#I can’t believe I’m finally legally allowed to make jokes about the books

[voraciousvore]

The Half-Blood Giant (46/51)

***Contains hard, fatal, unwilling vore and blood/ gore***

Chapter 46: Jail

Hunter sprawled out in the backseat of the police cruiser with a smug look on his face. He wasn’t worried in the least. With his magic, he could escape any cuffs or jail cell with ease. He noticed Ray was glancing at him in the rearview mirror and smirked at him. He didn’t believe he had done anything wrong. Humans were his natural prey, fit to be eaten by an apex predator like him. 

Joey stayed outside with Eren, hugging her against his chest until the flow of tears waned. When her sobs had subdued enough for her to talk, Joey asked her gently, “Eren, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” 

“N-no...” Eren hiccupped. “J-Joey, I can’t do this anymore, I just can’t...” A fresh burst of tears streamed down her face. “I tried so hard, but I can’t... it’s too much...” 

“Shhhhhh,” Joey hushed her softly, massaging her back with his thumb. “Shhhhhhh. It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay...” He pressed his lips to her in a tender kiss, noting how much she was trembling. His heart broke for her as he saw how much she was suffering. Hot anger bubbled up inside him for that monster who would dare to try and harm his precious Eren. 

Joey enclosed Eren in his hand against his body, so she would feel safer, before opening the car door to speak to Ray. “Take him back to the police station. I’ll stay here and get witness statements at the clinic for the police report.” He gritted his teeth. “And Ray? Try to find out who this leg belonged to.” He plopped the severed limb into Ray’s hand. Ray looked ill as he fixated on the macabre sight. 

“I-I found that stuck in his teeth,” Eren quavered, her face waxen. “That’s when he...” She choked, her face twisting up. From the back seat, Hunter laughed softly with bitter hatred, making Eren flinch. Joey closed his hands around her again defensively. The two cops glared at him and Joey slammed the door, storming off. Hunter laughed harder.

Ray was normally professional when performing his cop duties, but hearing Hunter’s chilling laugh in response to Eren’s suffering touched a nerve. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that? What the hell’s wrong with you, kid?” 

Hunter leered at him, still giggling like he had just heard a great joke. “I’m normal. It’s the rest of you giants that are backwards! I mean, loving a human... imagine debasing yourself like that, stooping to their level. Pathetic.” His expression contorted with savage venom, becoming deathly serious. “Love is for fools. I’m no fool.” 

Ray shook his head but didn’t deign to respond. He didn’t understand where the teenager’s rage was coming from, but he was relieved they finally had the evidence to lock him up so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. He drove to the police station, deep in thought. He got worked up as he thought about how this deranged demon had been walking around freely where Pedro worked. He could understand now, all too well, why Joey had almost blasted Trent’s head off when they rescued Eren. Prison time, even for life, seemed like an insufficient punishment for murdering human kids. 

Hunter seemed almost bored when they booked him. He glared at the camera when they took his mug shot, practically searing a hole through the lens. He went through the motions without any protest, allowing them to take his fingerprints and swab his cheek for his DNA. Oddly enough, Ray couldn’t find a “Hunter Ogreson” in any databases, regardless of what information he used. He didn’t have any ID, birth certificate, or state-issued identification number. It was as if he didn’t exist, or had never been born. 

Ray brought Hunter into the interrogation room. He was offered the services of the public defender for legal counsel, but Hunter dismissed this recommendation, deeming a lawyer unnecessary. Ray questioned Hunter about the missing students, attempting to finesse information or perhaps a confession out of him, but Hunter refused to divulge anything useful and was frustratingly tight-lipped. Eventually, Ray took him to the cells. 

Hunter’s crimes were very serious, so he was placed in a special high-security section of the jail, even though he was technically a minor. Ray escorted the gigantic teenager to his cell, which he would have to share with another occupant. Hunter inhaled a musky scent that made the hair on his neck stand on end. He began to sweat as the smell grew stronger, until he was standing outside a cell. As Ray unlocked the door, Hunter spied the foreboding silhouette of a huge giant, laying down in one of the bunks. 

Ray pushed Hunter into the cell, slammed the bars shut, and walked off. Hunter stiffened, instinctive fear coursing like electricity through his insides. He balled his hands into fists and braced himself as the shadow stirred. His eyes confirmed what his olfactory senses already knew as the giant sat up and his face entered the light. It was the odious man who had taken his finger, who haunted his nightmares and changed his life for the worse: Jacques. 

Jacques stood up, a befuddled look crossing his gaunt features. While he recognized Hunter’s unique scent, the boy had been younger and significantly smaller when they last crossed paths. Now, Hunter was absolutely massive, even taller than Jacques. Hunter remained tense, even when he saw that he now possessed the size advantage. 

“You,” he muttered through gritted teeth. 

Jacques cocked a brow as he sized up the other giant. “You’ve grown some, kid.” His mouth spread into a grin, his icy blue eyes glowing with bloodlust. “You still smell human though. Too bad I don’t have my knife. I’d take the rest of your fingers if I could.” He took a step forward, and Hunter stumbled back into the bars of the cell. 

“Still a coward, I see,” Jacques chuckled. “Too bad you don’t have Mommy to come and save you this time!” He took another step towards Hunter, his shoe thunking heavily on the hard concrete floor. Hunter shirked away and pressed his back harder into the metal bars. He squeezed his eyes shut as his heart hammered against his sternum. 

He hated this feeling of fear and powerlessness. He wanted to be the one in control, that had the ability to harm, to physically overpower his adversary. Yet, his prior formative experience with this giant, so full of agony, paralyzed him. He remembered the sharp pain, the hot blood flowing down his arm, the weight of the bigger man crushing him into the dirt, suffocating him as his lungs were compressed. His chest tightened and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

For some reason, he remembered his mother. He’d found her covered in saliva that day, but unharmed. He’d been mutilated but she remained unscathed, despite her puny size. Rage, that familiar draught of poison, boiled in his guts. How was it that he was so pathetic and weak? He resented his own inadequacies, his own humanity. Yet, he had changed since then. He wasn’t the same scared little boy. He was older now, much bigger, a proper giant. Large enough to make his grandpa proud, larger than the menacing giant before him. 

He shouldn’t fear him. He had no reason to. He was the one in control here, in power. He was the superior lifeform. Plus, he had his magic. He wasn’t defenseless. He could make himself grow, or... just then, a strange idea entered his head. He had the capability to shrink himself: Was it possible for him to shrink somebody else? He had to try it, and he had the perfect test subject right in front of him. He opened his eyes just as Jacques roughly grabbed his collar. He slapped the man’s bony hand away and shoved him back hard. Jacques was slightly startled by his reaction, but recovered briskly with a nefarious sneer. 

“So you have some fight in you after all,” he scoffed. Hunter responded by surging forward and slamming him into the wall, pinning him against it. Jacques was huge, and had more strength than one would expect when compared to his wiry frame, but Hunter was both bigger and stronger. 

“I’m not afraid of you anymore,” Hunter snarled. “I’m going to make you pay for what you did to me.” Jacques’s expression dropped when he saw the bloodthirsty fire burning in Hunter’s eyes. He tried to fight back, but Hunter had his arms pinioned in his powerful fists. Hunter’s face cracked into a hideous grin when he activated his magic and Jacques began to shrink before him. Jacques looked confused, then baffled, then horrified as Hunter seemed to grow larger until he towered over him as a colossus. He gaped up at him, dumbfounded. He didn’t get the chance to run before Hunter snatched him off the ground and raised him to his face. 

“What the hell? What is this?” Jacques uttered, still in shock as Hunter’s vast face expanded in front of him like a landscape of living flesh. 

“How does it feel, you piece of shit? To be small and helpless? No better than a human?” Hunter taunted, prodding him in the chest with an enormous finger. Jacques snapped at his finger, biting into the tip, but he was too tiny to cause any real damage. Hunter guffawed and poked at him again, squeezing his fingers tighter around the shrunken giant. Jacques paled and squirmed with discomfort. 

“I ought to return the favor, and take one of your fingers,” Hunter jeered. “Or maybe ALL of them. Even better!” Jacques recoiled, but couldn’t stop Hunter from pinching his miniscule hand and forearm between his immense finger and thumb. 

“No! Stop!” he squawked, but Hunter ignored him, forcing the tiny man’s hand up to his maw. Jacques strained with all his might but couldn’t prevent his fingers from sliding in between the giant’s lips. His middle finger contacted wet bone and caused him to shudder. “Please don’t…” 

Hunter ignored his pleas for clemency and separated his teeth, inserting one of the fingers carefully between his incisors. He would do one finger at a time, since he wanted Jacques to suffer. He bit down, cleaving through flesh and bone. A shot of blood erupted into his mouth, heralded by an earsplitting screech from his captive. Hunter grinned, his teeth stained with scarlet. He maneuvered another finger between his teeth and bit down again. More screams, more blood. He kept going, snapping and crunching and squishing, until the whole hand was devoid of fingers. 

“Alright! I get it! I learned my lesson! No more!” Jacques bawled. “Oh God, STOP!” Hunter released the stump and Jacques gripped it with his other hand as crimson squirted from the open holes. Hunter sucked the blood off his teeth and grinned as ruby drops dribbled from his chops. 

“Time for the other hand,” he announced with glee. Jacques jerked back but couldn’t stop Hunter from wrenching his hand out towards his mouth. Hunter drew the hand into his maw and licked it all over with his tongue, just to see Jacques wriggle like a worm speared on a hook. He tasted lean and gamey, like venison. He nibbled on his fingers and hand to toy with him and savor his fear. Jacques whimpered, struggled, and cringed every time he anticipated Hunter to bite down, but the giant wanted to prolong his suffering. He slurped his arm further inside, almost up to the shoulder. 

Hunter was intoxicated with the power he held. He wrapped his tongue around Jacques’s arm and licked it all over, coating it in drool. Jacques felt the heat and wetness with terrible dread. He was lightheaded and nauseated from losing so much blood. Suddenly, Hunter brought together his teeth with a fierce snap, slicing off his arm. Jacques squealed like a pig being butchered. Hunter didn’t stop there and voraciously sucked him entirely into his mouth. He bounced him on his tongue until one of his legs was sprawled over his lower molars. The guillotines of bone closed with a solid crunch, accompanied by a fountain of warm coppery blood. Jacques screamed vulgar curses. 

Hunter swallowed the man, along with the splash of blood, in the throes of ecstasy. His belly felt so delightfully full as Jacques plunged inside. His prey didn’t struggle much, since he was mostly bled out, but Hunter didn’t mind. He had overcome his worst enemy, both in a literal and spiritual sense, and proved his supremacy. Jacques died inside him and Hunter layed on his cot for a while, basking in pleasure as he digested his meal. 

He figured he would be able to sneak out easier if he waited for evening. He took a brief nap and woke up refreshed. He checked that the coast was clear before shrinking small enough to slide through the bars with ease. If anyone approached, he could always shrink smaller and hide. The giants in this realm couldn’t track his scent either. He walked down the giant hallway, which was vast at his tiny size, and passed rows of jail cells. The other prisoners didn’t notice him, since they weren’t expecting to see a human-sized person strolling around a giant jail. Hunter took his time, surveying his surroundings with a haughty grin.  

After a long, long excursion, he finally made it to the door at the end of the hallway, unseen. He was small enough to slip underneath without having to even open the door. The other side had more activity, despite the late hour, with giant police officers carrying out their usual responsibilities. Hunter reduced himself more, just for extra security so he would be harder to see. He sidled up against the walls and moved slowly or stopped when any giants were close by. However, nobody was looking for a miniscule escapee, so he wasn’t worried about getting caught. If anything, he was more concerned about getting accidently kicked or squashed at this size. 

Mixed emotions stirred in him as he observed the giant officers clomping around the station, oblivious to his presence. In his current state, he couldn’t help but feel a mild thrill of fear when anyone so massive came close to him, with their substantial steps causing earthquakes. They moved with alarming swiftness despite their immensity. Yet, his arrogance enabled him to see them as his inferiors, especially after he’d just devoured his hated enemy. With his magic, he could shrink and eat anybody he pleased. Nobody was safe from his wrath, nobody was above him or could stand in his way. He held all the power. He was above the law. He could do whatever he wanted with impunity. He loved every second of it. 

He ruminated over what he wanted to do. Obviously, he couldn’t go back to the boarding school like nothing had happened after escaping from jail. His thoughts turned to the two officers that arrested him and had been harassing him all this time. He wanted to teach them a lesson and make them pay. Besides, that little dentist girl had tasted incredible. He wouldn’t mind eating her, going the whole way this time. And the bigger officer: He had a relationship with Mr. Pablo, didn’t he? Another appetizer to fill his belly. Hunter smirked. He had a devious plan cooking in his brain. He escaped from the police station by crawling under the front door and vanished into the night, undetected. 

Chapter 47

Chapter 1

#ehhh whatever I guess I'll start throwing some tags on this again idk #hard vore #fatal vore #unwilling prey #unwilling vore #male pred #male prey #shrinking #shrink #vore writing #vore stories #vore story #g/t vore #gt vore #v0re #v.ore #v/ore #v0r3

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 4

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Summary: You try to be friends with Wanda. Frankly, you could try a little harder. (Ice cream date, but it’s not really a date, but like it is but it’s not)

PS: There are like three swear words, mentions of exercise, and you eat a lot of pancakes but that’s cause you’re hungry. It’s not a problem. Also, if you are actually athletic, are fit, or like to exercise, you aren’t and you don’t. Not in this house.

You wake up the next morning with a sore neck. As you sit up, you see Nat standing beside the couch looking at you over her coffee cup scaring the life out of you. 

“So, how’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Like a princess,” you sarcastically reply. Stretching, you hear your body popping in all different places. Maybe you will take Pietro up on his offer.

“I know what will help. Some exercise. Get ready. We’re going on a hike.”

You finally take in Nat’s appearance and see her sporting the attire for a hike. 

You groan. “You say hike, but I know you really mean running at an incline.”

“Come on. Don’t be a baby. Exercise is good for you. When’s the last time you got any?”

You want to make a joke because of how she worded it, but your mischievous smile gives you away.

“Exercise, Y/N. When’s the last time you got any exercise,” she clarifies.

“The last time you asked me that.”

“A year ago?” 

“And my body is still sore. Ask me again in a few months,” you go to lie down again but she throws a couch cushion at your head. “Okay, okay. Jeez, woman. I’m up.”

When you return from your hike, you are heaving. You don’t ever really think about how unfit you are, which makes sense when you don’t spare 5 minutes to do any kind of exercise, but a hike with Nat will surely remind you. You are sweating buckets and just want to pass out when you enter the house. Everyone is awake presumably having breakfast. You can smell the pancakes from the living room. Your stomach growls. You want to eat but even chewing sounds like too exhausting at the moment. You just want to knock out. You head over to your sleeping quarters for the week, but before you collapse on the couch, your cousin says, “I don’t want any sweat on my couch, Y/N.”

“Ugh,” you complain but comply and go to take a shower. There is no warm water. You assume all the guests had probably had their turn while you were out. You don’t mind it too much. The cold water wakes you up and you feel refreshed. Soon you are sitting with everyone else making plans for the day, but unlike everyone else at the table you are scarfing down pancake after pancake, hardly chewing between each swallow. The conversation dies down as everyone starts to look your way. You’d be embarrassed at your table manners but honestly you’re too famished to care. 

“Woah, slow your roll there, Y/N. Where was this energy on our hike?” You hear Nat’s voice come up behind you. You don’t bother looking at her, showing her the middle finger behind your back so the kids won’t see. She chuckles as she sits on the empty seat beside you. 

“You might be faster than me,” Pietro comments.

“You know it’s not gentleman-like commenting on the way a woman eats,” you answer, mouth full and all. 

“It’s also not lady-like to speak with your mouth full of food,” Laura reprimands you.

“Cooper doesn’t care. Right, Cooper?” you turn to the kid in question still chewing on your food.

He answers you with a mouth full of food as well, “Right!”

Your cousin sighs as you reach over to give Cooper a fist bump. Wanda laughs at the interaction from beside Cooper. You give her a quick wink before settling back in your seat. She just rolls her eyes.

They all go back to their conversation and you go back to eating your delicious pancakes in peace. Once you are satisfied, you sink back in your chair letting out a happy sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want another one? You hardly ate anything, Y/N,” Nat sarcastically says.

You roll your eyes in good nature. “Honestly, I do want another one but my stomach might explode. I’m going to be dreaming of these pancakes tonight. I’d wed whoever made these bad boys but sorry, cousin,” you turn to Laura, “you’ve got a husband and kids, and I just can’t tear a family apart.”

“Also, she’s your cousin,” Nat emphasizes.

“Obviously that was implied, Natasha,” you say her full name obnoxiously.

“I’d love to take all the credit, but Wanda actually made breakfast. So if you’re marrying anyone for the pancakes, it’s Wanda,” Laura says. 

“You hear that, Wanda? I’m going to make an honest woman out of you.” You wiggled your eyebrows her way.

“If anything, it’s the other way around, Y/N,” your cousin teases.

“Don’t egg Y/N on, Laura,” Clint quips.

“But then who is going to make me pancakes like these, Barton?” You pout.

“I can,” Pietro pipes up. “I’ll even bring them to you for breakfast in bed.” He winks as Nat and Clint wrinkle their noses in distaste and Wanda stifles a laugh.

“What?” Pietro asks his sister.

“Pietro, you can’t boil an egg.”

“Yes, I can. I can make many things. I even helped you with this breakfast,” Pietro insists.

Everyone watches the siblings squabble in amusement, especially when Wanda turns to you to stage whisper, “He burnt two pancakes.”

“I did not!”

“Ask Peter. He had one,” Wanda says in turn. Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“It was a little crunchy,” Peter says after much hesitation. Sam pats his shoulder, shaking his head. “Poor kid. No one should have to eat crunchy pancakes.”

After breakfast the kids decide they want to play basketball with the hoop Clint had placed over the barn doors. You break into teams of 3. It’s you, Lila, and Peter versus Sam, Cooper, and Pietro. Nat and Wanda sit on the sidelines watching and cheering. Your team is not doing so great. If it wasn’t for Peter pulling the team, you would cry in embarrassment. The guys on the opposing team start to get cocky. Sam rubbing the score in your team’s face, Cooper repeating whatever Sam says, and Pietro begins making flirty remarks about teaching you one on one and so on. You want to ignore his remarks but you kind of also want to wipe the smirk off his face. You do just that a few minutes later when you finally make a shot after Peter screens him allowing you to shoot. You look to see if Wanda saw but frown when you notice she’s not there anymore. You play for a few more minutes but you are quickly getting tired.

Laura comes up beside Nat and yells over to you, “Y/N, I need you to run to the store for me.”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief as you go over to your cousin and take the list she holds out to you. “Nat, sub me in?”

“Gladly.” She walks confidently over to take your place. You hear Sam and Pietro whine behind you when they realize Nat is playing in your place.

You chuckle as you read the list. “Are we having hamburgers tonight?”

“Gosh, you really were not paying attention while eating those pancakes. Clint wants to grill tonight.”

“Can you blame me? I’m getting that pancake recipe,” you say with complete determination. “Speaking of, have you seen Wanda?”

“Y/N.” Your cousin gives you a look.

“What?” You say innocently, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Clint told me about that little talk he and Nat had with you.”

“So, what now? I can’t be her friend?” you scoff.

“Friend. Mhmm, sure,” she laughs in disbelief and shakes her head. Why does no one in this damn house believe you?

“Mhmm,” you repeat as you are walking back to the house.

“Check the guest room,” Laura says last minute. Well, at least your cousin’s got your back. You give her a thumbs up in thanks.

Sure enough, Wanda is in the guest bedroom. She’s sitting in bed with a book in her hand. You softly knock on the door. She looks up, notices it’s you, frowns, and goes back to reading. You tilt your head wondering what has her in a mood. Is she back to thinking about her ex? Maybe you can help distract her as a good friend would do.

You walk over to the bed before deciding to sit in front of her cross-legged, elbows on knees, chin on the palm of one hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“A book. Ever heard of one?” she replies without bothering to look up.

Sheesh. “Oh, my god. Is it real? Can I, like, touch it? I’ve always heard about books but I’ve never seen one in person,” you say sarcastically, hoping to get some positive reaction from her. You see a slight upturn on the corner of her lips before it disappears. Though it was miniscule, it was a step forward no less. You sit there for a minute staring at her and thinking of how to proceed. You don’t want to worsen her mood with one of your dumb jokes.

Wanda can feel your eyes searching for some kind of sign from her. She gives up trying to read her book, having been repeating the same paragraph over and over again. She puts the book down and huffs. “Can I help you?” 

“Actually, you can,” you say. “I’m going into town to get some stuff for the hamburgers and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Maybe you are simply confusing Wanda’s boredom for an unpleasant attitude. 

“Didn’t you ask Piet? There’s no way he refused going with you.”

 Or not. 

Her sardonic tone is not lost on you. So, it’s about the brother and not the ex. You want to scream. This is why you have the twin rule. Though you want to bang your head on a wall for not listening to your own rules, you keep your composure as you stand to leave the room. Before you go, you tell Wanda, “I haven’t asked Pietro. I thought of you first, but if you’re not feeling it, I’m sure he would say yes like you say.”

You turn and head out to the hallway dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear Wanda stop you. “Wait! Let me put on my shoes.”

You wait for her in the hallway, smiling to yourself in part because you would not have to spend hours with Pietro’s constant advances but mostly because you got to spend time with Wanda without supervision. You are a grown ass adult, eh, not really, but legally you were an adult. You don’t need to be supervised. It’s not like you needed someone to watch you else you throw yourself at Wanda. Sure, you like to tease here and there but it’s not bothersome. Is it? Oh, god, were you annoying Wanda?

Those thoughts are quickly dispelled when Wanda meets you with a smile. “Ready.”

No, Wanda wouldn’t have agreed to go with you if you were really a bother. You’re sure of it.

It’s a 20 minute ride into town. With Wanda’s mood having done a full 180, you find yourself enjoying your time with her as she recounts a slight hiccup on Steve’s behalf on a mission. Soon enough you are driving up the main street looking for a parking spot. Luckily you find a spot not too far from the store. You head inside and grab a cart. You and Wanda wander around the aisles looking for what you need. Wanda takes over cart duty when you keep bumping into things because you’re distracted with either looking over the list or looking over at her. You say a quick hello to a few people you recognize.

“Well aren’t you popular,” Wanda comments as you both turn into the frozen food aisle to look for hamburger patties. 

“Yeah, that’s not always a good thing,” you say when you spot a woman you know in the same aisle. You move to walk real close behind Wanda, trying to hide your face. 

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks when she feels your forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

“Shhh, just keep walking,” you command without any explanation. Your really sad attempt at hiding was all for naught when you hear your name.

“Y/N? Is that you?” 

You take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile, and leave Wanda’s space. “Hi, Mrs. Townsend. How’s it going?”

“I thought that was you. You can’t hide from me, you know. Not that you were ever any good at it,” she says knowingly. You cringe at the memory of her finding you in her daughter’s closet. This woman disliked you from start to finish, which made sense given that her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend for you only for you to break things off a few weeks later.

“Yeah, I know,” you smile sheepishly. She looks over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks curious but not in the best way.  “And who is this?”

Wanda introduces herself with a polite smile. “Hello, I’m Wanda. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mrs. Townsend asks.

“No, I guess I just have that face,” Wanda responds with no hesitation having practiced that line so many times on missions. Mrs. Townsend’s stare weighs heavy and Wanda begins to feel uncomfortable.

“A very pretty one at that. Y/N sure knows how to pick them. Is that an accent I hear? Where are you from, dear?” Mrs. Townsend asks, with faux intrigue. Now you’re uncomfortable too. 

