Invitation | archeryl | fic | @hbic-cherylblossom​​ (mini game)

Cuffing Season | bughead | edit, fic | @lilibetts​​

give a little, get a little | bughead | fic | @imreallyloveleee​

You. Me. Snowman. Now. | sweet pea x reader | fic | @findmeinpops​

Holiday Bughead Icons | bughead | edit | @theheavycrown​​

Going Sledding | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas | varchie | edit, fic | @monicasposh​​

Naughty and Nice | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

Sleigh Ride | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

(as long as you love me so) let it snow, let it snow, let it snow | fredsythe | fic | @fredsythe​​

Sweetie Snowpeople | bughead | art | @lovedinapastlife​

Mother Nature Plays Matchmaker | bughead | edit, fic | @strangenightsofdaydreams​​

Anastasia | bughead | gif | @obiwan​

in the arms of the angel | bughead | edit, fic | @mrscolesprouse​​ (mini game)

Fireplace Secrets | bughead | fic | @captain-kookabughead​​ (mini game)

Meet Cute | bughead | fic | @night-hawk94​​ (mini game)

Through the Snowfall | bughead | edit, fic | @noorakardemmomesaetre​​

You’ve Heard of Elf on the Shelf | cheryl x toni x veronica | fic | @at-cheryl-bombshell​​

A Cynic’s Christmas II | sweet pea x reader | fic | @findmeinpops​

After the Kids Have Gone to Sleep | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

coming to amerika | bughead | fic | @stirringsofconsciousness​​

west coast winter | bughead | edit, fic | @stonerbughead​​

Letters to Santa | bughead | edit, fic | @writeraquamarinara​​

Step Into Christmas | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

New Traditions | bughead | edit, fic | @miss-eee​​

just one thing I need | bughead | edit, fic | @stillscape​​ (mini game)

Santa Baby | bughead | fic | @likemereckless​

if the fates allow | bughead | edit, fic | @elizabethbettscooper​​

Under Your Spell | sweet pea x reader | edit, fic | @southsidewrites​​

A History of Love | bughead | edit, fic | @lilibetts​

Santa’s Coming For Us | varchie | edit, fic | @theeternalblue​

Hogwarts and the Holiday Murder Mystery | bughead | edit, fic | @bettycooper​

The Betty Clause | bughead | edit, fic | @bettycooper​

The Nutcracker | bughead | edit | @theheavycrown​

What Would You Know | bughead | edit, fic | @gellsbellshead​​ 

Betty’s Bells and Barista | bughead | edit, fic | @lovedinapastlife​

a christmas request | alice, jellybean | fic | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious​

A Gingerbread Gala | bughead | edit, fic | @akabombshell​

better every year | bughead | edit, fic | @bugggghead​​

Nothing & Everything | bughead | fic | @lilibug--xx​​

Just A Little Favor | bughead | fic | @lanadeljones​​

Christmas Time: A Que Sera Coda | bughead | fic | @omgbarbiegurl​​ (mini game)

Lucky Number Seven | bughead | fic | @lanadeljones​ (mini game)

Regalos and Carnitas | varchie | edit, fic | @sheriff-snikety-snake​

Holiday Varchie Icons | varchie | edit | @theheavycrown​

our first christmas | falice | edit | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious​

A Cynic’s Christmas I | sweet pea x reader | fic | @findmeinpops​

The Southside Grinch | sweet pea x reader | fic | @theangriestpea​

twas the night before | fp jones, jughead jones | fic | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious​

One Last Christmas Gift | cheryl x toni x veronica | fic | @at-cheryl-bombshell​

We need a little Christmas | riverdale | edit | @stillhidden​​

Christmas Crackers | swangs | fic | @findmeinpops​

Cold as Ice | bughead | edit, fic | @madsinwonderland​​

i think i’ll skip this one this year | halice, fredsythe, polly | edit, fic | @halcooper​​

I Promise I’ve Been a Good Boy | bughead | fic | @findmeinpops​

most wonderful time of the year | bughead | edit | @princesweetpea​​

Holiday Jughead Icons | jughead | edit | @theheavycrown​

So This Is Christmas | bughead | edit, fic | @mieteve-minijoma​​

Christmas Messages | bughead | art, fic | @satelliteinasupernova​​

A Fake Christmas | bughead | edit, fic | @lizzybuggie​​

a northsider for christmas | alice | edit | @deargrilledcheesusyouredelicious​

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Red Lights | bughead | edit, fic | @paperlesscrown​​

in case I stand one little chance | bughead | edit, fic | @iconic-ponytail​​

Elf B | bughead | edit, fic | @ithoughtyoulikedmereckless​​

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Bring the Festive Back | bughead | fic | @captain-kookabughead​ (mini game)

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[rvnclwrites]

Romania 1999 Pt 4 (Charlie Weasley x Female MC)

Summary: AU where MC is an American who attended the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead of Hogwarts. Set eight years post graduation (1999) when she finally gets the nerve to travel abroad and follow her dream to be a Dragonologist in Romania. Check out my master list for parts 1-3.  

Notes: Despite the word count, this one feels a little rushed to me and I can’t stop editing it, so I’m posting it before I lose my mind. Hope you guys like it!

Word Count: ~8000 (Yes, again. Sorry 😅)

"Hey, you ready to go?" Charlie asked, pushing open the screen door.

(Y/N)'s heart gave a painful squeeze as the redhead stepped inside. He was wearing khaki trousers and another crimson jumper, but instead of a dragon, this one featured a bright golden "C" in the middle.

"Woah," Charlie said, his brown eyes moving around the room. "I didn't know you liked Christmas so much."

(Y/N) turned away to hide her embarrassment. She had reorganized and used the colour changing charm on the scarce objects around her house this morning to give herself something to do. "I was bored and thought I should make this place a little more festive." She sat on the edge of the mattress to put her shoes on while Charlie stepped toward the dining table, picking up the snow globe Rowan had given her last year. 

"Any reason you decided to do this right before we're about to leave?" he asked, giving the Christmas decoration a little shake.

"Not really."

He set the snow globe back down and considered her for a long moment before a small smile crept across his face. "You're nervous, aren't you?"

"What? No, I'm fine," she insisted, but as she followed his gaze down to her boots, she realized she was trying to tug the left boot onto her right foot. Swapping shoes, she said, "Okay, maybe I'm a little nervous."

Charlie laughed. "There's really no reason for you to be."

"Easy for you to say." (Y/N) couldn't decide what intimidated her the most- trying to impress Mrs. Weasley, meeting Harry Potter, or just the sheer number of Charlie's siblings. She felt queasy just thinking about it. "Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe I should just stay here."

Charlie snatched her bag from the floor before turning back to her. "I can pick you up too if I have to."

(Y/N) was certain her face was now as red as his sweater, and she hated herself for the perverted direction her mind went. She shoved Charlie on the shoulder before pulling on her coat and taking her bag from him. "Fine. Let's go."

Since nearly all forms of transportation inside the Sanctuary were banned for danger and security purposes, (Y/N) wasn't exactly sure how they were going to get to Weasley's until they stopped right outside the Sanctuary gates.

"Felix managed to get us a Portkey," Charlie said, indicating the battered oil lamp peeking out of the snow near the Sanctuary wall.

(Y/N)'s stomach did a backflip. "Oh."

"Everything okay?"

She nodded. "It's just- so soon. We touch that thing and boom, we're there. Guess I was expecting a train ride or something."

Amusement flickered across the redhead's face as they stopped in front of the lamp. "You've faced dragons head on for nearly six months now, but it's my family that scares you?"

"It's not your family," (Y/N) clarified, "it's all families. It's just… it's been awhile since I've done the whole holiday thing."

Charlie's expression softened and he hesitated a moment before grabbing her gloved hand and giving her palm a quick, reassuring squeeze. "This will just take us right outside the Burrow. We don't have to go inside right away."

She let out a breath, distracted by the tingling sensation in her hand. Thank God they were both wearing gloves- she didn't think she could handle any skin to skin contact from him at the moment. "Okay." 

On the count of three, they each grasped one of the lamp's handles, distorting reality and sending (Y/N)'s world spiraling. Portkey transportation was uncomfortable, but no worse than Apparition to (Y/N). She felt the familiar tug near her lower abdomen and within a minute was landing firmly on unfamiliar ground. Flying skills were definitely an advantage when it came to Portkeys because she hardly ever felt sick after using one. 

(Y/N) adjusted her messenger bag strap while Charlie pushed his hair from his face. For a moment, she wondered if they had ended up in the wrong place because all she saw was a field of snow-covered grass until she turned. 

A staggeringly tall, slightly leaning house stood in front of them. It looked as if each room had been added on as an afterthought, carefully building upward as the family grew larger. There was a detached garage out front, along with a snow-filled cauldron and what appeared to be a chicken coop.

"Wow," (Y/N) breathed. She was used to the city life and quaint suburbs in the States with nosy neighbors and houses smushed together. She didn't know anyone who lived out in the country.

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's a bit odd, but I promise it won't topple down while we're in there."

"Like I'd ever doubt any Weasley's ability when it came to magic," she said, nudging his shoulder with her elbow.

Charlie smiled at that. "You ready?"

(Y/N) swallowed, gripping the strap of her bag for something to hold onto as they drew nearer to the Burrow. "What if they don't like me?"

"Why wouldn't they like you?"

(Y/N) scoffed. "I don't know, it took you nearly three months to be my friend. Does stubbornness run in the family?"

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Trust me, if I were you, I'd be more worried about whether or not my mum will ever let you leave."

That made the knot in (Y/N)'s belly untangle the slightest bit. "Okay." She wanted to ask what Molly said once Charlie told her he was bringing company, but then a scary thought struck her. He had told them she was coming, right?

Before she could double check, Charlie's knuckles were rapping against the door and he was pushing it open. "Mum?" he called, holding the door open for (Y/N).

Gripping her bag for dear life, (Y/N) crossed the threshold into what must be the Weasley's kitchen, and a plump woman with an all-too-familiar head of red hair came bustling in.

"Oh, Charlie!" she cooed, arms outstretched as Charlie stooped forward to hug her. "How have you been, dear?" She patted her son's arm, looking up at him with clear motherly affection before her eyes landed on (Y/N).

(Y/N)'s heart dropped into her stomach as nerves overtook her. She tried her best to force a smile, now suddenly panicking on whether a wave, handshake, or hug was appropriate.

"Merlin's beard," Mrs. Weasley said, her eyes twinkling. "You sure are prettier than Hank or Scott."

"Mum, this is my friend (Y/N)," Charlie introduced, causing happiness to pool in (Y/N)'s stomach. Even though the redhead had confirmed their friendship months ago, she still loved hearing it. "The one from America I told you about that works at the Sanctuary with me."

"It's so nice to meet you," Mrs. Weasley said, enveloping (Y/N) in one of the best hugs she had ever received. Unexpected emotion tickled the back of her throat at the gesture. It had been years since one of her own parents had hugged her like that. 