You know you shouldn’t speak for Wanda but you don’t want to subject her to be in this woman’s presence any longer. “Actually, she’s just a friend visiting from New York. She and a few others are staying with Laura. And actually, she’s expecting us to return soon. So, have a good day, Mrs. Townsend. Come on, Wanda. Let’s go.”

You lead Wanda away by pulling the cart behind you. When you’re nearly clear of the aisle, Wanda stops and reminds you that you never got the patties. You tell her to go ahead and get in line to pay while you go back for the patties, them being the last thing to get from the list. Mrs. Townsend is still in the aisle now talking on the phone very displeased. “Yes, she was right here and with another girl-” she cuts herself off when you’re in her vision reaching to get what you need. 

You give her a sarcastic smile. As you pass by her for the last time, you smirk and lean in to say, “Tell Abby I say hi.” Then you wink, leaving Mrs. Townsend very angry, and head over to the checkout area where Wanda is waiting. Wanda doesn’t say anything other than “Well, she was lovely” to which you laughed. Apart from that, she stays quiet at the checkout and as you put the items in the car. Before she has a chance to open the door to get in the passenger seat, you stand in front of the door blocking the handle. 

“Hey,” you begin, but Wanda is looking at her shoes, her hands fiddling with the rings on her fingers. You take her hand to shake her arm in an attempt to get her to look up. “Look at me.” 

You wish you hadn’t asked that of her because when she does look at you, it tears you apart. If you did not think your presence was needed more here, you could storm right back into that store and give Mrs. Townsend a piece of your mind. 

“Mrs. Townsend is an asshole. You should never take what an asshole says to heart cause it’s all shit,” you say in all seriousness. Wanda giggles and raises her free hand to rub her face. You pull it away from her face. Holding both her hands you continue, “She’s just a grumpy lady holding a grudge over something I did like two years ago. It’s nothing to do with you and all to do with me. So don’t listen to anything she says, okay?”

It takes a moment but she finally nods. “There we are.” You pull her into a hug, one she accepts easily, hoping to give further comfort. You can’t help but think how nice it is to hold her, moreso, when she hugs you tighter. 

“So, she was lying when she said I was pretty?” Wanda tries to joke, adopting your method of lightening the mood.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. She quickly pulls back from your hold but you don’t let her go too far, holding onto her elbows. “Cause you are breathtakingly gorgeous,” you finish.

She smiles and a blush takes over her face. You decide to add, “In fact, I can’t even breathe right now standing so close to your beauty.” You dramatically gasp for air making Wanda laugh and smack you. 

“Ow, if this is how you Avenger women treat your adoring fans, I’d hate to see how you take down the bad guys.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan?” Wanda asks adorning a sly smile.

“Mhmm, since day one.”

“Is that so? Because from what I remember you called me Crimson Witch just yesterday,” she teases you.

“And I stand by what I said,” you respond. You cut her off when she opens her mouth to argue. “But if I have offended you, let me make it up to you.”

She narrows her eyes, looking at you skeptically as if you were up to no good making you want to laugh. “How?” She asks warily.

You lean into her space once more to say, “I know a place.” You wink and without allowing her to respond, you take her hand dragging her along behind you. “Come on.” 

Your destination is just two blocks away. Wanda speeds up to walk beside you but she never lets your hand go. Not that you mind it in the least. You stop her when you arrive and reluctantly let her hand go to make a grandiose gesture with your arms. “Ta-Da!”

“An ice-cream shop?” she asks you, clearly unimpressed.

“Not just any ice-cream shop. The Ice Cream Shop!” You can’t help but say enthusiastically. Wanda on the other hand does not look enthused. You can’t believe she’s not excited for ice cream. “Oh, come on, Wanda. Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream. The only excuse I’ll take is that you’re lactose intolerant or vegan. Just don’t tell me you prefer frozen yogurt. Oh, god. You do, don’t you?” You gasp dramatically, your hand clutching your chest. 

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in a light hearted manner at your antics. “You’ve made your point. Just open the door.”

“Bossy,” you laugh, but do as she wishes though you make a show out of opening the door. You bow and motion for her to enter as you hold the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

She sighs. Passing through the door, she mumbles, “I could be in bed reading right now.”

“Ah, but then you would’ve missed the opportunity to hang out with someone as cool as me,” you say as you and Wanda go to stand behind the group of teenage girls ordering their ice cream.

“Oh, are they meeting us after? Do you think they’ll buy me frozen yogurt?” she retorts, amusement shining through her eyes. You generally find quick witted remarks annoying. Mostly because you’ve always been surrounded by smart-alecks all your life. Your cousin is one. Then she married one who had one as a best friend. Somehow, you find the same quality in Wanda kind of attractive. Oh god. This can’t be happening.

“Quit being so grumpy. You’re gonna thank me when you try it. It’s only the best there is.”

“You should listen to her, but hey, I may be a little biased,” the woman working at the counter backs you up. The teenage girls are long gone.

“Thank you, Tanya,” you reply, stepping forward to the middle aged woman you know to be the owner of the shop. She was actually the one to give you your first job at this very same ice cream shop. Maybe you were also a little biased. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in town so early, Y/N.”

“Well, I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to get here,” you explain.

“Uh, huh. I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice is full of disbelief. You laugh.

“Actually, I got here yesterday. I wanted to come earlier to help out Laura now that she’s phwwt,” you whistle and make a belly bump gesture like it’s a scandalous secret.

“She’s married and this is baby number three, Y/N. You can say pregnant,” your old boss laughs.

“But that’s no fun,” you pout.

“And who is this little thing?” She turns to Wanda, who timidly smiles still two steps behind you.

“Come on, I don’t bite, hun.” Tanya gives her a sincere smile, one much different from Mrs. Townsend’s. Wanda slowly approaches after you wave her over encouragingly. When she is close enough, you hold her forearm to introduce her to Tanya, trying to ease her nerves. It seems to work. You feel her relax and lean into your side as she says, “Hi, I’m Wanda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you dear. I’m Tanya. See, no need to be shy.”

“She’s not usually like this as far as I can tell. She’s actually quite chatty. Sometimes I don’t know how to get her to stop talking,” you joke. Wanda scoffs and bumps your hip with hers.

“Whenever Y/N begins to annoy you, just put on some earphones and hide them with your hair. It works wonders. She can talk to herself for hours,” your old boss advises Wanda.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Hey!” You interject. “Tanya, where is your loyalty? So quick to team up against me.”

Wanda giggles beside you. You turn your head to playfully glare at her, missing the way Tanya smiles at the interaction in front of her. 

“So how’d you two meet? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before, Wanda.”

“She’s a friend and um, coworker of Clint and Natasha. She’s here for the week.” You hope Tanya didn’t catch your little hiccup there. However, you miss the implication of her question. Tanya tries to remember who Nat is.

“Natasha. Is she the intimidating red head always wearing tight jeans?” You and Wanda laugh. You affirm with a finger to your nose. “Didn’t you date her sister?”

You let go of Wanda’s arm to throw your head into your hands. “Ugh, how could you possibly know that?”

“Small town. Word gets around fast. People are probably already talking about you two, especially when you’ve got someone as beautiful as Wanda with you.”

Wanda blushes at the insinuation. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you tell Tanya. 

Tanya raises an eyebrow, “You mean, you’re not dating?”

“Please, Wanda here is way out of my league. I mean, funny, polite, pleasant, and gorgeous. Maybe even a little pretentious. I caught her reading a book… for fun. Who does that? Ow!” Wanda smacks your arm and Tanya laughs. “Did I mention violent?”

The bell above the entrance door chimes informing you three that other customers are coming in. “Okay, so what can I get you?” Tanya asks, moving this along.

“I’d like two scoops of rainbow sherbert on a cone, please.”

“And for you, hun?” Tanya asks Wanda after handing you your cone. 

“Um, may I have two scoops of strawberry, please?”

“Of course, you’d get red,” you taunt.

“Here you are.” Tanya hands Wanda her cone. You take out a ten dollar bill from your pocket to pay but Tanya won’t have it. “My treat, ladies.” 

“But this is sort of an apology cone I promised Wanda,” you try again.

“Y/N! Apologizing with a three dollar ice cream cone is not a real apology. You can do better.”

“It’s like you read my mind, Tanya,” Wanda says. You want to laugh at the irony.

“It wasn’t for anything serious,” you try to argue.

“Whatever it was, you can treat her to something nicer,” Tanya reprimands you.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“The fair is in town. Take her to that. Now shoo, I’ve got customers waiting. Nice meeting you, Wanda,” she says.

“You too. Thanks.”

You exit first, holding the door open for Wanda without thinking about it. She smiles and loops her arm through yours as you both head back to the car at a leisurely pace. You look to see if Wanda likes her ice cream. There is no doubt about it as she begins to hum in happiness. You want to say something like “ I told you so” but she warns you before you have the chance to open your mouth. “Don’t.”

You smirk and turn to your ice cream. You try to savour it, but you demolish that ice cream. You pout when you see it all gone. Wanda still has half of hers.

“Quit being so grumpy,” she says, throwing your words from earlier back at your face. “Here, you can have some of mine.”

She lifts her cone to your mouth. You happily go to take a bite when Wanda shoves the rest of her cone in your face. It wasn’t much but you can smell the damn strawberry ice cream as it drips from your nose. You’re too shocked to move for a minute. She laughs as you try to process what just happened. You hear the shutter noise of a camera. You see Wanda holding her phone up. That snaps you out of your daze. Wanda takes off running the second she sees the look that settles on your face. She doesn’t have to be a telepath to know what that look means. You chase after her. 

She gets to the car before you but can’t open the door. She turns around, hands out in front of her body which is shaking from nervous laughter. “Wait, Y/N. I’m sor-”

You pull her into a hug and shove your ice cream riddled nose to her neck smearing the strawberry flavored dessert on her. “Stop, okay. I’m sorry. Stop, that tickles!” She bursts out laughing. You take pity and let her go, but your feet stay planted where they are. You both quickly sober up when you see how close you are. You feel the tension from yesterday return. You know what you want to do but you know you shouldn’t. Wanda is not making it easy looking at you the same way. Before either of you make a decision, your phone rings ruining whatever that was. You awkwardly clear your throat and back away. You give Wanda a smile before reaching for your phone. You answer it without looking at the name of whoever is calling. It’s Laura asking if you are on your way. You tell her you’ll be there soon. 

You unlock the car and open the passenger door for Wanda. She gives you a quiet thanks. The drive to the house is awkward to say the least, a total contrast to the ride into town. The music in the background does nothing to alleviate your discomfort. In fact, you think it might have made it worse. 

You let out a little sigh of relief once the barn enters your line of sight. Wanda on the other hand can’t take it anymore. She turns off the radio and turns to you expectantly. You take a deep breath knowing what was coming. Having a feeling this conversation could get loud, you slow down the car to a stop before you could pull up to the barn. You’d rather not let anyone overhear knowing how nosy they all are.

“What was that back there?”

“You started it, shoving the ice cream in my face.” You play naive.

“Don’t do that.”

You don’t know why you thought you could get away with lying to her when you know she can literally read minds.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to. I did. I do.”

“Well, I do too,” Wanda says.

“You do?” you ask. You don’t know why you sound so shocked. You had a gut feeling already, but it surprises you hearing her say it aloud anyway.

“You know I do. So what’s the problem?”

The problem is you can’t. The problem is you promised Nat, Clint, and yourself you wouldn’t. The problem is what Nat said at dinner struck a chord with you. Sure she could have been a little nicer about it and maybe not say it in front of everybody, but she was right nonetheless. The problem is your habit of touch and go, the one you never wanted to admit you had, only hurts people. You are the problem and you‘ve decided to fix it, starting with Wanda. You won’t allow yourself the chance to break Wanda’s heart. You don’t think she deserves that.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Neither does Nat. Neither does Clint. I get to make that decision for myself. If I put it all on the line and end up heartbroken, then that’s on me. I make that choice.”

You nod, “You’re right. That is your choice and I can respect that. But it’s also my choice to decide I can’t be the one to break your heart. Can you respect that?”

A heavy silence settles in the car, but you have said all you needed to say so you wait for Wanda to respond. When she realizes your mind is set, she nods. After another minute of silence, she asks, “What now, then?”

“Cliché, but friends?” you suggest. When Wanda scoffs in disbelief, you have to ask, “What?”

“You and me?” Wanda asks as if for clarification.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in the car. Yes, Wanda. You and me.”

“Have you ever been just friends with anyone before?” Wanda asks, placing no kind of faith in your ability to maintain platonic relationships.

“Are you asking if I can keep it in my pants? Not to bruise your ego, but I can be in a room with you without wanting to jump your bones, Maximoff. I have plenty of strictly platonic friends. Like... Nat.”

She laughs at the choice you made for an example. “That’s only because Natasha doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“So, what you’re saying is this friendship won’t work because you can’t keep it in your pants?” you counter and watch with amusement Wanda’s face flush and her try to defend herself.

“N-no,” she stutters weakly.

“Great,” you say cheerily. “It’s settled then. We can be friends.”

“There are rules though,” Wanda warns you as you start driving toward the house again.

“Already? Had I known this friendship came with terms and conditions, I might have never suggested it. Fine, lay them on me.”

“No more flirting with my brother.”

“I have never flirted with your-” you start to deny, but when she gives you a knowing look you quickly agree. “Okay, but if he’s putting in all the work, who am I to keep him from living out his dreams?” You jest. She punches your arm.

“Alright, new rule! No more hitting me.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You were beginning to see the rules to this friendship were not going to be in your favor.

_____________________________________________________________________

So, I lied when I said this was going to be most likely 5 chapters. It turns out I really like dialogue. I'm hoping max is 8 chapters.

Your assignment in preparation for the next chapter: pick a nice outfit cause you're going to the county fair.

Extra Credit: Name the county. (I'm prob going to pick one from the comments)

taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemessis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

[hime-memes]

      • ASoUE: The Bad Beginning™ - Sentence Starters • ( Part 3 )

These starters have been taken directly from Lemony Snicket’s, “ The Bad Beginning “ Book. This is a pretty long list of starters spanning the final chapters 11 - 13.  

As always: feel free to change anything within these starters that you see fit to make it work for your muse & the receiver’s muse ! ** Any slight wording changes made to the original text is to accommodate for RP purposes.

Trigger Warnings For: Parental Death, Child Endangerment/Child Neglect & Child Abuse.

“ How pleasant you could join us. “  “ I was just thinking how much I wanted to see your pretty face. Have a seat. “  “ I SAID HAVE A SEAT ! “  “ Your blushing bride just tried to climb up here to try and rescue the biting brat. “  “ It was a grappling hook. I made it myself. “  “  ( Name ) is very displeased with their bride/groom. “  “ I’m not their bride/groom. “  “ No monkey business you two. Or, I will have to tie you up and let you dangle out of the window as well. “ ��� What’s happened ? Why are we up here ? “  “ I tried to rescue ( Name ). “  “ It’s so high up, you must have been terrified. “  “ I’m sorry your invention didn’t work - “  “ My invention worked fine - I just got caught. “  “ Why don’t you go through those book and papers ? Perhaps there’s some information that could be of some use. “  “ If we had any kerosene, I could make molotov cocktails with these bottles. “  “ What are molotov cocktails ? “ “ They’re small bombs made inside bottles. “  “ We could break these bottles in half, and use them as knives, but i’m afraid that ( Name ) would overpower us. “  “ You could say ‘ I don’t ‘ instead of ‘ I do ‘. “  “ If anything goes wrong during tonight’s performance, your sister will be dropped to her death. Come along, now. “  “ Intermission is only 10 minutes. “  “ Get them into costumes quickly ! “  “ You know what would be fun, is if you changed your lines around just a little. “  “ Be creative. There’s no reason to stick to the legal ceremony. It’s not as if it’s a real wedding. “  “ Please report to the make up artist ! “  “ Oh my word ! I get to wear make up ?! “  “ What can we do ? Pretend to be sick ? “  “ ( Name ) would know what we were up to. “  “ I wish we could break a leg. “  “ And now, ladies and gentlemen - I have an announcement ! “  “ I think if you look at it closely you will see it is an official document from city hall. “  “ This is dreadful nonsense ! “ “ I’m afraid this dreadful nonsense is the law ... “ “ I can’t believe how easily I was tricked, I would never do anything to arm you ( Name ). Never. “  “ You were easily tricked ! “  “ She’s all tied up at the moment, if you’ll pardon a little joke. “  “ Hello ? Yes, of course it’s me, you idiot ! “  “ Are you satisfied now ? “ “ Don’t think you’re safe. “  “ Well, I’m not satisfied at all, this is absolutely horrendous. This is completely monstrous. This is financially dreadful. “  “ I’m afraid, however, that is legally binding. “  “ I won’t allow it, I absolutely will  not allow it. “  “ Begging your pardon, but I think you may be wrong. “  “ What did you say countess ? “  “ I’m not your countess ! At least, I don’t think I am. “ I did not sign the document in my own hand as the law states. “  “ Like most people - I am right handed. I signed the document with my left hand. “  “ A small detail like which hand you used to sign, doesn’t matter in the least. “  “ A town not far from where you live has a law that bars me from coming within five miles of its borders. “  “ Somebody bring her something to eat, she must be very hungry after hanging in a tower window all that time. “  “ Do you honestly think that I will allow you to care for ( Name ) after the treacheryI have seen here tonight ? “  “ When I have it, I’ll kill you and your siblings with my own two hands. “  “ We can worry about this in the morning, when I’ve fixed you breakfast. “  “ He/She must respect your parents wishes. Don’t you want to do what your parents wanted ? “  “ I will miss you too. “  

#sentence starters #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #series of unfortunate events

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 6)

Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.

Last Chapter! (I combined the last chapter and the epilogue cuz they are not too long.)

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: food mention, mention of divorce, people pretending to choke, proposal.

Word Count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: photos used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Pride and Prejudice Series Masterlist

Fred walked downstairs, noticing a faint smell of apples in the joke shop. “So are we selling apple juice now, Georgie?” he joked.

But George looked confused, “What apple juice? I could only smell caramel-” And then the answer finally came to George, “Amortentia!”

Fred followed George to the shelf displaying amortentia and immediately realized a firecracker just exploded next to this shelf, causing at least four bottles of amortentia to break and the love potion inside to spill.

George waved his wand and cleaned up the mess, but a satisfied smirk soon appeared on George’s lips, “Strange. Didn’t know you liked apples this much.”

“Shut up and go back to work!” Fred raised his voice, covering for the fact that he’s a complete mess now. 

That fainting smell of apple that’s still lingering in the shop also had a dash of the scent of book pages in it. And this combination could only remind Fred of one person. 

You.

The person whom he married out of a dare. The person who he fell in love with during the process. The person who just walked out of his life.

George noticed the change in Fred’s expression. How defeat was now written all over his face. “Mate, you need to do something. You can’t just let her walk away like that.”

“What can I do?” Fred sighed, “Maybe she’s been waiting for this all the time.”

George sighed with Fred. This wasn’t like his brother. Soon the lingering smell of amortentia caught his attention, and a brilliant idea popped into George’s mind. “She has feelings for you too, and I can prove it to you!”

~

You pushed open the door of the joke shop. George just called you claiming that there’s an emergency, so you rushed to the joke shop immediately after work.

George approached you with a small glass vial, “Y/N, this is the new perfume I just made. I need your opinion.”

So this is the emergency??

You looked at George, couldn’t decipher what his smile meant. But you did know one thing. In fact, everyone who went to school with the twins should know the rule: be careful of what they handed to you. So you stepped away from that vial and asked with caution, “When did the joke shop start selling perfume?”

“Oh, we are always trying to expand our business,” George noticed how you became alert, so he added, “I swear to Merlin, this is not a prank!”

Still finding his smile suspicious, but for Merlin’s sake, you still decided to take the vial.

“Does it smell good? What does it smell like?” George asked carefully.

“Hmm...” The perfume did smell very good. You could smell the sweetness of cinnamon, a dash of gunpowder, but it also smelled so familiar. It smelled like...Fred’s cologne? “George, I’m pretty sure someone else has already made a perfume like this.”

“Really? How so?” George felt his heart beating at his throat, so scared that you might say another person’s name.

“Isn’t this just Fred’s cologne?” You were finding this unbelievable. How could George not recognize his own twin’s cologne?

“Oh really!!” Hearing a definitive answer from you has made George so happy that he pulled you into a hug. “Got it! Thank you for your opinion! You’re the best!”

“You’re welcome...?” Watching George being so happy that he could start dancing at any minute, you were beginning to think that the chemicals in the perfume were toxic. How could making a plagiarized perfume make a man so happy?

~

Two days later, you apparated to the joke shop again. It was raining outside. Maybe the weather was trying to set the tone for what was about to happen next. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of the twins’ apartment, the apartment that you called home for the past year.

Fred opened the door, letting you in without saying a word. You tried not to look at him so you could appear indifferent and won’t be affected by his expressions.

“Here’s the divorce document,” you said as you took out all the paper in your bag. He took the documents and flipped through the papers quickly, still not saying anything at all.

You couldn’t tell if his silence meant he’s also not ready to say goodbye or he just had nothing to say to you. But you tried not to overthink as you continued, “Oh, before you sign it, you still have one wish left. What do you want me to do?”

“What if I said,” he finally looked at you, his eyes capturing yours, “I don’t want you to go?”

His words were like a drum in your ears, rendered you speechless. Before you could fully process what he just said, Fred continued, “It might sound crazy, but for the past few days, I realized I just couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.  I know I’ve lived 20 years without you perfectly fine, but now that I’ve had you in my life, I don’t ever want to live without you again. I know I could be insensitive sometimes, and I probably did something stupid that made you mad in the past year, but I’m willing to change if you tell me to.”

“All I’m trying to say is,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Please allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And please don’t divorce me.“

You finally let out a soft laugh. That’s Mr. Darcy’s line in Pride and Prejudice. You remembered reading this part to him during Christmas, and you couldn’t believe that he actually memorized this line.

Fred panicked when you weren’t talking, “But of course, if you really want to, I wouldn’t stop you. I-“

“You know, you don’t have to use your last wish on this,” you stopped him, “I was going to say yes anyway. But If you insist, that won’t be a problem with me.”

Fred’s eyes widened as he processed your words, “Wait, does that mean-“

You answered his question by pulling him down and pressing a kiss on his lips. He was shocked by your sudden action but soon kissed you back with his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.

So this is what it feels like to kiss him, and it’s so much better than how you’ve imagined it would be. It started a soft kiss but soon became more passionate, as if you were making up for all the time you two spent on being oblivious.

“Should’ve done this earlier.” A smirk appeared on Fred’s lips when you finally pulled away.

“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were still heated.

He chuckled before giving you another soft peck on the lips. His hands were still resting on your waist.

“And you’re still this idiot’s wife.”

～(warning: people pretending to choke, food mention)~

“Y/N, there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you,” the receptionist raised her eyebrows and smiled at you.

“Thanks! I’ll be done in a minute!” You quickly finished the last sentence and looked at Luna from across the table with your puppy eyes.

She chuckled, “Alright, you can leave early today.”

“Thanks, Luna, you’re the best!” You flicked your wand to pack up your bag before running to the door.

“Tell Fred I said hi!” you heard Luna’s voice behind you.

“I will!”

A month after your fake marriage ended, you quit your job at Whizz Hard Books. You didn’t want to work in a place that wouldn’t accept who you really are.

Ginny introduced you to Luna Lovegood and The Quibbler. You immediately fell in love with the whimsical ideas and style of The Quibbler, and Luna gave you a new job as you two hit it off very quickly. So this is where you work now. No need to hide your background and use a fake last name. This place accepted you for who you are.

Fred was at the door, opening his arms when he saw you running to him. “Happy one-year anniversary, darling!”

You giggled as you ran into his arms, “and this time, it’s real.”

“Yep,” he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “ready?”

You nodded, and the next second you two apparated to your favorite restaurant.

The dinner was delicious, and for dessert, Fred ordered your favorite cake. But when you were enjoying the cake, you suddenly felt something hard inside. This was extremely dangerous, for you could’ve swallowed it if you weren’t paying attention. You were just about to complain when you finally realized what it was.

It’s a ring!

You were surprised. Was Fred trying to propose? But last time you checked, you two were still legally a married couple.

But this also seemed like what he would do on your one-year anniversary. You were sure he was waiting to see your surprised face, and an idea soon came to you.

You pretended that you were trying to pick up your spoon because your elbow “accidentally” swept it down on the floor a few seconds ago. When you were sure Fred couldn’t see you, you slid the ring on your finger. Then you got up and took another bite of the cake like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

A few seconds later, you started coughing. Your brows were furrowed as your hands reached for your neck like you just choked on something.

Fred was freaking out, knowing that he’s the reason behind all this, “Darling, are you alright?”

The only response you could produce was a few glottal sounds and you looked like you were almost crying.

Fred ran to you as fast as possible. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do as his brain was in an absolute mess now. The only thing he could manage to do was apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. Baby, I’m so sorry…”

The noise you two were making attracted the other customers’ attention, and you saw a waiter approaching you with his wand, trying to help. You knew it’s probably time to stop this prank.

“Are you talking about this?” You finally stopped acting and waved your left hand in front of him.

Fred’s expression froze, still trying to recover from the terror of accidentally hurting you. After a few moments, he finally realized, “Wait, does that mean…”

“YES!” You chuckled.

Fred’s furrowed brows finally unfolded as a bright smile appeared on his lips. He picked you up and spun you around, “She said YES!”

The crowd around you was clapping and cheering while your husband was cheering himself as well.

You giggled, “Freddie, you know we never went through with the divorce, right? So technically, I’m still your wife.”

“I know, darling, but I figured that I owe you a proper proposal,” he said while pressing multiple soft kisses on your face, “Plus, I just want to make this official. I love you, darling.”

“I love you too,” You smiled as your lips found his again, “I love you most ardently.”

A/N: I can’t believe I really finished this series asdfgfgjk Thank you guys so so much for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking this series. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me❤️

Series Taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild  @rsheridan @ovrwd @anywherebuthere @allaroundaddict @jeminila @secretsofageek @magical-spit @freddieweasleyswife @lilypad-55449 @hufflepuffzutara @honey-honey-5644 @kyloren-peterparker @treblebeth @kyloren-peterparker @fred-sux @rodrickmalfoy @liliputbahn @its-yasbxtch @daydreamgirl8​ @305weasley​ @awritingtree​ @lucymfer​ @bberree​ @malfoy-wife15   @weasleyxmalfoyxstyles  @justfollowtheroad​  @nojamsonmytoast​  @amc723​ 

(If your name is bolded, Tumblr wont let me tag you. And I’m really sorry if I forgot you!)

(General taglist in reblogged post cuz it can’t fit in one post)

#fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley series #fred weasley x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

#tsc #tda #the dark artifices #kit x ty #twp #cw mentions of ableism #cw mentions of abuse #cw minor character death #tiberius nero blackthorn #kit herondale #eleanor blackthorn

[nbrook29]

robbe 1️⃣8️⃣

Warning: This is smutty, proceed with caution if it’s not your jam ;)

ao3

If anybody asked Robbe, bad weather in the summer should be illegal. Because what the hell? He needs sun rays and blue sky like he needs oxygen, he wants 30+ degrees temperatures and not a single cloud above, and he always welcomes it with all the small inconveniences it brings along, like clammy skin mere minutes after showering or freckles covering his nose and arms. So when it’s August and it’s raining, sorry, pouring buckets, sue him if he turns into a whiny mess for a bit. That’s just who he is.

Or, that’s who he was. Because right now, lying on a soft cloud-like throw blanket in a not-his t-shirt and sweatpants, head a mess of wild damp curls, fuzzy socks on his feet tangled with another pair, he’s feeling pretty good.

Even though the original scenario for his birthday was supposed to be different.

It all started at 12:00 am sharp with a dorky text from Sander because of course it did.

Sander: Hey there you sexy thing

Heard you're legal now 👅 

Robbe: Omg sander 🙈 

Sander: Yes, that's what you'll be screaming today during our own little celebration 😈

 Robbe almost spat out the water he was drinking, face burning hot as he tried to assess whether anybody was paying him any attention.

 Robbe: SHSHDHSHSJSJS STOP 

Sander: I'll do that thing you like 😏👅 

Robbe: IM WITH MY PARENTS DICKHEAD 

Sander: Am I bothering you cutie? 😏 

Robbe: Yessssss 😩 my face is all red they're gonna know what's up 

Sander: I think *I* know what is up 😏🍆 

Robbe: 🤣 GO COOL OFF 

Sander: Hehe

No but for real now

Happy birthday! 🥰🥳😘❤🎂

I love you SO much ❤❤❤💯 

Robbe: Thank youuuu baby 😊😘 

Sander: Can't believe you're an adult *wipes a tear*

You'll always be my baby tho ❤ 

Robbe: Haha yes ❤❤ 

Sander: I'll be waiting for you at 4 pm 

Robbe: But where?? 

Sander: 😌 

Robbe: Sanderrr tell me 

Sander: Nope 

Goodnight 😌

 Sander absolutely loves to tease him and keep him at the edge of the seat which is why he told him the place only half an hour before their meeting, for which Robbe intended to tell him off. That is until he actually got to Park Spoor Noord and saw his boyfriend lounging on grass, blanket underneath him, surrounded by Robbe’s favorite food and wearing the most charming smile as soon as their eyes met.

And he got him a sunflower. A sunflower. How cute is that?

Needless to say, there was no telling off, Robbe didn’t exactly find time for it between kisses and laughs and Sander feeding him croques and fries and cupcakes (which Sander baked and decorated himself, swearing for dear life the small thingies made from frosting on top were not dicks, but Robbe knows him too well to believe him).

And then all hell broke loose and the storm that had been loudly talked about in the media came to Antwerp and made a puddle out of the two of them.

They looked really miserable, but somehow Robbe couldn’t care less as they were running to Sander’s house holding hands, water in their shoes, the sunflower cradled carefully underneath his shirt, huge smiles on their faces as they finally got there, tripping in their haste to get inside.

The hot shower that followed next and Sander taking the lead oh so well will definitely rank in the top 5 moments of Robbe’s life. He’s very grateful Sander’s parents are on holiday in London because he’s not sure he’d ever be able to look them in the eyes otherwise.

Afterwards, Sander made them ice coffee and handed Robbe his real gift which turned out to be a long weekend in Paris a week from now, shutting him up with a kiss when Robbe was about to protest and complain about it being too expensive.

Since the concert they were supposed to go to was canceled due to poor weather conditions, they resorted to eating cake in Sander’s bed and watching the show Robbe had been talking about for weeks now. Sander, being the thoughtful and amazing boyfriend that he is, graciously agreed to Robbe’s birthday wish and sat him down between his legs, kissed the side of his face, brought his laptop closer and pressed play, as Robbe made himself comfy in his arms, the smile that originated at midnight not slipping off even for a second.

***

Another thunder strikes the night sky and Robbe jumps involuntarily, only a little, more from shock than actual fear, but it doesn’t stop Sander from tightening his arms around him, lips grazing delicately the lobe of his ear.

“Don’t worry, Robin, I will protect you,” he whispers with a teasing note in his voice, grunting when a well-aimed elbow meets his side.

“Shut up, I’m not scared.”

Sander’s only reply is a low chuckle and a kiss on that sweet spot under Robbe’s ear that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. Without barely having to move at all considering how close they are, he tilts his head and noses along Sander’s defined jaw, leaving a peck or two on his cheek.

“Now shush, I can’t focus.” He unceremoniously turns away from Sander’s searching lips, a sly grin on his face when he hears an affronted huff.

“Oh I see how it is, you-”

“Shhhh, Wille is talking.”

Robbe loves to be a little shit sometimes, especially if he wants to get a certain reaction from his huffy other half.

“Look how cute he is.” He has to press his lips hard to keep the giggle in when Sander whines in protest.

“Stoooop, why are you being mean to me.” He now has a full-blown pout on his face. “Jerk.”

The laughter finally comes out and Robbe pauses the show, cooing at Sander’s little frowny face and brushing the runaway strands away from his forehead, leaning up to press a kiss there too.

“It’s okay, I still think you’re the cutest prince in the entire kingdom.” He runs a thumb over his jutting lower lip, kissing it once, twice, three times, until the corners of Sander’s mouth pull up.

“Whatever. Simon is cuter than the other one anyway.”

Robbe grins cheekily. “You just think that because he has curly hair like me.” Sander’s jaw drops at that.

“Wow,” he exclaims, voice faux-scandalous as he shakes his head at Robbe. “Someone’s cocky today.” 

“It’s my birthday so it’s allowed.” Winking at him obnoxiously, he turns back to the screen, hands reaching for Sander’s arms to wrap them around himself again as he settles in his embrace with a content sigh before pressing play.

Sander’s quiet behind him for a second, and then his lips touch his ear again, tongue slightly peeking out to play and lick the shell of his ear with just the tip, hot air hitting Robbe’s skin turning his insides into mush, butchering his focus again just as Sander purrs, “I think it’s hot when you’re like that.”

There’s something important happening on screen, but Robbe can’t make any sense of the subtitles because Sander’s lips continue their path down the column of his throat, stopping for a second to suck a kiss in the middle, killing any rational thought Robbe might have had. His hand rushes to Sander’s head to keep him there without his permission, eyes closing as he sighs when the kiss turns into licks and nips to the thin skin.

“Do you think he could kiss you and touch you like that?”

The question breaks the fog in Robbe’s brain for a second, and he barks a laugh at the slight possessiveness in Sander’s voice that’s poorly hidden under a joking tone. 

“Like what?” He presses, excitement bubbling in his stomach when one of Sander’s hands sneaks underneath his t-shirt, fingers grazing the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake as they finally reach the place Robbe needs them most. 

“Like that.” He flicks his nipple with those black-polish covered nails of his that make him look so hot Robbe’s head spins. “For starters.” He keeps it up, tugging and pinching unhurriedly, with a dirty smirk growing on his face that Robbe can just feel on his collarbone, and he pulls on his hair as he arches his back a little, seeking more of those skillful fingers.

With his hooded eyes, he can see Sander closing the laptop and putting it away quickly before his other hand joins in the fun, a featherlight touch to the growing bulge in his sweatpants, nothing more than teasing for now.

When Sander’s teeth tug at his earring, Robbe lets out a frustrated whine because it’s too much and not enough at the same time, and his boyfriend reads him like a book because he pulls the t-shirt off him to gain full access, mouth latching on his neglected nipple just as his hand dives inside his pants. It doesn’t grant him any relief though, bypassing his dick completely and traveling lower, caressing the soft skin, one finger running back and forth without reaching any further, and Robbe grabs Sander’s thigh in desperation.

“Sander...”

“You didn’t answer me,” Sander whispers in a sweet sweet voice.

“Whaa?” It takes a second for Robbe to understand what he’s asking and he would laugh if his body wasn’t on fire, Sander playing him like a violin.

Also, this playful possessiveness is getting to him, whether he likes it or not.

He does though. Like it.

Oh fuck, he likes it so much.

“Tell me, baby,” Sander breathes into his mouth as he reaches for something Robbe doesn’t see, and he can hear in his voice how it affects him too, can feel him against his lower back, rubbing himself off with minuscule moves, clearly struggling to hold back. 

“You, just you-, fuuuuck,” Robbe’s cut off when two lubed fingers press inside him at the confession, back arching slightly, the feeling so intense he keens and searches blindly for Sander’s lips. Thankfully, Sander doesn’t waste any time and plunges his tongue inside his mouth, swallowing the little whines that escape them with each twist of his fingers.

The rocking behind him gets faster and this is not how Robbe wants this to end so he breaks the kiss, ignoring Sander’s protests as he pulls away from him, only to pull his pants off completely, green eyes following his every move like he’s ready to pounce, and the need inside Robbe’s stomach only grows. He tugs impatiently at Sander’s sweatpants, biting his lip when his hard cock slaps his abdomen, the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips at his reaction liquefying his insides and he crawls closer to him, needing his touch to ground him. 

“You’re still good to go?” He loves how even when it’s hot and heavy Sander still remembers to check in with him.

“Uh-huh,” is the only thing he can come up with now, especially when Sander’s hand settles on his hip bringing them so close there’s no space left between them, guiding his movements just like Robbe likes. He kisses his glistening neck, licking the sweat of his body as Robbe reaches behind to position his slick cock at his entrance, forehead resting against Sander’s as he sinks down fast.

He gasps at the feeling of fullness because it’s always a lot, but Sander’s hands are always there, brushing his sides in a comforting motion, even when his own body is probably screaming at him to move.

“Happy birthday to me,” Robbe lets out a shaky chuckle that ends up in a gasp when Sander laughs too and involuntarily moves inside him. He’s quick to lick into his lips and distract him from the momentary discomfort, and once he’s done with him, the overwhelming need is back double force. 

Sander notices right away, guiding Robbe’s hips to keep grinding for a while before planting his feet on the bed and holding them in place giving several hard jabs that make Robbe hide his face in his neck, cries leaving his mouth with each thrust.

“Like that?”

Robbe just nods helplessly, mouth leaving a wet trail on his skin, but Sander doesn’t seem to mind because he continues his pace, completely taking over once Robbe’s thighs give out and turning him into a mess.

“You’re so hot like this, fuck.” The strain in Sander’s voice tells him he’s getting close so he goes back to bouncing, meeting him in the middle, and it only takes a minute for things to become too much, Sander’s uncoordinated jerks when he’s coming triggering Robbe’s orgasm too.

They stay like that, cooling off while kissing lazily, tongues sliding against each other, but without a rush for now.

Sander pulls back first, their lips smacking when they disconnect. "I'm sorry today didn't work out." Scrunching up his face, he reaches to comb through Robbe's hair consolingly. He leans into the touch before cuddling even closer, seeking warmth when the cold air makes goosebumps appear on his heated skin.

"But I loved today, really. We can go to a concert another time." He kisses the underside of his jaw, sighing dreamily. "And I can't wait for Paris with you."

#wtfock #not my best work in a long shot #im sorry robbe :( #you deserve better

[jaskierswolf]

Hmmm Geraskier Legally Blonde AU. Music major Jaskier follows his long-time muse Chiridean to law school (what, like it’s hard?) but finds him smitten with all-star student Yennefer. Cue Jaskier needing the broody TA, Geralt’s help in not flunking out. Jaskier ends up rocking the high-profile case of Callonetta, even after evil law professor Stregobor attempts to toss him out. (I also needed an excuse to put Jaskier in a playboy bunny outfit. For reasons.)

I am so so sorry this took so long. I almost made it into a longer piece and honestly I may still use the scenes in this to expand into a longer fic on AO3 if I have time but for now...  voila! _____________

Jaskier was tearing his hair out. There was no way he would be able to get the grades he needed to get into law school. He was a musician for fuck’s sake. There were so many words and they were all so boring. The paragraphs blended together and blurred making it nearly impossible to focus. He groaned and thumped his head on the table. He could do this. He wanted to do this. He had just hit a wall. He’d been concentrating so hard for weeks, which was, quite frankly, impressive for him. That sort of focus was usually reserved for his composing.

“Come on, Jask. You can do this!”

He couldn’t do this.

“How’s it going, buttercup?” Triss asked as she popped her head around the door.

Jaskier pouted and gazed wistfully out the window at the parties in the street below. “I should be out there, Triss. I could have been up on the stage or snogging some gorgeous person behind the curtain!”

Triss smirked and put her hands on her hips. “Snogging?”

Jaskier winked. “Or fucking,” he added with a shrug. “Anything is better than this shit!” He said gesturing widely to the the stack of books on his desk.

“You could just give up?”

Jaskier gaped at her and huffed. “My muse!” He whined.

“Suit yourself,” Triss shrugged. “Ready to go again?”

Jaskier groaned but nodded as Triss passed him another test whilst setting an alarm on her phone.

“Go!”

He sighed but began to scribble furiously. He could do this!

__________

He’d fucking done it. Jaskier Pankratz was at Law School. His parents had never been so proud. They’d restored his inheritance to their estate and he finally had access to his bank accounts again. No more living on tips and barista wages for him. He grinned. He’d always known that Chireadan would be the best muse! He strutted down the halls dressed in his favourite black skinny jeans and a shocking pink crop top, his guitar slung over his shoulder and an ice coffee in hand.

It was time for the next part of his plan. It was time to get his muse back!

He smiled and waved cheerfully at his fellow law students as he danced through the corridors, sipping his ice salted caramel latte through a straw. Most of them looked at him as if he was from another planet. Their clothes were black, black and black. Did no one in law school know what colour was? Yes he was wearing black jeans, but his top was brightly coloured and more than a little bit sexy. He’d paired the outfit with some designer sunglasses, a gift to himself to celebrate his reunion with his credit card, and a pair high heeled ankle boots that laced up at the front. His fashion sense was just wasted on these clever folk.

He sighed dramatically and glanced up at the doors. He was absolutely not lost. It was just… nothing was very clearly marked. Perhaps that’s why you needed all the extra tests to get into law school, even getting to class was a fucking exam.

“Are you alright?” A deep gruff voice asked. “You look lost.”

Jaskier spun around and peered over the top of his sunglasses. His jaw dropped. The man in front of him was fucking gorgeous. He had the most beautiful silver hair that was pulled into a bun, revealing a sneaky undercut on either side of his head. He was wearing a black turtle neck that was a tad too tight and stretched over hidden muscles, and on his face were a pair of thick black rimmed glasses. It shouldn’t have been so sexy but holy mother of fuck. Even the ratty old tweed jacket looked good on him.

“Lost in your eyes maybe,” Jaskier winked and bit his lips.

“Hmm.”

And then he turned and walked away. Jaskier pouted. The man must be straight. There wasn’t even a blush on his face, either that or Jaskier was losing him game.

Nah. It wasn’t that. He looked fucking hot and he knew it.

Jaskier hurried after him and placed a hand on his arm. “Wait! No. I’m sorry. I am lost, like actually lost and not just in your eyes, although can I just say,” he gestured to the man’s body. “Wow. What colour are your eyes? Yellow, no golden… doesn’t matter. They are gorgeous.”

The man raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m Jaskier by the way. Jaskier Pankratz.” He held his hand out to shake but the man ignored it so he ran his fingers through his hair instead.

“What class?”

“Oh umm, excellent question,” Jaskier stuck out his tongue and he dug through his pockets for his schedule. It was already coffee stained and torn in the corner but who gives a shit. “Professor Stregobor?”

The man let out a weary sigh and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head and put his free hand on his hip as he sipped his coffee. “Why ‘fuck’?”

“You’re not going to last two minutes. Follow me.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. What was that supposed to mean? “Oh hang on!”

“Follow me.”

Jaskier’s jaw snapped shut. He hadn’t even made it to class yet and he was starting to regret everything.

_______________

“Come on…” Jaskier drawled as he rest his chin on his hands. The table was sticky and covered in beer but he ignored it. He had a job to do. He jutted out his bottom lip and widened his eyes at Chireadan.

Chireadan like everyone else in this damned party was dressed casually in a rather lovely blue jumper and chinos. Jaskier, who had been invited to the party by one Yennefer Vengerberg, was wearing a black corset, fishnet tights and a ridiculous pair of bunny ears. He should have known better than to trust Yennefer. She was fucking gorgeous and a phenomenal lawyer but she had taken a dislike to him. It was shame. He was pretty certain that under different circumstances they could have been friends. She was just ambitious and did not hesitate to trample on others to get what she wanted. He respected that.

It just had a few unpleasant side effects. Like turning up to a non-costume party dressed as a playboy bunny. At least he looked cute.

“No, no. Out of the question!” Chireadan said in his adorable little accent. It was what had drawn Jaskier to him in the first place. “I’m just not interested anymore.”

Jaskier let out a soft whine and batted his eyelids. “But I need you, you’re my muse!”

“Well you’ll have to find a new one. I’m done being fodder for your terrible songs.”

And like that the spell was broken. Jaskier gasped and sat back in his chair. “I. You. What?!” He shrieked.

“It was just one love song after another, and none of them even made sense? Do you even know how to rhyme? And we’re not even in love.” Chireadan huffed. “I want a girlfriend and I can’t do that with you trailing after me acting like a lovesick puppy. No. Julian. We are done.”

“Oh no. We are not done because you say so. We are done because you are a terrible muse with fucking awful taste in music. I cannot believe I wasted years on you!” Jaskier snapped. “I was just trying to repay you for saving my life but you. you.. ungrateful swine!”

“You’re acting like a child.”

“I’m a musician! I’m allowed to be dramatic!” He yelled and stood up, kicking the chair out from underneath him. “Yennefer Vengerberg will never love you. You’re wasting your time.”

“I know,” Chireadan sighed wistfully. “but I love her.”

Jaskier scoffed and fled the house. His pride was wounded. Not only had Stregobor called him a talentless fool who would never succeed in court, his muse, his precious muse had insulted his songs. He was fucking done with it all. He should never have come here.

His eyes stung and his throat ached as he bit back a sob. “Fuck!”

He shivered just as a heavy coat dropped around his shoulders. He touched the fabric in the dark; tweed. He smiled into his lap; Geralt. He felt Geralt sit next to him silently and he rest his head on Geralt’s shoulder.

“I spoke to Yen,” Geralt said in a low whisper. “I’d like to say she’s sorry for the costume joke.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Of course she’s not.”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier sighed dramatically as he looked up at the stars. “What am I doing here, Geralt? I’m a musician, not a lawyer, and apparently I can’t even do that right.”

“What? Who said that?”

“Chireadan,” he whined.

“He knows fuck all,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier sat up and stared at Geralt in disbelief. “Does this mean you like my music, Geralt?” Geralt scowled and refused to meet his gaze. “Oh come on, I’m having a shit night. Humour me?”

“I like your music.”

“What do you like about it, three words or less?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt groaned.

“Please!”

“It’s catchy.” A pause. “And I like your voice.”

Jaskier swallowed as he tried to remind himself how to breathe. He was certain it was the booze and Geralt actually being nice to him for a change but he suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss him. He cupped Geralt’s face, turning it gently so he was looking at Jaskier. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered down to Jaskier’s lips. There was no mistaking that and even in the dark Jaskier was pretty sure he could see a blush on Geralt’s cheeks. He was fairly certain that if Geralt didn’t kiss him now, he might die. He licked his lips and tilted his head at his friend. “Geralt?” He asked quietly.

Geralt hummed, the ever present scowl on his forehead deepening. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me?”

And he did. Then he did it again, and again, until Jaskier had forgotten all the sadness in his heart because all that mattered were Geralt’s lips against his. __________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67

#the witcher #legally blonde #modern au #geraskier #wolfie's witcher writing #Anonymous

[herstarburststories]

Important Milestones (Damian Wayne x reader)

✾ Summary: An intimate look through your and Damian's relationship. Requested! It’s been a hot bit since I wrote for Damian, so I hope this one is good!

↼❈⇁

First meeting

Dick was taking Damian to the circus

Add a long conversation and lots of "Yeah, Dami. I'm sure the animals are treated well-- Actually, animals aren't allowed in legal circus anymore. You don't have to worry."

They were watching the show, and Damian couldn’t believe that Grayson was so excited about clowns

Damian excused himself to get some food

Dick asked him to get a hotdog, but Damian will bring him popcorn #beaveg

Thing is, you and Damian arrived the food trunk at the same time

Which leaded to an argument

Y/N: I got here first!

Damian: You are not on the line!

Y/N: Because you almost ran over me!

You two kept going long enough for a worried Dick to show up

How to trust each other

You know when you've never seen a person before, but once you lay your eyes on them, you start seeing their face in every crowd?