Feeling vulnerable, (Y/N) forced thoughts of her family away. "Thank you so much for having me. I hope I'm not intruding."

"Oh nonsense," Mrs. Weasley assured, placing both hands on (Y/N)'s arms and squeezing. (Y/N) wished she could read minds because the look in Molly's eyes made her feel like there was something she was missing, like an inside joke or secret she wasn't party to. "In our house, the more the merrier. It's about time Charlie brought something other than just presents for the holidays. I've been pestering him to bring the team for years."

(Y/N) thoughts wandered back to the unanswered question she had mulled over endlessly at the Sanctuary. Did that mean Charlie invited them every year and they just said no?

"Hank and Scott keep pretty busy, even during the holidays," Charlie said, not answering (Y/N)'s thoughts in the slightest.

Wanting to get out of her own head, (Y/N) added, "Someone's gotta hold the fort down while the expert is out."

The corner of Charlie's mouth turned up. "Oh please. I took you hostage to make sure they didn't replace me while I was gone."

A swell of pride filled (Y/N) up like a balloon. Did he really think she was anywhere near as good of a Dragonologist as he was? 

As she tried to think of a witty response, (Y/N) caught sight of Mrs. Weasley, who looked between the two of them with the brightest smile on her face. Oh God. Mrs. Weasley didn't think… No, definitely not. Charlie had just introduced her as his friend. (Y/N) was overthinking things again. She was probably just thrilled to see her son after all this time.

"Arthur is still stuck at work," Mrs. Weasley said, moving to fuss over a pot on the burner, "but he said he would try to get off early today."

(Y/N) turned to Charlie, suddenly feeling rude for not asking sooner. "Where does he work?"

"The Ministry of Magic," Charlie answered, leaning back against the kitchen cabinets.

(Y/N) stiffened, feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dropped over her. "Oh." She tried her best to sound casual, but her heart began pounding in her chest. "What does he do?"

"Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. The Ministry keeps offering him promotions, but he always turns them down."

Mrs. Weasley laughed, shaking her head. "No amount of galleons or authority can persuade that man to give up his fascination with muggles. Do you have any muggle relatives, dear?"

(Y/N) tried to relax, feeling oddly comforted by the loving look in Molly's eyes. She could handle this. (Y/N)'s problems had zero ties to no-majs, she should be fine. "Yeah, my grandpa was a no-ma-" She stopped herself before the American term left her lips. "I mean muggle." 

"Oh, Arthur will be so excited to hear about him. Can I get either of you something to eat?" 

Charlie looked to (Y/N) and she shook her head. Her latest panic washed away any indication of hunger.

"No, I think I'll show (Y/N) around the Burrow. Is anyone else here yet?"

"Ginny, Harry, George and Angelina are up in the orchard playing Quidditch, of course. Bill and Fleur should be here shortly, and Percy and Audrey will be joining us in a few days."

Charlie nodded. "What about Ron and Hermione?"

"They're visiting the Granger family this year, but they send their love."

(Y/N) exhaled, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. At least now she would only make a fool of herself in front of Harry rather than the entire infamous trio.

Nodding his head toward the doorframe, Charlie said, "Come on, I'll show you around."

The passageway they went through lead to a staircase and as they began climbing, Mrs. Weasley called up, "Audrey's staying with Ginny and Percy is sharing George's room, so you two will have to share Bill's room."

(Y/N) knew her eyes had to look like big fried eggs as Charlie laughed.

"Calm down," he said, gesturing inside the first open door to their left, and (Y/N) spotted the two twin beds on opposite ends of the room. "If it still makes you uncomfortable though, I can take the couch."

"Oh no, it's okay." She tried ignoring the pitter patter of her heart at the thought of going to bed later. "Which one is yours?"

Charlie pointed to the one on the right, and she resisted the urge to claim that one as her own for the week. She set her bag down on Bill's bed and looked around the sparse room. "Did you and Bill always share a room?"

"No, Ginny's room used to be mine," he answered, setting his brown leather bag on the dresser in the middle of the room. "Cons of being the second oldest I guess."

(Y/N) bit her lip. She was about to ask why Mrs. Weasley was letting them stay in the same room when all other unmarried guests were separated, but the answer seemed obvious enough. They were just friends, and Molly was probably aware of her son's disinterest in dating. If anyone could be trusted alone in a room with a woman, it would be Charlie.

"So, are you going to give me the grand tour?"

Charlie smiled at her, an unfamiliar expression reflecting in his brown eyes. "I'd love to."

He showed her the remaining bedrooms, adding tidbits about each of his siblings along the way. (Y/N) could tell he was closest with Bill because of their age, so she was most excited to meet him.

They eventually made their way outside, walking up a hill behind the house until they reached a small paddock surrounded by trees and hedges. As (Y/N) glimpsed the four figures on broomsticks, it dawned on her that this must be the orchard. She stopped in her tracks, her legs feeling heavier than lead, and Charlie chuckled. 

"You gonna be okay? I thought you might want us to join them since you're so sure you'll beat me."

(Y/N) knew what he was doing. Charlie's playfulness always helped her relax and she was grateful he knew it. Before they continued on, however, one of the figures dismounted their broom and came barreling toward them.

"Charlie!" a stunning slender woman with long red curls squealed just before colliding into the dragon lover. 

"Oof." Charlie stumbled back a bit before returning the bear hug. "Hey. You're kicking their asses, right?"

"Obviously. There's no real competition until you come home- but don't tell Harry I said that." The woman did a double take as she registered (Y/N)'s presence, and (Y/N) felt a chill travel down her neck. The woman's hair may have been a deeper shade of red, but her brown eyes were identical to Charlie's. 

"Who's this?" Ginny asked, a smile growing on her pale face. The subtle suggestiveness in her voice reminded (Y/N) of Hank's once he found out (Y/N) was going to the Burrow.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N)." She waved slightly before nervously rubbing her gloved hands together. "I work at the Dragon Sanctuary with Charlie."

Ginny studied her with deep interest. "Wait, are you American?"

(Y/N) laughed a little, forgetting how out of place her voice must sound compared to their enviable British accents. "Yeah. Actually, that's kind of why I'm here. Charlie invited me since I couldn't go home for the holidays."

Ginny nodded slowly, glancing back to Charlie. "How kind of you." 

"So, do you have room for two more?" Charlie asked, making (Y/N)'s heart flutter nervously.

Ginny's eyes lit up as she turned back to (Y/N). "You play?" 

It was probably a good thing Ginny looked as though her happiness replied on (Y/N) saying yes- it prevented her from trying to weasel her way out of it. "Yep."

"Brilliant! What position? Please don't say Seeker, we already have enough of those."

(Y/N) laughed. "No, I prefer Beater." 

Ginny looked to Charlie with a unique expression in her eyes and for the second time, (Y/N) felt like she was missing out on something. "That's perfect. We can play girls against guys. Harry can be Chaser for a change."

Charlie chuckled at the look of dismay on (Y/N)'s face. "You may want to introduce (Y/N) first, or we might risk her fainting off her broom."

Mortified, (Y/N) smacked the dragon lover on the shoulder. "Shut up."

Ginny howled with laughter, taking (Y/N) by the arm and leading her towards the paddock. "Hey it's okay, he still gets it all the time. You should have seen me the first couple times I met him. If that hadn't scared him away, nothing will."

Ginny had been right of course. Harry, George and Angelina were all incredibly nice to her. Charlie had already told (Y/N) about how George lost his ear, so she was sure to make a witty remark about it, securing an instant friendship with the joke shop owner. 

As for Harry, she managed to not make a total imbecile of herself and was even a little less starstruck by the end of their match. She did, however, still get a shiver down her spine whenever she caught a glimpse of that lighting bolt scar on his forehead.

"You're a natural," Ginny said as they dismounted from their brooms. Just as Charlie was about to catch the Snitch, (Y/N) had sent a Bludger his way, allowing Ginny to sneak in and snag the fluttering golden ball. "I can't believe you didn't go pro."

A sore spot inside (Y/N) flexed. That was the one wizarding career she had no chance of ever perusing. "I was offered but don't really like the spotlight," she said, which was as close to the truth as she could manage.

They sat on a nearby bench together as Charlie and Harry wrestled the Bludgers back into the box. George had managed to slip away with Angelina beforehand, claiming his disability prevented him from helping, which (Y/N) found hilarious. She really liked George, and her heart ached whenever she considered the pain he was in. And most of all, she wished she could have met Fred.

"So, are you and Charlie together?" Ginny asked as casually as one would inquire about the weather.

(Y/N)'s stomach flopped, and she was thankful her face was already flushed from the cold air. "Uh no," she answered quickly, shaking her head. "We're just friends."

Ginny considered this for a moment, staring down at the powdery snow beneath their boots. "Well I'm really glad he brought you. He needs someone who can give him a run for his galleons." She smiled, but it fell away quickly, and when she spoke again, her voice was more fragile than (Y/N) anticipated. "And we've been down a Beater ever since we lost Fred. Did Charlie tell you about him?"

Frowning, (Y/N) nodded. "Yeah."

"Wow, you two must be close. He hardly ever talks about it."

"Well it wasn't easy." (Y/N) attempted a laugh, but it faded just like Ginny's smile had. She hesitated a moment and cleared her throat. "But um... I actually lost my brother too."

"Oh," Ginny said, her lips parting in surprise. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," (Y/N) reassured. "It was a long time ago. But I think that helped him open up to me." 

Ginny glanced at Charlie and Harry in the distance, a wistful smile now on her face. "I'm glad he has someone to talk to about it." She bit her lip before adding quietly, "I think he fancies you."

Unwelcomed butterflies swarmed in (Y/N)'s stomach, and she prayed she didn't sound as flustered as she felt. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Well he brought you here for one," Ginny answered, looking at (Y/N) like she was missing something obvious.

(Y/N) gripped the ends of her coat sleeves so she wouldn't fidget. "He was just being nice. None of my friends could come visit me and I'm not really close with my family."

Ginny hesitated for a moment. "You do know he's never brought anyone here before, right?"

(Y/N) figured he had never brought a woman here before, but she wasn't a girlfriend, just part of the team who happened to be a girl. "Well Hank or Scott have come here, haven't they?"

Ginny shook her head slowly. "Nope."

(Y/N) tried to keep her breathing steady. "Well maybe he's invited them and they've just always said no. The Sanctuary is hardly ever not busy."

"I don't think so," Ginny said with a cute giggle.

"Oh." (Y/N) wasn't sure what response she had anticipated to hear from her long awaited question, but that answer caused a weird tingling sensation to spread throughout her body. "I, uh, didn't know that."

"I hope that doesn't freak you out or anything," Ginny added quickly. "And it's perfectly fine if you two are just friends. I just-" She broke off, staring admiringly at her older brother. "I know it may seem like he only cares about dragons, but once he cares about someone, he never stops." Her attention found its way back to (Y/N) and she looked uneasy. "Just- if you don't feel that way about him, can you please careful? I know my brothers always feel the need to protect me, but I don't like seeing them get hurt either."