That's basically you and Damian

How come you didn't know the idiot from the circus was also the Wayne guy that studied with you?

How he, with Talia and Batman's observation skills, never noticed you walking around Gotham's School and now he always caught a sight of you?

You and Damian quickly fall into a weird routine:

Glare each other during lunch

Rolls your eyes when the others was talking in class

Annoy each other whenever you had the chance

Jon teased him a lot

Talking about Superboy...

He seemed off in the morning and he hadn't showed up for lunch like he always did

Damian decided to look for his best friend

Surprisingly, he found Jon crying in your arms in the middle of the chemistry laboratory

You just looked at Damian and nodded for him to come in

Y/N: His parents had a big fight. I found him here alone and thought I could help. Since you are here, guess I'll go.

Damian: You can stay. I mean, Jon probably could use your emotional assistance.

Damian still finds you annoying (and so do you), but you helped his friend

He trust you... A bit

Recognize your feelings

Damian came to school one day. He is clearly hurt-- he couldn’t even walk straight

Jon remained quiet. He was there when the week's villain throw Damian against a wall as if he was a bag of potatoes

But you don't know about the Robin detail

Besides, you are sort of a trinity with them now

Therefore, you worry

And you ask

And you worry some more

It's been a few weeks since your friendship started. Damian trusts you, he really does, but not enough to tell you

Let's keep in mind that pretty much like Bruce, Damian isn't the best when it comes to expressing his feelings through anything but violence

So, he acts like an idiot

Y/N: Damian, come on. I'm not stupid enough to believe you’d fall hard enough to get yourself hurt like this. Talk to me.

Damian: Stop pushing your need to fix everything on me, Y/N. You are not my mother. Don't waste your worry on me, I don't need it.

You realized you liked him when you felt way more worried than you usually would

But Damian just noticed his cherish for you when you glared at him with evident hurt in your eyes and left the table

He just wanted you back, making silly jokes with Jon and stealing his fries

Kiss me, idiot

Two days

48 hours + 12 minutes since you two fought

A whole weekend

LISTEN, his life was going perfectly well before you came along

Now it seems like you opened a spot that's exactly your fit and put yourself there

Whenever you aren't around, Damian feels this weird sensation of missing

Jon convinces him into talking to you

As soon as he sees you in school, he does

Apologize becomes another argument (surprise, surprise)

Damian: Why do you care so much?!

Y/N: Because I like you, idiot!

Damian: You, you like me? As in--

Then you kiss him

Because, let's be clear, you'd end up kissing or punching him

Finding out he's Robin

It's the most stupid way possible

Like, for real

Last night, his Robin's duties kept Damian up until 5am

Instead of leaving his clothes inside the Batcave as usual, he just crumbled to his bed

The sun arrived and so did you

School project

While Damian was out to grab some books, you were studying his room

A picture of him and Jon. Some papers with Arabian words. A dog's bed. Robin suit. A sword

Wait, come back

A. Robin. Suit.

Damian Wayne was many things, but cosplayer certainly wasn't on the list

The pieces glued together fast

A rich family would make sense: Batman and Robin's instruments never looked cheap. Four Robins existed among the years, and Damian had 3 brothers. Not to mention that he'd show up with random scratches and never explain what happened. He was good with swords, and the current Robin had been seen with them a lot of times. Besides, Damian Wayne would never wear a costume willingly, much less keep one in his room

He walks inside the room to see you wearing his cape and mask

Y/N: Guess I'm robin' your persona, huh? Wanna tell me something?

Meeting the family

You come from a big family

Good thing because anybody else would be scared if they were in your shoes

MESS, MESS, MESS

Dick is smiling like a crazy all the time, and making dad jokes

Tim is teasing Damian by asking you to blink twice if you need saving

Jason is directly fighting Damian and calling him devil spawn

Bruce is quietly watching everyone with a subtle smile on his lips. He asks you a few questions, and occasionally asks the boys to behave before answering his phone and excusing himself

Babs, Steph and Cassandra come in later

Now the teasing is divided between you and Damian and Steph and Tim

You tease them a lot, blushing Tim is adorable

You are wearing purple boots, and Steph already loves you for that

Dick tells Babara about you being aware of the family secret

She offered to train you for some self-defense

YOU ACCEPTED, DUH. SHE IS THE BATGIRL!!

Cass is more quiet, but very friendly

Alfred was the first batfam member that you'd met, though (also your fav)

You try (key word being try) to help him in the kitchen

Batcow became your best friend, sorry Jon

You met the Titan family as well

Now you had munition to tease Dick as much as he teased you and Damian

Thank you, Kory

Also, Kor is a real life alien princess, how cool is that!?

Beast Boy is the funniest guy -- and now you are pretty sure you became a vegetarian because you can't eat animals after seeing his transformation

Raven reminds you of Cass

Donna is so powerful, and she knows so many languages!

You get along with his two families

Although Damian rolls his eyes a lot during y'all interaction, he is really happy

First kid

You and Damian are in university when it happens

You both know it's a big step

There's no turning back, you two will always be connected

Damian and you are now responsible, parents

Of the cutest bunny!

Yep, you insisted on naming him Robin

The first kid you both adopted together

Get on your knees for me

Damian isn't much of a romantic

You don't really mind

But when he proposes, it's the sweetest thing

You two had ordered some veggie food to celebrate the end of your finals

Finally a break!

Damian was holding you on the couch as you both watched one of your favorite movies when Robin, the bunny showed up

Y/N: Batbunny, just because we have vegan food, it doesn't mean you can get some. Go eat your lettuce.

Damian: Beloved, maybe you should see what he brought for you.

The bunny had a necklace wrapped around him!!

And the said necklace was attached to a ring!!

A FUCKING DIAMOND!?

Extra of love:

You became a vigilant for a bit before deciding how you truly wanted to help people

Besides charity, you became a lawyer specialized in cases of racism and immigration

Your and Damian's wedding was a mix of your culture and his

Comment/Reblog if you liked it, feedback is magic! Wanna see more? Check my Masterlist! How about get tagged on my batboys or just Damian works? Ask me or add yourself to my taglist!

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne headcanons #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne imagines #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #batfamily #BatFam #Batfamily Headcanon #batfamily headcanons #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam headcanons #batfam headcanon #batfamily x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanons #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #batboys headcanon #batboys imagine #batboys headcanons #batboys x you #batboys x reader #batboys #imagines

[dreamylyfe-x]

11x04: NIMBY Reactions

Oh my God, that’s the good stuff right there. I’ve been hanging on for the middle of the season, where I have felt pretty certain the tone -- with Gallavich particularly -- might shift and I was NOT disappointed. 

So first thing’s first: though Mickey had barely anything to do with the A Plot (Milkoviches Next Door) I still thought this episode was the best  Mickey-being-Mickey-as-I-know-and-love-him  episode we’ve had yet. (Though fair warning, I thought 11x03 had some quality classic Mickey in it -- just mostly the scenes without Ian.) 

Before we get started on Mickey, though, this is the second episode in a row where I’ve enjoyed the Frank plot? Granted, it was LARGELY Liam that I enjoyed, but I was still watching the Frank plot and that is a major shift from season 10, where I barely bothered. 

But yeah. Ok. Mickey. This episode was such a great Mickey episode from start to finish. One of the things I love about Shameless is the whole thing where normal for kids living in desperate conditions, while very different from most people’s normal, is still normal for THEM. And I really enjoyed Mickey watching the Milkoviches move in while giving the Gallaghers key intel on exactly what they were seeing. And kinda understanding how messed up some of it was in real time. That’s a real experience people have -- being mid-story and suddenly thinking “Yeah. This is way more fucked up than I realized.”  

I also enjoyed the several moments in the episode where Mickey overtly acknowledged that his family is insane, he just doesn’t like the Gallaghers looking down on him. Which: valid. 

Speaking of -- finally we find out the state of the Mickey-Terry relationship. Which is: there isn’t one. Another thing I loved is that Mickey shares the desire to see his family move on, but he’s not going to bother engaging with it. He’s going to work on getting him and Ian out of there, and pay hardly any attention to his family. Love that for him. 

I also love love LOVE that, now that he has a bead on something to do for money that doesn’t fill him with dread, Mickey is taking the same attitude he had when Ian was working and he wasn’t -- which is that he’s going to take care of things. As someone who was baffled at Mickey’s inaction and willingness to let Ian do all the work in the first few episodes, I really loved this. Because it’s consistent and it indicates that his world view just kinda like... Someone has to be taking care of the money part, and that might shift back and forth between him and Ian, but the result of the effort is going to be shared between them. I understand where Ian was coming from -- especially when Mickey kept returning to criminal enterprise -- but it’s nice to see a little more of how Mickey views things. 

Also, I know this is very well observed, so I’m retreading well-worn ground, but the scene with the cereal. Gah. I love it. Ian regressing -- I know they gave us the shot of the bottle of Jamison, but I felt like they were getting their point across with the cereal and the cartoons. And Ian not answering or responding to Mickey right away was extremely evocative of Ian’s history of depressive episodes. I loved how forthright Ian was about how awful the prospect of finding another job was, because it’s covertly agreeing with everything Mickey was saying in the first few episodes, too. 

There are so many little things I like about this scene. Mickey coming down the front stairs instead of the back, like he intuitively knows where Ian is at. Ian watching Harley Quinn cartoons, as both an in-joke AND as a believable cartoon choice. Mickey picking up the bottle, checking it’s weight and then just... moving it a little to the side. Mickey putting himself between Ian the TV. Mickey already having a plan for Ian. Just so much good stuff in there. 

Also, let’s talk about Ian for a minute here. One reason I hesitate to call anything OOC with these two is that the book generally isn’t closed. I really didn’t get the “I’m on my honeymoon” stuff, but after this episode, it folds in a lot better with what is going on with these two. Another thing that folds in better is Ian’s mounting frustration -- which is VERY Ian. He starts out with this forced buoyancy -- we’re going to get out own place, you are going to get a legal job so you can stay out of prison, I am going to make this warehouse gig work, and even though I’m frustrated and losing patience, I’m still trying to talk things out, and touching your hand and trying to ground everything in the fact that we’re together and we love each other -- and then we see that get chipped away at. Ian’s paycheque reveals that he’s being scammed out of a living wage. Mickey takes the road less travelled and immediately brings in more money that he’s every going to be able to get through the jobs he can currently get as a parolee. Mickey isn’t gracious about this, and the tension ramps up and that four episodes later he’s just walking around with a well-established and throughly justified black cloud over his head. 

The Milkovich’s really arrive like they’ve bought a White Trash in a Bag collection from Target. They seem to even have brought mattresses expressly for the front yard. 

OMG, Mickey got a scene with Sandy (and Debbie). But honestly, my favourite beat is the look Franny gives Mickey after he says kids are idiots. I also love how Sandy joins Mickey in just not seeing a point in waging battle against their family.

Lip, this is a little thing, but you aren’t supposed to eat breakfast, brunch, lunch and dinner. Brunch ideally REDUCES the number of meals you eat. But the key brunch move is to order something you can’t/wouldn’t make at home. Do not pay $14 for eggs and toast. 

So. Ok. I have seen some people very annoyed that Ian is so focused on Mickey not going back to prison, but I can’t see what is wrong with this. He just flat out isn't wrong to worry about it. It would be devastating if that happened. Mickey and Ian are extremely fortunate that he’s out at all. It’s a truly bizarre turn of events and I do not fault Ian for having a lot of concern about anything happening to jeopardize Mickey’s freedom. I also think this is confirmation that Ian just flat out doesn’t want to be without Mickey. I think he’s depressed -- and therefore extremely pessimistic -- in this episode, but there is far more indication that Ian wants Mickey around than that he doesn’t, so of course he’d be extremely focused on this concern. Also Cam puts some tremor onto “get sent back to prison” that really grabs my heart and squeezes. 

Cam in the towel is just good news. Mickey’s adorable with the gun. This scene is cute. 

This is the episode where I gave up on side-eying the Gemma-is-Superior running joke and just accepted it as kinda funny. Something about third-party confirmation. I dunno.

I enjoy the fact that Debbie apparently doesn’t know Sandy lives with them? Also, that feels like an Ian move. Gets boyfriend, moves in with boyfriend. 

The fact that Mickey is low-key playing Ian to get him to join him in this MUCH more promising venture is my absolute favourite. Bless the director for that foreground Mickey shot. Bless Noel for that nuanced facial expression. Bless everyone involved in that moment. It is one of my favourite things ever. 

I love that Ian’s whole reason for these outfits is so that Mickey will LOOK dangerous and not have to defend himself, thus staying out of trouble. That’s deeply, deeply sweet. 

Another sign that something is even more wrong with Frank than usual when he fully forgets the entire trip to visit the Brotherhood. 

I didn’t love V vs. Debbie but I really did enjoy Kev aligns with Frank, and also has a scene with Mickey. And that they weren’t silo’ed off on their own. 

So the eventual reveal we get that the old lady loves having rough sex with Terry was not a surprise to me because a) Shameless, but b) because of Christian’s face. Christian’s facial expressions are among my favourite on the show right now. 

I love this gif set by @sickness-health-all-that-shit.  What can I say except “look! Ian is smiling!” 

Mickey should be a better liar, but you know. He isn’t. 

I do like that, in this moment, the things they both bring to the enterprise come together to create a new possibility. This is pretty much exactly what I HOPED was going to happen and I love to see it. 

I think I’m going to ignore the Tami storyline because it was gross (not bad, but ... gross.) Also @fiona-fififi already wrote something that is much more comprehensive... I get the frustration, but just no part of me thinks Ian would allow himself to go where Tami did in examining what happened to her. Not at this point in his life. Which is sad, but very much in line with how Ian handles himself. 

Um. Yeah. Carl. Glad you’re not fully participating, Carl. But this is untenable. 

Overall, I am all the way in on this storyline for Ian and Mickey -- and pretty into the idea of V getting involved with politics. I think we’re getting all the seeds of where this show is going to leave the characters. And I haven’t loved every moment, but I do feel like the overall show is working for me better than last season. 

That might be faint praise. But I really liked this one. Best yet. 

#Shameless reactions #11x04 #NIMBY #gallavich #shameless season 11 #shameless spoilers

[forthecoloredgirl]

SILENCE | YOUNG LEONARDO DiCAPRIO

You were livid, not angry, livid. You didn’t know how to process the many emotions of just anger all attacking your mind and body at once. This had been your final straw, well maybe, it wasn’t one of those drastic issues where you’d have to do something drastic. You could say you were getting a little dramatic, but it was only because you cared. What got you so riled up was seeing your young movie star boyfriend slowly allow himself to get swallowed into the dark side of Hollywood. 

Young Leonardo DiCaprio was now Hollywood’s new IT boy along with other actors such as Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt. He was raising up in world quicker each and every night and as the fame rose up, so did he. He rose to the occasion, it first started with a small house party in the hills, but it gradually got bigger. The Leo you once knew didn’t spend his weekdays and weekends constantly just partying it up and getting drunk. He was a neat boy and now he was getting sloppy, but you had only thought it was just booze and a good time until you were hit with a wake up call today. 

Earlier you had gone to the Warner Brother’s studio to surprise Leo with lunch, but you were the one surprised instead. You had caught him in the back parking lot with a few of his older co-stars smoking a cigarette. You were shocked to the core and did a complete 180 coming back home. You couldn’t believe it, because it wasn’t just a cigarette, it was a small slow killing poison. That the both of you watch kill someone very important to the two of you in front of your eyes.

Both you and Leo had grown up in the same town and around the same neighborhood. Went to the same school, church, and even ran with the same crowd. Growing up the two of you belonged to the same friend group ever since the sandbox days, it was a group of six of you, two girls and four guys. All six of you lived on the same block, hung out together, and ultimately you all did every little thing together. Tried alcohol together, snuck into movies together, and even told each other your deepest secrets. However, everything changed within your group when the six of you got to highschool. That’s when drugs were introduced to you all and that caused a rift in the group. 

Leo and yourself ended up leaving those friends behind after an unfortunate homecoming night when the rest of the group decided to go outside with the seniors and try cigarettes. It all started because this one girl had gone to Europe for the summer and raved on and on about the legal drinking age and the trend surrounding smoking. At that point the school had created a new form of “cool” and in order to be part of that you had to smoke. So of course like any other doe eyed freshmen your friends followed, but you and Leo restrained yourselves deciding the focus on the things that would get the two of you out of your hometown. 

Most of the kids who hopped on the smoking trend at that time quickly found themselves in addiction. Loosing both their health and money just to get a smoke. Unlucky for you and Leo, the two of you had front row seats to watching one of the boys of the group, Robert, start to decline. Unlike the others, Robert’s body was more sensitive to the drug and it killed him before the two of you could finish highschool. Instead of walking the stage senior year, Robert lied in a casket six feet under. making him stuck in that town forever. 

After that Leo and yourself swore to one another that you wouldn’t dare touch the very thing that killed Robert and that was his addiction. However, now it wasn’t a bratty rich girl bragging about her trip to Europe, it was a new wave a fame and influence taking over Leo as it took Robert. 

“Baby, I’m home!” 

You heard Leo yell from front door. You sat in the kitchen, at the table with the picnic basket that had Leo’s surprise lunch in it wasting away. You waited until he entered the kitchen, once he spotted you he immediately could tell your energy was off. 

“Baby?”

He questioned, not really knowing what to do, You looked up at him and you watched as the confusion danced around in his eyes. 

“You remember Heather Chandler from high school? You know the girl that was stupid rich and basically got the whole school hooked on the “London Look”.”

“Yeah.”

He responded unsure at first to where you were going with that statement, but it slowly clicked for him after a moment. Heather Chandler was taken out of school after Robert’s death, because everyone ultimately blamed her for getting him addicted, as well as other kids. 

“I saw you today Leo, when you were out by Johnny’s car.”

You watched as instant shock ran across his face. Just like you were before, he couldn’t believe it. But that quickly changed, when he just shrugged his shoulders, turning to grab a beer from the fridge. You watched him a silent horror as he opened the beer and took a long sip. 

“Okay. Y/N it’s really no big deal. You’re acting as if I took a hot comb to your hair.”

He laughed at his own joke, but you only nodded your head. Reaching down beside you, you had brought out the yearbook from your senior year and opened the book up to Robert’s memorial. You gently placed the book on the table and got up leaving Leo and book alone together. You left him to go upstairs to your bedroom. Upstairs you pulled out a suitcase and began to fill it was clothing and other items. Minutes later you could hear Leonardo coming up the stairs, angrily he burst into the room. He chucked the yearbook onto the bed.

“You think I’m going to end up like Robert?! Seriously Y/N how low do you think of me?!” 

Ignoring him, you continued your task and kept your silence. After a couple of seconds Leo spoke up again and still you ignored him. This went on for about ten minutes and right as you were about to place the last item in the case Leo came over to you slapping the toiletry bag out of your hands. 

“Am I speaking to myself here? Or are you hearing impaired?” 

Still keeping your silence you just bent down and picked up the bag. Picking up the bag you side stepped him and walked back over to the bed where the case lay. Placing the bag in the case and zipping the case up, setting in down on the floor. 

“B-baby w-w-what’s the case for?”

Now there was no more boom to his voice and it had gone soft now. Shaking your head and pulling the handle up from the case you began towards the door. Quickly throwing himself onto your lower body, Leo was on his knees and shaking. 

“No, no, no. Please don’t leave, you can’t. Baby I’ll do anything.”

Anything you thought. Now knowing you held the upper hand in the situation.

“Leo get yourself together. Like you said it isn’t a big deal, but that is your opinion. Robert was loosing himself just like you are now and I will not sit around to watch another one of the people I deeply care about loose not only themselves but their lives too!”

“No baby I’ll change. Everything stops now! No more drinking, smoking, all of it.”

“Really Leo you think-”

“No baby! I know I can! If it’s for you, I’ll do anything. Baby even if you wanted me to stop this acting thing I’d put it all to an end right away! Nothing is worth loosing you over. You’re the only thing I know truly in my heart that I want and need.”

Tears were running down his face and once you finally looked down at him, your heart shattered. You gave in instantly and dropped down to your knees pulling him into your arms. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry! Baby you say the word and it’s done.”

“It’s okay Leo, just calm down and we can talk. Maybe some fresh-”

“NO! I don’t need fresh air I need you!!”

“Leo I’m not going to leave, I promise!”

You said rubbing his back softly as his grip on you tightened. 

“Baby I can’t loose you and I’m sorry to Robert too. I know we made a promise to each other and now I’m going to take in seriously! I owe it to both you and Robert.”

“I know, I know.”

You said holding onto him. You were hoping he was serious, because you seriously couldn’t put yourself through watching him loose himself to addiction. Especially if it was going to be the boy you loved. 

**NOT MY GIF**

**If you would like to repost my work please give credit**

#woc #woc!reader #leonardo dicaprio #leonardo x reader #leonardo dicapro x reader #young leo dicaprio #young leonardo dicaprio #blackgirlbeauty #blackgirlsmatter #black!reader #poc!reader #poc

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.15}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 6.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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They hadn't technically agreed to meet again before breakfast, but Robin almost counted on it that Snape would be waiting for her at some point between where they had parted half an hour ago and the great hall. And indeed, it was the entrance hall where they crossed ways as if by coincidence, and for a brief moment Robin wondered how he always did that. Snape seemed surprised to see both Jorien and Cas following after Robin, which was understandable after what she'd told him a few hours ago, and Robin didn't waste time to address the matter at hand.

"I gave both of them detention for today." She said with a small sigh. "And now they-..."

"She can't actually give us detention." Jorien cut in, glaring at Robin, then turned to face Snape. "Right? There's something called rules, which Robin obviously has never heard of before! She's in no position to give us orders!"

"And what, pray tell, gives you the audacity to judge that?" He replied with a sharp glance at Jorien, and it took the wind out of her sails immediately. "If you had questioned my decisions like that, Miss Blakeley, you would be serving more than one day of detention."

"So she's actually allowed to do this?!" Jorien looked entirely exasperated now. "Her word is law?"

"Obviously." Snape scowled at her in his usual manner. "I will be seeing you in my classroom after breakfast."

"That's got to be a bloody joke!" Jorien groaned and stormed off without another word, entering the great hall with anger radiating off her in palable waves.

"I, uh… Sorry, for… her." Cas said quietly, giving both Snape and Robin an apologetic look. "We, I mean, I… will see you. Both. After… yeah." Without another glance at either of them, she made her way through the large doors as well, disappearing into the direction of the Ravenclaw table.

As soon as the doors fell shut again, Robin closed her eyes and sighed deeply. After a night like the one she's had, this is not how the morning was supposed to go. And it certainly wasn't a good idea to treat the healing wounds of one relationship with the cutting edges of another.

"I'm so sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen, and it certainly wasn't supposed to happen like this." She finally said as she opened her eyes again to peer up at Snape. "Thank you for having my back nonetheless."

"Any time." He replied calmly, as if he hadn't just given Jorien a death glare half a minute ago. "And don't be sorry. This conflict obviously has great significance to you, and therefore I would like to see it solved as well."

"Thank you." She sighed softly, then ran a hand through her hair while collecting her thoughts. "I just wanted to sort this out… but then things escalated and I did the only thing I could think of."

"You gave them detention."

"Yeah." Robin still was entirely unhappy with that fact, but she would make the best of it now. "Cas was quick to accept it, but Jorien…"

"She reminds me of you in your first year."

"Ugh… I know." Robin groaned, rolling her eyes, but she still couldn't help smiling a little. "She's heard too many of the cutting remarks I direct at other people. She's gotten rather good at hurting people with her words herself."

"Perhaps I should indeed have given her even more detention for her behaviour then."

"Nah… Wouldn't fit in with your punishment policy, would it? She would hardly have learned from that; her problem is her anger, not discipline or authority."