(Y/N) had to pinch her thigh to force away the emotion bubbling up inside her. Charlie was so lucky to have a family like this. She smiled reassuringly at Ginny and said, "I promise I would never do anything to hurt him. He's honestly one of the best friends I've ever had."

Ginny's brown eyes sparkled as a big, cheeky smile grew on her face, and (Y/N) suddenly had a terrible feeling that her confession may have had a little too much honest emotion behind it. But before she could add anything else, Harry and Charlie made their way over to the bench.

"Uh oh," Charlie said, looking between (Y/N) and Ginny. "Do I even want to know what you guys were talking about?"

Ginny hopped up and took Harry's hand, happiness still radiating off of her. "Just how bad you two are at Quidditch. C'mon, Harry, let's go see what my mum's cooking." She flashed (Y/N) another grin before tugging Harry back down the hill to the Burrow.

Charlie filled Ginny's spot on the bench, looking at (Y/N) with a mixture of amusement and hesitation. "Should I even ask?"

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head.

"But she was nice to you, right?"

For a second, (Y/N) thought Charlie was teasing her in spite of her earlier comment, but he looked surprisingly serious. "Of course. Your sister's really sweet."

"Well then she took to you a lot better than Fleur," he admitted. "I didn't want to freak you out, but her and my mom were pretty hard on her at first."

"She's just protective of you guys, that's all," (Y/N) said, trying to ignore the stirring in her chest at the comparison. To Bill's wife. She forced a smile to move on from that detail. "And it probably helped that we got to bond over Quidditch. She was glad you finally have a friend who can kick your ass."

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. "Hank and Scott are never gonna let me hear the end of it."

(Y/N) tried to think of a response, but her heart ached as she watched Charlie's profile- his laugh, that smile. She thought back to what Ginny had said, and a chill raced down her spine. You do know he's never brought anyone here before, right?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Charlie asked.

(Y/N) instantly looked away, pursing her lips together in an attempt to hide her pathetic smile. "I was just thinking about something Ginny told me."

"Merlin's beard. Let me guess, she told you the Apparition test story? They love telling that one."

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raised in interest. "No, she actually didn't, but you bet your ass I'm not letting you drop it now."

Charlie groaned, rubbing his face with his gloved hand. "Oh well, George would've told you eventually anyway. I failed my first attempt because I ended up five miles away from where I was supposed to."

That didn't sound embarrassing- several adult wizards rarely used Apparition because of the risks, and retaking the test was hardly uncommon. "Where did you land?" 

"On top of an older woman shopping."

(Y/N)'s jaw dropped and she leaned against the redhead, laughter pouring out of her. "Oh my God, are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Charlie said, digging his elbow into her side. "Fair is fair. Now you have to tell me what other embarrassing secret she spilled."

"It wasn't embarrassing," (Y/N) reassured him once her hysterics subsided. She fiddled with the end of her scarf, choosing her words carefully. "She just- well she told me that I'm the only one you've ever brought here, and I guess I was wondering what made me so special." 

(Y/N) waited for Charlie to say one of the obvious answers she had managed to come up within the last five minutes. Perhaps it was the age difference- it would make a lot more sense to bring a friend his own age rather than two forty year old coworkers. Or maybe he was too shy to ask Hank and Scott and knew that (Y/N) was less likely to say no. Or maybe Charlie just felt sorry for her and didn't want her to be a lonely loser on the holidays. 

Instead, Charlie laughed and said, "Don't friends invite other friends over for holidays?"

(Y/N) smiled at that. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing Charlie call her his friend. "But Hank and Scott are your friends, and you've known them longer."

The redhead drummed his fingers against his knee, considering. "You're probably going to think I'm a nutter." 

"Try me," (Y/N) encouraged, relishing the way the British phrase rolled off his tongue. She tried to think of what reason he could possibly have that he would be embarrassed by. Maybe he was tired of being the only sibling without a significant other and they teased him over it.

Charlie sighed. "I wasn't lying when I told you Christmas at the Sanctuary is a little depressing, and I was worried that if you stayed back, you might get homesick. And then maybe-" He paused for a moment, looking back down at his hands. "Maybe you'd want to go back to America."

(Y/N) held in a breath, recalling Charlie's expression after he found out about her notorious career hopping. She had already spent six months at the Sanctuary, and he was worried she was going to leave. Her heart felt like it was going to burst.

"And now you think I'm insane, don't you?" 

She shook her head, hoping he didn't see the emotion shining in her eyes. She had never had a coworker care about her like that and it affected her more than she anticipated. "Quite the opposite actually," she said once she managed to find her voice again. "That's one of the sweetest things that anyone has ever done for me. But you don't have to worry about that, okay? I'd never just up and leave." It was risky for (Y/N) to make promises like that, but she would do whatever it took to stay true to her word. Charlie deserved that.

"Good to know," Charlie said, and the expression in his eyes made (Y/N)'s stomach do about a million back flips. "I also invited you to come because of your Christmas present." 

(Y/N) blinked, certain she misheard him. "What?"

He stood and rubbed a hand over his jaw in an attempt to conceal his grin. "We should head back to the house. Bill and Fleur are probably here by now."

"Charles Weasley," (Y/N) began threateningly, pushing off the bench, but he started down the hill, pretending not to hear her as she tried to catch up with his long strides. "We agreed no presents!"

He turned around, continuing to walk backwards while holding his palms up in a shrug as if to say, Oops.

He was so dead.

(Y/N) unfortunately didn't catch up to Charlie until they reached the back door, which he so kindly didn't hesitate to open. She wouldn't have minded so much if it was a small present, but he would have been able to give her that anytime. What on earth would she need to be here for him to give her?

A pair of unfamiliar voices broke (Y/N) from her thoughts, and she tried her best to remain expressionless as they entered the living room. Like George's ear, Charlie had told (Y/N) about the werewolf attack, so she had prepared herself for the worst. But as she glimpsed the healed slashes across Bill's pale face, (Y/N) decided it wasn't that the scars themselves were that bad- (Y/N) had seen wizards in America completely disfigured after encounters with dangerous magical creatures. What was more startling was the stark contrast as the eldest Weasley brother stood side by side with his breathtaking wife. It was like looking at a portrait- tragedy and hope. Love and war. It was a lot to take in.

"Hey, how's Egypt been?" Charlie asked, relieving (Y/N) of her initial surprise as the brothers slapped each other on the back in a hug. Charlie looked so happy to see his older brother, it reminded (Y/N) of how she looked up to Jacob when they were kids.

"Busy. Discovered three cursed tombs just this past week," Bill said, sliding his hands into his pockets. He was taller and more lean than Charlie with his matching red hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "I managed to break the first two though. I said they could handle the third."

(Y/N)'s heart thudded painfully inside her chest even though Charlie had already mentioned Bill was a Curse-Breaker. She didn't think she would ever be at ease when it came to that career.

"He'z a natural. Works zo very 'ard," the blonde woman said proudly, stepping forward to hug her brother-in-law. "How are ze dragons?"

(Y/N) had to purse her lips together to prevent a fit of laughter from escaping as Fleur placed a kiss on each of Charlie's cheeks. Even though Fleur was one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, (Y/N) felt no jealousy. It was hard to when Charlie looked more uncomfortable than Hank did when on a broom.

"I don't see any new scars," Bill added with a quick up and down glance at Charlie. "So I'll take that as a good sign?"

Charlie laughed and started to say something, but Fleur interrupted as her eyes met (Y/N)'s. 

"Oh- where are my manners. Who'z zis?" Her eyes were twinkling the same way Mrs. Weasley's had as she approached (Y/N).

"Oh, it's okay," (Y/N) reassured, feeling her cheeks glow from the sudden attention. "I'm (Y/N). I, uh, work at the Sanctuary with Charlie."

A mixture of wonder and curiosity reflected in Fleur's ocean blue eyes. "Are you American?"

(Y/N) answered with a nod and a shy smile. Even she felt intimidated by Fleur's beauty.

"Wow, you've come a long way for ze dragons," Fleur said, and to (Y/N)'s surprise, she repeated the kissing gesture on (Y/N)'s cheeks. "I'm Fleur, Bill's wife. I would love to 'ear all about where it iz you came from. I've never been to ze States before."

"Of course." (Y/N)’s stomach gave a nervous tug as her gaze shifted to Bill, who was staring intently at her- the kind of stare that made a person worry if they had something on their face.

"Hi there, I'm Bill," he said, taking a step forward to shake (Y/N)'s hand. "Charlie's told me an awful lot about you."

(Y/N) hoped the skip in her heartbeat wasn't reflected on her face. She knew Charlie hadn't seen Bill since last Christmas, so any mention of her would have had to have been in letters. Did Charlie really write about her? "Oh really?" she asked coolly, and it was now Charlie's turn to squirm under the scrutiny. "All good things, I hope."

"Definitely. Even beat him on a broom I heard. About time someone knocked him off his high horse." He elbowed Charlie in the shoulder, but the younger Weasley did not look amused.

Instead of commenting, Charlie nodded toward the kitchen. "Well I think mum's almost done with dinner. You guys ready to eat?"

-

The next two days at the Burrow flew by and soon enough it was Christmas Eve. The family hung out around the house for most of the day, continuing to swap stories and play wizarding games together. 

(Y/N) told Fleur as much about the U.S. as she could and frequently bonded with Ginny over Quidditch. She talked to George about the clever pranks she used to pull on her brother and even managed to bond with Bill a little bit over her limited experience breaking curses. Arthur went crazy for stories about her grandpa, and she showed Molly a unique knitting pattern her mom used to use. It was such a good day in fact, it started to take a toll on (Y/N). By nightfall, she realized she had never had so much fun around the holidays before and that knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Hey," Charlie said, leaning against the door frame that lead upstairs as (Y/N) emptied her tea mug into the sink. "George wants to know if you're up for a game of wizard's chess since he and Angelina will be leaving tomorrow."

"Actually, I'm pretty beat and was going to go to bed soon," she admitted, turning off the tap and leaning back against the counter. The early morning routine at the Sanctuary usually left her yawning at ten o'clock, so she was impressed she had managed to stay awake this long. "But tell him rain check for me?"

The smile that spread across Charlie's face made (Y/N) realize a rain check implied she anticipated seeing his siblings again at some point. She hoped that wasn't too forward. "Sure thing."

Because of the dim lighting, it took her a moment to register the decoration hanging above Charlie’s head, and as she glimpsed the small bouquet of green pinned to the door frame, she couldn't restrain a giggle.

"What?" Charlie asked, his eyes following hers above his head.

Seeing the immediate discomfort that overtook Charlie as he spotted the mistletoe, (Y/N) decided to offer him a bone. "Want me to go get Fleur? It's bad luck to break tradition." 

Charlie let out a muffled groaned, rubbing his face with his palm. "Sorry I forgot to warn you about that. It's a French thing I guess."

"Oh, it's fine. Some people in America do it too, but it's usually just one cheek." She grimaced as she recalled the way her mom's friends used to pinch her cheeks and fuss over her when she was little. "Your face was priceless though. It looked like a frog was kissing you, not a stunning part Veela woman."

Charlie shrugged. "I guess I just see her as Bill's wife, so it's weird to me." 

"That makes sense," (Y/N) said, despite the sinking feeling in her gut. First Sydney and now Fleur. Had any woman ever caught Charlie's eye before? 

She nearly mustered the courage to ask about his former girlfriend from Hogwarts, but the clock chiming on the wall distracted her. "Merry Christmas," she said, seeing that both clock hands were pointing straight up.

An alarmingly smug smile grew on the redhead's face. "You mean Happy Christmas?" 

(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, fighting back a laugh. Even on Christmas and away from the rest of the team he still loved to push her buttons. Well two could play that game.

Pushing off the kitchen counter, she walked toward him, wanting nothing more than to wipe that grin off his face. Instead of passing him, she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, gratified as the playfulness slowly faded from his face. "Happy Christmas, Charlie," she corrected quietly and, without questioning it, eased onto her tiptoes, placing a friendly kiss on his freckled cheek. If the French could uphold traditions, Americans could too. 

Charlie blinked at her, his brown eyes wide and a subtle hue of pink spreading beneath those freckles (Y/N) loved so much. "Goodnight," he replied, but it came out weak and breathy.

"'Night, dragon boy.” She patted his shoulder once before continuing past him to the stairs.

Happy Christmas indeed.

-

(Y/N) couldn’t believe how fast the rest of their vacation flew by. Christmas was a blur for (Y/N) with all the heartwarming presents and affection. The thing about the Weasley’s was it was never about the amount or the cost. It was solely about giving meaningful gifts and everyone was always grateful. 

The only thing that confused (Y/N) was Charlie hadn’t given her a present and whenever she questioned him about it, he refused to answer.

“Why won’t you tell me?” she complained as they packed to leave the following morning. “It’s driving me nuts.”

But Charlie just merely smiled to himself and kept on packing before they made their way downstairs to say goodbye.

“Are you sure you can’t stay another few days?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she held on tightly to her son.

“Sorry, mum. I promised Felix we’d drop off some dragonhide gloves to Hagrid today or we would.”

That was the first time Charlie had mentioned a name associated with wherever the hell they were going, but before (Y/N) could ask who Hagrid was, Molly pulled her into an equally tight embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back to visit again, dear? It was so lovely having you.”

(Y/N) hugged her back, for once welcoming the unfamiliar motherly affection. “Definitely. This was seriously the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I can’t thank your family enough.”

Mrs. Weasley hugged Charlie one last time and just as (Y/N) was about to head out the kitchen door, Charlie tapped her shoulder and pointed to the living room.

“We're traveling by Floo Powder this time,” Charlie explained, leading her to the grand fireplace in the Weasley’s sitting room. He scooped a handful of powder from the vase on the mantelpiece, splitting the amount between himself and (Y/N).

(Y/N) gripped the powder in her hand nervously. She had traveled by Floo Powder before but had no idea where he was taking her. “Where exactly are we going?”

“You really wanna know?” Charlie asked as he stepped into the fireplace. When (Y/N) nodded, he smiled and closed his eyes. “Hogwarts.” He dropped the powder and was instantly engulfed in wild green flames before vanishing. 

(Y/N)’s mouth dropped open. What? They were going to... Hogwarts? 

-

(Y/N) coughed and sputtered as she landed on her feet, fanning away the smoke residue in the air. 

“I’m going to kill you,” (Y/N) said between coughs, stepping out of the fireplace and dusting off her clothes. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner.”

She was surprised to not only hear Charlie’s familiar chuckle, but a deep gravelly one too. The redhead came into view first as (Y/N) blinked open her eyes, but she nearly gasped as she processed the unmissable person next to him. Huge didn’t begin to describe the man who was more than double Charlie’s height and at least three times as wide. Thick, long brown hair covered both his head and chin, and his cheeks were flushed pink.

“Oh hi,” she squeaked, mildly embarrassed.

“(Y/N), this is Hagrid,” Charlie introduced, gesturing to the giant man. “He's the Care of Magical Creatures Professor here at Hogwarts.”

“It’s so good teh meet yeh,” Hagrid said, and his jovial expression instantly put (Y/N) at ease. 

She smiled back at him. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

"Charlie tol' me yeh werk at the Sanctuary with him. Do yeh like dragons as much as he does?"

(Y/N) laughed. "I'm not sure anyone can like dragons as much as Charlie does."

Hagrid chortled, nudging Charlie's shoulder. "Yeah, he hasn't changed one bit. I've known him since his first year here at Hogwarts. Did'e tell yeh he tried to buy a dragon egg when he was just a wee fourth year?"

Before (Y/N) could shake her head, Charlie interrupted.

"I think she's heard enough embarrassing stories from George and Ginny this past week.”

(Y/N) wanted to say speak for yourself, but Hagrid conceded.

“Okey, okey," he said with a snort, holding up his massive hands in defense before turning back to (Y/N). "I hear yeh’re a natural with Norbeta. Isn't she a beaut?”

“Oh, you know her?” (Y/N) asked, surprised.

Hagrid looked at Charlie, shaking his head in disbelief. “Yeh jus’ spent how many days with Harry and yeh haven’t told her the story yet? C’mon, I’ll tell yeh all about it on the way back to my hut.”

(Y/N) followed Charlie and Hagrid through the castle, trying hard to not ogle every new corridor or room that came into sight. She couldn’t believe her ears when Hagrid told her how the Sanctuary acquired Norberta, and (Y/N) felt a nostalgic tug at her chest. It had been nearly six months since that first day when she fed the Norwegian Ridgeback. Time really did fly when you were having fun.

It wasn’t until they reached Hagrid’s place that (Y/N) realized how far they walked. Since Hagrid had met them in the castle, she was confused why Charlie needed to bring the gloves all the way out here- Hagrid could have easily carried several boxes of them on his own.

“Here we are,” Hagrid said, propping open the door. “Yeh take as long as yeh need. Jus’ be sure teh come back for some tea before yeh leave, okey?”

Charlie smiled appreciatively at him. “Of course. Thanks, Hagrid.”

The door shut behind with a bang behind him and (Y/N) looked to Charlie for an explanation, now completely lost. “Take as long as we need for what?”

“Your Christmas present,” Charlie answered, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Her gaze flicked back and forth between Charlie and the castle. “But I thought Hogwarts was the present?”

“No, consider the castle a bonus.” He lead (Y/N) toward the forest off to the right and pointed to a trail in the distance. “The real present is in here.”

“Wait- is that-” She gaped at the dense, snow-covered forest ahead. “Holy shit, that’s the Forbidden Forest, isn’t it?”

Chuckling, Charlie said, “I’m starting to think you’re easily impressed.”

“Oh come on. Voldemort was in that Forest at one point. I know you grew up with it, but this is stuff I only got to read about in textbooks.” 

“Fair point. I guess it’s a good thing my mom never found out how much time I spent in here,” Charlie said, staring around at the tall trees as they continued walking. 

“Let me guess- looking for dragons?”

Charlie grinned. “Absolutely.”

“So, are you going to finally tell me what this is this all abo-” (Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks and lost the ability to speak as the answer to her question stared back at her. She blinked, gaping at the stormy grey Hippogriff standing less than twenty feet in front of her. Her gaze moved between the beautiful creature and the redhead, and she tried to form a sentence but had to squeeze her eyes shut as raw emotion knocked into her like a freight train.

“You still mad I got you a present?” Charlie asked.

She shook her head slowly, still unable to find the words.  She was so overwhelmed she was trembling- partially from missing such a stunning creature and partially from how unbelievably perfect Charlie was. “I- I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"You don’t even know the best part yet.”

(Y/N) blinked, unsure how this situation could get any better.

“This Hippogriff used to be Sirius Black’s after he escaped from Azkaban."

The remaining air left (Y/N)’s lungs, and she glanced up at Charlie, lips parted and throat dry.

“Harry helped Sirius escape on him in his third year, saving both Buckbeak and Sirius’ life.”

As (Y/N) looked back the Hippogriff, she could no longer stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. She quickly turned away from Charlie, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve and forcing out a laugh. “Dammit,” she hissed under her breath. “I’ve been burned and scratched by dragons for the last six months, but it’s a damn Hippogriff that makes me cry in front of you. Now who looks like a nutter.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it." Charlie's voice was low and soothing as he stepped closer to (Y/N). "I won’t tell the guys- as long as you promise they’re happy tears.”

(Y/N) laughed, nodding her head so fast it began to hurt. Without thinking, she flung her arms around Charlie, hugging him tightly around the waist. He was stiff at first but soon relaxed into the embrace, wrapping his arms around her back comfortingly. 

“You don’t know what this means to me,” she whispered against his chest. She stayed there for a moment, breathing in his honeysuckle and grass scent before pulling back slightly to look up at him. 

It was a big mistake because Charlie's body was too warm and his face was way too close. She could make out every last freckle on his smooth, pale skin and it took all of her willpower to not let her eyes drop to his mouth. Her whole body shivered and she held in breath as he smiled down at her, praying he couldn't feel how fast her heart was racing.

Boundaries.

She quickly let her hands fall away and stepped back, her body instantly feeling betrayed from the loss of his warmth and touch. “I just- how can I ever repay you for this?”

“By not telling Hank or Scott you beat me at Quidditch," he answered easily.

(Y/N) shook with laughter, her tears and sniffles now subsided. “Deal.” He always knew how to make her feel better.

The only problem was that as Charlie urged her toward the Hippogriff, encouraging her to ride him for a bit, (Y/N) realized she wasn’t just crushing on her best friend.

She was falling in love with him and had no idea how to stop it.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x you #charlie weasley x mc #charlie weasley x jacob's sibling #charlie weasley #charlie x mc #hphm #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery fanfic #harry potter #Romania #romanian dragon sanctuary #fic #mine #mywriting #rvnclwrites

[urukyra]

Min’atoa Station Post Mortem

Min’atoa Station, my 6-month capstone project for my Game Development course at Yoobee Colleges, in which I fall down a rabbit hole, drown in a pool of tears and learn to make magic.  Or, less poetically, scope too big, lose and remake multiple assets multiple times, and launch a game that falls well short of my goal - yet shows a glimpse of a potentially amazing experience. 

My aim was a linear 3D narrative game - think Gone Home in a Myst type setting with a terrorist theme.. I reckon I got halfway, so there’s only 90% left to go. 

Team vs Solo 

Tutors urged us to push our boundaries, and in my Goodest Boi team I stretched my wings into new areas and thrived. In other teams (whether real or not) I’d felt held back by low expectations. My mantra was ‘play big’. I love to learn, and that means embracing looking stupid, stumbling before you can walk. I chose a solo project, so I’d be propelled to shine, and I was pleased I did. The gasps of surprise from the class even at my prototype were validating. A teacher once said more learners rust out than burn out - having a tutor that believed in me created its own empowerment magic.