"Indeed." He mused, watching how Robin leaned against the wall behind her with a sigh. Almost curiously, he raised his eyebrows at her then. "So why did you choose to give them detention in the first place? Not that I wouldn't approve of that decision, but it surprises me nonetheless."

"It's the only possibility to get them to stay in the same room, with each other and with me. The only legal one, at least." She shrugged, clasping her hands between her back and the wall.

"Clever. As always."

Robin's lips tugged upwards into a small smile upon the comment, but she tried not to let it cloud her focus on the problem at hand. "I'm going to make them talk to each other, and it won't be pretty. I've gotten a good glimpse of it already, and I'm honestly not looking forward to the entire thing unraveling. But they've got to stop what they're doing to themselves, and to each other."

"Their actions have an effect on you even more than on each other, I believe."

"Yeah… But they don't know that, and they don't have to. I'm good if they're good with each other, and I'm willing to do a lot to get them there. They won't have to thank me afterwards, not even talk to me if they'd prefer not to."

"You'd be surprised by how much some people are willing to forgive." He quirked an eyebrow at Robin, and she had to smile yet again. Alright, he had a point.

"We should go in, or breakfast will be over before we've had a bite." She finally said and pushed herself off the wall. "Should be dreadful as always, without anyone to talk to."

"Actually, I would be glad to miss the inquiries about my whereabouts that are certain to come up at the head table."

"Since when do you bother with inquiries about anything at all?" Now it was Robin who quirked an eyebrow at him with a small smirk.

"Just because I have no intention to reply to them unfortunately doesn't spare me from hearing them."

Robin couldn't help laughing at the pout in his tone, and she found herself wishing that she could just fight off all the inquiries he didn't want to hear. She didn't particularly like answering annoying questions either, but she didn't dread it nearly as much as Snape did. Somehow, she thought it to be her task, her privilege to spare him from that.

"You could always pretend to be listening while really thinking of something else. With your usual range of reactions in public, nobody would notice a difference." She mused with even more of a smirk, and for a short moment, she even got one in return.

They entered the great hall then, each moving to their respective tables in silence, but as far as Robin could tell, both in as much contentment as the situation allowed. Of course, both hid it in their own way. Snape with the usual public scowl, and Robin with the usual calm neutrality. She would get Cas and Jorien to talk to each other today, there was no doubt in it. She would make sure that this would be a good day after all.

… … …

The detention served its purpose wonderfully indeed. Being forced to stay in the same space for an entire day meant that Cas' and Jorien's conflicts were prone to escalate eventually, and once they did, it was also inevitable for the storm to pass. Even better, they were quicker to forgive each other than Robin had anticipated. By lunchtime they were mostly talking to each other again, and by the time detention was over they were back to being best friends after all.

Neither remembered to apologise to Robin when they left detention that evening, they didn't even acknowledge her involvement in their conflict at all. But on the flipside they were quick to treat her as their adult friend again, their big sister rather than their enemy, which left things off as if nothing had happened in the first place. To Robin that was a good enough result, she didn't need an apology nor a thank you. Only for things to return to normal between the three of them, and she had definitely achieved that.

So when she sat in the office again that night, drinking coffee with Snape while refusing to leave just yet even though she was tired enough to fall asleep over her mug, she knew that she had been lucky. From here on, things would start to be alright again indeed.

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Robin cursed under her breath when she flipped the book in her lap shut with a bang that was loud enough to echo through the curves and edges of the arcades around her. Her free period was about to be over, having passed all too soon, while yet the dreadfully slow pace of her classes on this mid-May Friday seemed to be trickling by like endless seconds turned to dust. It was just two more weeks until the end of term, until exams. Two more weeks until her N.E.W.T.s in herbology and potions. She had been studying relentlessly ever since February, and ever since that day in March she's had Snape by her side again to help her as well. Still, she felt like there wasn't enough time to cram all that unnecessary and redundant theoretical knowledge into her head. All those facts she knew would never be of any relevance to her, or some of which she straight out believed to be wrong. But she still had to know them if she wanted a good grade, and thus she used every minute of every day for studying.

Things between Robin and Snape had returned to normal quickly after their shared crash-and-burn experience in March. Well, perhaps not quite back to normal. There were certain things that were different now, positively different. Honestly, they were closer than ever, and Robin couldn't be more glad about that. Ever since the beginning of May they had paused their usual evening lab work (which usually was of a more experimental nature by now, if not mandatory restocks or preparations), and instead started trying to perfect Robin's skills in making every and any potion that might possibly come up in the practical part of her final examination. It was a great way to practice, and she was thankful beyond measure for his help, but still Robin couldn't help feeling entirely unprepared. Snape kept on telling her that she would be fine, but honestly it didn't ease her nerves too much. She would never be as good as him at actually making potions, and she would never be as good as she wanted to be either. If that was even possible in the first place.

So when another free period ended with an entirely unproductive feeling, she climbed out of her arch in the arcades with stiff limbs and a scowl. Stupid textbooks… who the hell wrote these bloody things anyway? They were practically useless for anything other than passing standardized tests. She seriously considered writing a potions textbook herself at some point, while she made her way towards her charms class, just for the sake of it. Perhaps she would keep it in mind as a career option.

Luckily charms was the last class of the day, but it would still be a dreadfully long afternoon if Flitwick would continue his endless lecture about a spell to write in different fronts on blackboards, which he had started last week and never quite managed to finish. Robin sat down at her desk with a sigh, but only took off her sunglasses at last when Flitwick gave her a pointed look for it. Yes, perhaps it wasn't polite to wear sunglasses inside, but had he ever tried to see anything while facing a window the sun was shining through?! Obviously not. Thus, Robin was left squeezing her eyes together to keep looking at the charms professor while he started the class. But her misery didn't last long.

Two minutes into class time, the door flew open and in strode the only saving grace that was even better than sunglasses right now. Still, his trademark billowing robes and overall dramatic entrance made Robin smirk way more than she probably should have. Without even knowing what Snape was here about, she started packing up her things already on instinct. If this was coming to be a repeating pattern, she would gladly oblige.

"Severus?" Flitwick asked in mild surprise that equalled that of his students. Perhaps it was the fact that Snape never bothered to knock that came as such a surprise to everyone, or perhaps they simply were scared to be in trouble.

"I'm afraid I need to steal Miss Mitchell from you, Filius." He stated as neutrally as ever, and Robin tried her hardest not to smile like an idiot. Of course he was here because of her… he would've sent one of the second years he was supposed to be teaching right now for anything else. Robin took a quick moment in her mind to pride and chide herself for the fact that she knew his class schedule better than her own.

"Uh, certainly! I mean…" The slightly dumbfounded charms professor glanced at Robin who had already gotten up and shouldered her backpack without a concern in the world. "For… for how long?"

"The entire lesson, of course." Snape drawled in feigned annoyance and gave his colleague a look that made it abundantly clear that he wouldn't answer any more questions. Thus Flitwick merely nodded, averting his eyes from the intense gaze, and then continued his lesson as if nothing had happened.

Robin followed Snape out of the room, and only once the door had undoubtedly fallen shut behind them and they were alone in the hallway, she allowed herself to smirk up at him. "Am I needed somewhere or did you just miss me?"

He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly in return, a shadow of a half-smirk ghosting over his lips for a second, but then he started leading her down the hallway with a serious expression. "I have a favour to ask of you."

Robin's eyebrows rose in an instant, and she looked up at Snape again instead of where she was walking. "Do go on."

"I need you to take over the second year potions class that I am supposed to be teaching right now." He said in an instant, as if glad to get the request out at all, but after a moment of silence, doubt obviously made him continue. "If you are in your right mind, you will straight out decline any participation in this and-..."

"I'll do it." Robin cut in with a small smile that threatened to grow into a smirk. When he gave her a surprised glance, she added, "Have I ever been in my right mind?"

"Probably not." He mused, and finally the doubt faded from his face to be replaced by subtle relief. "Thank you."

"Anytime." She smiled, then quirked an eyebrow at him as they made their way towards the stairs to the dungeons. "Might I ask though, why do you need me to watch over your class?"

"Because I need to teach Morgan's seventh years." He sighed, obviously discontent with the fact. "Morgan reported that he was feeling ill after lunch, and Professor Dumbledore asked me to take over the class in respect to the impending final examinations. That, however, leaves my own class unattended, which I strongly disfavour for the very same reason. Even second year students should be well prepared for their exams."

"And why would you ask me, out of all people, to teach a class? Don't get me wrong, I'm honoured… But why choose the one person who has close to no experience with this thing, while there's a bunch of competent professors at this school?"

"They are not competent." He said, but when Robin gave him a look, he rolled his eyes and added, "They are competent in their subjects, not in ours."

"Alright, so you picked me because I'm good at potions. Better someone who knows the subject and nothing about teaching than someone who knows teaching but nothing about the subject. I get that. But what if I'm horrible at both?"

"Keep in mind that they made Morgan a professor. I think you should reevaluate your perception of what it takes to teach a class around here."

Robin let out a snort at the comment, shaking her head, and she did indeed feel more comfortable with the circumstances in an instant. If bloody Morgan could do this, she could too.

"I can only hope I won't screw this up." She finally sighed when they reached the crossing where they would need to part ways. "But I'll do my best to fill in for you. Even if the gap is quite a bit too large for me."

"Thank you." He was quick to reply, but then paused for a second. "You will be perfectly fine; the gap isn't nearly as large as you believe it to be. In any case, you can always scowl and have them write an essay should you find yourself uncertain what to do next. Works every time."

"I'll remember that." Robin huffed with a small smile, and only when Snape moved on to his own class, she remembered to ask the important questions. "What am I supposed to teach them anyway?"

"Revision of the term, ideally." He replied over his shoulder, and Robin couldn't help wishing he wouldn't go. "But try to remember that they aren't you. Lower your expectations, or teach the students to meet them."

With that he was gone, rushing up the spiral staircase while Robin made her way down. Oh God… had she actually agreed to teach a freaking potions class?! Second years, admittedly, but still! What was she supposed to do, make an entrance like Snape and scare the hell out of them? Actually… no no no, she couldn't do that. Fuck. She should just try to do the same thing she always did when tutoring Cas and Jorien, that had always worked just fine. Even with up to twenty people at once! Wasn't much of a difference to an entire class, was it? Only that they were actually going to expect her to teach them something, not just help with revision. But then again, it was supposed to be revision after all. Breathe, Robin… She could almost hear Snape's voice in her head by now, as often as he had said that to her over the last few weeks when she started panicking over exams. And breathing she did indeed, as she stood in front of the door to the classroom. She could do this. It was potions, she loved potions. She knew potions. It would be alright.

With a perfect calm neutrality she opened the door, and made her way towards the front without a hint of doubt shining through. At least she finally got the desk she's always been meaning to trade for.

… … …

A little more than an hour and a half later, Robin was surprised to find that everything had been alright indeed. Nothing had exploded, nothing had been damaged, and everyone had come out alive and a little smarter than before. She had done a revision of the entire school year with them like she was supposed to, and surprisingly enough, the students had actually been more than willing to accept her as their teacher for the day. A good mixture of calm politeness and menacing scowls had kept everyone in line without making them despise her, which was as good an outcome as Robin could've hoped for. And perhaps some of them had actually learned from her explanations and little tricks after all.

It was only when the students started leaving the classroom that she allowed herself to feel out of place again, being the teacher, and sitting on the edge of Snape's desk like that. He surely wouldn't approve of such a thing, but for some reason Robin was intrigued to find out what he would do about it. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get to. Just when the last student had left the classroom, someone else came in instead.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Robin jumped off the desk immediately when the headmaster came sauntering through the aisle between the students' rows. "I, uh… Sorry, I didn't… What brings you down here? I mean, is there anything I can help you with?"

"Good afternoon, Miss Mitchell." He bowed his head ever so slightly with that small smile of his. "Actually, I-..."

He was interrupted by a knock on the door. Robin looked at Dumbledore almost expectantly, uncertain what to do or how to react, but he merely mentioned for her to go ahead before retreating to a shadowy corner of the room, picking up and studying a few jars in well feigned interest.

"Come in." Robin thus called out, feeling like an idiot to do so when there was an actual authority figure in the same room, but Dumbledore's wordless prompt for her to see to whatever was the issue had been clear enough.

"Sorry… if I'm interrupting." A small voice spoke from the door, and a second later one of the girls who had been part of the class just moments before reluctantly came back into the room. "I… uh, I was just wondering if perhaps… you had a minute?"

Oh god. Robin's mind raced with a million questions in return. She wasn't supposed to be a replacement for Snape! Well she was, in a way, but just for the revision part of the class! But as long as he wasn't here, she might as well fill in as good as she could for this as well.

"Wouldn't you like to speak to… Professor Snape about whatever the issue is instead? He should return soon, you can wait here if you wish." She asked, but the girl shook her head vehemently in return.

"No, I mean... do you… uh, have time for me perhaps? Before he returns?" The girl asked again, barely loud enough to be heard, and Robin did her best not to display any of the unease she felt. This wasn't her place… but she wasn't one to let people down who asked for her help.

"Certainly I have, if it really is me you wish to talk to." She finally replied with a calm little smile, much like the one Dumbledore had shown her seconds before. Sometimes inspiration was drawn from the most desperate of places. With a certain glance at the young girl who only nodded, Robin motioned to the chair in front of the desk. "Come sit down then. I don't bite."

The girl quickly scurried to the place she was pointed to, then looked up at Robin who sat down on the edge of the desk again like it was the only suitable place for her to claim. Really, she wouldn't dare to take a seat on the other side of the desk. She didn't want to give off the impression that she actually had anything to say around here.

"What can I help you with?" She prompted when the girl still wouldn't speak up after a while of quiet observation. Bloody hell, this felt odd… she wasn't supposed to be in this position.

"Well, I… uh, I noticed that you are… explaining things differently than Professor Snape, and you know so much, and I… I'm just horrible at potions!" The girl broke into tears so suddenly that Robin had a hard time keeping up with the sudden shift. "I always feel like I don't understand anything at all, and everyone else got what you explained today so well and I just… I didn't understand at all! I will fail my exam for sure! I just… I don't even understand why I have to learn all this nonsense! All those stupid little details… Why is that even important for anything?!"

While the girl kept sobbing relentlessly even after her rant, Robin honestly just felt lost in return. For a moment she was frozen, then she frowned, and finally she simply felt helpless. What was she supposed to do now?! What's one supposed to do with crying children? Bloody hell...

"I am certain the situation isn't half as bad as you make it out to be." She started, trying to use her most comforting voice, but the girl just kept on crying and crying as if she had been holding off just to unleash it all on Robin now. Oh geez… what was a professor to do in a situation like that? Use their brains. So Robin did. "Hey, look at me for a moment, yes?"

The girl did look up indeed, which was something at least, and Robin grabbed the first object on the desk she could get a hold of (which happened to be a burning candle), then held it out in front of her. "You know this spell?" She asked, while at the same time turning the candle into a drinking glass.

"Yes…" The girl sniffled, looking first at the glass and then at Robin. Without hesitation, Robin handed the object to her.

"How about this one?" She asked again, and this time she filled the glass with water to the brim.

"No…" The girl replied in a quiet voice, and while the water didn't spill over the edges of the glass, tears kept spilling over in her cheeks nonetheless. She looked at the glass in confusion for a moment, then back at Robin.

"Drink it." Robin ordered calmly, keeping her eyes on the girl who frowned a little at the odd request, but obliged without protest. Half a minute later, the glass was empty and Robin took it from her to set it aside. By now the girl had stopped crying and merely looked a little confused, but by far not as devastated anymore. So far so good. "Do you feel better?"

The girl nodded quietly, so Robin went on.

"See, you knew the charm to transform the candle into a glass, yes? It is a very basic spell, one of the fundamentals of transfiguration, you could say. The second spell I used served to fill the glass with water. You didn't know that one, but I can assure you that you will learn it sooner or later. But now imagine… What would you do if you knew how to conjure water first, but nobody had ever taught you how to get yourself a glass? Would be awfully hard to drink, wouldn't you say?"

Again, the girl nodded, and she even smiled a little at the image Robin was painting with her words.

"So we need the basic spell first, to make any use of the more advanced ones after that. Because without the basics, the difficult things wouldn't be of any value to us. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"

"I think so… It's important to know the basics, because you need a ground and matter to build on and work with."

"Exactly!" Robin offered her a small smile, even if it was feigned. "And it is exactly the same with potions. You need the basics and the details first, if you want to understand the complex structures later on."

"I can see that, I guess…"

"Good!" Robin sighed under her breath. "Now, did I understand you correctly that you're afraid of the exam for this class?"

"Yeah... I've been having problems in potions for a while now. I just don't understand how things work together and how they relate to each other. And you obviously are great at it, so I just… wanted to ask for help, I guess. Or even just some advice."

"If you have problems in a subject, you shouldn't hesitate to talk to the professor as soon as possible. Not just two weeks before the exams." Robin replied, but tried to keep the accusation out of her tone at least, if it was already so very present in her words. Calling out wrong behavior probably wouldn't help right now.

"I know…" The girl peered down at her hands in her lap, picking at the edge of her skirt while effectively avoiding Robin's eye. "But I was too scared to say anything, before now. I just… I thought I would only get yelled at anyway."

Again, Robin wanted to sigh. Somehow, she always ended up stuck between what people believed about Snape and what he wanted them to believe. There was fairly little she could do in between those two, without disregarding the reality of either. "I understand. And I won't tell you to talk to anyone you feel afraid of, even if I probably should. But I will say, out of my own experience and sincere belief, that people sometimes will surprise you if only you give them the chance to."

"Really?"

"Yes. No matter what you believe to know about someone, you must always leave open the possibility for them to change your mind. Nobody likes being trapped inside a box not made for them."

"You mean people should stop categorising?"

"No. Categorising is important for us to function in a world of such complexity. It would completely overwhelm us if we didn't categorise. What I'm saying is that you should keep in mind that you never know all there is to someone, that the picture you have of them isn't necessarily who they really are. And that when you put the world into boxes in your mind, you should always leave the lid open."

"I've never thought about it like that… but I guess you're right. Thank you." The girl gave Robin a timid smile in return. "I will try to talk to Professor Snape tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps he can help me find a point to start catching up with the class."

"Make that tomorrow morning and you might actually find him in a good mood." Robin said before she could help it, and upon the girl's confused face, she added, "When you've known someone for a while, you also know the best time to talk to them about certain things. Tomorrow morning, yes?"

"Yes! Definitely!" The girl nodded and rose to her feet with more energy than anyone should have at this point. "Thank you, professor!" With that she grabbed her back and skipped down the aisle towards the door, where she disappeared and was gone two seconds later. Only then Robin's mind snapped out of it, and she frowned to herself for a moment. Had the girl actually called her 'professor'? Robin shook her head at the odd encounter and turned the glass back into a candle before she would forget about it.

"That was quite impressive, if you allow me that one remark." Dumbledore's voice startled Robin enough to make her jump off the desk once more, heart jumping into action equally while a rush of adrenaline spread in her veins. Bloody hell… she had completely forgotten about him. And honestly, Dumbledore was remarkably good at making himself practically invisible. Perhaps actually indivisible, who knew.

"I wouldn't call it impressive. Self-defense would be more like it." Robin replied sincerely, while trying to keep up her facades nonetheless. There was no use trying to fool Dumbledore, but she wouldn't make it easy for him to see through her either. "I really just wanted her to stop crying. It made me uncomfortable."

"Still, your advice was remarkable, even if perhaps a little difficult for a child to fully understand. Say, what did you put into that water?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's something my parents did with me when I was little. Just give a crying child a glass of water and they will stop crying to drink it. That means they will stop crying for crying's sake, and a great majority of children's problems will already be solved at that point. At the very least, it'll be easier to have a calm conversation from there on."

"Interesting. After long years of teaching at this school, I still find myself learning something new about human behavior every day. Even if by now, I believe to have quite a bit of insight into the… mind of the common person."

"I don't. I mean, I'm not good with people, neither with children nor adults. Remembering little tricks like that, or making use of logic and knowledge to manipulate someone for their own good… Some people might call that insensitive or rude, but it really only is a means to function like any other." She said, as the question about Dumbledore's presence here came back to her mind. "Anyway, I think the girl will be fine if she actually takes the advice about keeping an open mind. But what was it you wanted to say, before we were interrupted in the first place?"

"I meant to say that I came here looking for Severus." Dumbledore smiled, and finally sauntered out of the dark corner he had been dwelling in. "I believe he might be in the possession of a book I would like to borrow for a few days."

"May I ask which one?" Robin inquired, curiosity winning over reason and definitely over manners as well. "I've read all of them at this point, so I'll probably be able to tell you if what you're looking for is part of his collection."

"Of course you have…" Dumbledore's smile turned into a sincere one, and Robin couldn't help wondering why he seemed to be so very amused by what she'd said. "The book I am looking for is a collection of spells about literature and literary mediums. You see, I unfortunately made the mistake of leaving a book of great value too close to Fawkes when it was time for him to burn… You certainly can imagine the outcome."

Robin eyebrows rose in surprise at first, then she had to smile at the coincidence, and finally her brows furrowed into a frown. There was no such thing as a coincidence when it came to the headmaster. And even if that story was true, a great wizard like him surely didn't need a random book about literature spells to help him out. Curious…

"I believe I can help you with that. As it happens to be, I'm in the possession of the very book you are looking for as well. That might spare you plenty of waiting time." She said anyway, putting on her own calm neutrality once again as she turned to summon her copy of the book out of her bag. Then she skipped down the two steps in front of the desk and approached Dumbledore, handing it to him with a smile that mirrored his own. "Well, actually I was the first to have the book, but then I gifted him a copy as well… Anyway, you might find something suitable on page 46… or perhaps it was page 64, it's been a while since I've read it."

Dumbledore accepted the book with a small bow of the head, and a peculiar glance at Robin that to her was more unsettling than reassuring. "Thank you, Miss Mitchell. I will be sure to return it to you before the end of term."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Sir. I know where another copy is, should I need it."

"Of course you do…"

Somehow Robin found herself annoyed by the many times he said that, by the way he said it even more, but she didn't let it on. Instead she merely held his gaze, unfaltering and steady even though it was still so very unsettling. Deeply inquiring and invasive even, while yet hidden behind the calmest contentment and innocence. He was so much more difficult to read than Snape was. For Robin, at least, but she knew that it was an unfair comparison to make from her perspective. She was as biased as she could be.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sir?" She finally asked, after what seemed like hours of silence.

"Not that I am aware of. Thank you for the book." He mused with a knowing smile, then turned around to leave. As soon as the door fell into its lock behind him, Robin let out a long breath and returned to the desk in a slow saunter. What an odd encounter. Another odd encounter.

When she took her perch on the edge of the desk again, putting the books she had used during the class back into their place, she finally realized what had bothered her about the entire thing. Dumbledore had been the one to tell Snape to take over Morgan's class, and therefore he must've known that he wouldn't find him down here. That means he had either come here to wait for Snape, which was highly unlikely, or he had meant to seek out Robin in the first place. In which case he must have known that she possessed the particular spellbook as well. And he haid lied to her without her noticing even in the lightest. But… why on earth would he do any of that?

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[latter-day-saint-nick]

I heard that the BBC Dracula adaptation written by Stephen Moffat was really bad, and it made me curious to see just how bad it was, so I decided to watch it for myself. It was not one of my smarter decisions.

But in order that my suffering won’t have been completely in vain, I’ll recap it here for those who are curious as well, to spare you the pain of actually having to watch it. You’re welcome!

Let me describe the viewing experience as best I can.

I have a BBC iPlayer account, so I could watch the show legally. My wife tells me to pirate it instead to avoid giving Moffat the views. She is right. I click on the first episode.