New Idea vs Darling 

I was torn between:

A new game, designed for addictive game-play loops, replayability, marketing hooks, commercial 

Min’atoa - unknown market, unproven gameplay, not replayable, huge scope, high risk. 

The gamedev mantra “kill your darlings” echoed in my head. I brainstormed great alternatives that I loved. And yet, YOLO, carpe diem. I left a ‘safe’ life doing what I was told for this. The window was open - now or never.  I’d never “finish” Min’atoa left to my own devices. It needed a structure for existence - the force-field of deadlines, accountability, of expert help. I knew it was too big, so I ‘maimed’ my darling - reduce scope, use existing assets, basic textures, no puzzles - just a story game. That seemed do-able (cue evil laughter). So I talked myself into ‘story-only-Min’atoa.’ Call me crazy, but I don’t regret it.

Tools

I got overwhelmed.comparing narrative tools: Inkle, Twine, Yarnspinner, Ren’Py, Ink. Prairie, Fungus, Novel-software, Scrivener. My author friend Peter cut through my angst by wryly observing that Shakespeare used a quill pen. For my Myst-type story - linear, non-branching, no dialogue - Google docs was fine!  

Writers Block

Although I had a plot, I couldn’t start. Tutor Matt P got me to put story beats in linear time order, then rearrange them into the order the story needed. Write short  ‘memory joggers’ of each plot movement onto Post-It notes. This simple process broke the writer’s block. 

Later, I found myself blocked again, and dedicated an entire week turning these brief notes into strings of story.

Story gating

Player autonomy is a key feature of game design. In game writing, each story elements has to stand on its own in whatever order players come across them, and the plot still has to make sense.  So story games build artificial ‘gates’ to order key story elements (eg in locked rooms), to achieve greater dramatic tension and plot cohesion,  

I fit the plot into the game’s natural gates: portal, balcony, room, and controller balcony, and Arrivals (and later,,Departures) desk drawers; Doors opened with buttons, and crystal docks.. I felt clever making drawer locks, and hiding keys and crystals. The gates were not infallible, but ‘good enough’ in playtesting. 

The downside was, the story game became a puzzle game. It changed how players played, from a slow pace that encouraged reading, to active, testing interactable objects to see what they did. In retrospect, i wish I’d deliberately designed for the slower game feel of Gone Home, where players interact with passive objects whose function was to add atmosphere.

Story Element Workflow

There were 25 notices and 21 letters, each with two gameObjects - players click on a 3D object in the scene, to bring up UI with its matching 2D readable. This meant 92 assets whose materials change when I edit their words. A simple workflow was essential. 

Playtesters noted the 25 notices were easily legible; that removed 25 UI assets. 

For the 21 letters, I felt clever about my idea of stationery. I made stationery (paper, design and font) for each character (Tris, S’tiel, Priestess and Council). Each in-game letter automatically populated its UI stationery with a text string. Instead of 21 UI assets, I only needed four.

I was smug about this at first - I’d polish text; and the UI automatically updated. But for beta, for the first time I had to have textures on all 46 3D documents. It was an awful workflow. I’d play through, click on each letter or notice, bring up UI stationery with its unique string, snip it, create 46 materials from the snips, and tile these to fit each gameObject. 

It was so tedious to change materials, it created a mental barrier to improving the text, even if it was way too long, or made me cringe. I deleted eight noticeboard posters that were too embarrassing. I left “Lorem Ipsum” text on most letters. I wish I’d fixed these. I did find ways to automate this process, but events overtook (see refactoring section) so I didn’t get time to code this.  

Localisation

The more words, the more difficult and expensive is localisation, reducing the potential market, if I were doing it again, I would aim to 

reduce word count dramatically, and use more images

have illegible 3D textures (see for example Zelda, Breath of the Wild) or develop an alien text / symbols

retain the process of populating 2D UI assets with strings, so that it would be easy to populate strings in different languages.

Prioritise Your Intuition

Sam Fleury, Runaway Play gave an NZGDC talk on prioritising your intuition to reduce burnout and improve personal effectiveness. He noted that our tendency to try to ‘push through’ a wall was often driven by feeling unworthy. It often led to bad code (or other work) that had to be redone. 

When I noticed my brain clearly saw the chains of logic, I coded quickly and cleanly When my ‘programming mind’ lost it’s edge, went ‘fuzzy’, if I continued to push I wrote bad code, and felt burnt out. I found it took an active decision to resist the ‘imposter syndrome’ urge to push on. I’d step back, take a rest, or pivot to a task that used another part of the brain (art or story).  

I took note of sunshine, various foods, coffee and rest affected my focus and set up the right environment. Dancing barefoot on the grass is great therapy.

More often than not, when I came back I’d see a bigger picture, and pivot to a different priority, or to a fresh, cleaner approach. I’d never pivot when I was nose to the grindstone. 

I heartily recommend this practice. It was vital for a solo dev on a big scope game.  Pacing myself was not costly, I wrote better code in less time with less stress. And it might seem obvious, but burnt out, tired devs don’t make games that are fun, intriguing, and delightful,

Attributions  

I wanted assets that left the option open to allow commercial use. This hugely limited choice for the game’s many imported assets: ~20 sound effects, music,  five fonts, five paper textures and plugins, . 

I recommend designing a good filing system for attributions. I did record them as I went, but not in one place. Finding them months later cost time I’d rather spend on my game. 

Brian and I made most of the images and icons from scratch. But right at the end I realised an image used fan art I’d made for #Myst25 from Riven, a game by Cyan Worlds, Commercial use violated their very generous terms for fan art.

I wrote to Cyan, saying I’d remove it, but it’d be a lovely Easter egg for Myst fans. Hannah Gamiel, Director of Development, Cyan Inc immediately wrote back to give permission to use it, which was typical of the lovely Cyan approach to their fans. 

Refactoring

We’d planned for Brian being away for 3 months OE, but didn’t factor in a month to reinstate his melted server and hospital with pneumonia. Since Yoobee had only Unity 2018, I’d coded the prototype, Sabotage, from scratch in 3 weeks. 

Once Yoobee got Unity 2019, I reverted to Min’atoa with Brian’s code, which was robust and elegantly effective, But since we were both new to Unity it used unusual approaches - event signals, listeners via parented assets, and master controllers with enums. After painfully watching me struggle, my tutor Woody spelt out the stark choice: strip out Brian’s code and he’d help me rebuild it, or struggle on alone. 

I chose to strip it out. I really wanted to step up at coding, and Woody was brilliant at it. Although Min’atoa would not be finished to the level I wanted in other areas, I could do the writing and art later.  

Deleting two years of scripts left 416 fatal errors; removing ‘missing scripts’ from assets took hours. It would be an enormous task to rebuild. I brutally trimmed my asset list of Brian’s features (a fully functional inventory, and putting items down). and features I’d planned (writing, art, animations, codes and puzzles). 

Then I got intensive tutoring from Woody. I learned: 

keep it simple - add complexity only as required 

use prefabs - get one asset completely right, then 20 others work 

get the essentials (story gates) working - doors, drawers, lifts and locks. .. 

Within a month, most of the functions worked again. My crowning achievement was replacing Brian’s inventory with a scroll-selectable list that appears on hover (over a lock that takes multiple items) and shows what carried items fit in. 

I was also pleased to get different endings working (including one that pivots the whole scene).  I’ll never know what Min’atoa would be if I’d made the other decision, but I do know I would not have learned as much as I did.

The biggest code drawback was no inventory for the 21 letters,they’re just lost . The player can’t refer back to any letter they’d collected. Woody had shown me how to do it, but I spent the remaining time fixing bugs I had, and improving art and gameplay. This is such a major drawback that if I get time, I’d like to issue a patch for it, and I (think) I now know enough to do it. . 

Result 

I launched a game that I have mixed feelings about. On one hand, I have another game in my public itch.io portfolio. Overall, for pretty much a solo game made in a limited time, it showcases my capabilities and adds to my credibility as a  game developer. 

On the other hand, I wish it were more fun, that the story was better, the puzzles more difficult, the game design was more complete. The main failing with the game was the story. I have so much to learn and I plan to fully engage with expert writing mentors next year to learn to

create empathy and connection with the main characters 

reveal through what’s not said, rather than tell

reduce word count (strict 140 character limit per item) 

use environmental storytelling.

Given the need to limit scope, I only included very basic puzzles, that were not at the level of complexity or engagement of good competitors, like Aporia or Eastshade. Brian and I had designed more complex puzzles, but specifically removed those for scope reasons. If I were to do it again, I would prioritise adding to the puzzle component in simple ways such as:

embed hidden clues, codes and hints

add images, sketches and drawings . 

Not having clues to choose different endings is a major omission. For much of the development, I placed puzzle items to make life easy for me, rather than for the player’s satisfaction, The player finds them in obvious places, one after the other repetitively, instead of having to use deductive reasoning.

I would put more time into thinking about how to make it fun for the player to discover hidden items, work out lore-logical places for them, and hint at their location rather than make it so obvious. 

Conclusion

There are definitely things I want to improve in Min’atoa Station, but for now, the game is out ‘as is’. 

Next time I’d invest time early to “find the fun”. Find the fun in the story, puzzles, and gameplay from the player’s perspective as early as possible and build from a solid base of a proven enjoyable gameplay experience. 

At the end, my measure is not even the game. but instead what I have learned. I'm a person with new skills. Looking back my progress seems humbling and miraculous. In 2017, I first clumsily opened Photoshop, my first ever digital tool. In 2019, I made Min’atoa Station, a credible 3D game. Without diminishing Brian’s enormous contribution, or that of my tutors, it was ‘my game’. I designed the world, characters, story, gameplay, modeled and textured 3D assets, 2D assets, the menus, animations, lighting, audio, did the voice acting,  used many plugins and more..I ended up coding everything, I listened and learnt, I asked for help and got lots, I struggled and fought and.. Lo. 

As I reflect on the end of my time at Yoobee, my journey as a game developer has been, and I hope will continue to be, intense and exhilarating. To me, it’s been an incredible privilege to learn to make worlds from my imagination come to life. 

[humansareweirdsedition]

Humans Are Weird: Women Edition Part II

Continuation of my Humans Are Weird: Women Edition that no one asked for! What aspect of women in society will this entail? I do not know. Vallion will be telling the story, so let’s see what they have to tell.

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X >> Part XI >> Part XII >> Part XIII >> Part XIV

Several Earthen moon cycles had passed since the porn incident and Vallion sensed their crew had settled into a dormant state. They did not like the feeling. It had been proven time and time again by the humans that, when things became quiet and calm, it was only a precursor for chaos and mayhem. They shared their thoughts with Lt. Gen. Noriko Murakami and Brig. Gen. Lillian Balogh during their refreshment break, termed “coffee break”, in the mess hall (though coffee could kill a H’hish within an hour if medical action was not taken, humans had no problem consuming the beverage. A H’hish could only consume it if the coffee was decaffeinated). Needless to say, the human women were far from helpful. Instead of easing their doubts and worries, the two multiplied it ten-fold.

The three of them were reclined in their chairs when Vallion brought up the subject. “I feel that something...ominous will happen soon; and I do not believe it is because of that awful movie I and the other H’hish were made to watch by your fellow humans.” Vallion was firm in their belief and gave the two women, one their superior officer and the other their subordinate, a stern, pointed look he often saw other humans direct toward each other in such situations.

Brig. Gen. Balogh was the first to assail them. “Sure...maybe. Or, maybe it’s the calm before the storm, as the saying goes. After that incident with the porn, the naughty children have started to lay-low. For the time being.” She cackled. Vallion’s fur stood on end.

Murakami scolded Balogh and Vallion. “Do not face the unknown with fear and do not create fear using the unknown. What happens, happens. So long as we stay prepared and on alert, nothing can catch us off guard.”

Balogh snorted. “Or maybe we’ll encounter a hostile ship full of dastardly space pirates? No one would expected it coming.’

Murakami shook her head and asked Balogh, “When was the last time space pirates attacked an A.F. vessel integrated with humans, Lilly?” At this point, Vallion knew the women were no longer taking their concern seriously. Vallion had learned over the course of their career with these humans that when they assumed personal given names, serious matters were replaced with friendly chatter.

Balogh shrugged. “You never know, ma’am. Some pirates are just that dumb.”

“We’re more likely to be caught up in an asteroid field, and only if we all were dead asleep.”

“Ah,” Balogh exclaimed, “it could happen if some spy chloroformed us all.”

Murakami again shook her head. “In this day and age? No one would use it.”

“Exactly! It would be so unexpected that we’d all be caught off guard.” Balogh gleefully clapped her hands together as she spun a tale of adventure, heroism, murder, and suspense.

Vallion just sat, terrified, with their claws gripping their cup of hot cocoa. Space pirates. Chloroform. Asteroid fields. Death. It was the making of a terrible Earthen science fiction plot from their black-and-white film days, but the intricate detail in which Balogh weaved the tale frightened Vallion. I can fight a three-and-a-half metre long Bolivoovian with nary a thought, but a few words from these humans, and I’m like a hatchling.

~~~~~~~

Later that shift cycle, Vallion was walking down the lower levels to aircraft hangars to perform a surprise inspection when the ship’s main lights flickered out. Vallion inspected their handheld monitor to determine if the life support was still functioning. It was. However, Vallion was still left bathed in the green glow of the support lights. “Okay...okay...stay calm. Staaaaaaay caaaaaalm.” Vallion chanted this to themselves as they tried to contact the ship’s communication tower. Surely they knew the cause of the blackout. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Can you hear me? Over.” They held their communication device close their ear, expecting a prompt response from Favor Denso’ov, the leader of the technician team, but all they heard was the static of the device.

Vallion repeated their communication. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Can you hear me? Over.”

“Bssssssssh.”

“What in the name of the Saolo the Great is going on?” they mumbled to themselves.

“Who knows?” said a voice behind him.

Vallion screamed as they twirled around to confront the unknown organism, claws out, ready to confront whatever threat came at them.

But it was only Fatima. “Wimp,” she said as she shined her flashlight in their face before continuing down the hall.

Vallion followed close on her tail, as the human expression went as humans did not have tails (but they were told the expression came from clothing rather than anatomical origins). It was humiliating being so frightened by the dark and having their subordinate being so calm. They were thankful it was Fatima who found them instead of anyone else in the ship.

After a moment of silence, Vallion finally asked, “So, where are we going?”

Again, Fatima flashed the light at their eyes. “The ship’s engine? It’s closer to than communications tower; and if we’re to solve the source of this technical problem, then the ship’s engineering crew is our best bet, but keep trying to call the communications tower. I’m sure they’ll reply sooner than later.”

“You’re right,” Vallion said before they fully processed what she said. “Wait, that was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

Vallion shook their head as they worked their way down the hall and l continued their attempt in contacting the communications tower. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Please answer the communication. Over.” Fatima gave them a sideways look. “What?” they asked her.

Nonchalantly, she shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing,” she said.

“Lies,” countered Vallion.

“True,” she admitted.

“Then tell me what you’re thinking,” they demanded. They were feeling oddly calm now.

Vallion watched as Fatima took on a thoughtful expression. They wished the lights were on so they could clearly see her brow wrinkle like it always did when she was deep in thought. They especially liked it when her nose scrunched up when it came to complex or thought-stumping questions.

Finally, Fatima spoke to them: “You’re not a thrill-seeking explorer. You’re frightened by children’s ghost stories, but you still hold your ground when confronted with danger.” Vallion could see her grin and felt their chest squeeze. They placed a hand over their heart, confused by the sensation. “Vallion?”

They blinked and shook their head. “I am a military officer. I have to stand my ground, even when I don’t wish to confront danger. I understand you have forgotten because you have only ever seen my less...dignified sides.” They tried to mask their hesitation. Once the lights were back on, they would seek the assistance of the ship’s H’hishian doctor for a diagnosis of their health. This wasn’t the first time their chest tightened like this, and it was concerning.

Fatima laughed and again the tightening sensation returned. “No, I am very much aware you are a military officer, Maj. Gen. Vallion. It’s what makes the whole thing so much better.”

“How so?” they inquired.

Fatima checked the ship’s map as she answered. “Your disposition suits that of an ambassador than a major general of a peaceful military vessel exploring deep space for other lifeforms and allies in the intergalactic scheme of things.

“Whenever we arrive at a new planet and encounter a new civilization on it, you are always the first one to able make peace when tensions arise. Even when you’re frightened beyond belief, which happens more often than not,” again, she smiled, teasing them, “you feign calm, which calms the crew. Lt. Gen. Murakami always praises your aptitude for diplomacy.”

Vallion pouted. “Honestly, the words themselves sound like praise, but the way you speak does not provide confidence that you are praising me.”

Again, Fatima laughed, but it was cut short when the lights flickered back on. “Bismallah. Finally.” She checked the ship’s map. They were almost at the engine room.

Vallion was relieved. Now they could properly see Fatima. “It must have been cosmic radiation or somethiiiiing.” As Vallion spoke, they were thrown off their feet and hit the wall with enough force to disorientate them both, as the ship shook.

When Vallion opened their eyes, they found Fatima clutching onto them just as much as they were clutching onto her. Their heart quickened.

Fatima opened her eyes and disentangled herself from them. “The ship must have collided with something...” she muttered as she brushed invisible dust from her uniform.

“Ah...yes. Maybe a cosmic wave?” Vallion proposed as they stood back on their hind paws.

“Hmmm...maybe.” Fatima inspected her now broken flashlight with the same calm from before.

“Don’t say it like that, Fatima.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like this is something bigger than radiation or a stray asteroid.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Fatima...”

“You’re the superior officer. Please lead the way,” she said with a neutral expression. They really, really, really hated when she did that.

“Fine,” Vallion muttered, “but you’re going ahead next time.”

“Whatever you say, Maj. Gen. Vallion.

To be continued.

#Humans Are Weird #Humans Are Weird: Women's Edition #Part II #HAWWE #HAW:WE #Humans #Aliens #Humans are Space Australians #Space Orcs #Space Australians #Humans are Space Orcs #Original story #Space Pirates #Scary movies

[snowwolf1118]

Humans Are Weird: Women Edition Part II

Continuation of my Humans Are Weird: Women Edition that no one asked for! What aspect of women in society will this entail? I do not know. Vallion will be telling the story, so let’s see what they have to tell.

Part I < > Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX >> Part X

~~~~~~~~~

Several Earthen moon cycles had passed since the porn incident and Vallion sensed their crew had settled into a dormant state. They did not like the feeling. It had been proven time and time again by the humans that, when things became quiet and calm, it was only a precursor for chaos and mayhem. They shared their thoughts with Lt. Gen. Noriko Murakami and Brig. Gen. Lillian Balogh during their refreshment break, termed “coffee break”, in the mess hall (though coffee could kill a H’hish within an hour if medical action was not taken, humans had no problem consuming the beverage. A H’hish could only consume it if the coffee was decaffeinated). Needless to say, the human women were far from helpful. Instead of easing their doubts and worries, the two multiplied it ten-fold.

The three of them were reclined in their chairs when Vallion brought up the subject. “I feel that something...ominous will happen soon; and I do not believe it is because of that awful movie I and the other H’hish were made to watch by your fellow humans.” Vallion was firm in their belief and gave the two women, one their superior officer and the other their subordinate, a stern, pointed look he often saw other humans direct toward each other in such situations.

Brig. Gen. Balogh was the first to assail them. “Sure...maybe. Or, maybe it’s the calm before the storm, as the saying goes. After that incident with the porn, the naughty children have started to lay-low. For the time being.” She cackled. Vallion’s fur stood on end.

Murakami scolded Balogh and Vallion. “Do not face the unknown with fear and do not create fear using the unknown. What happens, happens. So long as we stay prepared and on alert, nothing can catch us off guard.”

Balogh snorted. “Or maybe we’ll encounter a hostile ship full of dastardly space pirates? No one would expected it coming.’

Murakami shook her head and asked Balogh, “When was the last time space pirates attacked an A.F. vessel integrated with humans, Lilly?” At this point, Vallion knew the women were no longer taking their concern seriously. Vallion had learned over the course of their career with these humans that when they assumed personal given names, serious matters were replaced with friendly chatter.

Balogh shrugged. “You never know, ma’am. Some pirates are just that dumb.”

“We’re more likely to be caught up in an asteroid field, and only if we all were dead asleep.”

“Ah,” Balogh exclaimed, “it could happen if some spy chloroformed us all.”

Murakami again shook her head. “In this day and age? No one would use it.”

“Exactly! It would be so unexpected that we’d all be caught off guard.” Balogh gleefully clapped her hands together as she spun a tale of adventure, heroism, murder, and suspense.