Episode 1

We start with a framing device of a severely ill Jonathan Harker in a Hungarian monastery, telling his story to two nuns. I do not hate this framing device. The original novel was told through diary entries, newspaper articles and letters, so having different characters tell the story of what happened to them to others is a neat way to adapt this type of literary device. The dialogue quickly takes a turn for the ridiculous, though, when one of the nuns, Sister Agatha, asks Jonathan in a silly accent if he had sexual intercourse with Count Dracula. Because queerbaiting? Is vampirism an STD now?

Still, the show tricks us into thinking that it’s going to be a fairly straightforward adaptation of the story as Jonathan recounts how he arrived at the castle, met the Count and became his prisoner. Later, this will turn out to be a sweet, sweet lie, but I don’t know that yet. At first, Dracula looks about a hundred years old and has a bad Romanian accent, but the more he feeds on Jonathan, the younger he gets, and the more refined and posh his British accent. Because this Dracula does not just absorb his victims’ lifeforce but also their knowledge. I find that stupid.

Dracula says the famous “I do not drink... wine” line. Badly. Still, the reference is mildly cute the first time. He repeats the line several times throughout the show, and it gets progressively less funny each time.

Jonathan reads a letter from his fiancee, Mina. In it, she jokes about how she’s going to sleep with all the cute men in the neighbourhood while he’s gone, as well as the adorable bar maiden, if she needs some variety. I sigh as I realize that this is probably what Moffat considers good queer representation.

At one point Jonathan talks about falling asleep, and Sister Agatha proceeds to ask him if he had dirty dreams about his fiancee. She persists with the question, even after Jonathan tells her that that’s private. It doesn’t seem like a pertinent question, but I guess Sister Agatha is just a pervert. Or maybe Moffat is.

Jonathan finishes his story about how he escaped from the castle. He bemoans that he can’t go home to England, because he is such a changed man and he can’t even remember his fiancee’s face. Sister Agatha reveals that the other nun with her is actually Mina. What a tweest! Apparently even before Jonathan told his story, Sister Agatha managed to figure out that he is English, tracked him down, found his fiancee and had her brought over to Budapest. The show is clearly hoping that the unexpectedness of this twist is going to distract us from the fact that it makes no damn sense at all.

It also turns out that Jonathan has become a vampire, and the sight of blood nearly makes him attack Mina. Of course, being one of the main heroes, he was never turned in the novel, not that that matters.

At this point Dracula shows up at the gates of the monastery in the form of a wolf. And I don’t mean that he shapeshifts like an Animorph. He is literally inside the wolf’s body, and he claws his way out of it, emerging at the gates naked and covered in wolf blood. I really don’t know why.

He and Sister Agatha proceed to have a sass-off. My wife makes fun of the dialogue by saying that it’s basically this:

“I’m a badass sister!” “Yeah, but I’m Dracula!” “Yeah, but I’m a badass sister!” “Yeah, but I’m Dracula!” “Yeah, but I’m a badass sister!” “Yeah, but I’m Dracula!” “Yeah, but I’m a badass sister!” “Yeah, but I’m Dracula!”

By the time my wife has finished the joke, the banter is still going on. It feels like it’s never going to end.

The Mother Superior tells the nuns to arm themselves. My wife starts wondering if we’re actually watching a Mel Brooks movie. Also, Sister Agatha is revealed to be Van Helsing. This is not as meaningful as the show seems to think it is, as she and Dracula haven’t had any past encounters. So it’s really just, “Oh, she’s actually a gender-swapped character from the book. That’s cool, I guess.

Finally, Dracula slinks off because he can’t get inside the monastery without being invited. He manages to find Jonathan, now fully a vampire, at a window and gets him to invite him in. You’d think this would be the end of the stupidity, but clearly I haven’t suffered enough yet.

Jonathan finds Mina and Sister Agatha. Sister Agatha tries to fend him off, since he’s, you know, a vampire and tried to feed off of Mina earlier. Mina, however, believes that the power of love can save him, so she approaches him. I point out that in the book, Mina was characterized as being very intelligent, not that that matters. As it turns out, it wasn’t Jonathan at all, but Dracula, wearing Jonathan’s skin, which he rips off, like something out of Hellraiser. He never uses this power again in the rest of the series.

The episode ends with him attacking the two women. Against my better judgement, I decide to watch the next episode, because while this was bad, it was bad in a fascinating way. Almost like something Tommy Wiseau would make. Okay, maybe not. Tommy Wiseau as Dracula would have been a lot more entertaining.

I click on the next episode.

Episode 2

We start with another framing device. This time Dracula is telling the story of his voyage to London to Sister Agatha while they’re playing chess. See, it’s symbolic, because they’re having a game of wits where they’re trying to outsmart each other! Okay, to be honest, I have no idea what Sister Agatha is trying to do. I guess Moffat is too clever for me.

Sister Agatha asks Dracula how he got to England. He tells her that he went on a ship. Inexplicably, this is not the end of that, but he proceeds to tell her about everything that happened on the ship, including conversations between characters that he wasn’t there for. Maybe he was listening at their doors.

I sense impending doom when I realize that this boat journey is going to take up the entire episode. In the book, it only took up a few pages, not that that matters.

Rather than staying in his coffin in the hold during the day, as he does in the book (not that that matters), Dracula mingles with the passengers. When Sister Agatha expresses surprises at that, he comments on how stupid it would be to stay in his coffin in the hold. You know, more adaptations should have lines about how stupid the source material is. It makes you look so smart.

How does Dracula avoid the sunlight during the day, though? Never fear, he simply spits out a pall of fog that surrounds the ship at all times and blocks out the sunlight, because I guess that’s a power he has. Like his wearing of other creatures’ skin, it’s not one he ever uses again, though. He tells Sister Agatha, “Everywhere you go, always take the weather with you.” Because referencing songs from a hundred years in the future is apparently also a power that he has.

We are introduced to the other passengers, who are a surprisingly diverse bunch. I can’t get too excited about this, however, as I know that they are all going to die. One of the passengers is an Indian doctor who has encountered the undead in the past. That would probably make for a more interesting story than this one, but then again, I don’t really want Moffat to tell it, so I don’t know why I’m complaining.

Dracula starts killing off crew and passengers one by one. I keep expecting the show to cut back to the chess game, with him telling Sister Agatha, “To make a long story short, I killed them all.”

The passengers begin to fear a killer on board, but never seem to suspect Dracula, who plays them against each other. They also discover that they’re all travelling to England at the behest of the same mysterious benefactor, who of course is Dracula, using a pseudonym. Because he hand-picked all of them for the special qualities he would gain from drinking their blood or something. It is way more convoluted than it needs to be. Is Moffat capable of writing a protagonist who is not an arrogant white man too clever for everyone around him? We may never know...

Throughout the episode there’s references to an unseen invalid staying in cabin 9. It turns out to be Sister Agatha, whom Dracula has been steadily draining. The chess game is just a hallucination that he induces in her while he drinks her blood. What a tweest!

Just like in the previous episode, the framing device is dropped about two-thirds through and we are now seeing the story in present tense. Dracula frames Sister Agatha as being the mystery killer, but she manages to reveal that he is a vampire just as she is about to get hanged by the crew. They manage to fend him off, but not before a few more characters die by being incredibly stupid.

One of the characters is a young English lord who just got married to a rich heiress, but is secretly having an affair with an African man pretending to be his servant. I can never remember his name, so I call him Gaylord (I’m allowed to make jokes like this). Gaylord is Dracula’s new business partner and he betrays the rest of the humans, because he thinks Dracula is his BFF and values his skills as a businessman. As it turns out, Dracula only chose Gaylord because of his wife’s wealth. Now that he has killed her, her money goes to Gaylord, and by draining Gaylord, it goes to Dracula. I was unaware that being someone’s business partner entitles you to inherit all their money after their death, so I assume that Dracula acquires people’s money by drinking their blood, just like he acquires their skills and attributes.

Sister Agatha assumes command over the ship, using her divine nun powers, I guess, and she prepares for Dracula to return and finish off the rest of the humans. I get bored and finish a chapter in a book I was reading earlier.

Eventually Sister Agatha blows up the ship to prevent Dracula from ever reaching England, which they keep referring to as “the New World”. That’s not what that term means, but who cares at this point? Dracula, encased in one of his boxes, sinks to the bottom of the ocean, only to break out and walk the rest of the way to England along the ocean floor. There he is greeted by cars and helicopters and someone who looks like Sister Agatha, but wearing modern clothes. What a tweest!  Did it take him a hundred years to break out of his casket, or is this like The Village, where we were in modern times all along? The episode ends here, so I guess I’ll have to watch the next one to find out.

I am curious to see this stupidity unfold, but not sure I can take any more right now. But my wife applies some peer pressure, and I put on the final episode. Pray for me!

Episode 3

The previous two episodes were pretty bad, yes, but mostly in a way I can handle and even laugh at. They have not at all prepared me for what I am about to witness.

This episode doesn’t have a framing device, which makes me wonder why we bothered with those in the other two.

The Sister Agatha clone turns out to be her great-grandniece, Zoe. So it’s like Back to the Future where people keep having relatives who look exactly like them. Except Back to the Future is a comedy, and this is meant to be taken seriously.

Dracula escapes from the Anti-Dracula Brigade on the beach and breaks into some poor woman’s home after killing her husband and stuffing him in the fridge. I’m not sure if this is meant to be funny or scary. It ends up being neither. Dracula kills the woman as well, after lecturing her for taking all her modern-day luxuries for granted. Social commentary, I guess?

We are introduced to Seward, a young medical student who makes up for his lack of personality with a creepy obsession with his friend, a vapid, selfish party girl. Yes, this is Lucy Westenra. I found her a likable character in the novel. Not that that matters. I call this Lucy a slut, only for Lucy to make a comment on slut-shaming, which makes me feel bad. The irony is that I’m pretty sure we’re meant to see Lucy as slutty and shallow.

We’re also introduced to Quincey. He’s a douchebag. In the novel he was kind, brave and heroic. Not that that... whatever.

Seward is contacted by the Anti-Dracula Brigade, which is actually called the Jonathan Harker Foundation, but I prefer Anti-Dracula Brigade. It was formed by Sister Agatha’s relatives and Mina Murray with the goal to find Dracula and then to keep him alive to study him. I honestly would have thought that Mina would want Dracula dead, after he terrorized her and murdered her fiance, rather than sticking him in a cage for science, but it’s not like character motivations have to make sense. After all, this is Moffat, bitch!

Van Helsing explains to her students that Dracula was in suspended animation for over a hundred years at the bottom of the ocean until she accidentally woke him by sticking her fingers in his mouth, which allowed him to draw blood and be renewed. She doesn’t explain why her Anti-Dracula Brigade consists of medical students, rather than experts in their fields. She also doesn’t explain why he didn’t grow old again, like he was at the start of episode 1, after not having had anything to eat for over 120 years.

Dracula has been caught and is contained in a cell at the Brigade’s headquarters. I honestly don’t remember how that happened. Did they forget to show us that or did I just black out? Both seem like likely options. The cell contains what I assume is a Kindle, to keep Dracula occupied. Van Helsing comes to talk to him, and he scoffs at the idea of a woman being in charge. She tells him that he slept through the women’s rights movement. I am paralyzed with fear that Moffat is going to attempt to explain women’s rights to me. Why would God test me like this? My relief knows no bounds when the characters change the subject immediately. God is good after all.

This reprieve doesn’t last long. My faith is once again tested when I am forced to witness one of the most idiotic scenes I have ever had the misfortune to watch on screen. It begins when Renfield is brought in. I know that a Dracula adaptation turning silly when Renfield is introduced is not unusual, but Moffat always strives to exceed expectations of ridiculousness. In this version Renfield is Dracula’s lawyer, working for the same firm that he hired 120 years ago when Jonathan was their representative. They have been Skyping, using what I thought was a Kindle, but turns out to be a proper tablet. It wasn’t supposed to be connected to the internet, but all Dracula had to do was guess the WiFi password. Which was his own name.

I cannot deal with this. This scene has broken me. I am a broken man. I cry out in anguish and despair, for what else can I do? My wife, who has gone to the kitchen to get herself a drink, comes to see if I am okay. I am not. I may never be okay again. Moffat has marred my soul forever.

Renfield argues that the Anti-Dracula Brigade is keeping Dracula against his will and that he hasn’t actually done anything illegal, so they are forced to set him free. On the way out, Dracula finds Seward’s phone and uses it to meet up with Lucy. There’s also something about Van Helsing having cancer and drinking some of Dracula’s blood in the hopes that it will cure her. I don’t really care about this, but it’s important to the plot.

There’s a time-skip of a few months. Lucy is engaged to Quincey, but still sneaks off regularly for dates with Dracula where she lets him feed off her. I suspect that this is Moffat’s attempt at making the character more feminist. You see, instead of just passively being attacked by Dracula in her sleep at night, she actively goes out to find him and chooses to be drained by him! This does not make her a better character. Really, it just makes her seem stupid as well as callous, since she doesn’t give a damn about any of Dracula’s other victims who don’t give him consent to drink their blood.

There is a very annoying reference to the novel when a vampire child calls Lucy “Bloofer Lady”. Like the wine line, it sounds more stupid every time the show repeats it. Also, the vampire kid shows up in one more scene before Dracula kills him. Glad he served a point.

Dracula finally drains Lucy. Her family holds a funeral, thinking that she’s dead. But as she’s been infected with vampirism, she is fully conscious while she is being cremated. So we get to watch her burn alive, screaming in pain all the while. Hey, did I mention that Lucy is played by a black actress? Remember in season 10 of Doctor Who when something terrible would happen to Bill Potts every other episode, like having a hole shot through her chest or being turned into a Cyberman? Now, I’m not saying that Moffat enjoys having horrifying things happen to his black female characters... but I’m not not saying it either.

Lucy escapes from her coffin and takes revenge on the crematorium workers. During this scene we only see her reflection, in which she looks normal, which makes it painfully obvious that this is only how she sees herself, and in reality she’s going to be revealed to be horribly burned. The show plays coy with this for an annoyingly long time.

Van Helsing, still dying of cancer, breaks out of the hospital with help from Seward and they go visit Dracula in his flat. Yes, Dracula has a flat. It’s not hidden or anything. It’s even listed in the phone book. Look, it’s almost over, so who cares?

Lucy shows up as well and after more pointless build-up, we finally get to see her real appearance, which, surprise, surprise, is horribly burned. She is oblivious to this, because vampires’ reflections are weird in a way that is never really explained. Dracula sees himself in the mirror as old and decaying, whereas Lucy sees herself as being still pretty. I don’t know what it means, apart from that Moffat doesn’t understand vampire mythology and feels that it needs to be made more interesting.

Seward encourages Lucy to take a selfie, which reveals her true face. Why the rules for cameras are different from the rules for mirrors is not explained either. Lucy breaks down crying because being ugly is a fate worse than death. Seward tells her that he still wants to kiss her, because I guess this was meant to be the message? Something about true love? She begs him for death. They kiss and he mercy-kills her. In the book the people who loved Lucy had to kill her to save her immortal soul and to protect the world from the monster she had become, which has a bit more emotional resonance than saving her from having to be ugly for eternity. But, you know. NOT THAT THAT MATTERS.

Van Helsing sends Seward away for her final confrontation with Dracula, because she has him figured out. Having the memories of her great-aunt Agatha within her, which she gained from drinking Dracula’s blood, which he gained from drinking Agatha’s blood, she exposits that Dracula isn’t actually harmed by sunlight or crosses. He just fears death more than anything and so he doesn’t like the sight of the cross which represents someone being willing to die. Okay, but that doesn’t explain his aversion to sunlight! What does that have to do with death? She also spouts off some nonsense about how his fear of death originated from being the weakest in a family of noblemen and soldiers. Um, Moffat? You do realize that Dracula is based on Vlad the Impaler, right? Someone who was known for, well, impaling his enemies? But, again, it’s almost over, so let’s just get on with it!

Van Helsing tells Dracula that because she is dying of cancer, she is accomplishing the one thing he is afraid of doing, which somehow convinces him to kill himself by drinking her cancerous blood, which is poison to him. To make this experience painless for her, he creates an illusion for her where they’re, um, tenderly making love? What the hell? Is that what all their previous scenes were leading up to? Okay, if you say so.

Wait, is that the real reason why Moffat made Van Helsing a woman? Screw you, Moffat! Screw you so much!

Credits roll. This ends one of the worst television viewing experiences I’ve ever had. I go on YouTube to rewatch Sherlock Is Garbage, and Here’s Why. It is deeply cathartic.

#bbc dracula #flipping moffat

[clumsyclifford]

if you're still taking prompts “i haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.” with emo lashton maybe? so perhaps emo lashton having a good day i guess 😅 i love them so much sorry if you want just change this to normal lashton 🙈 -fiancee

emo lashton having a GOOD DAY i think you’re messing with the entire natural order of the world fiancee i dont even think this is legally allowed but i tried my best for you. also this fic includes a secret shoutout to @reveriesofawriter & her long way home theory so.......yeah

-

The thing about feeling bad is that Ashton always forgets that it ends. 

When it’s him, it’s so easy to lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel in favor of shutting his eyes and drowning in the darkness of it, sinking as deep as he can go until the pit of his stomach reaches the floor, until the soles of his feet hit rock bottom. Under the heavy weight of bad days, bad weeks, it always slips Ashton’s mind that it won’t always be this dismal. There’s an all-encompassing fact to his depression, so that when it sinks its teeth in it swallows Ashton up whole, and he thinks this is it, there’s only this, it’ll be just like this for the rest of my life, and it’s in those times that Ashton wonders if he shouldn’t just maybe cut that timeline short.

But he has to grit his teeth and bear it, because that’s really not an option for him. So he shoulders his own weight, and then one day he finds himself cracking a smile at a funny joke, and the realization strikes like a hammer, that this is the end of the darkness, for now. The tunnel has finally opened up, and the sun is starting to shine again, and Ashton feels dizzy with freedom.

The feeling of floating after being bogged down by the absolute bitch that is depression is relieving, no doubt. But there’s nothing compared to watching Luke get that feeling.

Ashton recognizes the signs of a crash as soon as it happens. Normally maybe he wouldn’t, but he’s so attuned to Luke, these days especially, that when something shifts, Ashton feels it. It’s small at first, and gets worse; Luke doesn’t really talk when they have dinner, and then he just stops coming to dinner. Ashton sees him around the house less and less, and makes a habit of knocking on his bedroom door just to hear the monotonous, “Yeah,” just to be sure Luke’s still inside, breathing. There’s no use trying to prise Luke from his misery — Ashton knows how listless Luke can be, how heavy he must feel — and all Ashton can do is tap subtle reminders into the doorframe that he’s here, if Luke needs him. 

(One way or another, Luke always needs him. Selfishly, Ashton is glad, because God knows he needs Luke more than is probably good for him, and this way it’s at least a two-way street.)

In the dark fog clouding the house, Ashton rigidly maintaining his role of caretaker, they both forget their plans.

“Alex.”

Alex's smile becomes tinged with uncertainty. “Ashton!”

“You’re at our house,” Ashton says slowly, racking his brain for a reason why.

Alex furrows his brow. He’s brought his guitar, Ashton notices, and it hits like a fucking freight train.

“Aren’t we writing?” Alex asks, and Ashton slaps his palm against his forehead.

“Fuck. Shit, we so are. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I totally forgot. I’m so sorry, man.”

Alex grins. “No problem. I’ve been there. You want me to go, or…?”

“No, no, you’re here already. Sorry. Come in.” Ashton glances behind him as Alex crosses the threshold and the door swings shut. Luke is in his room. Luke’s been in his room all day, and for most of yesterday too. Fuck. If he’d remembered he would have rescheduled with Alex, but now Alex is here, and Ashton likes to hang out with him even if they can’t get much done. Besides, Ashton likes writing with Alex.

It just feels wrong without Luke, but — whatever. Life has to go on. 

“Let me just,” Ashton says, feeling frazzled. Alex laughs.

“You’re high-strung today,” he observes, and Ashton runs a hand through his hair, feeling kind of embarrassed.

“Yeah. Uh, maybe. Sorry. Let me grab Luke, um, if I can.” He bites his lip. “He might not want to…he’s kind of, um.” Ashton trails off, but Alex picks up the thread anyway, and nods soberly.

“It’s cool,” he says.

“I’ll just check,” Ashton says, and leaves Alex in the living room, setting up his guitar, while he disappears to the back of the house to drum his fingers against Luke’s door.

“Luke?”

Luke pulls the door open, and Ashton breathes a sigh of relief without meaning to. Luke’s in the cotton t-shirt and joggers that he sleeps in, and his hair is unruly. Ashton resists the urge to reach out and fix it, and then thinks fuck it and reaches out anyway. He’s missed seeing Luke. There are dark circles under his eyes, and if Ashton peers further into the room he can spy Luke’s laptop open on the bed and his songwriting notebook next to it.

Luke says, “Alex is here. I know, I heard.” He leans into Ashton’s touch when Ashton rearranges his hair, and Ashton leaves his hand cupping Luke’s crown even after he’s finished fixing it up.

“You wanna join us?” he offers quietly. “It’s fine if you don’t. Alex will —”

“No, I will,” Luke sighs. “I should.” 

“Don’t do us any favors,” Ashton says, joking but also serious. “Honestly, Luke.”

“I’m coming,” Luke says firmly. He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palm — almost childishly, Ashton thinks — and says, “Give me a minute to, like.” He gestures vaguely, kind of towards himself.

“Okay,” Ashton says, because he knows too well how it feels to be babied when he’s set his mind to something, and it’s too frustrating for words. Luke is an adult. If he says he’s fine, Ashton has to trust that.

“He’s coming,” Ashton relays when he returns to the living room. Alex is sitting on the couch, messing around. Ashton gets snatches of familiar tunes, but Alex switches it up before he can put a name to them.

“Is everything okay?” Alex asks. Ashton shakes his head, smiling wryly.

“That’s the wrong question,” he says, and exhales loudly. “Everything will be okay. We’ll be fine.”

Alex gives a short nod. “I get it,” he says, and Ashton believes him.

Luke appears then, bundled up in a hoodie that once belonged to Ashton and the same joggers. “Hey,” he greets Alex, with a smile that doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“No worries, man,” Alex says, hopping to his feet to pull Luke into a hug. Ashton half expects Luke to jerk away, but Luke sinks into it, and Alex maybe hugs him tighter than usual. 

When they break apart, Alex says, “There’s something I want to show you guys, actually. I forgot I had this here, but — it’s all in my 5SOS book.”

“Your 5SOS book?” Ashton repeats, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Luke sits beside him, and Alex stares at them for a moment before shaking his head.

“You know I’m, like, a grown-up, right? I shouldn’t be forced to sit on the floor with you spry motherfuckers.” Despite this, he eases himself to the carpet, stretching his legs out next to Ashton’s knee. He retrieves a familiar notebook from inside his guitar case — Ashton recognizes it from past writing sessions. “My 5SOS notebook,” Alex explains, waving it at them. “Where I put all the stuff I write with you guys.”

“Aw, he has a notebook just for us,” Ashton coos, nudging Luke gently with his shoulder. Luke huffs a tired laugh.

“I’m organized,” Alex says pointedly. Ashton grins. “Anyway, I was looking through it when you went to get Luke, and it has all the stuff from our first writing sessions ever, remember that? Five hundred years ago, or something?”

“Something like that,” Luke says. Ashton rests a hand on Luke’s knee, almost unconsciously.

“Long Way Home,” Alex muses, and hands off the notebook to Ashton. “You almost made me cry with that one.”

“What?” Luke says dimly. The page is covered in scribbles, many of them crossed out, and it’s faded with time and wear. Still, Ashton can make out Alex’s messy handwriting — Long Way Home (?) across the top, and underneath, (love song to the boys).