Vallion just sat, terrified, with their claws gripping their cup of hot cocoa. Space pirates. Chloroform. Asteroid fields. Death. It was the making of a terrible Earthen science fiction plot from their black-and-white film days, but the intricate detail in which Balogh weaved the tale frightened Vallion. I can fight a three-and-a-half metre long Bolivoovian with nary a thought, but a few words from these humans, and I’m like a hatchling.

~~~~~~~

Later that shift cycle, Vallion was walking down the lower levels to aircraft hangars to perform a surprise inspection when the ship’s main lights flickered out. Vallion inspected their handheld monitor to determine if the life support was still functioning. It was. However, Vallion was still left bathed in the green glow of the support lights. “Okay...okay...stay calm. Staaaaaaay caaaaaalm.” Vallion chanted this to themselves as they tried to contact the ship’s communication tower. Surely they knew the cause of the blackout. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Can you hear me? Over.” They held their communication device close their ear, expecting a prompt response from Favor Denso’ov, the leader of the technician team, but all they heard was the static of the device.

Vallion repeated their communication. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Can you hear me? Over.”

“Bssssssssh.”

“What in the name of the Saolo the Great is going on?” they mumbled to themselves.

“Who knows?” said a voice behind him.

Vallion screamed as they twirled around to confront the unknown organism, claws out, ready to confront whatever threat came at them.

But it was only Fatima. “Wimp,” she said as she shined her flashlight in their face before continuing down the hall.

Vallion followed close on her tail, as the human expression went as humans did not have tails (but they were told the expression came from clothing rather than anatomical origins). It was humiliating being so frightened by the dark and having their subordinate being so calm. They were thankful it was Fatima who found them instead of anyone else in the ship.

After a moment of silence, Vallion finally asked, “So, where are we going?”

Again, Fatima flashed the light at their eyes. “The ship’s engine? It’s closer to than communications tower; and if we’re to solve the source of this technical problem, then the ship’s engineering crew is our best bet, but keep trying to call the communications tower. I’m sure they’ll reply sooner than later.”

“You’re right,” Vallion said before they fully processed what she said. “Wait, that was sarcasm, wasn’t it?”

“No.”

Vallion shook their head as they worked their way down the hall and l continued their attempt in contacting the communications tower. “Comm Tower, this is Maj. Gen. Vallion. Please answer the communication. Over.” Fatima gave them a sideways look. “What?” they asked her.

Nonchalantly, she shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing,” she said.

“Lies,” countered Vallion.

“True,” she admitted.

“Then tell me what you’re thinking,” they demanded. They were feeling oddly calm now.

Vallion watched as Fatima took on a thoughtful expression. They wished the lights were on so they could clearly see her brow wrinkle like it always did when she was deep in thought. They especially liked it when her nose scrunched up when it came to complex or thought-stumping questions.

Finally, Fatima spoke to them: “You’re not a thrill-seeking explorer. You’re frightened by children’s ghost stories, but you still hold your ground when confronted with danger.” Vallion could see her grin and felt their chest squeeze. They placed a hand over their heart, confused by the sensation. “Vallion?”

They blinked and shook their head. “I am a military officer. I have to stand my ground, even when I don’t wish to confront danger. I understand you have forgotten because you have only ever seen my less...dignified sides.” They tried to mask their hesitation. Once the lights were back on, they would seek the assistance of the ship’s H’hishian doctor for a diagnosis of their health. This wasn’t the first time their chest tightened like this, and it was concerning.

Fatima laughed and again the tightening sensation returned. “No, I am very much aware you are a military officer, Maj. Gen. Vallion. It’s what makes the whole thing so much better.”

“How so?” they inquired.

Fatima checked the ship’s map as she answered. “Your disposition suits that of an ambassador than a major general of a peaceful military vessel exploring deep space for other lifeforms and allies in the intergalactic scheme of things.

“Whenever we arrive at a new planet and encounter a new civilization on it, you are always the first one to able make peace when tensions arise. Even when you’re frightened beyond belief, which happens more often than not,” again, she smiled, teasing them, “you feign calm, which calms the crew. Lt. Gen. Murakami always praises your aptitude for diplomacy.”

Vallion pouted. “Honestly, the words themselves sound like praise, but the way you speak does not provide confidence that you are praising me.”

Again, Fatima laughed, but it was cut short when the lights flickered back on. “Bismallah. Finally.” She checked the ship’s map. They were almost at the engine room.

Vallion was relieved. Now they could properly see Fatima. “It must have been cosmic radiation or somethiiiiing.” As Vallion spoke, they were thrown off their feet and hit the wall with enough force to disorientate them both, as the ship shook.

When Vallion opened their eyes, they found Fatima clutching onto them just as much as they were clutching onto her. Their heart quickened.

Fatima opened her eyes and disentangled herself from them. “The ship must have collided with something...” she muttered as she brushed invisible dust from her uniform.

“Ah...yes. Maybe a cosmic wave?” Vallion proposed as they stood back on their hind paws.

“Hmmm...maybe.” Fatima inspected her now broken flashlight with the same calm from before.

“Don’t say it like that, Fatima.”

“Say it like what?”

“Like this is something bigger than radiation or a stray asteroid.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Fatima...”

“You’re the superior officer. Please lead the way,” she said with a neutral expression. They really, really, really hated when she did that.

“Fine,” Vallion muttered, “but you’re going ahead next time.”

“Whatever you say, Maj. Gen. Vallion.

To be continued.

#Humans Are Weird #Women Edition #Part Two #Space Australia #Space Australians #Women issues #Aliens #Space Pirates #Humans are Space Orcs #Humans are Space Australians #Scary movies #Space #Outer Space #I hope you all enjoy this #HAW:WE #HAWWE

[braganzas]

that’s the way the cookie crumbles [NOTES]

[requested by @jeffgoldblumsmulletinthe90s]

ao3 link

The first time it had happened, Percival Graves had been mildly amused. The other times, not so much.

Credence looked wide eyed and slightly flustered, like he’d been doing something he shouldn’t behind his desk.

oh honey

“Are you feeling well?” He had asked, slightly surprised. The counter hid the contents of the desk from his eyes and he did his best to avoid sneaking a peek.

“Yes.” Credence replied, trying for casual as he brushed a smudge of cream from the corner of his mouth. “How can I help you, Director?”

“I need form 3-E.” He replied, his suspicion growing as Credence hurried in the back room.

It had been odd and he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of his head. If not familiar, the two had at least grown comfortable with one other, which was a necessity, considering how often he seemed to hang around Tina Goldstein. He had even thought that… But apparently not, from the way the younger Scamander’s letters brought a badly disguised twinkle to her eye.

there is nothing that brings me more joy in life than Credence and Tina, Office Buddies

He had thought they had grown past that awkwardness. Having Credence Barebone in the Woolworth had been odd, to say the least. It was a strange experience for Percival to carry around the face that had brought so much trouble to someone he hardly even knew. Still, they had tried to make do, to ignore the Erumpent in the room every time they crossed paths. It hadn’t really worked.

He was a bit abashed Credence had been the one to take matters into his own hands. He had been cornered one evening, the corridors emptied out for the day, just the Aurors on night shift remaining, which explained his jumpiness at the knock on the door.

“He was a bit abashed” please read Percival Graves is a big fat coward that doesn’t understand feelings. Also, Credence wait until everybody leaves because that’s not creepy at all.

“Director?” Credence had asked, peeking into his office. “Could I have a moment?”

“Mr. Barebone, come in.” He waved him inside, curiosity peaked. “Is there a problem?”

“No, not a problem. I just wanted to say something.” He gulped. “I’m sorry, sir, I just couldn’t help but notice that you…”

He stopped himself before continuing.

“I just wanted to say, I…” Credence steeled himself. “I don’t know what you know happened, before…”

poor boo is trying so hard

“Mr. Barebone, it’s alright.” He was uncomfortable watching him flounder so, especially knowing he was partially to blame.

eeww feelings

“No. please let me finish.” He was surprised enough at the interruption to wordlessly gesture for Credence to continue. “I may have thought that… well, I understand completely that you were different people and I’d just like you to know that I worked through it and… I don’t want to make you feel embarrassed or uncomfortable.”

A beat. Credence’s hands twisted together and he saw the blush rising to his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Barebone.” He cleared his throat. “Truly. This was very mature of you. And in the name of fairness, I would also appreciate it if you tell me if I ever make you feel uncomfortable. Deal?”

“You don’t.” He’s quick to deny, shaking his head. “But alright, it’s a deal.” Credence clasped at the offered hand and gave him a relieved smile.

If anything, the late night confession seemed to have brought them both a degree of peace. Credence was not an unpleasant person, on the contrary. He was the very image of politeness and professionalism, always greeting him with a nod and the awkward smile of someone who is still getting used to wearing one. He was also something of an overachiever, frequently pitching in where there was a lack of a pair of hands, be it the typing pool or making coffee.

graves is developing a crush on that pretty young thing at the office

Usually though, his domain was the cavernous archives in the bowels of MACUSA. Percival couldn’t help but feel slightly claustrophobic surrounded by the oak filing cabinets that seem to stretch into the ceiling above.

yeah, graves does not like underground, dark spaces anymore.

Credence is carrying around a tray with Queenie Goldstein the second time it happens. He crosses them in one of the side corridors and is about to say something when he hears her.

“And Jacob said you’re free to stop by whenever you want.”

“He did?” Credence squeaks, looking away, his ears coloring red.

Percival stops himself from walking into the wall, but only just.

look. i love the image of graves almost walking into a wall so much that this fic was already completed and edited and i had to go back and add this in 

“Director, good morning.” Goldstein greets him with her usual coquettish exuberance. Credence echoes her, appearing relieved at his appearance.

saved by the graves

“Good morning.” He looks at the two for a second, Goldstein’s wide smile undimmed at the scrutiny. “Well, carry on.” He bites out, continuing in the opposite direction.

what the fuck

Who the hell is Jacob?

He keeps his ear out for mentions of this Jacob fella and hears a few scattered remarks, usually from the Goldstein sisters. If Credence is in the vicinity, the most common reaction is a deep blush that Percival grudgingly admits is quite fetching. One time it happens as he’s stepping out for lunch, and walks past Tina Goldstein happily munching on a hotdog and Credence picking at his own pretzel.

graves’ crush on the pretty yound thing at the office is progressing along nicely feat. Credence and Tina, Junk Food Buddies

If he’s being entirely honest with himself, he’s happy for Credence. The young man had shown to be resilient beyond measure, to not only live past what was done to him, but also to thrive now that he’s conquered his own place in their world. There’s a degree of admiration for Credence that Percival won’t bother denying.

like, graves has a crush but he also genuinely appreciates and respects my honey

And this is good for him, truly it is. If Credence has a crush it could mean he’s moving on with his life, and if it’s someone the Goldstein sisters, his erstwhile protectors, seem to approve of, then this Jacob can’t be a bad egg. Really, he is very glad.

hmmmmMMMMMM WHYYYYYY YOU LYYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

The cat comes out of the bag one day a couple of weeks later. He’d been meeting with a contact and was on his way to find a quiet alley to Apparate from when he sees that familiar tall silhouette step down the El stairs on Rivington.

“Afternoon, Mr. Barebone.” He says to Credence’s back and the young man quickly spins around in surprise.

“Director.” He smiles at him, head cocked to the side. Oh, that’s… Well. “What are you doing here?”

oh noes he’s hot.

Percival clears his throat.

“Oh I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He continues, looking genuinely apprehensive.

“Not at all, I was meeting someone. Do you live around here?” He asks as Credence suddenly turns shifty.