“Not in a bad way,” Alex says. “It was just — I don’t know. It’s like watching your kid sibling enter high school. I’d already done it, and seeing you guys do it — I mean, I knew you’d be a smash. I wished I’d had someone telling me, you know, take it slow. You don’t need to grow up so fast.” Ashton studies the page, Luke peering over his shoulder at the words. REMEMBER: SLOW THE FUCK DOWN! it says under the song title, and immediately beneath that, no one let these boys grow up before they’re ready. “I know it’s your song, but I like to think of it as my song to you,” Alex says, and when Ashton looks up at him he’s grinning shamelessly, but there’s not a hint of insincerity on his face.

“You wrote this about us?” Luke repeats, incredulous, running his fingers over the page as reverently as if it were the Bible, instead of some ratty ten-year-old notebook.

“Kind of,” Alex says. “You wrote it about yourself. I just helped.”

“The bridge,” Ashton remembers. “We’re just taking it slow. You wrote that part. You fucking sneak.”

Luke shakes his head, and when Ashton turns to look he’s smiling. This one isn’t like the one from before; it goes far past his eyes, pulling up every part of his face, loosening muscles that have probably been stagnating for weeks. 

“I just thought you might want to know,” Alex says. “I played it for the band — mine, I mean — and the moment they heard it, they knew. But, you know. We get it. We got it then, and we get it now.” A hint of timidity now curves itself into Alex’s smile. It’s not a familiar look. “I don’t think you really did take it slow, actually. Ignored your own music and shot straight to fame, but whatever, it’s none of my business.”

Luke actually laughs. The sound goes straight to Ashton’s heart, gives it wings, eases an ache he hadn’t even really known he’d had, and the energy of the room shifts. Ashton thinks maybe he’s the only one who feels it, but it’s definitely different.

“We’re taking it slow now,” Luke offers, sweeping a hand around the room. The other hand settles on top of Ashton’s, on his knee. Unthinkingly, Ashton flips his palm up, threading their fingers together. “Just took us some time to realize we needed it.” 

“Well, better late than never.”

“Yeah,” Luke says. It seems mostly to himself.

“So,” Ashton says. “Not that that wasn’t super sentimental, and I will be needing photos to send to Mike and Calum, but I feel like we should maybe try to write?”

“Yeah, okay. Give it back.” Alex snatches his notebook back, flips to a blank page, pulls out a pencil.

“Let me grab my guitar,” Luke says, and pushes himself to his feet, abruptly severing the connection between their hands. Alex’s eyes travel around the room, but Luke’s guitar is missing from its usual spot on the wall.

“It’s in his room,” Ashton explains. Luke drags his fingers across Ashton’s scalp as he leaves, a tingling trail in their wake. 

“He’s been pretty bad, huh,” Alex says in a low voice. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so…”

“Listless?” Ashton suggests bitterly. “I know. He’s been bad. But that was good. I haven’t seen him smile like that in ages.”

Alex shakes his head. “I was so worried that this would happen to you,” he says. His tone is almost mournful. “Maybe I should have done something more, I just thought —”

“Dude, stop,” Ashton says. “There’s really no point. You’re not responsible for us. As much as you probably wish you were. We made these decisions, and this is our life. It’s not all bad. It’s not even mostly bad.” At Alex’s skeptical expression, Ashton rectifies, “It’s usually better. You caught us at a rough time.” 

“I’m sorry,” Alex says.

“Don’t be sorry. Fuck, man, just don’t be sorry for anything.” It’s pointless, is the thing, and Ashton had meant what he said. Alex isn’t responsible for their growing up. Nobody is but themselves, and — and despite everything, despite the burning, piercing anguish that sometimes balloons in his chest, threatening to drown him, if he could go back he wouldn’t really change anything. There are downs, and they are low; but there are also ups, and those are too high to surrender. Ashton knows he’s lucky. If he’s going to be depressed, he may as well be doing the job of his dreams.

“I’m smarter than you, you know,” Alex says, with a hint of a mocking smile teasing at his lips. “And so much older.”

“More susceptible to damage, you mean. Let’s see you crowdsurf nowadays, grandpa.”

“I’m seriously gonna fucking poison you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I know where you live, you —” 

“That’s nothing, I could gather your whole band —”

“Just because your band fucked off to Australia —” 

“Alright, lads,” Luke interjects, returning with his guitar and the notebook Ashton had seen on his bed. “Enough fighting over me. I assume that’s what was happening.”

“If it was, I think I was winning,” Alex says immediately.

“Doubt it,” Luke says. “Not likely to leave Ashton that easily, am I?”

Alex inclines his head. He knows when he’s been beaten, evidently. “I surrender,” he says.

Ashton looks at Luke, and Luke is deliberately not looking at him, pink staining his cheeks. But the corners of his mouth are tugging themselves unwillingly into a smile, and Ashton breathes out and resists the urge to kiss Luke’s cheek, because he can see the sun coming out, finally, and it’s going to be a beautiful fucking day from here on out.

#uhh i really don't know what tws to put on this #if any?? #depression tw #but i think thats a given cos its. u know. emo lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #lashton #lashton fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #emo lashton #ALEX GASKARTH #hes in it baby!!! lil sneak peek in case ur reading the tags before u read the fic #shoutout to meghna and maggie for the long way home thing #that i 100% stole from you guys #queueing this so idk when itll post #but hopefully by the time it does ill have posted something non-emo lashton in the interim #cos this is frankly getting ridiculous #q #anonymous #ask #answered

[k7l4d4]

Midnight Striga: Owl House/Fairy Tail Crossover Episode 1 Part 2

Hello everybody, time for another part of my Fairy Tail/Owl House Crossover, Midnight Striga!! Hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

“So, since when can humans do magic?” Eda asked with a sniff, shooting a wry grin towards her passenger.

Luz arched an eyebrow, visibly impressed. “Since always. I’ve kind of gathered by now that you aren’t human, and that very few, if any, of the people here are human either. But I’m getting off topic already, why are you asking?” She leaned forward, expecting an answer.

“HA!” Eda barked in humor at Luz’s boldness. “Kid, it’s been an accepted fact since forever that humans can’t do magic. I think that warrants a little curiosity, doesn’t it?”

Luz huffed, tilting her head back and forth in thought. “Eh, fair enough. I have no idea where you got your info that humans can’t do magic, but since I’m guessing this place is pretty closed off from human contact, info from outside of it falls through the cracks. I can give you a more informed answer when we land, but the long and skinny of it is that every living being has some potential for magic, but not everything has the power needed to actually do anything with that potential. I’m one of those that can.”

Eda blinked, glancing up in thought. That… was more than what she thought she was gonna get. In the short term, this kid basically more or less flat out confirmed that what witches know about humans is about as accurate as a portrait made by a blind man with no sense of touch. Purely guesswork based off of extremely limited input, in other words. Still, while this may upset some of her plans, this girl had some serious moves back there. She still had no clue what exactly she did, but it was impressive! And- what was that thumping she felt on the back of her head?

“-da, Eda, Eda, Eda,” With each repetition of the Witch’s name, Luz lightly thumped her knuckles against the back of her head. What could she say, when Luz got bored, she tended to get a little mischievous.

“GAH!” With a yelp at the small but incessant pain, Eda shot Luz a quick glance of annoyance. “Titans, kid, I’ve only got the one head! What do you want?”

Luz shot Eda a Cheshire grin, before subtly pointing down. “I think we’re here, if the fact your staff stopped and has been hovering over this place on its own is anything to go by.”

As Eda glanced down, she flushed in embarrassment as, yes, they were hovering over her house. Man, she really got sucked into her own head there, didn’t she? Eda, ignoring Luz’s snickering, guided Owlbert down for a landing, hopping off as they touched ground.

As Luz finally got her laughter under control, she noticed something Eda had left behind on the staff: her hand. While admittedly curious about how it was still moving while visibly detached, and with no apparent magical connection to Eda’s body, Luz decided discretion was the better idea. Lightly snatching the hand off the staff, she sauntered up to Eda, and very much deliberately tapped on her shoulder. When the older woman turned back towards her in question, Luz cheerfully grinned and held up the missing appendage.

Flushing once again at having missed the fact that she had lost a limb again, Eda gratefully took her hand back, snapping it back in place upon her wrist. Deciding now was the best point to start saving face, Eda pulled up a smirk, gesturing to the door. “I was wondering where that went. Anyways kid, I’d like to welcome you to my place. It may not seem like much, but I’ve got a killer security system!”

Luz was skeptical. Not surprising, when you’ve been running as much as she has, it’s practically second nature after a while. But still, she couldn’t detect anything overtly magical with this house, as amazingly weird and bewilderingly breathtaking it may be, in a creepy shack in the woods sort of way, aside from that odd Door Knocker in the shape of an Owl’s face. A face that had just blinked.

“PASSWORD PLEASE!” It shrieked in what Luz could honestly say was the most annoying voice she had EVER heard in her life. Also, when did she raise her hand to punch?

Before she could attack the strange creature, Eda beat her to the point, jabbing her fingers into the Face’s eyes. “We don’t have time for your games, Hooty! Open up!”

“Fine! Jeez! You never let me have any fun, hoot.” The Face, Hooty apparently, complied in a much softer, but still irritating, voice, swinging the door open on its hinges without Eda touching it.

Stifling a snicker at the odd by-play between the two, Luz followed Eda into her home. The first thing she noticed was the massive piles of junk scattered about, an odd mix of toys, books, tools, clothing, anything you could possibly find legally in either a sleepy town in the countryside or a bustling major city. The second thing she noticed was how prominent the Owl Aesthetic of the place was, with Owl themed decorations covering pretty much everything that wasn’t cluttered by Eda’s junk. Yet, in spite of the messy, dysfunctional feel of it all… Luz could honestly say that she found the place almost like a home, just from the energy of it all.

Smirking, Eda preened under Luz’s silent awe of her house. “Yeah, this place is great. A nice spot to hide away from the pressures of life.” She plopped down onto her couch with a content sigh. “Also the cops. Hmm, and also exes. Ha!”

Luz cracked a smile at the joke. Okay, it probably wasn’t really a joke, but it was still funny! “I can’t say I’ve had issues with the third one, but I’m very familiar with the first two. So, you’ve got questions for me?” She settled against the counter, relaxed, but ready to spring if things went ugly. She didn’t really expect them to, but you could never be too careful sometimes, especially with a near-total stranger, battle bond or not.

Eda leaned forward, eyes sharp. Now they were in familiar territory. “Questions, and a small proposal, if you’re up to it. Firstly, just what kind of magic were you using back there?”

“Huh, getting right in it, eh?” Luz grinned, pleased at the opportunity to brag- she meant inform! Inform someone about her skills. “At the start, that was what we in the bizz call Molding Magic. In my case specifically, Light-Make Magic.”

Eda blinked, not understanding. “Okay, gonna need a little more than that kid.” She grinned. “But I will say this, I think I like where this is going.”

Luz snorted, agreeing with the woman privately, and started complying. “Well, to simplify it, Molding Magic is a form of Magic that can be applied both for combat and utility.” Luz made the same gesture Eda had seen earlier, pressing her closed fist against an open palm, soft light building at the point of contact. “Molding Magic allows one to gather magical energy, and shape it into different forms based on the element or material used. In my case, I use light.” With that said, she pulled her closed fist away, revealing a miniature sculpture of Eda, seemingly made entirely of light held into a still image. Luz smirked at Eda’s look of amazement. “Anything I can visualize, I can make, and the better I can visualize it, the more powerful and stable it turns out.”

Eda was stunned. This? This was a form of magic she had never even heard or dreamed of. And, if she was reading between the lines right, while it may not be common for humans who can use magic, and wasn’t that still a strange thought, it wasn’t truly rare by any means. The ability to make ANYTHING you can think of, so long as you can spare the energy? Eda could already think of all the ways she could’ve used something like that over the years.

“Okay, since when have humans been able to do something like that!?” Eda seriously wanted to know. If she could figure out how to replicate a spell like that, it would make some of her escapes far easier later on.

Luz shrugged. “I don’t know. A few hundred years maybe? I mean, the base form, Molding Magic itself, is pretty ancient, but most modern variants have only been around for a few centuries at most. Like, it’s older, but not ancient.” What else could she say? Luz may have a serious interest in magical history and theory, but she wasn’t an actual scholar.

Eda slumped. That wasn’t the best news, but it wasn’t really the worst either. Still, if humans have had proper magic for centuries, then the info the Boiling Isles had about humanity was even more off than she had thought. “Damn. I won’t ask you about those other spells and stuff you were slinging back there. They didn’t look similar to what you started with, but they seemed closer to magic that I know of at least.” Her gaze brightened, lips curving up into an excited grin. “But hot dog, what you were doing back there was impressive, kid. So, you want to know more about what’s going on?”

Luz nodded, serious. “Absolutely. For starters, where am I?”

Eda smirked, glad she had anticipated that initial question, though her own made it so she should probably adjust her prepared answer a little. “You, my new friend, are in the scenic Demon Realms, specifically, the Boiling Isles! A colossal collection of Islands joined by the corpse of a long-dead magical being known only as the Titan. For centuries, it’s been accepted among Witches that we alone had magic, and humans who we knew of, but knew nothing real about beyond our own assumptions, did not. Another common belief was that the Demon Realm was the source of all human myths and legends from our world seeping into yours, but if you guys have actually got magic, that’s probably false. Or, at least, it’s less true than what we had believed for so long.” Eda slumped, suddenly drained. It made sense, in her mind, to feel tired. Sure, she was excited, but having your entire understanding of how the world actually works going under a sudden shift wasn’t easy.

Luz nodded, processing the information. “Okay, so I’m in another dimension primarily populated by demons and magical beings that refer to themselves as Witches. Got it. Do you have any questions about my world?”

Eda quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, kid? No, not really. While having my whole world view undergo a massive shift was fun, I’m not really a scholar, so this doesn’t affect me all that much.” She bolted up, suddenly brimming with energy. “What does affect me, though, is what you and I can do for each other!”

Luz smirked, slightly confused, but mostly excited about where this could go. “Oh?”

“Yup. But first, you’ll probably want to meet my roommate.” Eda grinned. She just knew she was gonna love the kid’s reaction. Turning towards the stairs, she shouted. “Hey King! Get your keister down here!!” Out of view from the kid’s eyes, Eda subtly twirled up a spell, distorting the sounds of King’s voice and footsteps as he descended.

“WHO DARES DISTURB I?” Eda smirked at the human’s reaction, seeing her shift into a battle stance at King’s admittedly intimidating (at the moment) voice, and the perception-shifting shadows adding to the illusion, she just knew this was gonna be funny. “The king of Demons!?” As King finally stomped into view, clad in his bath gear and clutching a Rubber Ducky, the spells having worn out and revealing his true size and voice, she was not disappointed.

“QUE LINDO!!” At the adorable sight of the little doggy demon, all of Luz’s hard-earned self-control decided that surrendering to her adoration of cuteness was preferable to keeping her tough girl image. Abandoning her attack stance, she rushed to the skull-headed cutie-pie of a demon, smothering him in cuddles. “Who’s a good boy? Is it you? Is it you!?”

“N-No, NO!! I Don’t know who your good boy is!?” Squirming in the strange individual’s grasp, King turned to his friend, roommate, and (even if he didn’t like to admit it) foster mother. “Eda! Who is this monster!?”

Eda laughed, genuinely enjoying the sight of the small demon struggling in the human’s grasp. “Okay kid, you can drop him. He’s not really fond of the whole cuddling thing.” As Luz grudgingly released King, Eda continued. “This, King, is Luz. She’s going to help with our little Warden problem, if you know what I mean.”

As King finished dusting himself off, he finished processing Eda’s words. “Oh. Hooray!”

Luz was far less enthused. “Whoa whoa wait, since when did I agree to anything?”

Eda chuckled. “Well, kid, if you ever wanna get back to the Human Realm again, I’m the only one you can do it through, as I’ve got the only known portal there.”

Luz grumbled, but didn’t challenge the claim. Smart girl.

Ed decided that it was time to get into the nitty gritty.

“King, here,” She began, motioning to the demon in question, conjuring up the story of his “fall from grace” as she talked. “Was once the mighty and powerful King of Demons. Feared and admired by all. Until, one day, the Evil Warden Wrath stole his crown of power, reducing him to… this.” She finished, motioning to the sight of King chasing his own tail.

Luz’s love of cuteness took over. “You mean this little guy?” She cooed, scooping King up into her arms. He tolerated it for a second, then flailed enough to break free.

Eda grunted, leaning against her wall. “Yup. We need you to help us break into the vault the Crown’s being stored in, and in exchange, we’ll get you home.”

“We’re your only option!” King piped up.

Eda sent a fond smirk at the little demon, before continuing. “And besides.” Eda pulled King up to Luz’s face. “Can you really say no to this face?” Eda cooed in a slightly babying tone.

As King’s eyes widened as he realized what was happening, he yelled, “No! Don’t encourage her!!”

Fighting her impulse to agree immediately in the face of cuteness, Luz mulled it all over. She was stuck here for the moment, and she honestly didn’t have anything better to do. Plus, if anything went rotten with this, she could always defend herself…

Luz beamed. “When do we start, and where do we go?”

Eda grinned, happy that Luz was onboard. “Now, and somewhere super fun!” She promised, giving Luz a double thumbs up.

#the owl house #owl house au #owl house crossover #fairy tail #fairy tail au #fairy tail crossover #luz noceda #eda clawthorne #king the owl house #magic

[katiesthoughtson]

22 Lessons I’ve Learned in 22 Years

In honor of my impending 22nd birthday, I decided to do one of my favorite things and self-reflect. I’ve complied this list of some important lessons I’ve learned over the past 22 years. Please enjoy.

1.      Just do the thing.

 There are so many experiences I’ve wanted to do that I’ve put qualifications on – ‘I’ll do that when I’m older/fitter/more confident.’ I’ve also had the habit of thinking that I can’t do something because it’s outside of a trend or an aesthetic that I’m trying to achieve. I’m a little bit ashamed to even admit that last statement, but it’s the truth.

I now try to keep myself conscious of when I’m having those thoughts and reframing them. There are, naturally, things that I have to save money or wait until I’m legally allowed to do something. However, for the most part, I can do these things now. I can wear that dress or those shorts now. I can learn what an IRA and an ETF and a mutual bond are now. I can be happy now. Not when I’m older or in a new city or achieve a certain goal. I can be happy now.

2.      Doing things alone is not unbearable and can even be fun.

One of my most vivid memories of my Disney College Program was my first alone trip to a Disney Park. It was something I put on my bucket list, so I figured I had to get it done. I boarded the infamous CP bus and headed to Epcot, promising myself the entire way, like a mantra, that I could leave as soon as I felt uncomfortable and stopped having fun. I could enter the park, walk around, and leave, if that were all I wanted to do.

I ended up spending almost the entire day at Epcot, thoroughly enjoying my own company and taking my sweet time exploring every nook of the World Showcase (my personal favorite activity during my Disney Days). I love being able to do things at my own pace. In a real twist of fate, I even got to the point where I would intentionally turn down plans with others to have a day to myself in the parks. I’ve tried to continue this practice outside of Walt Disney World – movies, restaurants, parks, shopping. And I’ve had fun doing it.

3.      Sticking to what I think is right is worth it in the end.

There are times, in all of our lives, when we are challenged between what we want to do and what others want us to do. It’s hard to stick to what you believe is right, the values that you hold deeply, in the face of adversity, but it’s well worth it. Keep at it.

4.    Some things simply don’t matter as much as I think they will.

a.      I’ve agonized over so many things – hard conversations and grades and mistakes at work – and honestly…they’ve almost always went better than anticipated. I’ve had hard conversations that have improved my relationships, not ruined everything like I feared. I honestly can’t remember most of my grades, especially from high school. I’ve spent weekends worrying about a mistake I might’ve made at work, just to come in on Monday and be told it wasn’t a big deal. Overthinking and I are close friends, but often, it’s very wrong.

5.      Most of the good things in life require risking some degree of failure.

There’s a lot of failure associated with putting yourself out there in search of the goals you want. It takes strings of bad dates and ghosts in order to find someone that you really connect with. It takes endless rejection letters and interview ghosts to find a job that works. Choosing the safer path, the path that offers less rejection and pain, might seem like a good choice, but it comes with the sacrifice of missing all the beautiful things that could result too.

6.      Mental healthcare is a very real necessity.

I’ve learned a lot about mental health since my initial discovery of the topic 4 years ago. Lately, I’ve been trying to reinforce mental healthcare in a proactive and reactive way. I have started to incorporate healthy behaviors in my daily routine, like meditation, yoga, and journaling. I have also started taking care of myself when I notice dips in my mental health. I used to have the terrible habit of telling myself that I could just push through it, but now, I stop and take care of the small things to genuinely try to feel better. I drink a glass of water, do something I enjoy, eat a snack. It is well worth it for me to take an hour to step aside, take care of myself, and get back to work, rather than keep trying to do things while my brain is screaming at me the whole time.

7.      Making one small positive change can go a long way.

This is another recent mental health tip I heard lately and it’s been so helpful, even in the short time it’s been in my practice. As soon as I notice my mood dip or my anxiety start to build, I change something in my physical environment to make things just 1% lighter. I might light a candle, change into comfier clothes, drink a smoothie, or listen to a favorite song. All of these engage my senses and make my environment a bit better. No, it’s not curing the mental illness, but it’s a mood booster in a small way and sometimes, that’s enough.

8.      Real friends grow with you. The friendship will not always feel the same because people change, but if you’re lucky, the friends will stay.

The friends that I currently have in my life are some of the longest friendships I’ve always had. After years of school with people moving or growing out of touch, this is the first time that I can look at my group of best friends and proudly say that I’ve known all of them for 3+ years. Naturally, we are not all the same people we were when we first met, but my friends and I have grown with each other through life’s challenges and successes. Our dynamics have shifted. The way we communicate has changed. But our friendship is still there and it’s beautiful.

9.      I have never regretted a learning opportunity – a good book, podcast, seminar, event, etc.

This is a true Ravenclaw trait right here, but I love learning. I have never regretted any opportunity to learn, even if it’s not in my particular fields of interest. I loved my general education requirements in college because they gave me so many opportunities to learn and become more well-rounded. I attended random on-campus seminars and learned so much, even when I walked in knowing nothing about the topic. Now, in my post-graduation days, I still try to find opportunities to learn with books and podcasts and I’ve never regretted any of it.

10.   There is no shame in making things easier (even if that requires sacrificing the aesthetic).

Literally this is just about wearing sweatpants and leggings. I used to feel that I always had to dress up or I’d be wasting the day, but I’ve had many, many productive, positive days while wearing leggings. It’s just easier.

11.   Things that are popular are popular because they’re good. There’s no point in not liking something just because it’s ‘popular.’ (I’m referring to Taylor Swift here.)

For a long time, I never liked to admit that I liked ‘popular’ things. I’ve been listening to Taylor Swift since elementary school, but finally admitted that I liked Taylor Swift last year. There’s no shame in liking the popular things because they’re popular for a reason – they’re good. (Side note: I’ve made and rekindled so many friendships thanks to Taylor Swift, so it’s also a great bonding experience.) So here I am – turning in my hipster card – and proudly proclaiming that I like Taylor Swift and Starbucks and white nail polish and all kinds of pop music and there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

12.   Setting boundaries over your time is essential.

I’ve learned that I need to stop having so many distractions. In particular, social media has sucked my time away. Setting time limits on my apps is one of the best changes I’ve made for myself and my time. I have 10 minutes on Twitter, 20 minutes on Instagram, and 25 minutes on TikTok a day. This has helped me be more mindful, instead of endlessly doomscrolling, and has given me a sense of control over my time again. How lovely.

13.   One break from routine will not ruin my progress.

Last night, I didn’t dry my hair before going to bed. I was tired after working out, hopped in the shower, and then went right to bed. My hair, albeit, was a mess this morning, but it didn’t ruin anything. A night without flossing isn’t the end of the world. My teeth will be okay. My habit will be okay. I can pick up right where I left off.