“Pretty close. I live on 11th Street.” He’s no expert on No-Maj transportation but he’s almost positive the El has stops closer to 11th Street. And Credence still looks shifty.

i actually searched for and saved a 1924 subway map of ny, this is how intense i am about historical accuracy

“That’s still a bit of a walk at the end of a day’s work. Would you like me to Apparate you there?” Percival offers and Credence visibly pales.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself.” He answers with a tone of finality.

“Very well.” He says, straightening his back, feeling prickly and inexplicably annoyed all of a sudden. “Have a nice-“

you know that feeling when you feel ~weird and awkward~ in front of somebody you like and that causes you to behave like a prickly hedgehog

“Oh, Credence, hello!” He turns around at the cheery voice that sounds behind him to come face to face with a portly No-Maj with a moustache.

“Hello, Mr. Kowalski!” The steel in Credence’s voice disappears completely and Percival can’t help himself from turning a disbelieving eye at him. Kowalski turns to Percival and holds out his hand.

“Jacob Kowalski.” He introduces himself brightly as Percival takes the handshake. “Oh, that’s a strong grip you got there.” Jacob continues, still smiling.

you know when you’re a dick to other people bc YOU have a crush

“Percival Graves.” He bites out, dropping the hand. Credence is looking at him nervously out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you closed for the day, Mr. Kowalski?” Credence interrupts and Kowalski looks truly apologetic.

“I’m ‘fraid so, but I don’t mind opening up again.” The man offers but Credence shakes his head.

“It’s fine, wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.” Credence looks at him for a second before drawing his eyes away. “I’ll just be going now, goodbye Mr. Kowalski, Director.” He nods at each of them before hurrying away, being quickly swallowed up by the crowd of commuters returning home for the night.

imagine being stuck talking to your crush and your boss’ boss’ boss who you wanted to fuck when he had been impersonated by a magical fascist

Percival takes his leave with a nod before ducking into an alley and Apparating away.

So.

That was the famous Jacob.

He was not what Percival expected.

Truthfully, the Jacob he had conjured up in his mind was some faceless, generically handsome young man to stand next to Credence. Hardly a living, breathing human No-Maj. Oh, that was going to be a problem.

One he had absolutely no interest getting involved in. Especially since neither of the Goldsteins have seen fit to discourage the little affair.

He was going to stay in his lane and not meddle. Mr. Barebone was an adult and his life was none of Percival’s business.

percival graves is gonna stay in his lane bc he does not care. at all. it’s not his business. 

Unfortunately all the progress that had been done seemed to have evaporated in the course of a few minutes. Gone were the friendly nods and small smiles and the greetings of “Good morning, Director” he had become accustomed to without realizing it. Credence was still the very image of professionalism but there was an awkwardness there that he had believed had been buried for good. The return of twisting hands and ducked heads was a deeply unwelcome development.

Equally unfortunate was the random appearance of boxes of Kowalski’s Quality Baked Goods around the office, because apparently he’s surrounded by personnel that have no respect for the Law, whatsoever.

everybody wants to fuck jacob kowalski. seriously, he’s like catnip for wizards.

One day he’s alone in the break room and he angrily tries one pastry that looks unsettlingly like a Niffler. He’s aghast at himself for enjoying it so much.

On another, he just takes to staring angrily at the box on the counter. A throat being cleared awakes him from his staring contest with a cream puff and he turns his glare to the man next to him.

“What is it, Anthony?” He bites out.

“It’s Abernathy, actually, sir.” The man mumbles before looking at him carefully. “Are you feeling alright, sir?”

“I’m fine.” He replies tensely before getting up and barricading himself in his office because he must be losing his damn mind.

This whole situation is ridiculous, he argues with himself. Why is he so bothered by this? He can’t say it’s because of the Law, because he could have, should have, reported the situation if he thought it was in breach. But it’s not illegal for a wizard to buy from a No-Maj, hell most of his fellow wizards buy groceries from No-Majs because they’re cheaper by the pound.

so, this is entering meta territory but....... i imagine there must be a very small wizarding community in america bc rappaport must have worked as a big deterant to immigrants from europe (in contrast, canada, brazil, and argentina must be BOOMING). so, if you’re gonna grow food for such a small number of ppl in magical ways, it’s probably gonna be very expensive if we apply normal market rules

Mr. Barebone isn’t doing anything wrong by buying sweets from a neighborhood bakery. It’s just…

Unsettling.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mr. Barebone. On the contrary, he had already given ample proof of being an intelligent young man with a good head on his shoulders. Which is why he couldn’t understand the fixation.

What was it? Was it the moustache?

this is also me projecting, i admit

He catches sight of his distorted reflection in the chrome of the fountain pen and grimaces. He really should have taken a longer leave of absence.

A few days later, he returns to his contact on Rivington Street. Apparently, he glares through the whole meeting and leaves a very nervous informant behind as he shuts the door and stalks out. He can’t wait to get out of this damn street. He’s heading for the usual alley when he catches sight of a head of familiar blond curls through a restaurant window.

He slows down and takes a few steps back.

Is that…

Queenie Goldstein and Jacob Kowalski sitting across from one another, gazing into each other’s eyes?

Son of a bitch.

he’s just so offended that these two are going around behind credence’s back

Kowalski is even resting his head on his hand, Goldstein smiling widely at him.

He reminds himself a Graves, especially him, does not make scenes. He has to summon all his good breeding and willpower but he braces his shoulders and walks deliberately to the Apparation point without breaking Rappaport’s Law his own damn self.

He’s fuming as he reappears in an alley on Broadway.

Just who the hell does this Jacob Kowalski thinks he is, some kind of baking Casanova seducing wizards and witches left and right?

i will never write anything better than this line. i know this and accept it.

And then there’s Credence. How is Credence going to react to this? He’s shown himself to be immensely strong but it’s still a dirty betrayal by the both of them. Percival has hexed people for less.

Should he even meddle? He’s never involved himself in the personal lives of MACUSA staff nor has any intentions to, but…

If Credence finds out any other way and it just hurts him more? If Percival could spare him that pain, shouldn’t he at least try? In the name of maintaining a harmonious workplace, he reminds himself, nothing more.

whyyyyyyyyy  youuuuuu lyyyyyyyyingggggg

His feet walk him through MACUSA and take him down to the archives without his consent, he realizes as he blinks at the double doors. Well, might as well.

He steps inside, the same unsettling feeling of being too far underground crawling beneath his skin. He has no idea how Credence does it every day, he’d be tearing his hair out in one hour. His steps echo across the silent room. He looks at his wristwatch and curses under his breath, Credence is still at lunch, most likely.

He turns around and is reaching for the door when it swings open, the man himself stepping quietly inside.

“Director.” The surprise is enough to remove any awkwardness and Percival is struck by how much he missed this. “I’m sorry, I was at lunch, can I help you with something?” He asks, stepping over to his work place, a light coat and hat in hand which are quickly hidden from Percival’s sight.

He should say something, he reminds himself, as Credence cocks his head at his loud silence, a worried look in his eyes. Percival is not going to examine the warmth he feels at being the recipient of that concern.

oh noes he’s cute

“Sir, are you alright? Should I call somebody?” He’s rising out his chair and Percival shakes his head.

“Forgive me, I was distracted.” Credence nods slowly, like he’s some odd specimen. “I need form 23-F, please.” He manages to choke out before blanching in horror at himself. Credence nods, obviously not realizing what he asked for and goes into the back.

“What the fuck?” He whispers once Credence is out of hearing distance. He’s tempted to run out of the archives but he knows that would be even more mortifying.

Credence is frowning when he returns, looking down at the form that covers Indecent Behaviour complaints.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Credence asks quietly as he slips him the form. Percival resists burying his head in his hands and decides once he’s back in his office he’s going to do a deep soul search on why he keeps acting like a complete moron in front of the young man.

because he is a complete moron, next question

The door opens at that moment, hopefully sparing him any further embarrassment. Or so he foolishly thought because it’s Queenie Goldstein in a swirl of pink taffeta, blond curls and a dazzling smile that slips through the door, a familiar beige box in her hand. That is some nerve, he fumes.

“Hello, Credence, Director.” She greets them, completely ignoring the withering look Percival is sending her and Credence’s confused one jumping between the two of them. “I gotcha something.”

“Thank you.” Credence thanks her and Percival really is so furious at the whole thing he just bites out an acid “how nice” under his breath.

eveybody should have a percival graves friend in cause your crush hooks up with somebody else

Queenie smiles widely, waving them both off with a twinkle in her eye and flouncing off.

Percival’s hands clench at the counter before opening his mouth to excuse himself, when Credence interrupts him.

“Sir?”

Percival hums and Credence takes it as indication to continue.

“You told me to tell you if I ever felt uncomfortable around you.” Percival feels his heart sink. “And while I wouldn’t say that you’ve made me uncomfortable and that I am aware also to blame in that.”  Credence waves off his attempt at interruption. “There’s something going on and it started that day.”

Percival nods and steels himself, elbows leaning on the counter.

“That day, I noticed the way you looked at Mr. Kowalski and while it truly isn’t my intention to tell you how to live your life, I feel I should remind you that Rappaport’s Law doesn’t allow… close relationships with No-Majs.” He hopes he sounded official enough as he looks at a quickly reddening Credence.

“Oh. That.” He whispers, head bowed.

“Yes.” He feels like a wretch.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Director, Mr. Kowalski doesn’t care for men, like that.” His tone changes on the last two words, there’s a weight there. “It’s just… He was always very nice to me, but I knew it could never…” He trails off before raising his head and he looks so proud it takes his breath away. “But thank you, for coming to me with this, it means a lot.”

look. i really made it a point of these two being grown ups and dealing with shit in a mature grown up way instead of going through the misunderstandings path. credence goes on with his life, has a crush on a straight, isn’t reciprocated and he deals with it himself. graves has a crush but he’s not a creep about it, he likes credence but he also respects him, and he’s more worried over his feelings at queenie x jacob, than getting an opening in for himself BC THIS IS A NICE STORY WHERE PEOPLE ARE NICE

Percival nods, heart full, feeling impossibly fond of the young man in front of him.

He pushes himself off from his position leaning against the counter, and feels slightly embarrassed at the whole thing.

“Director?”

“Yes, Credence?” His given name slips out and Credence’s eyes widen.

oops

“Your form.” Credence is holding out that thrice damned piece of paper he had completely forgotten about.

“Thank you.” He steps back and reaches for it.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Graves.” Credence smiles at him with a twinkle in his dark eyes and he’s not strong enough to stop himself from reciprocating. “Have a nice day.”

cheeky

Two days later, Credence is on coffee duty. Percival raises his head from his notes at the characteristic four knocks on the door that nobody else seems to use.

“Come in.” Credence steps inside, a tray of mugs in his hands and sends him a small smile as he reaches out for his mug with a sigh. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” He says and bites his lip, immediately afterwards, clenching his fingers at the rectangular tray.

“What’s wrong?” He wants nothing less than the return of the hesitant Credence.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He’s quick to assure. “You know that diner on Murray Street? I hear they have very good coffee.”

“Do they?” There’s a buzzing in his ears and it’s not completely unpleasant.

“Yes. Would you like to try it, someday?”

get it boi

“Yes, that would be very nice.” He can’t stop the smile to creeps up on his face, especially when he sees it reflected on Credence’s.

they’re so ridiculous i love them  

#my words