14.   Perhaps it’s all just about trial and error to discover what works for me.

I’ve had many expectations about how things would go – from internships to my career to dating – and been incredibly surprised by the reality. I had an ideal list of qualities for a romantic partner, only to go on a series of dates, and have to reconstruct the list entirely. I had to see how I actually fit with different people to determine what I was really looking for. The same goes with jobs. I’ve had plenty of jobs over the years and I’ve had to piece together what I like and dislike about each of them to inform my next moves. For example, after years of retail, I pined over a desk job. My current position is exactly that and yet, I’ve discovered that I kind of miss the busyness and the action. I never would’ve known that, however, if I didn’t try the alternative.

15.   I actually like being outdoors. 

This is a recent quarantine discovery. I spent my entire life thinking that I didn’t like being outside. It was even a joke among my family members – that I never went outside. You still probably won’t found me outside on extreme weather days, but I have found a love for a walk around a park, reading outside at sunset, or the refreshing feeling of walking through a rainstorm.

16.   Advocating for myself is hard and very uncomfortable and sometimes an upward battle, but it feels very empowering in the end.

It takes a while for some people to believe or trust you. It’s a hard process, especially when you know something is wrong, but others don’t see it. However, the persistence makes all the difference. It’s worth it to keep going until you find the support you deserve.

17.   Being in pain is never okay.

Another one of my bad habits was delaying treatment for pain, both physical and mental, for as long as I could. One of my goals in 2020 was to take care of my ailments as soon as they occur and it’s been such a relief. (I am incredibly privileged to have access to healthcare and a way to pay for it.) Instead of waiting until my symptoms leave me wiped out, I focus on prevention and helping myself when things only feel a little bad, instead of continuing to push until it was unbearable.

Also – if a doctor belittles or ignores your pain, leave. Just walk out of the office. Ignore them and find someone who does care. This quote comes directly from a doctor I spoke to last year, who after being ignored for an endless amount of time regarding my pain, hit me with this powerful statement and it’s stuck with me ever since. I’m incredibly grateful for her and her attention to my care.

18.   The beginning sucks.

During a transition, the beginning is not going to be easy. The first days in a new job are going to feel chaotic and overwhelming. The first days in a new city are going to feel lonely. With time, it always gets better. The beginning is only a temporary phase and I just need to adjust.

19.   Everyone is working at their own pace. I’m on my own pace and that’s okay. Things unfold as they are supposed to.

One of the most confusing things about being in your 20s, for me, is that everyone is at a completely different stage in their life. I find myself often comparing my progress in certain areas of life to my friends or people online, when we’re all on our own trajectory. Everything will come to me when it’s right and rushing the process wouldn’t help me. Patience is a virtue.

20.   Some people make me feel warm and fuzzy inside and those relationships are incredibly, profoundly meaningful.

My favorite feeling is when I leave someone after spending time with them or hang up the phone on a Facetime call and feel incredibly warm. I can’t stop smiling or replaying our conversation. It feels like I’m consumed with light. That’s the feeling that I want to nurture. I’m so happy there are people in my life who make me feel this way.

21.   “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”

I am often afraid of big decisions and making those leaps. Moving to Florida. Moving to Florida again. Switching majors. Applying to graduate school. Actually deciding to enroll in graduate school. I’ve been afraid of the unknowns involved in all of these big life changes, but did them anyway. I’m so grateful that I stuck through each of them, pushed through the fear, took care of myself in the transitions, and emerged better for it every time.

22.   I’m 22 and don’t actually know that much at all.

I feel a lot of ways about turning 22. I’m equal parts excited and intimated, but here we are. I’ve learned a lot in these past years and I know that I have so much more to learn. Who knows – maybe in the future, I’ll even look back at this list and disagree with these lessons. I’ll think back on this time in my life with a fond nostalgia, appreciating my naivety. But for now, all I can do is embrace what I think I know and keep moving forward. There’s a beauty to youthfulness, to not knowing what’s going on, to stumbling through life, and I don’t want to miss any of it.

So here’s to another chapter of life. I’ll make the wrong decision sometimes. I’ll make the right decision other times. There will be curveballs and winding roads and pain, but there will also be magic and light and resilience. I can only hope that 22 will be kind.

[wherepoetswentodie]

This is a thing I’m working on that will not see the light of day for ages because I feel guilty for being bad at updating and also this seems to be the only thing my brain likes to write at the minute so

----

Connor McKinley did not see the point in health class, virtual baby dolls (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and going to BYU in the fall. What he was going to do, however, was go to health class, look after a virtual baby doll (that might have been possessed by Satan himself, or at least a close friend) and pretend he was going to BYU when (if) his parents asked, but actually get into the University of Michigan. 

But as he sat in health class - a class of six people, so he wasn’t sure it could even be called a class - he was beginning to think that maybe he’d prefer to be at BYU. Which may or may not have been a death sentence for him. He had never quite worked out how homophobic it really was and  hoped that he never would have to. 

“Do you think this teacher is ever going to turn up?” Nabulungi, his best friend and ‘girlfriend’ when his aunties were curious, asked. 

“I hope not,” Connor sighed, “I don’t trust babies,” 

“They’re not real babies,” 

“Somehow that makes it worse,” 

He glanced around the class, trying to remember if anyone there had ever thrown homophobic abuse his way. Chris Thomas and James Church definitely hadn’t, considering they were his best friends and Chris was practically sat in James’ lap. He looked towards the back of the room and immediately groaned, shocked that he hadn’t heard Arnold Cunningham before he’d seen him. Or maybe his best friend, and unfortunately attractive republican, Kevin Price had finally worked out how to keep him quiet. 

Connor might have actually tried to talk to him if it weren’t for the fact that his dad was the (incredibly homophobic) Governor of Utah

“Arnold Cunningham is in this class,” Connor muttered to Nabulungi who immediately brightened up and turned around to grin at him. 

“He’s cute,” she whispered. 

“No.” Connor said, “Nabulungi. No. Don’t. No. Don’t even look at me. I can’t believe - him? You think he’s cute?” 

Nabulungi rolled her eyes and suddenly had a coughing fit that sounded an awful lot like “Steve Blade,”. Connor tutted and turned back to the front of class, if not just so he could pretend that his best friend didn’t have a crush on Arnold Cunningham of all people. He thought that he’d be able to deal with her liking Kevin, and that would probably come with a healthy dosage of hate crimes for all involved. 

“You know if the teacher doesn’t turn up in 15 minutes we’re legally allowed to leave,” Arnold piped up. 

Connor rolled his eyes and Nabulungi had the nerve to laugh and turn around to talk to him. Deciding that he should try and stop her before things got too serious, Connor turned around, only to lock eyes with Kevin who was looking between Nabulungi and Arnold like he’d never seen them before. Or maybe he was just shocked that someone was actually showing interest in Arnold. Perhaps he was just glad to find someone who might take Arnold off his hands. Connor had never really understood why the two of them were friends. 

“You know Naba likes Arnold?” Connor whispered to Chris and James. 

James frowned at him, “Who do you think she was out with when she couldn’t come out with us last weekend?” 

Connor gaped at him, “Seriously? Are they - Are they dating?” 

“I hate you,” Chris said, “Do you ever listen to any of us? That was their first date!” 

“I thought she was joking,” Connor muttered, slumping in his seat and trying to block out the sounds of his best friend flirting with someone who dressed up as Luke Skywalker when he went to Comic-Con. 

God, he hoped that Nabulungi wasn’t going to start going to Comic-Con with him. He was pretty sure that he’d have to stage an intervention. A little bit like the one that she had staged for Chris after his sugar addiction had stopped being a cute personality trait and had become a genuine health concern. 

“Did you ask me to take this class because of Arnold?” Connor asked quietly. 

“No, I asked you because someone needed another class to graduate or someone won’t be tap dancing around Michigan next year,” 

“Are you going to Michigan, buddy? So’s Kevin!” Arnold said excitedly. 

Connor froze and turned around to look at Kevin, who’s eyes were also wide, “University of Michigan or Michigan State?” 

“University of Michigan,” Kevin said quietly, “You?” 

“Same,” Connor mumbled, “I’m guessing you’re not doing musical theatre?” 

“Probably economics. Or business. Or whatever else it is republicans do,” Chris said, “Oppress minorities?” 

Before Kevin could argue back, presumably to tell them that he wasn’t going to be majoring in oppressing minorities because Connor didn’t think that was a valid major (if it was, he was definitely going to the wrong university), the door opened and their teacher, Mr. Name-Connor-Couldn’t- Be -Bothered- To- Learn walked in. 

And even though Connor wasn’t going to bother to learn his name, he was thankful that he was their teacher. He was old, and retiring that year, which meant that he was long passed caring about actually teaching and would most likely pass them all without even looking over any of their work. They had basically signed up for another free period, and Connor was already planning on using this hour to work on his book and maybe even convince James to take some new headshots for him. Surely looking after a fake baby doll wasn’t going to be that hard. There was probably an off button that Connor was more than prepared to utilise. 

“Get in pairs,” the teacher grumbled at them, “I don’t care who,” 

Connor turned to Nabulungi with the intent to ask if she would grant him the honour of being the mother of his baby, just as she turned to Arnold to ask if he would be the father of her baby. He watched in horror as Arnold gleefully nodded his head and proceeded to stand behind Connor’s chair in a way that he understood meant ‘Please move’. 

“Chris,” Connor said quickly, “Wanna-” 

“No can do, buddy!” Chris said brightly, “Price needs a partner though,”  

“I hate you both,” Connor told them before sitting in the seat that Arnold had previously. 

The fact that Kevin didn’t seem all too excited about their predicament didn’t make Connor feel much better. Sure, he didn’t want to partnered with Kevin, but that was because he didn’t want to work with a raging homophobe and Kevin probably didn’t want to be partnered with him because he didn’t want to work with a raging homosexual. 

Not that Connor really thought that he was a raging homosexual, but he had long since learned that homophobic republicans (Governor Price sprang to mind), didn’t see a difference between the tiny pride pin that Connor dared pin to his jackets and the Drag Queens that worked in gay bars. It was oddly progressive, in a way. 

“Can you at least pretend to not hate me?” Kevin asked, “It’s not my fault Arnold’s dating your best friend,” 

Connor rolled his eyes, “Can you actually not hate me? It’s not my fault I’m gay,” 

Kevin glared at him for a second before he stood up to go and grab a baby off Mr. What's-His-Face’s desk. He completely bypassed the lone ginger baby in favour of one with dark hair, which Connor took as the first hate crime of the project. Perhaps he could do a second, smaller project on the side where he kept a tally of how many hate crimes Kevin committed over the next week. 

And when Mr. Name-Connor-Really-Should-Learn told them that they would have to stay over at each other's houses in an attempt to really drive home the experience of parenthood, Connor predicted that the final total of hate crimes would be a lot. 

“Sir?” Kevin said, sticking his hand in the air, “Why do we have to stay at each other's houses?” 

“Because, Callum, we don’t want to encourage single parenthood,” 

“My names Kevin,” he said impatiently, “But you’ll encourage gay parenthood?” 

“He didn’t mean it like that!” Arnold said quickly, turning around to glare furiously at his best friend, “He just - He meant...He meant from like a Mormon point of view,” 

“So still a homophobic point of view?” James asked lightly, “I’m not gonna sit and listen to him whilst he constantly attacks who I am!” 

“I wasn’t attacking you,” Kevin snapped, “I’m just - my dad would-” 

“-kill us all given the chance?” Chris said. 

“My dad wouldn’t like it if he knew!” Kevin said quickly. 

“Don’t tell him, Corey. What do you think he’s gonna do? Kill you?” Mr. Connor-Wanted-To-Say-Brown said, “You’re practically an adult, sort it out yourself,” 

Connor sighed and slumped in his chair, glaring down at his desk. He wasn’t sure what was worse; spending a week with Kevin at his own house with his homophobic parents, or spending a week with Kevin and his homophobic parents at their house. Both seemed equally as bad and a very good excuse to throw himself in front of the school bus. 

“You’re not staying at my house,” Kevin said quickly. 

“Cute that you think I want to stay there,” Connor said, “I’ll give you a ride home,” 

“I’m at swim practice after school so I’ll meet you there,” 

“I have rehearsal,” Connor said, “I’ll meet you at my car. It’s the-” 

“I know what your car is,” 

“Oh,” Connor said with a frown, “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll...I’ll see you later,” 

--------

“Do you think I could steal this dress once we’re done?” Nabulungi asked, twirling around in her Belle dress. 

“When are you ever gonna wear a bright yellow ball gown again?” 

Nabulungi shrugged, “Target?” 

Connor snorted and turned to stare at himself in the mirror. Playing the Beast was fun, but the costume certainly wasn’t. He blew some fur out of his mouth and turned to glower at Nabulungi, as though his quite terrible costume was all her fault. 

“I’m uncomfortable,” he said, taking the mask off and dropping it onto a chair, “It’s really annoying that I can’t turn into the Prince halfway through instead,” 

“That defeats the point of the show though. She falls in love with him when he’s a beast, not when he’s a Prince,” 

Connor scrunched his face up, “That feels illegal,”

“It’s not real,” she reminded him. 

“Never realised that, thanks,” he muttered, eyes darting around the room until they came to stop where they always did: on Steve Blade. 

When talking to any of his friends, Connor assured him that he was very much over Steve Blade and was not at all bitter about the way that everything ended. In reality, he was very much not over Steve Blade and was extremely bitter about the way everything ended. It made playing the Beast opposite his Gaston extremely easy; their fight scene never felt forced and Connor felt like he didn’t need claws to rip his head off. Spite was enough. 

Nabulungi tutted when she saw where he was looking and punched his arm. 

“No.” she said, “Stop thinking about Steve Blade!” 

“I’m not!” Connor exclaimed before very casually adding, “He text me last night,” 

“If you text him back-“ 

“I didn’t,” Connor said, lying effortlessly, “I ignored him. I’m not gonna go back to him,” 

Nabulungi huffed a little, “Good. He got what he wanted from you,”

“My virginity?” 

“Yes,” Nabulungi said bluntly. 

Connor sighed and turned away from Steve, thankful that he hadn’t done anything that suggested they had been talking for most of the previous night. Though that might have been because he was terrified of Nabulungi, Chris and James and didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them. (Again). 

Not that Connor himself wasn’t scared of his friends, sometimes. Especially where Steve Blade was concerned. Still, there was nothing quite as terrifying as an extremely irate Stage Manager in the form of Chris Thomas. The only person he hadn’t shouted at all day was James, even though he was extremely behind in his set painting duties. Connor had gotten one entrance wrong and Chris had described, in great detail, how he was gonna murder him. 

“Oh my god,” Nabulungi said in a hushed voice, “Did you know Elizabeth was still choreographing?” 

“Huh?” Connor said, “I thought someone else had taken over. Chris said she was too ill,” 

“Well, she's here,” 

Connor glanced over at the door and unintentionally winced as Chris wheeled his twin sister in. She looked worse than the last time he had seen her, and even then he had found it too difficult to look at her. 

The school had invited her back to choreograph the show (an unspoken “one last time” hanging in the air), and she had gotten through the first two weeks of rehearsal before she had to leave. Now, with only one week to go before their first performance, having her come back seemed pointless. As he thought about it, Connor realised it only seemed pointless to him because he (hopefully) had more shows in his future. It was very unlikely she had any. 

“Hey, Liz!” Connor said cheerfully as Chris wheeled her over, “How are you?” 

“Dying,” she said bluntly. 

Connor froze, immediately looking up to Chris for some help. Elizabeth laughed and rolled her eyes. 

“It was a joke,” she said, “Sort of. How are you finding the choreography?” 

“Fine,” Connor said quickly, happy to steer the conversation away from death, “Yeah, fine,” 

“‘Fine’ unless we’re talking about Tale as Old as Time,” Nabulungi said, “Which is really all he needs to do,” 

“Drop me in it, why don’t you?” Connor muttered. 

Admittedly, Connor was terrible at ballroom dancing. If he wasn’t tripping over his own feet, he was tripping over Nabulungi’s feet and if he wasn’t tripping over Nabulungi’s feet he was tripping over her dress. It only served as a reminder that he probably shouldn’t have been playing the Beast. He would have been more than happy with the ensemble, or maybe LeFou at a stretch, but Nabulungi had convinced him to audition for the lead, just because they’d probably never have a chance to play opposite each other again. 

“I prefer tap dancing,” Connor said after Nabulungi had finished explaining that the rather large bruise on her thigh was a result of Connor falling right on top of her when he had tried to pick her up. 

“Come on, then,” Elizabeth sighed, slowing getting to her feet, “I’ll help you,” 

“Uh, what are you doing?” Chris asked. 

“Teaching Connor how to dance, why?” she asked, taking Connor’s hand. 

“You can’t! The Doctor said that-“ 

“-I still have 6 months,” she reminded him, “What’s one ballroom dance going to do?” 

“Drop her, and I’ll kill you,” Chris snapped, before rushing off to snap at the poor lighting techs. 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the back of Chris’ head as she placed Connor’s hand on her waist and began counting him through the steps. It was a lot easier, being taught by someone who actually knew what they were doing (the new choreographer had not offered much help outside of ‘smile!’). 

“You are good at this,” she told him once the song had ended, “All you need is more confidence in yourself,” 

“I don’t think ballroom dancing is my thing,” Connor sighed, “and also not dressed like this,” 

“Dancing is your thing, Connor,” she said firmly, holding onto his arm as she, if possible, grew paler, “By the time you finish college, you’ll be top of your game,” 

Connor smiled and helped her back to her chair, hoping that Chris wasn’t going to commit a crime because he had tired her out. Not that Connor could blame him for being so overprotective; he couldn’t imagine watching his siblings slowly die, and he didn’t even like them that much. 

“You didn’t have to be here,” Connor said, sitting next to her and watching a run through of Gaston. 

“I know, but Christopher can’t say no to me anymore,” she said, “and he always drives me to McDonalds afterwards. Plus-“ she broke off suddenly, frowning, “I can hear a baby crying,” 

“Wha - oh, shit,” 

Connor jumped to his feet and hurried underneath the bleachers. He had hidden Brigham the baby underneath there in the hopes that he wouldn’t be too loud. Kevin had point blank refused to take him to swim practice, and Connor was starting to think that he would be learning what it was going to be like to be a single dad. 

“Sorry,” Connor said, awkwardly rocking the doll, “It’s my baby,” 

“Health class?” she asked. 

“Yep,” Connor said miserably, “He’s called Brigham,” 

“Who’s your partner? Naba?” 

Connor scoffed, “I wish. No, it’s Kevin Price,” 

“The Governor's son?” 

“Yeah...” 

She stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny but - oh, sweetie. Are they still doing the thing where you have to stay with your partner?” 

Connor sighed and nodded, “I’m not going over to his house. Lord knows I don’t need to meet Governor Price,” 

“So...he’s going to yours?” she asked in a small voice. 

“It’ll be fine,” Connor said hurriedly, “My parents don’t need to know,”

When Connor finally got out of rehearsal and spotted Kevin awkwardly hovering by his car, he thought that his parents probably wouldn’t be too angry if Kevin was the boy he brought home. As this thought crossed his mind, he remembered exactly who his parents were and what they expected of him. They’d probably get angry if Joseph Smith himself was the boy he brought home. 

Not that Connor would want to bring Joseph Smith home. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to deal with the whole Prophet thing. 

“How are we gonna bring him home?” Kevin asked. 

“I don’t know. He’s a doll. We’ll just put him in the back,” 

Kevin tutted, “You can’t drive a baby home like that! I’ll hold him,” 

“You know he’s not a real baby, right?” Connor asked slowly. 

“I’ve never failed a class in my life, and you’re not about to make me,” Kevin snapped, taking Brigham into his arms. 

“Alright, chill,” Connor muttered, “It’s not that deep,” 

Kevin spent the majority of the car journey to Connor’s house glowering out of the window, Brigham held tightly in his arms. If it weren’t for the fact that Kevin was also male, it might have been the closest that Connor ever got to being straight. He had lost count of the amount of couples he had seen (mainly at Church), who so obviously resented each other but had had a child together so that they could live up to the Mormon standard.

It was probably the life that Kevin was going to live, and Connor felt sorry for him until he realised that he was homophobic and suddenly couldn’t care less. 

As soon as Connor pulled up outside of his house, his mouth went dry and his palms became sweaty. This was not at all unusual, but it was even worse with Kevin being there with him. 

Taking a deep breath, Connor got out of the car and waited for Kevin to do the same. He was taking an awfully long time, holding Brigham close to his chest as he carefully got out, and Connor wasn’t sure he could last a whole week without committing a felony. Or if Kevin could last a whole week without committing a hate crime. 

“Are you gonna come in?” Kevin asked. 

Connor’s neck snapped up to face Kevin, who was standing on the front porch. 

“Get off there!” Connor hissed, lurching forward to grab his arm and yank him backwards. 

“Watch the baby!” Kevin yelled. 

“Shush!” Connor whispered, glancing up at the house and dragging Kevin around the side of the house when he saw someone inside - probably his mom - start to pull the curtains back, “Don’t yell!” 

Kevin frowned at him, “What the heck is your problem, McKinley?” 

“How long have you got?” Connor muttered. 

He walked around the back of the house to where the basement door was, quickly unlocking it and shoving Kevin through it before one of his parents made an appearance in the back garden. And he couldn’t help but curse his best friends, because it would have been beyond easier to have just moved in with Naba or Chris for a week. 

Kevin stood awkwardly in the middle of the middle room and it suddenly occurred to Connor that he was probably used to places that were more...grand. 

“Is there a reason we’re in your basement?” Kevin asked, “Are you going to murder me?” 

Connor tutted and walked over to his makeshift kitchen (a mini-fridge, kettle, toaster, microwave and mini-grill on top of his chest of drawers), beginning to make his usual after school snack of two Poptarts and a can of Redbull. If this was also occasionally his dinner, no one needed to know. 

“Do you want anything?” Connor asked. 

Kevin shook his head as he gently laid Brigham on Connor’s bed, “I brought something,” 

“You don’t trust my cooking?” 

“I follow a strict diet,” Kevin said, “I’m a swimmer, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah...” Connor muttered, dropping down onto one of the beanbags that Mr and Mrs Thomas were kind enough to donate to him, “There’s an airbed for you. I’ll blow it up later,” 

Kevin nodded and perched on the edge of Connor’s bed, his eyes darting around the room. Connor picked at his Poptart, feeling increasingly awkward. He would suggest that Kevin stay at his own house and lie to Mr. Teacher-That-Connor-Would-Probably-Never-Know-The-Name-Of, but he had a feeling that Kevin was not one to ever break the rules. 

“Why are we actually in the basement?” Kevin asked, “Shouldn’t you tell your parents your home? And that I’m here?” 

“No,” Connor said, “If it were up to them, I wouldn’t be in the house,” 

“Um...” 

“I’m gay, they don’t like it, they moved me into the basement because it makes them feel less guilty than if they actually kicked me out,” Connor shrugged, “on the rare occasion that I do actually see them, they remind me that once I’ve left for college, that’s it. I’m out, for good,” 

Kevin stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Connor clenched his jaw and looked back down at his Poptarts, wondering if there was a worst person to have this conversation with. He didn’t even like talking about it to his friends, never mind someone he barely knew and who definitely hated him in the same way that his parents did. 

Thankfully, Brigham started wailing and Kevin was too distracted to ask Connor anymore questions.

 It was definitely going to be the longest week of his life. 

#fun fact: I don't realy know what governors do but I am going to find that out before I publish this #I feel like America has too many political offices #Like calm down #For the sake of most of the world #and my fanfiction #kevin price #connor mckinley #elder price #elder mckinley #my writing #tbom #tbom musical #bom #arnold cunningham #elder cunningham #nabulungi hatimbi #arnaba #churchtarts